Why This is Good

While it’s important to make the goal personal, often by involving the hero’s friends and family by putting them in jeopardy, it’s also vital that the hero stands to lose something extremely valuable should they fail. The stakes should be literal, or at least emotional, life-and-death.

If the hero has nothing big to lose, the movie will not be that exciting. We need to feel that if the hero fails in achieving their goal, something devastating, either to them or to humanity at large, will occur. In some genres this can be literal life-and-death for the hero. If Ripley doesn’t stop the Alien it will kill her.  Other times, the hero is working to save another person, or group of people, as in Schindler’s List. If Schindler doesn’t outwit the Nazis, his workers will be sent to concentration camps. Epic, action adventure, science-fiction, or superhero movies often involve the hero saving the world and humanity at large, as in Star Wars, The Terminator, Transformers, Armageddon, or The Lord of the Rings. In I Am Legend, (spoiler alert) if Neville doesn’t get his antidote containing blood to Anna in time, there will be no hope for what remains of the human race.

Literal life-and-death stakes aren’t always plausible, or necessary. Often times failing to achieve the goal will mean emotional life-and-death, or a life not worth living. If Andy doesn’t succeed in getting out of Shawshank, he will face emotional death and a lifetime of imprisonment, which, although he would still be alive, would not be worth living. If David and Jennifer can’t bring color into the black-and-white world of Pleasantville, life would still go on, but it would be the bland, dull, stagnant life that would not be worth living after the town’s residents had glimpsed what a real life could be like.

If Dorothy can’t find the Wizard and get back home, she’ll be stuck, unhappily, in Oz forever. If Woody and Buzz can’t get to the moving van in time, they’ll be abandoned, alone, and not living the lives they cherish with Andy. While the stakes are not life-and-death, they are nonetheless vital to the hero’s happiness and emotional well-being. If the stakes were lowered and the heroes were pursuing something less important, the story would be less powerful. If Dorothy was ambivalent about going home and couldn’t care less whether she ever saw her Aunt and Uncle again, we wouldn’t care whether she made it to Oz or met with the Wizard, and neither would she.

Love stories use emotional life-and-death. Failing to win the love of the other character will mean emotional death for the hero. If Noah cannot get Allie to marry him, he will never be happy, and at the same time, if he cannot get her to remember, even for a moment, who she is and what their love story meant to both of them, he will be devastated and she will be stuck in her Alzheimer-induced fog. If Phil cannot get Rita to love him, he will not only lose her and face emotional death, but he will be stuck in a life not worth living, reliving Groundhog Day forever. If Harry and Sally can’t eventually get together, they will never find happiness and continue to drift in and out of unfulfilling relationships. Neither will die, but their love lives and emotional well-being will.

The ticking clock is an important device that can be used in all genres. Establishing a ticking clock helps build suspense by giving the hero a defined timeline during which he must accomplish his goal. In superhero movies, a ticking clock is nearly always utilized, as Batman, Superman, or Spiderman have to save the girl, the public, or the world from the evil villain’s dastardly plan before it’s too late. They never have much time, but they always have some time. If the villains acted logically and simply killed their captives or enacted their plan for world domination right away, the hero would have no chance of stopping them and the story would end right there. Conversely, if Mary Jane were kidnapped for an indefinite amount of time, and was in no imminent danger, the goal of saving her from the clutches of the nemesis would have no sense of urgency. Spiderman could take his time, figure out the safest, most rational method of rescuing her, perhaps get the police involved. He would have time to visit his Aunt, go to class, and work at the newspaper, because it wouldn’t endanger Mary Jane one bit. Whether he took three months or three days to save her wouldn’t matter. Of course, the idea of a superhero movie playing out so leisurely is ludicrous, and clearly illustrates how vital a ticking clock is to establishing a sense of urgency for accomplishing a goal.

