John August

Story and Plot

Symphonies and screenplays

Story and Plot

Roger Kamien’s description of the sonata form, a building block of the classical symphony, will seem familiar to screenwriters:

> The amazing durability and vitality of sonata form result from its capacity for drama. The form moves from a stable situation toward conflict (in the exposition), to heightened tension (in the development), and then back to stability and resolution of conflict. The following illustration shows an outline:

This line of rising action is also the basis of modern screenplay structure.

No matter how you dress it up with templates and turning points, most movies work this way: you meet your players and themes, set them against each other, let things get rough, then find a new normal.

> Sonata form is exceptionally flexible and subject to endless variation. It is not a rigid mold into which musical ideas are poured. Rather, it may be viewed as a set of principles that serve to shape and unify contrasts of theme and key.

With its long arcs and built-in act breaks, I’d argue that TV writing is even more symphonically-structured than features. Showrunners are our composers; Hollywood is our Vienna.

(I’m reading Kamien’s book on [Inkling](https://www.inkling.com/store/music-roger-kamien-7th/) for iPad, which is a remarkably good way to handle a textbook about music. The built-in tracks and listening outlines are ingenious. The chapter on classical music is currently free, and highly recommended.)

The two kinds of endings

Indie, Story and Plot

In [The Art of Fiction](http://www.amazon.com/Art-Fiction-Notes-Craft-Writers/dp/0679734031), John Gardner makes an interesting point about endings:

>[Stories] can end in only one of two ways: in resolution, when no further event can take place (the murderer has been caught and hanged, the diamond has been found and restored to its owner, the elusive lady has been capture and married), or in logical exhaustion, our recognition that we’ve reached the stage of infinite repetition; more events might follow, perhaps from now till Kingdom Come, but they will all express the same thing–for example, the character’s entrapment in empty ritual or some consistently wrong response to the pressures of his environment.

> Resolution is of course the classical and usually more satisfying conclusion; logical exhaustion satisfies us intellectually but often not emotionally, since it’s more pleasing to see things definitely achieved or thwarted than to be shown why they can never be either achieved or thwarted.

Observed: very few Hollywood movies take the logical exhaustion route, but you find it all the time in indies and foreign films.

/via [Susan Wise Bauer](http://books.google.com/books?id=7T-1jnYgIWUC&pg=PA79&lpg=PA79&dq=logical+exhaustion+well+educated+mind+Bauer&source=bl&ots=Ym29VX-nHL&sig=Wau7gV-KQ2PfnTVn-i7l_58w714&hl=en&ei=vEU4TpaACcPTgQfLyvSEAg&sa=X&oi=book_result&ct=result&resnum=1&ved=0CCsQ6AEwAA#v=onepage&q&f=false)

If we played by the rules right now we’d be in gym

QandA, Story and Plot

questionmarkI have read countless things about what makes a screenplay sell, however, when I look at a film like Ferris Bueller’s Day Off I can’t help but wonder how a screenplay like this sold.

All I’ve heard from the experts is that you need character arcs and all that jazz but I just don’t see that in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. He wakes up and gets back in bed the same person, right?

Obviously it’s a great film, an instant classic but it just seems to defy everything a “great screenplay” should have by today’s standards. Any thoughts?

— Nick
Rhode Island

answer iconYou could spend a semester studying what makes Ferris Bueller such a classic, but the character arc thing is easily answered:

Ferris doesn’t change. Cameron does. Cameron is the reluctant protagonist, literally dragged along by Ferris. By the end of the story, Cameron has changed a little, with plans to stand up to his father. Arcs don’t have to be epic.

As I’ve [said before](http://johnaugust.com/archives/2005/whats-the-difference-between-hero-main-character-and-protagonist), the main character doesn’t have to protagonate. Yes, in most movies, your hero is the protagonist and it’s all cut and dried. But it’s not the only way a story can work.

If you’re ever confused, refer to Michael Goldenberg’s advice: The protagonist is the character that suffers the most.

In this case, that’s Cameron.

How much screen time does the hero get?

QandA, Story and Plot

questionmarkMy question deals with the amount of screen time the main character(s) receives in a script. In other words, how much screen time can be devoted to the main character(s)? Is there a unspecified limit as to how much face time a main character gets on screen?

The reason I ask is because I feel as if the viewer needs breaks from constantly seeing the main character(s) on screen.

For instance, the script that I am currently writing has two main characters that receive relatively the same amount of screen time. The two characters lead separate lives and do not meet until about page 60-65, of a planned 110 page script, where their lives intertwine.

So, is it feasible that these two characters are seen in every scene of the movie (be it that they share or do not share the scene together)? Or is it better to develop minor characters that serve as breaks in the film which would serve the purpose of moving the story forward as well as give the viewer a break from seeing the two main characters on screen?

— Nick
Long Island, New York

Your hero can be on-screen 100% of the time, as Ryan Reynolds is in Buried. There’s no rule that you need scenes centered around other characters.

In fact, many high-concept comedies focus almost exclusively on their heroes. Consider Groundhog Day or Liar, Liar. There’s hardly a scene in which the hero isn’t front-and-center.

But it’s true that in most stories, you’re going to want something else to cut away to: a villain, a supporting character, an asteroid headed this way. Cutting to something is a crucial part of pacing, and you generally gain more energy by cutting to something new than following a single character through a series of actions.

Part of planning your story is deciding which characters are allowed to take the wheel and drive scenes. In your case, it sounds like you’re ping-ponging between your two main characters, which is a well-accepted structure. As long as the story feels like it’s moving forward, your audience probably won’t object to the distribution of screen time.