Save the Cat Goes to the Movies

by Blake Snyder

  Break into Three: Kirsten meets Tobey. She is about to accept his offer to be together, and though he is on a new track to return to crime-fighting, she’s not giving up on him. As they’re about to kiss, Tobey sees Doc Ock hurl a car at them and saves Kirsten, then loses her as the villain grabs her to use as bait for Spider-Man. A and B stories cross, thanks to Doc Ock, as Tobey realizes his power is back. The missing component was love, and the “promise” to be with Kirsten now combines with the “promise” to be a Superhero.

  Finale: Among the great moments in this finish: Spider-Man stops an out-of-control train by “crucifying” himself (we’ve seen the exact same beat in Raging Bull, The Matrix, and Gladiator) and saving all onboard. Spent and without his mask, Tobey is brought inside and laid on the floor of the train. “It’s just a kid,” says a passenger. (Love that beat!) Tobey saves Kirsten when he convinces Doc Ock to re-embrace his humanity and not destroy the city. Kirsten now knows who Spidey is and loves Tobey even more.

  Final Image: Kirsten makes her own decision and runs from her wedding to be with Tobey, despite the danger of his being Spider-Man. By being willing to give up everything he loves, Tobey has gotten both. He has Kirsten and his mission, his life in balance. Opening and final image are opposites, the screenplay perfect.

  Is this the end of the tail? Not quite.

  AFTERWORD

  SO WHAT ABOUT GHOST?

  Whew! That’s one hell of a lot of movies!

  And it’s my bet that at some point in reading one or more of these chapters you’ve had an “A-ha!” experience.

  A-ha! Bad News Bears and Ocean’s Eleven really are the same movie!

  A-ha! The Half Man is in A LOT of Monster in the House flicks! How about that!?

  A-HA! The Dude with a Problem is a movie I thought I knew but I never saw that “eye of the storm” beat before!

  WOW!

  At which point the top of your head explodes, and your brains spill out all over Starbucks.

  At least this is my hope.

  And yet, while those fantastic coffeehouse employees we love so — Nancine, Micah, and Tifani — are mopping up the contents of your brainpan, a new thought creeps in: So what?

  This whole genre thing may be an amusing parlor trick, but what does it really have to do with the job of sitting down and cranking out your movie? And btw, what about movies that seem to blend a bunch of these story genres together?

  What about Ghost?

  Well calm down there, Starbuckeroo. Ask Nancine for a refill, sit down, and let’s kibbitz awhile. I agree it’s a lot to digest. But looking at these movies in a new way is really going to help. And the good news is that while we’re sitting here chatting — at least we’re not writing!

  First of all, welcome to the business of storytelling. No matter what level you’re at — novice, skilled practitioner, or stratosphere-scraping genius — you are aware of the never-ending battle. Each of us goes about it in a different way and yet it boils down to the same question:

  How do I write my story?

  What chunk goes where? What does the audience need to know when? Is my hero heroic enough, and if not, why not? And the bottom line of any story: What am I trying to say?

  What should be clearer after reading this book is that you are not the first to climb Mt. Everest. And yes, it is about tricks, storytelling sleight-of-hand, and tradition. And guess what else? As original as you think you are, you aren’t. Sorry! Whenever I hear someone insist that his story is original, I have to laugh. Fresh, I hope. Original?

  No such thing.

  We have already heard every story ever told. Like little kids who ask for the same tale over and over again, told exactly the same way, we too respond to hidden patterns. The elements that vibrate in us like a tuning fork — the stories that truly resonate — are based on patterns deep in our DNA. What we’re looking for as writers, and even as listeners, is an “internal balance,” a story that satisfies some pre-thinking part of the soul. And connecting to the stories we’ve told forever is key to figuring it out.

  I, and a lot of my friends, call it “breaking a story.”

  But really it’s about finding it.

  I personally love working out a story. And I love knowing that I am part of a long tradition of writers who have wrestled with the very same problems. I’m glad I know “making it fresh” has always been the job. But it really comes down to: Does the story work? And if not, what can I do to make it work?

