The Expanded Ultimate Story Checklist: Does the hero have at least one untenable great flaw we empathize with?

It’s no secret that all heroes need a great flaw—that’s one piece of advice that goes all the way back to Aristotle. Let’s look at some of the reasons why: 

• Flaws add conflict: The hero is his own worst enemy. 
• Flaws add motivation: The hero has a big reason to change. 
• Flaws generate sympathy: It’s easy to feel for a flawed hero. 
• Flaws foster identification: The audience feels flawed and is more likely to identify with flaws than strengths. 

Great, so let’s add a lot of flaws, right? Well, not so fast. One of the biggest mistakes many stories make is to pile on the pathos with a shovel. In the interest of telling a “brutally realistic” story, they actually present a comically unrealistic amount of gloom and doom.

I began to despair the state of American independent cinema after sitting through a grueling one-two punch of Greenberg and Big Fan in one weekend. The protagonists of these movies are such overexaggerated screwups they literally can’t do anything right. Even when opportunity is staring them in the face, they are itchy, twitchy, belligerent, and incapable of pursuing their own self-interest. This makes them utterly unconvincing caricatures.

Their behavior is unbelievable, because in real life you can’t screw up all the time and get through your day. More important, such characters just aren’t compelling enough to hold an entire movie. It’s impossible to care about a main character who won’t meet you halfway.

But the writer of Big Fan also wrote a great movie called The Wrestler, which accurately captures the tragedy of the functional screwup: the stand-up guy who’s clever and charming but nevertheless persists in screwing up 5 percent of the time, which is enough to ruin his life. How many decisions do you make in a day? What if every twentieth decision was self-destructive? That’s all it would take, isn’t it? The Wrestler is tragic because Mickey Rourke’s character is screwing up a good thing. The heroes of Greenberg and Big Fan aren’t tragic at all because they’re just screwing up lives that are already hopelessly wretched.

Straying from the Party Line: The All-Powerful All-Confident Hero of “Blazing Saddles”

Bart in Blazing Saddles is a far more confident and powerful hero than we’re used to:

• He shows no hesitation before happily strolling into this wildly dangerous situation.
• We don’t find out a lot about his hopes/fears/questions.
• He seems to be largely un-anxious and downright bemused by his extraordinary journey, except one brief moment of self-doubt at the exact midpoint, but even here, we can see on his face that he’s almost incapable of staying unhappy for more than five seconds.
• He’s not especially vulnerable, physically or emotionally.
• He experiences no gutpunch. No one ever confronts him about any flaws.

So why does it work? Bart is a type of hero we haven’t encountered yet: the trickster. The trickster has nearly omnipotent powers, and yet remains sympathetic because his struggles are not physical but social: he is destined to be an outcast.

As an almost-magical being with the confident ability to happily run circles around his haters, Bart’s most obvious literary antecedent is Bugs Bunny (He does an outright imitation at one point, complete with Bugs’s theme music.) * So why do we like Bugs? Because his opponents are trying to kill him for no reason. He’s an asshole, but all he wants is to be an asshole in peace, and they won’t let him. (By contrast, look at this early Bugs cartoon, in which he actually lures Elmer Fudd in, and we suddenly hate him.) Elmer and Yosemite Sam are rampaging gun-wielding killers (of the nervous and aggressive varieties), but they meet the one guy that can defeat them.

We identify with Bart despite his lack of external and internal weakness, simply because his enemies are so vile, his situation is so desperate (though he doesn’t show it), and his chances for ultimate acceptance is so non-existent.We cannot truly fear for him, but we can still pity him.

And then there’s another issue: he may not betray much anxiety, but it is there in the subtext. We’ll discuss that next time.

*But who was Bugs’s antecedent? Br’er rabbit of course. So now we have a Yoruba legend, transformed into a slave folk tale character, then mass-marketed by a white author writing in a black voice (Joel Chandler Harris), then transformed into a deracialized (but somewhat Jewishized) cartoon character (Bugs Bunny, as voiced by Mel Blank) then turned into a black western hero by a Jewish screenwriter (Andrew Bergman, author of the original screenplay), then transformed again by a black co-screenwriter (Richard Pryor) and black actor that had been brought in to restore some of the original trickster authenticity!

