by Jim Mercurio
Let’s consider the source of Seth’s vulnerability as it distills to a clear dilemma, involving two difficult options:
• Choose the safe world of male friends and risk-free companionship, which results in petty jealousy, stunted growth, and a lack of both sex and female companionship.
• Choose to spend time away from the safety and comfort of his male companions and risk rejection, insecurity, and inadequate knowledge about romantic relationships and sex.
We’re only a few minutes into the movie and we have already begun to pick at the character’s core. However, given Seth and Evan’s codependence, how else can Evan’s mom get under his skin? If he is sensitive about some other deep-seated fear, then it becomes a different character and a different movie.
Even if you must search and deliberate to consciously identify the dilemma, your effort will be rewarded. Sometimes a dilemma can be subtle and its importance buried deep within a character. By deeply mining characters, you find the strongest and most unified conflict.
In Good Will Hunting, Chuckie (Ben Affleck) has a monologue in which he encourages Will (Matt Damon) to leave their “hood” and pursue a higher calling. Chuckie tells him that every day, he hopes he’ll show up to pick up Will for work and discover that Will is gone—that he left without even a note. Of course, this is a classic alley-oop, a setup that will allow a later action (Will’s eventual departure) to be more clearly understood and to have more meaning. But Will doesn’t say a word. He just listens. So where is the dilemma? Where is the conflict?
This moment is not a therapy session. His goal is not to impart some wise advice, but rather to push him away from everything that has been important to him. Think about how hard it is for Chuckie to say this to Will. If Chuckie gets his way, he may never see his best friend again.
Thinking as actors do will help you find the buried importance. Importance is a specific term borrowed from the language of actors that signifies a resonant connection to something deep in the character’s inner life. Oftentimes, actors ask themselves not about goals or motivation, but a more specific question: “What am I fighting for?” Chuckie is fighting for the soul of his best friend.
Dilemma defines the character arc, creates the climax, embodies theme, and clarifies supporting characters.
Externalization of Dilemma
Use your character’s dilemma to explore his or her inner thoughts and emotional states to create appropriate conflict. Find and create an active choice—in the form of clear actions, images, goals, or objects—that embody the competing sides of the dilemma.
Bringing a character’s inner feelings to life in a visual way is a particularly effective tactic when writing your opening image and in defining love interests in romances.
An opening image gains its power by externalizing the central choice that pervades the film. It acts as foreshadowing and summary—a herald to the theme, which always relates to the protagonist’s dilemma.
Although director Peter Weir made a different choice, the writer of Dead Poets Society, Tom Schulman, did his job by creating an opening image that visually sets up the dilemma and meaning for the entire film. These are literally the first words of the script other than formatting and slug lines:
On the left is a life-sized mural depicting a group of young school boys looking up adoringly at a woman who represents liberty. On the right is a mural showing young men gathered around an industrialist in a corporate boardroom. Between the murals stands a boy.
Romantic comedies and romances use the protagonist’s dilemma to create two romantic interests that embody the protagonists’ inner conflict. The competing lovers will be externalizations of the character’s dilemma. This helps to define the protagonist.
In Sleepless in Seattle, Annie (Meg Ryan) has to choose between two ideal men: Walter (Bill Pullman) and Sam (Tom Hanks). See how they embody her warring values:
• Walter: safe, sturdy, practical love.
• Sam: exciting, passionate love with an element of surprise and unknown.
In Hollywood, we know which one usually wins out.
Notice the circular process. The better you know your main character, the better you can define the characteristics of her love interests. The character sketches for the two competing love interests draw from the dual sides of the protagonist’s dilemma. However, the personality of the love interests can also reflect telling insight back onto the protagonist.
Unlike novels and short stories, in which an author can use words to describe a character’s thoughts and feelings, screenwriters and filmmakers must find ways to make inner conflict visual, tangible, or palpable.
