Today, we delve into the acclaimed film Oppenheimer, a masterpiece that takes us on a gripping journey through the life of its complex protagonist, J. Robert Oppenheimer.
As the film progresses, we get to know Oppenheimer as a brilliant physicist, driven by a passion for scientific discovery. At the start, his character effervesces confidence and intellectual brilliance, arrogance even, seen through his charismatic interactions with fellow scientists, and his passionate and ambitious pursuit of groundbreaking research.
Oppenheimer’s early character arc reveals a deep commitment to his work, a side dish of womanising, a more than a passing interest in communism, and a seeming indifference to the moral implications of scientific progress.
As the story unfolds, however, we begin to notice a shift in his priorities and demeanour. The death of his one-time lover, too, seems to affect him deeply. The conflict within him begins to emerge after he is tasked with heading the project to develop the atomic bomb during World War II. This once confident scientist is suddenly faced with the ethical dilemma of helping to bring about the creation of a weapon capable of destroying the world.
”Oppenheimer is a man haunted by the moral ambiguity of his actions that changed the world forever.”
We witness Oppenheimer beginning to wrestle with his conscience, questioning the moral consequences of his actions. This is the beginning of a profound transformation of his character arc.
As the war progresses, so does Oppenheimer’s internal conflict. The weight of his choices on his conscience starts to affect him physically and emotionally. This is seen in his strained relationships and haunted expressions.
As his character arc approaches its completion, we witness Oppenheimer grappling with the consequences of his choices. This once-confident scientist is now a man burdened by the moral complexities of his actions. We are left with a nuanced and thought-provoking portrayal of someone whose pursuit of knowledge has led him down the path to moral ambiguity.
The climax of Oppenheimer’s character arc occurs when he fully confronts the devastating impact of the creation he has helped to develop. The contrast between his initial enthusiasm for scientific progress and the brutal reality of nuclear devastation creates a tremendous narrative tension.
Summary
The film Oppenheimer, then, adroitly explores the complexities of its protagonist’s character arc. As writers, we can draw inspiration from Oppenheimer’s transformative journey to help us write rich, true-to-life characters who reflect on the results of choices they make in the pursuit of knowledge and progress.
In screenwriting, where economy of space is at a premium, it is important to write action and character descriptions crisply and effectively. Although this article applies mainly to screenwriters, novelists ought to take some of these suggestions to heart too.
In describing characters or incidents in the action block: a) Write in the present tense: the story is unfolding right in front of you after all. b) Be concise: Describe only what is essential to the character and the story. Limit your descriptions to three or four lines, or less. c) Cut to the chase—describe only the essence of an action or incident. d) Have every word count. Use strong nouns and verbs. Don’t bolster weak words with adverbs and adjectives—choose better verbs and nouns.
In his book Story Robert McKee implores us to write using only apt nouns and verbs that capture the essence of character and action. The words should immediately paint vivid pictures in the minds of the readers.
In GI JANE the character who propels the protagonist on her mission, a US senator, is described in this way:
‘DEHAVEN is a tough-hided old Southern-belle, Scarlett O’Hara at 60. In her arsenal she carries conversational hand-grenades — and she’s apt to pull a pin at the slightest whim.’
“Be concise and impactful in describing characters and action. Make every word count.”
This description not only imparts information about Dehaven, it conveys her attitude and general demeanour, too. Not bad for two sentences.
Sometimes even the shortest of descriptions will capture the essence of the character:
‘Slimy Piet is short, rough, with the hygiene of an army privy on a hot day.’
Notice how the use of a figure of speech makes us wrinkle our nose. Figures of speech, used as vehicles of exaggeration or comparison, are powerful conveyers of the writer’s attitude towards a character. They are communicators of atmosphere, attitude and detail. Use them sparingly, but do use them.
In writing action, too, we should also use every opportunity to characterise, and convey ‘posture’ and demeanour. Never waste the opportunity to pack as much as possible into a verb or noun: Never write ‘walk’ when you can write ‘saunter, stroll, meander, mosey, and wander. Or if more energy is required: stride, march, storm, dash, streak, and the like. Each of these words says much, and does it economically.
