That Pesky Third Act

Let’ say for the sake of argument that a screenplay has four acts, not three as all those screenwriting books claim.  Why then is Act Three so hard to write?  For that matter, why is Act Three so hard to watch?

When I watch a film on DVD, I often find myself hitting the pause button around the hour mark…right when Act III begins.  I think there are a couple reasons for this.  One is that the fun and games of Act II are winding down.  Playtime is over.  Another is that Act III is typically where things get worse for the hero, and that’s no fun.  Typical screenplay structure demands things get worse (the stakes raised)  to lead us to the Death Moment in which the hero seems to have lost everything.

The reason for the Death Moment is that we need to knock the hero down in order to have the satisfying resurrection at the film’s climax.  This is all pretty basic stuff.  Resurrections are satisfying, but they require the hero to be knocked down a peg or two…or ten.  The difficulty I have with Act III peg-knocking is that it’s often done in a convenient, pro-forma manner.  Far too often the hero makes a flawed, illogical decision that leads to his downfall.  The writer may also resort to some orchestrated convenience to put the hero in the dog house.  I’ve watched a lot of movies and find such machinations tedious, and I can’t help but wonder if the larger audience feels the same way.

Of course, audiences are very forgiving.  They don’t scrutinize plotting the way a writer does.  If there is some surface-level entertainment value (laughs, action, romance), the audience will typically forgive convenient plotting, if they notice it at all.  Consider the “Wizard of Oz,” and it’s third act side-trip to obtain the witch’s broom.  Have you ever considered why the Great and Powerful Oz wants the broom?  Does it serve some larger purpose?  Did he just want to get rid of this pesky girl and her side-kicks?   Why send her on this errand and imperil their lives?  No answer is given and we are swept up in the story and go along for the adventurous ride, but if you stop and think about it, that Oz is a real asshole.

On the most basic level a story has to last a certain length of time.  In the case of a feature film it’s 90-120 minutes.  If the makers of “Oz” were running short on time, they could have sent Dorothy and company on a couple more side trips.  Maybe Oz wants Glenda’s tiara, or the heads of twelve flying monkeys.  Any number of tangential adventures could have been set up…all connected to Dorothy’s larger goal of getting home.   In some respect, Act III can be expanded or contracted like an accordion, based on the length of the other acts.  Novels and other long-form stories can have an almost endless string of tangential adventures in Act III.

In the ballet world, the third act often has nothing to do with the rest of the story.  It’s called a Divertissement which I’m assuming means “diversion” in French.  Here the lead characters may stop and watch a ballet-within-a-ballet as dancers entertain them.  It’s as though ballet-makers threw up their hands and said “Listen, I really don’t have any plot here, so we’ll just suck up some time with some eye-candy.”   So out come the jugglers and acrobats and peasant dancers.

Some films seem equally off-handed about the Third Act.  A director may orchestrate a big car chase or stunt that serves no real plot purpose.   These can be entertaining in the moment, but are quickly forgettable as they really don’t impact the main plot.  If you can excise the scene and still tell the story, then it’s probably just padding.  I would like to find some sort of formula that helps me design third acts that are as integral to the overall story as the first or second acts.  Wish me luck.

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Plotting Hell

I’m trying to break a story….or re-break a story that has been sitting in a drawer for years…and it’s not a pretty process.

I find breaking the story the hardest part of writing.  I come up with fun concepts every day.  And I’m pretty good with character and dialogue.  It’s the pesky in-between stages that trouble me, where the story is broken out into big broad strokes and then detailed in specific scenes and beats.

The reason I’m bad at this is that I’m a perfectionist.  Too many films have clunky plotting that would never pass muster with me.  I watched “Megamind” the other night and thought it’s plotting was lacking in peril and seemed to bounce around all over the place.  If you haven’t seen that film, a super villain defeats a super hero and then finds his life lacking in purpose.  There’s nothing worse in a movie that a character without purpose.  The plot involves him creating a new hero to fight with, that hero turning evil, and the original villain now having to save the city and be a good guy.  Maybe this sounded great on paper, but in practice it’s a ho-hum, who-cares plot.

I’m also a stickler about logic.  Stories should be rooted in reality and anything illogical bugs the crap out of me.  Remember “The Office” episode in which Pam and Jim get married and they have a big dinner the night before the wedding?  I’m sure there were reasons the writers created this big dinner, but it bothered me.  No one has a big dinner before the wedding…you have the big dinner after the wedding.  The pre-wedding dinner, typically held after the rehearsal, is for immediate family.  Yeah, I’m the guy who always says, “The character would never do that,”  or “That never happens in real life.”

