8-Part Story Structure: Eighth Sequence
Sequence 8: Riding Off Into the Sunset
So, the story has reached its end. Every little thing that should happen, has happened, and hopefully we’ve resolved all, or at least most, of the questions surrounding the particular tale that we’re telling. No, we don’t have to know every little detail about every single person that we’ve mentioned in the story, but the story should feel complete at this point.
So what’s the point of the eighth sequence, then?
The eighth sequence shows the protagonist(s) in a restful state, again in homeostasis, with no immediate, pressing concerns. The hero has survived the adventure, and so he has a chance to rest. Though it has definitely become a cliché, this is the time where the heroes ride off into the sunset, their current story done, headed off to seek a new journey. Usually it’s a time of peace, of contemplation, of catharsis, and often a little humor.
This is usually the shortest sequence in any film, (the half-hour ending of Lord of the Rings: Return of the King is a notable exception), and has the sole purpose of placing the protagonist into their new state of being. It shows the audience what the new “normal” is for the protagonist, but ends before a new journey starts. Often, though, there is the promise of more, but the audience is meant to feel that all is right again in the world.
Now, because the sequence is so short, I’ve decided that it would be more beneficial to, instead of detailing a single film, to briefly explain the eighth sequence of the seven films that we’ve explained throughout the other seven sequences, so that the blurred line between the seventh and eighth sequences may be made more clear. And just to reiterate this again, these are all very short, and obviously, contain the end of each movie.
Raiders of the Lost Ark – Indy is angry, on the steps of the Capitol Building, because the government authorities don’t want to listen to his pleas for the Ark’s study, yet Marion comforts him as they walk away. We then watch an inauspicious worker push the Ark of the Covenant into the bowels of an endless warehouse, seemingly leaving the mystical Ark to rot in storage for eternity. This ending leaves the audience feeling that now Indy and Marion are together, and that the journey of the Ark, (at least as far as Indy is concerned), is at an end. It also has the bonus of showing that, once again, Indy is going home empty-handed, which was how he started out the movie in the first place.
Paycheck – After all is said and done, Jennings, Rachel, and Shorty end up together in Rachel’s apartment, talking about the adventure. In the final twist, Jennings realizes that he would have known that Rachel would have kept her birds with her. The final piece of the puzzle fits when he reads, “If you only look where you can’t go, you might just miss the riches below.” He looks underneath the bottom of the birdcage, and pulls out a winning lottery ticket, eliminating their worry about their future. This shows that Jennings really had planned out everything, and though Shorty and the other two start playfully bickering about who gets what amount, there is no real worry, at least in the audience’s mind, that everything will work out all right for everyone involved. It would have been fine if there had been no lotto ticket, but it adds a final little grin for the audience as a final bookend.
Alladin – After Alladin wishes for the Genie’s freedom, and the Sultan allows Jasmine to choose her own suitor, the eighth sequence begins. The Genie makes a wide sweeping number of comic references, there’s a big “group hug”, and then Alladin and Jasmine fly off into the moonlight. (And then, the moon turns out to be the Genie, just as a last poke of humor.) Again, this is a testament to how short the eighth sequence really is. We are simply left to assume that everyone, (except for Jafar and Iago), are left to live happily ever after. The Genie is free, the “lovebirds” end up together, and all is well in the world.
Who Framed Roger Rabbit? – Soon after Eddie hands over the rope to Lt. Santino, the stain on his shirt reappears. Roger reveals that it was disappearing/reappearing ink. But it’s that clue that makes Eddie realize where Acme’s will has been all along, and Roger reads it aloud. As soon as the will is read, we begin sequence eight. The two couples, Eddie and Dolores, Roger and Jessica, both walk off into the unknown, with peace having been restored, and Eddie finally having allowed happiness back into his life. (As the Roger kiss illustrates.) The toons also have been saved, and so they celebrate. The effect is, again, very quick, and very simple. There’s really nothing left but a last little joke from Porky Pig as he exclaims, “That’s All, Folks!”
The Dark Knight – This one is a little tricky, but still recognizable. The eighth sequence begins when Batman says to Gordon, “I can do those things.” He willingly sacrifices himself yet again, to save Gotham, and to preserve Harvey’s reputation. At that point, the story of the Dark Knight is finished, and we get a small montage and Gordon’s ironic voice-over as Batman “rides off into the sunset.” Though the ending is not exactly “happy”, we understand that this is what must be done, and we understand what Batman’s mission from here on will entail. Batman’s new “normal” is established, and so the story ends.
While You Were Sleeping – This may be one of the shortest on the list, because it begins as soon as Lucy begins her ending voice-over. You watch as Lucy and Jack ride, (yet again), off into the distance, this time on the back of Lucy’s commuter train, with the sign “Just Married” above them. It’s a very iconic, happily ever after ending, and we see that Lucy is going to be just fine.
The Sixth Sense – This is a very interesting “split-eighth.” Because there are two very separate main characters, we have two sevenths, and two eighths. The first eighth involves Cole and his mother, as she finally is able to accept that Cole is not crazy, but instead is actually helping people, albeit dead ones. For Malcolm, the eighth sequence begins as we transfer attention to his old wedding video. Because he has, in essence, “released” his wife from care, we are offered hope at a new beginning for her, as represented by the beginning of the couple’s life together as recorded on tape.
As you can see, there are a number of different ways to accomplish the eighth sequence, and every film has its own quirks, all depending on the story involved. What is important to note, however, is that the eighth sequence doesn’t have to be long. It doesn’t have to be complicated. In fact, it’s very simple, and often involves just a few moments for the audience to be “at peace” with the story that they’ve just been told.
But a recommendation just from me – It’s the last thing that people are going to see, so I would do my best to make it memorable.
Summary
- Used to invoke catharsis, peace, understanding, and oft-times, humor at the end of the story.
- Often the shortest sequence of the film.
- Quite often involves some variation of “riding off into the sunset.”
8-Part Story Structure: Seventh Sequence
Sequence 7: You Live With the Consequences
If you were to imagine story structure as a mountain, and the protagonist as the climber who must conquer it, then the seventh sequence would be that part of the journey just after cresting the peak. The final climax has been brought to its end, and we often see a few moments of calm. The protagonist has conquered the antagonist, and the final choice has been made. The internal struggle, and the external one have, for the most part, been resolved. Now, we see what that choice has brought about.
Often times, the seventh and eighth sequences are some of the shortest, encompassing very little of a film’s viewing time. The purpose of the seventh sequence is simply to show what the consequences of that final action were, and then to tie up whatever loose ends may still be floating about. The sense of urgency that is present in the sixth sequence is virtually gone, replaced instead with an often distinct lack of tension. This is why the seventh sequence can often be encapsulated in a montage, or even a brief conversation.
The only exception comes during a “twist” ending, which is created when the writer reveals that, in the mist at the top of the mountain, there is, in fact, one more hill yet to climb. A twist ending’s structure is accomplished in a fashion similar to the fifth and sixth sequences, often mirroring the original storyline’s conflict, but in a different way.
The key to creating a successful twist is that this final part of the story must be necessary. It must be crucial to the story, to the point that, if it was missing, the audience would feel like there is definitely something else that should be there. Certain storytellers are masters of this type of the craft, and so we’ll look at the M. Night Shyamalan classic, The Sixth Sense.
In the film, we follow the story of child psychologist Malcom Crowe, whose life is altered drastically by an ex-patient who confronts the doctor, shooting Crowe in the stomach and then killing himself. Some time later, Crowe takes on the case of Cole Sear, a nine-year old boy who sees the spirits of dead people who are not aware that they are deceased. In this case, Crowe seeks redemption for his perceived “failure” with his ex-patient, and looks to help this boy with his malady.
As the story continues, however, Crowe slowly begins to believe the boy, spending more and more time with Cole in order to better understand this unbelievable phenomenon. The time spent away from his wife, however, seems to be putting a definite strain on their relationship, as is evidenced by the depressing, almost heartbreaking scenes where Malcolm eventually just leaves her alone.
But in spending time with the boy, Malcolm and Cole discover that there may, in fact, be a purpose for Cole to fulfill. Perhaps there is a reason that this boy can see the spirits of the dead. Each of the “dead people” that Cole is visited by seems to have some amount of unfinished business that needs to be resolved, culminating in a visit to the funeral reception of a young girl.
