All is (NOT) Lost -- End of 2nd Act Turning Points

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The other day read on a message board some wannabe screenwriter refer to the End of 2^nd Act Turning Point as the “all is lost point.” If you knew me personally, you would know how much I had to restrain myself. I knew right away where the person got this term. From that damn Save the Cat book. (Be forewarned that if I ever catch anyone using one of Blake Synder's cutsie-poo phrases in my presence as if they were actual screenwriting parlance, they should expect to receive a verbal smack upside the head.) This incident illustrates the exact reason why I have a problem with Synder's books. They not only encourage formulaic, cook-book style writing, but mislead young writers into thinking that there is only one way to do things. Even though, on average, the Dark Moment (as it is more commonly called by professional screenwriters) is the most common way to end second acts in recent Hollywood films, it is not by even the smallest margin the only way to end the act. There are in fact multiple well-established methods to bring the penultimate act to a dramatic close, all depending on the needs of the particular story.

1. The Dark Moment

a. Variety #1: Dark Moment/Spark of Hope

A Dark Moment alone is not enough to bring a 2^nd Act to an end and launch the action of the 3^rd. Acts end with a two-part structure. There is first the end-of-act climax (the outcome of the conflict that ends the act). This is then followed by an end-of-act turning point (an event that allows (or forces) a new path for the protagonist to take to reach the main Story Goal). Sometimes the turning point is created by the outcome of the climax, meaning that the events are one and the same. But more often, they occur as two separate events, occurring one after the other.

If a story resolves in an up-ending, that is, a “happy” ending where the hero succeeds in the end, the Dark Moment that ends the 2^nd Act must be immediately followed by a Spark of Hope. If “all is lost” and that's all there is to it, there is nothing to provide the motivation to launch the protagonist into the 3^rd Act. After all, all is still lost. The conflict seems to be resolved in the hero's disfavor, and the hero has nothing to do but mope around and feel sorry for him/herself. The Spark of Hope is an event where the character and audience learns that the hero still has a chance. Something happens that gives the hero has one last shot of overcoming the conflict and reaching a happy end. 

The Matrix ends its 2^nd Act with the protagonist Neo in the worst situation possible. He and his allies have been betrayed and his mentor Morpheus captured by the Agents. Neo knows that the antagonist will torture Morpheus until he gives up information that will spell the quick end of all they have fought for. He is left with only the worst possible option -- to pull the plug on his mentor and kill him before this can happen.

However, this gloom is quickly reversed with a Spark of Hope. Rather than give up, Neo decides to take on the impossible odds to rescue Morpheus. He chooses hope over failure. This is the moment which launches the story into its final act.

The Spark of Hope should create a quick reversal of emotion in the audience. The situation was extremely negative, then suddenly positive. Such quick ups and downs creates the famous “roller-coaster” experience. All sequence-ending turning points should get some power from a reversal of emotions (a change from positive to negative, or vice versa), but this reversal is especially important at the end of the 2^nd Act. As the story heads into the 3^rd Act, the act that is supposed to contain the exciting resolution of the Story Spine, the story needs MOMENTUM. The story needs the sharpest drop possible in the emotional roller-coaster. The bigger the emotional reversal, the more momentum which begins the third act.

This is by far the most popular way to end a 2^nd Act, and can be found in countless films, from Braveheart to Slingblade to Knocked Up. In fact, it has become so common that it has taken on the label of a cliché. Go to the theater and watch 10 movies. I guarantee that at least half of them have chosen to go with the Dark Moment/Spark of Hope.

b. Variety #2: The Nail in the Coffin

(Note that these are self-invented terms. Like all those Synder-isms, you shouldn't go around using them as if they were official scriptspeak because people will not know what you're talking about.)

The Dark Moment/Spark of Hope is found mostly in movies with up-endings as a means to fuel a rooting desire for the protagonist as he or she enters the ultimate test which is the third act. In contrast, the Nail in the Coffin is found exclusively in stories with down-endings -- usually stories of self-destructive protagonists who bring their own ruin. Examples include Raging Bull, Citizen Kane, and There Will Be Blood. These stories feature anti-heroes who end up in failure or misery due to their inability to overcome their character flaws. These second acts end with the protagonist committing an unwise (or even unconscionable) action that seals their eventual doom by eliminating any possibility for redemption. In all three of the above examples, the Nail in the Coffin occurs by way of the protagonist willfully severing the last connection he has to a sympathetic friend or supporter. There is no spark of hope for these characters because they do not deserve any. But no Spark of Hope means no reversal of audience emotion. Typically, this creates a 3^rd Act dramatically weaker than the previous variety as the audience watches the protagonist's dreary life circle the drain toward an inevitable failure.

2. The False Victory

A False Victory is very similar to the Dark Moment/Spark of Hope, except its two events have the opposite emotional charge. With a False Victory, the protagonist wins the conflict that ends the second act. Act 2B of Raiders of the Lost Ark ends with Indiana Jones successfully stealing the Ark back from the Nazis. Hooray! The audience receives a brief emotional high. It seems like things will turn out okay. But not so fast. The end-of-act climax is followed by a turning point that renders the victory meaningless. The antagonist (or whatever the source of the story conflict) has taken a NEW action that throws a huge new roadblock in the hero's way. Indiana Jones's journey home is intercepted by a Nazi submarine and the Ark is stolen back. The protagonist's once certain victory is now again in doubt. The hero must ready him/herself for a new fight: the battle that will climax at the story's end.

