John Wick has become one of the most influential action films of the past 10-15 years. Besides spawning three sequels and a spin-off (Ballerina), its producer David Leitch has become a well known action director with films like Atomic Blonde and Bullet Train. Their combination of heavily choreographed action, focus on style and production design, and use of A-List stars (Keanu Reeves, Charlize Theron, Brad Pitt, Ana de Armas) in what have often been considered “B-movies” has influenced much of our expectations for contemporary action-oriented movies. Of course, we don’t tend to watch these movies for complex characters or intricate plots, yet even the narrative structure of a movie like John Wick has a lot to teach us.

As always, these breakdowns contain SPOILERS, and are only recommended if you've already seen the movie. You can check my introduction to these breakdowns, to get an overview of my process and philosophy.

Feel free to let me know what you think in the comments below!

The Basics

Director: Chad Stahelski
Writers: Derek Kolstad
Release Date: 2014
Runtime: 101 Minutes
IMDB: https://www.imdb.com/title/tt2911666/?ref 

Movie Level Goals

Protagonist: John Wick
External: Get revenge on the Tarasovs for his dog and car
SUCCESS | FAILURE | MIXED
Internal Goal: None
Motivation: To avenge the death of his dog
Goal Relationship: None

Three Observations

Observation #1: Internal Goal vs. Motivation

The characters in action thriller crime films don’t tend to have complex emotional lives, and we obviously don’t watch movies like John Wick for complex interpersonal drama. At the same time, even in contemporary genre movies we do expect to care about our protagonists, and perhaps more importantly, they need to have reasons for becoming involved in the fights, chases, and shoot-outs we love to watch in these movies. This brings us to a tricky division: the line between an internal goal and motivation. As you might have noted above, I’ve given our protagonist John Wick motivation (getting revenge for the death of his dog), but no internal goal. But couldn’t revenge for the death of his dog be an internal goal rather than simple motivation? After all, we generally link success of external and internal goals together, so we could easily say that John succeeds at his external goal of killing Iosef and Viggo, which leads to the success of his internal goal of getting revenge for the death of his dog. Additionally, motivation is internal isn’t it? The answer to all this—it’s complicated. The line between internal goals and motivation is thin, but I generally apply two tests:

1. Does the this internal state lead to a change in the character? Generally an internal goal is something that leads to internal conflict in the character, and they must change something about who they are internally in order to change as a person (usually in the form of growth). Sometimes characters are quite aware of this need, sometimes they slowly discover it, and sometimes they are barely aware of it. Examples might be overcoming grief, overcoming fear, believing in themselves or gaining self-confidence, loving themselves or receiving love, etc. On the other hand, motivation does not usually lead to internal change for the character. Their external circumstances may change as a result of their motivation leading to a successful outcome, but the character remains largely the same. Revenge is one of the most common motivators in film (especially action), but it rarely leads to internal change for the protagonist. John Wick successfully gets revenge for the death of his dog (which was given to him by his now dead wife), but having killed Iosef and Viggo, John’s grief over the loss of his wife and dog is not alleviated. Motivation sets the chain of action in motion, but rarely changes the internal life of the character.

2. Can we have a stand-alone scene that is just about this internal state that isn’t also about the external goal? With internal goals, the answer is yes. Characters can pursue an internal goal through talking about it or taking action on it. They can be involved in scenes that only address their internal goals: overcoming grief or fear, believing in themselves, loving themselves, etc. And these scenes can have nothing to do with the external goal. Motivation on the other hand is always inextricably tied to the external goal. Any scene that involves John pursuing revenge also involves him trying to kill Iosef and Viggo. He could have a scene where he talks about missing the puppy. But the moment he states that he wants revenge for his loss, he’s talking about his external goal as well. Motivation and external goals are always two sides of the same coin.

Observation #2: The Act 2 Midpoint!

If you know the history of act structure in Hollywood movies, you know that the popularization of three-act structure can be traced back primarily to Syd Field’s 1979 book Screenplay: The Foundation of Screenwriting. He certainly did not invent three-act structure—screenwriting manuals written well before his discuss three-act structure. But the popularity of his book certainly propelled the idea into the consciousness of screenwriters, director, producers, and even film fans. The derivation of the three-act structure is simple and old—it goes back to Aristotle’s observation in the Poetics that every play has a beginning, middle, and end. There’s a lot we could say about basing Hollywood film structure on the work of Aristotle, but that’s not the main point here.

After three-act structure became popularized many people began to question one of its foundational tenets—that the opening and closing acts were approximately 30 minutes long, and the middle was everything leftover, no matter how long—a typical 2-hour movie would have a 60-minute second act. This long Act 2 became a major obstacle—how could you fill 60 minutes with action and conflict without any change of direction or goal? To answer this, Field later introduced the idea of a mid-point, which divided the long Act 2 in half. Of course, you can guess what happened next—other screenwriting experts proposed that many movies have four acts rather than three—or more accurately that acts were balanced sections of around 30-minutes, and that depending on the length of of the movie, it might be three, four, five acts or more. If you’ve read any of my other breakdowns or my introduction to breakdowns, you know I subscribe to this approach. So, why I have said that John Wick has three acts with a midpoint, rather than going with the obvious answer that it has four acts?

Again, there are two primary answers:

1. The total length of Act 2 is 45 minutes. Long for one act, short for two. If we divided Act 2 into two acts around the midpoint, we’d have a 23-minute act and a 22-minute act. These would both be on the short side, but certainly not unheard of. In fact, you probably noticed that Act 3 itself is only 18 minutes long. Nevertheless, 45 minutes creates an indeterminate section that could in essence go either way. I chose to keep it unified as one act, and the reason is found in answer two:

2. When Syd Field first defined acts he tended to define them as units that resulted in a change or turning point in the movie. This might be a decent description of most act climaxes or ends, but what defines the start of an act? The answer, as many of my posts detail (as does the Introduction to Breakdowns) is the protagonist’s goal. With the occasional exception of Act 1, each act (or sequence) is defined by the protagonist’s goal, and the climax is the success or failure of that goal. Here’s where John Wick’s 45-minute Act 2 gets interesting. John’s Act 2 goal is to kill Iosef. At the 55 minute mark, in the extended shoot-out at the Red Circle, John fails to kill Iosef. He’s failed at his Act 2 goal—so far so good. Usually, when characters fail at a goal, they have to give it up and move on to a new goal or a new formulation of the goal. But in John Wick, after the 55-minute mark, John’s goal is the same—to kill Iosef. And 22 minutes later, at the 77-minute mark, he does just that. If we break Act 2 into two acts around the midpoint, we need to answer a critical question—what would the new “Act 3” goal be? If an act is defined by a new goal, then we can’t really call the 22 minutes after the midpoint a new act. But with a 45 minute length, and a climactic moment halfway through, it makes perfect sense to see Act 2 as one act with a midpoint.

Observation #3: The Short Act 3

With two pretty long observations, I thought it best to keep this one short, just like Act 3. At 18 minutes, Act 3 is about as short as an act can be (in fact I’ve done breakdowns of movies with sequences that were the same length). So, yes 18 minutes for an act is short. But it still works as a self-contained act. First, it has a unique goal—for John to kill Viggo. Second, final acts are often the shortest. Unlike the earlier acts, final acts generally don’t introduce new characters, new subplots, new conflicts, etc. Their main function is to have the protagonist finally and directly pursue their movie level goal, which of course John does in Act 3. Third, and finally, action movies in particular (especially smaller scale movies based on crime—versus large scale Marvel style movies) often have very tight final acts, because the pursuit of a final goal is especially simple—kill the bad guy. This rarely needs much elaboration, planning, or extended detail, and rarely involves an extended resolution after the climax. Once the final act starts, the audience’s expectation is for the protagonist and antagonist to meet. So, John’s pursuit of revenge climaxes in a showdown with Viggo. John kills Viggo and the movie is over. Short and sweet, just like this final observation.

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During the 2010’s, Nicolas Winding Refn became one of cinema’s foremost stylists (Only God Forgives, Neon Demon, Too Old To Die Young). Often his visual style overpowers the narrative, and he can be accused of embracing style over substance (though I’m a fan of pretty much all his work). His most well-known and accessible film, Drive (starring the amazing cast of Ryan Gosling, Carey Mulligan, Oscar Isaac, Bryan Cranston, Albert Brooks, Ron Perlman, and Christina Hendricks) manages to not only be visually compelling but also structurally and narratively compelling, create an incredibly precise structure that drives a romantic-action film to something much more lofty than its genre foundation.

As always, these breakdowns contain SPOILERS, and are only recommended if you've already seen the movie. You can check my introduction to these breakdowns, to get an overview of my process and philosophy.

Feel free to let me know what you think in the comments below!

The Basics

Director: Nicolas Winding Refn
Writers: Hossein Amini, James Sallis
Release Date: 2011
Runtime: 100 Minutes
IMDB: https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0780504/?ref 

Movie Level Goals

Protagonist: The Driver
External: To protect Irene
SUCCESS | FAILURE | MIXED
Internal Goal: To find meaning in life through love
SUCCESS | FAILURE | MIXED
Goal Relationship: External Goal leads to Internal Goal

Three Observations

Observation #1: Nine Sequence, Three Act Structure

Drive has a unique and distinct structure which is relatively rare. While there are other movies that have a balanced Act/Sequence structure (both acts and sequences, with the same number of sequences in each act), it’s especially rare in a three-act 90-minute movie. The first challenge of any nested sequence within acts structure is that the goals of each sequence have to be oriented to the larger goal of that act. Generally, act structure allows for a looser structure with room for more plot lines and shifts in alignment. Conversely, sequences allow for a tighter cause and effect chain with more action and a tighter story, but limiting plot lines and shifts in alignment. Combining the two generally means sacrificing the looser structure of acts while still keeping the act goal and climax structure, which limits even more heavily what can be done with sequence goals. What’s even more unusual is doing all of this in just over 90 minutes. With three acts and nine sequences, each act must be strict in sticking to the approximately 30 minute length, and even more constricting, each sequence clocks in around 10 minutes each, making them quite tight and not allowing for much maneuverability within each sequence.

While the runtime of Drive is listed at 100 minutes, this includes the opening and closing credits, with the actual runtime clocking in around 95 minutes (and the movie ending at the 96-minute mark). The three acts run a very balanced 30, 32, and 33 minutes (including resolution). The sequences are even more precise (though the times in the table have been rounded). We can see that each of the first three sequences basically run 10-minutes each (again there is anywhere from 10-30 seconds variation in each). The Act 2 sequences are slightly more variable, but depending on how you designate them are also quite precise. Sequence 4, in which the Driver’s romance with Irene is interrupted by her husband Standard, could end at the 39-minute mark after The Driver and Standard’s “face-off” in the apartment building hallway or could end at the 42-minute mark when The Driver discovers Standard beat up in the parking garage. There are compelling cases for each, but as finding Standard beaten up feels more dramatic on the surface (though even that’s debatable), I’ve started Sequence 5 at the 42-minute mark. So you have sequence lengths of 12, 8, and 12 minutes for Sequences 4-6, or 9, 11 and 12 minutes, depending on where you mark the Sequence 4 climax, but either way these are incredibly precise and still quite close to the three 10-minute sequences of Act 1. Finally, Act 3 keeps the precision going with sequences of 11, 10, and 9 minutes (if we add the resolution, which we usually do, the final sequence stretches to 12 minutes. Again, whichever way you choose to look at it the Act Three sequences have remained incredibly precise in their running time.

The result is an incredibly precisely timed film; one of the most precise, if not the most precise, set of sequences I’ve ever analyzed. The big question is does this precision serve a purpose? I’ve made very clear in my introduction to these breakdowns, and in other breakdowns, that I make no claim that the writers or filmmakers had the specific structures that I describe in mind when they wrote the film. However, it’s hard not to see the precision of the movie’s structure as a reflection of the precision of The Driver, both in his driving ability and in his specific relationship to time. Before any job, he tells his clients, that once the job starts they have exactly 5-minutes, and anything that happens within that 5-minutes “he’s theirs.” But anything “a minute on either side of that and you’re on your own.” Whether intended or not, The Driver’s precision is nicely reflected by the incredibly tight precision of the nine sequence lengths in Drive.

Observation #2: Internal Goal Drives Act 1 and it’s Three Sequences

Despite, the precision of Drive, its first act is quite unusual in its goal structure. The inciting incident occurs at the 13:00 minute mark when The Driver meets Irene on the elevator. This is in line with both normal sequence and act structures. In a sequence-structured movie, the inciting incident is often at the climax of Sequence 1, or at the start of Sequence 2, which is what we find here. In a typical act structure, the inciting incident varies, but often happens around the 15-minute mark (which would place it halfway through the sequence making Sequence 2 a little unbalanced). What’s fascinating is the goal that arises from the inciting incident. Though it unfolds slowly, The Driver is clearly smitten with Irene and begins a relationship with her. His Act 1 goal is to develop a relationship with Irene which he does through the Sequence 2 goal (getting to know her) and Sequence 3 goal (romancing her). What’s fascinating is that while this does lead to his pursuit of the external goal of protecting her, it’s primarily focused on his internal goal of finding meaning in his life through love (specifically with Irene). There is no danger to Irene or her family in Act 1, so his Act 1 goal is limited to romance and the internal. This strong focus on the internal in the opening act is very unusual (Rocky 1 might be something somewhat similar). While The Driver’s internal goal doesn’t exactly disappear, it gets sidelined in Act 2 with the return of Standard, who The Driver decides to help because of his feelings for Irene. Of course, with Standard’s death, The Driver is free to pursue the internal goal in Act 3, where it merges with external, to protect her. This setup: Act 1: Internal Goal, Act 2: External Goal, Act 3: Combined External/Internal is both unusual and elegant. Lastly, the Act 1 focus on the internal goal, which generally doesn’t have strong breaks based on acts and climaxes, would lead many writers to write Act 1 without any sequences at all. But the introductory sequence introducing The Driver’s job as a getaway driver, followed by the title credits, does immediately setup the possibility of sequences.

Observation #3: Sequence 8 and The Missing Driver

As I note in the table, The Driver largely disappears from Sequence 8, which is also somewhat unusual. As I noted above, sequence structures lend themselves to restricted alignment where we stick with the protagonist pretty much throughout the film. This is because changing the alignment from the protagonist within the limited time frame of a sequence can be challenging. Either we don’t have much time to leave the protagonist because their goal requires most of the limited running time of a sequence, or we leave them for most of the sequence to focus on another character(s) and are unexpectedly thrown out of alignment with the protagonist for a fairly long time.

So what’s going on with Sequence 8? I think there are three things happening. The sequence starts with The Driver confronting Shannon over the hitman ambushing him and Irene in the elevator. This is important because the scene sets-up The Driver’s goal—to deal with the threat posed by Bernie and Nino—by having Shannon give The Driver exposition that leads to Nino as the immediate threat. The opening of the sequence ends in voice over with Shannon asking The Driver what he plans to do. One choice would be to spend the rest of the sequence setting up The Driver’s plan. However, the plan is not that complicated, which leads to the first of our three reasons for the structure of Sequence 8. After the voice over, the film cuts to a scene between Bernie and Nino, where we get further exposition and fully understand the threat to Shannon, Irene, and The Driver. By cutting away from The Driver, the filmmakers are largely freed from having to develop scenes in which The Driver enacts a plan. For the most part this wouldn't be especially exciting—the sequence actually makes it more intriguing by leaving The Driver and leaving his planning to the imagination. The cut to Bernie and Nino introduces the second reason for Sequence 8’s structure—it allows us to shift alignment to the antagonists which creates suspense. We know their plan and wonder what will happen. After the scene with Bernie and Nino, we return briefly to The Driver, which is a clever move. We see him steal a mask from the film set. This serves two purposes. The first is to simply realign us with The Driver who we are used to being with throughout the movie. The second is that we at least get to see some aspects of his planning. We then leave The Driver again, and cut to the key scene in which Bernie kills Shannon. This leads to the third reason for Sequence 8’s structure. After Bernie leaves Shannon, still dying, The Driver arrives to find Shannon dying. While the audience knows what’s happening, The Driver experiences the surprise of finding Shannon. The film could have stayed with The Driver therefore creating surprise for both The Driver and the audience. But by allowing the audience to see the murder of Shannon, The Driver’s surprise becomes that much more heartbreaking because we don’t experience the surprise, freeing us to focus fully on The Driver’s reaction (we also get the payoff of The Driver’s warning to Shannon at the start of the sequence. This sequence structure: The Driver and Shannon, Bernie and Nino, The Driver, Bernie and Shannon, then finally The Driver and Shannon might be a little unusual but accomplishes exactly what it needs to do: establishing The Driver’s goal, creating suspense, hinting at the The Driver’s plan, then creating the heartbreak of his discovery of the dying Shannon.

Overall, while the visual structure of Drive (like most of Nicolas Winding Refn’s films) is what most audience tend to focus on, the narrative structure is equally compelling and makes for a unique case study of sequence and act structure combined.

Scott Pilgrim vs. the World, directed by Edgar Wright, is one of my favorite comedies (“Bread makes you fat?) and at six sequences, it does have a slightly unusual structure. Additionally, its unique mix of action, romance, and comedy makes it especially challenging to create. With all this in mind, I thought Scott Pilgrim would be a fun movie to analyze.

As always, these breakdowns contain SPOILERS, and are only recommended if you've already seen the movie. You can check my introduction to these breakdowns, to get an overview of my process and philosophy.

Feel free to let me know what you think in the comments below!

