© Copyright 1991, 1999 Blake Harris. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Chapter Five
Creating Great Plots
Developing a plot means far more than merely
adding plot factors to the original theme.
Good plotting is a skill that is developed
through practice. A very experienced screenwriter
develops his plots almost unconsciously. He is not
necessarily gifted above others, but he has developed
so many other plots, with a variety of combinations,
that he will know instinctively the lines along which
to develop any given type of story.
At the same time, he will not accept the
first development that comes to him unless, after
experimentation with other possibilities, he is
convinced that this is best.
A screenwriter, then, has to train himself to
be an excellent "plotter." This can be practiced as
interesting little mental exercises. No plotting
practice will be wasted.
In exercises to develop plots, a student
should start with simple themes first--those that could
almost be plotted in one's head.
But at the same time, don't expect the
plotting of a good major motion picture to take only a
few hours--not one that you are going to ask a studio,
a producer, or investors to spend millions of dollars
to make.
Aristotle defined plot as, "The arrangement
of incidents." But in a modern context, the plot might
better be thought of as the plan of your script.
Plot is the scheme, plan or action of the
story.
Talking dramatically, a plot shows, by means
of visible action, a soul in his or her hour of crisis,
what brought about the crisis, what constitutes the
problem, and how it is solved.
When it comes to plotting, a screenwriter is
like a watchmaker. In a watch--at least the old
fashioned wind-up kind--every part was necessary to the
whole. No tiny piece of its mechanism could be left
out and nothing could be added.
The same is true of a well-built plot. The
writer works to adjust the different parts of his plot
mechanism. He throws aside anything which would be
detrimental to the whole. He searches and plays around
with various pieces until they fit together perfectly.
And behind all the different pieces, big and small, is
the theme--the screenplay's purpose, its incentive--
which is like the mainspring of the watch. It drives
all of the plot's action.
The elimination of the inconsequential, that
which does not fit into the pattern and that which does
not contribute to making the whole work is the rule of
dramatic technique.
Development of the plot may be divided into
two classes: the expansion of the main theme and the
invention of sub-plots or complications.
However, a sub-plot must always contribute in
a very real way and enhance the main theme. Otherwise
you are writing two different scripts with two
different stories that just happen to involve some of
the same characters.
Building Blocks Of Plot
The building blocks of plot are incident,
situation, crises, climax and ending. Understanding
the difference between incident, situation and crisis
will help you to construct plots more easily. And your
plots will tend to be more effective.
An incident is a happening of minor
importance--a subordinate action or event. Life is a
succession of incidents. So is drama. But right here
we have one key difference between life and the art of
the screenplay. Life and its incidents are frequently
haphazard, accidental, scattered and lacking in
significance.
In building a screenplay we must assemble a
succession of incidents, each of which has a
significant meaning and a direct or indirect bearing on
the whole structure.
For dramatic purposes an incident is a
happening of minor importance that usually leads up to
or points to something of greater importance.
A dramatic situation on the other hand is a
serious predicament confronting a character. It is a
point in a story where the conflicting elements have
come into collision and a character faces an obstacle
to be overcome, a difficult choice to be made, or a
change that must be suffered. It may involve a
conflict between two or more characters, a conflict
with the elements, or a great inner soul struggle.
To become effective a situation must be given
expression by outward action.
To illustrate, let us look at the first 10
minutes of Working Girl--a very well constructed film
which owes much of its impact to this fact. The basic
conflict of the film is between Tess, a secretary who
is trying to become a trader or executive, and her
bosses who won't give her a promotion despite her
ability.
The film opens with a magnificent helicopter
shot of the ferry crossing New York harbor. On the
ferry we move in on Tess and her girlfriend. The
girlfriend holds a cupcake with three candles on it and
sings "Happy Birthday." When asked if she made a wish,
Tess says yes in a way that tells us she is longing for
something. We cut to the two women walking amongst the
crowd heading to work.
Tess is then seen coming into the large
trading office where she works. She answers the phone
at her desk. It is a client who is nervous about some
stock. Tess knows it is alright--she was the one who
told her boss to sell the stock short--but she runs to
get her boss because the client "doesn't want to hear
it from a secretary." Her boss is in the bathroom and
Tess goes in and hands him some toilet paper.
We then cut to closing time. The stock has
gone down--Tess called it right, though her bosses
really don't seem to understand why it went down.
Immediately upon this, one of her bosses tells her she
has been turned down for the entry program again. But
he says she might have a chance in the arbitrage
department. He has set her up for drinks with Bob who
works in arbitrage.
We cut to Tess on the ferry that night. It's
late and she sits alone on the deserted deck. She is
depressed. She arrives home to a surprise birthday
party (she has just turned 30) with a gang of friends.