The False Victory is also a good choice for stories with sympathetic heroes that meet a tragic end. These 2^nd Acts end with the story at its highest emotional point. But this victory is followed by a turning point that abruptly puts the situation in reverse. Act 2B of Brazil ends with the hero on the top of the world. He was won over his dream girl and seemingly escaped the nightmare of his existence. But, not so fast. Just as the hero finds his happiness, the authorities invade his home and take him into custody.

3. The Key Piece of the Puzzle

This type of end-of-act turning point is often found in stories containing a high element of mystery.
Up until this moment, a key piece of information has been kept hidden from the protagonist (and usually the audience as well). When this key piece is finally revealed, it changes EVERYTHING. It changes our perception of the story we have already seen, and more importantly, it changes the hero's actions from that point onward, dramatically altering the conflict that will decide the story's end.

Alien's 2^nd Act closes when the crew discovers that their employer intentionally sent them on a mission to bring the monster aboard the ship. In The Bourne Identity, Jason Bourne finally discovers who is trying to kill him and why. In Memento, the audience learns that Natalie has been setting up Leonard the whole time. In Casablanca, Ilsa reveals that she is still in love with Rick.

Chinatown provides the best example. Detective Jake Gittes has come to suspect Mrs. Mulwray of killing her own husband. He also believes Mulwray has kidnapped her husband's mistress with the plan of killing her too. However, when Gittes confronts her, he discovers that he couldn't be more wrong. The girl is Mrs. Mulwray's secret daughter, the product of incestuous rape by the antagonist. Mulwray's husband was murdered for trying to protect the daughter. Everything changes for Gittes after this moment.

4. The Launch of the Final Plan

Back to the Future's 2^nd Act ends this manner, as does the 2^nd Act of Star Wars. The heroes have overcome their end-of-act battle, for better or worse, and now devise an ultimate plan, one huge final effort to that will hopefully overcome the conflict and seize their story goal. The 3^rd Act begins with the launch of this plan into motion. Out of the four common types of turning points discussed in this article, this last variety generally launches the 3^rd Act with the least dramatic momentum due to its general lack of an emotional reversal. However, a tense and exciting third act is still possible as long as conflict continues to escalate and the master plan never goes exactly as the heroes wish. After all, nothing is less interesting than when everything goes according to the plan.

Despite its lack of an emotional reversal, the use of a Launch of the Final Plan does not denote an inferior film. Some of the most critically acclaimed films of all time use this type of turning point, such as The Godfather (the death of Michael Corleone's father gives him the opportunity to finally destroy his family's rivals), Lawrence of Arabia (the march to Damascus) and Schindler's List (the creation of the list). All that matters is how well the turning point is executed and how appropriate this type of turning point is for the course of the particular story.

These are the four most commonly used methods, but they are not the only ways to bring a 2^nd Act to a dramatic end. Though they are difficult to find, plenty of movies contain effective 2^nd Act turning points that do not fit into any of these categories. No Country For Old Men ends its 2^nd Act with the antagonist offering an ultimatum to the hero and the hero rejecting it. Though it may seem abnormal, this event is just as effective in launching the action of its story's 3^rd Act as any of the more popular methods. (EDITOR'S NOTE: Upon revising this article, I now realize that the rejection of ultimatum which ends the Act 2B of No Country may be labeled a "Nail in the Coffin." 3/20)

The point is that a writer must choose a way to end the 2^nd Act that best serves the needs of their unique story. Blindly forcing an “all is lost” point onto your story can end up damaging it, since your story may not be the type that would benefit from such a moment. The rules of screencraft must not be followed rigidly and applied blindly to any and every story. Instead, screencraft must remain flexible to the needs of the particular story. Every story has its own unique needs. Adapt the rules to the story and not the story to the rules. Unless you're the type of writer who wants your story to be generic, predictable, and read like something out of a cookbook. If that's the case, then by all means continue saving cats.

Tick, Tick, Tick...

The ticking clock is a dramatic device used to create a heightened sensation of suspense across a story sequence. Basically, the device operates on a principle of uncertainty. A character MUST reach a certain goal. If the character does not, he or she will be met with dire consequences. This is nothing out of the ordinary for a story sequence. Only in this case, the character has a limited (and often very short) amount of time to reach the goal, and plenty of potential conflict standing in the way. This creates a situation where the dramatic tension over the question of whether or not the character will succeed grows in intensity with every passing second.

There are two basic types of ticking clocks: the literal ticking clock and the non-literal. Though both types generate suspense by leading audiences to ask the question, “Will [character x] achieve [goal y] in time?”, the two types have slight differences in their construction and the type of suspense they generate.

THE LITERAL TICKING CLOCK: BACK TO THE FUTURE

The third act of Back to the Future contains possibly the most well-known, and most literal of all ticking clock sequences. The protagonist Marty McFly is stuck in the year 1955. The only way he can get back to his own time is for he and Doc to get the time machine in the right place, going at the right speed, at the exact moment a bolt of lightening hits the courthouse clock tower at the stroke of 10:04 pm. Fail to do that, and Marty will be stuck in the past forever.

In literal ticking clock sequence, both the audience and characters (though in some cases, only the audience) know exactly how much time the characters have to reach the goal. Often, the audience is literally shown a clock ticking down, such as the frequent shots of the clock tower in Future.

