Hauge claims the Inner and Outer Journey run in parallel. I think he’s right, with one small caveat.

A gorgeous Sunday morning in a Manly cafe with a view on the ocean. Perfect circumstances to switch off.

Not if you’re me. I was pondering story structure. And suddenly I had this thought.

Think of a character’s journey as a journey of change. Nothing new so far.

If you look at both the Inner and Outer Journey of a film story as defined in terms of  ‘change’, you’ll see they are structured identically.

I remembered this review of HANCOCK, where the critic pointed out that early in the movie we realise Hancock is a character who needs redemption. He needs to change. Like Bill Murray’s character in GROUNDHOG DAY, Robert Downey Junior’s character in IRON MAN, Bob in THE INCREDIBLES or THELMA AND LOUISE. Or pretty much any hero in any successful movie. They’re all transformational.

In every movie with a character arc, first there is a more or less visible ‘need for change’.

In this first sequence of many successful films, we see the hero’s flawed behaviour. We understand: this character needs to change in order to find happiness, an emotional or psychological balance, to realise a full life.

Then the Inciting Incident happens. Almost always AFTER we understand the character’s inner problem, that ‘need for change’.

Pondering over this, I started mapping it out over the 3-Act time line and I came to an interesting conclusion: the character journey, whether it is Inner or Outer, has three stages:

1. the need for change (a situation of conflict)
2. the journey of change (obstacles and increased conflict)
3. the result of change (conflict resolved, new situation)

Let’s look how these three stages play out over the inner and outer journey:

INNER JOURNEY (that which brings change to the character’s behaviour)

1. the need for change: opening until inciting incident (halfway Act One)
2. the journey of change: from inciting incident until crisis (end Act Two)
3. the result of change: conflict resolved, new situation (halfway to end of Act Three)

OUTER JOURNEY (that which brings change to the world)

1. the need for change: inciting incident until end of Act One
2. the journey of change: from beginning of Act Two until Resolution
3. the result of change: from Resolution to end of movie

Stages 1. and 3. are much clearer in terms of their visible clues about the change. The second stage (mostly Act Two) is murkier. It is a gradual change, which is a matter of ups and downs, victories and defeats.

The 2nd act Inner Journey is largely defined by the mid point.

Because the Inner Journey is weaker in this act, the mid point (the “S” in the middle on the pic.) keeps the story in balance.

Let’s have a look what this would look like on the 3-Act time line:

The vertical lines are the act breaks, the crosses are Inciting Incident and Climax/Resolution.

So we can conclude the following:

Inner & Outer Journey are identical, only shifted in time.

The meaning of this timeshift is simply the following:

In order to get what s/he wants, the Hero must first transform.

It may not be a new view at story structure, but I haven’t seen this approach anywhere else.
Try it, it may work for you.

Karel FG Segers

Karel Segers wrote his first produced screenplay at age 17. Today he is a story analyst with experience in acquisition, development and production. He has trained students worldwide, and worked with half a dozen Academy Award nominees. Karel speaks more European languages than he has fingers on his left hand, which he is still trying to find a use for in his hometown of Sydney, Australia. The languages, not the fingers.

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But as you’re asking about dialogue, here are some principles that I have observed in great screenplays. And yes: more often than not when writers draw the attention to their dialogue, the story doesn’t work.

These twenty tips are not exhaustive, there are probably another ten major principles and fifty equally valid minor rules of thumb. And each has probably been breached beautifully at some point in great movies.

Feel free to add more or argue any or all of these in the comments.

1. it should never – even remotely – smell like exposition.
2. it should support the subtext, the characters’ secret objective(s).
3. its grammar should be organic and deficient, not perfect.
4. its semantics should be meticulously shaped.5. it should be composed to support the scene’s intended rhythm.
6. it should not sound theatrical unless the character or genre warrants this.
7. lines should get shorter, punchier towards the end of the scene.
8. different characters should have different ‘idiolects’.
9. long dialogue should be broken up by characters’ responses, action etc.
10. avoid talking heads: give characters ‘something to do’ while speaking.
11. strong lines mostly deliver their ‘beat’ at the very end.
12. dialogue shouldn’t open nor end scenes (the latter not a hard rule).
13. characters shouldn’t tell each other what we have already seen.
14. no parentheses unless the line doesn’t work at all without.
15. when a character asks a question, don’t answer it directly.
16. numbers should be spelled out in full.
17. characters should not say exactly what they feel (except in PP2).
18. only use in-jokes, innuendo etc. if the audience understands.
19. avoid tongue-twisters, clever dialogue or lines that stand out.
20. avoid dialogue that only great actors can deliver credibly.

The last two clearly show this is all about spec screenplays by writers who still need to prove themselves. Once you’re up there, you set your own rules. And even then, there are exceptions. Look at the dialogue in Juno. It draws so much attention to itself that some thought those first couple of minutes were borderline indigestible.

Diablo Cody got away with it.

Each principle above is a challenge in itself. That is why often at the very end of your development, when you are tantalisingly close to the final draft, a ‘dialogue pass’ helps making sure every line and every word hits the mark.

Beginning screenwriters can’t always judge whether their own dialogue really works. That’s why it is essential to have a professional do a final polish of your work before you send it out, even if the story works.

Then again, you can avoid all the hard work as tip #20 holds the easy solution to all your dialogue problems.

Just spend an extra ten million on your cast.

Karel FG Segers

Karel Segers wrote his first produced screenplay at age 17. Today he is a story analyst with experience in acquisition, development and production. He has trained students worldwide, and worked with half a dozen Academy Award nominees. Karel speaks more European languages than he has fingers on his left hand, which he is still trying to find a use for in his hometown of Sydney, Australia. The languages, not the fingers.

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The start of Act Two is a good place to move to the antagonist’s POV.

We have just seen that our protagonist is ready to take on the main mission of the film. He knows what he is up against, he may even have a plan on how to approach it.

At the beginning of Act Two, you can immediately increase the stakes by creating dramatic irony. You show the protagonist only knows half of the truth and the antagonist is really a lot more powerful and the protagonist may be missing a crucial piece of information.

