Some have requested that I share my thoughts on “Serial”, the smash-hit podcast that re-examines the conviction of a man named Adnan Syed for the murder of his ex-girlfriend when they were high school seniors, 15 years ago. We’ll soon back to Do the Right Thing (which is now tragically timely)...
I’m obsessed with true-crime stories in general and false-conviction stories in particular, devouring every detail in cases such as the recent exoneration of Ricky Jackson. As a result, I’ve become convinced that false-convictions are far more common than most people think, and there are probably tens of thousands of wrongly-convicted people in America’s prisons, especially dark-skinned men.
That said, I’ve now listened to every second of “Serial”, and I’ve never seriously doubted for even one of those seconds that Adnan Syed is guilty.
Here’s the thing: This series is clearly not aimed at a typical true-crime audience, and it seems to me that its success is somewhat predicated on that unfamiliarity. The production values and philosophical tone peg this as true-crime for listeners who thought they were too sophisticated for true crime, which gives the show a fresh perspective and makes it a good listening experience, but also gives it license to be frustratingly naive. Koenig is a veteran reporter, and I’ve been a fan of her work for a long time, but it’s a little odd that she herself adopts such a credulous persona here. On one level, this is a smart narrative choice that makes her into a compelling hero, but it can lead to some eye-rolling.
The problem is that many of the supposedly exculpatory aspects that Koenig dwells upon would be seen as non-issues for an audience familiar with this sort of case. Here are four big ones:
#1: She keeps focusing on the fact that, while Syed had some motivation, he didn’t have enough. Wouldn’t he have just shrugged off the break-up?
...But who has a good motivation to kill an 18 year old honors student? Nobody. There’s no good reason to do it. But it keeps happening. Most not-for-profit murders don’t make good sense to anyone but the murderer. We have her diary saying that she doesn’t know why he can’t just get over the break-up. That’s more proof-of-motive than you usually find in such cases.
#2: She focuses on the fact that there are dozens of discrepancies in the various accounts, and the main witness’s story changes somewhat each he tells it.
...But this is always true. There has never once been a murder case without baffling discrepancies and inconsistencies in honest testimony. The only time this doesn’t happen is when everybody “gets their story straight” beforehand. What we call “memories” are a crude compromise between our actual sensory input at the time and the shifting self-narratives we craft in our heads. This whole series shows why it’s almost impossible to convict a millionaire (like O.J. or Robert Blake) of a crime, no matter how obvious their guilt is: because any case, even if it’s “open and shut”, starts to seem improbable if you have enough time and enough money to pick apart every inconsistency.
#3: She focuses on the fact that Syed is a nice, charming guy on the phone.
...Again, this is very common. Have you noticed that pre-recorded messages that keeps reminding her that she’s talking to an inmate? There’s a reason for that. Many, many prisoners are nice and charming, and you have to keep reminding yourself who you’re talking to. If he’s guilty of doing what Jay says he did (killing with several days’ premeditation), it would be weird if he didn’t have that affect: Listening to him talk, he sounds as if he could be a innocent, affable guy or, just as likely, he could be a charming psychopath. They’re hard to tell apart. Psychopaths, because they have no core self, are very good at becoming the charming person who you want them to be.
#4 She focuses on the fact that there’s little physical evidence.
...This is also very common. For the most part, cases with physical evidence don’t go to trial. If you’re nailed, then you’re nailed. If there’s a trial, it’s almost always a “he said / he said” case like this. This is why it sucks to be a prosecutor, defense attorney, or juror. The overwhelming pressure to make a plea deal creates a situation in which every jury decision is a pure judgment call. To a certain extent, Koenig is falling prey to the “CSI effect”: she shouldn’t be so surprised that there’s no smoking gun evidence introduced at trial.
On one level, I shouldn’t be surprised at all by the popularity of the show: it combines the excellent radio journalism of “This American Life” with the compulsive thrills of the true-crime genre. But I still find it a little odd, for a few reasons:
I always listen to “This American Life”, and the pilot for this show ran as a regular episode of that show, so I listened to it at the time, and enjoyed it, but I decided at the time not to make the jump over to the Serial podcast, because it seemed as there wasn’t going to be enough meat to the story. After all, Koenig had already made clear from the outset that no new big piece of exculpatory or condemnatory evidence would come out, and no new trial would be triggered, so it sounded like the whole 12 hours would be circling over the same ground already covered by the pilot. Now that I’ve gone back and listened to the whole thing, I find that it is well worth listening to, but my original opinion hasn’t changed. This isn’t really a “serial” in that it has no cliff-hangers and really no plot progression, just an ever closer-examination of the same evidence.