At the top of these sequences, characters often have a well thought-out plan on how to reach their goal with time to spare. They are confident in their chances, as are the audience. However, watching Marty and Doc sit around waiting for the time to be right, and then pull off the plan without a hitch would not be dramatic, and certainly not suspenseful. The ticking clock can only generate suspense when the audience doubts the chances of success. Suspense is even greater when it seems certain that it will be impossible for the hero to succeed in the time remaining.

With a literal ticking clock sequence, suspense escalates when obstacles are unexpectedly thrown in the way of the characters' path and/or plans. (This relates to an old rule about communicating information to your audience. The only time an audience should ever be told the character's plan is when the storyteller intends to make everything go horribly wrong. It is about setting up expectations, and then reversing them.) Everything seems fine and dandy for Marty and Doc's plan - until a falling tree branch pulls out one of the so-important cables from the roof of the courthouse. Suddenly, a question arises in the audience: Will they be able to reconnect the cable and still carry off the plan in time?

But this one small obstacle is not enough to carry suspense for the length of the sequence. Reconnecting one cable is a relatively minor task, one that can be completed with time to spare. What these sequences require are a series of obstacles that come one after another. As soon as Doc or Marty overcome one obstacle, another follows right on its heels. The ledge breaks, sending Doc dangling from its edge. The time machine stalls. The moment Doc plugs in one cable, another one detaches. Since these obstacles appear linearly and in rapid succession, the audience experiences an emotional “roller-coaster” as their hopes are suddenly raised with the success over one obstacle, and then once again sent plummeting with the onset of the next obstacle.

In Back to the Future, the obstacles themselves do not escalate in the level of threat they pose, as would be expected in a regular action sequence. The second unplugged cable is objectively a no larger problem that the unplugging of the first cable. However, there is significant difference in the level of perceived threat in the audience's minds, thanks to the ticking clock. Since the audience is kept constantly aware of the remaining time as the clock ticks down, the later an obstacle arises the more threatening it appears. The first detached cable is a relatively moderate threat, since Doc and Marty still have plenty of time left to fix the problem. In contrast, the final detached cable gives the audience a heart attack. They know only seconds remain, this obstacle couldn't possibly be overcome in time, and the heroes are most likely doomed.

THE NON-LITERAL CLOCK: DIE HARD

With a non-literal ticking clock, both character and audience know that something terrible will happen unless the character reaches a certain goal within an allotted amount of time. Yet in this case, neither the character nor audience know how much time the character has to achieve the goal. Instead, the terrible consequence could occur at any moment.

Die Hard contains a non-literal ticking clock in its early third act. Both the audience and John McClane know that the antagonist Hans plans to blow up the roof and kill all the hostages in the process. However, no one knows exactly when Hans will do this. It is up to Hans to decide when to push the button. Because of this, John McClane must get the hostages and himself off the roof as fast as possible.

A non-literal ticking clock gives a sequence a greater sense of urgency than its literal counterpart. Because the unwanted event could happen at any moment, the character must move as fast as possible. Each passing second could mean death or failure. This urgency forces the character to take far more drastic actions to any resistance he or she may meet. When John McClane first reaches the roof and tells the hostages to flee downstairs, they are slow to believe the threat. With no time to lose, John takes quick and brute action by firing his machine gun to scare them like cattle.

Like the literal ticking clock, the suspense of a non-literal case should escalate with the unexpected arrival of obstacles. This can be a series of small obstacles, like in Future, but more often one large obstacle will do the trick. The hero must get out of the burning house, but a monster steps in front of the only exit. Likewise, as soon as McClane is able to herd the hostages off the roof, the FBI helicopter begins to fire at McClane, under the impression that he is a terrorist. McClane still needs to get off the roof before it blows up, but cannot with the helicopter trying to kill him. The urgency of the non-literal ticking clock forces McClane to take drastic action by jumping off the roof with nothing but a firehose around his waist to keep him from falling to his death.

When the non-literal clock does finally run out of time, the big event should come as a surprise. Make the audience's hearts jump into their throats as they suddenly meet the moment they feared. If they see it coming, it will lose its dramatic impact.

BOTH AT ONCE: ALIEN

 

 The third act of the sci-fi horror Alien proves to be the most suspenseful of all by carrying out both types of ticking clock sequences, literal and non-literal, simultaneously in the same situation.

In a last-ditch effort to kill the alien monster on board the ship, Alien's protagonist Ripley decides to engage the ship's self-destruct mechanism, giving her a literal ticking clock of ten minutes to reach the escape pod before the ship explodes. The audience is kept abreast of Ripley's time remaining by a computer voice counting down each minute.

However, things are not so easy. Ripley cannot just run to the escape pod and leave with plenty of time to spare. There is a second line of suspense occurring simultaneously. The alien monster is still lurking somewhere on the ship, intent on making Ripley its final victim. The audience knows that it is only a matter of time before the monster makes another appearance. But the audience does not know WHEN. This certain event, combined with the uncertainty of time, creates a second, non-literal ticking clock in addition to the literal one.

These two lines of suspense feed off one another, increasing dramatic tension exponentially. Ripley cannot merely run to the escape pod to avoid the first dire consequence (the exploding ship) because she does not know when or where the second consequence (the monster's attack) may occur. This forces her to move slowly and cautiously as the clock ticks down.

As usual, an obstacle appears to throw Ripley's success into doubt. The monster appears, blocking her path to the escape pod. Ripley is able to avoid being killed, but now she cannot continue forward. She must turn back the way she came. Her outcome has become more uncertain. Another major complication occurs when Ripley is unable to abort the self-destruct in time. Tension has escalated. She still must get to the escape pod with the monster still lurking in the shadows, but she now has only half the time to do so as before. Like in Back to the Future, this later problem is relatively the same as the first one, but the situation is much worse subjectively because far less time remains.

