by K.M. Weiland

The antagonist doesn’t have to be a person. It could be weather, circumstances, or the protagonist’s inner self. But, more often than not, the antagonist takes the form of a person. And crafting that person into a memorable and compelling character in his own right is vital to the success of your story.

Your antagonist needs to summon up reader emotions that are just as strong as those felt for the protagonist. Hateable bad guys will deepen reader sympathy for your protagonist. But, beyond even that, bad guys with whom the reader can identify to at least some degree are bad guys who will make him squirm even more.

Let’s a take a look at several categories into which your antagonist may fall, so you can choose the best one for your story.

Your antagonist needs to summon up reader emotions.

The Immoral Antagonist

This is easily the most popular form of antagonist. The bad guy is one readers will have no trouble hating. He is usually set in clear contrast against the good-guy hero. The lines are drawn in varying shades of black and white, and readers have no problem choosing whom to root for.

Hypocrite:

The hypocrite is an antagonist who feigns goodness. He may be guilty of all sorts of treachery and evil, but on the surface he’s all honey and sunshine.

He puts a righteous face on his misdeeds (perhaps even accusing the protagonist of hypocrisy to disguise his own), but the reader knows the truth: this guy is not just bad, he’s a fake. And we hate him all the more for it.

Psycho:

A mainstay of horror stories, this guy is just evil all the way through. He has no excuses, no thread ofgoodness leading him back to redemption. He’s just bad. And crazy on top of it.

Serial killers, genocidal world leaders, and sadists fit the bill to a T. Not only do readers hate psycho bad guys—they’re scared to death of them.

Regular Person Forced to Do Bad Things for an Illegitimate Reason:

Most antagonists—in life as well as fiction—aren’t mustache-twirling, maniacally laughing whackos.

Most of them are just regular Joes who have let their weaknesses get the better of them. Lust, greed, and hatred can drive even ordinary people to do extraordinary evil.

The bad guy is one readers will have no trouble hating.

The Moral Antagonist

In the moral antagonist we find a more complicated—and often more compelling—character, since he presents more parallels than contrasts with the protagonist.

This is a person who is doing the right thing—as he sees it—and usually for the right reasons, but who has nonetheless been forced to do battle with your hero, thanks to the requirements of your story’s overall conflict.

Good Guy on the Opposing Side:

Not all stories are going to offer an epic battle between good and evil. Sometimes the conflict will allow good people with opposing views to appear on both sides of the battle lines.

Lawyers fighting each other for causes in which they each believe passionately, football teams competing for a championship, two love interests trying to win the same girl—none of them have to be inherently bad. Stories of this nature can provide all kinds of interesting possibilities for exploring the gray areas of life, relationships, and morality.

Crusader:

The crusader can be an insanely scary bad guy in his own right. This is someone who fiercely believes he is doing the right thing, and indeed he may well be fighting for a good cause.

He may be someone who believes he has to choose between the lesser of two evils in his decisions. Or he may be someone driven to fanaticism—and thus dangerous decisions—by his passion for his cause. In fact, he may be just plain out right, while the protagonist is the one who’s wrong.

Regular Person Forced to Do Bad Things for a Legitimate Reason:

Sometimes even essentially good people end up doing bad things because they feel they have no choice.

A character who robs a bank to pay for his wife’s operation or to save himself from the Mafia’s threats may be a hero in his own right—or he may be a compelling and relatable antagonist to the detective protagonist who has to go after him.

The possibilities for your antagonist are every bit as vast as they are for your protagonist. The more time you spend creating a character who can properly oppose your hero, the stronger and more compelling your story will be.

Antagonists should be just as well-rounded and believable as your heroes. Don’t settle for anything less than brilliant!

 He may be just plain out right, while the protagonist is the one who’s wrong.

-K.M. Weiland

K.M. Weiland is the author of the historical western A Man Called Outlaw and the medieval epic Behold the Dawn.

She enjoys mentoring other authors through her writing tips, her book Outlining Your Novel: Map Your Way to Success, and her instructional CD Conquering Writer’s Block and Summoning Inspiration.

