Plots in American films tend to follow a uniform three-act structure (as we discussed last week) which can be described as: 1.) exposition, 2.) complication and 3.) resolution. In the first act, the characters and themes are exposed to the audience. The second act forms the meat of the story. It is where the conflict creates a rising action. If you describe a movie to someone, you are typically describing act two. Act three is then the climax, falling action and resolution. This is where the theme is substantiated.
I tend to think of act one as being centered on character, act two as being centered on plot and act three as being centered on theme -- which isn't to say that all three elements aren't present in each act, but rather, that these elements tend to take turns dominating the narrative. First we learn who the movie is about, then we see what they do, and then we find out what they learned in the process.
If we are to consider film as a cinematic text (complete with its own context and subtext), then its most basic unit of grammar is the shot, much like the word is to written text. Each individual frame that passes through the projector at 1/24 of a second is like a letter in that word, and just as a group of carefully selected words pieced together makes a paragraph (which is its own cohesive idea with a beginning, middle and end), so too does a series of shots make up a scene. Continuing with this analogy, a group of interrelated paragraphs forms a chapter, which is the equivalent of a sequence in a motion picture.
Sequences tend to be around 12-16 minutes long. The reason for this is because back in the formative days of cinema (the 1920s and 30s), the standard length of one reel of film was 12-16 minutes. In other words, back when people were deciding what exactly a movie should look like and what kind of narrative shape it should take, this became the standard, and it continues to be the average length of a sequence in movies today. Again, think of a sequence as a series of related scenes that essentially functions like a chapter in a book.
With this in mind, most American movies tend to be made up of around eight sequences, give or take. So if a film has eight sequences that are each around fourteen or so minutes long, that makes for a cinematic text that has a runtime of an hour and fifty two minutes. (In case you're wondering, a screenplay averages about one page per minute, so that's 112 pages.) Plot is a mechanism, not unlike a human skeleton. As seen through an X-ray device, one person probably doesn't look all that different from someone else, but when we see these individuals fully fleshed out, they become two very different people. Movies tend to have very similar underlying shapes and connective tissue as well, even though the forms that they take may be quite different.
Just for fun, think of a movie you saw recently, and see if the series of eight sequences that I describe below more or less outlines its basic structure:
1. The first shot in a film is often a visual metaphor for the story that follows. In the first sequence, the central character is introduced; it is usually the first person we see, and he or she is usually performing some defining action. If the protagonist is a garbageman, for example, we see him picking up garbage. We also get a sense of what is missing from this person's life, as well as some personal flaw that he or she will have to overcome in order to grow in some way. A thematic question is asked, either explicitly or otherwise. Genre and tone are established. Other characters that are integral to the plot are usually also introduced in the first sequence, which typically ends with the inciting incident. This is the moment where the story begins to move forward. We now have somewhat of an idea of what this movie is going to be about.
2. In the second sequence, the protagonist’s central goal is established, but this person does not yet move forward toward this objective. Meanwhile, all other central characters (as in, anyone who will directly affect the plot in some way) are introduced (or at least alluded to), including the antagonistic force (which is usually a character, but not always. Think of The Martian or Castaway, for example). The antagonistic force often has a dramatic goal that is equal but opposite of what the protagonist wants, thereby making it so that only one of them can ultimately achieve victory. (Think of a love triangle where only one of the suitors will gain the love of the film's romantic interest: protagonist, antagonist and a character whose affection functions as a mutually exclusive dramatic goal. Similarly, in Star Wars, the rebels and the empire can't both win, and I have never once seen a sports movie that ended with a tie game.) At the end of this sequence, the protagonist is faced with the choice to either move forward toward the goal or not. Of course, we already know what they’re going to do…
3. We are now in act two. Going back to our book metaphor, the acts are like the sections that comprise several chapters. And as we discussed last week, narratives in western culture are typically made of three acts (that very closely resemble Aristotle’s idea of thesis, antithesis and synthesis). This is where the central conflict (between the protagonist and the antagonistic force) begins, though at this point it seems like the challenge is minimal. By the end of this sequence, though, the stakes have typically been raised. In other words, the hero now stands to not only gain something in achieving the dramatic goal, but if this person fails, he or she will now lose something as well.
