The Ultimate Story Checklist: The Fighter

Updated to the sixth and final checklist!

In this true story, Micky Ward is a would-be prizefighter in Lowell, Massachusetts, held back by his exploitative family: mother Alice, brother Dicky (both brothers spell their names without an “e”), and seven heckling sisters. Dicky used to be a boxing hopeful himself but he’s now a crack addict. Micky finally breaks away when he starts dating a brash barmaid named Charlene. After Dicky goes to prison, Micky agrees to work with new people who give him two conditions: “No Dicky, No Alice.” He finally starts to win, but once Dicky is released, Micky starts taking his advice again, and, to everyone’s surprise, it helps, so he finally forces Charlene, Alice, Dicky, and his new cornermen to work together, allowing him to win the championship.

PART #1: CONCEPT 18/19
The Pitch: Does this concept excite everyone who hears about it?
Is the one sentence description uniquely appealing?	The inspiring true story of a boxer who breaks free of his explotative family to become a champion.
Does the concept contain an intriguing ironic contradiction?	Sort of: a gentle boxer lacks self-esteem.
Is this a story anyone can identify with, projected onto a bigger canvas, with higher stakes?	Very much so.  We all have to break free of our families in order to succeed.
Story Fundamentals: Will this concept generate a strong story?
Is the concept simple enough to spend more time on character than plot?	Yes.
Is there one character that the audience will choose to be their “hero”?	Mickey.
Does the story follow the progress of the hero’s problem, not the hero’s daily life?	Yes.  It begins when he realizes that his family is the problem, and ends when they reconcile with his girlfriend.  They could have gone further to show Micky’s most famous fights, but they don’t, because that’s outside the scope of the problem.
Does the story present a unique relationship?	Yes, a boxer and his crackhead brother.
Is at least one actual human being opposed to what the hero is doing?	Yes, his new girlfriend won’t let him screw himself over any more.
Does this challenge represent the hero’s greatest hope and/or greatest fear and/or an ironic answer to the hero’s question?	Greatest hope: he becomes champion and ultimately doesn’t have to give up either side of his life.
Does something inside the hero have a particularly volatile reaction to the challenge?	He’s ready to snap when the movie begins.
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 can’t stand the thought of choosing between his family and his girlfriend.
In the end, is the hero the only one who can solve the problem?	Not really.  He’s fairly passive, and many of the breakthroughs are forced upon him: he dad makes him ask Charlene out, Charlene forces him to make good on that, his new handlers force him to cut his family out… Most importantly, Charlene and Dicky make peace without him.
Does the hero permanently transform the situation and vice versa?	Yes.
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?	Very much so: All four sub-genres (Boxing, addiction, romance, family drama) end heroically.
Does this story show us at least one image we haven’t seen before (that can be used to promote the final product)?	Not really.  This is frequently a problem with dramas.
Is there at least one “Holy Crap!” scene (to create word of mouth)?	Sort of.  Amy Adams cursing like a sailor.  Dicky jumping out the window.
Does the story contain a surprise that is not obvious from the beginning?	Very much so: Micky needs Dicky after all.
Is the story marketable without revealing the surprise?	Yes.
Is the conflict compelling and ironic both before and after the surprise?	Very much so.
PART #2: CHARACTER 21/22
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?)	He joke-fights with his brother while paving streets, then high-fives some black people, kisses a mentally challenged kid. Funny: you gotta pay them to shut up.
Is the hero defined by ongoing actions and attitudes, not by backstory?	Well, he, his whole family, and really his whole town is defined by his brother’s backstory (while Micky doesn’t really have one of his own), but the fact that Micky puts up with that actually does a good job of defining him.
Does the hero have a well-defined public identity?	The stepping stone.
Does the surface characterization ironically contrast with a hidden interior self?	He’s ready to break out.
Does the hero have a consistent metaphor family (drawn from his or her job, background, or developmental state)?	Family: The first thing he says to Charlene is “You’re Kenny Fleming’s sister”. Everybody is defined by family.  Gentleman: “Be nice! Be respectful! Don’t disrespect her!”
Does the hero have a default personality trait?	Meek, quiet, humble, seething
Does the hero have a default argument tactic?	Shrugs, gives up, and mutters his dissent
Is the hero’s primary motivation for tackling this challenge strong, simple, and revealed early on?	Sort of, he wants to be a champion, but he’ll sacrifice his chances to make money for his family.  In the end, though, he realizes that that’s a sickness, and the best way to help them is to pursue his own self-interest.
