Stavros Stavrides | Cyber Film School

The Challenge of Act Three

Act Three is so important that many screenwriting teachers advise their students not to writing until the final act is clear – know your ending before you begin.

By Charles Deemer, Edited by Stavros C. Stavrides

I do not tell my students this for a variety of reasons. The creative process does not comfortably follow rules, and many professional screenwriters are on record (and other writers as well, including Stephen King) as admitting that often they do not know their endings when they begin writing.

To be sure, as a script nears completion, the “ending” must be part of the fabric of a story’s beginning, but for some writers a long process is necessary to discover all the parts of the story plan. For example, I use my first drafts as the process by which I discover what it is I really want to write about — in other words, my first drafts serve discovery, not fine craftsmanship, which comes in subsequent drafts.

The point I am belaboring is that it’s quite all right, at this early stage (writing the first draft), if you don’t know as much about your story as you eventually must. That’s why writing is called A PROCESS.

The Hero’s Recovery

What is certain, however, is that the third act must begin with the hero’s recovery after the low point that ends Act Two. In the tradition of Hollywood movies, heroes win. The guy gets the girl, the good guy defeats the bad guy. Even in darker independent films that buck this tradition, the hero must recover in order to participate in the final movement of the story, Act Three.

So your first job is to get the main character out of the fix you created. This should be done by the hero being active, not passive (being rescued by someone else), and of course it should be believable within the suspension of disbelief that your audience will give you if they are wrapped up in your story.

The Ticking Clock

Armed with a second wind, the hero now moves towards the showdown of the movie. In The Graduate, for example, Act Two ends when Benjamin learns that Elaine has been pulled out of school by her father and, worse, is about to get married. Benjamin’s task is to find her and stop her from doing so.

Thus he races against “a ticking clock” — a deadline for the action he must perform — in order to rescue Elaine from her family. If you can get a ticking clock into your third act, so much the better.

In Shakespeare in Love, the ticking clock happens as the play progresses with a sick actor playing Juliet, who won’t be able to make his entrance. At the last minute, Viola plays the role, playing opposite Will’s Romeo, and they can play out the tragedy of their “real life” love on stage.

The Big Showdown

The showdown is the final confrontation between protagonist and antagonist, between Benjamin and his love’s family, between Will and his writing block. Benjamin steals Elaine away from the altar, and Will uses his loss of Viola to immortalize her in a new play, Twelfth Night. Will loses the girl but he does not lose his Muse.

The Growth of the Hero

The hero usually comes out of this final showdown a victor and a changed person. He or she experiences personal growth in some way. In The Graduate, there’s an irony attached to growth: seeing the lovers on the bus, riding into the sunset with everyone staring at them, we don’t really know what the future holds.

In Shakespeare in Love, Will’s growth as an artist is clear in his ability to move from personal loss to artistic triumph — Viola as Muse has given him new strength to write, and we don’t expect him to drift from muse-lover to muse-lover with this new artistic strength.

Fade Out

There’s nothing quite as satisfying as ending act three and writing FADE OUT. When you do this, take time off to be good to yourself. Writing a complete draft of a screenplay is no small achievement.

Your Next Step: Writing Is Rewriting >>

<< The Grunt Work Of Act Two

The Grunt Work of Act Two

Act Two is where structural problems commonly invade the script more than anywhere else, and tilt the entire story out of focus. To combat this tendency, it’s best to think of Act Two in two parts, the first half and the second half.

By Charles Deemer, Edited by Stavros C. Stavrides

Act Two, Part One

Act Two begins with the protagonist firmly in the “extraordinary” world, the new experience of the story, with no turning back. Initially, things go well. for example:

The scientist in ‘Jurassic Park’ observes the roaming dinosaurs with awe.
Benjamin in ‘The Graduate’ happily begins an affair with Mrs. Robinson.
Will in ‘Shakespeare In Love’ overcomes writer’s block with a new play in rehearsal and a mysterious new actor before him.

Midway through Act Two, ‘part one’ of the act moves into part two – a major plot point called the MIDPOINT.

As with all plot points, this spins the story in a new direction but sometimes it also defines a new goal for the protagonist. Examples:

In ‘Jurassic Park’, the prehistoric animals get free during a storm, terrorizing everyone; the dangerous aspect of the theme park is introduced.
In ‘The Graduate’, Benjamin decides he’s in love not with Mrs. Robinson but with her daughter, Elaine; He has a new goal.
In ‘Shakespeare In Love’, Will discovers that the mysterious actor is really a woman, Viola, the love of his life, his muse – and he now is writing from the energy of her love.

In each case, the story spins into a broader, more complex dimension. More is going on. This greater density foreshadows the trouble that lies ahead.

NOTE: Lew Hunter, the author of Screenwriting 434, has called writing Act Two the “blue collar” work of screenwriting. He is absolutely correct. Act Two with its two parts makes it as long as Acts One and Three combined. It’s why some teachers refer to a four-act paradigm rather than a three-act paradigm: four equal parts. We prefer retaining the three-act terminology because it meshes so well with the beginning-middle-end structure, which is the essence of dramatic storytelling.

Act Two, Part Two

In the last half of Act Two, the journey of the protagonist turns downward, ending at the end-of-act plot point, which is the low point of the hero’s journey. It is here that all seems lost:

In ‘Jurassic Park’, the security system of the park collapses when the computer system has to be rebooted. This hugely magnifies the danger from the animals.
In ‘The Graduate’, Benjamin learns that Elaine has been pulled from school and is being rushed into marriage.
‘In Shakespeare In Love’, Viola’s disguise is made public and the theater is shut down.

In each case, things look grim for the protagonist: the scientist’s life is in danger, along with everyone else’s; Benjamin looks to lose Elaine, and Will looks to lose both his wonderful new play and Viola.