As an exercise unearth one of your neglected stories. Pour over each character description and action block and implement some of the suggestions on offer here.
Summary
Be concise, precise, and impactful in describing characters and actions. Your writing will be the better for it.
One of the most common errors inexperienced writers make is to write scenes that start early and end late. There’s just too much fat at both ends, especially in a screenplay, where every unnecessary line costs hundreds if not thousands of dollars to shoot.
One way to eliminate unnecessary material is to concentrate on the gist of your scene. What is it that you want to convey through your character actions and dialogue? Do so and move on!
In Your Screenplay Sucks, William M Akers provides this example of how to cut a scene to the bone. An earlier draft looked like this:
———————
INT. GRAHAM’S SEVEN PAINTINGS.
Huge, nearly abstract canvases of bloody, dead, eviscerated animals. Road kill under a layer of sloppy handwriting. Graham poses with Magda, more photos.
Magda departs. Camilla approaches.
CAMILLA: I’m Camilla Warren. Nice night.
They shake hands, slowly. She is very appealing.
GRAHAM: Buying, or watching?
CAMILLA: Watching.
She inspects him.
CAMILLA: Sold anything?
GRAHAM: I will.
CAMILLA: When you do, find me.
And she’s gone.
————————-
Here’s how the scene ended up:
INT. GRAHAM’S SEVEN~ PAINTINGS
Huge, nearly abstract canvases of bloody, dead, eviscerated animals. Road kill under a layer of sloppy handwriting. Graham poses with Magda, more photos.
Magda departs. Camilla approaches.
CAMILLA: Sold anything?
GRAHAM: I will.
CAMILLA: When you do, find me.
And she’s gone.
—————————
So, there you have it. To start late and end early means to get to the point. This entails getting rid of unnecessary diversions, greetings and niceties since they slow the pace and muddy the story.
Summary
Scenes should start late and end early. Your story will be more compelling and energetic for it.
Christopher Vogler on the dual function of archetypes.
In a previous post I talked about the dual function of archetypes as presented by Christopher Vogler in his book, The Writers Journey, namely a dramatic and a psychological function. This deserves further explaining.
The dramatic function of an archetype, such as the Hero, is to display behaviour in a way that drives the story forward, but also in a way that pulls readers and audiences into the drama.
Heroes finds themselves in a position where they have to solve a local or societal problem, and to do so in an intriguing and captivating way, if the tale is to succeed. This comes down to the writer employing good dramatic principles such generating suspense, placing the hero before a dilemma, having him or her struggle to master difficult skills, go on a journey of self-discovery, and the like.
“The dual function of archetypes offers the writer a complete system of managing character behaviour.”
The psychological function of an archetype, on the other hand, demonstrates how the hero can achieve success though a process of integration, to use Carl Jung’s term. But integration of what, you may well ask?
Simply stated, the integration of the remaining archetypes, or to put it in another way, through the integration of the energies that dwell within the Self, primarily the Shadow (the dark energy within us all), but also the Mentor, the Herald, the Threshold Guardian, the Shapeshifter, the Ally, and the Trickster. It is only when the Hero acknowledges these energies within, then manages to achieve a balance between them, that he can overcome the physical challenges in the world.
A story, then, can be seen as the projection on the pages of book or the surface of a screen of the energies struggling for balance within one’s self—as the externalisation, personification and hence dramatization of these forces. Understood in this way, Christopher Vogler’s archetypes offer a complete system of writing stories that arise from myth, our collective unconscious, and our deep literary traditions. They are about ourselves as much as they are about the world.
Summary
The dual function of archetypes includes not only the dramatic dimension of stories but the psychological remnants found in humanity’s collective unconscious that form the basis of our rich, mythic traditions.
Bob Rodat scored a hit with Saving Private Ryanafter his agent rejected his earlier screenplay in the gangster genre.
