by Paolo Braga
that I’m here to help you in any
way I can?
KAFFEE
Of course.
His reiteration of how he is there to help is quite excessive. Kaffee doesn’t understand what Jessep is getting at.
JESSEP
Corporal will take you by personnel
on your way out to the flight line
and you can have all the transfer
orders that you want.
← 50 | 51 → Kaffee feels assured. He can go now. Jessep, however, stops him. He has him in his sights and is about to pull the trigger:
JESSEP
But you have to ask me nicely.
KAFFEE
I beg your pardon?
The colonel shoots with the intention of hurting him:
JESSEP
You have to ask me nicely… You
see, Danny, I can deal with the
bullets and the bombs and the
blood. I don’t want money, and I
don’t want medals. What I do want
is for you to stand there in that
faggoty white uniform and with your
Harvard mouth and extend me some
fucking courtesy.
(a beat)
You gotta ask me nicely.
A pause increases the tension even more. Then:
KAFFEE
Colonel Jessup, if it’s not too
much trouble, I’d like a copy of
the transfer order, sir.
JESSEP
No problem.
The question of conflict (the transfer order) becomes a question of form (ask nicely), which is then placed on the person speaking.
The plot twist with which Jessep establishes which of them must obey the other does not come across harsh simply because his words are ← 51 | 52 → cruel, but because his humiliating words implicitly touch upon Kaffee’s weakest spot, and Jessep knows it. In the film, the dialogue between the two in the previous scene has made the colonel aware that young Kaffee is the son of a famous lawyer, a superb lawyer who he is always being compared to. Given this, Jessep’s childish reprimand deals a blow to the unresolved essence of his personality ‒ his relationship with his father. And this blow comes from a negative and inhibiting character of authority which is somewhat of a father figure.
What’s more, until now, Jessep used a coarse, but friendly tone towards Kaffee. The attack now reveals that Jessep’s camaraderie was all a farce; from the very beginning, he never once thought anything good about Kaffee and this now makes his humiliation even worse. This element of unease – the annoying discovery of having been viewed negatively from the beginning of the conversation – is common when a scene ends with a sudden backlash35.
Given their frequency, the audience is quite familiar with scenes in which the vertical climax comes to life after tension has diminished. For this reason, when conflict seems to be dying down and the scene leans towards a horizontal end, the audience expects something else to happen.
A good screenwriter can use this expectation to create a surprise ‒ sudden backlash. This is what Christopher McQuarrie and Nathan Alexander do in this last example from Valkyrie, directed by Bryan Singer (USA/Germany 2008).
THE SCENE. Colonel Stauffenberg (Tom Cruise), a penitent Nazi who lost one eye and a hand in combat under the command of Hitler, is now organizing an attack to kill Der Führer. In order to carry out his plan, Stauffenberg bypasses the authority of General Fromm (Tom Wilkinson) by giving orders that made the unknowing general suspicious in the eyes of the higher ranks, despite the fact the general wasn’t originally against the plan. When Fromm finds out, he is furious. ← 52 | 53 → He summons Stauffenberg and his accomplice, General Olbricht (Bill Nighy) to his office where he chastises them with all his rage. Fromm pretends, or rather, orders the two to abandon their precarious plan (“If I so much as sense you’re trying to move the reserve army again, I will personally have you both arrested. Do I make myself abundantly clear?”).
With that, Fromm dismisses Stauffenberg by raising his right hand with a decisive “Heil Hitler” salute. Tension fades and the scene seems to be coming to an end.
The conflict, however, is destined to be revived…
SUDDEN BACKLASH. This is exactly what the audience is expecting, however, because Stauffenberg, who has stood and is making his way to the door, never responded to the General’s Nazi salute, only Olbricht did. Thus, just before the two reach the door to leave:
FROMM
I’ll hear you say it, Colonel.
REVERSAL. Stauffenberg turns and snaps to attention and says loud and clear:
STAUFFENBERG
Heil Hitler!
Yet, surprisingly, the salute is a strained and openly defiant tribute to Hitler. Stauffenberg’s stretched out arm exposes his disfigurement. An arm with no hand, thrown into the face of his superior by his superior’s own request perfectly shows the contempt this rebellious officer feels for Hitler. Thus, this crazed officer is forced to face the other man’s painful sacrifice. The power of the image brings the sense of the words to the fore – an insult towards the supreme leader that cannot be allowed.
← 53 | 54 →
The counterattack
Bruce Wayne (Christian Bale), the millionaire hidden inside the Batman costume, has entrusted the reins of his family’s holding to Mr. Fox (Morgan Freeman), inventor of the superhero’s sci-fi equipment. For this reason, in a scene from the The Dark Knight, directed by Christopher Nolan, also co-author of the screenplay with his brother Jonathan (USA 2008), Fox must receive Mr. Reese, a young know-it-all auditor, and deal with an unexpected blackmail attempt. Among the holding’s documents, Reese has discovered the plans for an automobile that is very similar to the Batmobile. He finds plans for other incredible contraptions as well. He now thinks he knows who Batman really is and wants to make a profit off it.