The Basics

Director: Edgar Wright
Writers: Michael Bacall, Edgar Wright, Bryan Lee O’Malley
Release Date: 2010
Runtime: 112 Minutes
IMDB: https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0446029/?ref

Movie Level Goals

Protagonist: Scott Pilgrim
External: Win Ramona by defeating the 7 Evil Exes
SUCCESS | FAILURE | MIXED
Internal Goal: Gain Self-Respect
SUCCESS | FAILURE | MIXED
Goal Relationship: Internal Goal leads to External Goal (Scott must believe in himself in order to believe he can beat Gideon and therefore deserves to be with Ramona)

Three Observations

Observation #1: 7 Evil Exes, 6 Sequences

The most obvious question you might ask after watching Scott Pilgrim is why not make the easy choice and build one sequence around each battle that Scott (Michael Cera) has with Ramona’s (Mary Elizabeth Winstead) seven evil exes? There are a couple of answers. The first, and easiest, is that the structure would become overly predictable and boring. While a video game can work on repetitive levels, a movie, even based on video game structure and iconography, would struggle to keep an audience engaged if we literally had one sequence built around each battle. With seven sequences at minimum (and probably at least one or two to start the movie, we’d end up with 8-9 short sequences, which would make subplots particularly difficult to develop(see Observation #2). Additionally, the nature of the evil exes makes one sequence for each impractical. Let’s look at the actual list of Ramona’s exes:

1. Matthew Patel (Satya Bhabha)
2. Lucas Lee (Chris Evans)
3. Todd Ingram (Brandon Routh)
4. Roxie Richter (Mae Whitman)
5. & 6. Katayanagi Twins (Kyle and Ken) (Keita Saitô and Shôta Saitô)
7. Gideon Graves (Jason Schwartzman)

A few notes. First, Scott is surprised to find himself battling the first evil ex, Matthew Patel. Though Matthew sends an email, Scott’s surprise adds an element of surprise for the audience as well. Additionally, since he shows up out of the blue at the battle of the bands, Scott’s goal for that sequence is not to fight him, but to convince Ramona to date him. Matthew’s appearance becomes part of the climax that leads Ramona to confirm to Scott that he must battle her seven exes for them to date.

Interestingly, Lucas and Todd are each given their own sequence, and Scott’s goal for each sequence is to defeat them. Defeating Todd happens at the 71-72 minute mark, about 2/3 of the way through the movie (4 out of 6 sequences). We could imagine at this point that continuing the pattern could become repetitive at this point, and the movie cleverly does a few things. First, Roxy attacks Scott, who still hasn’t understood that he is battling “exes” and not “boyfriends” and thus doesn’t understand who Roxy is or why she wants to fight him. Additionally, by having Ramona fight Roxy, it saves the audience the potential uncomfortableness of having Scott fight a woman.

Defeating Roxy is combined with defeating the Katayangi twins, and of course it makes sense that though the twins are counted separately toward the seven, Scott must fight them together.

Finally, in the sixth and final sequence, the structure returns to expectations, and Scott must defeat Gideon to close out all seven challenges and eventually have the chance to truly start a relationship with Ramona.

Observation #2: Why the Long Sequences?

With six sequences, we are bound to see longer than normal sequences, unless the movie were to come in at under 90 minutes. At 108 minutes, we have an average length of 18 minutes per sequence which is definitely longer than the typical 15-minute long sequence. Our shortest sequence, as the table shows, is the first one, with the climax being Scott falling for Ramona at the library. This makes sense, as the first sequence can’t be too long, especially in this movie—Scott needs to meet Ramona and want to date her. Leaving this too late would leave the audience unsure of the direction of the movie.

The rest of the sequences range from 16-21 minutes. The main reason is that movie basically splits the attributes of longer act structure versus shorter sequence structure. Sequences allow for tighter cause and effect chains while act structure allows for a slightly looser cause and effect chain that allows for multiple plot lines. Scott Pilgrim vs. The World has to do a little of both. With an action-oriented base structure, sequences make sense. But this is also a romantic comedy dressed in action garb, and the movie has a large number of characters and plot lines: Scott pursuing Ramona, Scott figuring out what to do about Knives (Ellen Wong), the battle of the bands, setting up that Scott has an ex himself in Envy Adams (Brie Larson) the continuing setup of a large number of characters (the bandmates, Scott’s sister (Anna Kendrick), Scott’s roommate Wallace (Kieran Culkin), and Julie Powers (Aubrey Plaza)), and of course fighting all the evil exes.

Observation #3: Is Scott Pilgrim vs. The World Sexist?

Some commentators have criticized Scott Pilgrim for being sexist in its treatment of Scott’s need to fight Ramona’s exes to be with her, and Scott needing to defeat Gideon in order to “free” Ramona from his influence. Overall, I think this is a complex and nuanced discussion. I do agree that Scott having to free Ramona from Gideon’s influence takes away some of Ramona’s agency; it seems like having Ramona fight and defeat Gideon herself would be a strong ending. Having said that, having Scott fight the other exes I think is more complicated. Part of Scott’s journey is learning that the stereotype of a man being obsessed with his girlfriend’s past partners is itself outdated and sexist. In battling her exes, he is learning that her past is not what is important to the success or failure of their relationship. Additionally, Scott has multiple current or ex-girlfriends himself, and he treats one of them, Knives, quite poorly, in essence becoming a future evil ex of hers. He also treats Kim, who had a crush on him, with disregard in terms of her feelings toward him. Learning how to treat women is central to Scott’s growth and his internal goal—gaining self-respect for himself. Part of respecting himself is learning fight for what he wants, to not take the easiest path, and to learn to respect others—otherwise he’ll never truly be able to respect himself.

I apologize for how long it’s been since my last structure breakdown post! Between the holidays and prepping for a short film I was planning to shoot in early January, I’ve been quite busy. The shoot had to be postponed because I contracted Norovirus! But no worries, I am back to full health and am working on rescheduling the shoot.

In the meantime, I decided to do a breakdown of my favorite Paul Thomas Anderson film, Phantom Thread. With PTA’S most recent film One Battle After Another performing so well and on so many Top Ten Lists for 2025, and my choice to include Phantom Thread as a film in my Directing class for the spring, I thought this would be the perfect opportunity to analyze it. I love it’s style, narrative structure, and of course marvel at the performances of Daniel Day Lewis, Vicky Krieps, and Lesley Manville.

Phantom Thread is a challenging film to breakdown, as it is setup in many ways as a typical film with a strong-willed creative artists in Reynolds Woodcock, who is seemingly our protagonist with a fairly typical set of external and internal goals. But as the movie progresses it turns into something quite different.

As always, these breakdowns contain SPOILERS, and are only recommended if you've already seen the movie. You can check my introduction to these breakdowns, to get an overview of my process and philosophy.

Feel free to let me know what you think in the comments below!

The Basics

Director: Paul ThomasAnderson
Writers: Paul Thomas Anderson
Release Date: 2017
Runtime: 130 minutes
IMDB: https://www.imdb.com/title/tt5776858/?ref_=ext_shr_lnk

Movie Level Goals

Protagonist #1: Reynolds Woodcock
False External Goal: To continue his success as the head of a major fashion house
Relationship Goal: To find a worthy partner to fit into his life
SUCCESS | FAILURE | MIXED
Internal Goal: To give up control
Protagonist #2: Alma
External/Relationship: Develop a co-equal loving relationship with Woodcock
SUCCESS | FAILURE | MIXED
Internal Goal: None

As is clear, the goal structure of Phantom Thread is complex and unique. You can see my explication of these complexities in the Three Observations below

Three Observations

Observation #1: The False External Goal

Paul Thomas Anderson starts off Phantom Thread quite cleverly, leadings us to believe we are getting a somewhat typical “Great Man” biography—in this case a profile of the fictional fashion designer Reynolds Woodcock (played with usual grace and depth by Daniel Day-Lewis).

The film starts with a typical day in Woodcock’s life as he dresses, grooms, eats breakfast, and interacts with his sister and business manager Cyril (Lesley Manville). We notice (though barely) that he has a girlfriend, whom he treats with disregard. He then welcomes a client, Countess Harding, for whom he has designed a bespoke dress for an upcoming occasion. Woodcock is everything we expect he might be: genius, precise, observant, prickly, demanding and imperious. The typical “great man” genius.

The initial scenes focusing on his fashion career leads the audience to believe that Woodcock’s external goal will involve in some way achievement as a fashion designer. However, things begin to veer off course when, in the inciting incident, Woodcock meets Alma (Vicky Krieps), a waitress at a local restaurant he sometimes frequents on his travels, this time while his car is being serviced. The attraction is immediate, and the rest of the act focuses on the development of their relationship. Woodcock brings Alma out to dinner after she has left him a very forward note, “For the hungry boy, my name is Alma.” After their dinner, Woodcock brings Alma back to his home and designs a dress for her in a very intimate yet awkward fashion, as he takes her measurements while she is wearing only a slip, with Cyril watching and taking down her measurements. Despite the awkwardness, and Woodcock’s seemingly derogatory comments about her measurements, Alma agrees to try on an already made dress, and the entire scene almost feels like the equivalent of a sex scene as Alma entrusts herself to Woodcock’s intimacy (there is never a sex scene in the movie—though both designing and eating often replace sex as intimate activities for Woodcock and Alma. And despite the extremely obvious double entendre of Woodcock’s name, we never come close to seeing Woodcock’s…). The act ends with Woodcock declaring he’s been looking for someone like Alma for a very long time, and Alma replying, “You found me.”

So is this a relationship movie or a “creative genius” movie or both? Act 2 continues to confuse the issue by focusing much of its attention on the preparation and execution of a fashion show at The House of Woodcock, and Reynold’s exhaustion afterward. Additionally, Woodcock designs a dress for an aging client, embarrassed by her weight gain and loss of beauty, and after appearing at function drunkenly wearing the dress, Alma and Reynolds demand the dress back, and literally strip it off the passed out body of Mrs. Rose. Yet, despite this focus on his work as a designer, neither situation creates the Act 2 structure or a goal to build it on. They are simply the backdrop for developments in the relationship between Reynolds and Alma. She is present throughout and it’s her goal that drives the act and motivates the climax. She wants to be a major part of Woodcock’s life. Initially, Alma slips into Woodcock’s routines, after some early stumbles. She learns to eat quietly at breakfast, and becomes both muse and model as well as a member of his design staff. However, she wants more and in the extended climax, she prepares a special dinner just for him, which he rejects, causing a heated argument between them. Reynolds doesn’t like surprises and resents the intrusion on his routine, while Alma believes his work obsession means it’s only a matter of time before she is discarded like so many of Woodcock’s previous amours.

By this point the direction of the film becomes clear—this is a relationship film, a romance, and despite occasional scenes focusing on his fashion work (specifically designing a wedding dress for a princess in Act 3) the movie is in no way structured around any goals involving Woodcock’s work as a designer (the wedding dress completion is interrupted by his illness, but its his staff who completes the dress, and the princess and the wedding itself largely drifts out of the story), and by the final act this work is barely present at all. Not only is Woodcock’s fashion work not the focal point of the movie’s structure, his goals don’t structure the movie at all (at least after Act 1), which leads us to our second observation:

Observation #2: The Split Protagonist

Though Reynold’s seems setup at as the protagonist because of our initial alignment with him at the start of Act 1, I was somewhat misleading on Observation #1. The movie doesn’t actually start with Reynolds—rather it starts with a brief scene with Alma talking to Woodcock’s doctor in the future about their relationship. She is actually introduced first, and as we watch Act 1 unfold we can easily see the inciting incident and the Act 1 Climax from both Woodcock and Alma’s perspective. Because we are more aligned with Woodcock leading up to the Inciting Incident, we may be more likely to observe the goals from his perspective. But as the movie progresses we become more and more aligned with Alma, and from the start of Act 2 on, it is her goals that structure the rest of the movie. In Act 2, she wants to become a more important part of Woodcock’s life. This backfires spectacularly in the Act 2 climax, when Reynolds rejects Alma’s carefully planned dinner date, and it seems their relationship is close to dissolving. But Alma is not so fragile. In Act 3, her goal is to prove to Woodcock that he needs her, and she does so in startling fashion—she gives him tea brewed with poisoned mushroom, which makes him violently ill. Alma blocks Cyril and a doctor from caring for Woodcock and takes on the job herself. By the end of the act, she has proved her worth, and Woodcock proposes. Unfortunately, the job is not yet done. Though Woodcock initially appreciates the need for change, he begins to resent Alma’s presence and influence and complains to Cyril that Alma is in essence ruining his life and his work. Alma can’t just prove she belongs in Woodcock’s life—she must prove she is his equal and that he must accept her entirely for who she is. So she poisons him again, this time letting him know it as soon as she does, and tells him he must fully submit to her care and be open to her, and then she will make him strong again to continue his work. In the moment, he finally appreciates her strength of will and her equal standing and declares in one of the great cinematic lines, “Kiss me girl before I’m sick.”

So if the movie is structured around the external goals of Alma, doesn't that make her the protagonist of the movie? In some ways yes, but protagonists are sometimes complicated business. One of our other expectations for protagonists is that they have an internal goal which provides meaning and growth. But Alma has no internal goal. One might argue that she must grow the strength to be Woodcock’s equal, but the movie never suggests that she is not initially his equal—only that he doesn’t recognize it. Alma never changes, never grows—she is a constant. Though she provides the external goals and structure, it is Woodcock who is forced to grow and change. The initial implied external goal involving fashion is replaced by the relationship goal of finding and recognizing the partner who can fit his life (see Observation #3). More importantly, he has the internal goal—he is the one who must grow and who provides meaning for the film. Woodcock must surrender control and understand that for a woman to truly fit into his life in a fulfilling way, he must treat her as an equal, rather than maintain absolute control of everyone and everything around him.

The result is a split protagonist with Alma providing the main external goals that structure the movie and Reynolds providing the internal goal that creates change, meaning, and emotional investment.

Observation #3: The Mixed Ending and Goal Connections

Because Alma only has an external relationship goal, her ending is quite clear and easy to understand. After poisoning Woodcock for a second time and getting him to finally see and understand who she is and how she must fit into his life, she succeeds at her goal. She doesn’t need to change, and since she only has one goal, there isn’t an internal goal that depends on success of the external goal (or vice versa).

However, for Reynolds the goals are more complicated. Obviously, by the mid-point of the movie it is clear that any external goal for Woodcock is not based in his work as a designer. This is a relationship movie and success or failure externally depends on whether he successfully achieves the relationship he wants. Note that in the goal list above I write his relationship goal as being both Successful and Mixed. Clearly he doesn’t fail—he ends up with Alma and is happy and settled. But his goal of a successful relationship is not what he had envisioned. For most of the movie Reynolds wants Alma to slip seamlessly into his life. He wants no change at all. When he wants quiet, he wants quiet. When he wants to work, he wants to work. They should go out when he wants to go out. They must eat food prepared how he likes it prepared. This is his relationship goal. But, of course, this will never work, especially because he also at some level knows he wants a woman like Alma—someone who can be his equal. And the only way for him to get this is to understand and succeed at the internal goal—he must be willing to give up control in order to have a successful, fulfilling relationship with Alma. For Reynolds, success at the internal goal leads to success for his relationship/external goal. But even then, he must change his assumptions for what a successful relationship will look like. So he succeeds, but his success is somewhat mixed, as he doesn’t get what he thinks he wants but instead gets what he actually needs: a relationship based on mutual appreciation and equality.

The Usual Suspects was one of the most celebrated crime thrillers of the 1990’s, growing out of the gritty, quirky trend started by Quentin Tarantino with Reservoir Dogs and later Pulp Fiction. Directed by Bryan Singer (who went on to direct a number of X-Men movies) and written by Christopher McQuarrie (who wrote and directed the final four Mission Impossible movies, as well as writing a number of other Tom Cruise vehicles), The Usual Suspects has long been known for its famous twist ending. With that in mind you should 100% watch this movie before reading on.

Twist ending aside, The Usual Suspects has a number of unique narrative features from a false protagonist, a protagonist who is actually an antagonist, two parallel antagonists, and an unusual seven sequence structure. All of this made The Usual Suspects the perfect choice to discuss with Donavon and Daniel on The Reel Therapy podcast, which you can watch below (or find on any popular podcasting platform).

As always, these breakdowns contain SPOILERS, and are only recommended if you've already seen the movie. You can check my introduction to these breakdowns, to get an overview of my process and philosophy.

Feel free to let me know what you think in the comments below!

The Basics

Director: Bryan Singer
Writers: Christopher McQuarrie
Release Date: 1995
Runtime: 106 minutes
IMDB: https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0114814/?ref_=fn_all_ttl_1

Movie Level Goals

Protagonist: Verbal Kint (Keyser Soze)
External: Kill the witness and escape police custody with his secret identity intact
SUCCESS | FAILURE | MIXED
Internal Goal: None
Protagonist of Verbal’s Story: Keaton
External: Pull of the job of stopping the cocaine sale
SUCCESS | FAILURE | MIXED
Internal Goal: None (though he has goals of going straight and having a relationship with Edie, neither of these plays out as fully developed goals)

Three Observations

Observation #1: Two Protagonists—The Story within a Story

I generally define the protagonist of a film as the character whose goal structures the movie and/or the character who has the strongest internal goal. As a crime thriller, The Usual Suspects focuses exclusively on external goals, and is where we’ll look to find our protagonist. What makes The Usual Suspects interesting is the unfolding of the movie and the shifting sands of establishing the protagonist.

Once the foreword ends, we focus on the present timeline which involves the cop Dave Kujan (Chazz Palmenteri) and the criminal he is questioning, Verbal Kint (Kevin Spacey). Already, the movie makes it a little difficult to figure out whose story we are following. Often in crime thrillers, it’s a cop or detective who serves as the protagonist, and his or her goal that structures the movie (usually solving the crime). And in The Usual Suspects it might make perfect sense that Dave Kujan would be our protagonist.