We cut to Tess dressing in sexy underwear her boyfriend
has given her for her birthday while he waits in bed
for her. Tess complains that just once she would like
a present she could wear outside the apartment.
All these above are incidents. At no point
during this first 10 minutes have the conflicting
elements come into collision.
These incidents have established many things
about Tess--the sort of person she is, her relationship
with her boyfriend, her job, her ambitions and the
predicament she is in. They lead up to the first
situation: Tess in a limousine with Bob who is
snorting cocaine. She is getting increasingly wary
that this might be another set up. Bob starts coming
onto her in a very crude way and puts on a porno tape
"by mistake." She finds out that there isn't really a
job in arbitrage, drenches Bob in champaign and gets
out of the limousine on a freeway despite the rain
outside. Here we have Tess and the executive world
coming into collision.
Then the situation moves to the crisis. Tess
storms in to work late and types a message on her
computer that her boss is a pimp. This flashes onto
the stock quotes screen before the whole office which
breaks out in laughter. Tess marches out. Her boss
grabs her computer keyboard trying to cancel the
message.
We next see Tess being reassigned for the 3rd
time within the company. She is given her last chance.
If her new boss complains about her, she's out.
We see from the above that aside from helping
to build a situation, an incident may be used to reveal
character. An incident can be used to show a
character's state of mind or an emotion.
In building drama, the screenwriter must
choose incidents directly necessary to the carrying out
of his purpose.
Every incident in a screenplay must have
value in the development of the whole.
In addition to the uses which have been
mentioned, incidents can be used to introduce bits of
comedy or humor. Incidents may also serve to reflect
the setting, locale, or "local color" of a scene or a
sequence of scenes.
A novice screenwriter is advised to spend
much time in his study of incidents--observing them in
real life, and perhaps making notes of interesting ones
which are particularly revealing of character or a
setting.
Dramatic Situations
A situation has a special meaning in the
context of dramatic construction.
A dramatic situation is a point in the
screenplay where the conflicting elements have come
into collision and a character faces an obstacle to
overcome, a difficult choice to be made or a change
that must be suffered.
It may involve a conflict between two or more
characters, a conflict with the elements or a great
inner soul struggle. To become effective a situation
must be given expression by outward action and the
issue at stake must be vital and significant.
The situation begins the moment the
predicament is revealed. It rises to a crisis (the
moment of greatest dramatic height) and ends when some
act gives either temporary or permanent relief.
The element of situation in a screenplay must
be the logical, natural and seemingly inevitable result
of the conflict. The conflict stems from the motives
or beliefs of the protagonist and antagonist.
For this reason, it is necessary to give
careful thought to characterization while building
situations from a succession of incidents.
Crisis, Sequence And Climax
A crisis is that point or portion of the
situation in which the conflicting interests or desires
meet and demand immediate change or adjustment. A
crisis is the highest point of suspense in a situation.
If there is only conflict and struggle with
no necessity for an immediate decision, the state of
affairs has not reached a crisis.
One situation and its crisis will not make
much of a feature screenplay. One might get by with
three situations and their crises. But that is still
pretty sparse for a film that is going to last 2 hours.
The fashion in recent years of using the
three act structure as the model for plot construction
has led many novice screenwriters to think of including
only three major "plot points" or turning points where
the plot shifts--one at the end of each act. But each
crisis is actually a turning point of sorts.
There must be a sequence of situations, each
situation building to a high point or crisis and each
succeeding situation growing naturally and logically
out of the preceding one.
Finally the sequence of situations must
culminate in a climax. The characters pass through one
situation after another and there is temporary relief
after each crisis, but there is no final decisive
solution until the climax is reached.
To make this clearer, let us assume that
someone starts out to get something he wants. He
encounters one obstacle after another. Each obstacle
seems more insurmountable than the preceding one but
gradually the character succeeds in overcoming each
obstacle one by one. He finally arrives at the goal
that he has set out to reach. Each of these obstacles
represents a dramatic situation. The apex of each
obstacle represents its crisis. The final goal
represents the climax.
This very simplified outline merely serves to
show how we must progress from one situation to another
until we arrive at the climax, which ends the suspense
and satisfies the curiosity of the audience as to which
contender or which faction will win.
In creating drama there must be much more
than the mere competition between two individuals for a
given point or toward an eventual goal. Other
characters must be introduced and there must be plot
and counter-plot (which will be discussed later.)
Climax
The sequence of situations must lead to an
eventual and final crisis, followed by the climax of
the whole story.