The shift can happen to any other character, exceptionally even to an omniscient POV. But the most powerful and most frequently used POV outside the protagonist will be that of the antagonist.

Almost always does this increase the stakes as you show how well the villain is prepared, how much stronger this character is than we (and the protagonist) believed and what he/she is capable of.

One of my favourite Act Two opening scenes is in NORTH BY NORTHWEST. Roger Thornhill has to clear his name of the UN murder and he must find out why he is being mistaken for the mysterious Mr. Roger Kaplan.

At the opening of Act Two we are in a boardroom full of unknown faces. The audience’s instinctive reaction will be to find a character to empathise with, to latch on to. None such in this scene.

This is the Secret Service, discussing a fictitious agent, created by them as a decoy for the spies. Now Roger Thornhill has been identified by the spies as this imaginary agent, the secret’s service’s plan works better than hoped for.

Not only do we now know Thornhill’s predicament, we also realise he cannot expect any support from the government as confirmed in the last line of the scene, spoken by one of the agents:

SECRET AGENT
Goodbye, Mr. Thornhill, wherever you are.

This scene shows how powerful a shift of POV can be to reveal an important piece of information the protagonist doesn’t have.

Another favorite example of dramatic irony created by a shifting point of view is taken from ONE FLEW OVER THE CUCKOO’S NEST and it constitutes the Mid Point Reversal.

McMurphy has just been on a fishing trip with his mates, sampling freedom outside the asylum.

The next scene shows the staff of the asylum discussing his fate, whether they should send him back to the work farm or keep him. McMurphy’s antagonist nurse Ratched drives the scene and the outcome is disastrous: he will stay in the asylum indefinitely.

See also:

Omniscient POV
Shifting POV
When to Shift?
POV in Ratatouille’s Deleted Scene
POV as Controller of Tone

Karel FG Segers

Karel Segers wrote his first produced screenplay at age 17. Today he is a story analyst with experience in acquisition, development and production. He has trained students worldwide, and worked with half a dozen Academy Award nominees. Karel speaks more European languages than he has fingers on his left hand, which he is still trying to find a use for in his hometown of Sydney, Australia. The languages, not the fingers.

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Commercial common sense will tell you: yes, you should.

Robert McKee says: “Tell the truth.” (see the previous post)

McKee means: your story needs to reflect your worldview. If you contradict whatever you believe in for the sake of commerce, you will fail. During his Arthouse seminar, he gives the example of Bergman’s THROUGH A GLASS DARKLY, where Bergman forced an ending upon the story in which he didn’t really believe. The story didn’t work, McKee says. Even the great Bergman couldn’t go against his instinct.

The discussion about happy endings is not exactly the same as the discussion about arcs. Protagonists without arcs have starred in films with tremendous success (see the reference to Mystery Man on Film in the previous post).

Although writers with a positive world may have more success in connecting with a large audience, I believe that talented and skilled screenwriters can create stories that work, irrespective of their worldview.

First-timers will have a harder time.

Here is the dilemma: to break in, you need to write something the market wants to see. Yet you’ll have a better chance if this first spec screenplay is written from the heart. You need to tell the truth.

My advice to beginning screenwriters: see how different genres allow to make different statements about the human condition without compromising the chances of success. Horror, crime and satire are darker genres than romance, adventure or kids movies.

Finally, to illustrate McKee’s point, below is a transcript of his introduction to THROUGH A GLASS DARKLY for British television.
______________________________________

Robert McKee: I saw my first Bergman film in Detroit, Michigan when I was 15. It was The Virgin Spring, a tale of revenge for rape and murder. Next came a comedy, Smiles of a Summer Night. After that Brink of Life, a social drama set in a maternity ward, Monika: A Teenage Love Story, Hour of the Wolf, a psycho-horror film. Bergman was like a one-man film studio bringing a fresh eye to many genres and by word of mouth filling cinemas everywhere. But then in the sixties he became a creature of the critics. They treated his films as intellectual crossword puzzles and drove the audience back behind a barricade of critic-speak � symbology, metaphysics, alienation � until it was impossible to watch a Bergman film without the feeling that you were taking an exam. And that�s where he stands today, on a pedestal, intimidating, distant, watched only by a tiny circle of cineastes. I think that over the years we forgot what the early audiences instinctively knew � above all else, Ingmar Bergman was a master storyteller.

Bergman�s difficult. Not to understand, but emotionally tough. He shines light into the darkest corners of life. He asks us to empathise with complex characters who, although very human, are not particularly loveable. Then he spins his stories over an emotional rollercoaster, taking us on a quest for the truth, truth that explodes the little lies that make life comfortable. To watch a Bergman film you have to be willing to invest all your humanity, to open yourself up, to care about life so much you want to know the truth though heaven may fall. It is not intellect Bergman demands so much as courage.

Bergman�s also difficult because he explains nothing. He doesn�t force his ideas into the mouths of his characters. Like Hollywood he tells stories visually, writes naturalistic dialogue and layers his meaning in the subtext. Unlike Hollywood his films are not tales of wish fulfilment, telling seductive lies about how everything works out for the best.

1a: The Film

�for now we see through a glass, darkly:
but then face to face; now I know in part;
but then I shall know even as also I am known

Karel FG Segers

Karel Segers wrote his first produced screenplay at age 17. Today he is a story analyst with experience in acquisition, development and production. He has trained students worldwide, and worked with half a dozen Academy Award nominees. Karel speaks more European languages than he has fingers on his left hand, which he is still trying to find a use for in his hometown of Sydney, Australia. The languages, not the fingers.

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(Report by John Haly,
Thank you to Tony Chu)

Karel -a Belgian producer and script consultant – founded OZZYWOOD Films and The Story Department (which is a unique Australian blog and online resource for screen story theory). Karel headed production and programming at London’s Digital Broadcasting Company and was a film buyer for CANAL+, (Europe’s largest pay TV service). He was the host for a movie show for MTV Europe. His production credits included two short dramas, a documentary and a feature film. In post-production, he has a short animation and a feature film. As a script consultant, he has clients both in Australia and overseas. Of interest to Nafa members, he also runs regular workshops on script writing. A notable fact is that the 2007 nominees and also the winner of the Australian Writer Guild Monte Miller Award were Karel’s clients. Accordingly, if you are a script writer, you will, indeed, be well advised to pay particular attention to his views on ‘What our industry needs is a Story Revolution’.