Though Cole and Malcolm definitely do not belong, Cole walks right into the late girl’s room. The girl appears, and offers Cole a box, in which the boy finds a videotape. He walks quietly into the main room, and hands the tape to the girl’s father. The man puts the tape on. The tape is from a hidden camera, which shows the dead girl’s mother pouring Pine Sol into the sick girl’s food, keeping her sick, and fatally poisoning her after too much exposure to the chemicals, which resolves the death of the girl, and allows her to move on.
Cole finally confesses the truth of the situation to his mother, convincing her with personal details about her relationship to her own mother, and allowing him to come to grips with his own lot in life. The boy then offers some advice to Malcolm, suggesting to the psychologist that he try speaking to his wife while she is asleep.
And now comes the twist: During this brief conversation, Malcolm finally realizes that he is, in fact, no longer living. The gunshot wound that his ex-patient had inflicted was unknowingly fatal, and it wasn’t Cole who sought out Malcolm, but instead it was the doctor who, unwittingly, sought out the child. Malcolm was finally able to rectify his failure to understand his ex-patient, which allows him to “move on.” He then speaks to his wife, expressing his love for her and releasing her to go on living her own life.
The key to this twist is that while everything is leading up to it, and all the pieces are in place for the audience to realize it, there is nothing blatant. In this case, the seventh sequence is only a few minutes long, encompassing just the reveal that Malcolm is no longer alive, and that he was another spirit that the boy helped to “move on.”
All the loose ends are tied up, and while there is still some things to ponder, the story itself is now complete. The seventh sequence is a tricky one to “nail down” in a story, simply because it, along with the eighth, are usually short, and sometimes even barely present in a film. However, they are present, and that makes them important to recognize.
Summary
- The seventh sequence begins at the conclusion of the climax.
- Because the climactic “choice” is irreversible, it is in the seventh sequence that we see the consequence of that choice.
- The seventh sequence is the place for the “unexpected twist” ending.
- All loose ends should be resolved, and the protagonist(s) should be placed into a new homeostasis.
8-Part Story Structure: Sixth Sequence
Sequence 6: The Final Test
Of all the different sequences, this one is probably the easiest to explain, as well as the easiest to identify during a story. This is the epic battle, the last great struggle, and the final showdown where there’s no holding back, no escape, and no giving up. Only one person is getting out of this event on top, and we hope against hope that it’s going to be the protagonist.
Now, while there often isn’t a direct cut between the fifth and sixth sequences, the Climax of the film is almost always recognizable, and often is the part that the audience remembers best. It’s the big bang, the last hurrah, the super struggle that forces the protagonist to face down and defeat (or lose to) the antagonist. It can be serious, it can be horrifying, or it can be hilarious, but it’s the huge, epic, high point of the film where everything depends on the outcome of this fight for both the protagonist and the antagonist.
And often, it’s not even about a fight to the death. Sometimes it’s about the fight for the truth, or to overcome an internal struggle. Sometimes it has nothing to with defeating something, but instead the hero’s goal is simply to survive. While there are many different examples of very traditional climaxes, (ie Hero vs Villian), it would be beneficial to recognize the less-understood climaxes, or those without an easily discernible beginning and end to the actual “sixth sequence.”
Some films are less traditional as far as having a personified antagonist, especially in films like Romantic Comedies, or even many comedies in general. Quite often, these stories revolve around a single protagonist or two, both of whom often act as antagonists for one another throughout the story as their relationships change. Because of these shifting in relationships, often the sixth sequence, or the climax, involves the two of them finally being honest with each other, and finally making a clear choice about the relationship.
To illustrate what I’m talking about, let’s tale a look at the film While You Were Sleeping, which has less to do with the more obvious action-oriented “fight to the death”, but still utilizes the sixth sequence correctly to give us the climax of the film.
In the film, Lucy has found herself in a convoluted and awkward situation. She has been mistaken for the fiancé of Peter, a comatose man who she barely knows, and through a strange set of circumstances has been accepted into his quirky, yet wonderful surrogate family. But by the time Peter wakes up, Lucy has fallen for Jack, her “fiancé’s” brother, is worried about living a lie, and at the same time is concerned that she’s going to lose the relationships that she’s built up with this family that she’s never really known.
All of this comes to a peak at Lucy and Peter’s wedding, where the titular walking-down-the-aisle could be easily interpreted as climbing up a proverbial mountain. With Peter on one side, and his best man, Jack, on the other, the visual representation of Lucy’s choice is unmistakable. We, as the audience, watch as she struggles, trying to make this decision that will drastically affect her life forever. And it is this decision, this action, that is key. This is the crux of climax. Where the story hits its highest point, where this one moment will irreversibly alter the protagonist’s path, creating a fork in the road which can never be changed.
For Lucy, this choice came down to dishonesty vs honesty, and dealing with the consequences of either choice. Either she could go on living a lie forever, or she could come clean with the truth, and face the music. Now, as a storyteller, this set-up is obvious.
It’s the underlying dilemma that has pervaded the story for the entire film, and signs pointed to this being the final confrontation. It’s not about Lucy vs someone else, but instead it’s about Lucy facing herself. In her struggle to learn and grow, we’ve come to understand who this character is. We are rooting for her happiness. And we know that she has to go through this trial, but we hope that she’s going to be alright.
You see, the audience doesn’t necessarily need some super-surprise ending here. There need not be some impressive meteor that comes crashing down, interrupting everything. Instead, the audience is going to expect Lucy to tell the truth, because that’s who we know her to be. She’s only “herself” when she’s being honest, and for her to be happy, she’s going to have to do that.
Now, the climax does NOT include the final resolution, or even the consequences of the final showdown. Instead, it leads up to and ends at the choice. When the choice is made, the momentum shifts down, over the hill. The climax is the road up, and the peak, but the next sequence begins as that decision is made.
Summary
- The climax begins with the proverbial climb to the final summit.
- There can be no chance for escape, at least reasonably. This final action should be one that must happen.
- The choice/action of the climax must be irreversible. There is no turning back after this has occurred.
- The protagonist will be changed forever because of the actions of the climax.
8-Part Story Structure: Fifth Sequence
Sequence 5: The Calm Before the Storm
After pushing the protagonist to his or her limits at the end of the fourth sequence, there needs to be a moment of calm where our hero can rebuild his strength. Often times, this is the part in the story where the hero is at his lowest. He’s lost something tantamount. He feels like he can’t go on, but knows that he must. Very often, there is someone at his side who is there to remind him not only of his duty, but also of what he must do.
This scene is essential, because it allows us to empathize with the characters in a way that helps us to feel like we truly know them. We’ve seen them through several highs and lows, but now we’re seeing them handling their greatest failure. Do they force through it reluctantly? Or are they unflinching? If you want to deepen the audience understanding of the character, you must show what happens when they are at their lowest.
This sequence is often short, but unbelievably powerful, and memorable if done right. And to illustrate this, let’s take a look at the Christopher Nolan film, The Dark Knight.
In the film, Bruce Wayne was resigned to give himself to the police in an effort to stem The Joker’s tide of murders across Gotham. But at the last moment, Harvey Dent took his place, claiming that he himself was The Batman, and offering himself up to be arrested.
This leads to a difficult chase as Bruce, as Batman, must rescue Harvey from The Joker’s attempt to destroy the police convoy, and at the same time capture the Joker once and for all.
But of course, nothing with The Joker is ever so simple. After a powerful scene in the interrogation room, Batman is only able to save Harvey, during which time the former DA is horribly disfigured, and his childhood friend Rachel is obliterated in a violent warehouse explosion.
It is at this time that we see Bruce in his home, clutching the Batman cowl, and peering with agony into the events that his becoming the Dark Knight has brought upon him and Gotham.
Bruce Wayne: Alfred…
Alfred: Yes, Master Wayne?
Bruce Wayne: Did I bring this on her? I was meant to inspire good. Not…madness. Not…death.
Alfred: You have inspired good. But you spat in the faces of Gotham’s criminals; didn’t you think there might be some casualties? Things were always gonna get worse before they got better.
Bruce Wayne: But Rachel, Alfred…
Alfred: Rachel believed in what you stood for. What we stand for. Gotham needs you.
Bruce Wayne: No, Gotham needs its true hero…and I let that murdering psychopath blow him half to hell.
Alfred: Which is why, for now, they’re gonna have to make do with you.
Alfred acts as Bruce’s conscience, telling him what he already knows, comforting him in his time of need, but not allowing him simply to give up. Bruce must take up the mantle of The Batman, and he can’t simply let The Joker win. Now the calm is over, and the storm of climax is just in front of us.