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)?	He starts out with the right boxing philosophy, but he says about his brother, “Nobody pushes me harder.”  That’s wrong.
Does the hero have a false or shortsighted goal in the first half?	Win the fight against Saul Mamby.
Does the hero have an open fear or anxiety about his or her future, as well as a hidden, private fear?	Open: That he’s a stepping stone, that his family is holding him back.  Hidden: That he can’t succeed without them.
Is the hero physically and emotionally vulnerable?	Very much so.
Does the hero have at least one untenable great flaw we empathize with? (but…)	He’s too selfless.
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?	He’s loyal to and trusts all of those he loves.
Is the hero curious?	Yes, he studies his future opponents, etc.
Is the hero generally resourceful?	No.  He has to be prodded into everything and shown how to do it.
Does the hero have rules he or she lives by (either stated or implied)?	“I’m no stepping stone, that’s not who I am, the next one’s gonna show who I am.” Nobody better mess with my family. “I’m gonna pick my punches.” “I’m a boxer, not a brawler.”
Is the hero surrounded by people who sorely lack his or her most valuable quality?	Everybody, even Charlene, is loud but he’s quiet.  Nobody else has his earning potential.
…And is the hero willing to let them know that, subtly or directly?	Yes and no.  He’s very reluctant to, but he speaks up for himself at several key points.
Is the hero already doing something active when we first meet him or her?	He’s paving and sparring.
Does the hero have (or claim) decision-making authority?	He has it, but he disclaims it.
Does the hero use pre-established special skills from his or her past to solve problems (rather than doing what anybody would do)?	Yes, he learned his boxing philosophy as a child.
PART #3: STRUCTURE (If the story is about the solving of a large problem) 19/21
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)?	Longstanding social problem: Can’t get good fights, trainer never shows up.  Denied flaw:  His attachment to his family is the problem.
Does this problem become undeniable due to a social humiliation at the beginning of the story?	Dicky doesn’t show up, he’s forced into a bad fight, loses brutally.
Does the hero discover an intimidating opportunity to fix the problem?	He meets Charlene.
Does the hero hesitate until the stakes are raised?	He ditches out of their first date.
Does the hero commit to pursuing the opportunity by the end of the first quarter?	She pursues him and they hook up.
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?	His family doesn’t approve of her.
Does the hero try the easy way throughout the second quarter?	He keeps them apart, tries to stick with Dicky despite her advice.
Does the hero have a little fun and get excited about the possibility of success?	They have a strong relationship. They have a family dinner to celebrate an upcoming fight.
Does the easy way lead to a big crash around the midpoint, resulting in the loss of a safe space and/or sheltering relationship?	Dicky gets arrested outside, Micky goes to help, gets hand busted.
3rd Quarter: Does the hero try the hard way in the third quarter?
Does the hero try the hard way from this point on?	He finally tries to make it without Dicky.
Does the hero find out who his or her real friends and real enemies are?	Yes, he realizes that he should trust Charlene more than his family.
Do the stakes, pace, and motivation all escalate at this point?	Yes, he starts winning fights.
Does the hero learn from mistakes in a painful way?	Watching the documentary is painful for all.  Breaking with Alice is painful.
Does a further setback lead to a spiritual crisis?	It’s not so much a setback as a dangerous bit of success: he takes good advice from Dicky, putting him back in danger of falling into his old ways.
4th Quarter: Does the challenge climax in the fourth quarter?
Does the hero adopt a corrected philosophy after the spiritual crisis?	I want you both in my corner
After that crisis, does the hero finally commit to pursuing a corrected goal, which still seems far away?	Yes, he realizes that he’ll have to force his new handlers to allow Dicky back in.
Before the final quarter of the story begins, (if not long before) has your hero switched to being proactive, instead of reactive?	Very briefly, when he demands that they all work together, but once he does that, they do the work of working out their differences and leading him to the championship.
Despite these proactive steps, is the timeline unexpectedly moved up, forcing the hero to improvise for the finale?	No.  The fight happens on schedule with lots of advance word.
Do all strands of the story and most of the characters come together for the climactic confrontation?	Yes, they’re all there at the fight.
Does the hero’s inner struggle climax shortly after (or possible at the same time as) his or her outer struggle?	Quite a bit before.  The last 15 minutes of this movie “roll downhill” a little bit, as Mickey solves his problems out of the ring well before the last fight.
