This is Story Fanatic, a collection of articles covering story structure and analysis for
creative writers. Published weekly.
Great stories balance point-of-view. They focus an Audience on one perspective, then swoop in from the other side to provide a better understanding of the unfolding events. Shocked with the cognitive dissonance many try to avoid, those sitting in the theater have no other alternative than to simply absorb the experience and become one with the message of the story. Great stories…like Chinatown.
Some films seem a little bit…off. Sure, they may look gorgeous and they may bring smiles to apple-cheeked tykes and maybe perhaps that is all that is required of a movie…but there is always that nagging sensation that sits at the back on one’s mind that says Something about that film wasn’t right. More often than not that sensation owes itself to a poorly structured argument.
Tragic are the ones who skip this series due to a lack of interest in wizardry or potion-making. Seen individually, the films play out as entertaining yet basic childrens tales. Yet viewed as one entire story, the saga resonates with an emotional clarity rarely found in popular cinema today. Those who avoid these films because of preconceptions towards fantasy cheat themselves of an experience unlike anything else.
Characters need to have goals, right? If they don’t the Audience won’t know what the character is all about. At least, that is the common perception. Unfortunately, giving a character a goal without fully integrating it into the structure of a story leads a work of narrative fiction open to all sorts of tragic issues.
Stories provide a context for the seemingly pointless events that pass through time. Granting the audience an opportunity to step outside of themselves, a well-told complete story gives purpose and understanding to that which has happened. Sometimes, but not always, history has so much to say that it requires more than one story to make sense of it all.
Whether you find yourself barreling down an intergalactic trench at top speeds, or you find yourself twirling around and around and around in again in the hopes of measuring up to the stiffest competition around, the problem at the heart of your struggle may turn out to be the very same thing. For Luke Skywalker and Nina Sayers this possibility becomes a certainty. Their stories at large may be vastly different, but their internal struggles are one and the same.
In an attempt to understand the various machinations at work behind the scenes of a well-told story, many look to the Hero’s Journey, or various models thereof, as the answer. Unfortunately, the analysis that comes as a result is severely lacking in meaningful content and accuracy. The key is truly understanding what problems the Main Character of a story faces.
Constructive criticism is hard to come by in the online world of film analysis. Most can tell when a story is in need of serious work, but often stammer and guess as to precisely what is wrong. The latest revenge thriller Hanna is one of those films. Using the Dramatica theory of story and its baseline that every complete story is based on the mechanism of the human mind, several decisive actions are outlined for improving the overall meaning of this film.
Fans of great storytelling rejoice, HBO has done it again. Mildred Pierce, the depression-era star vehicle for Kate Winslet, continues the long line of thoughtful meaningful drama the cable studio is known for. Those who make a living projecting cinema on the big screen take note: this miniseries illustrates precisely why your numbers are dwindling.
Rarely do American audiences get a chance to feast on a film teeming with the subtle colors and nuances that well up from rich thematic exploration. Often they are left wanting, leaving the theater with their head cocked wondering What did all of that mean? Those who experienced this 2007 Pixar masterpiece were delighted to find that for once, their cravings did not go unanswered, their hearts unfulfilled.