In addition to the lack of “Ah-ha” or “Gotcha” moment, there are other reasons that, of all the true crime stories out there, this one doesn’t seem like a particularly good candidate for a 12-part series:
Too many trial participants refused to be recorded (the detectives, the prosecution, the key witness, etc) or died (the defense attorney), so we’re still getting a very incomplete picture, even after all this investment.
Of the people who are on tape, there’s a distinct lack of “real characters”. Simply put, nobody is “giving good tape”. There are no weirdos or slicksters or dim-bulbs or tough guys that might make you say “Wow, I could just listen to this guy talk forever.” The case is just kind of dreary. There’s not a lot of personality here.
There’s no outrage factor. There are so many hundreds of “Innocence Project” cases with outrageous abuses by the cops or prosecution and/or infuriating incompetence by the defense. There’s not really any of that here, from what we’ve heard so far. This is just a very typical case, no matter how life-shattering it was for the victim and the accused. There’s some value in re-examining a more typical court conviction but 12 hours is pushing it, especially when there are so many more fascinating and/or infuriating cases out there.
The most baffling thing is that this show has proven to be more popular than “This American Life” itself, which has been producing superlative downloads every week for almost twenty years, including many, many true crime stories even more compelling than this one. If you discovered this show independent of TAL, then do yourself a big favor and dive into the TAL archives. They do a lot of stuff other than true-crime, but here are ten of their best true-crime episodes that you can start out with:
#210: “Perfect Evidence”, on DNA exonerations and false confessions.
#356: “The Prosecutor”
#385: “Pro Se”
#387: “Arms Trader” (This is a good example of an crime episode with just as much ambiguity but lots of huge plot twists, wild personalities, and the cheerful participation of the both the defense and the prosecution, led by a merciless young go-getter named Christopher Christie)
#405: “Inside Job”
#414: “Right to Remain Silent” (with amazing secret recordings by a whistleblower cop)
#419: “Petty Tyrant”
#487 and 488: “Harper High School”, Parts one and two
#507: “Confessions”
#536 “The Secret Recordings of Carmen Segarra”
Anyway, that’s my two cents. Feel free to let me know in the comments if I come across as merciless as Chris Christie...
So we’ve established that, unlike most movies, Do the Right Thing has a passive protagonist and it’s not about the solving of a large problem. This movie isn’t about a crisis that necessitates a series of tough decisions, it’s about a series of lightly-taken decisions that unexpectedly culminate in a crisis.
This brings us to another unusual thing about this movie: Many elements are not introduced from the POV of the hero.
If you think about it, this is kind of odd: Sure, there’s a huge cast, but it’s all limited to one block, and Mookie is constantly on the move and friendly with every character, so wouldn’t it make sense to simply introduce each new element in the movie from his POV? This is the way things are done in everything from “The Sopranos” to “Harry Potter”, after all. But instead, the camera chooses not to favor Mookie, jumping ahead of him or away from him several times, and introducing new elements on their own.
At first I found this very odd, but I think it makes sense: we have to cut away from Mookie’s POV so that we can see what he can’t see. After all, if he saw all of the same foreshadowing that we see, we would get too frustrated with him for not seeing the disaster coming. Ironically, this is one case in which we must sever our POV in order to maintain our empathy, because this assures us that Mookie couldn’t have predicted what we can predict, given our more-omniscient POV.
To a certain extent, the “antagonist” is merely the heavy hand of fate creating a tragedy that nobody wants, and the “protagonist” is not Mookie but the omniscient camera itself. Only the camera sees what no one person in the neighborhood can see: all of the little slights and frustrations that build up.
When we come back to this movie, we’ll take a closer look at that ironic sequence of events, but first, by request, I start off next week with my thoughts on the hit podcast Serial...
Warning: This gets long!
So finally we’ve captured that elusive beast: a great movie with a passive protagonist. In face, we have sometime even more rare: a great movie that’s not about the solving of a large problem!
Let’s start with our hapless hero Mookie, and all the ways he deviates from our list:
He’s not especially resourceful.
He has a lot more flaws than strengths.
He doesn’t make a lot of difficult decisions.
There is indeed a moment in just about the right spot where Mookie takes responsibility for a problem: 18 minutes in, he quickly shuts down Buggin’ Out’s first calls for a boycott, ushers him out, lectures him, and then Mookie comes back in and promises Sal that he’ll keep Buggin’ Out away from the pizza place.
So that sounds about right, and indeed this problem will get larger and larger, but Mookie himself will not do much of anything to solve that problem until it suddenly gets out of hand, more than an hour of screentime later.
(There is one scene about halfway through in which Mookie mildly repeats his advice to Buggin’ Out, but he actually makes the problem worse, because he also confirms Buggin’s worst fear by noticing that Buggin’s “Jordans are dogged”. He doesn’t suspect that the ruining of Buggin’s Air Jordans by a white homeowner on the block is by this point the real source of Buggin’s mounting anger.)