But as he talks with Verbal, we quickly begin to see that Verbal will be telling us the story of the crime at the center of the story—the blowing up of the ship and the killing of dozens of people. In the scenes with Kujan and Verbal, Verbal clearly has the majority of lines and screentime, and of course he also features in the story he is telling. So this might indicate Verbal is our protagonist. However, Kujan’s goal is clear and structural: to solve the crime. Verbal’s goal, at the start, is less clear, other than to tell the story.

The other important factor is that in movies where we have an in-movie storyteller, often narrating past events in voice over, the storyteller is often NOT the protagonist. This is true of a classic like Citizen Kane, where The Reporter is the storyteller, but is obviously not the protagonist. This is also more complicated, but equally true with The Virgin Suicides, where one of the boys obsessed with the Lisbon girls narrates, but is never clearly identified, and is not the protagonist of the story. So our expectation is often that if a movie has a narrator or storyteller featured as a character in the movie they are often not the protagonist (this is different than when the protagonist also has voice-overs explaining their thoughts or feelings).

The idea that Verbal as the storyteller is not the protagonist is reinforced by his telling of the story. Within the story of the coming together of the “Usual Suspects” and the series of crimes they commit, Keaton (Gabriel Byrne) is positioned by Verbal as the protagonist of the story within a story. Keaton is a disgraced cop who is trying to go straight. He has a girlfriend who is a lawyer. He’s invited to participate in a crime, but initially refuses. These are attributes we might see in a classic protagonist. He has a romance, and at least the possibility of an internal goal. And, overall, I think it’s safe to say that Keaton IS the protagonist of Verbal’s story, as he tells it.

The problem is twofold, and is revealed at the end of the movie. First, we discover that Verbal is Keyser Soze, and though much of his story may be true he has also shaped the story to manipulate Kujan into believing that Keaton is Soze. That means it becomes hard to trust everything that Verbal has said about Keaton (that he was trying to go straight, for example). Second, and more importantly, once Verbal is revealed as Keyser, a number of realizations snap into place. We now understand that Verbal/Keyser and not Kujan is the protagonist of the present timeline story. He does have a goal that structures the movie—to convince Kujan that Keaton is Keyser and to escape the police station with his secret intact. Additionally, we also come to understand that Verbal/Keyser was also the protagonist of the story within the story. For every sequence level goal listed above for Keaton, we see a matching goal listed for Verbal/Keyser and realize that it he was pulling the strings all along, and it was his goal dictating the actions of the “Usual Suspects.” It’s obviously incredibly difficult to pull off this sort of “shell game” of protagonists and Christopher McQuarrie does it brilliantly in The Usual Suspects.

Observation #2: Two Antagonists, Two Timelines

Having established Verbal as the protagonist, and recognized that we have two storylines (the heist flashback and current timeline interrogation), we begin to understand that The Usual Suspects has also cleverly created two antagonists, one in each storyline. Of course all of this is dependent on our understanding of Verbal being the protagonist, rather than an antagonist. In essence, we simply having a flipping of roles. In the present day story, Kujan, even though he is a cop on the side of the law, becomes Verbal’s antagonist, as he is the main character who stands in the way of Verbal/Keyeser completing his goal. Additionally, we understand that Verbal is manipulating Kujan the whole time. After all, we learn early on that Verbal has full immunity—he has no reason to talk to Kujan at all. But he does so in order to convince Kujan that Keaton is Keyser. And cleverly he does this through reverse psychology. He praises Keaton, sees Keaton as a leader, insists that Keaton is NOT Keyser, which all feeds Kujan’s belief that Keaton actually is Keyser. We should also note that despite masterminding all of this, Verbal/Keyser does in some ways fail at his final goal (though the film doesn’t really emphasize this). As Verbal leaves, drops his limp, and is revealed to be Keyser, Kujan realizes the story is a lie and gets the witness’s artist sketch showing that Keyser looks a lot like Verbal. Verbal does escape, but his attempt to cast Keaton as Keyser has actually failed, and while Verbal/Keyser may be in the wind, never to be found, Kujan actually has a lead to try to track him down (a lead that Verbal/Keyser may not know about).

Within the flashback storyline, Keaton flips from protagonist to antagonist, as Verbal constantly works to manipulate Keaton into the positions he wants him in, culminating in Keaton agreeing to attack the ship and try to stop the cocaine sale. There are a couple of interesting notes here as well. First. Kobayashi tells the “Usual Suspects” that each one of them has wronged Keyser Soze in some way. We never have confirmation that this is true, but if it is, then we have an additional reason for Verbal/Keyser to want to bring harm to Keaton. Second, it’s also worth noting that while Verbal/Keyser seems like a mastermind who is always multiple steps ahead, Keaton does surprise him at least once. At the end of Sequence 4, Kobayashi seems to have the goods on the gang, and presumably they have no choice but to agree to the plan to disrupt the drug transaction. But Keaton is made of slightly firmer stuff. He refuses to belief Keyser is real, and after Fenster is killed, he reacts by deciding to go after Kobayashi and kill him. This plan might have worked, but of course Verbal is an inside man, and when Keaton grabs Kobayashi and threatens to kill him, Kobayashi has the insurance of having arranged for Keaton’s girlfriend Edie to be in Los Angeles working with Kobayashi. At that point, Keaton agrees to disrupt the cocaine deal, only to discover that there is no cocaine (and only for us to discover that the entire plan was to kill the one witness who could identify Keyser Soze).

Observation #3: Seven Sequences

One of the oddities of The Usual Suspects is its seven-sequence structure. Often, sequences correspond roughly to acts, so if you’ve got three acts, and two sequences per act, you’d have six sequences. Of course, this isn’t always the case, and some movies do have strange numbers of sequences (Casino Royale, for example has 11 sequences). In the end, movies with sequences and no acts, have a variety of reasons for the number of total sequences. However, in the case of The Usual Suspects, I think there is a somewhat clear cut reason for seven sequences. For the most, the sequences do somewhat correspond to typical act structure. The climax of Sequence 1 at the 15:40 mark does also serve as the inciting incident. With that in mind, the Sequence 2 climax at 31:17 roughly corresponds to our normal expectations for an Act 1 Climax. Following that line of thinking, Sequences 3 and 4 would correspond to a typical Act 2. And indeed, the climax of Scene 4 has Kobayashi putting the squeeze on the “Usual Suspects” marking their lowest point of the movie and their first true encounter with a representative of their antagonist, which often corresponds to an Act 2 climax in a three-act structure. Sequences 5 and 6 then roughly correspond to an Act 3, climaxing with the death of Keaton. But, of course, the key to The Usual Suspects is that Keaton’s death isn’t the end of the movie. We need one more sequence, so in Sequence 7 we have Kujan seemingly turning the screws on Verbal to convince him Keaton is Keyser Soze, only for the big reveal that Verbal himself is Keyser. Sequence 7 is the shortest in the movie at around 10 minutes, which makes total sense given that there is very little plot left to unfold, other than the final reveal.

Overall, The Usual Suspects is fascinating from a narrative and structural point of view and reveals the ways in which clever filmmakers can take the basic assumptions of protagonist, antagonist, and structure, and play with them in unconventional ways to surprise audiences.

Rushmore, starring Jason Schwartzman, Bill Murray, and Olivia Williams, is one of my favorite movies, and is definitely my favorite Wes Anderson film (and probably always will be). As Anderson’s second feature film, it doesn't feature the full twee, not quite real, heavily stylized approach of his later films. In this sense it is similar to Bottle Rocket, The Royal Tenenbaums, and The Darjeeling Limited in having a more balanced approach between the not quite real and real worlds. I also deeply admire its structure. While Anderson is known mostly as a formal stylist, some of his films also display a complex and layered structure and Rushmore is no exception.

As always, these breakdowns contain SPOILERS, and are only recommended if you've already seen the movie. You can check my introduction to these breakdowns, to get an overview of my process and philosophy.

Feel free to let me know what you think in the comments below!

The Basics

Director: Wes Anderson
Writers: Wes Anderson, Owen Wilson
Release Date: 1998
Runtime: 93 Minutes
IMDB: https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0128445/?ref   

Movie Level Goals

Protagonist: Max Fischer
External: Be successful at school
SUCCESS | FAILURE | MIXED
Max eventually settles in to Grover Cleveland High School

Relationship Goal: Win Miss Cross (Failure) or Find Love (Success)
SUCCESS | FAILURE | MIXED
Max settles for friendship with Miss Cross and a relationship with Margaret

Internal Goal: Grow up
SUCCESS | FAILURE | MIXED
Max begins thinking of others before himself through setting up Miss Cross and Mr. Blume
Goal Relationship: Internal Goal leads to both External Goal and Relationship Goal Success

Three Observations

Observation #1: Two Loves: Rushmore and Miss Cross
In previous breakdowns, I’ve discussed the presence of relationships goals. They are a bit of a wild card and can operate in a variety of ways. In romances and romantic comedies, for example, the romance generally serves as the external goal that structures the movie. In these films, the protagonist has a separate internal goal that he or she must overcome in order to be in a relationship with the object of their love.

In action movies, on the other hand, the relationship goal is the internal goal providing meaning, while the structural external goal is linked to stopping the antagonist of the movie from successfully completely their crime, blowing something up, destroying the world, etc. This is true of a film like Die Hard, where John McClane’s external goal is to stop Hans Gruber, and his internal goal is to reunite with his estranged wife Holly. Succeeding at stopping Gruber allows him to succeed at being with Holly.

What makes Rushmore’s structure unique is the way it cleverly links the external goal of success at school with trying be with Miss Cross. In this sense, the relationship goal functions more externally than internally because it helps contribute to the structure, because in some ways it’s a surface level crush (though their friendship is deep), and because Max has a deeper internal goal. Let’s take a look.

At the beginning, Rushmore commits itself to this dual external/relationship goal structure by setting up two separate inciting incidents, one for each goal. The first is that the principal, Dr. Guggenheim threatens to kick Max out of school if he doesn’t raise his grades. Soon after, Max sees Miss Cross for the first time, reading Kidnapped by Robert Louis Stevenson, and is immediately smitten.

This is incredibly clever, because Max does want to stay at Rushmore, which he loves dearly, but having seen Miss Cross, he puts nearly all his efforts into being with her. He introduces himself and tries to impress her with his reading selection and discussion of his future goals, helps her with her fish tank, and becomes her unofficial assistant. As he spends more time with her, Miss Cross becomes increasingly uncomfortable with his attentions and allusions to love.

Eventually Max conspires with Mr. Blume to build an aquarium on school grounds to impress her. In the Act climax, without permission, he holds a groundbreaking ceremony for the aquarium which would require moving the baseball field. He invites Miss Cross, who fails to attend, and then when Dr. Guggenheim discovers his plan, Max is kicked out of Rushmore.

So, two seemingly unrelated goals (staying at Rushmore and having a relationship with Miss Cross) are cleverly linked and when one fails (Miss Cross avoids the groundbreaking) it leads to the failure of the other (he is kicked out of Rushmore for trying to build the aquarium without permission). It’s also quite clever that Max isn’t dismissed for his grades (though he surely would have been), but for the aquarium fiasco. This allows the film to speed up Max’s dismissal, not having to wait for the end of the semester. Additionally, with Max focusing his full attention on Miss Cross, he doesn't strongly pursue the goal of getting his grades up, which would not have been the most exciting subject matter for scenes.

Act 2 operates in a similar, though not identical manner. Max must attend Grover Cleveland High. While not happy, he attempts to give it his best shot, trying to set up more clubs (fencing) and putting on a new play. But his love for Miss Cross hasn’t diminished. Initially, he makes a show of being friends with Miss Cross and Mr. Blume, and along with Dirk, they almost become the perfect traditional family. But when he discovers that Miss Cross and Mr. Blume may be romantically involved, he sets out to defeat Blume and destroy any possible relationship between the two. Once again, his obsession with Miss Cross leads him away from his attempts to succeed at Grover Cleveland, and he ends up trying to kill Blume through a series of escalating, hilarious, and ultimately unsuccessful attacks (including unleashing bees into his hotel room and cutting the brakes to his car). However, despite the humor, the damage he causes is real: he is arrested, Mr. Blume’s marriage falls apart and Miss Cross is forced to leave Rushmore. Once again, the movie has cleverly linked the goals of trying to succeed at Grover Cleveland with his attempts to sabotage Mr. Blume and Miss Cross. By the end of the act, he has dropped out of school, given up on Miss Blume, and consigned himself to a life as a barber, like his father. All of this leads us to the final act, and Max’s final realization that he needs to grow up:

Observation #2: Growing Up is Hard to Do
Normally, a character’s internal goal is established in Act 1, and runs concurrently with the external goal. However, Acts 1 and 2 are already full with the external goal and relationship goal, leaving little room for the development of an internal goal. However, it’s clear to the audience (even if not to Max) that he must grow up. At the start of Act 3, he has mostly given up on life, and is still not pursuing an internal goal. In fact, shortly into the act, he discovers that Mr. Blume and Miss Cross are no longer together, and so concocts one last scheme to win her over, by pretending he has been hit by a car while riding his bike, and then climbing a ladder to her second floor window to seek her help. She lets him in, shocked by his appearance (and seemingly oblivious to the ladder). He immediately jumps onto the bed and puts on romantic music. Max’s plan almost seems to succeed as he kisses Miss Cross, who gently pushes him away, but doesn't get angry. But then she discovers the blood on his head is fake and kicks him out.

On the surface, it seems as if Max hasn’t changed at all. But the scene is one of the most beautiful and emotional scenes in the movie, and is the start of Max’s internal growth. Despite Max’s initial deception, rather than attempting to impress Miss Cross or pressure her into something, he actually does something he’s never done before—he listens and he tells the truth. Max and Miss Cross bond over the loss of loved ones (Miss Cross’s husband and Max’s mother). And though Max is seemingly cruel in quoting Mr. Blume, who says that Miss Cross still isn’t over the death of her husband, Edward Appleby, he’s actually right, and the tough love eventually seems to help Miss Cross begin the process of healing and moving forward with her life. When he attempts to kiss her, it is gentle and much different than the assaultive nature of his attempt at the end of Act 2.

While this is the start of Max’s growth and pursuit of the internal goal of maturing, he is also aided by his friend Dirk Calloway, his loyal younger friend, who despite being hurt by Max gives him a Christmas present (before he fakes being hit by the car), and then cleverly lures him into a chance meeting with Margaret Yang, which sparks Max to life, and gives him the idea to start a new kite flying club at school. From there, Max begins to mend fences, putting his friends before himself, and embracing the future, rather than looking back to his past at Rushmore. He starts wearing a new signature suit, instead of his old Rushmore uniform, invites Mr. Blume to the barber shop, admits his father is a barber and not a neurosurgeon, and in the climax writes a play about the Vietnam War, honoring Mr. Blume, setting up Mr. Blume and Miss Cross, and embracing the possibility of a relationship with Margaret.

Observation #3: A Wistful Ending
The film’s ending is quite clever, wistful, and bittersweet. After the success of the play and the reuniting of Miss Cross and Mr. Blume, Max has accomplished all of his goals. By putting on a successful play at Grover Cleveland, he has made new friends, and settled in at his new school. He (mostly) fulfills his relationship goal by starting a relationship with Margaret (who proudly proclaims to Mr. Blume that she is Max’s girlfriend). And he succeeds at his internal goal by putting the needs of others before his own, and in doing so, demonstrates he has grown up.

But the movie has one last emotional twist for us, that almost undercuts the previous goals, and turns a happy ending into a bittersweet one. At the after-performance party (The Heaven and Hell Cotillion), in which everyone from the movie reunites, Max’s dad encourages Max and Miss Cross to dance. Max has the DJ change the song to “Ooh La La” by The Faces. The movie moves into slow motion and Max and Miss Cross exchange wistful looks, filled with both gratitude and a little sadness. Miss Cross removes Max’s glasses, and then Max and Miss Cross step into the center of all the dancers (still in slow motion) and begin to dance looking into one another’s eyes. As the credits start to roll, we hear the song continue with the lyrics, “They trap you, then they use you/Before you even know/Well, love is blind and you’re far too kind/Don’t ever let it show/I wish that I knew what I know now /When I was younger /I wish that I knew what I know now /When I was stronger.”

Though they are settled and happy in their current relationships, Max with Margaret, and Miss Cross with Mr. Blume, the movie suggests that these two characters share something special, perhaps even love, and if circumstances were different, and Max were older or Miss Cross were younger, they might have even ended up together. It’s a daring ending, both in even suggesting that a relationship under any circumstances might have been possible, but also in almost undercutting the happy, wrapped up ending established in the previous scenes with a bittersweet one that hints at an alternate reality. It’s a reminder that life is complicated, people are complicated, and that our lives are ruled as much by chance (when we were born) as by choice. And from a narrative point of view, also shows us that we can wrap up a a story, show characters achieving their goals, but still hint at and suggest other possibilities. And this final act and the final scenes, more than anything else, are why I love Rushmore so much.

This week I thought I'd bring you the structure breakdown of the classic sci-fi action film The Matrix directed by The Wachowskis. The Matrix is a movie I have been using as a case study for basic structure for a long time in my script analysis class. It has all the features that I need to teach my students the basic aspects of narrative structure, from a clear cut protagonist with both external and internal goals, to a well laid out four act structure, to the simplicity needed to illustrate the basic concepts of structure. Since we covered the film in my class last week, I thought this would be a good time to share my structure breakdown with The Hutch Files.

As always, these breakdowns contain SPOILERS, and are only recommended if you've already seen the movie. You can check my introduction to these breakdowns, to get an overview of my process and philosophy.

Feel free to let me know what you think in the comments below!