  Not every story I have broken down in this book does! I’ve given you some creaky old movies that are way passé to us modern urbanites. I’ve reviewed a few films that are not my personal faves. What I’ve hoped to do is show how I, like everyone else in this craft, am always in the process of honing my storytelling skills. This book, if nothing else, is a method to do this in a new way.

  Now when you tell me the movie you’re working on is “a road picture,” you know it should include things that a Golden Fleece has: a “road,” a “team,” and a “prize.” And if you’re working on a love story, you know the number-one litmus test is its theme: “My life changed for having met another.” Writing a mystery? You must ask: “What’s the ’dark turn’ of my hero?” because that’s what Whydunits are about. And if you’re not sure if it’s a Dude with a Problem or a Monster in the House you’re writing, you must ask: “Is my hero an ’innocent’? Is this story about survival?” If “yes” to both questions … you know. Right?

  It’s all about getting a little better grip on what makes that tuning fork in our souls hum. And also knowing that you have a bunch of stories to study that can help!

  So what about Ghost?

  When I was in the middle of writing this book, deep in my own “My, aren’t I a genius!” megalomania, the Bruce Joel Rubin-scripted, Jerry Zucker-directed thriller came on TV. And as I watched Patrick and Demi cavorting ex corpus … suddenly my brain exploded!

  Ghost is supernatural, which implies it’s an Out of the Bottle; it’s a love story, which means that “my life changed for having met another” is certainly in play; and it’s also a mystery and a Rites of Passage, too — for God’s sake, Patrick dies and can’t go to the light until he overcomes his unfinished business on Earth! So? What kind of movie is it?

  After I simmered down, I realized two things: One, it’s a Whydunit, because solving the mystery of who killed Patrick and why — even though he is no longer operating at room temperature — is the story. Yes, it’s magical; yes, it’s a love story. But at the end of the day, it’s a “Fantasy Whydunit” — in the very same league as The Sixth Sense.

  When I figured that out, I was kind of pleased. My system worked! But the second thing I understood was that in cases where we’re not sure what type of movie it is, the bottom line is we now have a language to talk about it. Just like the bullet points of the BS2, when I say “Fun and Games” or “All Is Lost” or “Bad Guys Close In,” we know what parts of the movie we mean; and when I say “Buddy Love” or “Rites of Passage” or “Out of the Bottle,” we suddenly have an overview of story type — and a set of terms to talk about those stories in a way we understand.

  And a fun way too, if I say so myself!

  Point is: This is one more tool. Knowing story and knowing how stories are put together — and what is satisfying — is our goal as writers. Being experts on all types, even those outside our genre, helps us be better in our genre. And identifying any story, even those answering: “What did you do at work today, Dad?” as one type or another — even seeing mythic elements in a commercial for furniture wax on TV — makes us more aware of story mechanisms. Let this book be a way to do just that, a new method to deconstruct old ideas.

  So if you are trying to “stump the author” by thinking up movies that don’t fit the paradigm … stop. Won’t help you. What will help you is seeing how the gray, as yet unformed notion in your head can be fashioned into something that works for us all — and shaping it into a story that resonates is the job. Tapping i
nto the primal nature of stories and why we tell them is magic. You have it in you already, and as I say in my lectures all over the world (who knew?!), the only thing stopping the stories from getting out is you.

  So get out of the way! Let the stories bubble up from deep within, in patterns we’ve used to tell stories forever. Fact is the stories come from a higher source — that’s why they keep repeating. They’re being broadcast to us to remind us why we get up every day and hit it one more time, and we all carry the message. Stories are everywhere. Just look around Starbucks. From the primal campfire to the market square to here among the coffeeati, what resonates is truth.

  Find yours. And pass it on.

  GLOSSARY REDOX:

  EVEN MORE TERMS FROM

  THE 310 AREA CODE

  ALL STORIES ARE ABOUT TRANSFORMATION! — This is not a Hollywood term … it is our motto! It should be printed out and put on top of our computers as a reminder of why we do this job. No story is worth telling unless change occurs in the hero — or in us, the audience. The bigger the growth, the more epic the tale.

