The Lack of a Mass Affect (Mass Effect 3)
[Minor Mass Effect and Dragon Age spoilers to follow, as well as a few movies for the sake of discussion. Just a a brief forewarning.]
I’ve been trying to figure out exactly what I want to say about this, especially considering how much this whole debacle has occupied my thoughts over the past week and a half.
After I got back from GDC, our school had its Spring Break. So, being that ME3 came out while I was in San Francisco, I took a couple days and decided that I was going to play through this game, and get the final conclusion to this amazing series that I’ve been following over the past five years.
Throughout my time in the world of Mass Effect, I’ve been with Shepard through some truly unbelievable moments. I was there when he destroyed the Thorian. I was there when he saved the final Rachnii from extinction. And I urged him to convince the Human Fleet to save the Council, even though they’ve continued to be unbelievable pricks to him all throughout his career. I watched him take on an “impossible” suicide mission and then live, destroying not his first, but his second Reaper in the process.
I’ve been there with Shepard, helping him to not only beat, but utterly defy the odds over and over again. Over five years, I’ve come to know what he would do. I’ve come to understand who he is as a character. When he comes to a situation, I know that he’ll try, at first, to find a compromise. But if that fails, I know that he’s more than willing to do things “the easy way,” making convincing arguments through the use of more “forceful” persuasion.
Shepard doesn’t back down. He doesn’t give up. No matter who says that something can’t be done, he not only believes that he can get it done, but has shown repeatedly that he’s able to convince others to go along with him, and then get it done. He doesn’t just defy the odds. He obliterates them, and sends them crying home to mommy after he’s beaten them to a pulp.
As such, this is the reason why I just can’t wrap my head around the ending of ME3. It doesn’t fit the character, it doesn’t fit the story, and it feels so completely out-of-place that I wonder if perhaps a writer jokingly added it to the end of the script, and no one seemed to notice.
Mass Effect 3 is a wonderful and amazing game. It’s got such unbelievable depth and engagement in the storytelling, skills which are difficult to utilize well, but powerful when wielded by master craftmen. The gameplay is solid. The narrative is told well, revealing things smartly, with twists, turns, and numerous difficult decisions that Shepard has to make along the way. To create a genuine sense of urgency and imminent destruction so capably is no short order.
But then, in the end, all of that comes to naught. And it’s not simply a “bad ending.” It’s an inappropriate ending. It’s a non-Bioware ending.
When I played Dragon Age: Origins several years ago, I loved it. Being my first foray into a Bioware game, I was impressed by how deeply I became engaged in that world. Alistair, Zevran, Shale, and Morrigan became not only avatars on the screen, but they became my friends, my travelling companions, enough so that when I found a mirror to replace the one Morrigan had lost so long ago, the ensuing response felt almost real.
That kind of connection to fictional characters is what makes a Bioware game worth playing. And so, when I took my Warden into the final battle, with a great army of races at my back (that I’d had to negotiate my way towards), I still realized that I may very well be heading straight into my death. But even so, I was okay with that. I realized that that was a possibility, and that was alright. I had my companions at my side, my forces were marshaled and ready to fight, and I was as prepared as I absolutely could be.
And when that ending came, I didn’t feel like my actions were worthless. Sure, some of my decisions led to some less-than desirable outcomes, but that was alright. The ending was something that was led towards. It worked because my character was guiding the tale, instead of the great “hand of the writer” suddenly forcing my character into a situation.
As someone who studies storytelling extensively, I was extremely annoyed by the ending of Mass Effect 3. It was an amazing journey that ended with a drop off of a cliff, with no further resolution. The climax was alluded to, built up to, and the player was ready for it. The showdown was set-up, and you knew that it was going to be good. And then… It didn’t happen. No final climax. No final battle pitting Shepard against the machines. Instead, there’s just a little choice where Shepard is forced to choose one of three undesirable choices when there are numerous other possibilities that he could take, which would actually be within his personality.
The ending of a character’s story, when crafted properly, should be determined by the actions that that character takes, and the personality that he has displayed. Batman in The Dark Knight was going to have to make a final sacrifice for the sake of Gotham, because that is the kind of character he is. You just knew that Stamper was going to stay behind on the asteroid in Armaggedon, because you could sense it. He had to. William Thatcher in A Knight’s Tale needed a way to face off with Alumar. It had to be in the jousting arena, and despite whatever tricks Alumar pulled, Thatcher was going to win, because that was just who he was.