Karel began by delving back into his personal history stating that he had started in Radio as a reporter who would phone in initial reviews of films for night radio – a far cry from the online internet reviewing of films of the contemporary culture. His first venture into a screenplay dates back to 1989, although he admits to abandoning that path because of early criticism by an established script writer. His next attempt was twelve years later, and he promptly lost the first draft.

In 2001, he moved to Australia where he co-produced a documentary and then a short film, but the last didn’t go anywhere. The next film was “Aerosol” which was dispatched to, and was selected by a few film festivals, but won no significant prizes. As a consequence, he then contemplated a change of direction and began studying and reading in an effort to get new insights as to the creative writing process.

The author at the top of his reading list was Robert McKee. McKee’s book, ‘Story’ is considered by some as the “screenwriters’ bible”. When purchasing the software for screen writing called ‘Power Structure’, he was offered at a reduced price a DVD called ‘The Hero’s 2 Journeys’ which was promoted as extremely enlightening material capable of educating writers and which revealed the template upon which the vast majority of successful stories and Hollywood blockbusters are based. Michael Hauge and Christopher Vogler’s DVD opened Karel’s eyes as it offered a unique insiders’ understanding of the ways screenplay structure, character, and theme must combine to be successful.

Karel became aware of the sad fact that there seemed to be little by the way of ‘Story Education’ available in Australia. Michael Hauge’s principles were applied in advising writers of script plays. With the aid of AFC funding, it became possible to produce a following accompanied by good results. He educated writers that the structure of writing was important, particularly from the perspective of Character. His insight centred on the question: Where does drama happen? He emphasises that it is not in the visualisation of the story, but the subtext beneath the story that good scriptwriting lies.

The fault to which many writers fall prey is that of visualising the scene as they are writing, thus thinking in terms of pictures. As it is a visual media up with which we end, we must keep in mind into what it is that a visual story latches in the minds of the audience – for example, that of ‘Desire’! The question that ought to be at the centre of your script should focus on the desires and objectives of your characters because film ‘hangs together’ with the emotions of “Desire”.

A frequent criticism of Australian films is that they have weak protagonists, (i.e. those without will power). If you give your protagonist a visible goal with a desire and will to get there, then you are more likely to engage your audience. The essence of Michael Hauge’s proposition is that you need a character who has a visible goal with a clearly defined end-point.

Karel recalled the Columbia University educator, Frank Daniel, who was noted for his development of the sequence paradigm of Screenwriting. Frank’s conception of a good protagonist was ‘somebody who wants something badly and has difficulty getting it.”

Karel turned to the audience to ask, ‘As a screen writer what is your primary goal?’ After a few financial and entertaining replies, someone suggested ‘to tell a story’. Karel then asked, ‘Why are you telling that story?’ Quoting Michael Hauge, his answer was two words, ‘elicit emotion’. In order to do this, there are three things with which a screen writer can play. 1. Character, 2. Desire, 3. Conflict.

The best way Karel can find to illustrate this is simply through the examples of successful films, which is what he uses when he runs his workshops. Irrespective of whether it is a Mainline or Arthouse movie, they all follow the same structure. The film ‘Die Hard’ deals with a man seeking to stop the criminals. ‘Jaws’ relates to a man’s desire to stop the Shark. Consider an Oscar winning Arthouse movie: “The Lives of Others’ where in the first half, the protagonist desires to expose the director while in the second half, he wishes to protect him.

As a screenwriter, you need to structure the desire. (Characters need structure in their desire). Your audience needs to know in the first act what that desire is. Your character also needs to resonate with the audience, exhibiting his or her human flaws. It is the flaw that holds the need of the protagonist. In ‘Die Hard, while desiring to stop the criminals, his flaw was that he was afraid to tackle the criminals who held his wife hostage. In the “The Lives of Others”, the protagonist changes his mind mid way. Audiences expect to perceive this desire, even if it is not spelled out.

As Aristotle distinguishes: a whole is that which has a beginning, a middle, and an end. In the beginning, the audience is introduced to the setting, the characters, their situation,/conflict and the goal they desire. In short, something happens, unexpectedly, which defines the story to come. To paraphrase Aristotle, ‘A beginning is that which does not itself follow anything by causal necessity, but after which something naturally is or comes to be’.

In ‘Die Hard’ the building is stopped while John McClane goes up to the highest floor to get a bird’s eye perspective and think through his options. He says to himself, ‘Think, think, think’. [KS: The exact same words are used by Woody in Toy Story 2 after Wheezy is taken away.] The initial plot point of confusion [KS: In the Hero’s Journey the ‘Mentor’ stage, ‘Refusing the Call’] shifts to the derivation of a plan and new plot point – an event followed by a reaction. Something happens, a plan evolves and the pursuit of activity begins and continues all the way to a resolution.

Karel advised that as a Script writer you should ask yourself, ‘What is the reason this story is being told?’. As for Karel himself, he was sitting here talking to us because he was strongly motivated by the desire to see a revolution in the way Australian Script writers create stories. He proclaimed, ‘Make sure there is a connection between yourself and the story you are telling. There is a requirement to want to connect to an audience.’

It is in the tribal ethos of ancient days that the storyteller tells stories relevant to their tribes. They are told not only to get the message across, but also to create such impact that the stories are repeatedly retold to subsequent generations of that tribe. It is important whether you be scriptwriters or producers or directors, that you choose the scripts that can best tell the story.

Be aware that the contemporary tribe of humanity is being conditioned by the way a story is being told in film and theatre. Be conscious of writing structure as it is entering an arena, a tribe, a society that is accustomed to perceive in a specific manner. Don’t be dismissive of the formula for telling the story in film just because you want to be ‘different’, or because your audience has been conditionally seasoned, even if they are not consciously aware of being told a story with a definite style.

