Save the Cat Goes to the Movies

by Blake Snyder

  Midpoint: After the guys send Steve to a hooker (who turns out to be a man), the “Fun and Games” are over. Fed up with the guys’ idiotic plans, Steve “raises the stakes” and A and B stories cross as he asks Catherine out. The fool is now teaching the “men.”

  Bad Guys Close In: Steve’s date goes well but the “bad guy” closing in is Steve’s inability to tell Catherine he’s a virgin — and the close calls when he is almost forced to confess. After failing at using condoms, and interrupted by Catherine’s Insider daughter Marla (Kat Dennings), who hates Steve on sight, Steve and Catherine agree to have 20 dates until they are intimate. Another “bad guy” is Steve’s randy boss, Paula (Jane Lynch), who suggests he have sex with her. Despite all this pressure, Steve is rising to prominence at work, going from clerk to salesman to floor manager. He learns to drive a car from Catherine, and starts to sell his action figures on eBay. He also gets close to Kat in a great scene at Planned Parenthood where, as Kat’s surrogate father, he admits he’s a virgin. In a roomful of adults trying to be “hip” with their kids, Steve’s candor is heroic.

  All Is Lost: As Steve matures, he begins to counsel the other guys, including Romany — who now turns to the virgin for advice! But when the 20 dates are up — and Catherine suggests they finally be intimate — Steve freaks, blaming her for forcing him to sell his figurines; he also proudly defends the fact he rides a bike, even though it’s odd for a man his age.

  Dark Night of the Soul: Confused, Steve gets drunk at a party for Romany, whose girlfriend is pregnant. Romany is finally settling down. Steve meets Beth, who takes him back to her house. Beth is a real “freak,” but even drunk, Steve can’t have sex with her. In a sweet and funny scene, the guys rescue Steve — and Seth stays behind. Back home, Steve finds Catherine waiting, but still can’t tell her the truth. A and B stories cross as she storms out.

  Break into Three: A fresh “chase to the airport” as Steve races to catch Catherine via bicycle, leading to an accident when he busts through a billboard for “Eruption.” Catherine comforts Steve, who now tells her the truth: “I’m a virgin.”

  Finale: The wedding of Steve and Catherine and the rush to the hotel. “Three and a half minutes later … “the smile on Steve’s face as he lies in bed after their session of bliss is hilarious.

  Final Image: Singing “Aquarius,” the cast celebrates sex.

  The age-old dilemma of “Institutionalized” stories — them or me? — is seen in the brilliant Office Space, as desk huggers at Initech (like Stephen Root as Milton) wonder if hanging on to their jobs is worth selling their souls.

  You are a caveman. And with your fellow Neanderthals, you are about to join in a great tradition: the Woolly Mammoth hunt! This will involve weeks of tribal ceremonies — including a pre-hunt ritual in which a “virgin” (the girl who won’t sleep with the chief) is sacrificed to the gods, and a stalking technique used for generations that guarantees a third of the hunters will die. To not go along with your fellow meat-eaters is akin to betrayal, yet as you reach for your spear there’s an uneasy feeling in your stomach and a nagging thought:

  What about a nice salad?

  If any of this strikes a chord at the core of your DNA, you likely identify with stories marked “Institutionalized.” That same feeling in the center of our gut is one we now experience sitting in our cubicles at work, lining up in a row at Army boot camp, or joining a bunch of friends who have a new weight-loss product they’re selling. The difference between a “family” we can count on and a “cult” is not always clear, and the pros and cons of being one of the gang our eternal debate. Though we know the perils of going it alone, that queasy intestinal twinge is often a saving grace; it’s what separates us from the others — and might even save them, too! While this story is a product of the post-Enlightenment age in which being an “individual” is an accepted right, the feeling is one we’ve had for all of time.

  One reason I like this story type is that, as a creative person, it is my daily dilemma. We writers are the ones who tell the king he has no clothes, and often the only ones with either so much insight — or nothing to lose — we can dub the group “wrong.” The name I’ve given this genre has added meaning as it touches on a key question we ask when opposing an establishment:

  Who’s crazier — them or me?