So plotting is hard for me.  It all has to work, or none of it works.

Step 1: It all starts with the CONCEPT.  That’s pretty easy.   We all think up great, “Wouldn’t it be cool if…” ideas.

Step 2: is typically marrying this concept to a character and setting.  Sometimes that is built in, sometimes not.  If you do this correctly, then dramatic sparks start flying.  You know if you have a concept about cowboys fighting aliens that you’re going to have some gun-fights and laser-battles.  Movie concepts typically involve an unusual situation.   Your first act introduces the hero, his/her world, and gets him/her into the SITUATION.  Once in the SITUATION, those dramatic sparks fly for 20-30 minutes.  This is the fun stuff, the trailer material, and the audience is amped for the ride.  But it only gets you to page 45 or so.

Step 3: is the hard part of plotting, for the audience now wants something shiny and new.  They want complications. The structural rules are fuzzier here.  Most screenwriting books are based on a three-act structure, with an hour-long second act.  I find it helpful to break Act II in half and pivot the story at the mid point.  I’ve never timed it out, but I bet Dorothy reaches the Emerald City at the mid-point of “Oz” and is sent off to capture the witches broom in the latter half of Act II.  The story pivots as her goal changes.  Maybe we should just say stories have four acts, or break Act II into IIA and IIB.

Poorly plotted stories pad out Act II with such complications such as “A traitor in our midst!” and “The villain kidnapped the ingénue!”  Look up my earlier blog on kidnapping and come up with your own list of films that resort to this plot-padding cliché.  Padding things out with cliché complications is lazy plotting.

Sometimes I wish I didn’t have such high standards as I’d be a much more productive writer if I could just lower my plot-breaking bar.

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Whither America?

I watched the final launch of the Space Shuttle program last Friday, not on TV, but right here on my computer via NASA’s great streaming HD video.   It’s worth pointing out that back when the first shuttle launched, there was no internet as we know it, there weren’t even personal computers of any significance, and certainly not any that streamed HD video.  How times change.

As a writer, I look for symbolism in everything and it’s not hard to view this launch as something more than just the end of the Shuttle program.  The amazing sight of that huge ship roaring into space on a billowing pillar of smoke coincided with news that our economy added a mere 18,000 jobs last month and the official unemployment rate went up to 9.2%.  There is real concern that just as NASA is cutting back, America as a whole may have seen it’s best days retreating in the rear view mirror.

As we enter a presidential-election, there is much discussion on how to restore America’s greatness.  Do we unleash the power of the private sector with tax cuts and deregulation?  Or do we invest public funds in education and technology to refill our economic gas tank?  Both seek to reclaim an economic power that some claim is the birthright of an “exceptional” America.  This is a gross mis-reading of recent history.

It’s true that America has been exceptionally strong for much of the last 60 years, but the reason is the rest of the world was destroyed by WWII.  While Europe and Asia were picking up rubble, America was inventing and making things.  An entire generation of veterans, educated on the G.I. Bill, took advantage of America’s unique position as the only manufacturing power on the planet.  Businesses grew and quality of life rose to unheard of heights.  As shows like “Mad Men” depict, it was a great time for white American men.  (The shuttle program, and NASA as a whole, can be seen as a lingering relic of this White-American pinnacle of achievement.)

This prosperity lasted well into the 1970’s, when the first hints of foreign competition arrived in the form of tiny radios and cheap cars from Japan.  It’s been downhill for America ever since.  We just didn’t notice, or didn’t want to notice.  The recession of the 80’s was disguised by the rise of Wall Street and the financial sector.  This bubble burst in the crash of ’87, but another – the tech bubble – quickly took it’s place.  The 90’s looked like boom times, but the middle class was still shrinking, wages were stagnant.

The tech boom also burst, only to be replaced by a housing boom.   This bubble also burst and I don’t see another on the horizon to take it’s place.  Finally, there is no getting around the fact that America’s post WWII hey-dey is over.  This is hard for us to accept.  We’ve only known prosperity, and an economic trajectory that matches the Shuttle’s vertical arc.  The decades-long econimic expansion brought about by the destruction of WWII, however, has ended and there ain’t no going back

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