4. In the fourth sequence, the conflict intensifies between the protagonist and the antagonistic force, as the antagonist proves to be a worthy adversary. This is going to be harder than we thought, which leads the hero to dedicate fully to the dramatic goal. This sequence typically ends with a point-of-no-return. Life cannot go back to the way that it was before this story began. This is right around the halfway point in the movie, as well as the middle of the second act.
5. Here, the film usually takes a slightly different direction. A subplot is often developed during this sequence, which relates tangentially to the theme. It may be a diversion that leads to a dead end but fills in an important detail in the story. As a result, the thematic question is usually rephrased somewhat or approached from a slightly different angle.
6. Unfortunately, this is when things usually get bad for the hero. It looks like he or she will not achieve the dramatic goal. The thematic question is answered with a negative response. Can true love overcome all obstacles? Nope. Will this team of ragtag underdogs beat their more celebrated but immoral opponents? Not this time. In the battle of good versus evil, the score is: Good 0, Evil 1. At the end of this sequence, it appears that all may be lost and that the hero would have been better off not pursuing this goal in the first place. In an action movie, this is when the hero gets his ass kicked.
7. But then something happens that reminds the protagonist why he or she is doing this. We are now in the third and final act. The character is able to use the wisdom or knowledge that was gained in the course of this story to approach the central conflict from a different angle. In other words, act three provides a synthesis of acts one and two. This time, the hero is victorious. All of the conflict has built to this moment, which is the most exciting part of the entire movie. This is the dramatic climax. It is the final showdown between the protagonist and the antagonistic force, where the hero triumphs in such a way as to validate the thematic question by answering it with a positive response. Most of the subplots are often resolved with this one event as well.
8. This is the denouement, which is a fancy French word for the film’s resolution. Here, we see how the central character has grown. That thing that was missing at the beginning no longer is. The personal flaw has been erased. The final sequence is often “bookended” with the first in order to more effectively illustrate this contrast. By putting the protagonist in a similar scenario as where he or she was at the beginning of the movie, we see how different the character has become by the end. Thus a new status quo is established. All other subplots are resolved, and if this movie is intended to have a sequel, then the marketing for that sequel begins here…
That is the most common structure for American film narratives. You can plug in any number of movies and I think you'll find that they fit remarkably well within this basic template. It's not unlike how a lot of songs may use the same C, F and G chord progression, but it's how they use them that makes the song unique. Two points that I must add, though, are that in horror movies, the first person we see is usually not the protagonist, but rather, it is typically a victim of the antagonistic force; second, in the case of a tragedy, sequences six and seven as I described them above are switched around. Just when it looks like things are going to work out for the hero, they don’t. Again, going back to Aristotle, this was the fundamental difference between comedies and tragedies: comedies had a happy ending. Whereas tragedies ended with a funeral, comedies ended with a wedding. Today’s films are usually a bit more complex in terms of their underlying narrative elements, but many of audience's expectations remain the same... just like how we still expect sequences to be around fourteen minutes long. However, as we have discussed, comedy often works on the principle of setting up audience expectations and then presenting them with something else. As Geoff King points out in this week’s reading, comedy is generally disruptive. “It messes things up and undermines ‘normal’ behavior and conventions” (19). As you saw and wrote about, each of last week’s movies served to disrupt the status quo in some capacity. Duck Soup satirizes patriotism, diplomacy and class distinctions, She Done Him Wrong challenges conventional gender roles and the moral hypocrisy of the day, and Modern Times offers a critique of the dehumanization of poverty and industrial labor. In each of these cases, the audience’s sense of normal was briefly turned on its head for comedic (and political) effect. In the case of parodies, which we will discuss on week six, it is the audience expectations as generated by genre conventions that are disrupted, but it's the same basic idea, and it all goes back to the concept of incongruity.
King also notes that comedy often allows for what is commonly referred to as 'suspension of disbelief.' We know that we are watching a comedy, so we accept on some level that the basic rules of reality may not apply. Our disbelief is temporarily suspended. The subjective takes priority over the objective; but as we have discussed, the world that exists within this film must maintain some resemblance to a common reality in order for the jokes to have context. With this in mind, I suspect that, unfortunately, you may not have found last week’s films to be as funny as their original audiences did. This is because we have a very different cultural frame of reference, and many of the jokes may therefore be lost on a contemporary audience.