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)	Interview, Dicky says, “He put Lowell back on the map.” Micky says “We”.  “Who’s the pride of Lowell now? Right here.” Points at Micky. “I gotta go.”
PART #4: SCENEWORK 19/20 (Micky and Charlene confront Micky’s family about his career.)
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?	Everybody is extremely tense.  We’ve seen the sisters turn the mom against Micky.
Does the scene eliminate small talk and repeated beats by cutting out the beginning (or possibly even the middle)?	Yes, we begin after they’ve been waiting for Alice for a while.
Is this an intimidating setting that keeps characters active?	This is the mom’s bear cave and everybody is scared of her there.  Also having seven angry sisters there.
Is one of the scene partners not planning to have this conversation (and quite possibly has something better to do)?	Yes and no, they’ve all planned to be there, but they’d all rather be anywhere else.  Alice has planned on ignoring Charlene but isn’t allowed to.
Is there at least one non-plot element complicating the scene?	The sisters’ nicknames.
Does the scene establish its own mini-ticking-clock (if only through subconscious anticipation)?	They’re all committed to staying until they reach a deal, but the subconscious ticking clock that they’re all aware of is Mickey’s ever-faltering resolve, which will collapse if they can wear him out long enough.
The Conflict: Do the conflicts play out in a lively manner?
Does this scene both advance the plot and reveal character through emotional reactions?	For everyone.
Does the audience have (or develop) a rooting interest in this scene (which may sometimes shift)?	We are rooting for Charlene to break Micky free of Dicky and Alice.
Are two agendas genuinely clashing (rather than merely two personalities)?	Very much so.
Does the scene have both a surface conflict and a suppressed conflict (one of which is the primary conflict in this scene)?	Surface conflict: Why has Micky been hard to get a hold of? Who is Charlene? Suppressed conflict: Will Alice and Dicky stay on as manager and trainer?
Is the suppressed conflict (which may or may not come to the surface) implied through subtext (and/or called out by the other character)?	The Vegas offer is brought up instead of saying that Alice and Dicky are taking his money.  Charlene is called an “MTV girl” before she forces them to define that.
Are the characters cagy (or in denial) about their own feelings?	All except Charlene.
Do characters use verbal tricks and traps to get what they want, not just direct confrontation?	Alice and Dicky offer a new bout to pre-empt the conversation.  Dicky claims he can get money.
Is there re-blocking, including literal push and pull between the scene partners (often resulting in just one touch)?	Oddly, there is no re-blocking after Alice and Dicky sit down.  Presumably it just would have been too hard to choreograph an 11-character scene in a small space.  There is one touch, when Dicky puts a hand on Micky’s knee to pull him back in.
Are objects given or taken, representing larger values?	Not really.  Alice has a business binder, but doesn’t offer a paper of the new deal to Micky, as we would expect. She smokes a cigarette, and smoke wafts onto everyone.  Neither really counts
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?	Sort of. It mostly ends in a draw.  Micky agrees to give Dicky a chance to get the money.
Does the outcome of the scene ironically reverse (and/or ironically fulfill) the original intention?	Yes, Micky and Charlene came to confront the family, but they get sucked in.
Are previously-asked questions answered and new questions posed?	Previous: What will happen when Charlene meets them?  What will the next fight be?  New: How will Dicky get the money?
Does the scene cut out early, on a question (possibly to be answered instantly by the circumstances of the next scene)?	Dicky says he’ll get the money, Micky responds, “You? How?”
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, we hate that he’s being sucked back in.
PART #5: DIALOGUE 16/16
Empathetic: Is the dialogue true to human nature?
Does the writing demonstrate empathy for all of the characters?	Yes.  Not as much for the sisters, but they’re still pretty lovable.
Does each of the characters, including the hero, have a limited perspective?	Very much so.
Do the characters consciously and unconsciously prioritize their own wants, rather than the wants of others?	Well, Mickey’s whole problem is that he fails to do this, but he learns the value of prioritizing his own wants, so that counts.
Are the characters resistant to openly admitting their feelings (to others and even to themselves)?	Well, everybody’s pretty brash except Mickey, but everybody has hard confessions dragged out of them in the end.
Do the characters avoid saying things they wouldn’t say and doing things they wouldn’t do?	Again, there’s little they won’t say, but yes, they’re all nicely passive aggressive about Micky being courted by other managers, for instance.
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?	Tons of Lowell-ese. Boxing tradecraft:  “Stepping-stone” “Head-body-head” etc.