The Basics

Director: Lana Wachowski and Lilly Wachowski
Writers: Lana Wachowski and Lilly Wachowski
Release Date: 1999
Runtime: 136 Minutes
IMDB: https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0133093/ 

Movie Level Goals

Protagonist: Neo
External: Defeat the Agents
SUCCESS | FAILURE | MIXED
Internal Goal: Become the One
SUCCESS | FAILURE | MIXED
Goal Relationship: Internal Goal Leads to External Goal: Neo must become The One to defeat the agents
Relationship Goal: Be with Trinity
SUCCESS | FAILURE | MIXED
Goal Relationship: Trinity is “fated” to be with The One, but when Neo dies, Trinity kisses him and resurrects him, so in the end he must be with Trinity to become The One
Relationship Goal—>Internal Goal—>External Goal

Three Observations

Observation #1: The Three Goal Structure

The three goal structure of The Matrix is actually quite unusual. In fact, when I teach The Matrix to my class I tend to leave out the relationship goal because it complicates the discussion. In most arch plots, characters generally have two goals: the external goal and the eternal goal. These goals are related, with either the success of the internal goal dependent on success of the external goal or the reverse. With The Matrix the relationship between the external and internal goals is pretty straightforward. Neo you must become the one in order to defeat the agents so in this case the external goal success is dependent on achievement of the internal goal must become “The One” in order to defeat the agents. So in this case, the external goal success is dependent on achievement of the internal goal.

But as you can see above the goal structure of The Matrix is complicated by the addition of a third relationship goal. Relationship goals are not completely uncommon. Often times when a movie has a strong external goal, the relationship goal serves as the internal goal. Occasionally movies do have three goals, with traditional external and internal goals, but also with the addition of relationship goal. For example, you can see my breakdown of the Michael Mann movie Thief as an example of a three goal movie. Other movies like Anderson's film Rushmore also have three goals, with an external internal and relationship goal (this is a movie I need to publish a breakdown for in the near future).

What's interesting about the three goals in The Matrix, is the way they relate to each other. In most films, if there is a relationship goal its success is dependent on either the internal goal or the external goal. Occasionally if the relationship goal is also the internal goal, it may need to be achieved before the external goal can be achieved. However, the more common situation is that a protagonist achieves their external goal, which then allows them to successfully complete their relationship goal. A movie like Die Hard is a good example of this.

In The Matrix however, the relationship goal must be completed first. This is because of the mythical and religious themes that the Wachowskis have embedded in the movie. When Neo confronts the agents at the end of the movie it seems like he has become “The One.” But actually, he has not fully become “The One”, and in fact the agents shoot and kill him. The theme of resurrection and the portrayal of Neo as a Christ-like figure is tied to Trinity's love for Neo. So when Neo dies, it is her kiss that resurrects him and completes the relationship goal. This in essence is the final step in him becoming “The One”, and so he completes the internal goal. And of course once he's “The One”, he is able to defeat the agents, specifically agent Smith, and finally completes the external goal.

Observation #2: The Act Two Climax

While I stated in the introduction that the matrix has a pretty classic four act structure, it turns out that there are a few interesting wrinkles, especially in act two an act three (which we’ll discuss below). Act two starts clearly enough, with Neo waking up aboard the ship, the Nebuchadnezzar. Neo is obviously disoriented and confused and this is further exacerbated by the fact that Morpheus tells him pretty quickly that he may be ”The One.” Pretty quickly, Neo begins learning about the new world he lives in, the Matrix, and starts to train in the simulator. The active goal becomes pretty obvious at this point: his goal is to learn about the Matrix and its rules. We might also say that he has the goal of maximizing his potential, since he knows early on that Morpheus thinks he may be “The One.”

Where are things get a little unusual is in the climax of the act. The scene that most clearly feels like a climactic moment is the jump scene, in which Morpheus challenges to jump from the roof of one skyscraper to another inside the simulator. Neo fails at this challenge, and so it seems like he fails at his goal of learning about the Matrix and maximizing his potential. However, act two continues for six more scenes. It might be tempting to argue that these scenes are the beginning of act three. However, the final of the six scenes is Cypher meeting with Agent Smith inside the matrix, and the following scene is Morpheus telling the crew that they're going to see The Oracle, which is clearly the beginning of act three. So I think we have to see these six scenes as the final scenes of act two. They are:

1. The scene in which Neo realizes that if you're killed in the Matrix you die in real life

2. Cypher giving Trinity a hard time after she brings Neo food while he's sleeping

3. Neo and Morpheus in the “Woman in the red dress” program

4. The attack of the sentinels

5. Neo sharing a drink with Cypher

6. Cypher meeting with agent Smith and agreeing to portray his friends

Honestly, none of these scenes provides a strong climax to Neo's goal of learning the rules of the Matrix and trying to maximize his potential. In some ways I think it would have made more sense to switch the order of the “jump program” scene with the “woman in the red dress” scene. That would have made the “jump scene’ much closer to the end of the act where it could have served as a stronger climax. Instead, I think we have to look at the scene of of Neo sharing a drink with Cypher as the closest thing to a climactic scene for Neo's goal specifically. Cypher ask Neo if he knows that he supposed to be the one and when Neo replies in the affirmative, Cypher tells him what a heavy burden that must be. While Neo has almost no lines in this scene, Vyphers's reactions and Neo's hesitancy tell us the seriousness of being “The One”, and reinforces the fact that at least at this point Neo doesn't seem to be The One.

Observation #3: The Misleading Act Three

Act three also has a little bit of a wrinkle. I think the goal and climax of the act are pretty straightforward. Morpheus brings Neo into the Matrix with the goal of discovering from the Oracle if Neo is the one. The act climaxes with Cypher killing most of the crew but dying at the hands of Tank, who then brings Neo and Trinity back on board the Nebuchadnezzar. The interesting wrinkle is that the goal and the climax don't seem directly related. Normally the whole point of an act climax is to resolve the act goal: does the protagonist succeed or fail at the goal. The first issue, is that the goal of discovering if Neo is “The One” actually seems to be Morpheus's goal more than it is Neo's goal. Secondly, the Oracle seemingly tells Neo that he is not “The One.” We could interpret this in a couple of different ways. First, if Neo discovers that he's not “The One”, he still has succeeded at his goal which is to discover if he's “The One” or not. He's just discovered that he's not. Second, we could see the Oracle telling Neo that he's not “The One” as the main conflict for Neo. However, it's not really clear that Neo especially wants to be “The One”, although he does seem to want to please Morpheus.

So how do we resolve all of this? This is another situation where the Wachowskis have cleverly misled us. It turns out that although we think Neo has discovered whether he is “The One” or not, he really has not. The Oracle has only told him that he is not “The One” right now. Because they are attacked by the agents almost immediately after Neo's meeting with The Oracle, Neo is unable to fully explore, think about, or discuss The Oracle’s answers. So in fact, the attack by the agents and the following betrayal by Cypher don't allow Neo the opportunity to actually discover if he's the one, and so he fails at his act goal. Of course, there's a reason for this. Morpheus must be kidnapped and many of the crew members killed, for Neo to step up and choose to risk his life to save Morpheus. And he must do this in order to eventually become “The One.”

It seemed only fitting that during the 50th anniversary summer of the release of Steven Spielberg’s blockbuster defining Jaws, that the guys at Reel Therapy (formerly 241 Studios) and I analyzed and discussed the movie that changed both the industry itself, as well as our relationship with sharks. It’s a masterclass in filmmaking, and it was a joy to discuss. So checkout the podcast and see my breakdown below!

As always, these breakdowns contain SPOILERS, and are only recommended if you've already seen the movie. You can check my introduction to these breakdowns, to get an overview of my process and philosophy.

Feel free to let me know what you think in the comments below!

The Basics

Director: Steven Spielberg
Writer: Screenplay by Peter Benchley and Carl Gottlieb, based upon the novel by Peter Benchley
Release Date: 1975
Runtime: 124 Minutes
IMDB: https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0073195/?ref_=ttfc_ov_bk    

Movie Level Goals

Protagonist: Sherriff Brody
External Movie Level Goal: Survive the shark
SUCCESS | FAILURE | MIXED
Internal Movie Level Goal : None
Goal Relationship: Even though the movie establishes that Brody is afraid of water, he overcomes that fear pretty quickly and easily once he hires Quint and never really has to do anything specific to overcome his fear.

Three Observations

Observation #1: The Two Act 1 Goals

Act I has a unique structure that I haven’t seen too often. It starts with the fact that the Inciting Incident has a Setup and Payoff structure. That, in itself, is not especially unusual. Inciting incidents often come in parts, with a set-up that introduces the possibility of the full Inciting Incident, and then the payoff where the full Inciting Incident comes to pass. From here, the protagonist often then forms a short Act 1 goal that drives the rest of the action until the Act 1 Climax, or the protagonist spends time figuring out how to respond to the Inciting Incident, and is usually forced to do so by the Act 1 Climax.

What makes the Act 1 structure of Jaws so interesting is that our protagonist, Sheriff Brody forms goals both to the Inciting Incident Setup and the Inciting Incident Payoff. The setup comes up pretty early, around the 5-minute mark when Chrissie is killed. The next day Brodie investigates, finds the body, and is told shortly afterward that Chrissie has been killed by a shark. However, when the mayor objects to Brody closing the beaches, the medical examiner recants his cause of death, and Brody, is left with the question of what killed Chrissie (of course the audience knows exactly what killed her). From the 5-minute mark until the Payoff at the 17-minute mark, when Alex is definitively killed by a shark, Brody’s goal is convince the mayor and town to close the beach. He fails at this goal, which leads to the Inciting Incident Payoff—Alex’s death. At that point the mayor agrees to a 24-hour closure of the beaches in an attempt to capture the shark. Though Brody is not an activate participant in trying to kill the shark, his broad goal is to lead the effort to kill the shark in a safe and responsible manner (which coincides with the arrival of Hooper). Of course, a shark is killed and Brody initially celebrates what seems to be the successful completion of his goal until Hooper tells him they haven’t killed the right shark, and Alex’s mother castigates him for keeping the beach open. At that point, Brody realizes he has to keep working to either prove or disprove whether the shark is the right one or not, which leads us into Act 2.

Observation #2: The Internal Goal That Wasn’t

As I’ve discussed in other breakdowns (see Back to the Future and Ferris Bueller), it has become common in the past 25-30 years for most protagonists to have both external and internal goals, and for those goals to be interdependent on each other (that is the protagonist must accomplish one in order to accomplish the other). In movies from the 80’s and earlier, this seems to have been less common (though not totally uncommon either), with protagonists having more simple external goals that are not related to an internal goal. Often in older films, when there is a second goal, it’s often a romantic one that functions similarly to an internal goal, but without the need for the character to make a change or confront an internal conflict.

In some movies from the 80’s and earlier it almost feels as if filmmakers sensed the need to give protagonists an internal conflict, but never seemed to quite tie this to the external goal. This is true in Back to the Future, where Marty is scared to show his music to a record producer out of fear he won’t like it, but that fear is never really developed or plays a part in his success or failures later in the movie.

The same seems to happen in Jaws. Early in the movie, Sheriff Brody is setup with a great internal conflict—he is afraid of water. This is quite clever as he has taken a job on an island, and of course, his main external goal and conflict will be to try to kill and survive the attacks of a great white shark, which causes him to spend the second half of the movie entirely on a boat. Despite this great setup, Brody’s fear of water, while present in the background, never really manifests in any meaningful way in the plot itself. Once Act 3 starts and Brody hires Quint to kill the shark (with the assistance of Hooper), Brody’s fear of water largely evaporates. He’s obviously tentative and inexperienced on the boat. But overall, he functions just fine, and the movie never really foregrounds his fear of water at all. And in the final Act, where today we might see Brody really have to confront his fear of water in order to kill the shark, instead Brody just acts courageously, not really thinking about his fear, as the boat sinks and he tries one last desperate attempt to kill the shark. The final confrontation is clever as Brody clings to the mast and must try to shoot and blow-up the oxygen tank before he sinks into the water. However, as the boat slowly sinks and he fires his rifle, he never seems especially afraid of sinking into the water. In the end, this fear doesn’t really impact his actions, and the movie’s structure is built around the external goal only.

Observation #3: The Subtle Shift from Act 3 to Act 4

Act (and sequence) goals are interesting, because while they provide structure, they are often organic aspects of the plot, and many writers don’t consciously use them to create structure. This can lead to a wide variety of interesting goal set-ups and relationships between goals. But even so, goals still end up providing key structural moments. The Act 3 and 4 goals of Jaws are interesting in this regard. As Act 3 starts, the goal is obvious—to kill the shark. A broad or cursory look at the movie would seem to indicate that this goal never changes through the rest of the movie, and therefore it almost seems as if Act 3 lasts the final 60 minutes of the movie, with no fourth act.

However, a closer look reveals a subtle but important shift in goals that does give us a structure, and therefore a fourth act. The goal of killing the shark in Act 3 is largely a failure, the shark follows the chum trail that they create, and they fire multiple barrels into the shark but are unable to wear it down or stop it. At the end of the day, the shark gets aways, and Brody, Quint, and Hooper rest in the cabin, and eventually bond over comparing scars (Quint and Hooper) and then listening in rapt attention to Quint tell the story of surviving the sinking of the U.S.S. Indianapolis. This moment is important as the three very different men, are finally able to bond. However, immediately after this memorable moment, a key event takes place—the shark attacks the boat. Up until this moment the shark has largely behaved in normal shark fashion—chasing the boat for the chum, then trying to escape when they harpoon the barrels into it. But when it attacks the boat, we have a clear shift in intention from the shark—it is now after Brody, Quint, and Hooper, behaving in an unexpected way, and going from a scary, but natural phenomenon, to almost something supernatural.

Once the shark attacks, things take a downward turn, the engine burns out, and eventually the boat begins to sink. While technically, the three men still want to kill the shark, their primary goal is now survival. If they could escape without killing the shark, they would gladly do so (though killing it is definitely one way to survive it). The one exception is Quint. While Brody and Hooper simply want to survive, Quint’s past experience and his obsession and hatred of sharks, drive him to want to kill the shark at all costs. This conflict in goals between Brody/Hooper and Quint helps provide the excitement of Act 4. But in terms of structure, this subtle shift for Brody of wanting to simply survive is a key change that marks the start of the final act. Of course, in the end, the Act 3 and 4 goals converge, and the only way to survive the shark is to kill it. And unless a sequel were planned, this is really the only logical ending since if they survive without killing it, Amity Island would still be under threat.

Back in June I was invited by UCAFilm alum Kris Pistole to be a guest on his Podcast Classic Cinema Society. Pistole asked me to choose a film for discussion, with the main limitation that it be a classic film from before 1970. I asked if we could discuss a foreign film, and he was excited about the possibility since they had not featured a foreign film on the podcast at that point. I suggested one of my all-time favorite movies, Michelangelo Antonio’s L'avventura, and Pistole agreed. This week Pistole posted the podcast, which you can listen to on YouTube or using your regular podcast app.

We had a fantastic discussion, so I decided to write up an accompanying appreciation and breakdown of the film. Since this is both an appreciation and a breakdown, you'll find a lengthy discussion first and then my act breakdown of the film at the end.

As always, these post contain SPOILERS, and are only recommended if you've already seen the movie.

Feel free to let me know what you think in the comments below!

The Sight and Sound Poll

Tracking L'avventura's standing in the pantheon of cinema is an interesting exercise. The movie premiered at the Cannes film festival in 1960 and was initially greeted with a sustained round of booing. Yet at the end of the festival, the film received a special jury prize for "the beauty of its images, and for seeking to create a new film language.”

This regard for the film was reflected just two years later in Sight and Sound’s 1962 poll of the greatest films in cinema history. Astoundingly, L'avventura ranked second in the poll that year. In 1972, the movie slipped to number five and in 1982 the movie slipped two more places to number seven, though had obviously remained in the top 10. In 1992, the film slid 10 spots to number 17 followed by a five spot slide in 2002 two number 22, and then a one spot rise in 2012 to number 21. The real shocker occurred in 2022 when the film tumbled 51 places and landed at the 72nd overall spot in the poll.

Of course, there's no real way to know why exactly the film fell so far. I believe voting was open to a much larger number of people, and when you look at the 2022 poll you will see a lot of recent films that were added to the poll. However, I'll also offer one or two other possibilities later in my discussion.

“A New Film Language?”

As I noted above, the jury at the 1960 Cannes Film Festival gave the film a prize for both “…the beauty of its images" and "for seeking to create a new film language.” I think the first half of the quote is fairly straightforward, and the stills I've included illustrate this well. Additionally, I'll talk a little bit more below about the specific aspects of composition that stand out in L’avventura.

But what does "a new film language” mean? Clearly the jury felt that L'avventura had done something new, something that had not been seen in cinema before. But often times when people use the phrase "film language" they often mean the combination of visuals and storytelling. That is true here, but I think we need to dig a little deeper.

I think what was extraordinary and new about what Antonioni was doing with L'avventura was his refusal to provide clear, external motivations for the actions of his characters. The film has three main characters: Anna, her boyfriend Sandro, and her best friend Claudia. Anna is clearly experiencing a psychological, emotional, spiritual, and existential crisis in the first act of the movie. What's unclear, is why exactly she is experiencing this crisis. After Anna disappears, Sandro and Claudia team up to try to find her, but slowly abandon their search and instead begin a romantic relationship of their own. While this relationship might seem to be in poor taste, Sandro barely questions it, though Claudia does seem more troubled. As with Sandro, the rest of their friends make little or no note of how quickly they move on from Anna. Why do Sandra and Claudia behave in this way? As the film progresses, both revel in their romance, but also seem to be uneasy, with Sandro eventually cheating on Claudia and Claudia struggling to balance her newfound happiness with a deeper sense of dread and unhappiness. Again, what is going on with these characters and why are they making the choices they do and experiencing the emotions they feel?