It is the purpose of Act Three, which we cover in The Challenge of Act Three, to resolve these issues back in favor of the protagonist.

This post is a support article for the chapter “Screenwriting” in
Cyber Film School’s Multi-Touch Filmmaking Textbook.

Typical Problems with Act Two

Here are some typical problems that can occur in Act Two:

Loss of Focus
Insufficient Build
Antagonist’s Revenge
Too Hi a Low Point

Loss of Focus

The hero’s journey that was clearly set up in Act One becomes lost as the story becomes more complex.

Sometimes subplots become more important than the central dramatic issue; sometimes minor characters become more interesting than the protagonist. The spine of the story collapses.

Insufficient Build

In the journey through Act Two, tension must build right along with the complexity of the story.

This means there must be a through-line connecting the turns of the story and that the stakes must be raised at each twist. The story is like a poker pot with the bets raising and raising again.

Antagonist’s Revenge

If one character is apt to steal the focus from the protagonist, it is the bad guy, the antagonist.

Often bad guys are more interesting to write about than good guys, but you must remember that your story always belongs to the hero.

Study “Silence of the Lambs” for how a dynamic antagonist can be created without sacrificing focus on the protagonist.

Too high a low point.

Movies are bigger than life in all ways. Often writers do not put their protagonists in deep enough a hole at the end of Act Two. The stakes aren’t high enough, the danger is not great enough, and the sense of defeat not threatening enough.

A common command to screenwriters during the rewriting process is “crank it up!” Make the story matter more to the hero — and to the audience. Make the story bigger than life.

The Challenge Of Act Three >>

<< The Rhythms Of Act One

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The Rhythms of Act One

In a three-act screenplay Act One needs to accomplish a lot in very little time, with a “call to action” that moves the main character into the story’s spine.

By Charles Deemer, Edited by Stavros C. Stavrides

The Hook

The first challenge of the screenwriter is to get and hold our attention. I give my university students “the popcorn test.” It goes this way.

A couple sits down in a movie house the moment before the feature begins. The woman leans to the man and says, “We should have gotten popcorn.” The feature begins. The man looks at the screen. Can he go out and buy popcorn or is he so riveted by what’s happening on the screen that he stays put?

Your job, as a screenwriter, is to make sure no one can leave to buy popcorn.

In ‘Jurassic Park’, we open with a guard being killed by some sort of strange, caged creature. What is going on? We want to know. We are hooked.

Look at the first minute or several minutes of any movie — and then ask yourself, “Why am I watching this?” If you have an answer, the movie has a good hook. So should you.

The Complication

With the attention of the audience “hooked” to our opening, it’s time to move quickly to the spine of our story. What I call “the complication” is an important story event that begins this movement.

In ‘Jurassic Park’ the complication is the scene following the guard’s death when a lawyer reveals that the accident may delay the opening of the theme park of cloned prehistoric animals.

What is needed is the endorsement of a respected scientist that the park is safe, despite the accident. Notice how this moves us to the participation of the main character, the scientist.

Sometimes the complication involves the protagonist directly, as in ‘The Graduate’. Here we have a “soft hook” – a quirky main character whom we meet at the film’s opening moment.

Who is this guy? At the complication, Mrs. Robinson makes her first move on him. This request for a ride home, and later a more explicit proposition, propels us to the focus of the story, which is their affair and its consequences.

This post is a support article for the chapter “Screenwriting” in
Cyber Film School’s Multi-Touch Filmmaking Textbook.

The Call To Action

Perhaps the most important moment in the structure of Act One is the “call to action.” This is an action by the main character that moves him or her directly into the spine of the story, that dramatic area of focus that locates what the story is essentially going to be about.

In Jurassic Park, the scientist is given such a good deal to check out the theme park that he can’t refuse. He says “Yes,” and the story reveals its focus. In The Graduate, Benjamin hems and haws about the possibility of an affair with Mrs. Robinson and finally, in his bungling way, says “Yes.” Again, the story finds its focus.

A call to action is usually the protagonist saying “Yes”, doing an action that is affirmative, to a question that moves us into the central focus of the story.

End of Act One Plot Point

Once “in the story,” the hero reaches a point where normal life (how the protagonist lived before the story) gives way to extra-normal life, the “new life” in the story.

Mythic critics call this the move from the ordinary to the extraordinary worlds. The scientist moves from his usual life on a dig to the extraordinary experience of being among cloned prehistoric animals. Benjamin moves from uncertain, bored college graduate to a man having an affair with a married woman and friend of his family.

The journey of the main character is from ordinary life into the highly charged, unusual experiences represented by the story. The story has begun in earnest.

Summary

Let’s look at the rhythms of Act One again, with another example.

The Hook. We get the audience’s attention. In Shakespeare in Love, a debtor is being tortured. He promises the pay off the debt with monies from Shakespeare’s new play.
The Complication. Time to move toward the focus of the story. But Shakespeare has writer’s block. He needs a female muse.
The Call to Action. The hero says, “Yes.” First, Shakespeare says, “Yes” to the wrong woman – he catches her in bed with someone else. Then he meets Viola at a dance. He wants her. He starts writing like crazy, even writing her a sonnet. We have found the focus, their love story and the play this energy creates.
Plot Point. The hero moves from the ordinary to the extraordinary world. Will puts his new play in rehearsal and casts the disguised Viola. He’s falling in love with Viola and impressed with the actor at the same time, not realizing they are the same. He is at the top of his powers.
The life of this play is his new world, and in it, he will meet all the coming surprises of the story.

These are the rhythms of Act One, all of which must be established in 20 to 30 pages.

Let’s move on to Act Two, which most screenwriters believe is the most difficult to write.

The Grunt Work Of Act Two >>