Karel moved on to seek to discredit a few commonly held myths. The first one is that writers should rush out and buy specific Screen Writing Software such as ‘Final Draft’. In the first place, there are plenty of free alternatives out there for Microsoft word templates, [KS: Celtx] etc. Primarily, it initially tempts you to write in scenes, when it is the story you first need to relate. Reading scripts to get the format right as a pre-requisite encourages the visualisation of scenes when first, you should be concentrating on the story. Try watching a movie, break it down and decode it yourself rather than reading or writing a script (story first, script last).

The next myth concerns language. Some writers love flowery prose. Question yourself as to whether your objective is to write something that only reads well, or do you wish to write a story of substance? Identify: where is the story? Do you have a character with a desire? Where is the conflict in the story? This, as your primary guideline becomes the focus of the storyline.

The next myth concerns Log Lines. (A Log Line is a brief summary of the film, often providing both a synopsis of the program’s plot, and an emotional “hook” to stimulate interest). Karel confessed for a long time that he believed that the Log Line was the last thing you wrote after the script and synopsis. He is now firmly convinced the opposite is true.

If you want to know more about the importance of Log Lines go to ‘The Unknown Screen Writer’ and ‘Mystery Man on Film‘. These will help you to use correctly the Log Lines – a procedure the importance of which cannot be overestimated. These are the selling lines of your film which you must know before you start writing. Formulate a Log Line of: who is your character? What does the character want?- and- What is the obstacle(s) in his way? Try to compose your log line by writing it down as soon as possible as this keeps you in focus. That great idea that pops into your head during the writing! Does it fit into your Log Line? If not, put it aside because it has no place in your story. Keep it for your next script.

Karel then suggested that the biggest mistake people make in the attempt to sell their scripts is to dispatch them too early. Sending and then resending draft versions is the quickest way to ensure that the people reading the dispatched articles lose interest. By resending a newer, updated version of the script, you are admitting to the producer or director that you sent them a previous script that you well knew wasn’t ready.

Following on from that theme, Karel pointed out that formatting the script is not important until you have the story written. As Art Arthur said: ‘Don’t get it right, get it written!’ Once it is written in the final draft, THEN there are formatting rules to which you need to comply. It is then that those slug lines, script punctation and the absence of typos needs to be scrupulously addressed.

Karel noted that studies of the Australian Government Feature Film Funding have shown that only about 19 out of some 419 films actually made money. He impressively expressed the point that our essential requirement was to think about the market. Again, he reiterated the need for writers to understand and act on the principles espoused in “The Hero’s Journey”.

Despite the perception that both Germans and Australians possess an inherent hero phobia, explore the successful films in our own industry, and that, in itself, will disabuse any such notion.

At this point, Jeanie opened the floor to questions. These included ones concerning the cultural differences between countries when it came to making films. This, in turn, raised the topic of our anxiety of being commercially successful. Questions about breaking the rules for film structure returned a reply of: ‘how about mastering the ‘Rules‘ first BEFORE contemplating breaking them- not the other way around.

Tony concluded the evening by thanking Karel for his contribution. Karel spoke privately to people as they approached him and eventually the evening broke up, as actors, producers and director’s networks chatted on before being kindly ejected by the Bar Staff wishing to close. Some of us spilled out onto the sidewalks to continue our conversations till the passing night drew us to the consideration that we should be homeward bound.

Karel FG Segers

Karel Segers wrote his first produced screenplay at age 17. Today he is a story analyst with experience in acquisition, development and production. He has trained students worldwide, and worked with half a dozen Academy Award nominees. Karel speaks more European languages than he has fingers on his left hand, which he is still trying to find a use for in his hometown of Sydney, Australia. The languages, not the fingers.

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The Lives of Others
(Das leben der anderen)
(Germany, 2006)
Written and Directed by Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck

-by Stuart Voytilla

The Lives of Others is a story about transformation and learning how to do the right thing. This film also reveals the interdependence of physical and emotional journeys that characters often take. In some stories, the protagonist may initially enter the journey anticipating an emotional change or elixir; romance and romantic comedy are two genres that regularly celebrate a character’s willing pursuit of emotional growth. For other journeys, the Hero may not initially realize that he or she needs to change; their view of life may be clouded by a flaw or misperception, or even restricted from seeing life’s potential benefits. This protagonist begins a trek determined to accomplish a physical goal, unprepared that this pursuit will transform him or her in an emotional and significant way. Such is Wiesler’s Journey in The Lives of Others.

Captain Wiesler initiates his journey to reveal playwright Georg Dreyman as an enemy of Socialism. This is Wiesler’s physical goal, and one that he willingly pursues as part of his Ordinary World as a loyal agent of East Germany’s secret police, Stasi. Initially a dispassionate observer, Wiesler becomes an active participant in the lives of Dreyman and Christa-Maria, and his loyalty to his career and government crumbles. His transformation becomes a poignant metaphor for the collapse of the German Democratic Government. In Act III, the fall of the Berlin Wall signals a resurrection for Germany and for Wiesler; the former agent is honored by Dreyman for his service as a ‘good man. ‘

Since movies allow us to show character, revealed by action, we can appreciate von Donnersmarck’s choice to mark Wiesler’s transformation by his profession. Initially, Wiesler’s job is secluded in an attic, with earphones attached to his head, listening and monitoring the secrets of others. He sacrifices his career for the lives of Georg and Christa-Maria. Still under the Stasi, Wiesler steams envelopes. But with Glasnost, Wiesler leaves the basement steaming room, and soon serves his country and his countrymen as a mail carrier. No longer the isolated revealer of secrets, he now walks the streets as a deliverer of people’s privacy.

But Wiesler isn’t the only character that grows in this story. He becomes a catalyst that triggers transformation in the others that he observes. Notably:

• Georg Dreyman goes from celebrated and loyal playwright of the GDR to activist against the system.

• Christa-Maria transforms from loving girlfriend to tragic informant.

As you explore this movie, also consider how art, or lack of it, defines a character’s life:

• Art provides contrast between protagonist and antagonist, for example, Wiesler’s austere apartment versus Dreyman’s richly decorated flat.

• After seven years of being blacklisted, Jerska questions his life for he’s no longer allowed to create his art. How can he be a director without a play to direct?This realization pushes him toward suicide.