Action-adventure films frequently utilize a ticking clock, as this helps move the story forward in the fast pace these genres require. In Speed, the ticking clock is established when the characters learn that they only have a certain amount of gas before the bus stops and therefore explodes. This heightens the emotional involvement of the audience because we not only have something to root for, we are rooting for it to happen as soon as possible, before it is too late. If the bus held an infinite amount of gas, then they could ride on forever, the bomb squad could come on and figure out how to disarm the bomb, and they could take as long as they needed without making the audience or the characters worry. If the bus ran out of gas in Act 1 and just exploded, the film would end there.

In Armageddon they establish when the asteroid will hit the earth so that there is a defined timeline in which they must destroy it before the world is destroyed. This anxiety urges the characters on, and keeps the audience on the edge of their seats hoping that this will be accomplished in time. It is important not just to establish a ticking clock, but to frame the timeline in parameters that make sense for the movie-too short and it’s impossible, too long and it’s boring and the sense of urgency is gone. If the asteroid were going to hit the earth in two minutes, there would be no movie as everyone would have to give up and wait for the inevitable impact. If the asteroid were discovered a year or two prior to its impact, we would yawn because the scientists could be deliberate and careful in figuring out a safe method to destroy it.

The ticking clock works in other genres as well. In Toy Story, the ticking clock is established very early on-Woody alerts the toys to moving day in the first act, and we know then that Woody and Buzz must get back before the family moves or face being lost forever. If the family wasn’t moving, there would be no excitement or suspense, as Woody and Buzz could take as long as necessary to get back to Andy’s house. Similarly, in Toy Story 2, Woody and Jesse must escape before they are shipped to Japan. If the collector was just going to keep them on display indefinitely, the toys could take their time to rescue Woody, and there would be no story.
In My Best Friend’s Wedding, Julia Roberts must win the love of her best friend before his fast-approaching wedding. Imagine how dull the film would have been if the wedding were a year away, or he wasn’t engaged at all and just dating someone else.
In the Hangover, the ticking clock is established right away, when Vick calls Tracy to tell her they lost Doug, she mentions (good subtle exposition) that the wedding is in four hours. If the wedding were still a week or even a few days away, the sense of urgency would be lost, and the film would be much less exciting. Not only would it be less suspenseful, but the guys could take their time and perhaps choose more logical, less hilarious methods for finding the groom.

Despite reading a few negative reviews, I had high hopes for Amelia. Of course, the critics were right and it was not good. The best thing about this film was the cinematography. With grand, sweeping aerial shots of all the gorgeous land and sea Amelia flew over, there’s no denying it was stunning visually. That and the fact that Hilary Swank looked just like Amelia Earhart are the two things I could say were done well. The rest was a mess.

There were little things that were irritating about the film. Hilary Swank’s weird accent bothered me. I don’t know anyone from Kansas, so I’m not sure what women from Kansas in the 1920s and 30s would have sounded like, but if they truly sounded as irritating and awful as Hilary Swank did, then the acting coaches should have taken poetic license and allowed her to speak normally. Her accent was so odd, it was distracting. It was also inconsistent and drew attention to itself, taking me out of the experience of the film.

The chemistry between Amelia and George Putnam, played by Richard Gere, was entirely lacking. While Richard tried his best to feign love, and said all the right things, I just didn’t buy it. And Amelia was cold and completely unlovable towards him, which I assumed was just part of her character, since when he proposed marriage she responded with a grimace and a promise that she would not be faithful nor would she expect him to be. Because she was so honest, it was not dramatic, interesting or exciting when she began her passionless, short-lived affair with Gene Vidal.

The only thing keeping me awake through most of the film was my popcorn, but I perked up slightly when I thought perhaps they were hinting at Amelia being gay. This at least, was a new take on her life that I hadn’t heard of yet.  While at a bar, she pointed out that a woman nearby was very attractive. That, her masculine appearance, and her support of other female pilots, particularly the mentoring of an attractive young competitor combined to make me wonder if maybe the filmmakers were going to explore that side of her story. But no, it was just an idle comment used to explain why Amelia always wore pants, she admired the other woman’s legs and thought her own were inadequate. Yawn.