The fifth sequence is about the protagonist gathering his forces. It’s a point in the film that is often called the “False Ending”. It looks like the antagonist has won, and that all hope is lost. If the hero were to give up right now, the story would be complete, and the ending would be such that the villain had won. Now, of course, that would leave some questions unanswered, but the audience at this point should get a sense of calm, and the action should take a lull.
But, of course, it’s not going to stay that way for long.
Summary
- This is the lowest point of the story for the protagonist.
- This is truly a calm before the storm of the climax, where the protagonist must muster his forces for one last, final strike against the antagonist.
- Often, other characters will act as the protagonist’s conscience, showing them what they must do to overcome this seemingly insurmountable enemy.
8-Part Story Structure: Fourth Sequence
Sequence 4: No Good Deed Goes Unpunished
At the end of the third sequence, the protagonist has usually met his first failure. He naively made an attempt, but perhaps his whole heart wasn’t in it, or he didn’t really have a true understanding of what he should have been doing. He hadn’t yet figured out his goal.
But at the beginning of the fourth sequence, he knows what he should be doing. The antagonist has become clear, and by the end of the sequence, he knows where he should be heading. This sequence is all about making a more determined, thoughtful, educated, sophisticated, and all around difficult attempt, where he’s willing to put himself on the line, and honestly try. He’s not just playing around anymore, and it will show in his demeanor.
However, despite how heart-felt this attempt may be, and despite the sheer determination in our hero’s actions, this attempt is going to end in failure, and the failure is going to be grand. The end of this sequence will bring the protagonist to the lowest point of the story – which is to say, he is going to have a deep sense of hopelessness, of despair, and he may even question whether he should go on.
Let’s take a look at one of my all-time favorite films that illustrates this beautifully, the Spielberg/Zemeckis classsic, Who Framed Roger Rabbit?
After being introduced to the hard-drinking, toon-hating private eye Eddie Valiant, we watch as he quickly becomes involved, albeit unwillingly, in trying to figure out who framed Roger Rabbit for Marvin Acme’s murder, all the while venting repeatedly how much he dislikes toons, and adamantly refusing to go to Toon Town. While he makes several cursory attempts at solving Roger’s dilemma, and believes that he’s got the case figured out several times, it isn’t until he sees the connection between R. K. Maroon and Marvin Acme that he finds some real motivation to go after something, and he decides to confront Maroon, who he believes is behind Roger’s framing, and this is where the “fourth sequence” begins.
We watch Eddie make his way to Maroon, cautiously sneaking in through the back door, and surprising the armed man. Eddie is very confident, disarming Maroon and interrogating him, expecting to hear Maroon’s confession. But he’s surprised to find that it wasn’t Maroon who framed Roger, and that there’s a much larger scheme in the works than Eddie ever realized.
In a surprising twist of events, Jessica Rabbit conks Roger over the head, stuffing him in the trunk and kidnapping him. Eddie gets shot at through the window, but dodges out of the way, the bullets instead striking Maroon, killing him. Eddie makes his way to his car, chasing after Jessica Rabbit through the streets of Los Angeles.
Jessica Rabbit makes a sudden turn, and we see the sign “Toon Town” flash in the headlights. Eddie slams on the brakes as Jessica’s car disappears into the tunnel. Eddie curses, and steps out of the car, standing at the cusp of his greatest challenge – Toon Town. This is the place he’s been trying to desperately avoid for years, and finally he must face his past and, more importantly, face himself in order to figure out the case, and save his friend, Roger.
This is where we see Eddie at the lowest low, at his personal crossroads. He’s lost his best lead, (Maroon), he’s been shot at, and he’s rushing to save his Client, who’s already in mortal danger, and now is being taken to who-knows-where. And here he is at the entrance to Toon Town, and he doesn’t know if he can do it.
Just remember that this sequence must end with the character hitting his lowest point. He has to suffer an irreversible and powerful failure, loss, struggle, or whatever you want to call it. This will also act as a catalyst for the next sequence. We see that this is where the story has taken a more “serious” turn, where things aren’t necessarily just fun and games anymore. Even in a comedy, you’ll get a sense that the film is more sober, and while you may still be laughing, you can feel “weightier” subject matter in the dialog and pacing.
Summary
- This is the protagonist’s second attempt, with more planning and ambition than the first one.
- There should definitely be a more serious tone, despite whatever genre the film is in.
- The sequence should end with the protagonist hitting his lowest point. Do the worst possible thing you can do to this guy.
8-Part Story Structure: Third Sequence
Sequence 3: Well, Let’s Give It a Try
Now that we’ve got all of the main groundwork laid out, we’re ready for the protagonist to take a first shot at achieving his goal. However, this sequence is often called the “naive attempt”, simply because it consists of a somewhat half-hearted attempt at achieving the goal that the characters already know that they need to achieve.
This first attempt is something of a knee-jerk reaction to getting what the character thinks he wants. Usually, it’s not fully thought-through, and often, the audience will know instinctively that this is probably not the best idea.
Let’s jump into a familiar family cartoon, and apply this sequence to Disney’s Alladin. After the title character is captured, condemned, and thrown into the dungeon, he’s not feeling so hot, especially since the new “love of his life” has been taken away, and they are both separated by several floors and a number of steel bars. But we know that this is part of the life of a “street rat”, and that sometimes bad things tend to happen.
He’s approached by an old man who tells him that the answers to his troubles lie within the mystical Cave of Wonders, and that he can have all the treasures that his heart desires if Alladin will just retrieve the lamp for him. Alladin, naive as can be, but with a little greed in his eye, decides to go along, and makes his way into the cave. He then, through a tumultuous chain of crazy events, gets the lamp, but is stuck yet again within the confines of another cave, even farther from the princess Jasmine that he wants to be with.
But wouldn’t you know it, there happens to be a genie in the little lamp, and as Alladin rubs it, out his flows in a cloud of smoke. After a song and dance number, and a lot of quick talking, Alladin and the Genie are at a little desert oasis, where Alladin explains his situation, and comes to the solution that the way to Jasmine’s heart is going to be through becoming a prince, despite the audience knowing that she doesn’t much care for that type. Well, here starts another little show tune, and we’re “introduced” to Prince Ali.
Now, how does Jasmine respond? Well, she responds by ignoring Ali completely, and walks away. Not exactly the warm welcome that he was expecting. Alladin, er, Ali tries again, this time on the princess’ balcony, where the Genie is encouraging Alladin to just be himself, (advice which Alladin ignores), and the princess rejects him yet again and tells him to jump off the balcony.
The key to the “failure” of this first attempt, is that it can’t be too great. The protagonist is not exactly putting his whole soul into this try, but is just being naive, believing that something this simple could be the solution to his problems. The third sequence is often one of fun, where we can feel alright laughing at the foolishness of the protagonist, and don’t have to take things too seriously. But, of course, that always depends on the story that’s being told.
The most important thing to remember in the third sequence is that it is designed to be a vehicle to get the protagonist actually working on the problem. Since he finally knows what he “wants”, he’s going to try and get it, and he’s got to try and fail at first, or the goal wasn’t all that difficult to obtain to begin with.
Summary
- At this point, the protagonist doesn’t have his whole heart in the attempt. He’s making a naive attempt.
- The tone here can still be relatively light-hearted, if the story permits.
- While the attempt is going to end in failure, the consequence shouldn’t be too great, because the attempt wasn’t all that great, either.
8-Part Story Structure: Second Sequence
Sequence 2: Excuse Me, But I Have a Concern
Just at the end of the first sequence, we are introduced to the first point of attack, where the main characters are faced with a problem that they didn’t really have before. No matter how hectic their lives might have daily been up to that point, this new problem was not part of their plan. Instead, it’s something unique, a problem that they hadn’t anticipated, but which presents an extremely large thorn in their side, or possibly a huge possible reward or goal for our hero to obtain.
This new “problem” presents the main objective for the protagonist(s), and the audience is able to realize what kind of ride that they’re going to be on.
In the movie Paycheck, we already know from the first sequence that Michael Jennings is a brilliant engineer who makes a comfortable living doing engineering work for other companies, and then having his memory erased so that he will not be able to betray that technology to anyone else. In return, he is paid very well, but he doesn’t have a clue as to what he might have worked on.
In the second sequence, he is presented with a chance to make a huge paycheck, in return for a job that would require him to lose three years of his life. He decides to take the chance, and when he “wakes up” after the job is all done, he goes out to retrieve his money, but finds out that his money is gone, and all he has is an envelope with twenty seemingly common objects that aren’t worth nearly enough to compensate him, and on top of that, he’s got a number of people after him trying to kill him for reasons unknown.