What made L'avventura so radical in 1960, is that none of the characters attempt or are able to explain their motivations or feelings. We simply watch them make the choices that they make, and are left to figure out for ourselves what is going on internally for each of them. Most movies before L'avventura, and even most movies since, tend to externalize the internal. That is, through dialogue and action, we generally have a strong and clear sense of character motivation. However, instead of relying on dialogue and action as the primary drivers of motivation, Antonioni instead relies on context, shooting style, composition, acting, and other much more subtle cues to externalize the internal. In 1960, I think this was a new and foreign form of filmmaking, and caused audiences to struggle with the movie, but also caused critics to understand that it was attempting something new.

To contextualize this, we can look at some of the other great auteurist films that were released around this time. Perhaps the greatest auteur of the 1950s was the Swedish director Ingmar Bergman. In 1957, he released both the Seventh Seal and Wild Strawberries. These are both considered classics of modernist cinema, yet they are both easily understood, with characters whose motivations are quite clear. Additionally, Bergman uses very specific devices to aid in externalizing the internal feelings of his protagonists. For example, the Knight in the Seventh Seal is afraid of death. Not only does the Knight express those fears through dialogue and action, he literally plays chess with the Grim Reaper to try to stave off death.

Likewise, Professor Borg in Wild Strawberries travels to the university he graduated from in order to receive an honorary degree to to recognize his life's work. As he makes the drive, he encounters a series of characters as well as stopping at the family home of his youth. While the Professor is less inclined to discuss his feelings than the Knight in the Seventh Seal, Bergman uses a series of flashbacks and dreams to externalize the internal feelings of Professor Borg. Through these we discover his past history, his dreams, and his regrets. In both cases, the films externalize the internal lives of the characters in ways that make them easier to understand for the audience.

Other films that played at the film festival in 1959 and 1960, or came out around the same time, include François Truffaut’s 400 Blows, Jean-Luc Goddard's Breathless, La Dolce Vita by Federico Fellini, and Hiroshima mon Amour by Alain Resnais (what an amazing time in cinema history!). In all of these films, the motivations of the characters are generally relatively clear. The exception might be Patricia in Breathless, whose motivation for turning in Michel is mysterious (but even this happens at the very end of the movie). Additionally, while Hiroshima mon Amor beautifully experiments with time, the actual motivation of it two romantic leads are relatively straightforward. Contrast this with Antonioni's L’avventura, and we can see how his reliance on context, shot composition, and other more subtle clues to create character motivation would have been seen as both challenging for audiences and as" creating a new cinematic language.”

So why has the film fallen so far in the Sight and Sound poll in the last 10 years? I think the answers are somewhat contradictory. First, since the release of L'avventura in 1960 there have been many more art cinema films that have replicated Antonioni's enigmatic approach to character. For example, Andrey Tarkovsky's later works, including Nostalghia written by L'avventura's screenwriter Tonio Guerra, features characters and scenes whose motivations are obscure. So in a way, viewers well-versed in cinema history may have grown used to the “new film language” of Antonioni. Second, and contradictorily, while films of this nature are more common, they are still difficult to watch and perhaps have become less popular in a social media age where films tend to be very obvious and clear in their themes and motivations. Along these lines, L'avventura may suffer in comparison to equally great, but less subtle and more obviously groundbreaking films. For example, Antonioni's compatriot Federico Fellini's kaleidoscopic masterpiece 8 1/2 ranks at number 31. And even the number one film, Chantal Ackerman’s Jeanne Dielman, 23 Quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles, while difficult to watch at four hours long, is clear in it's groundbreaking use of the slow cinema techniques of a fixed camera and long takes. Finally, I’ll note that much of the thematic focus and conflict for the characters of L’avventura is existential. At the moment, I think existential themes are less popular than more overt political and sociological themes (Get Out is already on the poll at #95).

Intellectual or Emotional

This enigmatic approach to character motivation, and the refusal to externalize the internal has led some to see L’avventura (and other Antonioni films) as more intellectual than emotional. This view is enhanced by Antonioni’s great Italian colleague Federico Fellini who generally externalized everything about his characters and themes. Personally, however, I find L’avventura (and Antonioni’s other films ) to be incredibly emotionally moving. The charge of intellectualism (which by the way is not a bad thing in and of itself) I think stems from the fact that the characters don’t often directly express emotion and that audiences therefore have to “work” at figuring them out, which seems to make these movies seem intellectual.

But for me, there is perhaps nothing more human than hiding emotion, being afraid to express oneself, and struggling to figure out why you feel anxiety, depression, dread, fear and alienated from the people and world around you. In fact, the struggles of Anna, Sandro, and especially Claudia, could not be more relevant to where many of us find ourselves emotionally in today’s social media, post-truth, politically retrograde world. We are somehow more connected, yet more alienated from each other than we have ever been. The struggle to identify these feelings, understand them, and learn to live with them, is incredibly emotional, and that struggle is beautifully embodied by the fantastic actress Monica Vitti. While Anna is the only character who gives any sort of voice to her alienation and existential struggles, it is Claudia who is the main focus of the audience’s understanding of them. While she is slow to recognize them, her increasing sense of loss (and lostness) becomes the centerpiece of the film. She wants to feel grief, but is afraid of it. She wants to feel love, but is unsure of what it looks like. She wants to be happy, but doesn’t know what true happiness is. Throughout this struggle Claudia, and all of the other characters primarily look inward, and none of them seem able to experience any true emotion.

These struggles are subtlety and cleverly communicated through the constant repetition of one word—“Why” (Perchè)? Repetitions and variations of the word occur throughout the film, and in key scenes. In fact, each of our three main characters repeats this question. Anna most famously near the beginning of the film when she makes love to Sandro, Sandro later when he is discussing his choice to quite architecture and his desire to return to it, and Claudia in response to Sandro’s own “Why.” When she tells him to say he loves her, he asks “why?” And she repeats the question, seemingly in a moment of self-reflection. Why should Sandro say he loves her? In fact, L’avventura uses the word “Why”/“Perchè” a total of 73 times. Just to compare to some of the previous mentioned classics mentioned above, the word “why” appears:

• 11 times in The 400 Blows

• 15 times in Hiroshima mon Amour

• 19 times in Wild Strawberries

• 27 times in La Dolce Vita

• 31 times in The Seventh Seal

Or to put it another way, the word “why” appears every two minutes in the film.

The breakthrough for Claudia comes at the movie’s bittersweet ending. Finding themselves unexpectedly reunited with some of their wealthy friends at a hotel, Claudia and Sandro have differing reactions. Claudia, perhaps ashamed of giving up the search for Anna and beginning to feel both loss and lost, prefers to go to bed early and not face her acquaintances. Sandro, barely in touch with his existential struggles, is happy to go socialize (it should be noted, though, that even Sandro struggles, primarily through his barely expressed regrets at giving up architecture and the creative life for the easy and financially rewarding life of providing estimates for building projects). Claudia, however, is unable to asleep and craves Sandro’s company, so in a panic searches the hotel through the early morning hours after most of the revelers have finally retired for the night. Finally, she finds Sandro in the arms of Gloria Perkins, the American “It Girl” (and prostitute), and runs off in tears. She and Sandro find themselves reunited at dawn, with Sandro sitting in tears on a bench looking out at Mount Etna, unable to explain his actions. Finally, in perhaps the movie’s first true act of humanity and connection, Claudia, hurt and shamed by Sandro’s actions, reaches out and caresses the back of his head, acknowledging his pain and confusion, and perhaps finding an answer to her own existential alienation: compassion for the pain of others.

The Compositions

As mentioned above the Cannes Jury also recognized the “beauty of [L’avventura’s] images.” The black and white cinematography by Aldo Scarvara is beautiful, as are the Sicilian locations. But the movie is also full of original and arresting compositions including:

Unbalanced Frames (both horizontal and vertical):

Characters With Their Backs to the Camera:

Mixing Depth and Flat Framing:

The Use of Mise-en-Scene to Create Meaning:

Structure

Much of my work, especially on this blog, is an examination and analysis of the narrative structure of films based around sequences or acts defined by character goals. Usually, my assumption is that structured narratives are most common in Hollywood films of the past 50 years or what the writer Robert McKee has labelled arch-plots. Mini-plots, which focus less on the external goals of characters, tend not be as structured, and therefore an examination based on sequences or acts is less relevant (and is often the case with art and independent cinema). However, lately, I’ve been finding structure even in movies that on the surface seem less structured, including older films and mini-plot style art cinema and independent films. While perhaps not a conscious choice by the filmmakers, it might be that seeking or creating structure in narrative is more common than it seems, perhaps making it easier for both filmmakers and audiences to navigate even tricky, challenging cinema (though I want to be clear I’m not making a claim that all films contain structure). And after watching L’avventura for my discussion with Pistole, I discovered it has a fairly straightforward act structure.

So below you’ll find my abbreviated structure breakdown of L’avventura. Given how much I’ve written above, you won’t find my normal “Three Observations”, but I’ve listed goals and times below, and you can decide whether or not you agree with my findings.

The Basics

Director: Michelangelo Antonioni
Writers: Story by Michelangelo Antonioni, Screenplay by Michelangelo Antonioni, Elio Bartolini, and Tonino Guerra
Release Date: 1960
Runtime: 144 Minutes
IMDB: https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0053619/fullcredits/?ref_=tt_cst_sm

Movie Level Goals

Protagonist: Claudia
External: Find love (with Sandro)
SUCCESS | FAILURE | MIXED
Sandro cheats on Claudia, but her kindness in the movie’s final shots makes their future unclear
Internal: To figure out her existential crisis
SUCCESS | FAILURE | MIXED
Again, Claudia’s compassion for Sandro at the end of the movie hints at a path forward to moving out of her sense of alienation and existential dread

Earlier in the year, I had the students in my Storytelling 4 class each create a structure breakdown for a movie of their choice. One of those students, Carlie Crabtree, also worked with me in the summer of 2024 to prep a bunch of future breakdowns, and to work on some of her own as well. She initially did the work on Ferris Bueller's Day Off (starring Matthew Broderick in his breakout role and written and directed by John Hughes), and I followed up with some additional observations, so this breakdown is a collaborative effort from the both of us. We hope you enjoy it!

As always, these breakdowns contain SPOILERS, and are only recommended if you've already seen the movie. You can check my introduction to these breakdowns, to get an overview of my process and philosophy.

Feel free to let me know what you think in the comments below!

The Basics

Director: John Hughes
Writer: John Hughes
Release Date: 1986
Runtime: 103 Minutes
IMDB: https://www.imdb.com/title          

Movie Level Goals

External Protagonist: Ferris Bueller
External Goal: Play hooky without getting caught
SUCCESS | FAILURE | MIXED
Internal Goal Protagonist: Cameron Frye
Internal Goal: Stop living in fear
SUCCESS | FAILURE | MIXED
Goal Relationship: N/A (Ferris has a relationship with Sloan and this never changes over the course of the movie)

Three Observations

Observation #1:

Inciting incidents are unique and important aspects of feature length narrative films. Generally, they are defined as being the moment in which the status quo of the protagonist’s life changes in some form or fashion and to which the protagonist must respond in order for the plot to begin. The typical inciting incident generally occurs in the middle of the first act, somewhere around the 15 minute mark. This allows for the audience to get to know the protagonist, characters to be developed, and exposition to be revealed. Additionally, the protagonist has enough time to develop a short act one goal for the final 15 minutes or so of the first act. If the movie is structured around sequences, the inciting incident is often the climax of the first sequence. However, the inciting incident can be almost any event, from an internal decision of the protagonist to a major external event. The inciting incident can also happen anywhere in the first act or in the first couple of sequences of a movie, from the first couple of minutes all the way to the act one climax, 30 to 35 minutes into the movie. This is part of what's exciting about the exciting incident. While most movies, especially Hollywood movies have an inciting incident, there's a wide amount of flexibility and variability in how to create the inciting incident.

Ferris Bueller's Day Off has a somewhat unique inciting incident for a couple of reasons. First, it comes relatively early in the movie. When Ferris wakes up, he basically decides that he doesn't want to go to school that day. In some ways, the movie practically starts with the inciting incident. However, Ferris’s desire to skip school needs to go from an intention to an actual action. This happens when Farris calls Cameron at the seven minute mark and tells him they are going to skip school. This early inciting incident works because it is simple, relatable, and because the movie does an excellent job of developing Ferris as a character very quickly. The early inciting incident also allows for a strong act one goal, for Ferris to convince Cameron to go on an adventure and to get Sloan out of school successfully. The other unique aspect of the inciting incident is that it is an internal decision made by Ferris, and doesn't seem to have any specific motivating factor other than Ferris's desires for that particular day. This might make the inciting incident feel somewhat random, but there's nothing wrong with a random inciting incident, and it still does what a good inciting incident needs to do, which is to change the status quo for the character.

Observation #2:

In a previous breakdown on Back to the Future, we made a comparison between the characters of Marty McFly and Ferris Bueller, and the fact that both seem to be pretty much perfect, flawless characters that have no need for any sort of internal change or growth. This creates the potential danger of having a movie with less depth and meaning, since the protagonist doesn't have an internal goal or conflict. So let's take a look at how that plays out with Ferris. Perhaps even more than Marty, Ferris is the perfect, cool, high school student. While he's a thorn in the side of the principal and his sister resents him, everyone else seems to love Ferris and he has a charisma and magnetism that is infectious to everybody around him. He is completely fearless, ready to try and do anything, and has a perfect relationship with his girlfriend. Having said all of that, Ferris does seem to have some flaws that in other characters might be problematic. He can be smug, superior, and self involved. But for the most part these flaws act as strengths, especially for a high school student. He is able to outwit the annoying principal, outsmart his parents, get away with almost anything all in the service of having a good time with his friends. So where does the movie find its depth and meaning? As with Back to the Future, where the depth and meaning is found not in Marty, but in the change he instigates in his father, Ferris Bueller's Day Off finds its depth in the way in which Ferris is able to change and inspire his best friend Cameron. Cameron is a classic neurotic, anxious and afraid, unwilling to try new things, and afraid of his overbearing father. When Ferris calls Cameron, he is also skipping school, seemingly in a hypochondriacal state. In short, Cameron is a mess. Interestingly, Ferris and Cameron make odd bed fellows, but at the same time it makes sense that Ferris seems to have adopted Cameron, and the movie also seems to hint they have been lifelong friends. Over the course of the movie, Ferris initially seems to selfishly push Cameron into difficult and uncomfortable situations. Cameron seems constantly worried that they'll be caught and struggles to have a good time on their day off, but by the end of the second act he seems to have genuinely enjoyed the day. The problem comes in the final act, when Cameron discovers how many miles have been put on his father's car and worries about the consequences. This is further exacerbated when Ferris's plan to remove the miles by running the car in reverse doesn't work. In a bout of anger, Cameron begins kicking the car until he knocks it off the jack and it drives itself off the elevated carport and crashes into the yard below. Having no choice but to face the music, and inspired by everything he has done during their day off, Cameron seems to finally let go of his anxiety and is willing to face his father regardless of the consequences. This plot line gives the movie the depth and meaning it needs, allowing it to have a fun external plotline, as well as a meaningful internal plot line centered around Cameron's development and change as a character.

Observation #3: 

Our third observation grows out of the relationship between Ferris’s external goal and Cameron's internal goal. Usually external success depends on internal success or vice versa. If the goal climaxes don’t depend on each other they are independent. Here though, Cameron’s internal goal of learning to not be afraid is only partially dependent on Ferris being successful at playing hooky and not getting caught. Cameron’s success at not being afraid is mostly based on playing hooky and the fun they have, and the example of Ferris’s fearless pursuit of joy. However, in Act 3, Ferris must still get home before his parents in order to not get caught. Whether or not Ferris succeeds doesn’t influence Cameron—he has already learned not to be afraid and this is independent of whether Ferris gets home in time. In fact, as the breakdown chart above shows, we can really break Act 3 into two sequences. The first sequence of Act Three is around 12 minutes and runs from the 65 minute mark, which is the end of Act Two, to approximately 87 1/2 minutes. The sequence is defined by Cameron's internal goal of letting go of his fear and anxiety. This occurs at Cameron's house, so leaves Ferris with the external goal of the second sequence of Act Three, which is to get home before his parents. This runs from the 87 1/2 minute mark to around the 99 minute mark with the climax happening around 97 minutes, when Principal Rooney catches Ferris, but his sister covers for him, allowing him to get in bed before his parents arrive. So while Cameron's success at achieving his internal goal is partially dependent on Ferris's external goal of having a successful day off, Ferris can't truly succeed at his external goal unless he gets home before his parents, which depends on him helping Cameron achieve his internal goal before he leaves Cameron's house. So in a way, the success of Ferris's external goal and Cameron's internal goal are circular with each needing to be successful in order for the other to also be successful.

So with my colleagues Daniel and Donavon officially launching the rebrand of their podcast from 241 to Reel Therapy AND the release of what may be the final Mission: Impossible movie (MI:8 The Final Reckoning), this seemed like the perfect opportunity to go back and revisit the original Mission: Impossible film from 1996, directed by the incomparable Brian de Palma . While it’s known for some great suspense and action scene, including the Tom Cruise dangling from the ceiling of the CIA HQ computer room, the movie is actually filled with some really interesting narrative and structural moments. So please read on, and listen to or watch the first edition of Reel Therapy (formerly 241)—and no, this post will NOT self-destruct five seconds after you’re done reading it!

As always, these breakdowns contain SPOILERS, and are only recommended if you've already seen the movie. You can check my introduction to these breakdowns, to get an overview of my process and philosophy.

Feel free to let me know what you think in the comments below!