In Erin Brokovich, George (Aaron Eckhart), the free-spirited biker, attends a picnic where Erin is networking with the attendees. He dutifully watches her kids. As he is about to be relieved of his babysitting chore, Erin discovers a witness she wants to interview, so she asks George to take the kids home, prolonging his role as babysitter.
The character reveals a tinge of frustration, and we may surmise the nature of his discontent. He feels emasculated and used, and he is potentially bored. But then the visual landscape of the world comes to life and clarifies how he feels. The roar of some motorcycles grabs his attention, and we see a pack of bikers ride by. This is a dream-like landscape that turns what’s inside out, and creates a physical manifestation of the freedom he longs for.
From Dream Landscape to Nightmare
In the animated film Tangled, Gothel (Donna Murphy) holds Rapunzel (Mandy Moore) captive in the tower by convincing her that the world is a dangerous and terrifying place, full of “ruffians and thugs.” As Gothel spins her deceit into the song “Mother Knows Best,” Rapunzel’s pet chameleon, Pascal, sketches a frightening image from the song of a man “with pointy teeth.” Pascal’s externalization of her inner fear creates a takeaway visual that pays off more than once. The first time is when she gingerly checks the unconscious Flynn’s (Zachary Levi) mouth for pointy teeth. Finding none, she lowers her defenses to him.
For her eighteenth birthday, Rapunzel has decided to sneak out of her tower to see the mysterious lights that appear on her birthday each year. She makes a deal with Flynn: she will return the valuable loot she took from him (which turns out to be her own crown) if he will take her to see the source of the lights she calls stars. Gothel has brainwashed Rapunzel to fear the outside world, so she is torn between what she thinks are two equally important options:
Rapunzel’s Dilemma
• Explore. Embark on an adventure. Experience new things and grow up.
• Please her “mother.” Stay inside, hidden and alone. Avoid the many dangers of the scary outside world such as “men with pointy teeth.”
She makes a step toward the first choice when she embarks on her trip with Flynn to the castle. Although he promises he’ll take her to see the “stars,” Flynn does not want to go anywhere near the castle since he is being hunted by the royal guards for stealing the crown.
Although Flynn could create meaningless physical roadblocks to impede their journey, he (and the filmmakers) use Rapunzel’s specific dilemma to manifest specific obstacles. When he becomes aware of her fear of “ruffians and thugs,” he invents a plan that affirms her worst fears in an effort to get her to turn back. Under the guise of sheltering her, he takes her to The Snuggly Duckling Tavern, which, of course, is rife with ruffians and thugs. To underline her fears, she spots a man who is the payoff to the song “Mother Knows Best” and Pascal’s drawing: a man with sharp teeth.
A bar full of burly men might be a physical obstacle to any young woman, but here it is specifically orchestrated to align to Rapunzel’s greatest inner fear. It is doubly satisfying when Rapunzel defuses the danger, wins over every denizen of the tavern, and establishes, without any doubt, her courage and the seeds of heroism.
If Flynn brings her fears to life, Gothel brings her worst fears to life.
Gothel does everything she can to ensure Rapunzel is so hurt and damaged b
y the outside world that the pain will send her scurrying back to her secluded tower, too fearful ever to leave again. Gothel’s plan to demoralize and defeat Rapunzel rips a page right out of the nightmare playbook.
By the end of the second act, though, Flynn has grown to care about Rapunzel. He’s not about to steal her crown and abandon her. And in general, since the world isn’t as frightening as Gothel purports it to be, the old witch deceives Rapunzel by staging her nightmare scenario:
Her goons capture Flynn and tie him to the wheel of the boat, which they launch to make it look as if Flynn has betrayed Rapunzel, stolen the crown, and heartlessly abandoned her to ruthless thugs. The plan works. After Gothel “rescues” Rapunzel from the goons, Rapunzel wants nothing more than to return to the safety of her tower. “You were right about everything!” Rapunzel tells her captor, heartbroken.