• Wiesler’s supervisor, Grubitz, relishes that their interrogation practices effectively destroys the creative life of the artist.

• To show his allegiance to the system, Wiesler threatens to destroy Christa-Maria’s ‘life’ in the theatre. This pushes her to reveal the hidden typewriter. However, she realizes that by informing upon her boyfriend she may have retained her life on stage, but she’s destroyed the creator of her stage world.

• After Christa-Maria’s death, Dreyman can no longer write. When he discovers that his apartment was wired, and that Wiesler protected him, Dreyman elevates Wiesler’s life into art with his published work ‘Sonata for a Good Man. ‘

JERSKA AS MENTOR

Jerska becomes an important mentor for both Dreyman and Wiesler. Jerska is Dreyman’s master director, but he’s been silenced by an informant. As Wiesler observes Dreyman, he too becomes influenced by Jerska:

• Wiesler questions the evidence that destroyed Jerska’s career and life.

• Wiesler ‘borrows’ the book of Brecht that Jerska was reading at the party, thus bringing this inspirational art into his own apartment.

• Wiesler cries as Dreyman plays the ‘Sonata for a Good Man’, a birthday gift from Jerska and the inspiration for Dreyman’s final dedication to Wiesler’s sacrifice.

And of course, we must consider the significance of Jerska’s gift as it helps structure the story.

JERSKA‘S GIFT

Jerska’s gift of the ‘Sonata for a Good Man’ marks the turning points of the Journey of Transformation for both Dreyman and Wiesler. This birthday gift was intended to push Dreyman to act as the ‘good man. ‘The unwrapping of the gift is a Turning Point from Act I to Act II in Dreyman’s journey, and sets up the larger Journey’s Crossing of the Threshold.

Jerska’s suicide forces Dreyman to do the right thing, and compose the article for Der Spiegel. The Sonata’s title resonates during the scene in the tavern when Wiesler helps Christa-Maria, and she thanks this ‘good man. ‘Their encounter and Jerska’s suicide/Dreyman’s decision to write the article are significant during the Journey’s Ordeal or Midpoint.

During the Journey’s Road Back Sequence, and the Plot Point from Act II to Act III, Wiesler acts as the ‘good man’ and steals the typewriter. During the story’s final moments, the Sonata’s title becomes the title for Dreyman’s book that celebrates Wiesler’s sacrifice, and completes Wiesler’s Resurrection as a ‘Good Man. ‘

THE JOURNEY

In the following Journey Breakdown, I’ve presented some of the key story moments with an interpretation of their representative Hero’s Journey stage. The focus here is on Wiesler’s Journey. I encourage you to also look at this story through Dreyman’s journey, through his eyes and his actions.

Note that in Act IIA and IIB, I’ve emphasized two Ordeals. Since Wiesler travels a physical and emotional Journey, he experiences two central ordeals, one for each Journey. Each Ordeal brings a Reward but these Rewards collide, as Wiesler must choose between his loyalty to country, and his allegiance to his new friends, Dreyman and Christa-Maria.

Act I: The Journey‘s Separation

‘Will Captain Wiesler reveal Dreyman as an enemy of Socialism?’

Captain Wiesler serves as a loyal agent of the Stasi, determined to reveal the enemies of Socialism. (Ordinary World)

A former classmate and now head of the Culture Department at the State Security, Grubitz assigns Wiesler to monitor playwright Georg Dreyman, and his girlfriend-leading lady Christa-Maria. (Call to Adventure)

Wiesler’s team bugs Dreyman’s flat (Ordinary World), and he inhabits the attic for monitoring. (I see this sequence as another reflection of Wiesler’s Ordinary World. The unexpected problem that disrupts Wiesler’s Ordinary World arrives with the mysterious car. )

Wiesler observes a mysterious car drop Christa-Maria off at Dreyman’s flat, and Wiesler notes the license number. (Call to Adventure)

Wiesler listens to Dreyman’s birthday party, and observes that Dreyman does not speak up against the GDR. Later that night, Dreyman opens his gift from Jerska, piano music titled ‘Sonata for a Good Man. ‘He and Christa-Maria make love. (This rich sequence weaves several stages. Notably, it is a Refusal of his Call to reveal Dreyman as an enemy. But it’s also a Meeting of the Mentor, an invitation for Wiesler to be influenced by Dreyman’s world and his love shared with Christa-Maria. )

Grubitz informs Wiesler that the mysterious car belongs to Minister Hempf. And Grubitz warns Wiesler to strike this information from the record, for they are not allowed to monitor fellow members. (This Meeting of the Mentor is a significant Plot Point that initiates Wiesler’s Crossing of the Threshold. Wiesler realizes that he’s being used by Hempf to get rid of a rival, and Wiesler questions his loyalty. )

Wiesler completes the Crossing of the Threshold when he rings the doorbell, prompting Dreyman to discover Christa-Maria emerging from Hempf’s car. (This signals a moment of decision and action on the part of Wiesler. He’s longer a passive observer, but an active participant in the lives of Dreyman and Christa-Maria. )

Act IIA: The Journey‘s Descent

‘Will Wiesler help save the relationship between Dreyman and Christa-Maria?’

Wiesler’s Crossing of the Threshold has unsettled Wiesler’s personal world and his professional loyalty. His observations and actions are beginning to affect him and his world; these series of events Test his transformation.