Are there additional characters with distinct metaphor families, default personality traits, and default argument strategies from the hero’s?	Metaphor family: Alice: Lowell, Dicky: boxing, Charlene: bar, Default personality trait: Alice: vain, manipulative. Dicky: gregarious, hyper, sketchy. Charlene: blunt, sexual, honest.  , Argument strategy: Alice: Guilt trip, false promises. Dicky: lies, appeal to old times. Charlene: hits you where it hurts.
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.
Are the non-3-dimensional characters impartially polarized into head, heart and gut?	Despite the fact that the personalities are extreme, everyone is 3-dimensional.  You could say that Dicky and Micky are 2-way polarized: silent vs. prattling, slow-burn vs. flame-out, etc.  Dicky’s constant advice to Micky: “Head-Body-Head-Body!”, speaks to the fact that a champion must be both a boxer (head) and a brawler (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?	Very much so, after the first date.
Is exposition withheld until the hero and the audience are both demanding to know it?	Yes, it’s expertly parceled out, particularly our growing awareness of the magnitude of Dicky’s (and therefore Micky’s) problem.
Is there one gutpunch scene, where the subtext falls away and the characters really lay into each other?	Yes, a few.  When Charlene says she won’t let Dicky back in Micky’s corner unless he says that Sugar Ray tripped, that’s a hell of a gutpunch.  Also when Micky says “I thought you were my mother too.”
PART #6: TONE 9/10
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?)	It combines four: Sports, biopic, drama, merged throughout
Is the story limited to sub-genres that are compatible with each other, without mixing metaphors?	Yes. Boxing, addiction, romance, family drama
Does the ending satisfy most of the expectations of the genre, and defy a few others?	It satisfies just about all.
Separate from the genre, is a consistent mood (goofy, grim, ‘fairy tale’, etc.) established early and maintained throughout?	Yes, it’s surprisingly upbeat and funny throughout, no matter how grim it gets, which is one of Russell’s gifts.
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?	He says he’s going to be a champion.
Does the story use framing devices to establish genre, mood and expectations?	Interviews with Micky and Dicky.
Are there characters whose situations prefigure various fates that might await the hero?	Dicky is a cautionary tale for Micky.
Does foreshadowing create anticipation and suspense (and refocus the audience’s attention on what’s important)?	Not really.  Russell is a very direct sort of filmmaker.  Everything feels very raw and real, and that describes the characters as well.  He likes to disappear as a director, and not grant himself foreknowledge of their actions. There’s never any ominous camerawork or music.
Are reversible behaviors used to foreshadow and then confirm change?	Dicky goes to the crackhouse one last time, etc.
Is the dramatic question answered at the very end of the story?	Micky becomes champion.
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?	Family vs. independence.
Is a thematic question asked out loud (or clearly implied) in the first half, and left open?	Implied: is he a boxer or a brawler or can be be both?
Do the characters consistently have to choose between goods, or between evils, instead of choosing between good and evil?	Should you protect your criminal brother from a police beating? Etc.
Grounded: Do the stakes ring true to the world of the audience?
Does the story reflect the way the world works?	Very much so.  It’s a true story.
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. They shot in Lowell, and some people played themselves.
Does the story include twinges of real life national pain?	Very much so.  Lots about crack, etc.
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.  Dicky goes to jail.  Both brothers have kids they rarely see.  The broken hand keeps Micky out of the ring for a long time.
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?	All of the talk about fighting styles parallels what’s going on out of the ring: “He takes a lot of punishment, I don’t know why he does it, he stays on the inside, I fight on the outside.” Etc.
Are one or more objects representing larger ideas exchanged throughout the story, growing in meaning each time?	Charlene’s number on a bar napkin.  The “pride of Lowell” cake.
Untidy: Is the dilemma ultimately irresolvable?
Does the ending tip towards one side of the thematic dilemma without resolving it entirely?	Family and independence must be kept in balance.
Does the story’s outcome ironically contrast with the initial goal?	Very much so.  What starts out as a story about breaking free of your rotten family becomes a story about taking strength from your rotten family.
In the end, is the plot not entirely tidy (some small plot threads left unresolved, some answers left vague)?	Very much so. The events are very messy.
Do the characters refuse (or fail) to synthesize the meaning of the story, forcing the audience to do that?	No, the epilogue hits it pretty squarely on the head, but that’s fine.  It’s a sports movie.