The 40 Year Old Virgin	YES.  He’s shy.
Alien	YES, the same good instinct that led her to try to maintain quarantine causes her to be blind to Ash’s treachery until it’s almost too late.
An Education	YES. Duplicity, contempt, gullibility
The Babadook	YES. Denial of grief, resentment of her son.
Blazing Saddles	YES. He’s too sarcastic and lacks control over his anger.
Blue Velvet	YES. for each: he’s voyeuristic, creepy, and morally slippery
The Bourne Identity	YES. he’s been dehumanized and snapped like a broken machine.
Bridesmaids	YES. She’s depressed, broke, and won’t let things go.
Casablanca	YES. he’s become too cold-blooded and apolitical.
Chinatown	YES. Too cold.
Donnie Brasco	YES.  He’s so dedicated that he abandons his family and beats up innocent people to preserve his cover.
Do the Right Thing	YES. Shiftless (takes forever on his deliveries, avoids his son and his son’s mother unless he wants sex)
The Farewell	YES. Ultimately the movie flips in the final title card, revealing that her flaw was her self-centered, western urge to tell the truth (which we had perceived to be a strength)
The Fighter	YES. He’s too selfless.
Frozen	YES. Naivite, haplessness
The Fugitive	YES. He’s naïve, about the justice system, about the politics of the medical world, etc.
Get Out	YES. He’s too much of a passive observer.
Groundhog Day	YES. Bitterness, passivity, bad predictions of future
How to Train Your Dragon	YES. His flaws are rather small, but he can be naïve and pessimistic.
In a Lonely Place	YES. his hostility cannot be controlled.
Iron Man	YES. He’s arrogant, sleazy, naïve, etc.
Lady Bird	YES. She’s vain, she betrays her friend in a quest to be cool.
Raising Arizona	YES. Criminal tendency, desire to take the easy path, perhaps a secret wish to return to jail.  As the brothers say, “Either way we’ll be set for life.”
Rushmore	YES. He’s vainglorious.
Selma	YES. We get several flaws, but he doesn’t really struggle to overcome them and the movie struggles with depicting them in a compelling way.  When his adultery is revealed, it comes out of left field and we certainly never see him struggling with staying chaste or anything like that.  Another possible flaw the movie seems to imply is his reticence to use his army, but the movie never really pulls that trigger, it’s just implied but never openly addressed.
The Shining	YES. Jack has many flaws.  Danny is over-sensitive to evil, and spends the middle of the movie catatonic.
Sideways	YES. Many: he’s a morose, duplicitous, unfaithful, hostile, and an alcoholic who steals from his mom.
The Silence of the Lambs	YES. She’s too humble, too much in denial about her past.
Star Wars	YES. Naïve and whiny.
Sunset Boulevard	YES. he’s easily corruptible and passive.

The Expanded Ultimate Story Checklist: Is the hero physically and emotionally vulnerable?

I was once in a pitch meeting where they wanted me to rewrite a high-profile project that began with a series of scenes in which a sniper eliminated various clones who were all living separate lives, spread out around the country, unaware of each other’s existence. (This was a few years before Orphan Black.) 

As they pointed out, part of the appeal of the premise was that you could start with the lead actor getting shot and killed, which would shock the audience until they realized this was just one of many clones. I agreed that this presented a neat opportunity.

But then the producer said, “So we start by meeting the first guy, and we’re sure he’s the hero of the movie because he drives a great car and goes home to his great apartment where he has sex with his hot girlfriend. But then he gets shot in the head! The audience will be so shocked that we’ve killed off our hero!”

But that’s totally wrong, because the audience would not identify with this guy as the hero. The villain, maybe, but not the hero. Heroes are defined by their vulnerabilities as much as their invulnerabilities.

I pitched them a very different fake-out hero: My guy works in a stereo store in the mall. When we meet him, he’s down on one knee proposing to a dubious goth girl co-worker, who laughs out loud and tells him to try again. He thanks her for her honesty and asks for tips on how to do it better—he was just practicing for his real girlfriend, who works in another store in the mall. With the good-natured ribbing of the goth girl, he perfects his pitch. After his shift ends, he rushes over to his girlfriend’s place of work only to find that she has already left. He catches up to her in the atrium, but she says she’s fed up with his unwillingness to commit and starts to leave, so he decides to propose right there and then. He gets down on one knee and offers her a ring while a crowd gathers, all wondering what she’s going to say. Finally, she says yes! The crowd cheers! Then BLAM! His head explodes from a sniper’s bullet.

Now that’s a shock, because this guy was really acting like a hero. Making yourself vulnerable is heroic. Exceeding your capabilities is heroic. Taking a risk is heroic. Schtupping your hot girlfriend is not heroic. Audiences hate it when they’re asked to identify with invulnerability. This is why audiences couldn’t embrace the second and third Matrix movies. By the end of the first one, the hero could already control the fabric of his reality. Who’s going to identify with that?