The Basics

Director: Brian DePalma
Writers: Bruce Geller (Original TV Show), David Koepp, Steven Zaillian
Release Date: 1996
Runtime: 110 Minutes
IMDB: https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0117060

Movie Level Goals

Protagonist: Ethan Hunt
External: To prove his innocence and reveal the mole
SUCCESS | FAILURE | MIXED
Internal: None
SUCCESS | FAILURE | MIXED

Three Observations

Observation #1: Three Acts/Six Sequences

The first thing that stands out about Mission: Impossible Is it three-act, six-sequence structure. It's not the most unusual structure you'll find but it is relatively uncommon. First, more often than not, Hollywood movies will either be structured as acts or sequences. Acts allow for a slightly looser cause-and-effect chain and more sub plots. Sequences, on the other hand, allow for tighter cause-and-effect chains and a tighter focus on the plot line of the protagonist. Having said that, there are plenty of movies in which we can find sequence goals embedded in acts. When I have encountered this kind of structure, it tends to be a four-act structure with either eight or 12 sequences (that is either two or three sequences per act). For example, the Pixar movie The Incredibles, has a four-act 12-sequence structure that is very exact. I think Mission: Impossible has both acts and sequences, because it is really splitting the difference between what act structure and sequence structures do. In particular, sequence structures are most often found in action oriented movies in which we often move from one set piece to the other with very few breaks. Despite the reputation of the Mission: Impossible series as a whole, the first Mission: Impossible actually has very few clearcut action scenes or sequences. Instead, the film is often based around mystery and suspense. If you look at the sequence listed in the table above, you'll find that most of them are either built around suspenseful goals or investigative goals, rather than action goals. The two main action goals can be found in sequence four, in which Ethan attempts to steal the NOC list, and sequence six in which Ethan tries to prove his innocence and stop Jim and Max from executing their plan. Sequences one and two have some action, but are built primarily around suspense (especially sequence two in which Ethan tries to figure out what's going wrong with their plan). Sequence three is primarily built around planning the theft of the NOC list, and sequence five is built around Ethan confirming that Jim is indeed the actual mole. As we know about the Mission: Impossible series, and many other action oriented franchises, movies seem to have gotten longer and longer. With the first Mission: Impossible being released in 1996, we find a shorter and tighter movie. At 106 minutes before the end credits, it makes sense that the movie is three acts rather than four acts. If this movie had been made 10 years later, it would most likely have been four acts, and if it had been made 20 years later it might have even had five acts.

Observation #2: Sequence Two Inciting Incident

Even more unusual than the three-act six-sequence structure, is the placement of the inciting incident. Even when a movie is built around an act structure rather than a sequence structure, it is not uncommon for Act One to feel like it is built around two sequences, and that is because of the inciting incident. Inciting incidents can occur anywhere in Act One from the very first minute all the way to the act climax. However, it is most common for inciting incidents to fall somewhere in the middle of the act, often around the 15-minute mark (Syd Field famously declared that inciting incidents should happen at minute 17). Whether it's the 15-minute mark or the 17-minute mark, if an act is typically around 30 minutes, it makes sense for the inciting incident to occur roughly in the middle. This allows the first half of the act to focus on exposition and character development, as well as setting up the status quo of the protagonist. Once the inciting incident happens, the protagonist either immediately forms a goal which they pursue for the rest of Act One, or they spend the rest of Act One trying to decide whether or not to respond at all or trying to figure out what to do. Because the inciting incident falls in the middle of the act, and because a shortened Act One goal often follows the inciting incident, Act One often looks like it is structured with two sequences (and one could argue that there are two sequences in many first acts). In the set up, the inciting incident basically acts as the climax of the first sequence of Act One. What's interesting about Mission: Impossible, is that the inciting incident happens at the beginning of the second sequence of Act One. The first sequence of Act One starts with the goal of allowing Golitsyn to steal the NOC list. This is actually the status quo for the characters and there really hasn't been an inciting incident up until this point. At the 17 1/2 minute mark, Golitsyn successfully steals the list and the sequence one goal climaxes and seems to be successful. The team must still capture Golitsyn and make sure the list isn't released into the wild, but this seems to be treated as a forgone conclusion by the team. Instead, as Golitsyn leaves with the list and the team follows him, we have a surprising event in the death of the team member Jack (played by Emilio Estevez). This inciting incident happens around the 19 minute mark, and is what changes the status quo for Ethan, as well as setting up the goal for sequence two which is to try to recover the list as he also tries to figure out what's going wrong. While the inciting incident still falls roughly in the middle of the act, especially since the act runs about 32 minutes, placing the inciting incident at the beginning of sequence two rather than the end of sequence one creates surprise for the audience by killing Jack just when we thought the mission had been successful.

Observation #3: The Bible Reveals the Answers

I think the most interesting and unusual aspect of Mission: Impossible is the structure of sequence five. At the end of sequence four, Ethan and his team has have successfully stolen the NOC list. At the beginning of sequence five, the team goes to London and Ethan has a run-in with Krieger who threatens him because he has the NOC list. Ethan bluffs his way out of the situation making Krieger think he doesn't possess the NOC list and manages to get the list away from him. After this tense encounter with Krieger, Ethan sit down at the laptop and notices the Bible sitting on the shelf that he had used earlier to contact Max. He pulls the Bible from the shelf, opens it and sees that it is stamped as being from the Drake hotel in Chicago. At the same time, we hear a voiceover in which Jim admits to staying at the Drake hotel in the same city. Putting 2+2 together, it seems pretty clear that Jim must have used the Bible to communicate with Max, and is therefore the traitor and the mole. I think this is both clear for Ethan and for any audience member who has been paying attention. What's fascinating, is that the goal for the sequence seems to be to figure out who the mole is, but Ethan has done so roughly 3 1/2 minutes into the sequence! How can an entire sequence be built around a goal that is resolved in the first three minutes? I think there are two answers here. The first, is that Ethan wants confirmation that Jim is the mole—after all, as far as Ethan knows, Jim is dead. And second, he wants to work out what Jim's plan is and how he sabotaged the mission in the first and second sequences. At the 79-minute mark, about seven minutes into the sequence, Ethan goes to the train station to call Kittridge, and discovers that Jim is there and is alive. Ethan and Jim sit down in a café, and Jim narrates to Ethan his experience of what went wrong that night, and tries to convince Ethan that Kittridge is the mole. In an extremely clever bit of filmmaking, as Jim narrates his version of events, Ethan visualizes the true version of events with Jim as the mole and saboteur. Jim's narration actually helps Ethan fit the pieces of the puzzle together and understand what must have actually happened. So while he seems to know the identity of the mole for the entire sequence, by the end of the sequence, Ethan has confirmed that Jim is alive and is the mole, and has figured out how he sabotaged the mission. Of course, Ethan doesn't reveal this information, and plays along with Jim heading into the final sequence. He does this for a number of reasons including the fact that he is not sure whether Claire is part of Jim's plan, and because he wants to make sure that Kittridge witnesses the truth for himself, which will clear Ethan as the mole.

Observation #4: It’s okay to be successful

My short, final observation is about a commonly misconceived belief about the success or failure of goals. Most screenwriting “gurus" insist that protagonist must face failure or at some point reach rock-bottom. While this is often the case, and can increase the stakes and drama of the story, it is certainly not necessary for a movie to be compelling. Mission: Impossible is a perfect example. If you look at the chart above, you'll notice that for each of the six sequences, Ethan successfully completes every single goal. When you look at the goals for the three acts, it is true that despite being successful in both sequence one and sequence too, Ethan does fail at his act one goal. However, it's clear that Ethan is largely successful in almost everything he sets out to do. While I think this is due to the fact that Ethan is Ethan, and we expect him to be successful, it doesn't mean that we still don't have suspense and high stakes throughout the movie. One might argue that confirming Jim is the traitor at the end of sequence five marks a low point for Ethan, but he is already two steps ahead, and is planning how to take down Jim in the final sequence. I think the larger takeaway here is that there is no formula for how to climax sequences or acts. Protagonist may or may not succeed at their goals, but each movie and plot has its own needs for whether the protagonist succeeds or fails at those goals, and there is no one right way to handle those climaxes.

So for the past 5+ years, I’ve been an occasional collaborator with my good friends (and former students) Donavon Thompson and Daniel Wingfield on their fantastic 241 Studios podcast. I’ve proudly and happily been a guest on 29 episodes of the 241 Podcast (most of which I’ve also featured on The Hutch Files). For episode #241 the guys and I decided to breakdown and discuss Back to the Future, directed by Robert Zemeckis and starring Michael J. Fox, Lea Thompson, and Christopher Lloyd. This is an especially portentous episode, because it’s the LAST episode of the 241 Studios podcast. But FEAR NOT, the guys will be back soon with a new name and look, and we’ll continue our discussions and breakdowns as part of their new endeavor. In fact, we’ve already planned our next breakdown.

So check out my analysis below and watch or listen to the podcast. And one final important note: while I really like Back to the Future, I don’t think it’s the best movie ever made, as the graphic below implies! As for Donavon…I’ll let you ask him!

As always, these breakdowns contain SPOILERS, and are only recommended if you've already seen the movie. You can check my introduction to these breakdowns, to get an overview of my process and philosophy.

Feel free to let me know what you think in the comments below!

The Basics

Director: Robert Zemeckis
Writers: Robert Zemeckis and Bob Gale
Release Date: 1985
Runtime: 116 Minutes
IMDB: https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0088763

Movie Level Goals

Protagonist: Marty
External: To get Back to the Future
SUCCESS | FAILURE | MIXED
Internal: None for Marty. However, George must develop the self-belief to kiss Lorraine
SUCCESS | FAILURE | MIXED
Goal Relationship—Internal leads to External: This is an example of the external and internal goals being split among two characters. Here Marty is already a fully realizes character, so he must help his father George have the self confidence to kiss Lorraine. Once Marty helps George succeed at this goal, he is freed to go Back to the Future without his family disappearing.

Three Observations

Observation #1: Marty’s Lack of an Internal Goal

Many people lament that more screenplays aren't written with the care and attention to detail of Back to the Future. And indeed, many contemporary screenplays don't live up to the craft of this now 40 year-old movie. However, one aspect of the screenplay and movie that might suffer compared to contemporary films is Marty's lack of an internal goal. In most Hollywood movies today, protagonists have both an external goal which structures the movie, and an internal goal which provides growth and meaning for both the character and the audience. Marty, on the other hand functions much like a superhero, in that he is fully formed, and shows little growth from the beginning to the end of the movie. This same criticism could be leveled at other movies from the 1980s. In particular, Ferris Bueller's Day Off feels quite similar in having a protagonist that is fully formed and who never changes over the course of the movie. In this way, they feel like Indiana Jones or James Bond; despite being teenagers, they often seem to have all of the answers and the tools they need to succeed at their external goal.

Having said that, I think the situation is a little more complicated. Generally, when we talk about protagonists in Hollywood movies, we say that they either need to change themselves, or change the people and world around them. Neither Marty nor Ferris change themselves. However both protagonists change characters around them, which creates an unusual and compelling structure. In Back to the Future, while Marty provides the structure with his external goal of saving his family and getting back to the future, it is his father George who provides the internal goal. In order for Marty's family to be preserved, George must gather the strength to kiss Lorraine at the dance. Rather than developing this courage on his own, and splitting the protagonist into two characters, it is Marty who helps George develop the self-confidence that he needs to kiss Lorraine. In this way, Marty is still the one who saves his family. Furthermore, although Marty himself doesn't provide the full emotional investment for the audience, his actions in conjunction with his father give us the internal goal and meaning needed to provide a complex structured and meaningful film. Likewise, in Ferris Bueller's Day Off (which I'll be posting about soon) Ferris has a similar relationship to his best friend Cameron.

Despite all of the attention and care that Back to the Future is known for, and the way in which it cleverly develops an internal goal for George, the movie also sets up but fails to deliver a potential internal goal for Marty. After he auditions for the school dance with his band and is rejected, his girlfriend Jennifer encourages him to send his audition tape to the record company. However, echoing words that we'll also hear from his father, Marty it's hesitant because he is worried the record company will reject his tape. This is an interesting moment as it tries to show that Marty has inherited the same lack of confidence that his father suffers from in this timeline. It also sets up the possibility of having Marty need to develop self-confidence in order to succeed at his external goal. However, this lack of self-confidence as a character trait is largely dropped and never seen again over the course of the rest of the movie. Especially when he travels to the past, Marty is supremely confident, constantly getting one over on Biff and encouraging George to have the self-confidence to stand up to bullying, to ask Lorraine to the dance, and of course to kiss her.

Observation #2: The Two Goal Setup at the End of Act 2

Although a lot of Back to the Future is praised for is it clever tying together of ideas, and set ups and payoffs, it's efficient storytelling and structure are also praise worthy. In particular the end of act two offers an interesting set up for the second half of the movie. As Marty and Doc try to figure out how to send Marty back to the future, they develop the plan of harnessing the bolt of lightning that will hit the clock tower on the night of the dance. At the same time, Marty looks at a photo of his family and sees that they are beginning to disappear. This sets up two problems that need to be solved for Marty to return home. First, he needs to make sure that George kisses Lorraine at the dance so that his parents end up together. Second, he and Doc need to make sure that the plan at the clock tower works perfectly, so that Marty's time machine has the power to travel back to the future. This double set up at the end of act two, forecast the structure for the rest of the movie. Act three primarily focuses on Marty's goal of making sure that George and Lorraine end up together, though during this act, we also see Doc in one or two scenes preparing for the lightning strike at the Clocktower. Once Marty succeeds with his act three goal, we already know what the goal for Act four will be: get to the clock tower and get back to the future. This clever bit of storytelling at the end of act two provides the perfect roadmap for the audience to understand where the rest of the movie will go. It also cleverly sets up a dual ticking clock deadline (no pun intended). First, as act three progresses, Marty constantly looks at the photo and sees more and more of his family disappearing. He knows that he must succeed, before his family disappears from the photo entirely. Secondly, we know the exact moment when the lightning will strike the clock tower and both Marty and the audience know that he needs to get into the car and time his drive perfectly to the lightning strike.

Observation #3: Johnny B. Goode

This final observation is a minor one, but I think also serves as an excellent lesson in not being a slave to plotting. The typical Hollywood arch plot is built around a tight cause and effect chain. Goals lead to actions, actions lead to conflict, and conflicts lead to reactions. Each scene is generally set up by the previous scene, and the cause and effect chain keeps the movie moving forward at a tight, quick pace. Overall, Back to the Future is very good at working in this fashion. However, one major exception is when Marty decides to play Johnny B. Goode. After Marvin Barry injures his hand, Marty's only hope of getting his father and mother together is to step in and play guitar. He does this, and of course George and Lorraine dance and despite the minor conflict of someone cutting in, George succeeds and finally kisses Lorraine. This is the climax of act three, and should lead to Marty immediately leaving the dance and heading to the clocktower. In fact, Marty unslings his guitar and seems ready to leave. However Marvin, impressed by Marty's playing, invites him to play another song. Marty initially refuses but with a little more encouragement from Marvin, agrees to play one more song. This happens just after the 87 minute mark, and the movie spends roughly 4-minutes on Marty playing Johnny B. Goode, which initially impresses the kids from the 50s before eventually leaving them bewildered as Marty transitions into an increasingly hard rock style of playing. Finally, Marty wraps things up, says goodbye to his parents, and heads to the clock tower. The scene nicely parallels Marty's desire to play at the school dance in the present, and by being able to play here he does fulfill that dream, which is exactly the type of set up and pay off the movie is known for. But other than allowing Marty to say goodbye to George and Lorraine, this 4-minute scene does not actually advance the plot in any way shape or form. A producer or director focused exclusively on advancing the plot would have immediately advocated cutting this scene. Of course, it's one of the most famous scenes in the movie, and perhaps one of the most famous scenes from a Hollywood film of the 1980s. All of this goes to show that even in a tightly constructed Hollywood movie, there still has to be room for play and moments that please the audience, even if they don't advance the plot.

Well here we are! After much effort and a few delays, we’ve finally arrived at the breakdown for the fifth and final movie of the Twilight Saga. I hope you've enjoyed and gained inside into the first four movies, and hope you'll find the same in this final breakdown. Big thanks go to Rachel Elizabeth and Erin Mitchell who did the breakdowns for the first Twilight and Twilight New Moon. It was actually the popularity of their breakdowns that led me to go ahead and break down the remaining three movies.

As always, these breakdowns contain SPOILERS, and are only recommended if you've already seen the movie. You can check my introduction to these breakdowns, to get an overview of my process and philosophy.

Feel free to let me know what you think in the comments below!

The Basics

Director: Bill Condon
Writers: Melissa Rosenberg, Stephanie Meyer
Release Date: 2012
Runtime: 115 Minutes
IMDB: https://www.imdb.com/title/tt1673434/

Movie Level Goals
Protagonist: Bella
External: Survive the threat of the Volturi
SUCCESS | FAILURE | MIXED
Internal: Develop her vampire powers to shield (take care of Edward)
SUCCESS | FAILURE | MIXED
Goal Relationship—Internal leads to External: Bella must develop her shielding skills in order to survive the threat of the Volturi

Three Observations

Observation #1: No Inciting Incident

Twilight Breaking Dawn Part 2 might be one of the only arch-plots I've seen with no inciting incident. At the end of Breaking Dawn Part One, the final shot is of Bella opening her eyes, awake and alive as a vampire. When Breaking Dawn Part 2 begins, we basically start in the same place as at the end of Part One. In essence, her waking up as a vampire is the inciting incident for the final installment. Obviously, if she had not survived and become a vampire, we wouldn't have a final movie. Instead, however, Bella does survive and she immediately has an act one goal of adjusting to being a vampire and all of the advantages, challenges, and conflicts that go with that. By having the inciting incident occur at the end of the previous movie or immediately at the beginning of this one, Breaking Dawn Part 2 is freed to spend the entire first act dealing with Bella's goal of adjusting to being a vampire. This is important, because there is a lot for her to do to make this adjustment. These include: meeting her child for the first time, discovering that Jacob has imprinted on Renesmee, having sex with Edward as an equal, dealing with Charlie, and embracing her powers as a vampire. Though a big part of the reasoning for including the inciting incident at the end of the previous movie is based on the fact that the filmmakers chose to split the final book into two movies, the choice is also a smart one from a dramatic point of view. By not having to wait to establish an inciting incident, act one is free to immediately dive into Bella's goal of adjusting to life as a vampire, and is able to spend all of the 30 minutes of the act dealing with the various subplots involved with this goal (especially the subplot in involving Charlie, since after act one we never see him again).