Meanwhile, Mookie skips most of the steps that we expect to see a hero go through:
His offhand commitment to solving this problem doesn’t lead to an unforeseen conflict with another person.
He doesn’t grapple with a lot of tough moral dilemmas.
He has no lowest point or midpoint disaster.
He doesn’t turn proactive until the height of the climax, when he acts suddenly, belatedly, and rashly.
So does the movie get away with all of this? Absolutely! Let’s break it down...
First of all, why doesn’t Mookie’s passivity infuriate us?
Like Jake Gittes back when he walked a beat in Chinatown, Mookie is in a position where it seems (at first) like the “right thing” to do is to do as little as possible. Shut down Buggin’ Out, shut down Pino, humor Smiley, compliment Raheem on his rings. We don’t get frustrated with him because it seems like he is indeed “doing the right thing” and successfully keeping the peace (You could say that the one time Mookie breaks his commitment to mildness is when he gets angry at Sal about being nice to Jade, and it is perhaps this violation of his code that karmically brings about the crisis.)
We can tell that a problem is brewing, and we sense that we can’t trust Mookie to resolve it, but that makes the movie more exciting. This isn’t a movie about the solving of a big problem, it’s about the gradual combustion of a suppressed problem.
But this still leaves the question: why do we put up with it? There’s a good reasons why most stories are about active protagonists solving large problems: Because that’s how we’re primed to watch stories. Our first instinct is to invest our identification in one character, caring only about that character, and only caring about the story to the extent that we care about the character. This is the easiest way to tell a story and the easiest way to reador watch a story.
This movie asks a lot more of us. It asks us to jump around, and never plant ourselves too firmly in any one character’s shoes. This makes it harder to care, but Lee and his collaborators know how to compensate for this lack of a comfort zone:
It’s just really funny. The dialogue is funny. The performances are funny. The vibe is funny.
The editing style is bracing and invigorating. It’s bouncy. It’s brash.
It’s absolutely gorgeous to watch. Cinematographer Ernest Dickerson’s number one influence was Jack Cardiff, who shot Michael Powell’s movies, such as Black Narcissus and The Red Shoes, and he successfully recreate the eye-popping use of impressionistic and vibrant color.
So why doesn’t it deflate the movie that nobody is trying to solve anything? I would say that we are somewhat aware as we watch that our narrative expectations are being frustrated, but we go along with it simply because we trust the filmmakers. Every aspect of the filmmaking is so good that we know we’re in safe hands, and we give the movie a reluctant benefit of the doubt until everything finally coalesces in a very satisfying way at the climax.
Still not completely better, believe it or not, but let’s finally dig into this movie a bit.
When you’re writing a story about a fiasco, then the first instinct is to have the hero rise above the situation and wisely shake his head at the folly on display. After all, he’s a hero, and heroes are smarter and better, right?
There is no better example of this than Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. Everybody is hot to get the skulls except for Indy, who gets dragged along reluctantly and keeps scoffing at how silly the whole quest is. In the end, Indy wins the race to find the skulls, reiterates that he doesn’t really care, and half-heartedly enters the cave anyway.
But this is completely wrong. The hero must drive the story, even if that makes the hero “look bad”.
When Do the Right Thing came out, many movie critics claimed that it was morally irresponsible of Spike Lee to have his “hero” throw a trashcan through Sal’s window, rather than try to bring everybody back into harmony. Certain members of Lee’s audience, they argued, needed to be shown a demonstration of moral rectitude, or else they might swarm out into the streets after every screening, smashing every window they saw!
But, over and above the overt and covert racism of the critics, that would have made for a terrible movie. Audiences have no patience for heroes who stay above the fray. No matter what’s going down, we want our “heroes” to be in it up to their necks: When there’s greed, they should be the greediest. When there’s anger, they should be the angriest. When there’s folly, they should make the biggest fools of themselves.
In the riot, Mookie finally proves himself to be the “hero” of the story, not (necessarily) because his act was the right thing to do, but because it finally made him the fulcrum of the story: this day finally becomes his story, defined by his action, and his flaw and/or strength, depending on how you read it. Is he “the only one who could solve the problem”? Not really, but he’s the only person with a foot in both worlds, and therefore he decides that it’s his duty to tip the situation decisively in one direction.