Every story sets its own expectations, and Mass Effect is no exception to that. When I started up Mass Effect 3, I went in with the expectation that Shepard was probably going to die at the end of it. That just felt like how it should end. This was his greatest danger, his most difficult mission ever. How could he expect to make it though unscathed yet again?
But I also expected him to win. I expected him to be able to yet again defy the odds, and defeat his enemies, because he’s Shepard. He always finds a way, and that should have happened. It was the ending that sat as an unspoken promise to the player, and it wasn’t even partially fulfilled.
Recently, Bioware co-founder Ray Muzyka announced that the team is looking into fan response, and will reveal how they’re looking to address it next month. Good. To me, narrative is just like anything else in a game. If there’s a bug, you fix it. If there’s a feature that just doesn’t work, then you make it work. You patch it, or you replace it with something else. Game narrative is no different. If it doesn’t work, then you fix it. I don’t understand the whole “reverence” that people seem to have with narrative, treating it as some kind of holy thing that should never be altered.
It’s got nuts and bolts just like anything else. Sure, it’s creative, but it’s not some mystical process, nor are its creators infallible. It goes through iterations, it’s changed, altered, retconned, and reshaped over and over, even in each individual telling. (But I’ve gone on long enough.)
I’ll just end with this. I’m happy that this is being reexamined. Some may decry the “precedent” that this creates, with fans suddenly deciding how things are going to end. The thing is, I see this as a stepping stone. I see this as a precedent that perhaps developers will take more care in how they craft their stories. Perhaps game narrative will be treated with more respect than simply cutscenes in-between the action parts.
We’ll see. Talk to you soon.
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.
updating – story structure
I’ve received a number of comments from people in the past about the 8-Part Story Structure posts, either that it’s too hard to find the next post, or that I never finished the series. I’ll admit that I got a little caught up, and didn’t get a chance to fix them, but I’m going to try to remedy that, and hopefully have the series done by the end of the year.
(I’d try for something more ambitious, but until someone starts paying me to do this, I’ve got other things that I need to get done that have a little higher priority, unfortunately. )
I’ve added links at the bottom of each post, starting with the post “Introduction”, also linking from the Unfocused site for people who have found it on a search engine. Hopefully, that makes the series a little easier to navigate.
So, keep an eye out for sequence four, coming out as soon as I can.
- Karratti
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
Imagined Scenes
Sometimes, when I’m sitting at Taco Bell, or maybe when I’m waiting in line at the grocery store, my mind will start to wander a little bit. (And I’m sure that no one else has this problem, right?) For some reason, I suddenly visualize movie scenes, of running into someone at this random place, whose path and mine were destined to cross. Sometimes it’s a potential date, sometimes it’s an ally, sometimes it’s an enemy.
I’ll be standing there, just loading my groceries onto the counter, the teenage, thin, glasses-wearing male clerk waits behind the register, and then starts to beep in my purchases with his little red light. Suddenly another cart crashes into mine, sending me stumbling to the floor. I look up, and see a malicious grin bearing down on me from behind a cartful of protien powder and raw steaks.
“Mr. Brogan,” says the man, his height and girth easily doubling mine. “I want something from you.”
I scramble to my feet, and look him in the eye. “And what’s that?” I say with all the nerve that I can muster.
“Your pin number.” He says quietly, with a voice of low thunder.
“Huh?” I say.
“You have to put in your pin,” says the cashier, a little annoyed at my stupidity. I nod, type it in, take the reciept, and pick up my bagged groceries, heading for my car.
As soon as I open the door, though, I hear the squeal of tires. I look to my left to see a car barreling through the parking lot, speed rising. Right in front of me, though, is a woman, directly in the path of the car. I tackle her out of the way as the car misses us by inches, spilling my milk and eggs onto the sidewalk.
The car spins around, intending to finish the job, but I lift one of the carts above my head and throw it through the windshield, sending the car crashing into a lightpole. The woman praises me as her hero, and I say simply, “All in a day’s work, ma’am.”