In his book, Your Screenplay Sucks, William M. Akers stresses that understanding the right genre tropes and conventions and their current popularity is essential if your story is to have a chance in the market place. He stresses that if you don’t have a clearly defined, simple to understand genre, you’re probably off to a poor start.
Is the genre of your story a sci-if, a western, a coming of age story? Still not sure by page ten of your screenplay or novel? Then ‘you’re toast.’ If you’re not sure, the readers certainly aren’t either.
Additionally Akers advises that writers work in a genre that they like and are good at. If you only watch cop movies but have decided to write a love story, that might be an attempt to spread your wings, but you probably lack the experience in the genre to pull it off right away.
“Picking the right genre that is going to be all the rage by the time you’re done writing your masterpiece is at best a hit-and-miss affair. The point is to write in the genre you like and to never stop spinning that wheel of fortune.”
Have you decided to write in a specific genre because it’s currently all the rage? Probably a dumb idea. Here’s why: It will take you several months to write that script or novel, perhaps even longer. Now consider how long it takes to bring a story to the screen or press. The genre could well have lost steam by the time you’re done.
Akers provides the example of Bob Rodat who decided to write a gangster movie but send it to his agent on the same week three gangster movies opened and bombed on the circuit. The agent shrugged his script off.
But the story has a happy ending: Bob never gave up and went on to write Saving Private Ryan!
The point is that you never know when the timing’s going to be right for a particular genre. Akers’ advice is therefore to write in a genre you like or are competent in. Be aware, though, that someone else might be thinking the very same thing too. Just never, ever give up on writing and you might get lucky, just like Bob Rodat did!
Summary
Write in a genre that you like and are competent in, knowing that its popularity depends on some timing and a lot of luck.
Robert McKee is one of the foremost mentors on writing.
Do you follow a writing mentor? Do you need to? Well, we are living in an time in which there is an over-abundance of information. This includes information on creative writing and screenwriting. Sifting through it all to find the right stuff can be a challenge.
In an attempt to make this task a little easier I mention five writing mentors whose books are studying.
Although each mentor emphasises different aspects of the screenwriting craft, they all adhere to a similar structural approach that agrees with the film critic John Egan’s definition of a conventional screenplay telling ‘a story that involves a single plot that revolves around a single protagonist who is supported, opposed and offset by a cast of secondary characters.’
Of the five mentors mentioned here, perhaps only Christopher Vogler offers a somewhat different inflection at first glance—-although even he employs a template in his use of the quest as a generic structure. But more of that later.
“I view writing mentor Syd Field’s work as focusing on the structure of a plot which is centered on a protagonist who struggles to achieve the story goal against mounting obstacles.”
Syd Field, who claimed to be one of the first mentors to package Hollywood codes and conventions into a single paradigm, asserts in The Screenwriter’s Workshop, that ‘before you can express your story dramatically, you must know four things: 1) the ending, 2) the beginning, 3) Plot Point I, and 4) Plot Point II. These four elements are the structural foundation of your screenplay.’ He later adds a fifth element, the midpoint, which he defines as ‘a link in the chain of dramatic action.’
Additionally, the midpoint ‘expands the character’s depth and dimension’. Field sees the typical film as comprising three acts, balanced by the midpoint, which breaks up the middle act into two units roughly of equal length. Each act is about 30 pages, or 30 screen minutes, in length and focuses on the vicissitudes of the protagonist’s fortunes.
Linda Seger
Linda Seger follows a similar line, but offers more detail about subplots. In Making a Good Script Great, she writes that ‘subplots give the protagonist an opportunity to smell the flowers, to fall in love, to enjoy a hobby, to learn a new skill.’ Emphasising that the function of subplots is to support and add density to the main plot, Seger stresses that subplots have their own beginning, middle, and end and are most effective when they intersect and connect with the plot line. Importantly, subplots carry the theme of the story. But no conventional story is possible without a central lead.