The primary problem with this film goes back to the script at its very basic level. There was an utter lack of conflict that made the story incredibly dull. Biographies are hard to do well, as most people’s lives are meandering and episodic by nature.  We all know the fascinating story surrounding Amelia Earhart’s disappearance. This story should have brought us into her life, engaged us so thoroughly that we were on the edge of our seats and calling out “No Amelia-don’t get on that plane!” as we watched her take the fateful voyage. Because if we had cared more about her and been brought into her world by an exciting, conflict-driven look at her life, we would have been emotionally attached and deeply moved at the thought of her demise. We all knew how Titanic would end, but were nonetheless moved to tears when we watched Jack sink to his watery grave, because the writers of Titanic did what the writers of Amelia did not-they got the audience emotionally involved with the characters so that we cared whether they lived or died. Watching Amelia was like watching a historically accurate documentary which included all the dull parts of a real person’s life. There was little focus on the obstacles and conflicts Amelia Earhart no doubt faced in doing what she did at that time in American history. Instead, everything seemed relatively easy for her. The main conflict arose from her feeling like a sell-out while endorsing product after product, but this too was explained and accepted as necessary, and didn’t create any real drama or conflict for the hero.

When the ending we all saw coming finally arrived, it was just that, the end of a story we already know, no less exciting after watching this uninspired portrayal of a woman who truly was groundbreaking and inspirational. It’s a shame that the writers did not craft a more engaging Amelia for Hilary Swank to embody. The real woman was a passionate pioneer whose life was interesting, dramatic and groundbreaking. This bravery and zeal could have been captured by an actress as talented as Hilary Swank if the writers had given her a story to work with, rather than this dull retelling of facts.

Conflict should not be something you create and impose upon your story. I would never tell a writer to sprinkle in some conflict here, or add more drama there. Conflict is not just people fighting, arguing, or disagreeing. Conflict is not characters being moody or dissatisfied with their lives. In a properly structured, well-written screenplay, conflict arises naturally when the hero, pursuing a goal, faces opposition, in the form of a person, a circumstance or a situation. When conflict is created this way, it is believable as it is organic to the very nature of the story. Conflict is an essential part of the story. If your hero has a goal, and if there is something in the way of him achieving it, conflict arises.

In stories devoid of conflict, there is either a lack of a concrete goal, a lack of obstacles, or both. The hero doesn’t know what they want, and is just meandering through the story, letting things happen. If the hero wants nothing, pursues nothing, and thereby does nothing, then conflict cannot exist. If your hero does not know what they want but is instead swept along by the tide of other people telling him or her what to do where to go and who to be, then they are not going to run into any opposition or conflict. If the hero wants nothing, than there is nothing in the way of him achieving this.

If the hero encounters no opposition, then no conflict can exist. Even if you have a compelling goal and a hero pursuing it, you will not have conflict if you do not have obstacles and opposition. A conflict laden story can be created out of a hero trying to do something as simple as delivering a letter, if there are obstacles and circumstances that make accomplishing this task nearly impossible. On the other hand, a story could be completely dull and lack conflict even if the hero’s goal is monumental.

A story about a hero whose goal is to fly to the moon can have less conflict than the story about delivering the letter. If our wannabe astronaut is instantly accepted into the flight program at NASA, passes all the tests and immediately gets put on a mission to the moon and has a smooth ride there where everything goes as planned, the story will have absolutely no conflict, even though the goal was there and seemed impossible to achieve. If the hero trying to deliver the letter can’t find a nearby post office because he lives in a rural area that doesn’t get regular mail pick up, so he locates one miles away and drives there, but his truck breaks down on the way, and when he hitches a ride he leaves the letter in the car, and then by the time he finds the car and the letter and makes his way back to the post office to find that it is closed for the day, his story will have much more conflict than our astronaut because he encountered obstacles that created conflict.

The moral of the story is that goal + obstacles = conflict. Take away a goal or obstacles and you are left with a neutral, boring flat story.