This second sequence, again, takes around 10-15 minutes, but lays out the main problem that the protagonist and we, as an audience, are going to be concerned with for the remainder of the film. It raises the questions in our minds that we expect to have answered by the end of the film:
“Why did he give up all the money?” “What do the objects have to do with anything?” “What was he working on for the past three years?” “What are these random flashbacks?”
The main purpose of the second sequence is the introduction of whatever it is that is going to occupy the time and efforts of the protagonist, but it also must be laid out in an interesting way. Just having a random person say “Well, here’s your new problem” like a plumber might identify the source of a leak, isn’t going to cut it. This is entertainment. This is something that people are paying money and sacrificing time to see. They deserve a well-crafted scenario creatively portrayed, and that’s what you have to give them.
By the end of this sequence, the protagonist should have set his goal as to what he needs to do, or at least have a semi-solid objective in mind. If not, then the sequence is not yet over, and it needs to be retooled until that is the result.
Summary
- What is the point of attack? Show the main problem that the protagonist is going to have to face for the remainder of the film.
- The character should also set the goal for themselves, regardless of their own amount of motivation in pursuing it.
8-Part Story Structure: First Sequence
Sequence 1: Homeostasis – Our New Ordinary World
The first act of the film is always extremely important. You have to grab the audience’s attention, and thrust them into this new world of your story as quickly as possible, immersing them into the adventure that they will be experiencing over the next one-and-a-half to two hours (or sometimes more, if trends continue). You also need to help the audience realize the main conflict that will dominate the tension in the film, so that by the end of the first act, all of the main players will have been introduced, the main problem is identified, and the second act can start the audience on their way to figuring out how things are going to be resolved.
The first sequence involves the audience being thrown right into the story without any prior knowledge. There should not be any explanation required, and we shouldn’t need any real narration. The story should just plain start.
Take, for example, The Raiders of the Lost Ark. In the opening sequence, we see just a few men walking through a South American jungle, following another man whose face we cannot see. Instead, we see his leather jacket and brown fedora, and we realize the dangers of this place by the expressions of the men following him. We come to understand that this leader misses very little, as one of the men tries to betray him with a revolver, but a whip strikes out fast as lightning to snap the weapon away, sending the man scurrying away into the darkness. And finally, we see the rougish face of Indiana Jones.
We follow him into a hidden temple, and watch with wonder as he expertly navigates a tomb that is riddled with booby-traps, all the while keeping his companion safe despite himself. We watch as he moves towards the golden idol, and we see the greediness in his eyes as he makes the fateful swap that sets the ancient machine traps in motion.
In a blur, he rushes through the tomb, renavigating the previous obstacles with lightning speed, just on the verge of death as he flees for his life with the idol in hand. We watch as he is betrayed by his other companion, and realize that as long as a person trusts in Indy, they’re going to be alright, but if they betray him, then they’re probably going to die.
He rushes from the caverns, and finally from a giant rolling stone ball, and eventually lands at the feet of Belloch, who relieves him of the idol at the point of several dozen blowguns. Then, Indy is forced to make his escape, dodging death yet again, and finally reaching the plane, and his rescue, in the nick of time. And as a final bonus, we find out that Indy absolutely cannot stand snakes, which will come into play later in the story.
Just in that little sequence, we’ve introduced Indiana Jones as a character, we’ve shown his traits, and his life, and we’ve introduced the main villian, all in about 15 minutes. In our own stories, we have to be sure that this in a similar fashion. This is a perfect example of an excellent first sequence.
We need to give the audience a taste of what to expect from the rest of the film, the kind of “flavor” that they should be ready for. We need to show at least the main character, and possibly the main villian (if applicable), and identify some of the traits of each of these characters. We need to establish the setting of the film, the time, setting, place, environment, and cultural situation. Each of these parts are essential to a successful first sequence, and a quality story will address them.
Other wonderful examples include the opening sequence of The Shawshank Redemption, as well as Jurassic Park, Star Wars, and even non-adventury type films such as While You Were Sleeping and In the Heat of the Night. Each does a wonderful job of opening the film, and giving the audience a chance to accustom themselves to the world that they’re going to be in for the next couple of hours.
Summary
- This is the first time that we’re seeing our protagonists, the setting, the time, and everything else about the story. Show the protagonist(s) in their homeostasis.
- See the conflict that pulls the protagonist out of their “norm”.
- Set the tone for the rest of the film.
The 8-Part Story Structure: Introduction
I’ve been running through my notes lately, of old classes and projects, all in an attempt to further hone my skills and better understand exactly what makes up the essence of story. It’s not a simply matter of cool characters, just an interesting idea, or whatever, but instead there’s a definite formula that seems to penetrate most stories, especially those of a presentative nature, such as film or theatre.
That’s not to say that every single story is exactly identical, but instead, there is a certain form that must be seriously considered when a story is created, or else the audience will not make sense of it. One of a writer’s chief concerns should always be the audience, and how they are going to react to any certain part of your presentation. And in that vein, the audience generally will respond favorably to a new, fresh, unfamiliar story, told using a familiar formula.
This formula was laid out best, I believe, by Czech filmmaker Frank Daniel, who’s largest contribution, at least to Western Cinema, was his “8-Sequence Structure” paradigm, which he developed during his time as head of the Graduate Screenwriting Program at the University of Southern California. With this structure, he outlines the very basic formula that most films, if not most stories, should follow.
The formula is to seperate the story into eight 10-15 minute sequences, with each sequence acting almost as its own “mini-movie”, with an individual three-act structure. In the overarching structure of the film, the first two sequences combine to form the film’s first act. The next four sequences then create the film’s second act. Finally, the last two sequences complete the resolution and dénouement of the story. Each sequence’s resolution creates the situation which sets up the next sequence.
This structure has its roots in the limitations of early films, where film reels were really only about 10-15 minutes in length, and the projectionist had to then swap the reels (in what is known as a changeover) for the film to continue. Early screenwriters, knowing these limitations, began to write their films with a definitive beginning and end to each reel, so that the story wouldn’t simply “jump” halfway through a scene. Feature films, which were often around 90-120 minutes in length, consisted of eight separate reels. Even in some older theaters, the changeover continues for feature films, which are delivered as a package of five to eight different reels that have to be threaded properly.
This rhythm became familiar to audiences and writers alike, and so even as technology has progressed to the point where the film no longer “jumps”, the film-viewing audience has been trained to understand that most films have that rhythm at their heart, regardless of what the film is about. As such, you’ll quickly see that when a story is not told with an understanding of this formula, it begins to be uncomfortable to watch. And as is said often in the business, you need to know the rules before you can break the rules.
What I’d like to explain over the next few installments are the different sequences as I understand them, in an attempt to help others in their own stories, and also to help myself to better internalize them. In my own life, whenever I’ve been able to share things with others, I tend to understand them a little better, and I get them permanently into my mind. So, feel free to follow along as we explore this amazing storymaking formula.
The Embers Were Still Burning
I stood near my car, watching the passers-by make their way from place to place, each individual with a solid mission, a goal in mind, from the common goal of making it home for dinner, or something more extreme, each had a purpose in mind as they made their way from the double doors to the parking lot.
The noon-day sun was bright in the sky, and I adjusted the sunglasses on my face, their blue lenses protecting my eyes from the heat of the day. Despite it all, however, it wasn’t my eyes that seemed to warm, but instead a feeling began to permeate my chest. One that I had thought long-gone, not since… I’m getting ahead of myself.
I checked my watch again, the Citizen quietly reminding me of the seconds that were ticking by. There, on my hood, were the two bottles that I’d purchased, sweating in the sun, their chilled contents expressing distaste at having to sit in the heat, but I paid them little heed. After all, if they were sweating, then I knew that I would be, too.
A glance back at the parking meter confirmed that I still had plenty of time, but even so, the anxiety seemed to be growing within me. A subtle nervousness was causing my hand to start to shake, so I hooked my thumb on my pocket, and forced myself to calm down. After all, this wasn’t the first time that I’d seen her.
We’d known each other for nearly two years, actually. But for some reason this felt like the first time all over again. For some reason it felt like I was being introduced all over again, yet my face betrayed no small hint of my inner turmoil. I forced myself to keep my feelings in check, and told myself to just stay calm. After all, she just wanted to talk. It wasn’t like we had never done that before. We saw each other all the time before, but after the semester ended, it had been a while, probably somewhere around two months.