One thing remains to be said about ticking clocks. This one is so obvious that it has become the subject of parody, yet it is still very true. Always run your clock down to its very last second. The math behind this is simple. As long as the outcome is uncertain, the audience will experience tension. The less time that remains = the greater the tension. For maximum impact, the storyteller must leave both the characters and audience gasping until the final second.

The 20 Common Patterns of Plot

(EDITOR'S NOTE: This article is OLD and OBSOLETE, written in the very earliest days of my investigations into cinematic plot patterns. As such, it is wholly inaccurate (and, as for many of the descriptions, far too vague). For an up-to-date list of the *16* (not 20) general plot patterns of American cinema and their various subtypes, go here. Or even better, pick up a copy of my book Screenwriting & The Unified Theory of Narrative, Part II: Genre, Pattern and the Concept of Total Meaning. The book not only lists all common plot patterns but provides detailed breakdowns of all 34 plot pattern type/subtypes with well-known cinematic examples. The article you are viewing now has been kept active simply as of record. - MWS 3/20)

I've been thinking about plot progression lately. You know, all that painful yet necessary stuff that must be written between the story’s beginning and its end.

For me, as well as most writers, this is always the hardest part about starting a new script. How the heck to I keep the audience's attention for the 75-100 minutes it takes to go from the story’s inciting incident to its climatic end? How can I keep the story developing, the momentum building, and the conflict escalating over that enormous stretch of time?

As usual, my search for answers began by analyzing of a large pool of successful films to see how they managed to do what they did. It look no more than a few minutes before I began to notice patterns emerging. All of the movies in my pool could be grouped by the structure with which their stories unfolded. The most surprising thing about this was that movies which seemed to have nothing in common on their surfaces nevertheless had plots which advanced in the exact same manner. So far, I have identified twenty groups to share.

(If you are eager to see these 20 Story Types right away, feel free to jump to the list below. Just make sure to return to the supporting information afterward so everything will make better sense.)

The first thing you may notice is that drastically different movies coexist within the same category. Star Wars, The Godfather, and Die Hard share a group. As do Iron Man, Shrek, and Schindler's List. Though to a casual viewer these films have little or nothing in common, they share the exact same pattern of plot. This suggests that a story's method of plot progression has absolutely no connection with genre or tone. Story type proves to be an independent factor, one that when combined with other factors such as genre, tone, and character selection, turn the story into a seemingly unique viewing experience.

I am aware that for centuries dramatists have created lists of “Nine Basic Story Types,” or “38 Types of Plot.” These lists always seem more like dusty old novelties than anything of practical use for a working writer. However, there is a practical use in the patterns I present below. This list may serve as an immense help when it comes to jump-starting a script from a mere story idea, to an outline, to an eventual finished draft. When most of us begin a new script, we start out with a premise, some main characters, a beginning, and (hopefully) an end. But the rest remains a gray, murky void. What must be done to develop the original idea into a fully-functioning narrative most appropriate for the chosen premise? By going through this list and finding the group that best fits your premise, you may get an idea on how the type of story you wish to tell tends to advance. Once you have a general idea about how your story type typically develops, the journey through that treacherous second act and into the third will become a much smoother path.

Please remember that story type is only one factor of what makes up an individual cinematic story. There is nothing cookie-cutter about following story types. You will notice that M. Night Shyamalan’s The Sixth Sense and Alexander Payne’s Sideways share the same story type. Are they shallow mirror-images of each other? Of course not. Other independent factors; such as genre, tone, individual character qualities, setting, and the details of each film’s premise; make each story individual and unique even though their plots follow a similar pattern under the surface.

What follows is by no means an exhaustive list. These are only the categories I have identified to date. Other categories may exist, and the inclusion of certain films in one category or another may remain debatable at current moment.

(NOTE: Citizen Kane proves to be an anomaly on this list. It fits into two groups, all mattering on how one chooses to view the plot. If one believes the main plot of Kane to be its frame story, in which the action is moved forward by a reporter's quest to find the meaning of Kane's last words (meaning the reporter is the story's protagonist), the plot fits into Group #10, The Simple Task Prolonged. If one considers the frame story to be mere gimmickry, and Charles Foster Kane to be the protagonist, then Kane fits into Group #13, The Rise & Fall.)

(EDIT [MWS Nov 2013]: Since writing the original version of this article, I have completed a year-long project involving the viewing of over 300 films for the purposes of identifying, among other things, each film’s plot pattern. I had three criteria for inclusion in this study. 1. The film must contain a “traditional” narrative. This means a protagonist-centered linear narrative aimed at a largely mainstream audience. In other words, the type of film Hollywood typically produces. I did not include nontraditional, “experimental,” or “art house” films because, by their very nature, these films eschew accepted norms of storytelling in favor of a discourse that values aesthetic means of expression over that of pure narrative. 2. The film had to be considered “good” by general public opinion. I realize there are a wide range of personal tastes and opinions (and there may be examples below of films you personally dislike), but you do not want to take screenwriting instruction from known bombs like a Batman & Robin or a Friday the 13^th Part XIII. 3. With the exception of a few dozen “classics” still considered successful by modern standards, the films must have been produced within the last fifty years.