Photo Credits: Stock XChng, K.M. weiland

THE EMPOWERMENT THEORY

Machiavelli postulated that man’s quest is for power. He said that no-one is more miserable than a disempowered man.

Ironically, he wrote his thesis as a book called THE PRINCE but when he presented it, hoping to impress his Medici rulers, to reap glory (and status), they hated it. And banished Machiavelli back to his disempowered state.

In his head, the scriptwriter has endless power. He/she is more powerful than Superman, and perhaps as omniscient as a god. The seduction of infinite power could be a valid reason alone to write a script.

Say your job is a janitor during the day. Picking up office workers’ discarded used tissues and dropped apple cores. Scrubbing toilet pans and facing mysterious indelible stains on white towels. But at night your characters (a facet of yourself) have the power to fly, rescue the needy and fall in love…all in your script. Your abilities are only limited by your imagination. You are empowered! Until you have to sell the script, in which case you may crash to earth with a giant thud. But that’s another story.

Immortality is another aspect of empowerment. The gods are immortal, but humans are not. But a film can be everlasting. Especially a classic. So the drive to write a wondrous script appears a way to cheat even death. And that’s mighty powerful.

Often you hear would-be scriptwriters say this, “ I’m going to write a script about my life. It’s more interesting than anything you see on the screen these days”

These are people who desire empowerment in their lives. They want the ability to control the uncontrollable aspects that surround them.

I can’t help but think of the tale of Faust. The doctor who gave his soul for empowerment and immortality. Sadly, it didn’t turn out well.

———————————————–

In conclusion, the scriptwriter is a complex and complicated psychological creature. Often psychically damaged but compelled to do his/her best to repair that inner wound.

We can only wish him/her luck, courage, the avoidance of neurosis and psychosis plus, of course, the occasional brilliant script.

Jack Feldstein.

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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In an average life, most people have a very constricted time. Rarely is a person satisfied with as much sex, food, money and fun as he/she desires. Mostly, society (and health issues) enforce humans to lead somewhat disgruntled lives. Because the alternative, if everyone did exactly what their hearts desired and damn the consequences, would be anarchy and chaos. Plus obesity and death.

The thing inside us all, in our unconscious, that wants to be free, regardless of outcome, is what Freud named the id.

And it wants to play.

Seemingly, scriptwriters have discovered a method to let their id run free. In a script, they can allow their characters to indulge in any taboo behaviour. And with impunity to boot!

Freud said that every person in your dreams is you. And so logically, every character in a script is thus a facet of the scriptwriter. And when characters have sex, kill, and generally do whatever they want, it’s the scriptwriter’s id at work.

Often you’ll meet a scriptwriter and he/she will be bespeckled and timid. And then you’ll read their script and be astonished at what the scriptwriter has written.

You’ve probably heard these comments said about certain scripts…

“I couldn’t continue reading it after he ate his cat.”

“The fact your protagonist does that with his mother makes him unlikeable.”

“I had to look up coprophilia in the dictionary”

Unchecked by the Super Ego ( the disciplinarian part of the unconscious) the id can truly run free. And occasionally some scriptwriters fall prey to their unencumbered id ruining their script. A good example of this is Joe Eszterhas, the writer of BASIC INSTINCT. By the time Eszterhas wrote SHOWGIRLS, a famously bad film, his id had truly and uncontrollably run amok.

Jack Feldstein.

Previously:
PART 1 – THE AUTISTIC FANTASY THEORY
PART 2 – THE NARCISSISTIC THEORY
Next: PART 4 – THE EMPOWERMENT THEORY

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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by Jack Feldstein

THE NARCISSISTIC THEORY

It might be said that scriptwriters are those who fall in love with their own thoughts. And the process of recording those thoughts is scriptwriting.

This explains the intense anger often experienced by scriptwriters when their work is rejected or altered. If they love their own ideas then rejection of those ideas leads to a personal sense of feeling unloved.

And very few things make a person more furious than their love being scorned.