Final Score: 115 out of 122

The Meddler: Adding a Post-Credits Gag to Age of Ultron

The makers of Age of Ultron did their best to get the word out that there would be no post-credits gag at the end, merely a mid-credits teaser. Nevertheless, I’m sure that many non-fandom moviegoers didn’t get the memo, and stuck around for naught.

So let’s try to grant them some belated satisfaction! Yesterday, I mentioned that I could weary of Whedon’s preference for subverting our pre-established narrative expectations instead of creating new ones, but, being in that mode, I found myself cooking up a Whedon-esque post-credits bit that might have offered some satisfaction.

One thing I admired about the movie was that Ultron was totally defeated, without an “I’ll be back” moment, (After all, we know that Marvel has bigger fish to fry), but given that we do have that expectation, I thought it might be fun to play with it:

• After the last credit, we cut back to a shot of the final Ultron head lying where the Vision left it in the forest. As ominous music builds, we slowly track in on its dead eye socket…Then, just as blackness fills the screen, a glowing red eye flickers on! 
• Then BAM! Thor’s hammer smashes it to smithereens, abruptly ending the ominous music.
• THOR: Thou were right, Vision. ’Tis good we kept watch.
• VISION: I told you so.

SMASH to black. Lights come on, curtains close.

Rulebook Casefile: Turning Phrases in Age of Ultron

I really did like Age of Ultron, honest, though I seem to do nothing but nitpick. To wit…

I like a lot of Joss Whedon’s work, but I’ve always found his public persona fairly irksome: too eager to hoard credit and diminish the contributions of his co-workers. Typically, he’s dropped hints in the press that the stuff you like about Age of Ultron was all his and the stuff you didn’t like was all Marvel.

But I disagree, as some of the things that irked me were classic Whedon problems:

• The story was at times more interested in subverting our pre-established narrative expectations than in creating its own expectations.
• Too many different characters employed the same kind of quippy postmodern jokes.
• Too much of the dialogue consisted of characters reversing their own turns of phrase, or reversing each others’.

I don’t have the script, and I didn’t take notes, but even just visiting IMDB’s quotes page, you find two examples:

• Tony Stark: Banner and I have been doing research...
• Steve Rogers: -That would affect the team.
• Tony Stark: -That would END the team.

And later:

• Thor: IS THAT THE BEST YOU CAN DO?
• Ultron: THIS is the best I can do.

Neither of these is that bad, and you can pull this stuff off occasionally, but it quickly wears out its welcome, because we can never totally ignore how unnatural this is. As I discussed before, we don’t listen very well to each other, and different minds have different built-in syntax, so we’re unlikely (and probably unable) to neatly reverse anyone else’s turn of phrase.

Later, we have a better example of how to pull off a rousing dialogue callback:

• Tony Stark: How do we cope with something like that?
• Steve Rogers: Together.
• Tony Stark: We’ll lose.
• Steve Rogers: We do that together too.

Steve repurposes his own language, which sounds far more natural, but achieves the same clever callback feeling which gives dialogue both more fizz and more resonance.

What's the Matter with Superheroes, Part 3: The Villain Problem

I’ve tried my hand at writing a superhero movie from scratch, and quickly found that it’s a lot harder than it looks. One of many problems you have to solve is this: where do the villains come from? It’s hard enough to dream up a situation that would create and motivate a super-hero, but now you have to create an equally powerful super-villain and quickly smash them together. There are, of course, short-cuts that will get you there, but those short-cuts create their own problems.

Let’s start by looking at the different types of super-villain origin, pro and con:

Completely separate origin from the hero: Superman, All three of the original Spider-Man movies, Captain America 2, Iron Man 3, Fantastic Four 2

• Pros: The hero is in the clear morally. Somebody would have needed to stop this bad guy, so it’s good that the hero was there.
• Cons: If it’s the first one, it takes an awful long time to set up two origin stories (think Green Goblin in Spider-Man 1), and even later it distracts from the story a lot (think Sandman in Spider-Man 3)

Same incident creates both: Superman 2, Fantastic Four 1, the new “Flash” TV show, “Smallville”, all six X-Men movies, Captain America 1 (the Red Skull, that is. The rest of the Nazis are in the previous category), The recent Spider-Man reboot

• Pros: Much easier to write and more streamlined.
• Cons: It’s all a bit of a wash, isn’t it? One part of the problem wipes out another part of the problem. Civilians still would have been better off if the whole mess had never happened.

Villains creates himself or his weapon using the good guy’s stuff: Superman Returns, Iron Man, Incredible Hulk

• Pros: Ironic. Fairly streamlined.
• Cons: Even worse than the previous category, because now the hero deserves blame for leaving his stuff around. The villainy results from his negligence.