  Wherever a group gathers, a business booms, or a family reunites, you’ll find this conundrum. To join or not join, to stay with the rest or do it our way, this is the Institutionalized story. And it must be important, because there are so many examples!

  We see the “Military Institution” in Gallipoli, Full Metal Jacket, M*A*S*H, and the best, Jean Renoir’s The Grand Illusion. We also have the “Business Institution” tale of which 9 to 5, Office Space, and Paddy Chayefsky’s Network are a part. There is the “Family Institution,” typified by movies like Goodfellas and The Royal Tenenbaums, and the “Issue Institution,” where an ensemble cast deals with a specific theme (Crash, Babel, Short Cuts). And because one’s indoctrination into the “machine” is such a common tale, the “Mentor Institution” story includes Wall Street, The Devil Wears Prada, and a John Lithgow TV-movie, Traveling Man, a pip about a mentor-mentee battle between two salesmen.

  The rules of this story are constants, so if you rigidly adhere to my doctrine you’ll see how all sagas of the “I” kind have: (1) a “group,” (2) a “choice,” and (3) a “sacrifice.”

  There’s also a moral to most of these: Look before you join!

  The number one indicator of an Institutionalized tale is: It’s about the many. Anytime words like “ensemble,” “group,” or “multiple stories” show up on your yellow pad, you know what genre you’re in. Often these concern work situations or closed societies with their own rules, ethics, and bonds of loyalty. I love learning about unique jobs, and movies like Pushing Tin (about air traffic controllers), Tin Men (about aluminum-siding salesmen), and Boogie Nights (about ’70s-era adult film stars) give us an up-close look at the inner workings of these occupations.

  There are a variety of characters that appear in tales of the “I” kind. One is the Brando, who stands opposed to the system by his very nature and reveals its flaws. Named for Marlon Brando in The Wild One (who, when asked what he is rebelling against, says: “Whaddya got?”), anti-heroes like Donald Sutherland in M*A*S*H, Jack Nicholson in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, and Kevin Spacey in American Beauty exist solely to reveal the system’s flaws. In many an “I” tale there is also a Na’if who may be the hero — eventually! He is the character the audience identifies with most — he’s us — for we know nothing of the rules, like Jane Fonda in 9 to 5, Tom Hulce in Animal House, and even Al Pacino in The Godfather, who is on the fringes and still a “virgin” until he is drawn into the group.

  The “choice” for either or both these characters is the ongoing dramatic conflict in these tales. “Will he stick with the group or quit?” we ask of “Naif Ray Liotta in Goodfellas, as the pros and cons of being “one of the guys” are shown to us. Through Ray, we must ask if we would be able to join in the tribal ceremonies that accompany his rise in the family — from “busting his cherry,” when Ray is first arrested as a teen, to the dangers of going against the boss by running drugs, to the ultimate act of either betrayal or sanity (depending on your point of view) when Ray decides to turn state’s evidence and rat out the men who were his brothers. Many times as the story progresses, the choice becomes harder, more difficult to understand, and the rules of the group — especially in regard to loyalty — more difficult to adhere to. The ongoing “choice” tells us what we know about groups: Either the rules are crazy, or we are for questioning them!

  Another “I” character is the Company Man, an automaton entrenched in the system. Oddly, many of these characters suffer from sexual dysfunction … and insanity: Robert Duvall in M*A*S*H, Denzel Washington in Training Day, Humphrey Bogart in The Caine Mutiny, Jack Nicholson in A Few Good Men, and Louise Fletcher in One Flew Over the Cuc
koo’s Nest, display conformity that is sterility.

  Finally, a decision must be made in an Institutionalized story, and it always comes down to: them or me? This is the “sacrifice,” the act of surrendering our individuality to the group or destroying the institution when it proves to be less than advertised. You can see the result pretty clearly in the ending of Goodfellas — and even in comedies like Animal House with its final “Eat Me!” conflagration at the parade, or the inferno that ends Office Space literally burning down corporate headquarters! Often it is the sacrifice of the individual that is the finale of many such tales, and the cautionary end point to what we know about joining. Look at the endings of Godfather 2, American Beauty, and One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, as these heroes’ almost identical blank expressions tell us that their “sacrifice” has been … suicide.