Observation #2: The Scope of Act 2

Throughout the Twilight series, we are incredibly aligned with Bella. We rarely have scenes that don't involve her, unless we are getting a glimpse at the actions of her antagonists. However, the second act of Part Two broadens the scope of the story. While Bella is still involved in most of the scenes, the act two goals necessitate inclusion and development of a lot more characters. We really see two primary goals unfold over the course of act two. The first one is for Bella and the Cullens to find and gather witnesses to testify that Renesmee is not an "Immortal Child" and a threat to the order of vampires. The second one is for Bella to develop her vampire powers as a shield. While the second goal is obviously very focused on Bella, the first one is much more expansive. Bella is certainly involved in this goal, for example when she, Edward, and Renesmee travel to Alaska to recruit the Denali cousins. However, we also have a number of scenes that don't involve Bella, including when Carlisle and Esme travel to Egypt and when we meet some of the other witnesses, like Garrett. This broadening of scope is definitely in line with the shift of the plot in this final movie. Even as they deal with external threats, the goals and structure of the first four movies have revolved primarily around the romance of Bella and Edward. By Part Two, however the romance has been fully developed and the primary focus is on the external threat of the Volturi.

Observation #3: The Act 3 Denouement

This leads to our third observation, which is the extended denouement of act three. One of the distinguishing features of the Twilight series has been extended scenes or sequences which don't directly involve act or even movie level goals. Throughout the movies, especially in their endings, we've seen the movies shift away from plot in order to spend time with, and revel in, the romance of Bella and Edward. For example, at the end of the original Twilight we have nearly a full sequence that just focuses on Bella and Edward attending the senior prom. Likewise, at the end of the third movie, after the main plot has wrapped up, we have an extended denouement where Bella reaffirms her desire to be a vampire. The extended denouement in act three of Part Two is probably the shortest but most important of any of them. Technically, it only runs about six minutes. However I think it's worth noting the additional three minutes given to the extended credits that recognize all of the important characters going all the way back to the first movie. Add them together, and this final nine minutes is vital to wrapping up the entire series. So much of part two has focused primarily on the threat of the Volturi and the external plotline. This final denouement allows us to return to the heart and soul of the Twilight series, which is the romance between Bella and Edward. Bella reaffirms her undying love for Edward, and the fact that they will be together forever. This is a clever and wonderful ending, because it takes the teenage idea that a high school romance can last forever and makes it literal by having our two characters be immortal (the perfect wish fulfillment for the primarily young audience of the series). The review of all of the primary characters in the credits, reinforces the epic nature of their romance, by highlighting all of the people involved, and making it seem like this has been an epic, long story, despite the fact that it really only unfolds over a couple of years.

Mini-Observation #4: Three Acts

One last note worth mentioning is that Breaking Dawn Part 2 is the only one of the five movies that has three acts rather than four. The obvious reason for this goes back to some of the major points made in the breakdown of Part One, which is that we have one book that has been split into two movies. We already noted in the breakdown for Part One, that there was some padding in order to flesh out an entire movie. Clearly, there simply wasn't enough content and plot to have a fourth act in the final movie.

Conclusion

So we finally made it through all five movies of the Twilight saga! Along with my colleagues Rachel Elisabeth and Erin Mitchell, it's been a lot of fun really digging into this entire series. At first glance, it might be easy to be dismissive of the Twilight series, and feel like there's not much to learn from them. However, I think that would do a great disservice to the variety of structural and narrative choices made by the filmmakers throughout the series. From the extended denouements found in many of the movies, to the focus on rites of passage, to the choice of starting the final movie without an inciting incident, to the revolutionary idea in a Hollywood movie that a female protagonist could love and choose between two romantic interests, the Twilight series constantly challenges the norms and narrative assumptions of Hollywood movies.

Well, it’s taken a while with the end of the semester, but I’ve finally finished by breakdowns for Breaking Dawn Parts 1 & 2. Because these two movies are adapted from one book, they both present some challenges to analyzing and breaking them down. When books adaptations are split across two movies, there are generally two reasons: 1) the book is big and can’t fit into one movie and 2) the producers want to split the story into two movies to increase profits. Of course, there can be a little of each, and besides Twilight, we’ve seen this happen with series like The Hunger Games and Harry Potter. However, I will say that of those three, The Twilight Saga’s reasons for two final movies seems heavily balanced toward reason #2, the desire to increase profits. As we’ll see in both Part 1 and Part 2 we have acts and sequences with weaker goals, less conflict, and generally more “filling.” Having said that, all of the Twilight movies have had scenes and sequences that purposefully dwell on otherwise low-conflict moments, valuing the importance of the important moments in the relationship of Bella and Edward. So the “filling” in Parts 1 & 2 is partly justified in keeping with the tone of the earlier movies. So, lets’s take a look at Breaking Dawn Part 1!

As always, these breakdowns contain SPOILERS, and are only recommended if you've already seen the movie. You can check my introduction to these breakdowns, to get an overview of my process and philosophy.
Feel free to let me know what you think in the comments below!

The Basics

Director: Bill Condon
Writers: Melissa Rosenberg, Stephanie Meyer
Release Date: 2011
Runtime: 117 Minutes
IMDB: https://www.imdb.com/title/tt1324999

Movie Level Goals

Protagonist: Bella
External: Have her baby and survive
SUCCESS | FAILURE | MIXED
Internal/Relationship Goal: None

Three Observations

Observation #1: The Low Conflict Act 1

The padding of Breaking Dawn Parts One and Two starts immediately in the first act. The entire act is built around the wedding of Bella and Edward, with the inciting incident occurring around the 15 minute mark when they actually get married. The act has very little conflict centering almost entirely on the preparations for the wedding, the wedding itself, and the party afterwards. There is some minor conflict, often played for laughs, for example when Charlie sees the graduation cap artwork, and his general nervousness at seeing Bella. The only major conflict comes around the 25 minute mark when Bella leaves the party to go see Jacob who hasn't attended the wedding. At first, they are both happy to see each other. However, when Jacob realizes that Bella will be human when they go on their honeymoon, he has his usual Jacob meltdown, assuming that if Bella and Edward have sex, Bella won't survive. Having said that, there is a general precedent for the Twilight series to spend more time than typical on rites of passage (see observation number two). For example, the first twilight movie spends quite a bit of time in the final act on Bella and Edward's graduation, and the dance afterward.

Observation #2: Acts Built Around Rites of Passage

Despite Bella’s rebellious nature, the Twilight series as a whole tends to be conservative. I don't necessarily mean politically, but more in the sense that it values traditional rites of passage. This makes sense for a couple of reasons. First, of course, the author of the novels, Stephanie Meyer, is a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. Secondly, and more importantly, the movies (and novels) are primarily aimed at heterosexual teenage girls, who might be assumed to be looking forward to, an excited for, the various upcoming rights of passage that girls and young women participate in. As mentioned above, the first Twilight movie places strong emphasis on Bella's graduation from high school. Even more strikingly, Breaking Dawn Part One is built almost entirely around the expected rights of passage of a young woman. In fact, the structure is literally built around these moments. Act one centers entirely on Bella and Edward's marriage. Act two centers on their honeymoon, and Bella's loss of virginity (after their marriage of course, as insisted upon by Edward). Finally, act three focuses on Bella's pregnancy and the delivery of her child Renesmee.

Observation #3: The Final Sequence

As mentioned in Observation #1, the first act has a significant amount of padding to fill out the first 30 minutes of the movie with Bella and Edward's wedding. While the second act relies on a number of montages highlighting both the honeymoon, and Bella's almost humorous attempts to seduce Edward, it does have quite a bit more conflict than act one. Additionally, act three is also filled with conflict, as the child that Bella carries threatens to literally eat her alive from the inside. This creates lots of conflicts between Bella and Edward and Bella and Jacob, as well as creating new alliances, primarily between Bella and Rosalee, but also between Edward and Jacob. Of course, there is also the conflict between Bella and the baby, as Bella's health deteriorates over the course of her accelerated pregnancy. Act three climaxes with the birth of Renesmee, and with a typical structure around these rites of passage, it would seem natural that the movie would end shortly after her birth. However, of course, there is a major conflict that accompanies the birth of the child, namely that Bella seems to have died giving birth. Normally, this might be a cliffhanger on which the movie ends, leaving the audience wondering and having to wait until the start of the final movie in the series to find out the fate of Bella. Instead though, Breaking Dawn Part One adds a 15-minute sequence after the birth of Renesmee dealing with Bella's death. Events in the last 15 minutes include Edward trying to resuscitate Bella, Billy thinking Bella is dead, Jacob imprinting on Renesmee, the wolf clan calling off their death sentence of the Cullens, the hints that Bella may actually be alive, and then the final shot of the movie in which Bella opens her eyes, and we discover that she is indeed alive. It seems like much of this could have been winnowed down, or better yet included in the first act of Part Two. As we'll see though, in the breakdown of Part Two, there are reasons why the filmmakers seem to have decided to include these events in an extended ending in Part One. But you're going to have to wait for the final installment of the Twilight breakdowns to find out why.

Well, I’m still hard at work breaking down Twilight Breaking Dawn Parts 1 and 2. It’s the end of the semester, so I haven’t had as much time to finish up my write-ups, but hopefully you’ll see them soon.

So as a follow-up to my look at close-ups in Barry Jenkins’ If Beale Street Could Talk, I thought I’d share the second-half of my Directing course discussions, by looking at the use of two-shots in Celine Sciamma’s gorgeous and amazing Portrait of a Lady on Fire.

Two-shots are sort of the under-appreciated work horse of cinema. A lot of filmmakers seem to settle for pretty standard two-shots, often because they are just establishing shots used before moving into closer views. Generally these find characters either facing each other:

Or shoulder to shoulder:

Additionally, the most frequently used two-shot is actually the over-the-shoulder shot (OTS). On its own, one OTS shot is not a great two-shot.

A closed-off OTS only shows the face of one character, and the back of the other:

A more open OTS can show the faces of both characters, though generally one is more in profile:

This is why the OTS is the most common shot in the shot/reverse shot series, which in essence stitches two shots together to create a “complete” two shot.

However, in the hands of a creative director, the two-shot can be an aesthetically beautiful, well-composed shot in its own right. And plenty of filmmakers have created wonderful two-shots. But it’s not often that an entire movie is built almost entirely around two-shots in the way that Celine Sciamma does with Portrait of a Lady on Fire. In fact, there are few over the shoulder shots in Portrait, and when there are, they rarely fall into a predictable shot reverse shot series. Why are two-shots so important in Portrait? It’s pretty straight-forward—it’s a romance and showing the characters together in two shots is more important than showing them in single or close-up shots. Of course, there are plenty of single shots, especially earlier in the movie before the romance forms, and later, in a key scene where the two protagonists Marianne (Noemie Merlant) and Helene (Adele Haenel) have an argument.

So let’s take a look at some of the gorgeous two-shots of Portrait of a Lady on Fire:

The film starts with a stacked two-shot of two art students which will foreshadow the first two-shot of Marianne and Helene:

Early two-shots in the movie are similar to two-shots we’re often used to seeing in movies, including shoulder to shoulder, facing, and over the shoulder shots:

Our first two-shot of Marianne and Helene is a cleverly disguised shot, that initially only shows Marianne, before revealing Helene, their faces merged, foreshadowing their future romance.

The next few two-shots of Marianne and Helen are less intimate, as the two characters are still feeling each other out, and one keeps a secret from the other (that Marianne has been hired to superstitiously paint a wedding portrait of Helene, who refuses to sit for one because she doesn't want to marry).

The beach becomes a key place for bonding between the two characters, but early on they sit farther apart or are subtly angled away from each other:

Finally, in a key scene, Marianne describes orchestral music to Helene (who has only heard the organ at church), and plays pieces of Vivaldi’s Four Seasons, creating the first true bond between them. As we see in the next four frames, the two-shots become more and more intimate as the scene progresses. In fact, there are no singles or close-ups in the scene:

At the end of the Vivaldi scene, however, Marianne tries to comfort Helene over her upcoming nuptials, but the attempt backfires, and later on the two-shots are framed as frontal OTS shots, separating the two women.

Despite their momentary misunderstanding, the next time we see them on the beach, they are closer and angled toward one another, in a more intimate pose than we have seen in previous scenes on the beach:

Of course, there are other characters in the story, and in a key scene Helene agrees to sit for a portrait, but her mother will be departing for the week. Though both shots are somewhat standard, Helene’s caress of her mother shows how much subtle blocking and posing can turn a standard two-shot into something special:

Once Helene begins to sit for Marianne, the initial interaction is awkward and forced as Marianne positions Helene:

From here, the two-shots become more interestingly framed:

And the next time Helene sits for Marianne, their positioning is more intimate and sensual:

And finally, in an almost perfect combination of costuming, blocking, and posing Sciamma uses a standard facing two-shot to finally have Marianne and Helene kiss for the first time. Note how clearly we can see both characters’ faces (once they remove their scarves):

It’s worth noting that in many kissing scenes, character are shot over the shoulder, or even more shockingly one character’s hand covers the camera facing side of the other character (this is often standard in heterosexual kissing scenes where the man’s hand almost completely covers the woman’s face). The result, either way, is that one or both of the characters’ faces are completely blocked, taking away the intimacy of the moment:

In the next kissing scene between Marianne and Helene, we start in a longer wide shot, before Marianne turns, then leans her head back to kiss Helene. Even with Helene’s hand prominent in the shot, Marianne’s face is clearly visible:

In the final shot of the series, Marianne turns the rest of the way around, and we get a beautiful pose where each character buries her head in the crook of the neck of the other, reflecting the melancholy of a relationship that they (and we) know won’t last.

In an important subplot, the servant in Helene’s home, Sophie chooses to have an abortion. We initially see the difficulty Marianne and Helene have watching, but Sciamma turns the moment into one of grace and understanding as Sophie lays next to an infant during the procedure:

In an earlier scene, Marianne has told Helene that she is not allowed to paint nude men because then she will be unable to paint the most important subjects (not being familiar with male anatomy). So that night, Helene decides that Marianne should paint the moment of the abortion, redefining what important subject matters are, and that they don’t have to involve men:

Afterwards, with their love affair in full blossom, Marianne and Helene are portrayed by Sciamma in a variety of two-shots, some familiar, others unique in their posing and intimacy:

Finally, with Marianne and Helene’s time coming to an end, Sciamma poses their final scene on the beach in a two-shot that is an almost identical pose to the standing two-shot of their second kiss, but this time with the Marianne holding Helene, rather than the reverse:

On their final night together we see them in bed, the first shot being the only true overhead of the two, and the second recalling their opening two shot, in which their two faces are merged:

The next morning the two-shot transitions from a more intimate shot, to a less intimate one, as Marianne corsets Helena, literally tying a bow on the end of their relationship:

And finally, in their last two-shot together, Marianne grasps Helene and hugs her. In this moment, we are aligned with Marianne and their pose puts her face in front of Helene’s, and neither she, nor we, can see Helene’s face. Perhaps it is simply too painful:

In a contemporary cinema of small screens, the close-up has become king. At its best the close-up is unique in its power to show the emotional intimacy of a single character. But emotion almost always grows out of relationships, and in Portrait of a Lady on Fire, Celine Sciamma privileges the relationship of two women through her amazing use of the two-shot.

While I’m hard at work Breaking Down Twilight Breaking Dawn Parts 1 and 2, I haven’t quite finished them yet (even though I’m breaking them down as separate movies, I want to watch and break them both down before I write up my observations).

So in the meantime, I thought this might be a good time for a simple post that highlights some other aspects of film analysis I do, often for my classes. Last week in my Directing course, we took a look at the basic mechanics of using close-ups, over the shoulder shots, and shot reverse shots, especially in dialogue scenes. Our sample film was Barry Jenkins’ fantastic If Beale Street Could Talk, based on the novel by James Baldwin.

What separates Jenkins’ work from that of a lot of his contemporaries is his gorgeous use of the close-up (shot by James Laxton, who has also lensed most of Jenkins’ other work including Moonlight and The Underground Railroad).

So with that in mind, I thought I’d showcase some of the great close-ups (and medium close-ups) featured in Beale Street.

One of the main features of the Jenkins close-up is having characters look directly into the camera, often in a centered composition (especially for the protagonist), and shallow depth of field (quite common in many close-ups). Lighting is soft and flattering, often with highlighting, often but not always tonally warm:

It’s notable that characters who are antagonistic to the main characters are also featured looking directly into the camera, though their lighting is less flattering:

Sometimes characters look directly into the camera in extreme close-ups, with the eye the center of focus:

Of course, characters don’t have to look into the camera. In the more standard close-up characters may still be centered or off-center in a shot/reverse shot setup:

Sometimes the close-up is a slightly wider 3/4 profile, maybe in a wide over the shoulder, or sometimes in a single:

Or perhaps in a full profile:

Though the close-up that breaks the fourth wall may be his signature close-up, it’s the breadth and depth of his close-ups that I think is truly impressive, creating an emotional connection with his the characters that demonstrates how important style is to developing character and narrative.