Lee’s most daring move, in fact, was not his hero’s climactic action, but all of Mookie’s laid back actions before that. We’ll look at that next time…
Updated to the sixth and final checklist! Self-centered pizza delivery man Mookie works at the only white business in his neighborhood, Sal’s Pizzeria, which Sal runs with his sons Pino and Vito. Mookie lives with his sister Jade, who bugs him to be a better employee and be more responsible to his baby Hector and Hector’s mother Tina. Other denizens of the block include smooth DJ Senor Love Daddy, old bum Da Mayor, wise advice giver Mother Sister, mentally challenged Smiley, angry young man Buggin’ Out, and angrier young man Radio Raheem. Buggin’ Out tries to organize a boycott of Sal’s because Sal only has pictures of Italian-Americans on the wall, and Smiley and Raheem eventually join him, bringing racial tensions to a boil. Radio Raheem chokes Sal and then gets killed by the police, sparking a riot in which Mookie contributes to the destruction of the Pizzeria.
PART
#1: CONCEPT 17/19
The Pitch: Does this concept excite everyone who
hears about it?
Is the
one sentence description uniquely appealing?
Not especially : “A conflicted
black pizza delivery man working for the only white business on his block
must decide what to do when a race riot breaks out.” This movie was sold on
the success of the writer /director /star’s previous two movies, which were
more broadly comedic.He cashed
in that goodwill here with a more ambitious movie.
Does
the concept contain an intriguing ironic contradiction?
A comedy about a race riot.
Is this a story anyone can identify with, projected onto
a bigger canvas, with higher stakes?
Yes, everyday city tensions
culminate in a death and a riot.
Story Fundamentals: Will this concept generate a
strong story?
Is the
concept simple enough to spend more time on character than plot?
Very much so.There’s almost no plot.
Is
there one character that the audience will choose to be their “hero”?
Mookie, for lack of a better one, but he’s
relatively passive and we’re never sure if he’s a hero or an anti-hero.It’s interesting that Mookie is
sometimes the POV character and sometimes not.Sometimes he leads us to the next character and sometimes
the camera jumps away from him independently.It’s almost as if the camera is the hero, sometimes
agreeing with Mookie and cutting along with his perspective, sometimes
cutting in opposition to his POV to things that impeach what he just said, or
impeach what he’s about to say. (The case can also be made that Buggin’ Out
is a co-hero or co-anti-hero, because he’s the one who is actually driving
the plot and Mookie is just reacting.)
Does
the story follow the progress of the hero’s problem, not the hero’s daily
life?
Yes and no.We think for the most of the movie that this is just a
day-in-the-life story, but we realize at the end that almost everything we’ve
seen has contributed to the riot.
Does
the story present a unique relationship?
Yes, a pizza delivery man and his
boss.
Is at
least one actual human being opposed to what the hero is doing?
The hero is doing very little,
but yes, Pino opposes him.
Does
this challenge represent the hero’s greatest hope and/or greatest fear and/or
an ironic answer to the hero’s question?
Greatest fear and ironic
answer to his question: The mayor says, “Do the right thing” and Mookie
responds, “That’s it?” It turns out to be a tough question.
Does
something inside the hero have a particularly volatile reaction to the challenge?
Very much so, he surprises
himself and us when he throws the garbage can through the window.
Does
this challenge become something that is the not just hard for the hero to do (an obstacle) but hard for the hero
to want to do (a conflict)?
Very much so.He was told that there will always be
a place for him there just before the riot.
In the
end, is the hero the only one who can solve the problem?
Yes and no.Nobody is working to solve the
problem, but Mookie turns the tide, for good or ill.He doesn’t solve the problem, but he
attempts to, in his own way.
Does
the hero permanently transform the situation and vice versa?
Transform the situation: he destroys
the Pizzeria, banishing the whites from the neighborhood.Transform the hero: It’s hard to
tell.It doesn’t seem so on the
surface, but we suspect it has.He spends the night with Tina and Hector, which seems like a bit of a
personal breakthrough.
The
Hook: Will this be marketable and generate word of mouth?
Does
the story satisfy the basic human urges that get people to buy and recommend
this genre?
Yes,
it’s very funny but also a satisfying drama.
Does
this story show us at least one image we haven’t seen before (that can be
used to promote the final product)?
The street chalk, the radio
station, the direct address framing, etc.
Is
there at least one “Holy Crap!” scene (to create word of mouth)?
The racial slur montage, the
riot, etc.
Does
the story contain a surprise that is not obvious from the beginning?
Just the climax.
Is the
story marketable without revealing the surprise?
Yes.
Is the
conflict compelling and ironic both before and after the surprise?
Yes.
PART
#2: CHARACTER 19/22
Believe:
Do we recognize the hero as a human being?
Does
the hero have a moment of humanity early on? (A funny, or kind, or oddball,
or out-of-character, or comically vain, or unique-but-universal “I thought I
was the only one who did that!” moment?)
Goofy: “Don’t ya love your
brother Mookie anymore?I loves
ya Jade.” Then bold: Yells “Hell no!” to the Jehovah’s Witnesses.