The very act of scriptwriting indicates that the person believes their thoughts are unique and worth noting. That belief of “specialness” is a classic narcissistic trait. After all, every human being has many thoughts. But only some believe those thoughts are extraordinary and possess great value as the basis for a film.

The very act of scriptwriting indicates that the person believes their thoughts are unique and worth noting.

When the world conspires to counter a scriptwriter’s belief system ( for instance, when a script is not chosen or changed vastly by a director or not recognized to be as special as the scriptwriter him/herself believes ) then cognitive dissonance in the scriptwriter creates great inner psychic pain.

Cognitive dissonance is defined as when the outside world is at odds with a person’s inner belief system. If that inner belief system is challenged, (“My script is special! Yet they rejected it!”)…then to soothe him/herself the scriptwriter must rationalize why the script was rejected.

Otherwise he/she faces much psychic turmoil and pain with the knowledge that maybe their thoughts aren’t special and loveable after all.

Scriptwriters often utilize phrases like these below to save themselves from great psychic pain and to protect themselves from the need to question the sense of their own “specialness”.

“ Those executives are idiots.”
“ No-one knows how to read a script.”
“Look at the crap they chose instead of mine!”

Often their narcissism leads scriptwriters to feel much Schadenfreude when another film bombs at the box office.

Often their narcissism leads scriptwriters to feel much Schadenfreude when another film bombs at the box office.

This helps scriptwriters maintain their inner narcisstic premise which says, their script, had it been selected, would have made a highly successful film.

-Jack Feldstein

Previously: PART 1 – THE AUTISTIC FANTASY THEORY
Next: PART 3 – THE ID THEORY

Jack Feldstein is an award-winning scriptwriter and neon animation filmmaker.

His rambling seemingly make-it-up-as-you-go-along, stream of consciousness monologue narratives have been likened to Woody Allen and Spalding Gray, but with an Australian twist.

Feldstein woke up one morning and began making neon films.

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 PSYCHOLOGY OF SCRIPTWRITING

Or: why a seemingly sane person sits in a room staring at a blank page.
By Jack Feldstein

Since almost the invention of writing in Sumeria, certain people have been compelled to sit, often alone, in a room (or a hut) and fabricate and record their stories.

Why?

I’m going to examine a few psychological explanations for why an apparently rational person might be compelled to undertake the arduous, and mostly thankless, task of writing a script.

PART 1: THE AUTISTIC FANTASY THEORY

An autistic fantasy is defined as a withdrawal into excessive daydreaming rather than taking proactive action in the world. Here the daydream is another term for the unconscious. Scriptwriting would be the act of recording the daydream (unconscious) in words.

A person, often feeling distressed and anxious in the real world, may retreat into their autistic fantasy inner terrain. This is their escape hatch. Here the person is king of the castle and master of all they survey. Which would certainly not be the case in the outside world if they are at the bottom of the pecking order.

Disappearing into an autistic fantasy is known to provide relief from external stress factors. And rather than face true challenges, the scriptwriter chooses to dream about a happy outcome.

Often we hear scriptwriters describing their autistic fantasy like this.

“ I have to get into the zone.”
“My characters have taken over the script.”
“I can only write after a scotch. Or a magic mushroom.”
( alcohol and drugs are well documented in their ability to alter inner psychic states)

A well-known case of extreme autistic fantasy writing is writer and scriptwriter, Virginia Woolf ( she wrote the play ORLANDO which was used almost unchanged to make the film ORLANDO by Sally Potter). Her stream-of-consciousness writing style can be explained by an autistic fantasy state.
Whether, however, that can be blamed for her eventual suicide remains a point of conjecture.

If we say there are two types of people in this world, the hunters (proactive) and the gatherers (passive). Then the scriptwriter lives the life of the safe passive gatherer but possesses the dangerous inner terrain of an active hunter.

And this is enacted in his/her autistic fantasy…

Which is then translated into a script.

Jack Feldstein.