The final crisis is the last point of doubt--
the climax is the point at which he succeeds in winning
her (or whatever) and where all doubt is removed. But
to hold the attention of the audience, there must be a
sequence of obstacles--situations--before he arrives at
the climax. Each situation grows through conflict into
a crisis.
The word climax refers only to the point of
solution of the final and supreme crisis of the entire
screenplay. Here all doubt is removed and all
questions are answered. Each situation growing into a
crisis leaves doubt in the minds of the audience as to
the final outcome. This is satisfied and explained in
the climax which follows immediately after the final
crisis.
Endings
When we have passed the climax, we descend
into a satisfactory ending where any loose ends are
rapidly tied up and where the audience is satisfied
that the story has ended.
This is always best
if it is brief.
Structure
William Goldman says "the single most
important lesson to be learned about writing for films"
is:
SCREENPLAYS ARE STRUCTURE.
Every screenplay has a beginning, a middle
and an end. Confusion with this and the 3 Act
Structure has resulted in a lot of terrible screenplays
which seem to take forever to get started.
In one of the first comprehensive textbooks
on screenwriting, Epes Winthrop Sargent said: "The
statement of the question is the start of the play, the
solving of the problem the middle action and the reply
the climax or end."
He showed a plot outline broken into
Beginning, Middle and End:
BEGINNING
George wishes to marry Agnes. (Object)
John is his rival. (Obstacle.)
MIDDLE
The father favors John. (Struggle and suspense.)
Struggle because the father's favor improves John's
chances, and suspense because we fear that the odds
against George's success have become too great.
George and Agnes quarrel. (Struggle.) George now has
to overcome this additional handicap and so fight
harder.
Agnes turns to John. (Suspense.) Will Agnes marry
John or forgive George and restore him to favor?
George loses his fortune. (Suspense.) How will this
affect his chances of winning forgiveness from Agnes?
John inherits money. (Struggle.) This adds additional
difficulties that John must overcome.
Pitying George, Agnes forgives him. (Struggle.) Since
an obstacle has been overcome.
The father's opposition to George grows stronger.
(Struggle.) This obstacle has been more pronounced.
George and Agnes elope. (Struggle.) They will
overcome the obstacle of opposition by outwitting the
father.
The father and John give pursuit. Suspense
predominates here, as the viewer fears that the elopers
will be overtaken and the union prevented.
END
George and Agnes are married. (Climax.) The object is
obtained.
The father forgives them. Falling action and the end
of the play.
Notice that the beginning and end are
relatively short.
In more recent times, the three act structure
of the theater stage play has been transported over to
feature film as a workable theory of proper structure.
But in the translation--and in an effort to get some
kind of formula that fit every successful feature film-
-the three act structure in some texts was watered down
to describe Beginning, Middle and End. But as Act I
and Act III were supposed to be about 30 minutes each,
this led novice screenwriters to have long beginnings
with a lot of establishment before the story really got
rolling.
"The three-act structure is the form that I
grew up in the theater with," said screenwriter Paddy
Chayefsky. "You present a situation in Act I, and by
the end of Act I the situation has evolved to a point
where something is threatening the situation. In Act
II you solve that problem, producing a more intense
problem by the end of Act II. In Act III you solve
that problem, either happily or unhappily, depending on
whether you have a comedy or a tragedy or a drama. You
work out the final solution accordingly. It sounds
nice and pat, but it never really works out that way.
Nothing ever works that easily."
In other words, structure is not a formula
thing. Every effort to make it a precise formula moves
one toward writing formula movies. Formulas can work,
up to a point, but one is also charged with the task of
structuring one's story in the way that will work best.
If a film grabs the audience's attention
almost immediately, if it builds, if there are several
crises that increase the suspense and our concern about
what is going to happen to the protagonist, if the
final crisis and the climax are more tense or intense
and more riveting than the previous events leading up
to them--well that screenplay is well structured.
If it is 3 acts or 5, it will still work.
The framework of structure is beginning,
middle and end.
The building blocks of structure or plot are
incidents, situations, crises, climax, and resolution.
Beginnings
You should begin your script at the point
which will arouse interest and induce some degree of
suspense. Lajos Egri talks about beginnings in terms
of "point of attack."
In writing about live theater, he says, a
play might start exactly at the point where a conflict
might lead up to a crisis. Or it might begin at the
point where at least one character has reached a
turning point in his life. It might start with a
decision which will precipitate conflict, or where
something vital is at stake.
This advice can equally be applied to film.
You want to introducing the basic conflict or struggle
of the script, or at least foreshadow it.
Rarely does a film start at the real
beginning of the story. Usually many things have
already happened earlier which have led up to the point
where the film opens. Things that have happened that
lead up to the point the film starts are sometimes
referred to as the backstory.