Is the
hero defined by ongoing actions and attitudes, not by backstory?
Entirely.We never learn any backstory, other
than what we can infer.
Does
the hero have a well-defined public identity?
The easy-going pizza delivery
man, the bridge between the blacks and whites.
Does
the surface characterization ironically contrast with a hidden interior self?
Simmering rage and
irreconcilable contradictions.
Does
the hero have a consistent metaphor family (drawn from his or her job,
background, or developmental state)?
For lack of a better word:
Jive: “Don’t start no shit, won’t be no shit.” “He’s gonna be beating you
like an egg for the rest of your life.” “No, you the man.” “Vito is down.”
Does
the hero have a default personality trait?
Sullen
Does
the hero have a default argument tactic?
Ignores your protests, then
repeats what he said in the first place.
Is the
hero’s primary motivation for tackling this challenge strong, simple, and
revealed early on?
He tries to bridge the
communities not because he’s a good guy, but because he wants $250 a week
plus tips.
Care:
Do we feel for the hero?
Does
the hero start out with a shortsighted or wrongheaded philosophy (or accept a
false piece of advice early on)?
“Gotta get paid”
Does
the hero have a false or shortsighted goal in the first half?
“Gotta get paid.”
Does
the hero have an open fear or anxiety about his or her future, as well as a
hidden, private fear?
Open: He
wants to keep the peace to keep his job.Hidden: Buggin’ Out tells him to “stay black”, and he
worries that he’s not doing that.
Is the
hero physically and emotionally vulnerable?
Not much, in either case.He’s serenely confident in his
ability to avoid physical danger (he’s the only one who doesn’t flinch at
Radio Raheem, and chills him out instantly), and he’s got emotional armor on.
Does
the hero have at least one untenable great flaw we empathize with? (but…)
Shiftless (takes forever on
his deliveries, avoids his son and his son’s mother unless he wants sex)
Invest:
Can we trust the hero to tackle this challenge?
…Is that great flaw (ironically) the natural
flip-side of a great strength we admire?
Funny, empathetic to everyone,
laid-back, a good lover.
Is the
hero curious?
By implication, because he
knows everyone in the neighborhood and cares about their business.
Is the
hero generally resourceful?
His resourcefulness never
really gets tested, because he never accepts a large challenge.Like Jake when he walked a beat in
Chinatown, he’s doing as little as possible.
Does
the hero have rules he or she lives by (either stated or implied)?
Gotta get paid, don’t mess up
my business, don’t put up with mistreatment
Is the
hero surrounded by people who sorely lack his or her most valuable quality?
No one else is willing to
bridge the two worlds.
…And
is the hero willing to let them know that, subtly or directly?
Yes, he stands up to both Pino
and Buggin’ Out, trying to chill them both out.
Is the
hero already doing something active when we first meet him or her?
He’s counting his money.
Does
the hero have (or claim) decision-making authority?
Sort of. Despite being on the
job, he still considers his time his own “My name ain’t Kunta Kinte.” He does
his own business on his epic delivery trips.He’s really his own boss.
Does
the hero use pre-established special skills from his or her past to solve
problems (rather than doing what anybody would do)?
Not really.He’s not solving a lot of problems.
PART
#3: STRUCTURE (If the story is about the solving of a large problem) 15/21
1st
Quarter: Is the challenge laid out in the first quarter?
When
the story begins, is the hero becoming increasingly irritated about his or
her longstanding social problem (while still in denial about an internal
flaw)?
Yes, he’s sick of his sister’s
nagging, sick of Pino shifting his own responsibilities onto him.(And he’s in denial about his shiftlessness
and suppressed rage)
Does
this problem become undeniable due to a social humiliation at the beginning
of the story?
His sister heckles him on the
way out the door, then he’s ordered to sweep up even though that’s not his
job.Not long later, Tina calls.
Does
the hero discover an intimidating opportunity to fix the problem?
No. He thinks the only solution
to his sister and Tina’s nagging (and Smiley’s for that matter) is just to
keep at his job and get paid.He does not realize until the end that this solution is untenable.The closest thing he gets to an
intimidating opportunity is when Da Mayor says “Always to the right thing.”
But Mookie doesn’t know what that means, so he feels that he gets no
opportunities to rise above his situation.
Does
the hero hesitate until the stakes are raised?
Nothing but, for most of the
movie.
Does the hero commit to pursuing the opportunity by the
end of the first quarter?
When Buggin’ Out announces his
boycott, Mookie promises Sal that he’ll shut it down, which is his
interpretation of “Do the right thing” at this point.
2nd
Quarter: Does the hero try the easy way in the second quarter?
Does
the hero’s pursuit of the opportunity quickly lead to an unforeseen conflict
with another person?
It’s nor really unforeseen.