Then I shrug, and pick-up my groceries, and load them into my car. The drive home is a car chase yet again, or perhaps a secret mission to get my groceries, which actually contain information that could compromise the security of the entire nation, to my home, where I can transmit them to the NSA without detection.
I don’t know. I know I have an overactive imagination. Perhaps that’s why it’s best for me to stick to writing. But all that inspiration has to come from somewhere, right?
- Kyle
Dan In Real Life
I prefer to go into films without knowing very much about them. I helps me to judge them a little more fairly than if I had any “previous biases.”
With that in mind, I went and saw Dan in Real Life this past weekend with a friend of mine, with the only thing that I knew about it being Steve Carell’s role as the main character. I’ll tell you right now that I recommend this movie. It’s really one of the best films that I’ve seen in quite some time.
Carell plays Dan Burns, an advice columnist for a local paper, who is struggling as a single parent to raise his three daughters after the death of his wife four years ago. He and his family are on their way to the family reunion in Rhode Island, at a family cabin. It’s obvious that Dan a break from his daughters, and that his daughters need a small break for him, and so Dan’s mother (Dianne West) sends him out to get the newspapers.
At the local bookstore, Dan inadvertantly meets Marie (Juliette Binoche), and the two strike up a great conversation. It’s obvious that Dan is interested, and Marie as well, but the “date” suddenly ends as Marie gets a phone call wondering why she’s late. Dan is able to get her phone number, however, and elatedly tells about his little adventure as he arrives back at the cabin.
Dan is wordless, however, when his brother Mitch (Dane Cook) introduces his new girlfriend to everyone, and she just so happens to be Annie “Marie”, the same woman Dan had met at the bookstore! This sets the stage for some of the most interesting, hilarious, and heart-touching scenes ever filmed.
Carell is amazing. I’d seen him The Office, as well as Bruce Almighty, Anchorman, and even Evan Almighty, but I don’t think I ever fully realized his full acting scope. He has an earnest quality in him that you can just easily relate to. He’s stuck in a situation where the woman that he’s fallen for is with someone else, and that someone else just so happens to be his brother. He’s struggling to raise his daughters without a mother, all the while just striving to keep himself afloat. You just feel for him, and you want him to succeed, despite his own failings.
Binoche, as Marie, plays the part so well. She’s an easily likable character that you can easily see either of these brothers falling in love with. With the situations that they get into, its amazing how she can pull off not only the poise of a smart and sophisticated woman, but also the easy-going personality of a human being who can appreciate the absurdity of each situation. (Think about the “shower scene”, and you’ll know exactly what I’m talking about.)
I could go on and on about each of the characters, but the bottom line is, you have to see this movie. Your personality needs it, and your heart needs it. This is a film that will make you laugh, at least make you want to cry, and will help you to look at love in a whole new way. And who knows? Maybe you’ll know your soulmate’s identity in just three days.
- Kyle
The Office
Last weekend, I was working on a project that took a lot of hand-work, but not a ton of head-work, and so I borrowed Seasons Two and Three of The Office from a buddy of mine. I’d seen a couple different episodes before, but my friend insisted that I watch them, and since I’m going to be working on a similar project soon, I kind of needed to “get into the mindset.” I’ll tell you right now that I haven’t laughed so hard in a really, really long time.
There’s plenty of other places where you could go to find out what the office is all about, but my personal opinion is that it is one of the most clever and well-written shows on television today. Yeah, it can be a little irreverent at times, but Steve Carell leads a cast of the most unique and interesting characters ever conceived, and the mixture is just absolutely hilarious, and extremely memorable. You won’t forget any of these people.
I think what the office really has is a staying power that really makes you just want more. Because these are characters that have depth, and aren’t just a group of random people on a sitcom, you actually start to care about them. It’s hard to fully describe, but there’s a richness to the characterization as well as the writing that really pulls you in. I found myself just watching episode after episode, because I just couldn’t get enough of it all.
From the pranks that Jim pulls on Dwight, to Michael’s overall delusiveness, and the Jim/Pam romantic tension that has just continued to pull you in in every episode, this is an excellent achievement. Sure, there were outcries from fans of the “true” BBC version, but you know what? Who cares? It’s all about making entertaining television, and I definitely commend and recommend the American version. Now, all I’ve got is one more episode and I’m on track.