Next week: The Psychology of Scriptwriting (2) – THE NARCISSISTIC THEORY

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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Aronson, Linda: Scriptwriting Updated, Allen & Unwin
Field, Syd: Screenplay, Dell Publishing
Gulino, Paul: Screenwriting: The Sequence Approach, Continuum
Hauge, Michael: Writing Screenplays That Sell, Harper Resource
Howard, David & Edward Mabley: The Tools of Screenwriting, St.Martin’s Griffin
Jeffrey, Tom: Film Business, Allen & Unwin
McKee, Robert: Story, Harper Collins
Miller, William: Screenwriting, Virgin Publishing
Seger, Linda: Making a Good Script Great, Samuel French Trade
Tierno, Michael: Aristotle’s Poetics for Screenwriters, Hyperion
Truffaut, Francois: Hitchcock, Simon & Schuster, Inc.
Vogler, Christopher: The Writer’s Journey, Michael Wiese Productions
Voytilla, Stuart: Myth and the Movies, Michael Wiese Productions

Screenwriters Bible, David Trottier
Save The Cat!, Blake Snyder
Save The Cat Goes to the Movies, Blake Snyder
Screenwriters Masterclass, Kevin Scott
Scenario, Tudor Gates
Screenplay Story Analysis, Asher Garfinkel
How To Adapt Anything Into A Screenplay, Richard Krevolin
Psychology For Screenwriters, William Indick
Screenwriting, Richard Walter
The Scriptselling Game, Kathie Fong Yoneda
Scriptwriting For The Screen, Charlie Moritz
Screenwriters Guide to Agents and Managers, John Scott Lewinski
Screenwriting Is Storytelling, Kate Wright
Perfect Screenplay, Katherine Atwell Herbert
Screenwriting For Dummies, Laura Schellhardt
Idiot’s Guide to Screenwriting, Skip Press
Adaptations, Denise Faithfull
Writing The Second Act, Michael Halperin
Writing The Short Film, Pat Cooper & Ken Dancyger
Writing The Killer Treatment, Michael Halperin
Top Shelf 1,Greg Haddrick
Writing Television Comedy, Jerry Rannow
Write To TV, Martie Cook
Writing The TV Drama Series, Pamela Douglas
Raindance Writers Lab, Elliot Grove
Story Audio CD, Robert McKee
Anatomy Of Story, John Truby

A more extensive list for those interested in myth and Hero’s Journey:

The Hero

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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“Film is made in the editing room. In the writing and in the director’s preparation you’re planning what you’re gonna do in the editing room.”

He then refers to the Russian theory of montage from the 1920’s, which was followed by the Brits in the next decade (and used later to great commercial success by Alfred Hitchcock a.o.).

Anybody with a real interest in the effect of montage, should really do some reading on Lev Kuleshov and what is still known as the Kuleshov Effect. Using this, one could build a case that, if story is structure (which is what Stephen Gaghan doesn’t like), therefore transitions are structure.

Isn’t it remarkable that seventy years apart, two Russians were telling the world about transitions in their respective art forms?

Gaghan writes like a director. Similarly, Michael Mann is already thinking of what he will do in the editing room and therefore writes his story from scene transitions rather than starting from the overall dramatic arc.

(originally published 06/05/2006, edited 31/10/2007)

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.

Subscribe to our YouTube Channel!

Jim Mercurio makes the following point about Gaghan’s comments in the notorious CS podcast: “Gaghan’s comments are showing that he is evolving from a screenwriter into a filmmaker. “

With ‘filmmaker’, he undoubtedly means ‘director’ and with his quote he hits the nail on the head. However, Mercurio makes it sound as if this is a natural evolution, when he goes on to explain how his own latest script too is told with transitions. All of a sudden Gaghan is fashionable, and screenwriters are re-inventing Tolstoy. Now let’s not forget the following facts:

1. Tolstoy was a novelist
2. Gaghan is NOT a meanstream screenwriter
3. Transitions do not stand in the way of proper story structuring

What everybody seems to be missing in this discussion is that transitions play on a shot level, or at best on a scene level. Story structure goes way beyond that. Whatever Mercurio may think, a screenplay written solely from transitions will most likely end up in the same tiny niche market as KOYAANISQATSI.