Buggin’ Out continues his boycott attempts despite Mookie, and Pino’s racism
is also escalating.
Does
the hero try the easy way throughout the second quarter?
He assumes that he’s shut down
Buggin’ Out and he can go on about his day.He encourages Vito to stand up to Pino instead of
confronting Pino directly.
Does
the hero have a little fun and get excited about the possibility of success?
Yes, he has fun with Vito,
Senor Love Daddy, etc. He starts to anticipate the money, and promises to buy
a picture from Smiley at the end of the day when he gets paid, etc.
Does the
easy way lead to a big crash around the midpoint, resulting in the loss of a
safe space and/or sheltering relationship?
There are two, but Mookie
misses both, because he’s in the shower (This is an odd structure!)In Buggin’ Out’s arc, he reaches a
lowest point in the montage where everybody contemptuously refuses to join
his boycott, then he takes it to Sal by himself and only humiliates
himself.Sal then has a midpoint
disaster of his own when Pino sits him down and says he doesn’t to inherit
the business, then yells at Smiley in the street, in view of everyone while
Sal shakes his head in misery.This is probably the key moment that leads to the riot (though it was
improvised and wasn’t in the script!) Mookie then sort of looses a safe space when Jade comes to
the pizzeria and drives a wedge between Mookie and Sal.
3rd
Quarter: Does the hero try the hard way in the third quarter?
Does
the hero try the hard way from this point on?
Somewhat.He actually visits his son and Tina,
he confronts Pino more directly, etc.
Does
the hero find out who his or her real friends and real enemies are?
When Sal spits racist
invective at Radio Raheem, Mookie decides that Sal is unacceptably racist
after all, and the chasm cannot be crossed.
Do the
stakes, pace, and motivation all escalate at this point?
Very much so.
Does
the hero learn from mistakes in a painful way?
The killing of his friend and
the riot teaches him that his attempts to ease tensions were foolish.
Does a
further setback lead to a spiritual crisis?
Yes, something in him snaps.
4th
Quarter: Does the challenge climax in the fourth quarter?
Does
the hero adopt a corrected philosophy after the spiritual crisis?
We can sense that the mayor’s
words are now echoing in his head: Always do the right thing.
After
that crisis, does the hero finally commit to pursuing a corrected goal, which
still seems far away?
Not really: he acts rashly,
then reverts into paralysis.
Before
the final quarter of the story begins, (if not long before) has your hero
switched to being proactive, instead of reactive?
He waits too long.
Despite
these proactive steps, is the timeline unexpectedly moved up, forcing the
hero to improvise for the finale?
He is forced to improvise,
yes, but neither side ever has a timeline.
Do all
strands of the story and most of the characters come together for the
climactic confrontation?
Very much so.
Does
the hero’s inner struggle climax shortly after (or possible at the same time
as) his or her outer struggle?
The same time.
Is
there an epilogue/ aftermath/ denouement in which the challenge is finally
resolved (or succumbed to), and we see how much the hero has changed
(possibly through reversible behavior)
Yes.He talks to Sal the next morning.
PART
#4: SCENEWORK 17/20 (Buggin’ Out notices that there are no brothers on the
wall of the pizzeria and decides to organize a boycott.)
The
Set-Up: Does this scene begin with the essential elements it needs?
Were
tense and/or hopeful (and usually false) expectations for this interaction established
beforehand?
No.
Does
the scene eliminate small talk and repeated beats by cutting out the
beginning (or possibly even the middle)?
Yes, it begins at the moment
that Buggin’ Out takes offense at the amount of cheese on his slice.
Is
this an intimidating setting that keeps characters active?
It is now.
Is one
of the scene partners not planning to have this conversation (and quite
possibly has something better to do)?
Sal doesn’t expect to or want
to converse, he just expects Buggin’ Out to pay and go away.
Is
there at least one non-plot element complicating the scene?
Who is the little girl that
Mookie is talking to?Smiley is
outside.We can hear snippets of
unrelated conversations.
Does
the scene establish its own mini-ticking-clock (if only through subconscious
anticipation)?
How much trouble will Buggin’ Out
cause in the time it takes him to eat his slice?Once Sal comes out with the bat, it’s clear that Mookie
and Vito and Pino have to get Buggin out of there before violence breaks out.
The
Conflict: Do the conflicts play out in a lively manner?
Does this scene both advance the plot and reveal
character through emotional reactions?
Yes. Sal and Buggin’ Out both lose
it.Pino and Mookie are also
affected.There’s also a great little
moment between Pino and Sal when Pino silently takes Sal’s bat away.
Does
the audience have (or develop) a rooting interest in this scene (which may
sometimes shift)?