Here are the results as relevant to this article: Of the 300+ films analyzed, nearly all fit snugly into one of the following twenty categories. Interestingly enough, the films found most dramatically successful, by both critics and popular opinion, were time and again those that followed their story patterns the closest. Other films that were not so easily categorized, or those that seemed to borrow traits from multiple categories, typically received a less enthusiastic response from both audiences and critics. From this, one might make the early conclusion that the more a film conforms its pattern, the more success it typically has with audiences. Movies that fail to follow their story type have lesser success. (This is still a vague theory at this time. More investigation is necessary for any conclusive statements.) In addition to this, my study has caused me to make two changes to the following list. First, a new story type has been added:“The Big Mission.” Second, I have decided to downgrade Type #3 “Reclaiming the Throne” to a sub-type of either Type #2 if its narrative is antagonism-driven, or Type #6 if protagonism-driven. [Nevermind the techno-babble here. It is beyond the scope of this article.] However, the “Reclaiming the Throne” type remains on this list for the sake of posterity.)

HERO-CENTERED PLOTS

These plots focus heavily on their protagonists. The protagonist's character arc is a primary area of attention.

1. An Innocent Abroad

(An innocent hero becomes unwillingly swept up in events beyond his or her control. For the story's first half, the hero is relatively passive, reacting as he or she is continually attacked by an outside force. At the midpoint, the hero seizes control of his or her destiny, taking decisive, willful actions to fight back. The character arc goes from weakness to strength.)

Star Wars

Almost Famous

The Godfather

Spider-Man (2002)

The Graduate

2. The Small Man (Woman) Rises

(A more or less unremarkable protagonist is thrust into a situation where he or she is expected to achieve greatness. The hero is chosen by an outside power to take part in this task, often against the protagonist’s will. The hero's first attempts are hampering by personal flaws, such as a lack of confidence, naivete, arrogance, or ignorance. Nurtured by supporting characters, later turning points present a series of tests where the hero must prove his or her worth, usually failing before finding success.)

Rocky

The Matrix

Kung-Fu Panda

Men in Black

The Silence of the Lambs

3. Reclaiming the Throne

(The protagonist is a person of former greatness who has fallen into disgrace or insignificance. He or she receives an opportunity to be great again. To do so, the protagonist must overcome old habits or insecurities, as well as the negative perceptions of others. Often allies are necessary to do this. Plot develops through story events that create gains and setbacks in the hero's pursuit of his or her goal.)

Austin Powers

Airplane!

The Cinderella Man

4. Taking on the Mantle

(You could call this type the “jerk conversion.” The protagonist starts as an antihero – someone who is capable of being a hero, yet is unwilling due to selfishness or some other personal flaw. Events invade the protagonist's life to force him or her to take on the role of a hero. Though the protagonist may face a large threat from a force of antagonism, the protagonist's biggest obstacle is his or her own resistance to personal change. Development occurs when story events force the protagonist to change his or her behavior bit by bit from self-centered to heroic in order to reach the main story goal.)

Iron Man

Schindler's List

Casablanca

Shrek

On the Waterfront

5. The Healing Narrative

(The protagonist starts the story somehow wounded. He or she is then given an objective that will heal this wound, whether the healing be literal, figurative, or symbolic. Though the hero is met with external conflict on his or her journey, the real moments of development occur whenever story events force the hero to overcome his or her resistance to healing, get out of his or her comfort zone, and face the unknown.)

The Sixth Sense

Forgetting Sarah Marshall

Ordinary People

Sideways

Good Will Hunting

6. Character Drive

(The protagonist begins the story unhappy with the quality of his or her life. The protagonist willfully chooses, without being directly forced by outside antagonism, to take actions that will make his or her life better. Conflict comes from the resistance encountered as the protagonist tries to alter the status quo. Development and escalation comes as the protagonist deals with obstacles in the way of change, as well as complications created by others who push back against the hero's efforts.)

American Beauty

Coming to America

Trainspotting

Office Space

Dances With Wolves

ANTAGONISM-CENTERED PLOTS

These plots are driven forward more by their forces of antagonism than their heroes. Often these heroes seem helpless in their struggle against story events. Many of these films contain villains more memorable than their heroes.

7. The Unstoppable Beast

(A “innocent” hero is targeted by some malevolent force, a force that will not stop until the hero is destroyed. Plot develops as each escalated attempt by the protagonist to escape the force is denied. Finally, in the end, the hero chooses to fight back.)

The Terminator

The Bourne Identity

A Beautiful Mind

No Country for Old Men

Sunset Boulevard

8. The Infecting Agent

(The protagonist's world is invaded by a malevolent force that slowly destroys everything around it, threatening the protagonist as a result. Development is caused by the hero's progressive attempts to escape or destroy the agent, set back by the agent's refusal to give in.)

Alien

The Dark Knight

Halloween

Casino

The Usual Suspects

The difference between an Unstoppable Beast and an Infecting Agent is the nature of the malevolent force's destructive actions. An Unstoppable Beast specifically targets the protagonist, but only the protagonist. It is a heat-seeking missile. The Infecting Agent, on the other hand, is like a virus. It poisons and destroys everything it encounters, not so much by will, but because that is its nature. The Terminator is out to kill Sara Conner, and only Sarah Conner. He only kills other people when they get in his way. Michael Meyers of Halloween, on the other hand, kills indiscriminately. He murders randomly because it is his nature to destroy life. The Dark Knight's Joker is a psychopath whose nature is to spread violence and insanity wherever he goes. Though he does target the Batman at a certain point in the narrative, he only does so only because it helps him achieve his true desire: throwing Gotham City into maximum chaos.