DVD: THE MANN SPEAKS

The same day I stumbled on the discussion above, I heard writer/director Michael Mann’s commentary on the Restored Director’s Cut of MANHUNTER.

Mann’s comments focus mainly on the parallel psychology of the serial murderer and the cop, besides a few killer anecdotes about production nightmares. My favourite: the airplane scene with the little girl freaking out over Will Graham’s bloody crime scene photos. The only way to shoot this was to book the entire film crew on a United Airlines flight from Chicago to Orlando without informing the airline of their plans, keeping all equipment as hand luggage. Mid flight suddenly these hundred or so people got out of their seats and started filming. No need to say that Mann could kiss his United air miles goodbye.

But let’s skip to the last few minutes of the commentary in which Michael Mann summarises his approach to filmmaking. “Film is made in the editing room. In the writing and in the director’s preparation you’re planning what you’re gonna do in the editing room.” He then refers to the Russian theory of montage from the 1920’s, which was followed by the Brits in the next decade (and used later to great commercial success by Alfred Hitchcock a.o.).

I don’t want to get too theoretical here, but anybody with a real interest in the effect of montage, should really do some reading on Lev Kuleshov and what is still known as the Kuleshov Effect. Using this, I could easily build a case to prove that transitions are structure. I’ll spare you that one for now. But isn’t it remarkable that seventy years apart, two Russians were telling the world about transitions in their respective art forms?

To conclude: Mercurio is right when he says that Gaghan writes like a filmmaker. Like Michael Mann, he is already thinking of what he will do in the editing room and therefore writes his story from scene transitions rather than starting from an overall dramatic arc. This approach to script writing is indeed in many ways similar to that of Hitchcock or Mann but I am sure those last two went through far less drafts than Gaghan.

BTW: Don’t rush out to get Manhunter from HMV or Amazon.com: unfortunately Mann’s commentary only features on a rare DVD which has been out of print for a while, which limits your options largely to eBay. But as a bonus from OZZYWOOD, you can download the last four minutes of Michael Mann’s director’s commentary here.

LOOSE ENDS: The First Act Monolith

Recently I watched BRUBAKER, not knowing anything about this 1980 drama directed by Stuart Rosenberg. If you haven’t seen the film but are planning to do so in the near future, don’t read on as I will spoil the pleasure (and surprise).

The film strays from the traditional structure mainly because of its offbeat First Act. For the life of me, I could not detect an Inciting Incident, nor any significant protagonist characterisation. Instead we witness from Robert Redford’s detainee character’s POV how the most appalling injustice and brutality is inflicted relentlessly upon the inmates.

Over thirty minutes into the movie, Redford’s character identifies himself as the new warden and announces in the same scene that he wants to force through some serious reform. Finally we have our 1st Act Turning Point. I am still trying to understand why the warden’s identity was kept hidden from the audience all along. Apart from a sudden surprise, it doesn’t add a thing. The use of dramatic irony (i.e.: the audience knows, but the other characters don’t) would have been much more powerful and it would have allowed for the badly needed character development.

Leading US critic Roger Ebert wrote about this film: “There’s no room for the spontaneity of real human personalities caught in real situations. That’s especially annoying with the character of Brubaker himself, played well but within a frustratingly narrow range by Robert Redford. “

Redford’s performance is rock solid given the material. BRUBAKER’s real problem is its flawed structure: half an hour into the movie, we have run out of screentime to sufficiently set up the protagonist’s character and potential internal conflicts. Redford didn’t have anything to work with, which makes Ebert’s comment rather unfair.

What the screenwriters did achieve quite well though, is the setup of antagonists and external obstacles in the way of the protagonist’s objective. Perhaps this explains why the film did work for me.

It still beats me though why BRUBAKER was nominated for Best Screenplay back in 1980. Perhaps it was a fluke. In my view, this theory gains strength when we look at co-writer W.D. Richter’s latest work: STEALTH…

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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