by Blake Snyder
That's Bad Guys Close In. Externally, aliens are actually attacking. Internally, we are still clinging to our old beliefs.
And one by one they are being exposed as false.
Resistance is not as easy to write as proactive, leading-the-charge, directioned activity that heroes normally exhibit.
How do you reveal the internal fear of a hero, for whom it's gradually being revealed her old beliefs are wrong? How do you show panic — which most heroes are trying not to show?
That's why BGCI is so tough to write!
But if you know that's the purpose of that section, it's at least easier to think about, plan, and aim for in your writing. This is disintegration of the old ways, the slow sloughing off of ideas, beliefs, and friendships that are wrong, useless, harmful. The horrible realization that the keyhole is near and you're going through it and there's no escape. We… are… going!
And that realization begins at the Magical Midpoint.
THE THEME STATED – B STORY CONNECTION
Why are there so many scenes at Midpoint that involve the “hero kissing a girl,” you may well ask? It's because another intersection that happens here at Midpoint is the A and B Story cross. And since many writers have asked for more on this, there's no time like the present for further elucidat'n’.
Midpoint is not only where we “raise the stakes” of the hero's A Story, but where we do the same for the B Story. And that's why the boy and girl so often kiss here — or at least come close. I told this “discovery” to an old-time screenwriter once, thinking myself quite brilliant for having figured this out all by myself, only to be told by him: “Oh yeah!‘Sex at Sixty’!” That was the term he and his screenwriting buddies used for the “kiss at the first hour.” It just goes to show that where the basics of storytelling are concerned, nothing changes.
As suggested, most movies have two intertwining skeins:
The A Story is the hero's tangible goal, what he wants.
The B Story is the hero's spiritual goal, what he needs.
The A Story is what is happening on the surface. It's the plot. The B Story, or what I call the “helper story,” helps push the hero to learn the spiritual lesson that every story is really all about. Most often the B Story is “the love interest” aka “the girl.” The hero enters the upside-down version of the world of Act Two, looks across a crowded room, and there she is — the person who'll help him on his way to transformation, and hold his hand as he dies and is reborn! And, of course, because she can't be with him when they meet (otherwise where'd we have to go?), the process of boy wins girl, boy loses girl, boy gets girl back in a poker game, is seen time and again in a thousand forms.
“The girl” can also be “the mentor.” Check out the B Story of the hit comedy Dodgeball: A True Underdog Story. Who's the B Story? Who's the “helper” character that will push hero Vince Vaughn to learn his lesson in leadership? Why it's Rip Torn, as down-and-out ex-dodgeball champ, Patches O'Houlihan! Proof comes when seeing how the B Story beats of that movie line up. We first meet Patches on page 30, when Vince and his team see an old dodgeball instructional film starring the younger Patches (Hank Azaria). At Midpoint, the stakes are raised, and A and B cross, when an older Patches arrives in the flesh and — publicly — tells Vince that he is now the team's coach. Since all mentors go to page 75 to die, Patches does too, giving Vince pause before pushing him to action in Act Three, where Patches even reappears — en spirito — to give Vince the ghostly final shove he needs to go on to dodgeball greatness. Rudimentary? Yes. Silly? Of course!
And yet this basic construct appears again and again.
Whether the B Story is one person like a love interest, mentor, or sidekick, or a group such as the host of helpers the heroes learn from in the Act Two worlds of Legally Blonde, Miss Congeniality, and Gladiator, these B Story pulse points denote the function of forcing the hero to learn his real lesson.
And all of it ties back into Theme!
Keep in mind the only reason for storytelling and why A and B must cross throughout: It's to show the true reason for the journey is not getting the tangible goal, but learning the spiritual lesson that can only be found through the B Story!
The Theme Stated moment on page 5 of a well-structured screenplay ties in to the lesson the hero will learn. This is the place, up front, when you as writer get to say what this movie is about — and it might take a few drafts to enunciate precisely. A clue for finding it is seeing how the B Story “helps” the hero learn the lesson. When you do figure it out, state the lesson up front, tie it to the B Story's introduction on page 30, the raising of the stakes at Midpoint, the moment of clarity that helps the hero realize his error in Dark Night of the Soul, and the final push into Act Three the hero needs to learn his lesson — and triumph.