  The real lesson, and what these tales teach, is the peril of not paying attention to that voice inside. Like all good stories, this genre offers a deeper message: Our orders come from a higher source! Not tradition, not our parents, not the caveman in charge of the group. We who listen to our inner spirit are propelled by a power that can overcome all.

  Tales of the many, of group dynamics, and stories about trusting the system — or overthrowing it — are some of the most primal ones we tell. Whenever a writer pitches me a story about a group, I always ask: “What would you do in this circumstance?” How long can you, the individual, believe in or trust others to have your best interests at heart?

  If we look at our own experience, we can see how often in life the individual gets thrown overboard. These stories are our way of fighting back, and giving those who believe in the rights of the one as much as the rights of the many, a template for action. If you have a story that defies the rules, write it! Even if the rules you defy are found in this very book! “All screenwriters are bullheads,” said a famous author we all know and love.

  And aren’t we glad they are!

  DOES YOUR STORY NEED TO BE INSTITUTIONALIZED;

  Are you convinced of your loyalty to the tenets of this cautionary tale? Then join us by knowing all its dictates:

  Every story in this category is about a “group” — a family, an organization, or a business that is unique.

  The story is a “choice,” the ongoing conflict pitting a “Brando” or a “Naif” vs. the system’s “Company Man.”

  Finally, a “sacrifice” must be made, leading to one of three endings: Join, burn it down … or commit “suicide.”

  If you want to write anything about the many, take a look at these tales of the “I” kind.

  M*A*S*H (1970)

  The good news is: You win the Oscar® for Best Screenplay. The bad news is: The movie your script is based on so veers from what you wrote, it is unrecognizable. Sound impossible? Nope. It’s what happened to Ring Lardner, Jr. for M*A*S*H. And yet in the hands of director Robert Altman, who hijacked both Lardner’s script and the production of the film, a work of genius — not to mention a huge TV franchise — was born.

  For our purposes, it is a great example of the “Military Institution” tale about “regular Army clowns” trying to quash the individual. At first, finding its structure seems a fool’s errand. Altman’s improv style and the episodic nature of his films so go against the rules of structure, they seem not to have any!

  But look again.

  Altman uses the same storytelling tools we all do, and the familiar landmarks of Midpoint, Break into Two and Three, and Finale are here — just deconstructed as a jazz musician might a popular tune. Held together by the camp’s PA announcements (a device Altman found in editing), the film is the story of a MASH-unit surgeon, Donald Sutherland, who challenges a series of “Company Men” such as Robert Duvall and Sally Kellerman. The former is sent to the loony bin, the latter brought over to “our” side in perfect Act Three Synthesis.

  I Type: Military Institution

  I Cousins: Breaker Morant, Gallipoli, Paths of Glory, Platoon, A Few Good Men, Taps, The Caine Mutiny, Top Gun, Full Metal Jacket, We Were Soldiers

  M*A*S*H

  Screenplay by Ring Lardner, Jr. From the novel by Richard Hooker

  Opening Image: The movie’s theme song, “Suicide Is Painless,” is heard as a military helicopter, with a wounded soldier strapped to a stretcher alongside, floats through the air. It lands at a war zone hospital that will be our setting. “Suicide” is the decision of those who surrender by choosing “the group.”

  Theme Stated: Meet Hawkeye Pierce (Donald Southerland). Waiting for a ride to a MASH (Mobile Army Surgical Hospital) unit, he’s told by an official: “Just because you’re a captain, don’t think you run the joint.” Who runs the joint? That’s our theme. Hawkeye’s iconoclast whistle tells us he’s like his namesake, hero of James Fenimore Cooper’s The Deerslayer.

  Set-Up: “And then there was Korea …” To a war movie march, a crawl sets up the fact it’s the Korean War, a tipping point in America’s response to war generally. In charge of the MASH unit, Colonel Blake (Roger Bowen) and Radar (Gary Burghoff) wait for the new doctor, not realizing the “enlisted man” in their Mess Tent is Donald, who has removed his Captain’s bars. At Minute 7, he meets Duke (Tom Skerritt), a fellow surgeon, and makes a beeline for the nurses. Everything is Army: silverware, regulations, even sex play is all according to rules. But not for long.