Rulebook Casefile: Physical Vulnerability in The Farewell 

I say in my checklist that characters should be both emotionally and physically vulnerable, but is that true in The Farewell? 

Billi is very emotionally vulnerable, but physical vulnerability barely comes into the story. But there is just one brief, odd moment that injects a hint of physical vulnerability. We see Billi come home to her New York apartment and jump for her life when she faces every New Yorker’s greatest fear: Hearing someone inside their apartment. Then she realizes the “intruder” is a bird …but there’s no window open, so how did a bird get in her apartment? She can’t figure it out. She opens a window and shoos it out, and the mystery is never solved. But later, in her Chinese hotel room, it happens again with another bird.

What does the bird represent? The symbolism is thankfully left vague. (The bird is death? Her conscience? Her fear of not fitting in?  Her grandmother?) But I think the main thing it accomplishes is giving the heroine just a moment of fear and physical vulnerability, which increases our bond.

Even if your story takes place almost entirely on the emotional level, it’s good to include at least a little moment where the heroine feels physically vulnerable, just to ground things.

When I give people notes, I often worry that they’ll hit a note too hard.  Sometimes I give a second set of notes on a project and I see that they have.  If you read something like my checklist and think, “Oh, yeah, that does sort of feel like it’s missing, I could add a moment like that,” see if you can find the subtlest possible way to add that element. Just a hint goes a long way.

The 40 Year Old Virgin	YES.  Very much so.
Alien	YES. Just slightly, in both cases.  Cracks in her tough façade show through at the end.
An Education	YES. Yes.
The Babadook	YES.
Blazing Saddles	NO. Not really.  He almost dies on the job, then he lets his uncontrolled anger almost get him killed, but after that he pretty much walks between the raindrops.  Nobody can lay a finger on him, physically or emotionally (except for the brief midpoint moment.)
Blue Velvet	YES.  He feels pain when hit, and even more pain when he does the hitting.
The Bourne Identity	YES. Moreso the latter, because he’s pretty invulnerable once he’s in action, but the frequent shots of the bulletholes in his sweater and back remind us on the one time  his skills failed him.
Bridesmaids	YES. Very much so.
Casablanca	YES. although more the former than the latter: no one successfully lays a finger on him.
Chinatown	YES. Yes, get’s injured, feels hurt.
Donnie Brasco	Just barely.  He’s pretty dominating in both.
Do the Right Thing	NO. 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.
The Farewell	YES. Emotionally very much so.  The closest she comes to physical vulnerability is when she comes back to her New York apartment and finds a bird inside, despite the fact that no windows are open.  Later, the same thing happens in her China hotel room.
The Fighter	YES. Very much so.
Frozen	YES. She is damaged physically and emotionally in the opening minutes.
The Fugitive	Somewhat. In both cases, he’s pretty tough.  He does have a limp throughout though, but it seems to come and go.
Get Out	YES. Very much so.
Groundhog Day	YES. Even though he becomes functionally immortal for a while, he always feels physical and emotional pain.
How to Train Your Dragon	YES. Very much so.
In a Lonely Place	YES. very much so.  Bogart was great at acting tough and then totally wilting.
Iron Man	YES. A literal weak heart and a figurative weak heart.
Lady Bird	YES. Very much so: She has a cast, and she’s emotionally open to scenes that hurt her.
Raising Arizona	YES.
Rushmore	YES. Very much so.  He gets bruised and heart-broken regularly.
Selma	YES. A white racist cold-cocks him, the FBI damages his marriage, activists wound him with their criticism.
The Shining	YES. both for both.
Sideways	YES. Moreso emotionally, but both.
The Silence of the Lambs	YES. She’s small and emotionally wounded.
Star Wars	YES.
Sunset Boulevard	YES. thought he thinks he isn’t in either way.

The Expanded Ultimate Story Checklist: Does the hero have an open fear or anxiety about his future, as well as a hidden, private fear?

Heroes should have at least one big open fear, preferably a universal one the majority of the audience shares, such as the fear of failure, loneliness, or commitment. Of course, they shouldn’t have so much fear they’re cowering in the corner. We want the kind of fear that gets them to actively forestall a dreaded outcome. 

No matter what happens in a scene, it will be far more compelling if we already know your hero hoped or dreaded it would happen. Perhaps your hero is forced to face the one thing he most fears (Indiana Jones in Raiders of the Lost Ark gets dropped in a snake-filled tomb). Or maybe what happens to him is a metaphor for his fear (Jimmy Stewart in Rear Window is afraid of marrying Grace Kelly, so he becomes obsessed with a worst-case marital situation across the courtyard). Either way, the situation is more compelling to us because we know it’s going to tap into the character’s emotional anticipation.