I’d spent the better part of a year adjusting, diminishing the flame that had continued to burn in my heart despite itself, until finally there was nothing but a few small embers to remind me of the bonfire that had scorched me before.
Finally she walked out the door. Like many of the others, she walked with purpose, with a definite stride, but it seemed that she didn’t so much have a goal in mind, but that she was searching. Her gaze wandered about, scanning the area, but I just watched, waiting. I knew that she was trying to find me, but there I was in plain sight, so I waited for the recognition.
When she finally spotted me, she smiled and waved, and I responded in kind. That feeling in my chest pounded slightly, but I suppressed it again, leaving the past in the past. We said our hellos, and started up the conversation as if there had never been a break at all. She spoke of her family, and about how things had been going, and about how her life was treating her. I shared with her the goings-on in my life, from work to ideas to school and family. There was no pause in the conversation, it was just a sense of belonging, a sense that here were two souls who meshed together. We didn’t really have anywhere specific that we were walking, instead it was just whatever spot we happened to be standing on.
And that feeling in my chest continued to hiccup, no matter how many times I kept pushing it down.
Near the end, the conversation turned serious, and I finally realized why she had wanted to talk. I listened with an understanding ear, and agreed with her on every point, at least in my internal responses. But outwardly, I offered the sensible, assuring answers, intentionally not showing the feelings that I truly felt.
And then, with a goodbye and a quick embrace, she was gone, leaving me there wondering where to go. All around me, they continued to walk with purpose, and with a reason. For me, however, the purpose was done. I walked away slowly, holding my head up so as not to betray the feeling in my chest. But inside, I was wracked, as the fire that had for so long been dormant suddenly sprung to life.
I sat quietly in the heat of the sun, and just pondered. I pondered my place, and I pondered my future.
I closed my eyes, and in the darkness of my mind, I swear I could see the glow. In the far recesses of my conscience, I could see the embers.
And those embers were still burning.
- Kyle
Smart and Stupid Characters, Howitshouldhaveended.com
I realize that the past couple of posts have been a little “moody”, so I thought I’d give you guys something with a lighter tone.
Have you ever been watching a movie or a TV show, and start wondering why these characters are so stupid? You just want to yell at the screen, “Hey, morons! Why don’t you try that rocket launcher that you had a few episodes ago?!” Or maybe, “You idiot, how ’bout you don’t just run in there with only a toothpick for protection!?”
I know there’s a number of times when I’ve just been annoyed that the characters in films act so stupid for no reason whatsoever. I mean, who doesn’t love the scene in Raiders of the Lost Ark where the big, sword-swinging guy comes at Indiana Jones, doing an elaborate bunch of swinging and posturing, only for Indy to look at him, annoyed, before pulling out his revolver and shooting him before walking away. Of course, it’s one of the most clever scenes in movie history, but it was actually a joke.
Originally, there was a huge, choreographed fight between the two characters, with Indy’s opponent having an upper hand with his gigantic sword. But when it came time for the scene, the star wasn’t really up to it. See, Harrison Ford was sick with dysentery at the time, and so when the shot came up, he just pulled out his gun and fired. The crew liked it so much that that’s the final cut that was left in.
But not only is that good characterization, and an excellent scene, but it’s just plain smart. It’s a character using a bit of sense, and that seems pretty rare in films nowadays, at least from what I’ve seen. I mean, work smarter, not harder, right? We don’t need big fight for the sake of big fight. Have a reason already.
Anyway, I was at work the other day and randomly happened upon a little site called “How It Should Have Ended”. Basically, it’s a bunch of cartoons (of pretty decent quality, actually) detailing how certain movies should have ended, with a funny, witty twist, of course.
I would highly recommend checking it out. My favorites are the ones on Spider-Man 3, Lord of the Rings, and It’s a Wonderful Life. Just some really funny stuff. Alright, I’m out.
- Kyle
Alvin and the Chipmunks
I’ll explain something to the reader here that I’m addressed before, but have ultimately glossed over. I am fiercely cynical, and extremely critical, when it comes to film story. Techniques may change, film may be updated, it may be shot in digital, or a special effect may look old and/or cheesy, but it’s the story of a film that truly carries the project, and if the film doesn’t work, it isn’t because of a bad “effect” – it’s because of a sub-par story.
Don’t believe me? Take a look at the effects in Ghostbusters, and tell me if the somewhat “dated” effects hinder the movie. No. How about the effects in Raiders of the Lost Ark? Can you really think of any film that relies solely on the special effects? No. Those kind of films end up like The Chronicles of Riddick, X-Men 3, and even Alvin and the Chipmunks.
The story is loyal enough to it’s source: Dave Seville (Jason Lee) is a struggling songwriter who can’t seem to sell his work, until he rambunctiously encounters three little singing chipmunks, Alvin, Simon, and Theodore, fresh off a tree farm where their home was cut down to act as a Christmas tree for the very studio that Dave struck out at.
When they realize that with Dave and the chipmunks’ talents combined, they can have a promising singing career, they are finally able to sell the songs to “Uncle” Ian Hawke (David Cross), a wealthy record executive who sees only dollar signs in the innocent eyes of Alvin and company. What follows is a clichéd “growing up” story following the naive rock-star career of the chipmunks, with Dave being thrown completely out of their life, and then his “awakening” as he realizes that he needs to help them. Muddled into the script, or perhaps even just tacked-on at the last minute, is a romance with Dave’s old flame, Claire Wilson (Cameron Richardson), which really doesn’t go anywhere, and seemed more appropriate for Jon Arbuckle of Garfield fame than this already suffering tale.
There were a number of things that bothered me about Chipmunks. First off, no one but Dave seems to think that it’s strange that a trio of chipmunks can sing, dance, and carry on rather childish but intelligent conversations. The entire world seems to simply accept that talking, singing chipmunks are a part of everyday life, and that immediately pulled me out of the realm of believability.
The humor in the film is pretty much like watching any standard “kid” fare – plenty of bodily function jokes, big messes, loud noises, and a little “nudity.” It almost seemed like they were just throwing in every re-hashed version of a joke I’ve heard in either kid-themed movies like Daddy Day Care, or even toned-down versions of jokes from teen movies. The result – I felt like I was sitting there wasting my time for an hour and a half.
Chipmunks does have a story, of sorts, but it lacks any real depth, at least not enough to make you actually care one way or the other what’s going to happen. It’s absolutely possible to make an audience care about computer-generated characters – the work of Pixar and Dreamworks is more than testament to that. But you can’t just throw a bunch of random elements together to make a film. There’s the unnecessary romantic tangent, with no real reason to exist. When Dave loses the chipmunks, he just does it, not caring for the fact that he can’t possibly make a living on his own, and needs them if he’s ever going to make any kind of career in the industry. And there’s the fact that every time that he screams out the classic “Alvin!!”, Jason Lee looks like he’s just forcing out the line, because it doesn’t correspond at all with the hassle involved in any particular situation.
All in all, this isn’t the story of three little chipmunks, instead, it’s the story of a studio trying to make a buck on an old franchise, because they’re just scraping the barrel trying to find anything that’ll keep the money flowing in, no matter how sub-par of an effort it might be, and no matter how often, like Simon, we’re forced to swallow a load of crap.
- Kyle
Not a Fan of the iPod
I know that everyone and their grandma has an iPod now, and that they’re common enough that they’ve become standard Bluetooth options on a lot of new cars. I get it, it’s popular. Here’s a product that anyone can pick up and put music onto, all without having to know much about computers.
What bugs me, though, is that Apple has to have complete control over every single aspect of the product, no matter what. You can only add songs using iTunes. In order to add songs to iTunes, you have to download them from the iStore, or transfer them from your own CDs. Then you use iTunes to sync your iPod to your computer, but only to your computer.
Now, let’s say that I want to add a video file from the school, or from work, or whatever. Nope, that’s not allowed, unless you get the file from iTunes at home. If I sync with another computer, I immediately delete everything from my iPod, and so I can’t make the transfer.
iPod, iTunes, iStore… iQuit.
On the other hand, I picked up a Sony NWZ the other day, which runs mp3 and mpeg4, so audio and video, and doesn’t need any middle-man software unless I want to add play lists. (For that, you have to use Windows Media Player, which comes with the unit, but is usually already installed on most Windows PCs.)