Michael Hauge
Michael Hauge lays down five essential requirements for crafting a successful protagonist or Hero, the inclusion of which he sees as the first essential element of a well-crafted conventional story. In Writing Screenplays That Sell, Hauge asserts that the Hero, as the vehicle that drives the story forward, must allow for audience identification, pursue a clear and visible goal, face seemingly insurmountable obstacles, and show some sign of courage.
Interestingly, Hauge does not place character growth, which he defines as the ‘character’s search for courage [which] results in greater self-knowledge, maturation, or actualization’, within the first five essential elements of his story-concept checklist, although he does include it at number thirteen, after high concept, originality and familiarity, subplots, genre, medium, and cost, and before theme.
Lastly, Hauge defines theme as ‘a universal statement about the human condition that goes beyond the plot. It is the screenwriter’s prescription for how one should live one’s life.’ Theme, then, is generated from the premise or argument of the story within a wider context of received moral and ethical values.
“Who is your favourite writing mentor?”
Robert McKee
Robert McKee’s Story, in addition to concepts already explored above, the book includes a survey of major non-canonical forms which he labels ‘anti-plot’ and ‘miniplot’, as well as a detailed examination of genres.
McKee’s definition of the following terms is also useful: The Premise is that which shapes the dramatic context of the story by asking an open-ended question – ‘What would happen if…?’; a beat is ‘an exchange of behaviour in action/reaction’; a scene is ‘a story event, usually in continuous time and space’; an act is ‘a series of sequences that peaks in a climactic scene which causes a major reversal of values’; the inciting incident, as ‘the first major event of the telling, is the primary cause for all that follows’; and the ‘obligatory scene’ or crisis, is ‘an event the audience knows it must see before the story can end’, which most often takes the form of a final confrontation between the protagonist and antagonistic forces.
Christopher Vogler – writing mentor extraordinaire
Christopher Vogler, by contrast, employs a mythological approach, inspired by the work of the American mythologist Joseph Campbell, defining the screenplay in terms of a quest. In The Writer’s Journey, Vogler describes each stage of the narrative as a journey undertaken by the Hero as he struggles to achieve his goal.
Here the Hero starts in the Ordinary World, receives a Call to Adventure, which initially results in The Refusal. He typically meets with The Mentor, Crosses the First Threshold, is Tested by Enemies and assisted by Allies, approaches the Innermost Cave, suffers an Ordeal, is Rewarded, begins his Journey Back, is Resurrected, and finally Returns with The Elixir. In doing so, he is aided and impeded by a host of archetypal characters (or combination thereof); namely, the Mentor, the Threshold Guardian, the Herald, the Shapeshifter, the Shadow, the Ally, and the Trickster.
This approach to storytelling has much in common with Vladimir Propp’s description of the fairy tale, in terms of character function, put forward in his Morphology of the Folk Tale. Although some of Vogler’s offerings seem ostensibly different from other mentors, his definition of character and character action, in adhering to a predetermined template based on structuring narrative elements according to function, remains much the same as Field’s, Hauge’s, Seger’s, and McKee’s.
Summary
Syd Field, Michael Hauge, Linda Seger, Christopher Vogler, and Robert McKee are five important writing mentors who have packaged much of Hollywood’s conventional wisdom into various screenwriting systems. Collectively, they offer new and established writers an opportunity to deepen their knowledge of the writing craft.
Steven Spielberg had to persevere with the script of E.T. for years before he persuaded bankers to let him make it.
Why persevere? Well, if it’s lonely at the top it’s even lonelier at the bottom.
Unfortunately, the bottom is where many writers spend their most formative years.
Getting published or having a script made into a movie has always been hard for a writer.
Steven Spielberg brandished the script of E.T. for several years before he convinced financiers to let him make it. Writer Stephen King’s rejection slips could fill an entire wall before he became one of the world’s most popular writers.
These sorts of accounts are legion.
But then, in 2007, something changed, for novelists anyway. Amazon’s kindle came along and the sun broke through the clouds.