- Kyle
New Film in the Pipeline – The Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian
According to IMDB.com, the sequel to The Chronicles of Narnia is due for release in May 2008. I really liked the first film and that it was pretty good. In any case here’s the synopsis so far from the site:
“A year after their first adventure in Narnia, Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy are pulled back in by Susan’s magic horn. They find that hundreds of years have passed, and Narnia is now ruled by the bloodthirsty General Miraz, uncle to the true heir, Prince Caspian, now in exile. Now the children must find Caspian and help him depose Miraz…but how will they get home after it’s done?”
I liked the first book, as well as the first movie, but I never went any further with the series, so I’m hoping as much care and craft is taken to put together this new one. But usually, most Disney sequels that go to theatres are pretty good, so I’m hopeful that this is going to be a worthwhile film. We’ll see, eh? Cool stuff.
- Kyle
Online Writing Forums
I’ve written at Hatrack.com since about November 2001, which makes it just barely six years. In that time, I’ve learned more about characterization, about storytelling, about descriptions, and about writing in general than in any other writing, English, or screenwriting class I’ve ever taken, combined. I would recommend to any aspiring writer, that they find a place like this that’s active and moving, and dive into it. Some may say it’s a waste of time, but I promise you that you’ll learn quickly the difference between good writing, and what it takes, and the mediocre garbage that floats all over the bookshelves.
One of the things that online forums force you to do is to actually write. Usually these kinds of forums get you into a cetain genre or universe, ranging from fantasy or sci-fi, to even cyberpunk and just plain modern worlds. Some are extremely well evolved, the details of the universe really nailed down. Others are more open, which will allow you a little more breathing room so you can stretch your imagination a little bit. In any case, each will offer unique challenges and opportunities.
A chief problem among aspiring writers is trying to decide what to write about. Who to write about. What is the story that you want to tell? Well, these kinds of forums are a great place to practice, because you can focus exclusively on characterization and description without wondering where the story is really going. You just have to jump into a conversation by portraying a role-play.
The first thing that you need to remember, however, is that your goal is not to act out a part. You should be writing with the goal of writing a story in mind. Unless the forum is already set, I’d recommend using a third-person limited viewpoint, which is the easiest. You can describe the things around your character, you can explain her thoughts, and you can also be fairly ambiguous when it comes to describing the other characters, because they aren’t your responsibility.
In any case, that’s my recommendation. In my pages section, you can also look through the article, “Spare Me the Chatter,” which I wrote a couple years ago for the online forum, Avidgamers.com. It talks a lot about the best way to write in a writing forum, as I see it. But for other tips and tricks, I’d recommend Hatrack.com, which I see as the best place to learn from talented writers who are still willing to help out the new guy.
In any case, good luck with the writing!
- Kyle
Bee Movie
The commercials for Seinfeld’s new film seemed pretty interesting. If you haven’t seen the previews of Jerry and Chris Rock on the windshield in bug costumes, I recommend that you head over to Apple.com and check them out. They’re absolutely hilarious, and so I thought it’d be interesting enough to at least give it a chance.
So, I went over to the theatre to check out Jerry Seinfeld’s newest foray, Bee Movie. Let me tell you right off – this is a film meant to imitate the style of Pixar™, the wit of Dreamworks™, and the likability of Disney™. And on that note, let’s discuss why there were three strikes even before the first act was over.
From the beginning, we meet Barry B. Benson (Jerry Seinfeld), a bee in a hive who is, (surprise, surprise), unsure that he wants to fit in with the rest of the hive. He just isn’t sure that he wants to live the bee life, working every day until he dies. He’s portrayed as a dreamer, but with the deadpan and cynicality that only Seinfeld can portray.
Now the number one rule that the bees live by is that they are not supposed to talk to humans. It’s “Bee Law”. Which, of course, means it’s the set-up for the entire movie. The thing is, though, is that we’re hammered with it right off, and repeatedly so, enough that I wanted to say out loud, “Okay, we get it! He’s not supposed to talk to humans!”
So, on a venture with the “Pollen Jocks” into the outside world, he accidentally finds himself in a near-death experience under a human’s boot. But, he’s saved by a good-natured florist named Vanessa (Renée Zellweger), and placed outside of the apartment window. He agonizes over this, until he finally decides that he’s going to thank her. So starts this relationship as Barry and Vanessa become friends.