I can pull files on and off however I like, without having to sync up my system. It’s just an easy plug-in, do my thing, and unplug. Plus, Sony doesn’t ask me every week to update my system because they’ve come up with some new trick or detail for their program. Instead, they trust me to be able to handle it all myself.
So what exactly am I saying? The Sony was a much better buy than the iPod, no matter what anyone else says. Apple makes great computers, but as for the iPod, they’re only interested in controlling the market, while compy users like myself are interested in the freedom to use our tools however we want.
- Kyle
RETRO GAMING – Metal Arms: Glitch in the System
Okay, here’s a sure recipe for a non-hit: Take a shooter with surprisingly intricate depth, add tooney-looking robots, crazy voices, and a steep difficulty curve, all wrapped around a fun, slightly-clichéd, but well-voiced plot, and market it alongside all the “serious” shooters of the era. For those of you who still own a PS2, X-Box, or Gamecube, and haven’t give this little gem a try, I’d invite you to check out the bargain bin for a copy of Metal Arms.
The storyline is pretty simple. There’s a planet called Ironstar whose inhabitants are all robots. There are basically two kinds – The freedom-fighting Droids, led by the courageous Colonel Alloy, and the Mils, commanded by the evil General Corrosive. You play the role of Glitch, a busted-up mining Droid who lost his memory, but who has enough attitude to take on the Mils head to head with little more than a mining laser and a little “elbow grease.”
As you start the game, you might feel a little annoyed by the rather “kid-like” appearance of the game, but don’t be fooled. Despite the “look” of the game, you’ve got in your hands a pretty complicated shooter. Sure, there’s the basic weapons, from lasers and machine guns to a shotgun and sniper rifle, but there’s a lot more to the game than that.
The first thing that hit me when I started up the game was the difficulty of the game. This thing is hard! Don’t let the first couple of levels fool you – you’ll pretty quickly end up facing hordes of enemies, and from some of the most unlikely places. You’ll think you’ve got a level’s baddies down by the fifth or sixth attempt, but then you’re killed by a guy hidden somewhere that you didn’t see. There’s plenty of times where you’re just sitting there, trying to figure out how to get past a certain obstacle, and you’ll start yelling at the machine, complaining aloud why they couldn’t just give you a hint. But then, you suddenly find the admittedly obvious solution, and move on, because you want to know what’s going to happen next.
The multiplayer on Gamecube and X-Box is surprisingly fun, with up to four players each with a Glitch clone, all fighting through a number of different modes, including the standard capture the flag and king of the hill, but also some interesting variations. PS2 users get a little short-changed, though, because they only get a two-player multiplayer, and it’s kind of lame to play one-on-one after a while. So that’s a negative.
One the plus side, Glitch gets a surprising number of weapons and tools, from recruiter grenades and EMP weapons, to a gun that lets you sneak up and gain control of other bots, to vehicles, to controlling stations, to some of the most heart-pounding levels you’ll ever play on any game, ever. This is a game that pushes your creativity, logic, and shooting skills to their max, and the game is in and of itself a very rewarding experience.
The music is a little silly, but it’s not really a concern. The real sound stars are the voice actors, who really did a top-notch job to create a very immersing and interesting experience. You’ll get a little annoyed with Crank, you’ll laugh at Glitch’s little jokes and frustrations, and you’ll smile as you finally help Glitch to restore order to Ironstar.
So, all in all, this is a game a fully and completely recommend, if you’ve got a little spare time and a gaming fix, but not the money required to pick up one of the new systems. And it’s definitely a welcome Glitch in your good old system.
- Kyle
Our Facination with the Stars
I don’t usually watch a lot of television. To be honest, I could care less about the latest shows, or about this or that “must-see” sitcom or series. For me, I wait till it comes out on DVD and then decide whether I’m going to buy the whole series and watch it. (Or, perhaps, just borrow it from a buddy who happens to have it.)
In any case, I’ve noticed more and more attention being diverted to the stars. Now, I’m not talking about the wonderous sparkles that adorn our clear night skies, I’m talking about the well-paid self-promoting trendsetters that we daily go to great lengths to keep track of.
I was watching the news this morning as I was getting ready to work out, and I noticed a short commercial for TMZ that ran with same tagline about one of the Hollywood elite being pregnant, and the possibility of her getting back with her ex-boyfriend. I paused for a second and watched, not because I was interesting, but more stuck in the moment over the sheer shock of witnessing such a benign and inane announcement.
I stood there for a second, in awe of how simply ridiculous our culture has become. Immediately as the commercial ended, I said aloud, “So what? Do people actually care about this garbage?” Apparently so. We as a middle-class culture, afraid of actually putting ourselves out there to be judged and measured, feel secure in our living rooms, watching others live out the fantasies that we might not even admit to ourselves.
We worship American Idol, whet our appetite with Hell’s Kitchen, and become absolutely Lost within the far reaches of some unknown island. It’s like we’ve come to fear the real world. We look for “reality” to be delivered to us through our televisions, instead of going out and learning and doing and living our own lives!
In ancient times, our ancestors looked to the stars, I’m sure, as we do, fascinated with the wonders that wait for us beyond the far reaches of our understanding. But they tried, they did, and they continued to learn and grow. But we, instead, are far more interested with what is or isn’t happening to Paris, or Brittney, or Jessica. We worry about Tom, Brad, or Angelina, as if it really had any bearing on our lives! The target may have changed, but our culture seems to worship the stars just the same.
And it’s a shame, really, that behind the masks and whatever, they’re really just normal people like everyone else. Me, I plan on going up, and shooting for the sky.
- Kyle
Not The Class I Signed Up For
Last semester, I took a class that was supposed to cover an intermediate level of digital media programs and skills, including Photoshop, Powerpoint, Flash, and video editing. I had taken the beginner class already, and sort of breezed through it, mostly because I already knew most of the subjects that were presented.
Anyway, when I went into this new class, from the same teacher as before, it wasn’t anything that I had been told. Instead of actually learning skills, we were instead given a first-class education in stress management. Instead of actually being instructed with skills that we might utilize in the workforce, the class became a stand-off between the students and the teacher. The class was set-up as a “business”, with the teacher as the “client”, and our random groups as companies vying for the contract, which was actually our grade.
The problem I had with that is that it caused competition among a class that could have very well been a united group. We were competing with one another for the grades, so we wouldn’t share information or ideas with one another, because those ideas might be “stolen” from us. Therefore, we weren’t able to utilize the vast amount of fresh and untapped talent within every member of the class, all in an effort to “teach” us about the digital business world.
I’m sorry, but that’s just plain shallow teaching. Not just bad teaching, but unbelievable teaching. I’ll say right now that the only thing I actually learned is that there’s no way in hell that I’m ever going to run my business like that. Yes, there are business secrets, and you don’t go blabbing to the world, but you don’t create an atmosphere where you’re afraid to share with your co-workers.
So for all of you teachers out there. Create an atmosphere of cooperation. There’s enough stress and problems in the world that we don’t need teachers breeding discord in a classroom in a useless effort to prove some inane point. We get enough of that out in the workplace.
- Kyle
Burning the Midnight Oil All Day
I remember, seven-plus years ago, when Red Bull and Mountain Dew: Amp were the only two energy drinks, at least to my knowledge. I remember downing them, and realizing that they didn’t really taste all that good, but that I could stay out for hours into the early morning after downing one. I’ve never really enjoyed the taste of coffee, or even the smell, so these seemed like a better alternative that didn’t have that java flavor to them.
Fast-forward to now, and I find myself downing a Rockstar infrequently, about every time that I need an extra boost after a late-night movie session or just messing around with friends. The real kicker, though, is driving on pure caffeine. There are some days when I just feel like this stuff is going to kill me. My preferred drink, the Rockstar Juiced: Guava, has less carbonation than the other drinks, and has the best taste of any of the ones I’ve tasted. But even so, I find myself getting a headache sometimes from drinking too many, or even a small withdrawal headache when I haven’t had one in a couple of weeks.
I need to read up on these things. I mean, I know some people who are literally addicted to these. Just like other people and their morning coffee, they can’t get through the day without caffeine. To me, that’s just plain sad. I guess I kind of flirt with that line, knowing that I only drink these when I actually need to, like, say, when I spent until 4 AM last night watching The Green Mile and I have five classes today. <grin>
I mean, even right now, I feel pretty tired, and I think that it’s compounded by the “crash” after I drink one of these “Nitrous in a can” containers. I’m not really sure what I’m saying here, but I guess I’m just asking you to be careful. I don’t think that these things once in a while are really going to do any damage, except getting your heart rate up, but you’ve got to exercise some control. Don’t live on energy drinks – get some sleep instead. Your body will love you for it, and you’ll feel better, too.