Hero flat-out creates the villain: Avengers 2, Green Lantern (his organization, anyway)

• Pros: It’s ironic, it’s painful, it speaks to our fears of power spinning out of control.
• Cons: So many! Not only is every death in the movie is the fault of the hero, but each of those deaths has to be subtracted from the tally of lives saved in all the other movies featuring that hero! (There’s a reason why the body count in Avengers 2 was so low!)

Okay, so let’s look at the super-villains’ plans, pro and con:

Street crime: Daredevil movies and TV, most Batman movies 

• Pros: We all understand it. It’s an independent threat that would have happened anyway, so the hero is really a hero for stopping it.
• Cons: It has to be big enough to justify super-hero-ing, or else it will make the decision to put on a costume seem really weird.

Big evil plan that has nothing to do with the hero: Superman, Spider-Man 2, Captain America 2, Iron Man 3

• Pros: The hero is in the clear morally, and he has a fun mystery to solve.
• Cons: It requires a bit more plotting, but there’s very little downside. This is the way to do it. There’s a reason that those are four of the best.

Just attacking the hero, civilians get in the way: Spider-Man 1, X2, Man of Steel, Dark Knight Rises, Thor, Fantastic Four, Iron Man 2

• Pros: Much easier to write. The heroes don’t have to go on patrol, or track anybody down, or summon up any motivation—they just have to defend themselves against the enemies who show up on their doorstep.
• Cons: They aren’t actually heroes anymore. In fact, they’re just the opposite: they’re needlessly endangering civilians just by being around them.

I never understood why the villains were doing what they were doing: The Avengers, Dark Knight Rises, Thor 2

• Pros: If you move fast enough, audiences won’t care!
• Cons: And hour later, they’ll say “Wait…What??”

Ultimately, super-villains have to be the flip side of the hero on some thematic level, but if they have the same origin, or it’s just a grudge match, then you’ve lost the “hero” part. As I said before, action movies require civilians…and ideally those should be civilians that the hero didn’t personally endanger!

Obviously, this was one of the biggest problems with Avengers 2, but to a certain extent that was by design: it helps that this is the middle movie in a trilogy, and it’s clearly supposed to be a low-point. Still, it would have been better if Tony Stank had suffered real consequences and/or guilt for causing all this evil, instead of the car-commercial final scene he had.  Presumably, the consequences will hit later. 

What’s the Matter with Superheroes, Part 2: “This is Not A Good Concept” Cannot Be the Concept

For years, people have waiting for the superhero backlash to hit, but that day of doom has been continually delayed. I think people were really primed to hate Marvel Phase 2, but there was just one problem: the movies were too damn good. I can tell you that I personally was ready to bite the heads off of Iron Man 3, Guardians of the Galaxy, and Captain America 2, but dammit, I loved all three!

Now, however, the push back may be arriving: The reaction to Avengers 2 has been more mixed, the accompanying trailers for Fantastic Four and Ant-Man seem unpromising, and the trailer for Batman vs. Superman is downright despised.

I actually like Avengers 2 a lot, but I thought that one of the major storylines was a big problem, and connected to the big problem with that BvS trailer: You can’t call attention to the fact that this concept makes little sense.

In the original “Avengers” comics, Hawkeye was a cocky, wise-cracking jerk who just inserted himself into the team and then justified his existence at times when you least expected it. The movies, however, chose not to go with that version of the character, instead using the version from an alternate “realistic” version of the Avengers called “The Ultimates”. This Hawkeye is a humble, untalkative civil-servant, assigned to the team by the government to provide his vital archery skills.

This, of course, makes no damn sense --Why would they need an archer?? So if you’re Joss Whedon, how do you handle this non-sensical situation? Unfortunately, he did the worst thing: called attention to it, over and over.

This is a much bigger problem with BvS. The whole trailer is based on the idea that, “Hey, wait just a second, if Superman was real, we’d all hate and fear him.” That’s true, and it’s an interesting angle to take, and a natural one, but ultimately it’s not what the public wants to see.
I’ve been coy about it over the years, because it’s such an unpopular opinion, but close readers of the blog have probably guessed I actually disliked the original Dark Knight movie with Heath Ledger. Quite a bit. Here’s something I wrote about it in an email to friend:

• There are no superheroes in the real world. Because superheroes wouldn’t make any sense in the real world. And that’s fine. When you write a superhero story, you get to create your own world. One where super-heroes do make sense. And why not? It’s fair. It’s allowed. After all, superheroes are just a metaphor. A metaphor for the will-to-power. But stories like this do the opposite. They keep asking niggling nit-pick questions like, “Yeah, but what if there was some psychopath who was so obsessed with you that they threatened to kill random people until you took your mask off? Then what would you do?” Well, of course, then, logically, you’d take the mask off. But we all know full well that’s not going to happen in the movie, so what’s the point, other than to just rub the whole unreality of the “masked vigilante” premise in our faces? It’s an ugly, sadistic and utterly false premise. Writers only use it point out to the reader/viewer that they’re smart enough to have figured out that superheroes don’t actually make any sense. Well congratulations, Einstein. But you get paid the big bucks to dream up situations where they do make sense, not ones where they don’t.

Last time, I talked about how “Daredevil” teased us with the possibility that he was just demented, then tried to make his actions logical after all, which disappointed me. Likewise, I think that Hawkeye only works if he’s a bit of a nut. The more you try to make his presence on the team make sense, the bigger of a hole you dig for yourself.

What's the Matter with Superheroes, Part 1:The Klan Problem

A week of posts on the problems plaguing America’s most popular genre…

So I really liked the first two episodes of Netflix’s “Daredevil”, then disliked the next two, then skipped to the last one, which didn’t make me want to go back and watch the others. (I know, I know, I’ve been told that I missed the best stuff.) It seemed like this series was Marvel’s attempt to merge their sensibility with Christopher Nolan dark, gritty superhero-realism, and it worked far better than it had any right to, but ultimately failed for me.

The problem is this: Both Batman and Daredevil seem on first glance like ground-level heroes who can be given a more realistic treatment, but you quickly run into big problems, both logically and thematically.

As I watched the series, it just so happened that I was reading “The Wars of Reconstruction: The Brief, Violent History of America's Most Progressive Era” by Douglas Egerton, and it made watching the show into a queasy experience. Quick Quiz: Who’s talking here?

• “The corrupt authorities allow a ‘criminal element’ to act like they own our cities and endanger our loved ones, but we’re going to use vigilante action to stop them—Luckily, our enemies are cowardly and superstitious, so we will wear scary masks as we hunt them down in the nighttime, then leave them dangling in public places with notes pinned to their chest warning others of the same fate.”

If you guessed “Daredevil and Batman”, you’re correct! And if you guessed “the Reconstruction-era Ku Klux Klan”, then you’re also correct!

Both the Nolan Batman films and the Netflix “Daredevil” series demand that we constantly ask ourselves, “What would I do in that situation? What’s the next logical step?” The problem, of course, is that the answer they end up with is not one that any sane person would arrive at. So either you have to show that the heroes are insane, or you have to put them in such an extremely evil world that their actions make sense. Unfortunately, the world you’re creating is uncomfortably similar to the world that exists in a Klansman’s head.

One of my favorite moments from those first two episodes of “Daredevil” was a flashback to Matt’s childhood in which his father encouraged him to take a swig of whiskey. That takes a big load off the story, because it opens up the possibility that this guy was simply raised wrong, which allows his actions to be less logically-motivated.

But I felt like the show’s biggest mistake came when DD finally graduated to a real superhero costume at the end and they felt the need to explain that it was simply necessary body-armor...with horns, for some reason. Ugh. Please don’t pretend that this is logical. Ultimately, there’s only one good reason to wear a superhero costume: Because of course you would. That’s it. Either you live in a world where costumed heroes make sense, or you don’t. But if you try to make it make sense in our world, you have to make some very unpleasant assumptions.

More on the dangers of superhero-realism next time…

Rulebook Casefile: Concise Comedy in Modern Family

The “Modern Family” pilot stumbled on the checklist far more than I expected, but the two sections it totally aced are “Scenework” and “Dialogue”, which is no surprise: those have always been the high-points of the show.

Here are two great jokes that also set up the fault-lines within each relationship in wickedly concise ways. The first is from Claire and Phil’s interview:

• CLAIRE: If Haley never wakes up on a beach in Florida, half naked... I've done my job.
• PHIL: Our job.
• CLAIRE: Right... I've done our job.

And here’s one from Mitchell and Cam’s interview. Cameron attributes his weight gain to a nesting instinct and then says with a shrug:

• CAMERON: You can't fight it, so...
• Mitchell clearly wants to criticize this, but he restrains himself. Cam glares at him, waiting for it.
• MITCHELL (defensive): I'm not saying anything!
• CAMERON: You’re saying everything.