As with almost every scene in
the movie, our sympathies are totally split.We basically side with Sal (as Mookie does, at this point)
but Buggin’ Out makes a pretty good case.
Are
two agendas genuinely clashing (rather than merely two personalities)?
It starts out as a clash of
personalities and then becomes a clash of agendas.
Does
the scene have both a surface conflict and a suppressed conflict (one of
which is the primary conflict in this scene)?
Surface: get free extra
cheese, then put brothers on the wall.Suppressed: what are you doing in my neighborhood?Why don’t we own our own stores?
Is the
suppressed conflict (which may or may not come to the surface) implied
through subtext (and/or called out by the other character)?
Sal willfully confusing the
meaning on “brothers” has subtext to it.The pictures themselves carry a subtext.The ownership issues is in the
subtext until Sal calls it out.
Are
the characters cagy (or in denial) about their own feelings?
Mookie, as always, keeps his
feelings on this issue hidden and/or suppressed.
Do
characters use verbal tricks and traps to get what they want, not just direct
confrontation?
Yes.When Buggin’ asks “How much?”, he’s implying that this
isn’t worth $1.50.
Is
there re-blocking, including literal push and pull between the scene partners
(often resulting in just one touch)?
Lots.Buggin’ sits down, then Sal comes out
with the bat, then Mookie takes Buggin’ out.
Are
objects given or taken, representing larger values?
Giving the pizza, refusing to
take it, taking the parmesan, taking it away again, taking out the bat, Pino
taking it away, etc.
The
Outcome: Does this scene change the story going forward?
As a
result of this scene, does at least one of the scene partners end up doing something
that he or she didn’t intend to do when the scene began?
Yes, Mookie and Sal decide to
kick Buggin’ out.
Does
the outcome of the scene ironically reverse (and/or ironically fulfill) the
original intention?
Not really.
Are
previously-asked questions answered and new questions posed?
Previously asked: Not
really.New: Will Buggin’ Out
stay away?Will his boycott take
off?
Does
the scene cut out early, on a question (possibly to be answered instantly by
the circumstances of the next scene)?
No, it goes to the end.
Is the
audience left with a growing hope and/or fear for what might happen next?
(Not just in the next scene, but generally)
Yes, violence has now been
intimated.
PART
#5: DIALOGUE 15/16
Empathetic:
Is the dialogue true to human nature?
Does
the writing demonstrate empathy for all of the characters?
Very much so.Each individual viewpoint is so
strongly and empathetically stated that we have no idea where the author’s
ultimate sympathies lie.
Does
each of the characters, including the hero, have a limited perspective?
Very much so.Only the camera sees the riot coming.
Do the
characters consciously and unconsciously prioritize their own wants, rather
than the wants of others?
Very, very much so.Even Buggin’ Out, the one person
supposedly motivated by civic concerns, is really upset about cheese and his
shoes.
Are
the characters resistant to openly admitting their feelings (to others and
even to themselves)?
Yes and no.There are times when they openly
discuss issues that probably would not openly discuss or admitted to, but
these moments are stylized (almost like Shakespearean asides), so it
works.
Do the
characters avoid saying things they wouldn’t say and doing things they
wouldn’t do?
For the most part.Jade obliquely refers to Mookie’s
baby.Mookie and Sal are very
indirect in their confrontation over Jade, etc.But then we get explosions of people saying what they
normally don’t say, like the racism montage, which is intentional and works
well.
Do the
characters interrupt each other often?
Very much so.
Specific: Is the dialogue specific to this world
and each personality?
Does
the dialogue capture the jargon and tradecraft of the profession and/or
setting?
Jargon
of the setting: very much so.Tradecraft: not so much, but that’s fine.
Are
there additional characters with distinct metaphor families, default
personality traits, and default argument strategies from the hero’s?
Metaphor family: Sal:
Italian-American “The both of youse” “this is a respectable business.” And
subtle racism “You paying now or on layaway?” Pino: open racism “How come you
niggers are so stupid?Da Mayor:
old-fashioned “Good morning, gentlemen” “Clean as the Board of Health”, Default personality trait: Sal:
magnanimous, Pino: angry, Vito: sweet, Buggin’: agitated, Raheem: very
agitated, Argument strategy: Sal:
increasingly irritated reminders, Pino: muttered asides, Buggin’: appeal to
(his own) logic.
Heightened:
Is the dialogue more pointed and dynamic than real talk?
Is the
dialogue more concise than real talk?
Yes.
Does
the dialogue have more personality than real talk?
Very much so.
Are
there minimal commas in the dialogue (the lines are not prefaced with Yes,
No, Well, Look, or the other character’s name)?
Yes.
Do
non-professor characters speak without dependent clauses, conditionals, or
parallel construction?
Yes, everyone.