- Kyle
I Am Legend
A lot of the trends in Hollywood these days tend to swirl around the apocalypse. Disaster movies are getting to be more and more common, from the well known (Resident Evil: Extinction), to the less publicized (Sunshine). It seems that the movie business is obsessed with the end of the world. I understand that there are a few more such films to be released in the near future, including Shelter and even the newest Pixar announcement, Wall-E. I don’t know what it is about a catstrophic end of the world that draws people in, but I guess that’s what we’re going to get. My personal opinion is that we as a culture are noticing the slip of control that we seem to have in our lives, and that gets played out on the screen. But enough human observation – let’s get to the review.
From the very first trailer I saw on this film, I was intrigued. As one of those who “haven’t read the book”, along with, I’m sure, much of the world, I had no real biases going in. All I knew was that the film was about this guy (Will Smith) who is the last man on Earth, walking the streets of New York City. That, and there was going to be a red Shelby flying through the city at some point in the film.
Right at the start, we see a cryptic broadcast of this “miracle virus” that was based on the measles, that has been “genetically altered” to cause the cure for cancer. And then, we’re thrown into a Castaway-esque situation following Robert Neville, a biologist in New York City who is now “the last man on earth” after this “miracle” turned into a nightmare, and apparently killed every single person on the planet.
Now, I’ve never really been one to go into too many details on my reviews, but I wanted to be especially careful with this one. If you don’t really know the story, your best bet at enjoying it is to go in without knowing anything else. Otherwise, you’ll miss out on the vibes that this film has the potential to give you.
Smith, who has already established himself as a superb actor in many different genres and themes, was absolutely the perfect choice to carry this film. His portrayal of a man obsessed with a dying cause and lonely for real human companionship plays very well, and you really feel for him. The other main character worth mentioning is Sam, Robert’s german shepherd, who is the perfect companion to Smith’s lonely character. For Neville, Sam seems to represent the last vestiges of sanity that he’s desperately trying to hold on to, the last breath of hope that keeps him optimistic that somehow, a solution is possible.
One of the most tender and heart-breaking scenes in the entire film revolves around Sam, and the affect that that incident has on Neville as he finally succumbs to his personal madness. (When you see the film, you’ll know exactly what I mean, and you’ll probably come close to tears.) There is a real power that the audience seems drawn to in Smith’s performance, and you’re brought to care deeply for these two characters.
Unfortunately for me, the ending of the film seemed a little rushed. I still, to this day, am not completely satisfied with it, but I guess that’s the way that films go. I felt that the end of the movie kind of disintegrated, and that the addition of those two extra characters was both unneeded and unnecessary. Just like the fly in the ointment, they just didn’t seem to belong.
Would I see this film again? Probably. But, Will Smith’s amazing portrayal notwithstanding, this isn’t one that you need to shell full price for. I don’t regret seeing it, but it’s one that you can wait for until it gets to the dollar theater.
- Kyle
Who are "They"?
Have you ever heard someone start a sentence with “they say…”? Doesn’t that ever seem a little strange to you? We spend a lot of our time worrying about what other people think, what they wear, or what their doing with their lives, don’t we?
I imagine that hidden deep within some cave somewhere, there is a secret underground headquarters where “They” are hiding. Some super-secret organization that runs everything in the world from behind the scenes. It is “They” who decide what we wear. It is “They” who decide what we should eat. “They” decide every single aspect of our lives, determining what it the “in” thing to do, so that we don’t have to worry about making those pesky decisions on our own.
It’s interesting, but we as a society have something of a split standard. We strive to do things that others approve of, but we also want to be independent. We both shun and praise anything that’s different, depending on whether we approve of its level of difference. We hold biases on skin color, but we praise a unique paint job on a car. Anyone who doesn’t wear the right clothes is shunned, unless they’re holding something that we desperately wish we had. It’s just weird to me.
I know I’m being a little overly dramatic, but that’s the way I feel sometimes. Everyone always thinks that “everybody’s doing it”, but I have yet to be completely ostracized for making a decision on my own that I personally feel comfortable with. I do things on my own terms, within the law, of course, and do what I like.
And so far, “They” haven’t come to get me.
- Kyle
A Barking Dog's Insight
A couple of weeks ago, I was walking down the street on the way home from the bus stop. It was cold, I was tired from working all day, and I just wanted to go home and eat dinner. As I was meandering alongside a wooden fence, suddenly there was a rush, and a crash, and this dog slammed into the fence as hard as it could, barking furiously at me. I’m not normally a jumpy guy, but considering that the dog and I were seperated by just an inch of boards, I was understandably reactive.
After checking my heartbeat, and making sure that I was still going to be breathing for a little while, I decided to see what had scared me out of my wits, and peered through the slits. It was a little dog, one of those yapping mongrels that barely qualifies past “rodent” on the food chain. I cursed the dog quietly, and went on my way. But this was a pretty long fence, and the dog just kept getting louder and more annoying. I tried to ignore it, but the thing wouldn’t shut up. Finally, I’d had enough of it.
“Shut up!” I bellowed. “The only reason you’re barking is ’cause you’re on the other side of the fence!”
At this moment, I paused, and kind of realized kind of the principle that I’d inadvertantly stated. It just kind of hit me.
It’s really easy for us to sit safely in our homes, or in a classroom, and criticize or derail those outside. It’s easy to make fun of another, to question another’s actions, especially because we’re not there in the trenches alongside them. It’s easy to be an armchair quarterback, ridiculing the players on the screen for not being able to catch that “easy pass.” It’s because there’s a barrier, or a fence, between us and the situation.
How many times have we criticized another behind their back, because we were safe by the water cooler? How many times have we complained about the government, and their apparent lack of intelligence or ability? How many times have we complained to others about a teacher, a manager, or some other authority? That dog would have quieted immediately and ran had that fence suddenly disappeared. After seeing me, and realizing that I was just a wee bit larger than he, the mutt would have realized his mistake. That, or he would have gotten a swift kick in the backside.
But I think we can learn from this principle. Stop barking from behind the fence. It doesn’t help, it’s intensely annoying, and it only shows an immense lack of backbone and fortitude. If you got a problem, then take it up with the person that you have a problem with. You don’t like the government, write to them, and let them know. You got a personal axe to grind? Then go and grind it, and get it over with, because I’m tired of hearing about people who complain and complain about things in life that they don’t have any ambition to change. Either do something about it, or just shut up.
Otherwise, stay quiet on your side of the fence.
- Kyle
The Strange World of Blogging
When I first started blogging, I kind of did it just for the fun of it. I’ve always been a journal writer, and I like to write in general, and I sort of needed somewhere where I could start putting my thoughts up. (I’m on my computer usually six-plus hours a day, so this seemed like the best solution to my “need-to-get-my-thoughts-out” cravings.)
Anyways, over the past couple of months, I’ve learned all kinds of things about this weird wild world. And, for those of you who are starting up, or are thinking about starting a blog, here’s a couple of tips to keep in mind:
1) Don’t Expect Heavy Traffic
Most blogs don’t get a lot of traffic. But I will tell you that the more that you post, the more people will come. Write about something interesting, write about varying topics, and you’ll see more and more people coming to your blog to check it out. It just takes time.
2) Write What’s Interesting To You
Don’t just write to get traffic. Write what you want, not what’s “popular.”
3) Write Well
The maxim that I’ve always tried to live by is “quality before quanity.” A single great post is worth ten mediocre ones.
4) Pictures
Use pictures to spice up your site, but make sure that you don’t go overboard. A couple pictures here and there really helps to add variety to the blog, but too many and it just becomes distracting. And on a related note, make sure that your pictures “fit” together. Ask an art-minded friend what she thinks, and if she doesn’t like it, then figure out how to fix it.
5) No Music!!
Don’t put music on your blog. Whenever I come to a site that automatically blasts music through my stereo without asking me first, I leave. You’ll never see a professional site with automatic music. Well, at least not one that gets frequented often.
6) A Note About Animated GIFs
Avoid the overuse of Animated GIFs. Animation is like a spice. A little adds flavor, but too much causes avoidance behavior.
7) Careful About Personal Information
Even if you’re doing a personal blog that only you and your friends are going to be looking at, be very careful about what you post online. Your name should be fine, but don’t put up a personal address, or any real specifics. That way, if you put up something that makes someone angry, they won’t hunt you down. Just a friendly precaution.