ACTION-CENTERED PLOTS

These plots focus less upon character and more on the developing course of the story action.

9. The Literal Journey

(The protagonist is tasked with traveling to a specific physical destination to perform a certain action once he or she arrives. Most of the story is made up of the journey itself. Plot development and escalation occur by means of obstacles continually thrown in the way of the protagonist's progress and the actions taken to overcome them. )

Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Ring

The Wizard of Oz

Apocalypse Now

Finding Nemo

Little Miss Sunshine

10. A Simple Task Prolonged

(The protagonist is given a task that seem simple at first, but at each turning point, the protagonist meets failure or delay, forcing him or her to continue the quest indefinitely.)
(EDITOR'S NOTE: This type has since been eliminated from the official list. Upon closer examination, it was found that all the titles below belong to other plot patterns. -- MWS 4/20)

Saving Private Ryan

Citizen Kane (the frame narrative)

The Hangover

Planes, Trains, and Automobiles

Superbad

11. The Snowball of Complication

(The protagonist receives a task that seems simple at first. However, at each turning point, the protagonist either learns through new information that the task is more complicated than previously understood, or an outside event complicates the problem into something much bigger and more complex than it was before. This pattern is often found often in wild comedies or stories with a large element of mystery.)

Back to the Future

Chinatown

The Big Lebowski

The Maltese Falcon

Blue Velvet

The Simple Task Prolonged and the Snowball of Complication start in a similar manner. However, the key difference is that with the Simple Task, the original task (the story problem) remains more or less the same from the start of the story to its end. This is a bit like if you went out late at night looking for a place to eat and must spend hours driving from one place to another because every place you visit is closed. In a Snowball of Complications, the original task constantly morphs into a larger and more difficult situation. This is like driving around searching for a place to eat, then running out of gas, then getting your wallet stolen, and then running afoul of the police because you no longer have your ID.

12. The Chess Match

(An already strong hero is put into conflict with an equally strong enemy. The plot advances as both sides take actions in direct opposition to the another. Turning points and escalation occur when acts by one party cause setbacks for his or her adversary, forcing that adversary to up the ante and strike back.)
(EDITOR'S NOTE: This type has also been eliminated. Raiders is a Snowball. Ferris is a Character Drive. Touch of Evil is a Yin/Yang. Like I said, it took a LOT of time and investigation to identify and organize the entire system -- MWS 4/20)

Raiders of the Lost Ark

Ferris Bueller’s Day Off

Touch of Evil

13. The Rise & Fall Narrative

(An ambitious hero achieves great success despite large personal flaws. The story's first half develops by way of various obstacles that attempt to block protagonist's path to greateness and the protagonist’s actions to overcome them. By the midpoint, the protagonist reaches the height of his or her success. After this point, either the protagonist becomes corrupted, or the protagonist's flaws catch up to him or her, causing things to fall apart. The remainder of the story develops from the protagonist's attempts to fight back against an escalating series of misfortunes, inevitably meeting failure due the protagonist’s inability to overcome his or her negative traits. In the end, the hero either meets destruction or gives up the life that brought him or her success. This is the opposite of The Small Man Rises.)

Goodfellas

Citizen Kane (flashback narrative)

Scarface

Patton

(500) Days of Summer

14. The Vengeance Narrative

(The story begins with the hero betrayed, often left for dead. The hero returns to enact justice on the betrayer. The first half develops by way of a series of willful steps taken by the protagonist to achieve this revenge. At the midpoint, the betrayer becomes aware of the hero’s efforts. The betrayer then complicates the action by taking action against the hero. From this point on, the plot resembles The Chess Match.)

Gladiator

Kill Bill

Batman (1989) (structurally, the film actually treats the Joker as the protagonist and Batman as the antagonist)

The Godfather II

15. Man (or Woman) Against Society

(The protagonist or an ally of the protagonist exists in a world where he or she treated unfairly. The source of this mistreatment comes not from a single character, but from society writ large. The protagonist takes action to make the story world treat him/her or his/her ally in the way they deserve. Plot develops as the members of society create obstacles to resist the protagonist’s efforts for change, forcing the protagonist to take larger actions to continue.)

Braveheart

Spartacus

Erin Brockovich

The Elephant Man

THX1138

The Big Mission

(The protagonist is tasked (voluntarily or involuntarily) with an elaborate, seemingly impossible mission. The size and significance of this mission requires extensive preparation and a large supporting team. The mission itself is the plot's main focus. Plot tends to follow a predictable pattern: a. assembling the team, b. planning the mission, c. the launch of the mission, d. a major turning point that threatens success, e. the mission's ultimate success or failure. Parts c & d are sometimes reversed.)

Inception

The Dirty Dozen

Oceans 11

The Sting

The Magnificent Seven

DUALIST PLOTS

Rather than focusing upon a single protagonist, these plots revolve around the relationship between two or more equally-weighted characters, both often considered the story’s protagonist.

16. The Spoiler

(A protagonist feels threatened by the addition of a new person or thing to his or her world. This is only a perceived threat. It has not yet, or may never, become a legitimate threat. Often, the rival’s threat exists only in the protagonist's imagination. Nevertheless, the protagonist takes action to undermine the new rival. The character arc follows a downward trajectory. Plot develops as the protagonist's actions meet failure or when events escalate the perceived threat’s danger. This forces the protagonist to commit more and more unheroic actions until either these actions come back to ruin the protagonist, or the protagonist chooses to surrender his or her fears and embrace the rival. The Spoiler works in the opposite fashion as Taking on the Mantle.)
(EDITOR'S NOTE: This patterned has been re-assigned as a subtype of the Infecting Agent.)