The idea of reading stories on tablets proved contagious. Other companies followed suit with their own brand of e-readers. New writers flooded the market. Some were really good, launching sustainable careers. Others, not so much.
“The truth is that writing screenplays and novels, and attempting to get them read, is as difficult as winning a medal in a long-distance marathon. You have to persevere.”
Still, writers could publish their work on these platforms and get feedback from their readers in the form of reviews. Sales, some sky high, some more down to earth, followed.
Then, something changed again. Amazon began to tighten the screws. Algorithms were altered, making it harder to get noticed. Reviews became subject to all sorts of restrictions – some justified, some not. Sales plummeted.
Some writers lost steam. Others gave up on their dream of becoming writers altogether. It was too hard, too lonely, at the bottom.
Sound familiar?
There are many moments during a race where it seems easier to give up than to press on. These moments become even more tempting as the race drags on and you find yourself alone on the road and gasping for breath. You need something special to keep you going.
But perhaps the solution is all around you.
Do you fear not finishing? Simply giving up? Then use that fear to drive you on.
Concerned that you are not good enough to produce high quality work? Then read the blogs and articles on how to improve your craft and put the advice into practice.
But even more importantly, try to remember that magical moment that first got you writing. There is something timeless and powerful in that moment — an antidote to doubt.
Become familiar with it. Learn to conjure it up at will. Use it to inspire you when you need it most.
That moment, together with a sense of what life might be without your dream, might just help keep you in the race.
Summary
To persevere means to keep writing, reading books and watching movies – to keep learning. And to never give up.
In Macbeth, the protagonist has a compelling character profile. He is brave and courageous man but with one damning flaw — overriding ambition.
A characterprofile helps you write compelling characters—the mainstay of any story.
Learning to write fictional characters is a life-long endeavour; it draws on our personal growth as we journey through life, learning from our actions, both good and bad.
There are, however, specific techniques that we, as writers, may immediately use to improve our craft. One such technique is to deploy a character profile prior to commencing the writing of your character(s).
In this post we examine six such elements: Basic traits, want vs. need, opposing elements, secrets, flaws, and uniqueness.
The character profile check-list:
1. Basic Traits
Fictional characters usually have three or four basic traits that help shape their actions. In the movie, Rocky, for example, the protagonist is a hardworking journeyman boxer whose toughness and relentless determination to take whatever the opponent can throw at him help to propel him to a world heavyweight championship fight.
2. Want vs. Need
What a character wants is not always what he or she needs. In fact, some of the most compelling characters are forged out of this opposition. A want is usually manifested through the pursuit of an outer goal, while a need is often obfuscated by that very goal. Rocky ostensibly wants to go the distance with the heavyweight champion of the world. What he needs, however, is to bolster his self-respect by enduring the punishment the champion throws at him.
3. Opposing Elements
Inner conflict arising out of warring elements makes for more interesting characters. In Unforgiven, William Munny a cold blooded killer in his youth is reformed by his loving wife, now dead, who continues to influence him beyond the grave. In accepting a job to kill the men who cut up the face of a prostitute, Munny repeatedly asserts that his wife has cured him of his evil ways, and he has only agreed to take on the job in an attempt to dispense justice and provide a fresh start for his children from the reward money.
4. Keeping Secrets
Someone with a secret makes for a far more compelling character. Secrets promote suspense, surprise, and enrich the backstory, allowing the writer to craft situations that are inherently more engaging and resonant. In the film, Chinatown, Evelyn Mulwray ‘s dialogue and actions resonate with a terrible secret—that her daughter is also her sister, a result of an act of incest perpetrated by her own father. It is only when Jake Gittes learns of this towards the end of the film that he is able to fully understand the reason for her odd and seemingly deceitful behavior.
“A character profile pin-points the elements that will create the depth, complexity, and verisimilitude in that character.”