8) Above All, Have Fun With It
Just have a good time, and do your best. The rest doesn’t really matter all that much. Happy blogging.
- Kyle
Movie Review: Enchanted
I’ve been a huge Disney fan since I was old enough to be interested by a television screen, and of course, a lot of that has to do with being raised watching Disney’s animated feature films. From Alladin to The Lion King, Mulan to Hercules, Rescuers Down Under to The Hunchback of Notre Dame, and even the less-acclaimed such as Lilo and Stitch or Treasure Planet. And be it non-masculine or whatever, I really love the stories of a number of the “princess” stories such as The Little Mermaid, Pocahontas, or Beauty and the Beast. These are strong films in their own right, regardless of the medium in which they’re shown.
However, they’re also pretty quirky, and anyone who “grew up Disney” can tell you that there’s some pretty crazy things going on in just about every one of these films that just don’t happen in real life. The prince usually doesn’t just magically find the woman of his dreams. There usually isn’t a dragon or giant to slay for the fair maiden’s heart. And many princesses wait for a long time waiting for their prince to come, and when he does, he’s not nearly as handsome or charming as everyone made him out to be. And when all is said and done, and the music has been sung, “happily ever after” takes a lot more work than it seems.
So, with this kind of a background, I walked into the theater of Enchanted. I’d heard a number of good things about the film, from friends who had seen it, and good reviews, but I don’t think I was entirely ready for it.
The story starts with classic Disney animation, as we are introduced to the love-lorn beauty, Giselle (Amy Adams) in the kingdom of Andalasia. She’s singing with the animals, and waiting for her charming prince to come and sweep her off her feet, though she’s only ever seen him in a dream. Enter Prince Edward (James Marsden), who just happens to be a handsome young prince searching for a princess-to-be. After a troublesome encounter with an ogre, a little daring do and tree-climbing, Giselle falls into Edward’s arms where he romantically whisks her away with one of my favorite lines in the film: “We shall be married in the morning!”
But Edward’s mother, the evil Queen Narissa (Susan Sarandon), is not happy about this little engagement taking her crown away, and so she entices the gullible young girl to a magical wishing well, whereupon she pushes her inside, sending her to the world where there is no “happily ever after” – Our world. But more specifically, New York City.
After some rather funny encounters and misadventures, Giselle, lost and disoriented in a “strange” world that she doesn’t understand, is discovered by single-father Robert Phillip (Patrick Dempsey) and his clever little daughter, Morgan (Rachel Covey). So begins this tale of Disney magic and music meeting the so-called “harsh realities” of real life, as Giselle is simply trying to get back home to Prince Edward, who has leapt into the portal himself and is desperately searching for his bride-to-be, all the while with Queen Narissa trying to rid herself of this thorn in her side once and for all.
And that’s about as much as I can tell you without ruining the story, which you REALLY need to discover for yourself. This is the kind of movie that doesn’t come out very often. A satire on Disney films done by the masters themselves, who show that they aren’t ignorant of the silliness that surrounds their craft. But instead of just relying on cheap little laughs that are quickly forgotten, they’ve crafted a light-hearted but memorable drama that you can’t help but enjoy.
The acting is top-notch, from Adams’ amazing portrayal of Giselle to the perfect casting of little Rachel Covey, who has some of the best lines in the film. The characters are memorable and adorable, the lines are perfect, and the story is amazing. There are so many little moments, references, and lines to take in that it is just overwhelming, but the good, covered-up-with-fifteen-blankets-warm kind, including the strangest “clean the home” experience ever, the goofiest time of “slaying the dragon”, and one of the greatest musical numbers ever to grace Central Park.
All in all, I honestly have very little bad to say about this film. The only thing that I think could have been improved is Nancy, played by Idina Menzel of Wicked fame. I wish that they had really spent more time on her character, but in the end, you hardly notice her, which is both good and bad. It’s good in the fact that her character really is kind of secondary to the relationship between the main characters, but bad in that her acting and talent are actually pretty inconsequential to the story, as they really could have had just about anyone play that part.
Disney could have made a small little film that only relied on little gags to make it through, much like the parody films that have been recently gracing our cinemas. We all know how ”amazing” those films are. But instead, they “did it again”, showing that magic and heart are what make a family film work. That, and maybe a couple musical numbers that you’re sure to be humming as you smile your way out of the theater.
- Kyle
The Everlasting Ribbons of Highway
I’ve already said before that I love to drive. There’s just some kind of euphoria that comes to me while behind the wheel of a vehicle travelling at 85 mph, and I don’t think that kind of a drug is ever going to lose its high.
In any case, a little while ago, a couple friends and I went on a road trip to Hollywood to go see Wicked. (I know what you’re thinking – “AGAIN? What’s wrong with this guy?”) To be honest, though, the other two hadn’t seen it yet, and so I volunteered to drive, because I really wanted to see it again, too. If you haven’t read my praising review of the show yet, then I invite you to do so. (You can find it here.)
But despite my self-proclaimed love affair with the open road, I have to admit that this trip could have done with a bit more planning, and that we certainly paid for it tenfold over the course of our rather adventurous journey.
The first oversight was that we drove my car. Now, I have a well-maintained Honda that can easily take the mileage, and I have full trust in my car. However, it’s a standard, and despite my assumptions to the contrary, neither of my other passengers drive a stick. As such, I found myself driving nearly the entire trip, totalling out around 30+ hours behind the wheel. As much as I wish that it didn’t, the drive really did a number on me.
Just to illustrate, we drove straight to Hollywood, about a 12-hour trip, and right to the Pantages Theatre, all with maybe a one-hour rest in between at a family-member’s house along the way. That’s quite a drive, let me tell you. Even in the daytime, with two good friends to keep me company and to keep my mind occupied, I was pretty wiped out.
We did find a neat little tidbit through a contact at Pantages, though. Every night, the actors are alloted a certain number of tickets for family or friends that might be attending that night. However, these tickets usually go unused, and so they are raffled off to whoever is there at 6:00 that night. Front-row seats for $25 a pop. But if you’re not one of the lucky few, there’s no need to worry. Right afterwards, they put the remaining seats on sale for $45 a piece, and so we ended up sitting about 20 rows back, which are still pretty amazing seats.
Now, back to the trip.
We sort of slept through the next day until around noon, until we had a (at the time) brilliant idea. Considering that two of us are California natives, and both thrill-seeking enthusiasts, we figured that we’d spend our afternoon at Six Flags Magic Mountain. I have an awesome contact in LA who gets really good discounts on Cali’s theme parks, and so he helped guide us downtown, where he met us to give us the tickets. But then, due to a mix-up with directions, we missed to 405 turn-off, and realized we’d made a mistake when we saw the Thousand Oaks exit. Basically, we wasted about three hours just trying to get there, and so we pulled up around 5:00. We then decided it’d be a better idea to go the next day, considering that they close at six. (We did stop at In-N-Out, though, so I did feel a lot better about that.)
That’s kind of how the trip went for us. We’d get directions from someone, and they’d end up being unclear, or missing a crucial part, and we’d go off-track. And I mean really off track.
On the way home, we headed to Palmdale, trying to find the I-15 east, and weren’t sure which way to go. I mean, I had a vague idea, but since we took a different route coming in, I thought I’d check. But, after getting bad directions from a gas station trying to find the I-15 and ending up deep in Lancaster, I pulled off to fuel up and bought the one thing that we should have had the entire trip – a $5 road map. From there, we figured out where we were, plotted out our course, and we were on our way.
12 more hours of driving, and four or more Rockstars later, we finally made it back home. It was just one of those experiences that, while you’re in it, you don’t know if you’re really having fun or not. I mean, you are, but you realize the amount of work and hassle that it took to get there, and it crosses your mind whether it was worth it all. But then, you realize that these are the kinds of experiences that you only get to have at a certain time of your life. While you’re young and single, with no strings attached. I figure you’ve got to live life to the fullest, in every single stage of it, and so I’ll always look back on this cooky road trip and smile.
And that is most definitely worth 30 hours behind the wheel.
- Kyle
A Holiday Apology
It’s been a while since I put up a post, and most of that’s been because of the holiday season. You know how it is; family and friends… My blog kind of takes a back seat when it comes to my more important “obligations.” In any case, this is just a quick apology, and letting anyone who’s been checking this recently that I’ll be back in full swing by next week. See ya soon. – Kyle