Having observed Dreyman’s and Christa-Maria’s night of pain and shame, Wiesler’s doesn’t know how to feel and finds comfort with a prostitute. (Test)

Later, Wiesler enters Dreyman’s flat and takes his Brecht book, bringing this literature and art into his own apartment. (Test)

Hidden in the attic, Wiesler listens to Dreyman’s phone call announcing the suicide of Jerska. Dreyman mourns his friend’s death by playing the ‘Sonata for a Good Man’. Wiesler listens and cries. (Approach to the Inmost Cave)

When a boy at an elevator confesses his father’s disdain of the Stasi, Wiesler stops himself from demanding the father’s name. (Test)

With growing pressure from Hempf, Grubitz pushes Wiesler to ‘find something’ on Dreyman. Grubitz warns Wiesler of a rendezvous planned between Hempf and Christa-Maria that will jeopardize her relationship with Dreyman. (Approach to the Inmost Cave)

The Story’s First Ordeal works as a ‘death’ that affects several characters and their goals. Mourning Jerska’s death, Dreyman fears he’s lost his passion for writing. (An Ordeal)Christa-Maria prepares to leave Dreyman to ‘see a classmate’. Dreyman speaks his suspicions that she is going to sleep with Hempf. Dreyman asks her to trust herself as an artist, and to stay. But Christa-Maria questions both of their ‘needs’ for Hempf and the system he represents. She may sleep with Hempf for her art, but as the GDR’s favorite playwright, hasn’t Dreyman been sleeping with the system as well?Wiesler observes this Ordeal – a ‘death’ of their relationship, of their art, and of their allegiance to the system. Wiesler is interrupted by his surveillance replacement before knowing the outcome of this Ordeal. But Wiesler can’t simply walk away from these lives, and slips into a nearby tavern where he has an accidental encounter with Christa-Maria. Boldly Wiesler complements her as a great artist. She thanks Wiesler, telling him that he is ‘a good man. ‘Wiesler’s actions prompt Christa-Maria to rush back to Dreyman. The celebration of their love also gives Dreyman renewed strength as a writer. (The Resurrection of the Ordeal)

Act IIB: The Journey‘s Initiation

‘Will Wiesler protect his job and reveal Dreyman’s disloyalty?’

The primary Reward earned from the First Ordeal is Dreyman’s renewed passion for his writing. But his writing is now directed against the system that has destroyed his friend, Jerska, and threatened to destroy Christa-Maria. Dreyman prepares to write an essay revealing that the GDR has been hiding statistics of the high rate of suicide, especially amongst the artists.

This is also the Reward that Wiesler has been seeking to confirm his initial goal: to reveal Dreyman’s disloyalty.

Dreyman brings his friends back to his flat to make their plans. He assures them that his flat isn’t bugged. They Test his theory speaking openly about secretly bringing a relative across the border. Wiesler prepares to call the Border Agent, but doesn’t go through with it. (Wiesler’s monitoring Dreyman’s ongoing plot Tests the Stasi agent’s two conflicting goals: to reveal Dreyman as traitor; and to protect Dreyman as artist – to help him become the ‘good man’ that Jerska had hoped Dreyman would become. )

Wiesler’s transformation as a ‘good man’ is rebuffed when he discovers that the person he helped cross the border was the editor of Der Spiegel. Furthermore, Dreyman’s arrogant shouting in defiance of the system pushes Wiesler to compile the evidence for Grubitz. (Approach to the Inmost Cave)

Wiesler meets with Grubitz where his two conflicting goals collide head-on. Holding his sealed report in his hand, Wiesler listens to Grubitz praise their interrogation system that successfully destroys the artist. Witnessing his mentor’s arrogance, Wiesler keeps the evidence and requests that they step down their operations against Dreyman. (The Second Ordeal)

Wiesler’s action allows Dreyman to complete the anti-GDR article, which is published in Der Spiegel. Dreyman and Christa-Maria make love, while Hempf sulks without a bedmate. But these Rewards threaten Wiesler’s career; Grubitz begins to question Wiesler’s loyalty.

With pressure from Hempf to destroy Christa-Maria’s theatrical career, Grubitz interrogates her and forces Christa-Maria to name Dreyman as the author of the Der Spiegel article. Monitoring from the attic, Wiesler listens to the search of Dreyman’s flat. He now knows that Grubitz is suspicious of Wiesler, but Wiesler’s relieved when the search team fails to find Dreyman’s typewriter. Grubitz pressures Wiesler to interrogate Christa-Maria, and prove that he is still on the ‘right side’. Wiesler faces Christa-Maria and threatens to destroy her art and her ‘life’ unless she can reveal the location of the typewriter. She gives up the location, but Wiesler defies Grubitz and returns to Dreyman’s apartment to take the evidence. Christa-Maria’s revelation is the story’s Plot Point or moment of greatest despair – and it initiates the Road Back sequence.

Act III: The Journey‘ Return

‘Will Wiesler recognize himself as a Good Man?’

The Road Back continues at Dreyman’ flat. As Dreyman arrives, Wiesler slips away with the typewriter. Armed with his search team, Grubitz personally uncovers the hiding place, but it’ empty. During this ‘death’ moment, Dreyman confirms Christa-Maria’ deception. And she realizes that she has lost love and life. Wiesler witnesses her tragic exit.

Without the damning evidence of the typewriter, and with the death of Christa-Maria, Grubitz closes the investigation against Dreyman. But Grubitz makes Wiesler suffer for his sacrifice, and demotes him to years of service steaming open envelopes.

This Road Back sequence is a Resurrection for Wiesler’ Journey to do the right thing, and become a ‘good man’. But this doesn’t complete his transformation, and his Journey. He has sacrificed his career to protect Dreyman, and now recognizes how the system destroys its people. Wiesler’ Resurrection will be complete when he’ honored for his sacrifice, and receives the assurance that indeed he is a ‘good man’. That assurance comes from Dreyman who takes over the Journey in Act III.

Christa-Maria’ death and the fall of the Berlin Wall have silenced Dreyman’ voice as a playwright. After an encounter with Hempf, Dreyman confirms that his flat was wired. He investigates the agent in charge of the surveillance and discovers that agent ‘HGW XX/7′ was his protector. Dreyman and Wiesler have now switched positions within the story’ journey. Dreyman observes his ‘guardian angel’ from a distance and finally writes his ‘report’ – a book celebrating Wiesler’ sacrifice. This Resurrection sequence restores Dreyman’ faith in humanity, his passion to write, and elevates Wiesler’ life to a work of art.

Delivering mail, Wiesler passes a store window and discovers the display of Dreyman’ Elixir ‘Sonata for a Good Man. ‘Wiesler reads the dedication, and purchases the gift. ‘It’ for me. ‘ (Return with the Elixir)

FADE OUT.