Are
the non-3-dimensional characters impartially polarized into head, heart and
gut?
Senor Love Daddy: head/heart.
Sal: Heart. Pino, Raheem and Buggin’: spleen. Mookie: gut.
Strategic: Are certain dialogue scenes withheld
until necessary?
Does
the hero have at least one big “I understand you” moment with a love interest
or primary emotional partner?
No, nobody
really understands Mookie.
Is
exposition withheld until the hero and the audience are both demanding to
know it?
There is almost no exposition,
but what little there is (such as why they have their pizzeria here) comes
out gradually and naturally.
Is
there one gutpunch scene, where the subtext falls away and the characters
really lay into each other?
There are several, but that is
explained by the heat making everybody irritable.It’s clear that there wouldn’t normally be this many
confrontations.
PART
#6: TONE 10/10
Genre:
Does the story tap into pre-established expectations?
Is the
story limited to one genre (or multiple genres that are merged from the
beginning?)
Comedy-drama, mixed
throughout.
Is the
story limited to sub-genres that are compatible with each other, without
mixing metaphors?
“Urban”, the
day-in-the-life-of-a-city genre.
Does
the ending satisfy most of the expectations of the genre, and defy a few
others?
Comedy and drama come with
fewer expectations than other genres, and it meets them all.
Separate
from the genre, is a consistent mood (goofy, grim, ‘fairy tale’, etc.)
established early and maintained throughout?
Vibrant, brash, outrageous, buoyant.
Framing:
Does the story set, reset, upset and ultimately exceed its own expectations?
Is
there a dramatic question posed early on, which will establish in the
audience’s mind which moment will mark the end of the story?
It’s clear that this will be
the story of one day, and it is asked what will be the consequences of the
heat.
Does the story use framing devices to establish
genre, mood and expectations?
Senor Love Daddy is our
narrator, and he warns us that this will be a hot, dangerous day.
Are
there characters whose situations prefigure various fates that might await
the hero?
Will Mookie end up like Da
Mayor?Like Sal? Should he be
more like Buggin’ Out?Like his
sister?
Does
foreshadowing create anticipation and suspense (and refocus the audience’s
attention on what’s important)?
Yes, Sal takes out the bat
early on, then puts it away unused,Raheem fights a boombox battle with the Koreans, the Italian-American
has his car soaked, etc.
Are
reversible behaviors used to foreshadow and then confirm change?
Mother sister reverses her
stance on Da Mayor, Mookie stays the night, Vito stands upt to Pino.
Is the
dramatic question answered at the very end of the story?
Yes, we find out the
consequences of the heat.
PART
7: THEME 13/14
Difficult:
Is the meaning of the story derived from a fundamental moral dilemma?
Can
the overall theme be stated in the form of an irreconcilable good vs. good
(or evil vs. evil) dilemma?
Integration vs.
self-preservation
Is a
thematic question asked out loud (or clearly implied) in the first half, and
left open?
Pino: “Who’s working for who?”
Do the
characters consistently have to choose between goods, or between evils,
instead of choosing between good and evil?
Not much.There are few moral dilemmas until
the end.
Grounded:
Do the stakes ring true to the world of the audience?
Does
the story reflect the way the world works?
Very much so.
Does
the story have something authentic to say about this type of setting (Is it
based more on observations of this type of setting than ideas about it)?
Very much so.There are a million little authentic
observations, like the kids scraping the cans on the sidewalk to better
direct the spray of water.
Does
the story include twinges of real life national pain?
Very much so.Real life police killings are
referred to many times.
Are
these issues and the overall dilemma addressed in a way that avoids moral
hypocrisy?
Yes.
Do all
of the actions have real consequences?
Yes.
Subtle: Is the theme interwoven throughout so
that it need not be discussed often?
Do
many small details throughout subtly and/or ironically tie into the thematic
dilemma?
Yes.Raheem’s speech, Mother Sister’s advice, the interactions
with the Koreans, etc.
Are
one or more objects representing larger ideas exchanged throughout the story,
growing in meaning each time?
The bat, the boom box, etc.
Untidy:
Is the dilemma ultimately irresolvable?
Does
the ending tip towards one side of the thematic dilemma without resolving it
entirely?
It’s still split pretty much
evenly at the end, as evidenced by the conflicting quotes from Martin and Malcolm
Does
the story’s outcome ironically contrast with the initial goal?
Yes, Mookie just wanted to get
paid, but he destroys his job instead.
In the
end, is the plot not entirely tidy (some small plot threads left unresolved,
some answers left vague)?
Yes.Will Mookie comes back to Tina, etc.
Do the
characters refuse (or fail) to synthesize the meaning of the story, forcing
the audience to do that?
They do discuss it, but they
don’t kill the meaning or settle the dilemma as they do so.