OTHER INTERESTING PHENOMENA
The various sections of the Transformation Machine are each different. They serve a different need, have a different tone, and yet all point to the same goal: change. They also help troubleshoot our brilliant ideas that don't quite fit, or that we don't quite know what to do with — and even help with the problem of selling our scripts. The Fun and Games is a great example of this.
“Fun and Games” is my term, and indicates, I hope, where the “promise of the premise” of a movie is found. It's the part where the hero first enters and explores the Antithesis world — and it's “fun” to the extent that we are not as concerned with plot as we are with seeing what this new world is about. But this term has also led to confusion. What's “fun” about the series of bodies found in this section of many murder mysteries and slasher flicks? What's “fun” about Russell Crowe in Gladiator being given up for dead and learning the ropes of Spartacus-like combat? While not every Fun and Games section is purely fun, it does offer us a cool way to troubleshoot the problem of figuring out what the poster of your movie is, if you don't know. Why?
Because the Fun and Games is your pitch!
I can't tell you the a-ha! moment that occurred for me when this fact hit me. I was trying to help a writer get her adventure going. It's like Miss Congeniality, I was telling her, by the time you hit page 25, the story is on! Tomboy FBI agent, Sandra Bullock, is undercover… Then a lightbulb. I saw Sandra in her gown, crown, and sash, a gun in her garter. That's the Fun and Games of Miss Congeniality.
It's the poster!
It's the concept!
To me, a guy very concerned with delivering on his premise, I thought that was enough to worry about. But knowing this new twist, I can also reverse engineer both what goes into Fun and Games and how to double-check to make sure it's my movie's crux.
This is an important a-ha! because when you're trying to figure out what your story is, you will pitch all kinds of things: Setting, Theme, Catalyst, even the Finale of your tale.
I've heard them all. And they're all not your movie.
No, the movie is not where it's set. It's not its “meaning.” It's not how the hero is “called to action.” And it's not the big slam-bang Finale — even though all these are vital.
It's the Fun and Games.
That's your movie.
And if your Fun and Games section isn't solid, or isn't delivering on your premise, now's the time to find out.
Looking at the map on page 47, and seeing all the pieces of this flow chart, helps us see other points of interest, too, ones which, while I stood at the whiteboard, led to similar a-ha! moments.
One really interesting point of comparison is the similarity between two sections: “Catalyst – Debate – Break into Two” and “All Is Lost – Dark Night of the Soul – Break into 3.”
Just look at how these sets of plot points line up:
– Catalyst and All Is Lost are both points where something is done to the hero. In Catalyst, it's innocent, an invitation, a telephone call, the discovery of news that starts the adventure. The All Is Lost is also done to the hero, but it's more serious: This is where he's evicted, fired, loses his significant other,
or someone dies. It's a different tone, but the same function.
– Debate and Dark Night of the Soul also are alike. It's… hesitation. Having received an invitation or, later, when the stakes are more serious, and having experienced a death, jail, or exile… now what? Again, the difference is that early on the consequences are few; later, more serious. But the function is the same: Given a life-altering jolt, what will the hero do next?
– Break into Two and Break into Three is the response. Both are proactive moves on the part of the hero that take him to the next level. Having been hit with something, and thought about it, the hero now acts. Here again, the stakes are more serious later on because we are just about to face “the final test.”
And all these sections of your movie are designed to do what the entire Transformation Machine is set up to accomplish: Force change in the hero or heroes — and in us, the audience.
So are we done yet? Not quite.