Both of these examples were not in the script, possibly because they both involve vocal nuance. Standard teleplay format, for a variety of stupid reasons, doesn’t really allow for italics (you get in trouble for adding it, and the italics-font looks really awkward.) This is partially because actors don’t want to be told which words to stress, but the fact is that both of the above jokes only work if the person reading the script knows where the stress will be.

The unfortunately consequence is that screenwriters are less likely to write nuanced jokes, for fear that they won’t land with readers. As a result,  jokes like those quoted above are far more likely to be created on set. Nevertheless, writers should try to create them on the page, even it means breaking the anti-italics rule.

Straying from the Party Line: Co-Equal Heroes in the Modern Family

The most obvious way that the “Modern Family” pilot departs from the checklist is that it has no one “hero”. The four kids (and the baby) are clearly supporting players, but all six adults are treated as co-equal co-heroes.

This is a very hard way to write. Most shows privilege one fully-realized character or two at the most, and relegate all other characters to their orbit. After all, it’s most easy to create identification with a hero if we prefer that hero to the others around him or her.

But this show makes the daring decision to favor the six adults equally, and it actually works beautifully. The result pays off the implicit promise of the title: not only are we encouraged to see different types of families as equally worthy, we’re encouraged to identify equally with each spouse within those families, which is even more impressive.

So how do you pull this off? How can you possibly have the time to create 6 true heroes in just 22 minutes, with all of the checklist items each hero needs? One trick is that, for any given checklist item, most of the heroes check it off, but rarely all of the heroes. Most are curious, some aren’t. Most are resourceful, some aren’t. Most have metaphor families, but two (Claire and Mitchell) use language that’s fairly generic for their positions. Each has a great flaw, but one of them, Phil, has no great flip-side strength yet…and that’s fine. Because we have six compelling heroes, we’re not going to reject any one of them for lacking one or two elements we would normally insist on. There’s plenty of time for each to round out further in future episodes.

Nevertheless, there are checklist items that they all have: each gets a moment of humanity, a public identity, a hidden interior self, and three rules her or she lives by, etc. Some elements, clearly are more essential than others.

It is truly remarkable that all six of them and four of the kids are so well-sketched and so instantly likeable in one short pilot. Both writers had already created successful sitcoms on their own, and they pushed their game to a new level here.

Rulebook Casefile: Generating Empathy in Modern Family (as Opposed to Trophy Wife)

“Modern Family” has been a big mainstream hit for a long time, so it can be hard to remember that it did seem quite daring when it first came out. Most obviously because it featured gay parents, but also because it contained a sympathetic portrayal of a “trophy wife”.

Sophia Vergara’s Gloria quickly became one of the most beloved characters on the show, so that stopped seeming odd very quickly...so much so that ABC decided that it was no longer something to worry about. They’ve always struggled to find a good time-slot partner for the show, so eventually they decided to create a new show simply called “Trophy Wife”. But the show was a flop, folding after one season.

ABC forgot that most audience members love Gloria despite the fact that she’s a trophy wife, not because of it. The show actually does a lot of subtle work to undermine our ingrained cultural aversion to this situation.

First let’s look at “Trophy Wife,” because Malin Ackerman’s character embodies many of our misgivings about such an arrangement:

• The husband’s two ex-wives are still in the picture, and they’re presented as caricatures. This should make us prefer Ackerman, but instead it offends us, because we feel that we’re being nudged to prefer the young and beautiful one, against our natural inclination.
• She has young stepkids who need her help, but she doesn’t really care, and she actually endangers them, passing one off to her rotten friend, who goes to a bar while the son is locked in a car outside. Hilarious!
• Most importantly, Malin Ackerman is just not a warm performer. Casting goes a long way.

Gloria, on the other hand, is carefully crafted to short-circuit our instinctive judgments. Most obviously because Vergara is so delightful, but the script also helps her out a lot:

• Jay’s unseen ex-wife has moved away, so no one is being shoved aside or getting offended by Gloria’s presence.
• Jay’s kids are grown and don’t need a mother around.
• Gloria brings her own adorable son into the marriage. If she really did marry Jay for money (and that possibility is kept open), it was so that her kid could have financial security, not herself.
• Jay is defensive about the arrangement, but Gloria isn’t. Defense invites offense. As a result, we are somewhat judgmental of Jay, but not Gloria.

Every time a show “breaks all the rules”, it actually becomes the exception that proves that rule.  Woe betide any show that thinks it can take advantage of that supposedly broken barrier.