FOX
What can I do for you, Mr. Reese?
REESE
You wanted me to do the diligence
on the LSI Holdings deal again…
Well, I found some irregularities.
FOX
Their CEO is in police custody…
REESE
No, not with their numbers: with
yours… “Applied Sciences”. A whole
division of Wayne Enterprises just
disappeared overnight. I went down to
the archives and I started
pulling some old files. Don’t tell
me you didn’t recognize your baby
out there pancaking cop cars on
the evening news. Now, you got the
entire R & D Department burning
through cash… claiming it’s related
← 54 | 55 → to cell phones for the Army? What
are you building for him now, a
rocket ship? I want ten million
dollars a year for the rest of my
life.
Fox doesn’t lose his composure:
FOX
Let me get this straight: you
think that your client, one of the
wealthiest, most powerful men in
the world, is secretly a vigilante
who spends his nights beating criminals
to a pulp with his bare hands
and your plan is to blackmail this
person?
(a beat)
Good luck.
Reese looks discomfited. He’s been left empty-handed.
A screenwriter is trained at putting his protagonist in a corner and making him come out with unexpected proof of skill, the skill with which Mr. Fox checkmates his opponent when Reese flatters himself that he is master of the situation. The spectacular nature of film requires a screenwriter to have a particular approach, a trained talent for writing these types of scenes – scenes conceived for the protagonist to create a counterattack. The hero stands on the edge of a cliff, surrounded by enemies and… leaps to bail himself out of
the situation – a card a professional screenwriter knows how to play to keep the action moving along and to wind up the audience36.
When the edge of the cliff and the antagonist’s sting take on the form of a dialogue, and, consequently, when the “leap of death” must be an argumentative proof of skill, the screenwriter’s most effective ← 55 | 56 → solution becomes reframing. The protagonist unexpectedly introduces a new frame37, or rather, a new point of view – a rational perspective that has not been considered thus far in the confrontation, in which the weaknesses of both the antagonist’s reasoning and his values are suddenly highlighted. Thus, the antagonist’s weaknesses become the protagonist’s strengths and the antagonist’s own logic or strong points, suddenly become his weakness. A reassuring light is cast over the protagonist’s ominous shadow and darkness falls over the spot the antagonist had seen light38.
← 56 | 57 → It is precisely the case of the confrontation between Reese and Fox considered above: the conceptual frame found in the first part of the dialogue is reframed, substituted with a different one. At the beginning of the scene Reese is so proud that he sees Bruce Wayne only as the vulnerable victim of his blackmail, having forgotten who Bruce is, and who Batman is. Two “details” that make a great difference. Fox reminds Reese of them, forcing him to see his client no more as a victim, but as dangerous revenger. The blackmail suddenly appears to be a bad deal.
The edge of the cliff and the leap of death. Dialogue constructed on the changing of frames works like a spring that has been pressed down and is then sprung. Line after line, the weight of complication for the protagonist increases until the comeback frame is “sprung” and the hero, who has just slid all the way down to the edge of the cliff, is momentarily pushed back up to the top. His counterattack comes just when the antagonist was about to end the confrontation, and ends up winning the game.
These type of dialogue tends to be divided up into two phases. First, it creates the conditions for the counterattack, focusing both the speaker’s and, consequently, the audience’s attention on a circumscribed point of contention. A disadvantageous frame is progressively emphasized, till the protagonist is trapped in a corner. Then the protagonist makes his comeback by introducing an important element that was hidden away from everyone’s attention. Emphasis is now placed on a new frame the situation is compatible with.
There are three different types of counterattacks aimed at reframing. First, there could be a hole in the antagonist’s reasoning. Second, conflict could be moved inside a more expansive narrative context that the audience is aware of, but which still hasn’t been definitely brought to the fore. Third, a key piece of news could arrive, that the audience is only made aware of when the protagonist needs it to get himself out of the tight spot he is in.
The following are three examples that represent each of these three types of turning points. Each one has been taken from one of Aaron Sorkin’s screenplays. Sorkin is considered a master of film dialogue, specialized in writing about brilliant and competitive characters. Sorkin is famous for his dialectic counterattacks.
← 57 | 58 → The first example is, once again, from the film A Few Good Men.
THE SCENE. Naval attorney Kaffee (Cruise) defends two marines accused of having involuntarily killed Santiago, a fellow soldier, while they were “giving him a lesson” to strengthen his character. During the trial, they are called as witnesses and must answer Kaffee’s questions. The soldier has just answered that a punishment of this type ‒ referred to as a “code red” in military jargon – is typical under Jessep’s command at the base.
The public prosecution – lawyer Ross (Kevin Bacon) – now cross-questions. His objective is to upset them, to convince the jury that there is no rule in the marines that justifies the acts of a code red, no rule that could compel a soldier to carry out orders for a code red from a superior. Ross wants to affirm the idea that the defendants acted on their own free will and are thus the only ones guilty, that Colonel Jessep had nothing to do with the matter.