Stuart Voytilla

Stuart Voytilla is a writer and producer, known for Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (2002), The Death of Poe (2006) and The Sorcerer of Stonehenge School (2005).

write-brain.com

What Aristotle was talking about, in screen story terms we call the inciting incident. Anything before that, he called the prologue, which we know as the setup, the normal life of the protagonist or ordinary world of the hero.

The inciting incident is the first point in the film something happens truly out of the ordinary. It is often a surprising event, both to the audience and the protagonist. At that point it is clear: the story has well and truly started.

After the inciting incident, do we know what the story is about yet? No. For this, we need to wait until the end of Act One, until we understand what the protagonist’s mission, objective or outer desire will be for most of the story.

To be a successful screenwriter you really need to fully understand this first crucial moment in the story. Let’s look at what it means, what others say it does and what essential aspects you need in order to make it work.

One thing is absolutely certain: without a strong inciting incident you will have a hard time getting your audience glued to their seats.

Next: Definitions of Inciting Incident >>

Karel FG Segers

Karel Segers wrote his first produced screenplay at age 17. Today he is a story analyst with experience in acquisition, development and production. He has trained students worldwide, and worked with half a dozen Academy Award nominees. Karel speaks more European languages than he has fingers on his left hand, which he is still trying to find a use for in his hometown of Sydney, Australia. The languages, not the fingers.

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I am not sure which film this student had in mind as a successful example of non-conventional structure, but I bet you it was PULP FICTION. Ever since 1994, filmmakers have been hoping to get away with it in the same way Tarantino did. In my view PF has done far more damage to the craft of screenwriting than its success will ever justify. The irony is that PULP FICTION is relatively conventional in its structure, just not linear. Check Linda Aronson’s book SCREENWRITING UPDATED.

But all that is completely beside the point. The point is that writers often have this immature attitude. “But my script is different.” Another one that keeps coming back: “Hollywood only makes crap, audiences really don’t want to see that stuff anymore.” This one I only heard today: “It all works in my head, the film experience will be very different from the script!”

Call me conservative but the more I learn about film, the more I am convinced audiences are conditioned by an increasingly structured type of filmmaking. Time and time again I hear people rejecting structure one minute, and raving about highly structured films the next.

Ever since the story of a boy and a princess in space 30 years ago, audiences – whether you like it or not – have been conditioned by a more sophisticated version of the 3-act structure, i.e. the Hero’s Journey. And this process has only been reinforced since that paradigm was written down by Christopher Vogler. (I almost called The Hero’s Journey ‘a structure’ but it was never really intended to be. Yet it can often be elegantly blended with the three act structure.)

LEARN THE RULES, THEN BREAK THE RULES

Despite my endless complaints about Australian writers, I have had the pleasure and honour of meeting and working with dozens of writers who are dedicated to learning the craft. They read, study, analyse, attend seminars etc.

Most of them learn with the intention of later applying what they have learned. Others take the basics on board and explore ways of being original and creative within the boundaries. Yet others fully intend to knowingly break the rules with their first screenplay.

Now that may be unwise.

The statement above reading “Learn the Rules, then Break the Rules” is in my view a dangerous one. I would rather replace it with something like:

“Master the Rules, then Bend Them.”

It often happens that screenwriters only get their first screenplay made after years of learning the craft. When the film finally hits the screen, they realises that although they believed they had learned the skills, they hadn’t. An audience is a funny thing. You want them to feel this way, but they respond that way.

As a writer you won’t know if you actually master the craft until the film goes out and is successful. Believing that you can learn the rules and break them with your first script, is a dangerous illusion.

Of course every year there will be at least one success story of a breakthrough screenplay that didn’t apply the principles. Everybody will write and talk about that one person. Bottomline: if you are in this game for the long term, it pays to look at the statistics and then review your chances.

THE ONE THAT GOT AWAY

I am currently working with a client on a screenplay that reminded me in some peripheral way of the French rural drama Jean de Florette, starring Gerard Depardieu and the late Yves Montand*. I watched the film again with my wife and paid attention to its structure.

Although I had seen the film at least twice before, what I found out this time, literally blew me away.

The screenplay was adapted by director Claude Berri and veteran scribe Gerard Brach, from a hugely successful original French classic by Marcel Pagnol. The film had been a breakout arthouse hit across the world, with major prizes in its home country but also in England and the U.S. where it was nominated for a Golden Globe.

My wife and I had seen this film last about ten years ago, yet neither of us remembered much of the plot. We did remember the characters and even individual scenes. Not the plot.

Why??

Because the structure is quite extraordinary.

The whole film is structured following a text-book three-act structure. Inciting incident, first act turning point, second act are all ‘tres formulaic’. But what seemed unusual to me, and the primary reason why I think this film still looked so fresh to us: the story is structured around the antagonist’s journey.

My advise: don’t try this at home. As a beginning screenwriter, make sure you try your hand at convential material before you venture into this type of territory. The screenwriters of Jean de Florette were both highly experienced, with many successes to their names. Unfortunately, although the follow-up to Jean de Florette (Manon des Sources) may have brought a more upbeat closing to the rural saga, the writing was less inspiring.

When you have the chance, do watch both films, analyse these structural exceptions and asks yourself what is different, why this one works and the other doesn’t (so well).

It is always fascinating.

*Nice coincidence: when I was out the following night my wife randomly picked the Marilyn Monroe classic “Let’s make Love” from our DVD shelf and watched it, only to find it had – again – Yves Montand in a major role.

THE WORKSHOPS WORK

More than one week to go until 10 February and the Sydney story workshop is sold out. This weekend I’ll be teaching for the first time in Queensland, at the International Film College. My next Sydney Workshop will be on Sunday 13 April and bookings are open now.

The emphasis of the workshops has shifted slightly. The first sessions were heavily theoretical, focusing on aspects of the 3-act structure. Lately I have shifted towards more practical examples from a wider diversity of films, both old and recent, across completely different genres: from action movie to comedy, from Touch of Evil (1958) and Die Hard (1988) to The Incredibles (2004) and The Lives of Others (2006).

Some people find that the material taught in these classes is advanced. Let me tell you this: it is not. It represents the bare essentials. It is the absolute minimum you need to know if you want to even consider breaking into the scene. That doesn’t mean that it will sink in the first time around. You will still need to watch films, analyse them and apply what you have learned to your own work.

