The Surprise Payoff

-or-

Will the Circle of Being Be Unbroken?

A while back I saw 3:10 to Yuma. I tell you, if I'd participated in the making of this film, I would be very upset that it was nominated for a mere two Oscars (original score and sound mixing). You kidding me? This is easily one of the best films of 2007.

And here's the part that knocked my socks off: the protagonist, Dan (Christian Bale), offers up a third-act payoff to his back story that changes how the entire climax plays out... and yet it's a payoff we never saw coming. Never knew we needed until it was right there in front of us.

Got your 3-D Spoiler Glasses on?

Several times as Dan is trying to get Ben Wade (Russell Crowe) onto that 3:10 train to prison, we hear about Dan's wartime injury. There's clearly a sense of shame for Dan regarding the loss of his leg, but the cause for the shame seems self-evident: he was injured in the war and now feels like less of a man. Less able to care for his family now that he's home. We don't question Dan's back story or his shame at all -- it's simply what makes him so determined now to succeed.

It's not until Ben has Dan in a stranglehold that Dan volunteers the truth: in fact, his wartime injury is the result of fellow soldiers shooting at him as he tried to desert.

Talk about shame! Now it all becomes clear: Dan's determination is completely about redeeming himself, particularly in front of his son. It's not something he's choosing to do; it's something he must do.

Ben, upon hearing the story, allows himself to be shepherded to the train. Of course, it's a classic Western, so not everyone makes it to their happy ending... but Dan's story comes full circle as he's able to prove himself worthy in the eyes of his son.

A payoff we didn't even know we needed until it was right there upon us. Wow.

Hold the MacGuffin

Spoily Spoilerson, here. Don't read this yet if you haven't seen Vantage Point, but plan to!

Vantage Point is structured around an attack on an international summit to fight terrorism; the President of the USA is shot by sniper fire, and the whole location bombed. We see this attack scene over and over, from various characters' points of view -- the idea being that all the perspectives are required to fully understand what happened, and who did what. It's all kind of frenetic, and even fun...

...except that you never learn why the terrorists attack. You don't learn what they want, or what they stand for. It's as if the terrorists' message is "You want to fight terrorism? We'll show you terrorism!" Okayyy. This is the hill you're going to die on? The right to commit terrorist attacks sometime in the future?

There's even an American (a supposed good guy) who turns out to be on the inside, working with the terrorists. (And by the by, if you don't see the reveal of this guy's true colours coming a mile away, you must be new to movies.) At one point, this traitor says "This war will never end." Well, pardon me, but -- What war? Would you mind being a bit more specific?

Isn't terrorism a tactic, rather than a cause in and of itself?

Sorry, but terrorism is a terrible MacGuffin. A briefcase full of something gold and shiny -- that's a MacGuffin. You want to risk your life blowing stuff up and kidnapping and murdering politicians, I expect you to have some kind of reason.

Imagine the alternative: a movie in which terrorists take the opportunity of an anti-terrorism summit to cause mayhem in order to make their desires known. Pretty good, no?

If you write weak-ass motivations like this, then the terrorists have truly won. (I know: you saw that coming a mile away.)

Since You Asked

We all know how tough it is to bring a character's back story to light. The character may have a history... but how do you reveal that history without it sounding like pointless exposition? "Hey, remember how when you were a kid you were abused, and that's informed every decision you've made since?" "I know. Crazy."

Convention says that bringing up back story works best when a) the audience is dying to have the gaps filled in, e.g. Rick and Ilsa's history in Paris; or b) the characters are playing out conflict now based on what happened then, e.g. the slapfest that is "She's my sister... she's my daughter... she's my sister AND my daughter!"

Another take, that I haven't seen articulated before (and that could easily go into the Lessons from the Incredibly Obvious File): bring up a character's back story because someone else asks. In Michael Clayton (no real spoilers, here) we learn the facts of George Clooney's education and employment because Tilda Swinton really, really wants to know. A lackey does some research and shares his discoveries.

Now, just a warning-- in Clayton, as we're hearing the unadorned facts about this character's history, we're also seeing him in action, doing something that has nothing to do with what we're hearing. Otherwise, hello-- the story would stop dead for a minute or two. Still, I think this is such a tidy lesson: want to share some facts about your character? Have someone in your story ask.

Coming Full Circle

-Or-

Dammit, Syd Field Was Right

In which we sort of continue the biopic discussion from the last post & comments.

I've been endlessly incorporating notes into my wedding comedy, in which the protagonist does some not-very-nice things. She has motivation to do 'em. Frankly, I'd piled on the motivation. But something was missing. Something fundamental about her character was going unexplained. It was on maybe draft 9 that I took to heart the question: "What made her this way?"

I had to go back. Way back. I figured out her "circle of being"-- the movie-language moment in time that effectively makes a person who they are in the present, and that will be directly addressed by the climax of the movie and how the character changes. Think of it as an origin myth for non-superheroes. I'm not done rewriting, but finding that moment for this character went a looooong way.

So I've been thinking about these circles. Here are a couple of examples of The Good and The Bad.

Circle of Being - The Good. One word: Rosebud.

Okay, that's too easy.

How about this: The love affair with Ilsa in Paris.

Whoops-- damn, too obvious too. But it works, huh? What makes Rick so darn cranky and reluctant to get emotionally involved? Hello! Maybe standing on that train platform with nothing but a broken heart?

Anyway. To the real example. I hope my memory isn't too sketchy here, but I'm thinking of Gattaca. Gattaca follows a lower-caste drone type guy who aspires to be an astronaut. His genes prevent him reaching this dream-- in this world, based on his genetic makeup, he's considered unfit. Unhealthy. But once, as a teenager, this kid beat his genetically-superior brother in a swimming race. That moment provides all the support our hero needs to pursue his dream, which he knows is possible. The movie also happens to elegantly thread flashbacks to this origin story through the present action. We get to see the beginning and completion of the circle at more or less the same time. It's pretty powerful.

Circle of Being - The Bad: Just to pick on The Aviator yet again... I think we're meant to believe that Howard Hughes's neuroses (yes, including the jars of urine!) stem from a moment in his childhood in which his mother washes him down-- creepily-- during a quarantine.

I'm sorry, but this is a terrible circle of being. Is the movie suggesting this one moment made Hughes? The big dreams as well as the mental illness? This is where circles of being break down and become fodder for mockery. It's ludricous. It feels like an "insert trauma here" moment. It's where movie language loses its power.

So, yeah. If you're going to come full circle, do it good and not bad.