|
QUICK NAVIGATIONThe front pageBegin here Columns Questions and answers Dictionary Library Reference list Links About me Sitemap Contact me/Kontakta mig ![]()
|
The holy fool
The movie, television and the publishing industry are full of fools. Thatīs it and I stand for it.
Iīm not talking about producers who buy bad ideas, or publishers who treat people like garbage. Iīm talking about the stories. Every single story you can think of will include at least one idiot, and if it didnīt youīd be very disappointed. Itīs not as strange as it sounds.
All stories have obstacles between the protagonist (the hero or main character) and the goal. There are different kinds of obstacles, but everybodyīs talking about the antagonist (the bad guy or villain), whose conflict with the protagonist is a personal conflict.
There are also physical obstacles, such as locked doors and broken tools. The conflict between protagonist and physical obstacles are often called "war against object".
But the kind of obstacle that the audience associate with best, and the kind that you can vary in most ways, and the kind that creates the most interesting conflicts - thatīs stupidity.
Now youīre wondering what exactly I mean by stupidity. Well, itīs not that kind of stupidity where your characters stare with their mouths open, but plot stupidity.
Plot stupidity. Thatīs the kind of stupidity that involves making Sir Anthony Hopkins a fool, and having him thanking you for it.
How? Letīs say youīre going to watch a movie starring Sir Anthony Hopkins (who portrayed Hannibal Lecter in three films, by the way), and some other actors. Heīs playing a man looking for his daughter. When the movie starts, he knows exactly where his daughter is. So he goes and takes her home. End of film.
It doesnīt sound very exciting, does it? You would fall asleep, or liking Sir Anthony, you would wait for what happened after he and his daughter got home. But an astute writer such as yourself of course recognise that the movie lacks an antagonist. Okay, so letīs add a villain:
Sir Anthony Hopkins plays a dad looking for his daughter. He knows exactly where he is. So he goes. But thereīs her evil boyfriend (played by Michael Madsen), who refuses to let her go. After a hard struggle, Sir Tony manages to defeat Mr Madsen, and takes his daughter home.
This version is certainly better, but itīs still not very good. As soon as you see the boyfriend youīll know whatīs going to happen, and who of Sir Tony and Michael Madsen is going to win. So what do we do to keep our grip over the audience created by a gripping trailer and an agressive ad campaign?
The standard solution in action films would be to throw in some car chases, explosions and a vicious knife fight at the very end, and perhaps that would make an interesting movie, but most likely not. The standard solution in a drama would let Sir Anthony and Mr Madsen talk at length about loyalty, love and fatherhood, or some other matter, and it would still not be interesting. And other genres would throw in their respective standard sequences, all resulting in a mediocre film.
A more prudent course of action is to summon the guardian angel of fools, and beg for a small loan. In fact, more than a handful of small loans...
Letīs say neither Sir Tony nor Mr Nicholson discovers the misunderstanding. Then there can be several sequences where it is almost discovered, before it is finally revealed, preferably at the wrong moment.
Thatīs plot stupidity! I hope that the message was loud and clear: plot stupidity is important, and you canīt really get too much of it in a story.
It doesnīt have anything to do with intelligence. Sherlock Holmes and other equally smart detectives are plot stupid most of the time in their stories. Itīs about the writer making the protagonist imperfect, and thatīs the key if you want the audience to be able to relate to them.
And plot stupidity is present in every genre, from action movies to serious dramas to television sci-fi shows to sitcoms. You name it, itīs there. Itīs just not called plot stupidity. Itīs called excentrisms, weaknesses, quirks, vices, internal conflict or something like that. But now thereīs a name for all of that.
Besides, the level of the foolīs intelligence makes the audience stick at the same level. In other words, you can control how much the audience should get, what red herrings the audience should follow, etc. If they keep their eyes on their stand-in, and not on the fact situation, it becomes so much easier to trick them. And then you can reveal the bigger truth at the end of the story. Itīs outrageous how big things you can hide from the audience, as long as they are occupied by something else, especially if itīs emotional.
An example of how this rule is broken: a stupid question that only exists to set up a punchline.
An example: if Sigourney Weaverīs character in COPYCAT hadnīt been agoraphobic, she would have easily handled the killer. Her phobias are really the only thing we know of her, and yet we feel that we know her. Thatīs because she delivers a healthy dose of plot stupidity. Itīs not until itīs 30 minutes left that she does something useful. But, she has a very good reason for being plot stupid. We have seen that reason. On the other hand we need no reason for her to succeed. As long as the clues are there, we accept it.
So, writing will more and more be about creating believable and insurmountable stupidity-obstacles, blocking the characters and the audience from understanding more than you want them to understand. Thatīs why the audience doesnīt know that the entire testimony is false in UNUSUAL SUSPECTS. Thatīs why Harrison Ford doesnīt get who killed his wife in THE FUGITIVE. So why do you think you didnīt figure out the ending of THEREīS SOMETHING ABOUT MARY before it ended?
HOMER: Okay, okay, donīt panic. To find Flanders, I just have to think like Flanders!
But how do you explain things that everybody present should know about, and the audience doesnīt? You canīt do it like in novels, using a storyteller, so how? This is how you do not do it: by making one character stupid for a moment, so that another can explain.
And this is how you do it: make the characters disagree about the thing that needs explaining, and then the audience can learn during the conflict. Smooth, huh?
By now, it should be obvious how great a trick this plot stupidity really is. Yet itīs only now that itīs getting interesting, because itīs now that I will prove my thesis:
By giving you so much to think about, and by giving you insurmountable obstacles on the road, where I have pretended to be on your level, as if we were learning as we went along, I have managed to hide the ending from you.
Itīs not until now that you will see that we are stupid, all of us. Us writers too. We are human beings, and we cannot understand life when we are living it, but with a slight lag. And thatīs okay. In fact, thatīs why we can connect with the audience. They are like us. We are all stupid.
At least, plot stupid.
By Lennart Guldbrandsson
|