The beginning of your film may be quiet, or
it may be tense. That depends upon the nature of your
theme and the plot and the frame of mind you want your
audience in at the start. It depends too, upon the
sort of contrast you wish to make.
Plot development, like character development,
must have contrasts.
In the beginning then, some of your main
characters are introduced, their relationship to each
other are established, and the conflict must be joined
in some fashion.
This must be accomplished through incidents
which lead up to the first dramatic situation. Do not
bring in any unnecessary details--only the things the
audience needs to know immediately.
"The elimination of the inconsequential" is a
rule of dramatic technique and screenwriting. It is
especially true of the beginning.
The Ending
When we have passed the climax, we descend
into a the ending.
The ending must satisfy the audience that the
story has ended. To do this, it must wrap up any loose
strings.
William Goldman put it very succinctly:
"Endings, frankly, are a bitch. A proper ending for a
film is one in which an expectation is fulfilled for
the audience. But once they get a sense of it coming,
often they are ahead of you. You don't have to rush.
But you must never waste even a single shot--because I
think the ending requires the most delicate and
thoughtful writing of any part of a movie."
You can't leave things up in the air. You
can't leave an audience wondering what happened next.
If they are doing that, the story isn't finished in
their minds and this will bother most people.
The Dramatic Triad
One of the laws of classical drama was the
"Dramatic Triad."
This said that there must be three elements
in one or another combination.
A screenplay with only two characters could
not be dramatic unless there were some external
influence, emotion or object of attainment which
precipitates the struggle between the two.
Where one man seeks to win one woman, even if
there is no other lover or rival on the scene, the
feeling which prompts her to resist or which prevents
the fulfillment of their love forms the third side of
this triangle.
The Dramatic Triad is essential to the drama
of a screenplay, for with only two elements in a
struggle, and with both sides roughly matched, there
would only be a deadlock. It is the fluctuating third
element which creates the surprise and vitality which
maintains suspense.
Even in a screenplay like Lawrence Kasdan's
The Big Chill where there are far more than three main
characters, there really were three main elements from
which the drama sprung. There were the memories of the
group as it existed in the past, there was the death of
one of the members, and there was the present day
group, which actually had ceased to be a group.
Clarifying Suspense
There seems to be a certain amount of
confusion about what suspense is, even amongst those
who have studied numerous texts on screenwriting.
In the dictionary, suspense has several
meanings: Suspense: 1) The condition of being
suspended. 2) The state or quality of being undecided,
uncertain or doubtful. 3) Anxiety or apprehension
resulting from an uncertain, undecided, or mysterious
situation.
When people talk about suspense in film these
days, they generally are talking about the third
definition--the nail-biting, sit-on-the-edge-of-your-
seat brand of suspense. A film is said to be
suspenseful if it makes the audience highly anxious
about the outcome.
In actual fact, however, while appropriate
and very desirable in many films, it is the second
definition that is meant when it is said that every
story must have suspense.
We've said that without suspense, you don't
have a story. That means that if the outcome of the
struggle in your film is not clearly undecided,
uncertain or doubtful throughout, you aren't plotting
effectively.
Suspense is the result of well balanced
conflict.
The audience picks the person or persons it
wants to win in a conflict, but it also wants a run for
its money. So there is a give and take in a well
constructed plot.
The protagonist wins a little and loses a
little in the conflict, all the while continuing to
demonstrate to the audience that he is worthwhile and
deserving of their support for him.
In sustaining suspense never allow the final
outcome to become obvious or apparent, for the moment
the audience "sees through" a story, interest is
lessened or is lost.
Suspense is much stronger than expectation.
We may say that expectation is the hope that something
will happen. Suspense is the fear that something may
or may not happen.
There should be great doubt about the outcome
of your story. Given an equal balance between two
possibilities, the greater the doubt, the greater the
suspense.
"Suspense cannot be maintained unless the
audience is deftly kept in eager desire to know how it
ends, and not quite sure of what is going to happen
next, or how that happening is going to be met and
treated by the characters," wrote Eustance Hale Ball of
silent films in 1915. "Yet, the audience must be
permitted to see a trifle more of the various movements
of the characters than they do themselves; to judge,
with an inward appreciation of their own cleverness,
somewhat of the finale; to understand motives and
actions which cause misunderstanding among the
characters themselves. This is the supreme trick of
pleasing an audience, the artistic unfolding of the
story in such a way as to let them peep a little way
ahead, to see a little way back, and yet hang on
tenterhooks to know just `how' and `when' and `who'
will win the victory."
It is no less true
today than it was in 1915.