Amadeus

Election

The Magnificent Ambersons

Pushing Tin

17. Reconciled Rivals

(Two sympathetic characters, one or both the protagonist, come into a personality conflict. The plot develops as the two characters are forced into a situation where they must work together to achieve a mutually-desired goal. Obstacles and complications test their ability to cooperate, forcing the characters to first overcome their inter-personal conflicts before they reach success.)

Rain Main

When Harry Met Sally

The King’s Speech

Scent of a Woman

Knocked Up

18. Loving Alliance

(Not one, but two protagonists meet and find comfort in each other's companionship. Together, they find the help and strength they need to fight their individual problems. Plot develops as persons or events outside of the pair’s control take action to separate the alliance. The protagonists must then fight back to keep the alliance together. This type is usually found in “romance” or “buddy” stories.)

Lost in Translation

Titanic

Brokeback Mountain

Bonnie & Clyde

Slingblade

19. Yin & Yang

(These stories have dual protagonists – two main characters given equal dramatic weight that have diametrically opposed character spines. The opposed character spines make each protagonist the other’s antagonist. Plot usually develops in a push/pull dynamic similar to the Chess Match as both sides take action to achieve their story goals, threatening the other protagonist in the process. If only one of the two protagonists is heroic, the story ends with one side defeated. If both are heroic, both sides may resolve their conflict to unite against a common enemy.)

The Departed

Training Day

Fight Club

Heat

There’s Something About Mary

20. The Ensemble Narrative

(These stories typically have large casts and are composed of events whicht takes place over multiple separate, yet connected story planes. It is difficult, or impossible, to single out one character as the sole protagonist. Ensembles treat plot as several independent stories intertwined under a single premise, often giving each plane its own protagonist. Plot develops within each plane almost independently, with each storyline connected only by occasional shared events and the incidental influence of one plane’s turning point upon the events of another.) 

(EDITOR'S NOTE: The Ensemble Narrative has been removed from the list. It is not a plot pattern, but an alternative cinematic structure called the Multi-narrative. Plot patterns, however, are still found within multi-narratives. Each of the film's multiple protagonists follow their own lines of action, typically shaped by a simplified version of one of the patterns described above.)

Dr. Strangelove

Network

Magnolia

Traffic

Black Hawk Down

Tips to Becoming a Better Writer

It takes a long journey to become a cinematic storyteller of professional quality, and you need all the help you can get along the way. What follows are nine points of advice to build and strengthen your skills as you develop as a writer.

1. Write

This may seem painfully obvious, but it is surprising how many wannabe writers there are who never make the effort to put pen to paper and develop their skills. Writers write. Period. If you do not write, you are not a writer.

You can read every screenwriting book from cover to cover, but all that knowledge will be useless if it is never put into practice. You can read a book on how to swim, but you will still not know how until you actually get into the water.

It takes years of practice for a beginner to nurture their skills to a professional level. You will have to churn out five to ten completed screenplays before you can be confident in your grasp of the craft. This means that a dedicated storyteller must be disciplined. Set aside a few hours every day to write. No distractions. No excuses. Do you think professional athletes got to where they are on nothing but talent? No. They achieved success through practice and discipline. They practiced every day since childhood, and continue to practice every day despite being the best in the world.

At first, there will be resistance. After all, writing is hard. Even professional screenwriters are tempted to put off working to watch TV or goof around on the internet. But if you really want to be a writer, you must push through the resistance. No pain, no gain. Though there may be days when you do not want to write, sit there until you write something. Eventually, it will become a habit. You will want to write every day at your scheduled time. You will not be able to think about doing anything else. You may even get upset whenever something keeps you from writing. This is when you know you really are a writer.

2. Read

Reading makes you a better writer. And I don't just mean read books on screenwriting. Read anything and everything: fiction, nonfiction, novels, plays, newspapers, magazines. Absorbing the words of others will build your vocabulary, improve your communication skills, and enrich your creative grasp on the English language. Novels, short stories, and stage plays will expand your conception of story possibilities beyond the narrow, often-cliched forms seen in the movie theater. Their freer uses of plot, theme, and character may help break you out of confined ways of thinking.

Expand your sphere of knowledge into as many areas as possible. Botany, economics, swing dancing... It could all be useful. A storyteller cannot believably portray a world without first knowing about that world. Study history, science, politics. Explore other cultures and learn about persons different than yourself. Each field of study is an endless source of material to exploit in your own work. Real world knowledge provides a way out of the stereotypes we see in hackneyed television and movies and into a story world rich with layers of meaning and truth. The more you know, the more you can draw upon and the greater your artistic range.

3. Become an active viewer of movies

Don't just watch movies. Watch them through the eyes of a storyteller. Analyze how the story has been put together. Identify the Story Spine and the act breaks. How are the scenes constructed? How does the storyteller distribute information to create curiosity, surprise, and suspense? It is often necessary to watch a film twice to see how it works. Watch it the first time is to experience the story as a viewer. Watch it again to focus on the craft. Remember what you experienced watching the film on the first time around and then try to figure out what the storyteller did you make you think and feel that way.

If you happen to be watching a bad movie, don't just zone out. Figure out why it is bad. Where did the storyteller go wrong? How could it be made it better? If you were hired to fix the script, what would you change?