THE FIVE-POINT FINALE
When it comes to “structure dilemmas,” no part of a story can be more frustrating than Act Three — one about which I realize I am guilty of not revealing all. I have been amused by how often I get called out on point #14 in my 15-point Blake Snyder Beat Sheet — the one that is simply labeled “Finale.” “Well, thanks a pantload, Blake,” is the gist of the objection. And while I say the basis of this section is Synthesis, it doesn't seem quite enough. Where is the little red button that Tommy Lee Jones told Will Smith not to touch in Men in Black that Save the Cat! is known for? Because when you're deep in it, and have tried every trick you can to solve the problem, I want you to not only have that button, but to push it!
I am most excited about what I call the “Five-Point Finale” because by using it you can finish any story. And though I've had a version in my back pocket for a while, it wasn't until I began helping writers that I realized how useful it is. We've seen how the hero is thrown into the Transformation Machine and forced to change, but how do you finish this process? Synthesis gives us one clue. But when it comes to figuring out what to do, I hope you will soon be rocketing upside down through the Holland Tunnel smiling — and thinking fondly of me.
In addition to Act Three being about Synthesis, the Third Act Finale is best seen as the “Final Exam” for the hero. Having started off naively, and been schooled in the world of hard knocks, he has died and been given the chance to be born anew. But has he learned his lesson? And can he apply it? There is no better way to show this test than in what I call Storming the Castle, the essence of every ending and the key to the Five-Point Finale.
What is the “castle”? And what are these five points?
1. Gathering the Team – The first step, once the hero has decided to proactively cross into Act Three, is the “Gathering of the Team,” those he'll need to “storm the castle.” The castle can be anything, from an actual fortress (the “Death Star” in Star Wars), to getting on stage at a local rock club (School of Rock), to helping your girl reach the airport (Casablanca), to “rushing to the airport” to stop your girl from leaving without you (Love Actually). A big part of being able to do this is the rallying of allies, who may not be on speaking terms with the hero at the moment, and “amending hurts” to be able to work together. It also involves “gathering tools,” and making plans for what we hope will be a successful run at the task at hand. This includes “strapping on the guns” in The Matrix, when Keanu Reeves and Carrie-Anne Moss literally choose the weapons they'll need to storm the castle and free their captured mentor Morpheus (Laurence Fishburne) from the clutches of… those guys.
2. Executing the Plan – The second step is the actual “Storming of the Castle” when the execution of the plan feels foolproof. Sure it's a challenge, and there must be some sense in every Storming of the Castle that “this is crazy.” In fact, that very line is heard in many Finales just to let you in the audience know what an impossible task is at hand. “This can't be done” is key to setting up the challenge our heroes face. But as the plan begins to unfold, by gum, we just might pull off this crazy plan! We're succeeding! The team is working together like a well-oiled machine. In many instances this is also where we pay off the arcs and proofs of growth for the minor characters, and show how that defect they had at the beginning of the story is now “fixed” — and even useful — thanks to the journey the hero dragged his pals along on. It's all looking good here. And yet there is a sense as the goal nears that this is too easy. Sure we've lost some nameless soldiers, who demonstrate their loyalty by taking a bullet for the team (Randy Quaid in Independence Day, Rhys Ifans in Notting Hill, those way-too-happy-to-die pilots in Star Wars), but the crew is together and the High Tower in sight.
3. The High Tower Surprise – The third step in the Five-Point Finale proves how overly optimistic that assessment was. For this is the part where the hero reaches the High Tower where the princess is being kept and finds something shocking: no princess! (For a twist on the “Princess,” check out the Five-Point Finale of Enchanted, which proves Princesses can often save their own damn selves, thank you very much!) But the point is made: The High Tower Surprise shows we were not only overly confident in our plan — overconfidence is one of the problems! Seems not only is the plan dashed, but the Bad Guy, or the forces aligned against our hero, “knew we were coming” all along. This is the part where “traitors are exposed” and our brilliant plan is revealed to be a trap set by the Bad Guys (as Russell Crowe in Gladiator discovers when his plot to rally Rome and overthrow Joaquin Phoenix proves to be doomed from the start). The effort now comes to a dead stop. The hero and his allies are “arrested in their tracks,” and the “clock is ticking” on our doom. It looks like all is lost again! However smart our hero thought he was up to this point, however much he's done to “synthesize” his lesson by reuniting his allies and giving it his all… it's not enough. The shock of the High Tower Surprise is learning that's not what this effort has been about. And the real challenge of the Final Exam the hero must pass is about to become clear.