As time goes on, Barry finds out that the humans are “stealing” the honey from the bees, keeping them smoked in honey farms, and taking the honey from them. So what does he do? He decides that he’s going to file a lawsuit against the human race. Through a crazy amount of theatrics by both Barry and the opposing attorney (John Goodman), the jury finds in favor of the bees.
But then, after the bees stop working, apparently all of the world falls to their knees because nothing will grow without the bees’ pollinating. So, Barry and Vanessa have to fly to the Pasadena Rose Bowl parade, steal a float, transport it back by plane, and then get the pollen to New York. (Which is just ridiculous, because if they’d been thinking, they’d just have transported the bees all to California and just started the pollination there. But then you wouldn’t have a ridiculous scene with a florist trying to land a plane, and whole bunch of bees coming in to fly under it and save the day.)
And the magical pollen suddenly brings life to the whole world, and everything’s instantly happy again.
The whole thing is supposed to be fictional, and I understand it. But even fictional worlds are supposed to have rules. When anything can and does happen, it just becomes surreal, and you no longer care about the story. First you have a bee that can talk to humans. Fine. Then he can read, he becomes a lawyer, representing all of “bee kind.” He just lives this whirlwind adventure with no crime or consequence, and there’s no real repercussions for him at all in all that he does. Sure, he kills the world, but because bees are so amazing, they can fix it all in a second.
The weirdest thing is, though, is the characters themselves. They try to portray this sort of romantic tension between Barry and Vanessa, and it’s just plain ridiculous. I mean, okay, he’s a talking bee, but my goodness. She’d have to be the most ditsy person in the world to think that this was actually going anywhere. Then you have this Ken character (Patrick Warburton), who is supposed to be there for comic relief, but is really just a complete idiot. Barry’s so-called best friend, Adam (Matthew Broderick), gets only superficial screentime, but he too is just a one-sided character. And then you’ve got the token appearance of Chris Rock as Mooseblood the mosquito, who’s only purpose as a character comes about as a lame overtold joke about attorneys.
The whole movie was just a power-packed plunge that didn’t nearly live up to its potential. It was a cliché-ridden ride that I was only too-happy to get off of. I think that Seinfeld should stick to movie trailers, because that’s where his really talent lies: Short, witty bursts of emotion and cynicism. My advice? Stick with what works, because Bee Movie is most definitely living up to its punny namesake.
- Kyle
Homestar Runner
This has got to be about the most well-known flash animation in the world. In addition, it’s definitely the most clever. To be able to put together a website that is all about a cartoon, and then to make money off of it… How much more clever could you be?
For those of you who’ve been living under a rock, and haven’t seen the t-shirts, stickers, satchel bags or even the website, here’s a quick summary. Homestar Runner was created in 1996 by Mike Chapman and Craig Zobel, two students at the University of Georgia. (On another note, why is it that all the interesting things are created in college? Facebook was created there, too…)
It started out as just a kids’ book, but then through the use of Mario Paint™, was created into its first cartoon incarnation. As they started to learn Adobe Flash™, the brothers found the old book they’d created, and by the beginning of 2000, homestarrunner.com was up and running. They did the voices themselves, with the help of a friend, Missy Palmer, for the voice of Marzipan.
Fast forward to now, and you’ve got a site that averages several million hits a day, has been featured in a whole slew of magazines, and that has its own product line. The songs from the site have even been featured in Guitar Hero™. I mean, this is one freaking awesome pop-culture icon! You’ve got all these original characters, from Homestar himself, to Strong Bad, Strong Sad, Marzipan, The Cheat, Coach Z, Bubs, Pom-Pom, and several more.
I was introduced to the site in 2003, by one of my college instructors. He showed us one of the Strong Bad emails every day, I used to just laugh and laugh. Now, I still check it every once in a while, just to see if there’s something new up. Thing is, I still see people with shirts and hats and bookbags… Someday, I hope I might create something that cool. Something that really hits into the vein of viral advertising. Someday. Someday.