5. The Flaw
A character with a flaw seems more human, allowing the writer to play his strengths off against his weaknesses, heightening the inner and outer conflict. In the Shakespearean play, Macbeth, the protagonist is a brave and courageous man who has one damning flaw — overriding ambition. This makes him susceptible to the suggestions of others, especially his wife, that he should be king. This flaw drives the story and ultimately determines Macbeth’s fate — his death.
6. Uniqueness
A unique personality doesn’t have to be bizarre; one or two unique habits or unusual traits are often enough to make a character stand out from the pack. In the novel, The Great Gatsby, Jay Gatsby is a wealthy, mysterious man who throws outlandish parties in the hope of attracting Daisy — the great love of his life — to one of them. The unique trait that distinguishes him from everyone else of his ilk is his gift for wonder, his capacity to stay true to his beloved vision of Daisy.
Summary
A character profile helps us write compelling characters. It helps ensure the action and dialogue stay on track.
Producers and publishers have limited time at their disposal. They continuously receive requests to read new work, most of which they eventually reject. The one-page proposal is designed to capture their attention at a glance.
Think of the one page proposal as a selling document designed to hook the reader through the power and originality of your story idea—it doesn’t necessarily have to tell the whole story. The intention of this document is to impress the reader enough to have her request the fuller treatment, or, the first draft of your story. A proposal, therefore, must not be confused with a one page synopsis in that it isn’t designed to summarise the entire story. Rather, a proposal ought to fit on a single side of A4 paper or, on a single screen, and contain a lot of white space—in other words, appear uncluttered and be easy to read.
”The one-page proposal is a marketing document intend to interest agents, publishers, and producers in a story.”
Most importantly, the one-page proposal ought to:
1. Contain a powerful log-line.
2. Propel the reader into imagining the entire project. It should set up the location, period, mood, and genre of the story. The more vivid and engaging the description contained in the proposal, the better the chance that it will hook and ignite the reader’s interest in it.
3. Identify the target audience/ reader
4. Contain the main story question—e.g. Will Maverick and his team of ace pilots succeed in bombing a foreign country’s unsanctioned uranium enrichment plant? (Top Gun: Maverick.) In the case of a movie or television script proposal: Reveal if any production elements that are already attached, such as actors, director, producer, or, are interested in the project.
Summary
The one-page proposal is intended to create interest in your project without taking up too much time. A successful proposal results in the agent, publisher, or producer asking for the treatment or first draft of your story.
STORY consultant Linda Seger reminds us that memorable, dialogue, including memorable one-liners, is an indispensable part of any enduring story.
Memorable dialogue has rhythm, context and veracity. It conveys character through subtext and promotes plot through subtlety, ingenuity and compression.
Sometimes a line of dialogue rises to the status of theme and serves to sum up the premise of the story. At its best, it becomes a meme, an item in our menu of commonly used expressions.
In my classes on storytelling, I urge my students to come up with several supercharged lines in their story that not only capture some important aspect of a character, but that also sum up or, at least, highlight important features of the tale.
“Memorable one-liners become memes, spreading throughout society and immortalising their source narratives.”
Such snippets of dialogue increase their power through repetition, not only within the story itself, (the line is repeated by the same or other characters), but also extradigetically, through the viewers and readers who quote it in their everyday lives.
Who can forget these immortal lines?
1. “Go ahead, make my day.” 2. “I have a feeling we’re not in Kansas any more.” 3. “Life is like a box of chocolates.” 4. “I’ll be back.” 5. “I love the smell of napalm in the morning.” 6. “I’m not bad. I’m just drawn that way.” 7. “I’m going to make you an offer you can’t refuse.”
Memorable lines of dialogue echo, sing, resonate, surprise and excite. Like great music, they keeps replaying itself over and over in our minds.
How many of the lines mentioned above can you place? Check below for the answers.
Summary
Memorable dialogue, including memorable one-liners, performs many functions in a story. At its best, it becomes a meme that spreads throughout society, immortalising its source.
1. Dirty Harry 2. The Wizard of Oz 3. Forrest Gump 4. Terminator 5. Apocalypse Now 6. Who Killed Roger Rabbit 7. The Godfather