  Catalyst: At Minute 12, Donald and Tom are ushered to their quarters and meet Major Frank Burns (Robert Duvall), teaching a Korean boy to read the Bible. In any other movie, this character would be applauded, but being a typical Brando, Donald suspects Robert from the jump. At Minute 17, Donald requests a roommate change and a new doctor: “We need a chest cutter.” He is promised Robert will be out of “his” tent in 24 hours.

  Debate: Will Donald get his way? And will the MASH get a better surgeon? It’s the Army after all, and the conditions are hellish.

  Break into Two: At Minute 20, Donald is pulled from a married nurse to meet his new roommate and fellow surgeon. “Trapper” John McIntyre (Elliott Gould) doesn’t speak — until Donald offers him a martini and Elliott whips out his own jar of olives! A match made in heaven. At Minute 25, Donald finally recognizes Elliott. They have a shared past as both played football in college (a foreshadowing of the film’s finale) and now have a shared future as well — and plans to get rid of incompetent doctors like Robert.

  B Story: At Minute 27, Major Margaret O’Houlihan (Sally Kellerman) arrives. She is “regular Army” and immediately hates Donald and he her. It is their battle through which we will discuss the theme. Sally will have the biggest arc and be the way we chart how Donald is doing in his quest to de-Army the Army.

  Fun and Games (Part I): In a movie with mostly trailer moments, this first batch begins as camp cut-ups Donald and Elliott grab martinis and nurses in an effort to stave off the inhumanity of their blood-spurting surgical sessions. When Robert makes a kid (that’s Bud Cort!) think he killed a patient, Elliott decks the talentless doctor. At Minute 37, Elliott is elected Chief Surgeon, and at Minute 38, Sally and Robert write a complaint letter. Now the two camps are formed … and one draws closer as Robert and Sally negotiate sex. During this session, “Hot Lips” is born when a PA microphone catches the couple in the throes of passion. Next day, by egging on the Bible-thumping doctor, Donald causes Robert to go nuts and get hauled away in a strait jacket.

  Midpoint: With Robert banished, a new problem arises … or doesn’t. The camp dentist has sex trouble when he fails to perform. Thinking he’s homosexual, a badge of shame in 1952, “Painless” (John Schuck) decides to kill himself. Assisted by the gang, complete with a match shot of “The Last Supper,” he is cured in a “false victory” over death when he sleeps with a departing nurse at 1 Hour 5 Minutes.

  Bad Guys Close In: Now in charge, the boys expand their good deeds and face more criticism. They operate on a prisoner of war and take blood from a sleeping Colonel Blake. And in a B Story “false victory,” they strip Hot Lips of her la
st bit of dignity when they expose Sally in the showers. “This is an insane asylum!” she yells. Later in Fun and Games (Part 2), Donald and Elliott go to Tokyo and take their golf clubs, intent on getting in some R&R between operations. Joking they are the “Pros from Dover,” they best another Army “clown” — an officer who doesn’t think their act is funny — to save a US soldier’s illegitimate baby.

  All Is Lost: Returning from Tokyo, the boys find Tom and Sally together — she’s coming around. But in a false “All Is Lost,” news comes that a higher-up is visiting in response to Sally’s complaint letter. In another movie, this would signal the potential “death” of Donald’s anti-military run.

  Break into Three: Instead, at 1 Hour 33 Minutes, the General challenges the MASH to a football game. As Sally organizes the nurses into cheerleaders, A and B stories cross, and Donald concocts a plan: They will get a “ringer.”

  Finale: There is no reason why this football game finale should or can work, but it does. Somehow, the MASH unit’s anti-establishment team vs. the General’s Patton-style team finalizes the conflict brewing all along. The MASH squad, with a “Booster Rocket” (Fred Williamson as “Spearchucker” Jones), represents the underdogs — and when they win, as Sally cheers, we win. All celebrate back in camp.