Since the most difficult choice for your protagonist is in the climax of the film, use the insight gained through dilemma to find the character’s worst fear. Bring the character’s nightmare to life by forcing her to face the choice that is the most difficult to make. This climactic decision also allows for significant growth in the form of the character arc.
In the horror film 28 Days Later, Jim (Cillian Murphy) awakens to discover that he is one of the few human survivors in a postapocalyptic world infested by lightning-fast zombies who carry the contagious virus that transformed them. He meets Selena (Naomie Harris), a jaded survivor.
The screenwriter dramatizes her inner conflict by having her friend Mark (Noah Huntley) attacked by a zombie. Although she asks him if he has been bitten, she hardly waits for a response. She immediately attacks and kills him with her hatchet. She tells Jim that the virus takes hold in seconds and that she won’t hesitate if she thinks he is infected.
SELENA
You’ve about twenty seconds to kill them. It might be your brother, your sister or your oldest friend. It makes no difference. Just so you know where you stand, if it happens to you, I’ll do it in a heartbeat.
…
Plans are pointless. Staying alive’s as good as it gets.
The last two lines clarify and reframe her perspective. Her choice is that survival is more important than any relationship. She is scarred and jaded, a cornered animal who chooses survival over any chance of love or a relationship.
Near the end of the movie, Jim rescues Selena from one of the soldiers holding her captive. Ironically, the captor is acting as inhuman as the zombies, taunting Selena with the threat of sexual assault.
Everything in the scene is designed to bring Selena’s worst nightmare to life, to fool her into believing Jim has been infected and is now a full-blown zombie.
Jim’s rescue attack begins with her point-of-view shot through rain that blurs his face. In response to the taunts of Selena’s captors, Jim is worked up into a frenzied rage, and by the time he has killed the enemy, his clothes are tattered and he is covered in blood.
Do you see all of the work the filmmakers are doing to externalize her nightmare and dilemma?
Jim stands up from the corpse and steps toward Selena, his face in the shadows. The filmmakers are making it as difficult as possible for her. As he gets even closer, she makes her monumental choice: she hesitates. Her pause reflects her growth. Love is stronger than just surviving. Her old self wouldn’t hesitate. Her new self does. Afterward, he even calls her on it: “That was longer than a heartbeat.”
And then in a very subtle but perfect line, she says his name, relieved that it’s him, and embraces him in a passionate kiss.
Only when confronted with her worst possible choice does she have the opportunity to make a decision that reveals her change and character arc.
Pulling It All Together:
Dilemma, Surprise, and Character Arc
In 28 Days Later, at any point earlier than the climax, Selena would have killed Jim when faced with what appears to be her dilemma taken to its extreme—an overwhelming amount of evidence that Jim is a zombie. However, after her growth, she hesitates and avoids killing him, which represents her willingness to hold on to hope in a future that includes a return to a civilized world.
Selena’s clinging to the notion that surviving is good enough is her flaw and the expectation that drives the majority of the movie. However, deep down inside, she values love and has a desire to be part of a family. When she and Jim profess their love and “adopt” Hannah (Megan Burns) into their symbolic family, this doesn’t come out of the blue. It comes from the depths of her character, and it becomes a frustration to the original expectation.
Dilemma concisely summarizes the dual nature of a character: who they are in relation to who they might become. This growth and change together comprise character arc.
Dilemma and character arc are another example of surprise coming from setup. The setup and expectation come from characterization, whereas the surprise and frustration derive from the deep character. The opening image and the introduction to your character are your first opportunities to hint at these two sides.
On one side, you show her character flaw and defense mechanisms. This is how she has been getting along in the world up to this moment, so this is what we expect from her.
On the other side, you hint at the potential for her to overcome her flaw. Harkening back to Chapter 2, “Reversals: The Essence of Surprise,” this is the plausibility of the surprise: the character will grow into who and what she is supposed to be.