Most heroes have a public common fear they express openly from the beginning. But in many stories, they also have a hidden, unique fear that’s revealed halfway through. Chief Brody in Jaws is openly worried he won’t cut it in his new beach-town job. We find out halfway through that he’s also secretly afraid of the water. Likewise, Clarice Starling in Silence of the Lambs is afraid that she’s in over her head at the FBI. Then we find out she’s also secretly afraid that her dirt-poor background will show through. In both cases, the key to solving the characters' public fear is to confront their hidden, private fear.

To hook an audience, get them to anticipate what might happen next. Of course, your audience will take their emotional cues from your hero, so start the first scene by asking, What is my hero anticipating? It could be something good, of course, but it’s usually a stronger choice if it’s something he dreads. Even if your audience doesn’t like your hero yet, they’ll find they need to know if the dreaded event happens. That buys you some more time to get the audience on your side.

The 40 Year Old Virgin	YES. That his secret will be found out. That there’s something really wrong with him.
Alien	YES. Open, fear of breaking the rules. Hidden, an implied universal fear of childbirth.
An Education	YES. Public: That she won’t get into University. Private: That she’ll be as dull and unsophisticated as her mother and father.
The Babadook	YES. Open: She’s worried about her son’s fears, inability to sleep. Hidden: She fears his violent tendencies, fears that she will hurt him, perhaps even fears that she will molest him, as he has taken her husband’s place in her bed, and she shuns his hugs and physical contact in bed.
Blazing Saddles	NO.
Blue Velvet	YES. that the people who cut off the ear will never be caught. Yes, that the world is evil, that he’s evil.
The Bourne Identity	YES. Open: that he’ll be killed or captured. Private: that he’ll discover he’s not a good person
Bridesmaids	YES. Never getting married, that she’s going to lose her friend.
Casablanca	YES. Fear of attachments, fear of losing control of his bar.  Hidden: That he’ll have to face what happened in Paris.
Chinatown	YES. Open: that he won’t get paid. Hidden: that’s he’s a sleaze/leach.
Donnie Brasco	YES.  Open: Getting caught in a lie. Private: losing his soul to the mafia.
Do the Right Thing	YES. 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.
The Farewell	YES. She’s worried she’s going nowhere, she’s worried that she’s too Chinese for America and too American for China.
The Fighter	YES. Open: That he’s a stepping stone, that his family is holding him back.  Hidden: That he can’t succeed without them.
Frozen	YES. Open: never get married, never bond with sister. Hidden: Have to hurt sister.
The Fugitive	YES. Open: He’s afraid of crime (he has a security system and a gun) Hidden: He’s afraid that he doesn’t fit in with the rich (his wife grew up rich, he grew up with less money), and that he looks like a waiter in his tux.
Get Out	YES. Open: that he’ll be “chased off the lawn with a shotgun”, Hidden: that he killed his mother, that everybody wants to kill him.
Groundhog Day	YES. Open: That he’ll never get a better job. Private: That he’s a terrible person.
How to Train Your Dragon	YES. Open: Failing to impress his dad.  Private: Afraid that he’s totally different from the rest of village.
In a Lonely Place	YES. Open: that he’s wasted his life.  Hidden: that he’ll kill somebody.
Iron Man	YES. Open, only slightly: that he won’t close this deal. Hidden: That he’s a death merchant.
Lady Bird	YES. Open fear: She won’t get into an east coast school, that she’ll always look like she’s from Sacramento.  Hidden, private fear: That she’ll lose her mom.
Raising Arizona	YES. Open: Going back to jail.  Hidden: That he’ll be a bad dad.
Rushmore	YES. Open: He wants a girlfriend. Hidden: That he’s just a barber’s son.
Selma	YES. Open: that he will fail to force the legislation, private: that he will get himself or his family killed, or his wife will leave him.
The Shining	YES. Open. Jack: going broke. Danny: No.  Hidden: Jack: going crazy. Danny: that something horrible will happen at the hotel.
Sideways	YES. Open: His novel won’t get published.  Hidden: His novel isn’t any good.
The Silence of the Lambs	YES. Open: That she’s not good enough. Hidden: That she’s a hick.
Star Wars	YES. Open: That he’ll never get to be a pilot.  Hidden: That he’ll be corrupted.
Sunset Boulevard	YES. Open: not getting work. Hidden: that he’s a hired monkey.