  BRANDO — The rebel found in stories of the Institutionalized kind. Named for Marlon Brando, who portrayed motorcycle tough Johnny in 1953’SThe Wild One, this is the radical who defies the system and doubts everything about the family, business, or group that has stood the test of time.

  BUTTON — A line or visual punctuation that ends a scene: an ironic comment, a joke, or a note of deep meaning. “We need a better button here” is a line we hear from execs, which means our scene ends with a whimper … not a POW!

  CASE WITHIN A CASE — In a Whydunit, usually the initial or long-buried caper that for some reason is unresolved. By pursuing another case, the detective revisits the original — and cracks both.

  CHASE TO THE AIRPORT SCENE — In any movie with a love story at its heart, invariably one lover will leave near the end, prompting a frantic “chase to the airport” to stop him or her, e.g., Woody Allen in Manhattan. This big finish is re-freekin’-quired according to every studio exec you will ever hear on the subject … so be prepared with yours!

  COMPANY MAN — In an Institutionalized story, the one who has so bought into the establishment that he has sacrificed his humanity for it, resulting in robotic side effects that often include sexual dysfunction and a general crankiness, e.g., Frank Burns and Margaret “Hot Lips” O’Houlihan in M*A*S*H.

  COMPLICATION — Typically in a romantic comedy or love story, the sabot in the machinery: the person, place, or event that stops the lovers from being together, e.g., the iceberg in Titanic, the bet in How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days, and the fact that Matthew McConaughey lives at home in Failure to Launch. Ironically, it is also the thing that keeps the lovers together — and is usually what your rom-com is “about.”

  CONFIDANT — In an Out-of-the-Bottle story, a person the hero can trust with the secret of his magic power — and sometimes the one who uses that information to harm the hero (so much for trust).

  CRAWL — The moving text at the beginning or the end of a film that explains its context, giving background to, or a time frame for, a historic or futuristic setting that we need to know to understand what will happen next. It is usually slow enough for us maroons to read — and getting slower every year!

  DOUBLE MUMBO JUMBO — In movies using “magic,” the tendency of the writers to pile it on, or use several forms of it, and unwittingly make the story feel fuzzy or confusing. The rule is: We, the audience, are allowed to suspend disbelief once in a movie. You cannot be led to believe aliens and vampires exist in one world.

  EYE OF THE STORM — In a Dude-with-a-Problem film, the break from the fast-paced, confusing, and dangerous situation our innocent hero suddenly finds his bad self in. It can be a friend or a love interest who also offer the hero a needed lesson.

  FOOL ASSUMES A NEW NAME — In Fool Triumphant, when the hero enters Act Two and takes on a new moniker, e.g., when “Michael Dorsey” becomes “Dorothy Michaels” in Tootsie. The name change usually occurs as a disguise or by accident.

  HALF MAN — In a Monster-in-the-House movie, the partial survivor who has had an interaction with the monster in his past and comes away damaged in some way because of it. This is the “false mentor” who can tell the hero — and us — the horror of what dealing with the monster will entail — and who is sure to die!

  INSIDER — In a Fool-Triumphant movie, the jealous one who realizes the “idiot” is wiser than everyone and seeks to stop him before others see this too, e.g., Salieri in Amadeus.

  KILL THE CAT — An alt ernate to having the hero do something nice — like save a cat — so that we’re on his side, is to have someone do something mean to him, e.g., when Elle Woods is dumped by her beau in the beginning of Legally Blonde.

  LEARNS TO DO IT WITHOUT THE MAGIC — Usually a beat found in any movie using “magic” that indicates a change in the hero in Act Three. Up till then the hero has been empowered — or cursed — with some form of magic spell, and now must choose not to use the magic in order to learn a lesson, e.g., in Bruce Almighty when Jim Carrey does good deeds without using any of his godly powers. But this is a general term, too, used for movies without magic. It can indicate any Act Three change where the hero “learns he had it in him all along” or “learns he already possesses the bravery or skill he needs to win.”

  LEMON SEED — The new “thing” introduced at the midpoint of a movie that indicates we are going to be heading for the finish at a faster pace — and with added pressure. Think of a slippery lemon seed between your thumb and index finger being slowly squeezed until it squirts out in the Act Three climax! It is introduced mid-movie at the “stakes are raised” point.