- Kyle
Viewtiful Joe
Yesterday I was walking through the mall, and stopped by GameStop. Now, I’ve been a gamer for who knows how long, but I’d like to think that I’ve tempered my “obsession” over the past few years. I have yet to get on the whole “next-gen console” craze, and so I only own a Playstation 2. But don’t let that fool you into thinking that I’m not a gamer. It’s just that I’m not done with the good games of yesteryear yet.
In any case, as I was browsing through the old PS2 titles, especially the used games that were in the “$9.99 or less” rack, I came across a game that I had played when I was in high school over five years ago. It was called Viewtiful Joe. It looked liked it was in pretty good shape, and for $5.99, I figured it would be worth a play. I mean, a rental at Blockbuster is around seven bucks anyway, so I figured if I didn’t like it, at least I could trade it in for something else later.
That night, after my last class, I put the disc into the system, and was immediately blown away. Not exactly by the graphics, because though they were unique, they were about as far from “realistic” as possible. It was a very cel-shaded look, akin to the style of The Legend of Zelda: The Wind Waker. To me, it looked as if the characters had been pulled right from a comic book. All the proportions were cartoony, from the big heads and small bodies to the accompanying “SMACK” and “POW” feel of hitting your enemies.
And this isn’t a 3D game, though you’d really be hard-pressed to notice. This is a side-scrolling, fast-paced brawler akin to Double Dragon on thirteen double-latte cappuccinos. The action is fast, furious, and sucks you right in, even if it does get a little too wild for me to handle at times. (I mean, there are moments when there are over thirty little baddies all over the screen, and I’m just struggling to keep the hero alive.
But it’s the unique, tongue-in-cheek story that really sets this game apart from the crowd. We’re introduced right off to Joe, just an average movie-loving guy, and his girlfriend, Silvia, who clearly doesn’t want to spend her date night at the movie theater, again. But, just as Captain Blue, Joe’s favorite superhero, falls to the the movie’s antagonist, Joe is busy trying to get Silvia to take the film more seriously.
Then, as cheesy as it may sound, the antagonist reaches through the screen, kidnaps Silvia, and takes her back into movieland. Joe, the wisecracking little film nut that he is, gets pulled right in, and ends up entrusted with a superhero “V-Watch”, courtesy of Captain Blue’s “essence”. As soon as you can say “Henshin-a-go-go, baby”, Joe is off to defeat the Jadow, the group of villians who have kidnapped Silvia, and get his girlfriend back.
Now, I never played the game all the way through, and I’m only on the beginning stages, but man am I having a great time with it. More games need to be given the care and time and creativity that I’m sure this one was given. There are countless references to pop-culture, especially old movies and video games. The entire story is riddled with little jokes and references, along with the constant barrage of Joe’s personal dialogue.
So, if you’re up for some laughs, and want to get lost in one of the best Playstation 2 games every made, or even, one of the best games ever made, period, see if you can track down a copy of Viewtiful Joe.
- Kyle
Sydney White
I love watching movies. (Now let’s hear a collective “duh” from everyone.) Something that has always bothered me, though, is that theaters tend to only show the “popular” or seemingly “well-advertised” films, in order to guarantee a large initial audience, regardless of whether the film is actually worthwhile or not. I remember walking into the theater, and looking to buy tickets to Ressurecting the Champ, which I’ve read some really great reviews for, but it wasn’t shown anywhere near my zip code. The same could be said for King of Kong: A Fistful of Quarters, or a number of other films with original thought.
But every once and a while a film will be released quietly, and sheer word-of-mouth will help to spread it. It happened a few years ago with the classic My Big Fat Greek Wedding, where it was only shown in a few selected theaters, and the sheer unique nature of Tom Hanks’ film allowed it to generate quite a following. (And I still wonder if Windex sales were affected by it.)
Recently, I read a review about a film called Sydney White, explaining that it was just such a film. I searched throughout my area, and there was no showings, and I feared I might miss yet another interesting piece. But I was able to find a single screening about 30 minutes up the freeway at 6:50 PM, which was one of the most awkward times to hit a movie. Regardless, I’m glad that I took the time because this movie was definitely worth the effort.
Amanda Bynes (Hairspray) is Sydney White, a tomboyish college freshman who was raised by her father, a plumber, and the construction crew that he works with. As such, she has a much more practical view of life, especially compared to the social ladder-focus of her peers. Through a wonderful turn of events, though, she earns a scholarship to the same university that her mother attended, leaving a legacy at Kappa Phi Nu, the most popular sorority on campus for her daughter Sydney to follow.