4. “Dig, Deep Down” – The whole point of the Finale now is revealed — and it's not what we expected. This is the part where all human solution is exhausted. This is where we've got bupkis; there's not a back-up plan, nor an alternate course in sight. And it's all come down to the hero — who's got nothing either. Yet, as it turns out… this is the true test! In a sense, every story is about the “stripping away” of the stuff the hero thinks is important at the start of the story, including his own little ideas for winning at the end. This is the part where the hero has to find that last ounce of strength to win but can't use normal means to do so. And lest you think this is a goofy, “formula” thing, in fact it is the whole point of storytelling. For this is the part we've waited for, the “touched-by-the-divine” beat where the hero lets go of his old logic and does something he would never do when this movie began.
Devoid of a human solution, the hero returns to the blackness he succumbed to during the cocoon stage of his transformation to prove he's mastered that part of himself that is beyond human to find faith, inner strength, a last-ditch idea, love, grace. It's the Dig-Deep-Down moment all stories teach us: At some point we have to abandon the natural world, and everything we think we know, and have faith in a world unseen. This is the part in Star Wars where we hear Obi-Wan say: “Use the Force, Luke!”; the part of Gladiator when, seemingly dead, Russell Crowe finds that last bit of energy to stab Joaquin Phoenix right in his Coliseum. It's the part where Hugh Grant dares speak to Julia Roberts in the press conference finale of Notting Hill, and in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade when Harrison Ford is given a choice to save his father (Sean Connery) by giving up everything else. It's the part in Planes, Trains and Automobiles where Steve Martin, having figured out John Candy has no wife, recalls the lonely man that has become his friend and goes back to rescue him. This is the moment of faith when, with a breathless gasp, the trapeze artist, high up in the darkness of the big top, lets go of his grip on the world, does h
is spin, and snaps out into the void hoping another will take his hands. And we watch in anticipation, for in our own way… we've been waiting, too.
5. The Execution of the New Plan – The answer comes from a place we've all hoped is real, but only the hero has faith enough to trust, and when he does, he wins… and so do we. Awakened to the true lesson of this story, the hero puts this last-ditch plan into action and it works! This is where “on the fly” the hero tries it a new way – and succeeds. Thinking fast, Humphrey Bogart's plan prevails in Casa-blanca; risking all, Dustin Hoffman grabs Katharine Ross and runs in The Graduate; going with his gut, Dev Patel answers the final question that will make him a Slumdog Millionaire. It was only by stepping into the unknown — and trusting — that the hero could find the way to triumph. This is the test. Can you give up belief in your old ways and have faith in the dark, quiet place inside? Rewards go to those who seek this moment in fiction and in life. It's the reason we tell stories and honor those who understand. This is why, when we go to the Final Image of a movie — such as the ceremony at the end of Star Wars — we feel like we won as well.
Because we did!
Believe it or not, this Five-Point Storming the Castle occurs in some form or fashion in every story! This is the “face-your-fear” part, the final test that proves the hero was paying attention — or not! And yet the risk of putting this out there is to once again hear cries of “formula!” To which I say, phooey!
The Five-Point Finale is your secret weapon for finding the true meaning of your tale. And that Dig-Deep-Down point, that “Use the Force, Luke!” beat, is what we're all looking for whether we are the writers of the story or the audience for it. Yes, this way of looking at the ending of any story also works when the hero or heroes are “Defending the Castle” as seen in the finales of Saving Private Ryan, Shaun of the Dead, and Blazing Saddles — or in “Escaping the Castle” as seen in Alien, Free Willy, and Defiance. Whether your team is on the offense or the defense, the lessons of friendship, teamwork, selflessness, and nobility are the same, and the Dig-Deep-Down moment is key. No matter what the permutation of your tale, it's the dynamic we seek, for the need of any story boils down to being touched by powers unseen.