  MASCOT — In a Superhero tale, the loyal and very human underling who looks up to the title character but can never be him, e.g., Jimmy Olsen in Superman and Timon in The Lion King. Often used by the Nemesis to threaten the Superhero.

  NAIF — The character in an Institutionalized story that is “us,” such as Jane Fonda in 9 to 5 and Tom Hulce in Animal House, who, by being brought into the system, helps explain its rules.

  RIFF — Coming from the musical world, this term implies a sometimes improvised bit, routine, or off-the-cuff piece of “business” that springs from a particular set-up. For instance, if you set up the premise of a mom and her cop son who become partners in solving crime, I will riff on ideas such as: mom stops a mugger with her knitting needles; the two get into the “world’s slowest chase” when she and her son pursue a bad guy and she is driving; or mom thinks her son’s room has been rifled by intruders when it’s just a mess. See? Stop! Or My Mom Will Shoot was funny when it left my hands! And these riffs prove it!

  ROAD APPLE — In a Golden-Fleece movie, this is the thing that stops the team from gaining the prize. It’s the set-back, surprise backstab, or bit of new information that makes the participants think they will never win the day, e.g., when Tom Hanks and company find Private Ryan — and he refuses to go home.

  RULES — The magic in an Out-of-the-Bottle story needs these parameters, guidelines, or boundaries to keep what happens credible. State The Rules up front and stick to them!

  SET PIECE — Whenever I come up with a good movie idea, my first question, and that of a lot of movie producers who might buy it, is: “What are the set pieces?” These are the “trailer moments,” examples of the premise that demonstrate the essence of the movie.

  SIX THINGS THAT NEED FIXING — Six is an arbitrary number, but should indicate there are a bunch of defects in the hero’s life when we first meet him that will be healed during the movie. In the opening scenes of Tootsie, Dustin Hoffman as Michael Dorsey is shown as: (1) a difficult actor with (2) an uncaring agent. He is (3) insensitive to women and — not surprisingly — (4) an ineffective pick-up artist and (5) bad friend who (6) doesn’t like to hold babies. All these things will get “fixed” by donning a dress and becoming a better man for having been “Dorothy Michaels.” The journey would mean nothing if th
ese problems weren’t set up in Act One.

  TIME CLOCK — “How long do we have?” asks the captain of The Titanic upon hitting the iceberg at the midpoint of the movie. Meet the “time clock” or “ticking clock,” a way to let us know how much longer we’ve got and to put pressure on the heroes to solve, get out of, or triumph before it’s too late.

  TWO-HANDER — A movie where we follow two characters, each has an arc, and each grows because of the other, e.g., the rom-com Two Weeks Notice. THREE-HANDER — A movie where we follow three stories, each with its own arc of growth, most often a love triangle, such as in Sweet Home Alabama, Titanic, and Gone with the Wind. FOUR-HANDER — A movie where we follow four stories, most often a two-couple love story like When Harry Met Sally … as well as such darker studies as Closer and We Don’t Live Here Anymore.

  TURNING OVER CARDS — Describes any progression that reveals the plot points of a story. In a Whydunit, it’s the series of clues leading the detective to a final secret.

  TURN, TURN, TURN — This is the dictate (at least in my book) that a story not only moves forward but faster and with more energy — particularly from midpoint on (see “Lemon Seed,” page 283).

  WATCH OUT FOR THAT GLACIER! — My ironic cry of boredom while sitting through a disaster movie or revenge tale when the heroes know a showdown is looming, but which is so slow in coming (one inch a year!) that we in the audience must wait and twiddle our thumbs. Screenwriters, watch out for … this icy sensation!

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  In his 20-year career as a screenwriter, Blake has sold, optioned, or been hired to write dozens of scripts for film and TV. Best known as “one of Hollywood’s most successful spec screenwriters,” he also co-wrote Blank Check, which became a hit for Disney, and Nuclear Family for Steven Spielberg — both million-dollar deals. Blake sold his 13th spec screenplay, the horror-comedy Granny, in 2006.