Through a twist of events, however, she denounces the sorority, and is taken in by a lovable group of seven guys who are by all definitions of the words, dorks. Each unique and memorable in his own way, you’ll quickly draw the parallels in this adaptation of the classic tale, Snow White, as Sydney and her friends attempt to usurp the control that the “greek society”, led by Rachel Witchburn (I wonder who she could be?), has on the campus.
While it’s obvious that the filmmakers drew much of their inspiration from the Disney version, as opposed to the Grimms’ version, the references do nothing but enhance an already robust and well-written story. (Besides, its so interesting and fun how the writers used each reference.)
Bynes does an amazing job as Sydney, playing the part of the lovable tomboy so well that you can’t help but like her. There was one part of the film where Sydney is talking with Tyler Prince, (again, can you figure out who this character is?), and the subject turns to sports. Where most girls would have been lost in such a conversation, Sydney knows the subject intimately, and makes an obscure reference. Immediately, Tyler’s eyes widen, and he exclaims, “Marry me.” I’d have to agree.
It’s kind of hard to explain what exactly it was about the film that I loved so much. Each of the characters was played so well, they were unique and interesting, and the dialogue and one-liners were simply amazing. I don’t know if you’ll always be able to find it, but if you can, I encourage you to definitely track down Sydney White.
- Kyle
Wicked
A couple weeks ago, I went down to Hollywood and saw the musical Wicked at the Pantages Theater. For those of you haven’t seen it, I’ll tell you right now that you should save up some money and go as soon as you possibly can. To be perfectly honest, I’d go again and see it in a second if I had the chance – it’s that good.
The story is about the “behind-the-scenes” look at the characters of L. Frank Baum’s novel, The Wizard of Oz, especially the good witch Glinda, and the Wicked Witch of the West. For someone like me, going in with only the film as a reference, it was infinitely accessable, but also really makes you reconsider the entire story. You come to understand why The Wicked Witch of the West is so obsessed with the ruby slippers, the origins of the scarecrow, the tin man, and the cowardly lion, and the “true” tale of what happened all during the time that Dorothy was prancing along the yellow brick road to the Emerald City.
Not for a long time have I been so inspired by a play. From the very beginning, you’re interested in the history of this person that you’ve always known as simply the Wicked Witch. She’s introduced as Elphaba, the abnormally green-skinned student at Shiz (the school of Oz), who plays opposite of Galinda, the blonde haired, bubble gum-popping, most popular girl in school. Other characters include the handsome slacker, Fiyero, Elphaba’s younger sister, Nessarose, the shy but servicable munchkin, Boq, the school’s headmaster, Madame Morrible, and of course, the infamous Wizard of Oz himself.
(For those of you who want to read the whole story, I’ve included it on the site on the page “The Story of Wicked” to the right. Therefore, I won’t include it here in this post.)
As I said before, it’s been a long time before I was so pulled into a story. I remember becoming caught up in the world of the story, the music and the characters. From the most amazing sets, to excellent costuming, it was a visual smorgasbord of sights and visuals. Then there was the music. The songs that have touched the hearts of so many, from the effervescent “Popular”, to the smooth-sighted “Dancing Through Life”, and to the breathtaking “Defy Gravity”; each one caused a myriad of emotions. Highs and lows that anyone could relate to pulsed through the theater, and the live orchestra really did their job. And the vocals! It was just such an amazing display of musical power, that truly pulled you in and kept you there. I lost all track of time, and nowhere did I find myself wandering.
I’ve always found that the quality of a story can be measured by how “into” the performance I am. If I have to muscle my way through a book, I know that I’m not enjoying it. If I’m looking forward to the end of a movie, then I know it’s not done right. But if I’m still longing for more after the final curtain falls, then I know that this is something truly spectacular.
Some guys think of musicals, or even plays in general, as “wimpy” or “feminine.” They have the same attitude concerning love stories, or even stories with any measure of quality aside from fast cars and big explosions. For me, to label a film or any kind of entertainment as such limits your ability to appreciate the world around you. Wicked was most definitely a quality show, and I’d recommend it to anyone.