Next, you will need to call in the assistance from a professional. But you will be so much better prepared to enter into a dialogue about your work if you have laid the foundations by learning the terminology. Not only will it speed up your development, it will potentially save you hundreds or thousands of dollars as your script editor will talk to you about your script on your level.

THE PREMIUM EDITION

The Premium Edition has had visitors from New York to the country of Jean de Florette (Provence, South of France), from Australia’s East and West Coasts to the City Library of Amsterdam. Meanwhile, the first paying subscribers have signed up, from Australia and overseas!

Eight users are online while I am writing this, of which no less than seven guests and a few search engine spiders. Check it out for yourself by subscribing for a year at only the cost of one cappuccino a fortnight.

Among the newly added content, Premium Members now have also access to a list of mistakes I have come across in screenplays lately, as well as a few suggestions on how to avoid them.

In the coming days and weeks new articles will be added and I will be conducting an interview with Michael Hauge (who is coming to Australia this May) and will talk about the dangers of mystery.

Karel FG Segers

Karel Segers wrote his first produced screenplay at age 17. Today he is a story analyst with experience in acquisition, development and production. He has trained students worldwide, and worked with half a dozen Academy Award nominees. Karel speaks more European languages than he has fingers on his left hand, which he is still trying to find a use for in his hometown of Sydney, Australia. The languages, not the fingers.

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It is not enough to know and understand Syd Field’s set of phrases, as some hot shots may only be familiar with McKee. Unfortunately different people have different definitions for the exact same term.

This is my attempt to broadly define the most essential notions, informed by the best known theories, but influenced by the need to make them useful to the screenwriter rather than the analyst. Some theories are great to analyse finished films, but useless when you are stuck in your second draft. I hope that my definitions will help in identifying problems.

I will occasionally add to the list and modify definitions. If you disagree with anything or the explanation is not clear, feel free to flag this to me.

Normal Life

Also: opening, ordinary World, normal life, prologue, Journey Stage One.

Inciting Incident

Also: disturbance, catalyst, beginning

First Act Turning Point

Also: act one turning point, first threshold, first turning point, plot point one.

Mid-Point

Also: mid point reversal, point of no return, mid turning-point

Crisis

Also: ordeal, low point

Second Act Turning Point

Also: plot point two, crossing the 2nd threshold

Climax and Resolution

Sequence

Also: journey stage, block

Plot Point

See: Plot Point

Point of View

See: Point of View

From the above follows:

Act One

Some people will say this is the

Karel FG Segers

Karel Segers wrote his first produced screenplay at age 17. Today he is a story analyst with experience in acquisition, development and production. He has trained students worldwide, and worked with half a dozen Academy Award nominees. Karel speaks more European languages than he has fingers on his left hand, which he is still trying to find a use for in his hometown of Sydney, Australia. The languages, not the fingers.

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]]> https://www.thestorydepartment.com/glossary/feed/ 0 112 https://www.thestorydepartment.com/bring-on-the-hero/ https://www.thestorydepartment.com/bring-on-the-hero/#respond Wed, 24 Oct 2007 11:36:46 +0000 https://bring-on-the-hero/ Read more]]> About ten years ago I was first introduced to the Hero’s Journey. Since then I have found myself regularly relying on it when explaining story structure. Today I wanted to write an article about why I believe the Hero’s Journey is such a popular model for screenwriters and story teachers. Then I stumbled on the following:

“Australia and Germany are two cultures that seem slightly herophobic.”
–Christopher Vogler

The National Screenwriters Conference is over and I didn’t attend. But thanks to ScreenHub I know I missed an interesting discussion between AFC script guru Karin Altmann and Clubland scribe Keith Thompson.

I recommend reading the whole article, (as a matter of fact I recommend getting a subscription to ScreenHub and reading the full coverage from the conference) but here is the quote that set me off on my journey today:

Keith is wary of scripting how-to books, believing that they hold the potential for all movies to end up looking the same. Similarly, an overt focus on structure may be to the detriment of the script overall. He prefers to discuss scripts using more generic terms such as beginning, middle and end. The hero’s journey (a la Campbell and Vogler) should be approached warily.

Keep this in mind and let’s go back to that quote above this post.

Australia and Germany are two cultures that seem slightly herophobic.

Vogler must have good reasons for such a statement. In the case of Germany I accept the statement without further ado. Didn’t their last hero get them in a bit of a pickle?

But on what basis would he put Australians and Germans in the same context?

The Australians distrust appeals to heroic virtue because such concepts have been used to lure generations of young Australian males into fighting Britain’s battles. Australians have their heroes, of course, but they tend to be unassuming and self-effacing, and will remain reluctant for much longer than heroes in other cultures.[…]

That doesn’t mean we don’t have heroes at all:

The most admirable hero is one who denies his heroic role as long as possible and who, like Mad Max, avoids accepting responsibility for anyone but himself.

Now that last definition sounds like familiar Hollywood territory to me and it can be applied just as much to Maximus in Gladiator and John McClane in Die Hard as to Spider-Man, who needs to be constantly reminded of his responsibility as super-hero.

We all know that the movies Australians like are not very different from the rest of the world, as prove the numbers.

Obviously the situation is very different when we look at the type of films we are making. Suddenly Chris Vogler’s words are getting a different meaning.

Have a look here: Australian Films at the Box Office

What does this teach us? If anybody is herophobic, it is the Australian screenwriter, not the cinema goer.

Ironic how I was going to make a very different point about the Hero’s Journey but via a little detour I have come to the same conclusion:

If Australian filmmakers want to re-connect with the Australian audience – or any audience for that matter – they better stop refusing the call of the Hero’s Journey.

Karel FG Segers

Karel Segers wrote his first produced screenplay at age 17. Today he is a story analyst with experience in acquisition, development and production. He has trained students worldwide, and worked with half a dozen Academy Award nominees. Karel speaks more European languages than he has fingers on his left hand, which he is still trying to find a use for in his hometown of Sydney, Australia. The languages, not the fingers.

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