4. Read the screenplays of films you admire

The screenplays for thousands of produced films are available online. Many have also been printed in book form available in stores and libraries. One of the best ways to develop your skills is by studying the work of successful professionals. In certain ways, this is preferable to watching the movie itself, because it will allow you to focus upon the way the story has been put together on the page without the distractions of performances, camera, editing, or cinematography. You can read and reread each scene at your own pace. Reading screenplays is especially helpful when it comes to learning how to write action and description. This is the part of screenwriting that the audience never sees, and reading it on the page will help you to understand how to communicate information in a clear, active, and efficient manner which allows readers to see the potential movie unfold in their minds.

5. Get hired as a script reader.

Since production companies, agencies, and management companies receive dozens of spec screenplay submissions every week, they hire readers (usually unpaid college interns) to comb through these piles and separate the good from the bad, from the ugly. I graduated from one of the country's top film schools, but this was not where I learned about story. My real training came from reading hundreds upon hundreds of unproduced screenplays (most of them terrible). Readers not only read scripts, but also write “coverage”-- a short one-to-two page analysis of each submission that gives the executives, agents, or whomever a quick overview without having to read the script themselves. The wonderful thing about writing coverage is, rather than simply generating a general opinion about whether a script is good or bad, written coverage forces the reader to really think about what specifically is good or bad about each script, what reasons it is good or bad, and make possible suggestions on how to fix the problems. Coverage is basically homework for your personal education in screencraft.

Most of what you read will be crap. You may be surprised that 90% or more of the scripts won't be very good. Out of the remainder, 9 out of 10 still will not be good enough to be produced. However, there is a bright side. Poor scripts give an unparalleled opportunity to sharpen your own critical skills. Being required to criticize, dismantle, and diagnose screenplays written by someone other than yourself develops an inside-out understanding of screencraft. You will learn the right way to write a script by seeing all the ways a script can go wrong. You will recognize what readers like to see in a script by being a reader yourself. As you gain the capability to connect symptoms with causes, many of the more abstract notions contained on this blog will become clear to understand now that you can see the concepts in action.

Paid reader jobs are hard to get, and most unpaid gigs require college enrolled to receive course credit in lieu of payment. However, there are always plenty of small companies, film festivals, and screenplay competitions that need volunteers to sift through submissions. There are also a number of online communities where developing screenwriters post their work for feedback. If you are really serious about developing your critical abilities, you can even practice this on your own. Find unproduced screenplays online, or scripts to movies you have not yet seen and write your own mock coverage. Just make sure you get the most of it by putting your analysis in writing. No education is complete without homework.

6. Watch documentaries

Including documentaries in your screening habits can make you a far better writer than watching narrative films alone. Cinematic stories are supposed to be imitations of reality, but if a writer only watches movies, the only thing the writer will learn to imitate is other movies. Documentaries are also narrative dramas, but they show the drama of real life. Documentaries present real people struggling with real conflicts in situations which can be far richer and more complex than those found in fictional narratives. Like reading, documentaries will expose you to subjects that will broaden your knowledge and open you mind to new storytelling possibilities. They can vastly improve your ability to create rich, identifiable characters by presenting the intimate thoughts and actions of real human beings in situations that, at times, can be far stranger than any fiction.

7. Read biographies and autobiographies

Biographies and autobiographies of public and historical figures can help a writer better understand what it takes to create interesting, well-rounded, fully human characters. Persons of fame (or infamy) are usually seen by the public in only one dimension. We know only the superficial details told to us by the media or word of mouth. A rock star is just his/her songs, photos, and performances. A politician is just the policies he/she supports. An actress is just the roles she has played. But biographical works allow us to see these people in multiple dimensions. We learn the backstory that made this person who they are. We find how they achieved what they have done, what drove them to do it, and the struggles they faced along the way. If the work is autobiographical, we are allowed to go even deeper into character, learning the intimate thoughts, emotions, needs, and fears behind the actions which made the person famous. A storyteller needs to understand his or her characters with the same level of intimacy. Discovering the complex tangle of psychological impulses behind public personas will help writers understand what must go into creating characters who are equally fascinating.

8. Make an effort to understand human psychology

A writer cannot create believable human behavior on screen without first understanding it in real life. Most people cannot understand why other people do what they do. Some of us don't even understand ourselves. Stiff, flat, unnatural characters are the result of a writer who lacks the ability to empathize -- that is, to see the world through the eyes of persons different from themselves. A great storyteller should be able to take the viewpoint of any character at any time; regardless of gender, race, culture, age, or sexual orientation. He or she must be able to occupy dozens of different minds at a time, each with their own unique way of seeing the world.

A basic understanding of human psychology can help a writer empathize with any type of person. It can give the ability to predict how any given person will react in any given situation. It can explain how the experiences, traumas, wants, needs, and fears found in a person's past make them who they are today and continue to influence their actions in the future. Stories, after all, are about people. They explore humanity. That makes storytellers anthropologists. We have to study our subjects to know what makes them tick.

9. Write more.

Writing is not easy. It is not glamorous. It is arduous labor. The amount of time and dedication it takes to become a success guarantees that only the strong will survive. This is why the first and foremost quality any writer must have is a genuine LOVE of writing. A real writer does not write for money (though money is nice). Nor does he or she write for fame (few ever attain it). A real writer writes because he or she wants to write. Needs to write. There are ideas deep down inside the writer that he or she must communicate to the world. A real writer couldn't possibly imagine him/herself doing anything else.

It is this passion alone that will get you through the growing pains of the long years it takes to grow from beginner to pro. You have to want it.

Scribble on.