After the extreme popularity of our posts for Twilight and The Twilight Saga: New Moon, it’s clear we have no other option than to continue the series, this week with The Twilight Saga: Eclipse. Eclipse is a fascinating movie, in some ways it’s the most complex and revolutionary of the series, and in other ways it seems to be running in place, not really offering anything new in comparison to what came before or what comes after. So, let’s dive into the continuing battle of Team Edward versus Team Jacob, and see what makes Eclipse the movie it is.

As always, these breakdowns contain SPOILERS, and are only recommended if you've already seen the movie. You can check my introduction to these breakdowns, to get an overview of my process and philosophy.

Feel free to let me know what you think in the comments below!

The Basics

Director: David Slade
Writers: Melissa Rosenberg, Stephanie Meyer
Release Date: 2010
Runtime: 124 Minutes
IMDB: https://www.imdb.com/title/tt1325004

Movie Level Goals

Protagonist: Bella
External: Survive Victoria, the Newborn Army, and the Volturi
SUCCESS | FAILURE | MIXED
InternalGoal: Choose between who she is vs. who people think she should be
SUCCESS | FAILURE | MIXED
Goal Relationship: Bella must experience the full range of vampire danger and experiences and hear from all parties before she can decide to be who she is (not normal, and therefore a vampire)

Three Observations

Observation #1: Stronger External, But Focus on Internal

In the previous Twilight movies, especially the first one, the external goal is built around the romance, with very little action providing structural goals at the external level. In Eclipse, we have a more conventional structure (sort of), with a more clear cut action-oriented external goal structure. In the original Twilight, the action-oriented threat provided by James is barely mentioned until the climax of Act 3 and the first half of Act 4. In Eclipse, the action-oriented goal structure is developed immediately, and provides the movie-level goal (survive Victoria, etc.) and provides structure for each act. However, if you look at the Act level goals, you’ll see that Bella is quite passive in the pursuit of these goals:

• Act 2 External: Edward and Jacob protecting Bella

• Act 3 External: Prepare for the battle (largely carried out by Edward, Jacob, Alice, the Cullens, the wolves etc.)

• Act 4 External: Defeat Victoria (Edward), Defeat the Army (Cullens and the wolves)

So the big question is what is Bella up to through most of the movie? She isn’t active when it comes to the external goals of the movie, but of course she’s still in the majority of the scenes and doing something. Despite the addition of an action-oriented goal structure, Bella actually spends most of her time pursuing her internal goal, which echoes both the external relationship goal of the original Twilight and the more internally-based relationship goal of New Moon (more on this in Observation #2).

As noted above, that internal goal, on the surface is positioned less as pursuing Edward or Jacob, but instead deciding on what kind of person she wants to be. As she states at the end of the movie, “This was a choice between who I should be and who I am. I’ve never felt normal because I’m not normal. I’ve never felt stronger, more real, more myself. It’s my world too [the world of vampires], it’s where I belong.” So even though she’s declared that she wants to be a vampire, Bella spends much of the move internally debating and deciding for sure that this is what she wants.

In some ways this handled quite subtlety. Of course, she does talk about becoming a vampire with Edward and Jacob, but it seems largely on the surface that she’s already decided. However, when you look at the number of scenes, especially in Act 2, in which Bella listens to others talk about their choices in life, you realize that all of these scenes are informing her thoughts about being a vampire. In Act 2 alone, they include:

• Edward talking about the nature of souls

• Jacob talking about love, and how being with him would be as easy as breathing

• Billy telling the tribal stories about vampires and wolves

• Rosalie discussing the lack of choices she had in becoming a vampire, and the choices she no longer has a vampire

• Jessica, in her graduation speech, discussing the idea that people should be figuring life out and making mistakes in their 20’s.

In Act 3, Bella wonders if sex with Edward will be different as a vampire and also worries that he won’t like her as much without the warmth, flesh, and blood of being human. In Act 4, she witnesses the positives and negatives of humanity versus being a vampire when she nearly freezes to death and is helpless in fighting Victoria and the army. And, of course, she kisses Jacob, realizes she loves him too, but can’t accept living life simply as a human being.

Observation #2: The Emperor’s New Clothes

This focus on Bella’s choice to be a vampire, is both clever and complex, and also repetitive and simplistic. On the clever side, Act 2 is especially compelling in having Bella listen to the various people in her life discuss the nature of being alive, choices in their lives, and give their opinions on humans versus vampires. At times, Bella actively engages in these discussions, especially with Edward and Jacob. At other times, she simply listens, as with Rosalie and Jessica, but everything she’s taking in is informing her decision. Likewise, in Acts 3 and 4, her thought process is more inferred than implied. She watches the events around her and they all inform her decision that she needs to be a vampire.

On the other hand, this whole process feels somewhat repetitive. She has already decided in the first two movies that she loves Edward over Jacob, and that she wants to be a vampire. In particular, her interactions with Jacob, seem largely repetitive of those in New Moon, with Jacob continuing to pressure her into being with him and to not be a vampire. Though Bella realizes she loves Jacob as well, and willingly kisses him, it doesn’t change the decision we are already certain of: that she will stay with Edward and wants to become a vampire. Though her internal conflict is dressed in new clothes (whether to become a vampire), it is basically at its core the same conflict we’ve already seen (choosing Edward versus Jacob).

Having said that, one of the most compelling aspects of the Twilight series, and especially Eclipse, is that Bella is the one who chooses. She gets to decide between Edward and Jacob. In the end, they must accept her decision, and in fact, the movie gives us the pretty revolutionary idea that she can indeed be in love with two men at the same time (much like The Hunger Games), and in some ways the justification for choosing Edward is that this comes with being a vampire (i.e. choosing a non-normal life).

Observation #3: The Final Act Multiple Climaxes

In both the original Twilight and in New Moon, Act 4, is divided into sequences with multiple climaxes that revolve around different aspects of the external and internal goals. Eclipse is no different, with a series of three mini-climaxes in the first half of Act 4, and one additional climax at the end of the movie in the second half of Act 4. As the chart above notes, we have climaxes revolving around Edward killing Victoria (external), Jacob kissing Bella (internal), and the Volturi (Jane) choosing not to escalate the situation and leaving peacefully (external). The second half of the Act, much like the original Twilight, feels like a stretched out epilogue, but comes with the important reaffirmation by Bella that she wants to be a vampire, because she doesn’t feel normal and she belongs in the world of vampires. In the end, as the middle of five, New Moon is sort of like the Marsha of the Twilight movies: struggling to stand out, at times making bold choices, but still in the shadows of the original’s intense romance and the finale’s gonzo action.

I’m incredibly excited to introduce a new set of contributors to The Hutch Files—my students in the Storytelling 4 class in the MFA Program at the University of Central Arkansas. Over the next few weeks, I’ll be posting their structure breakdowns on some of their own favorite films. I think they’ve done an incredible job and bring some great insights to the films they’ve chosen. Please see their individual bylines at the top of each post. So here we go:

This week, we are taking a look at the Twilight Saga’s New Moon directed by Chris Weitz and starring Kristen Stewart and Robert Pattinson. This film, as part of the iconic teen fantasy series, was surprisingly dynamic in act structure. We’ll dive into the mythic love triangle of the millennial generation… but be warned- A Twilight film is like a chip-you can’t just have one.

As always, these breakdowns contain SPOILERS, and are only recommended if you've already seen the movie. You can check the introduction to these breakdowns, to get an overview of the process and philosophy.

The Basics

Director: Chris Weitz
Writers: Stephenie Meyer, Melissa Rosenberg
Release Date: 2009
Runtime: 130 Minutes
IMDB: https://www.imdb.com/title/tt1259571/   

Movie Level Goals

Protagonist(s): Bella
External Goal: Convince Edward to turn her into a vampire
SUCCESS | FAILURE | MIXED
Edward reluctantly agrees to turn Bella sometime in the future after being pressured by the Volturi, who had tried to kill them. But only if she agrees to marry him.
Internal Goal: Figure out her feelings for Jacob
SUCCESS | FAILURE | MIXED
Bella decides that her romantic feelings for Edward outweigh her feelings for Jacob
Goal Relationship: Internal leads to External. Bella chooses Edward definitively (internal goal) which leads to her full pursuit of Edward and being turned into a vampire by him.

Three Observations

Observation 1: The Juxtaposition of Edward & Jacob

I felt like the storytelling in Acts 1 & 2 do really well to create a juxtaposition of the two supernatural love interests in the story, Edward and Jacob. Edward breaks up with Bella in the first act because he questions her safety around his family after she is nearly killed over a papercut at her birthday party. Her mortality and natural bodily functions are dangerous for her to experience in front of Edward and his family, underscoring the fact that she is an outsider. On the other hand, in Act 2, Bella crashes her motorcycle and gashes her head open. Jacob runs to her aid, and she doesn’t have to be afraid of him. He instead comforts her and tells her not to apologize for what is natural. This places their characters at polar opposites of each other, which leads us into the third act, which unveils the Cullen’s history with Jacob’s tribe.

Additionally, New Moon presents two love interests who are both inherently dangerous. There is the ancient vampire who holds the heart of Bella, a naive teenage girl in her first relationship. By being with Edward, she risks her life to his own impulses, the vampires that surround him, and his external enemies. She is delicate in his world. He is aware of this, but Bella in her fatalism doesn’t seem to care.

On the other hand, Jacob encourages Bella to preserve herself, and not seek out dangerous behaviors if they mean hurting herself. That being said, he presents his own dangers. We see in Sam’s fiance, Emily, that there is also extreme danger in being with a werewolf. Given their hot-blooded nature, they could get set off and accidentally phase in close proximity to their loved ones. The scar on Emily’s face is evidence that Jacob also presents serious danger to Bella’s safety. 

Observation 2: The “Victoria” Miniplot

I thought it was interesting that Victoria’s relevance to the story is kept in New Moon in the form of a minor plotline. With barely any screen time, the film sets the audience up for what we know are the events in the third film, Eclipse. But in this film, the closest thing we get to a payoff is when Bella sees Victoria in the water and hits her head on a rock, when their timelines coincidentally converge. The fact that these characters never get a standoff in this film creates additional tension geared towards the next film within the saga

Observation 3: Act > Sequence Plot Structure

Lastly, this film had a surprising and dynamic plot structure. Instead of a standard 4 acts for the 2 hour and 10 minute run time, the first half of the film had a standard 2 acts, and then transitioned into sequences with bursts of action for our main characters. There are 4 sequences in the latter half of the film, which switches the mood and speed of the film to create additional tension for the characters. 

I’m incredibly excited to introduce a new set of contributors to The Hutch Files—my students in the Storytelling 4 class in the MFA Program at the University of Central Arkansas. Over the next few weeks, I’ll be posting their structure breakdowns on some of their own favorite films. I think they’ve done an incredible job and bring some great insights to the films they’ve chosen. Please see their individual bylines at the top of each post. So here we go:

One of my all-time favorite movies is Twilight (2008) directed by Catherine Hardwicke, starring Kristen Stewart and Robert Pattinson. It may come as a surprise, but I was actually very late to the bandwagon, and didn’t start to dip my toes into the franchise until late teenagedom. Though seeing as the saga took popular culture by storm, I couldn’t outrun the films for long. The Twilight movie, at its core, has a fairly standard structure, which did force it to diverge from the book more than the mega-fan may have preferred, but all in all the film was definitely fun to break apart and put back together in this analysis. So hold on tight spider monkey, let’s get into the breakdown:

As always, these breakdowns contain SPOILERS, and are only recommended if you've already seen the movie. You can check the introduction to these breakdowns, to get an overview of the process and philosophy.

The Basics

Director: Catherine Hardwicke
Writers: Melissa Rosenburg, Stephanie Meyer
Release Date: 2008
Runtime: 122 minutes.
IMDB: https://www.imdb.com/title/tt1099212/

Movie Level Goals

Protagonist: Bella Swan
External: To be with Edward Cullen
SUCCESS | MIXED | FAILURE
Internal: None (I’ll explain in the Observations section)

Three Observations

Twilight is an interesting movie, for sure. There seems to be a solid line between loving this film to death or loathing it beyond belief, and I hope to muddle that line a bit with this breakdown. While it isn’t the greatest film of all time, it holds a special place in my own heart, and there are some unique aspects of this movie that, maybe being further expanded upon, could sway some haters to give it another chance. When it comes to the film’s structure, there are a few things that stood out from the norm.  

Observation #1: No Internal Goal

The first observation I’d like to dive into is the interesting relationship between Bella’s external and internal goals, or more specifically, the lack thereof. In a typical film, a protagonist has both an internal and an external goal, and there is usually a relationship between these goals, whereas one leads to or inspires the other. In the case of Twilight, though, our protagonist only has one goal: to be with Edward Cullen. The goal of being with Edward may seem like it would be better suited as an internal goal, with Bella’s external goal more focused on stopping James from killing her, but I argue that James as a character is less of the main antagonist of the film than he is simply another bump in Bella’s road to a relationship with her vampire, Edward.

Let’s break it down a bit more to make it easier to digest. Bella’s goal takes root, fully, by the climax of Act 2, when not only is it revealed that Edward Cullen is a vampire, but the two teenagers confess their feelings for one another. In a voiceover, she explains that she is madly in love with the 109 year-old, and that he also thirsts for her blood. By this moment in time, James has yet to be introduced. While we as an audience know of his existence, we do not yet know of his intentions, and Bella and Edward have not come into contact with him either. This is an unusual structure if we were to continue with the narrative of James being the antagonist; the protagonist and antagonist would have already met by the end of Act 2 in a typical four-act structure film. Which makes one question, then, who is the true antagonist here, if not James? The answer may shock you, but Edward Cullen, Bella’s own love interest and our favorite bloodsucker, has been the antagonist all along (if we define the “antagonist” as the person opposed to the protagonist’s main goal.

And then it comes full circle: In order for Bella to complete her movie-level external goal of being with Edward, she must “defeat” Edward and his goal of deciding whether or not to be with Bella. She has to convince Edward to stay, and he does not make it an easy endeavor. From the very beginning, he resists his temptation, telling Bella that the two of them cannot be friends. When Bella figures out that Edward is a vampire and we witness their tense conversation in the woods, Edward shows her his true self in a failed attempt at scaring her off. Then we meet James in the clearing, which becomes the final conflict between Bella and Edward, and the final straw for both of their individual goals. Bella’s goal of being with Edward is the external that structures the movie, and all that Bella has her sights set on. And by the way, it’s not unusual in a romance for the romantic goal to be the external goal. She has no internal goal because the only thing she wants throughout the film is to be with Edward Cullen. That is her one and only goal, and it is dependent on his.

Observation #2: A Quick Paced Narrative (compared to the book)

The next observation I noticed deals with the adaptation of the book into a movie for the big screen. Adapting literature into a screenplay is nothing new; we as filmmakers have taken inspiration from books for as long as cinema has existed, but in the case of Twilight, the movie version seems to have left a few details out in order to cram the entire 544 pages into a 2-hour film. Of course, most book adaptations have to be shortened or re-worked in order to fit the movie format, but Twilight’s restructuring piqued my interest as I was watching the film for this breakdown.

The inciting incident is the first sign of this film being a little cramped, with Bella’s first glimpse of Edward landing just before the 10 minute mark. In a typical four-Act structure, the inciting incident often happens around 15-17 minutes into the film, so we’re already a few steps ahead, and we just keep speed rolling from there. It’s almost whiplash as we watch Bella and Edward go back and forth between being friendly and not speaking to one another. Once it’s revealed that Edward’s a vampire, we slow down a bit, with the whole conversation in all its glory taking up 15 minutes of the film.

The most rushed, though, I would say is the ending, or the last Act in general. As soon as James is there, it seems like no time passes between their first meeting and Bella laying on the floor screaming in agony after being bitten. Looking at it from a structural point of view, the Act 3 climax closes out an hour and 25 minutes into the film, as James decides to hunt Bella and her and the Cullens are forced to figure out a plan to hunt him first. Then, only 15 minutes later, we reach Act 4’s climax as Bella lays in the hospital bed, begging Edward to stay with her after they have defeated James and destroyed him.

Observation #3: Act 4

To piggyback off of that, Act 4 as a whole is interesting in its own way when it comes to its structure and payout. Bella’s external goal of being with Edward is basically pushed to the back burner while she and the Cullen family ban together to stop James within the first 15 minutes of the Act, and we are left with 20 minutes of screentime to go. So where does that leave us? Bella has yet to complete her movie-level external goal of being with Edward. This is where it becomes unique. Many would assume that the climax of the Act is when James bites Bella in the ballet studio, and while this is a climatic moment for her, this is not the climax of this Act.

As I pointed out earlier, her external goal and Edward’s goal are dependent on one another, and lead to each other in their own unique way. Now that Bella has stopped James, the film can move back to her goal of being with Edward. This is where our Act climax comes into play, with Bella begging Edward to stay after he reveals that he’s contemplating leaving her alone for her own safety. After she stumbles over her words as she pleads with him, Edward agrees to stay and the camera pans as it transitions from the hospital in Phoenix, Arizona back to Forks, Washington for the 10 minute epilogue of Edward taking Bella to the prom. The Act splits itself in half, giving the first half to the final source of conflict for her goal, and the second to the resolution after her success.

So, all in all, Twilight’s structure becomes unique when looking into the singularity of Bella’s external goal, revealing the true antagonist of the film, and the rushed nature of the film overall. While the film is traditional in narrative, there are moments that stand out amongst the story, making it a fun and unique movie to delve into.