TRAPPED IN A CORNER. The persecution lawyer paces back and forth from his own spot at the trial and the witness’. Each time he picks up a different military manual and holds it up to the witness. It’s all quite theatrical. Ross seems to achieve his desired effect:
ROSS
Corporal Barnes, I hold here
the Marine Outline for Recruit
Training. Are you familiar with
this book? Have you read it? Would
you turn to the chapter that deals
with Code Reds, please?
And again…
ROSS
Standard Operating Procedure, Rifle
Security Company, Guantanamo Bay,
Cuba. I assume we’ll find the term
Code Red and its definition in that
book.
← 58 | 59 → Each time he is questioned, the witness confirms the expected ‒ there is no page in any of the handbooks that justifies the “re-education practice” of lower-skilled soldiers. The prosecution is at an advantage. A code red is not written about in any of the handbooks. A code red does not exist as a rule (at least in the eyes of the superiors, who thus cannot be held responsible in anyway), therefore the behavior of the defendants is not justified.
Ross has no further questions. He turns to go back to his seat, still holding onto the handbook he demonstrated to the witness. At this point, Kaffee’s defense is stuck between a rock and a hard place.
THE COUNTERATTACK. To get out of this difficult position, Kaffee makes an effective move. Before Ross has a chance to sit down, Kaffee snatches the training handbook from his hands and hands it back to the witness, just like the antagonist had done seconds before. He asks…
KAFFEE
Corporal, would you turn to the
page in this book that says where
the mess hall is, please?
Once again, the witness is forced to respond with what is obvious. There is nothing in the handbook about where the mess hall is. Yet, Kaffee easily points out that every marine in Guantanamo certainly eats… knows where to get his food… because… every soldier follows the others when it’s time to eat. It’s a regulation that is enforced even though it has never been written in black and white.
The stark obviousness of this element shoots a hole in the prosecution’s reasoning – from everything contained within the conceptual perimeter of the premise (in a highly controlled organization like the marines, nothing can be true unless it has been written in black and white), to what falls outside that same perimeter (not everything can be written, thus even what is not written can be true). The jury thus understands that even a code red may be a normal practice, even if not an official one. Ross smiles to himself in his seat. Kaffee has shown great skill.
← 59 | 60 → Given Kaffee’s move, the point of view that had just been trapped inside the frame laid out by the prosecution is now cast outside the frame. The frame has been reversed. The conceptual frame of the discussion (the value action regulated by a norm) becomes interesting not because of what it contains, but for what it has excluded (what is not regulated in official terms because it is superfluous, like the mess hall, because it is inexpressible, like a code red), without undermining its validity39.
The second example of a “slingshot” dialogue – the slingshot is pulled back as dramatic pressure is put on the protagonist; the slingshot is slung with his comeback in the second part of the confrontation – is found in The Social Network (directed by David Fincher, USA 2010). Unlike the previous example, the turning point for the main character, the young inventor of Facebook, is not a logical-conceptual idea, but an arrogant clarification of relations of power among two parties wrought with conflict.
THE SCENE. Twenty-two year old billionaire Mark Zuckerberg (Jesse Eisenberg) has been accused of stealing his idea for Facebook from his university friends, whose lawyer is now interrogating him. The young man has dealt with the whole interrogation with his usual conceited
attitude. The other former Harvard students are also present during the interrogation, where they claim to be the real inventors of the social network.
TRAPPED IN A CORNER. The lawyer asks Zuckerberg a question about a series of compromising emails. The lawyer seems to have hit on something important. The series of messages seem to prove that Zuckerberg, while pretending to work together with the former students on their idea, he inappropriately took possession of the idea and, unbeknownst to them, had already begun creating the network on his own.
It’s an important moment. Zuckerberg’s reaction seems to confirm the lawyer’s accusation. He doesn’t answer the question. His stops speaking in his usual annoyed and sarcastic tone. He turns towards the window, seemingly lost in his thoughts:
← 60 | 61 → MARK
(to himself)
It’s raining.
LAWYER
I’m sorry?
MARK
It just started raining.
LAWYER
Mr. Zuckerberg, do I have your full
attention?
MARK
(a beat)
No.
LAWYER
Do you think I deserve it?
The lawyer asks for his full attention as if he were a professor addressing a rebellious student who, refusing to admit the obvious (that he is wrong), has escaped in his own thoughts. With this frame, the audience is forced to view the young man in a different light. Not as a billionaire, not as a computer genius, but as a bitter, hard-nosed young man with nothing to discuss.
THE COUNTERATTACK. Zuckerberg, however, reacts with highhandedness. He turns towards the lawyer and upholds a different frame, a different point of view. The view in which he sees himself…
MARK
What?
LAWYER
Do you think I deserve your full
attention?
← 61 | 62 → MARK
I had to swear an oath before we
began this deposition and I don’t
wanna perjure myself, so I have a
legal obligation to say no.
LAWYER
Okay. No. You don’t think I deserve
your attention?
MARK
(disdainful)
I think if your clients wanna sit