King talks about the history of comedy film, saying that before 1908, 70% of fictional films were comedies (22), and that feature films were developed to attract a middle-class audience, to give an air of legitimacy to this fledgling art form. Initially, feature-length comedies were often relegated to B-movie status. This term has its roots in this era, as during the Great Depression, in order to attract moviegoers, double features became commonplace. The A-film was the one that people went to see, and the B-film was the one that they threw in to keep audiences in their seats. Comedies were generally considered lowbrow entertainment, and in many ways, they worked against the image that Hollywood was trying to make for itself at this time (26-27).
King also notes how in “comedian comedy,” as in comedies that feature a recognizable comedic actor who is known for a particular style of humor, these films often have less in the way of dramatic tension because we know that, as it is a comedy, and because of the audience’s attachment to this comic persona, the hero will ultimately prevail, despite his or her shortcomings. The comedy film therefore uses other methods to maintain the audience’s interest. (By the way, the link above features the first time Chaplin's voice ever appeared in any of his films. Continuing to subvert audience expectations, he sings in gibberish.)
Although he doesn’t refer to it by name, King talks about dramatic irony as being a common device in comedy film (48-49). This is when the audience knows something that a character on screen does not, and comedies often draw humor from this incongruity between our knowledge and theirs. In many ways, it is the opposite of suspense, but it achieves the same effect: it makes us want to see what happens next.
As we have discussed, comedy often creates an 'inside' group comprised of the people in the audience. When such a film uses dramatic irony, the audience is bonded by the knowledge that they possess. (In some ways, this also allows the audience to feel superior to the character on the screen, which is a theory that we will discuss in more depth later in the semester.) When people laugh together, they also agree on a certain ideological alignment, if only for a moment. Consider the targets of the jokes in the movies we’ve watched. At whose expense have we been invited to laugh? How does this align us as an audience, assuming we laughed at the jokes? When Groucho Marx or Charlie Chaplin draws humor at the expense of the rich and powerful, whose side do we take? When Mae West makes her would-be-suitors appear foolish, who do we align ourselves with? Often without even consciously thinking about it, in laughing at the content of a scene, we embrace the ideologies that the filmmakers are trying to convey, at least to some degree.
I want you to think about these things as you are watching this week’s movies. They are: Where in the World is Osama Bin Laden? and The Yes Men. Once you have watched at least one of them and read the assigned reading and student blog posts, please answer the following screening question:
What truths are these filmmakers asking their audiences to accept, and how are incongruity and exaggeration used to draw humor from what are otherwise very serious issues?
As always, cite specific examples from the film(s) you watched and include quotes from any of the reading that we have done so far. You may also want to reference this week's reading about some well known American comedians (Misch Chapters 5-7, pg. 33-49).
Please note that the following students are exempt from answering screening questions this week, as they are assigned blog posts:
Alyssa Kapelka: Biography (Hal Ashby)
James Knapke: History/Social Context (the Clinton impeachment and the "Contract with America")
Taylor Russo: History/Social Context (1992 U.S. election)
If you have any questions, please do not hesitate to send me an email. Just to reiterate what is stated in the syllabus, I do not accept late assignments, so for the purposes of this class, the reason that they may be late is therefore irrelevant. All missing assignments are treated equally. They are all due at 6:00 pm on Sunday. Every week you have one assignment that is due, so if you are assigned a blog post, you do not have to do the screening question for that week. The screening questions are relatively easy to get full credit on if you answer the question to the best of your ability and meet the word count requirement. That said, I expect you to work for your grades on the blog posts and on the final project, which means that these should be well-written, well-researched and tell an interesting story... and of course be in your own words, proofread and polished. Be professional.
Enjoy this week's films. If anyone can think of movies that use similar strategies in combining comedy with activism, please make note of this in the comments section below. For that matter, I encourage you to relate other movies to the lectures on previous and subsequent weeks as well. The films we watch are only a very small sample of what is out there, and I'm sure we can all think of other examples of movies that explore similar ideas. I'm curious to hear about them, as I'm sure your classmates are as well.
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