Lethal Weapon introduces Riggs and Murtaugh separately. Riggs (Mel Gibson) is a cop on the verge of suicide—he wants to die. Murtaugh (Danny Glover) is counting the days until his retirement, when he can spend more time with his family, so he plays everything safe—he wants to live. Their first meeting playfully shows a glimpse of their shadow sides.
From Murtaugh’s point of view, Riggs looks like a vagrant when he enters the police station. We know he’s a cop, but Murtaugh does not. Murtaugh spots Riggs’s gun and thinks he is a dangerous criminal, a lethal weapon if you will, and acts without thinking from his subconscious: he charges Riggs to apprehend and disarm him. Despite his death wish and ragged appearance, Riggs is a productive member of the police force. And despite Murtaugh’s overly cautious demeanor, he reveals a hint of his risk-taking side.
Here is a quick summary of the relationship between expectation and surprise. On one hand is what we expect based on characterization and pre-character-arc state, and on the other hand, frustration, surprise, and the growth associated with the character arc.
Murtaugh in Lethal Weapon
Expectation: Play it safe.
Surprise/Arc: Trusts Riggs, which represents risk-taking and danger.
Selena in 28 Days Later
Expectation: To survive, Selena won’t hesitate for even a heartbeat to kill anyone she suspects is infected.
Surprise/Arc: When Jim appears to be infected, she hesitates because she is willing to risk her life for love.
Bud White in L.A. Confidential
Expectation: Bud will be impulsive, violent, and brutish.
Surprise/Arc: He stops his violent attack on Exley and uses his brains instead of his brawn. He teams up with his rival to solve a crime.
Importance
Where You Least Expect It
Dilemma locates the core vulnerability of a character and allows deep fears to manifest, even in banal situations. In Serpico, it’s over a sandwich, and in The Departed, it’s while visiting an apartment with a real estate agent. Screenwriters must strive to align external situations and events with something personal and profoundly significant to the character.
In Serpico, a young Frank Serpico (Al Pacino) and his veteran partner, Peluce (Al Henderson), go to a deli for lunch. Serpico surprises Peluce and the owner, Charlie (Kenneth McMillan), when he orders something other than the standard fare that the policemen usually receive for free. Peluce and the owner take immediate notice when Serpico turns down the offer. The rejection is important to them. The scene continue
s with Frank and Peluce at their table and Frank tries to go back to confront the owner about the excessive fat on the meat in his sandwich. Here is the dialogue:
SERPICO
Well, I’m not fussy. I don’t know how I’m gonna eat this.
PELUCE
Charlie’s okay. We give him a break on double parking on deliveries.
SERPICO
Couldn’t I pay for it, get what I want?
PELUCE
Frank, generally, you just sort of take what Charlie gives you.
When Serpico stands up to approach Charlie, Peluce gently grabs him and makes him sit down. In the story, the power and livelihood of the cops is based on their mutual agreement to break the law and profit from their collusive power. A free-thinking character who stands up against the collective “take what The Man gives you” ideology poses a major threat.
This scene resonates with Serpico’s core dilemma. We could say that scenes early in a screenplay will foreshadow the protagonist’s main conflict or dilemma, but it’s even more organic than that. If a scene truly resonates with a character, there is really only one thing that the scene can be about: his dilemma. We should aim for this in every scene.
Notice that desire for personal freedom is equally important to Serpico as Peluce’s desire to keep Serpico in line. If Peluce isn’t smart enough or attuned to Serpico’s reaction—even on a subconscious level—the scene doesn’t work. If the scene is just Frank complaining to an uninterested character, then it’s less dynamic. The information becomes merely exposition.
A great screenplay can’t waste time with throwaway scenes, i.e., scenes that show characters fumbling through everyday situations as any person might.
In The Departed, Colin (Matt Damon) has recently graduated from the police academy and a real estate agent is showing him an apartment. It is set up that Colin is impotent, and the gold dome on Beacon Hill has been linked to his longing for a higher status in life. Instead of having generic conflict (such as the agent is annoying, a tough businessman, or hard of hearing), the scene aligns the conflict with the character’s inner world.