It’s a story that anyone can really relate to. Young children are able to see the “real” side of the Wicked Witch. Teenagers can easily relate to the plights of Elphaba as she struggles to fit in with her peers. You can see the twists that “government” might impose on the public for the good of the few. The way that society’s view is so heavily influenced by the opinions of a few individuals in “authority” is addressed. And you might even consider the answer to the story’s tagline: “Are people born Wicked? Or do they have Wickedness thrust upon them?”
I could go on. There are so many different levels to the show that I could elaborate more and more. But for the sake of space, I’ll just say that this is definitely one of the most amazing stories ever told, and I’m on my way to go find the books. And for anyone with a heart, go and have yours touched by a modern classic.
- Kyle
Nickelodeon Classics
As I was surfing on the web the other day, I kept trying to find some old TV episodes for sale on DVD. I remember, back during my childhood, watching some of the most interesting shows ever. I’ve complained a little about the quality of cartoons now, but I can recall some classic shows, especially on networks like Nickelodeon, that you just don’t see anymore.
For example, does anyone remember Doug? How about Hey Dude? Or maybe Salute Your Shorts, or My Brother and Me, or Are You Afraid of the Dark? These were shows that I used to watch all the time when I was a kid, and to compare them to today’s “kid fare” is just unfair. These were classic shows that were entertaining, usually quite clever, very kid-oriented, but not just a mishmosh of flashy animation, some CG wizardry, and cliché dialogue.
The most interesting part was that often times, they even had… (hold your breath) …values! They would actually have a lesson hidden amongst the humor and hijinks. Honesty, integrity, loyalty, and friendship were actually shown to be good things, as opposed to just ways of manipulating people. There were unique characters that had unique personalities, and whose actions actually had consequences that they had to deal with. We watched as these characters dealt with the pressures of life, including acceptance, vanity, family and peers. And we actually cared!
Well, after searching, I stumbled across a site called nickclassics.com. I don’t know where the company is based, or what they do, exactly, but they’ve managed to find and format every episode of the seasons of “The Golden Age of Nickelodeon.” These DVD sets include a good number of classic shows that most any child of the 90′s television age would recognize. As for me, I’ve already ordered the Doug DVD set. (It was always one of my favorites.) I’m pretty excited.
- LATER EDIT – I got the DVDs, and they’re great! Broadcast quality, pulled right off the TV. Fun stuff.
- Kyle
Off The Lot – Bad Ideas
I was talking with a number of film majors the other day, about a short film project that we’re working on, and I happened to mention one of the films from Fox’s “On The Lot.” I was kind of surprised when most of them told me that they’d never heard of it before. Pulling out my handy-dandy notebook computer, I pulled up onthelot.com to show them.
Imagine my personal surprise when the site with so much good video footage and quality short film examples was completely gone, except for a splash page that says “Congratulations to Will Bigham”, the winner of the show’s contest. I’ve since turned to VeohTV to download as many of the films as I can track down, but I still can’t find all of the ones that I liked.
Why would Fox make such a stupid move? They were generating business, advertising, and good filmmaking just by providing these kinds of quality examples. And in a puff of smoke, poof! It’s all gone.
For those of you who haven’t a clue what I’m talking about, On The Lot was a reality-based competition along the same lines as American Idol, So You Think You Can Dance?, and other similar shows. In a basic episode, three filmmakers would be called to the front to show their short films (generally no longer than three minutes), and then the judges would say what they liked, what they didn’t like, etc.
The judges consisted of Carrie Fisher, of Star Wars fame, the long-time laugh man, Garry Marshall, and usually a guest judge, who was often a highly-regarded director, such as Michael Bay, David Frankel, or Wes Craven. Viewers would vote on the films of the week, deciding the fate of the filmmakers as they went through the competition, and the winner would recieve a million-dollar development deal with Dreamworks Studios.
It was an interesting premise, and I actually liked the films themselves, though I could have really cared less about the actual directors. There were some truly interesting things in there, and some amazing ideas and unique concepts that were just amazing to watch.
If Fox was smart, they’d edit together a DVD of all the films of the first season, and strike while the iron’s still warm. I know I’d pick up a copy. Until then, though, I guess I’ll just keep looking on Veoh.
- Kyle
