Ritual pain
Personal hell exercise
The crucifixion
From butterfly to caterpillar
Flip-flops
Characters who don't change
Killing the protagonist

Ritual pain
Personal hell exercise
The crucifixion
From butterfly to caterpillar
Flip-flops
Characters who don't change
Killing the protagonist
Ritual pain
Everybody wants to go to heaven, but nobody wants to die.
—Blues song lyric by D. Nix
So far I have mentioned character change, but without really discussing it. I will get to it in a few seconds.
A few years ago, when I was working on a spec screenplay that involved gangs, I visited a school with a lot of gang activity and asked the kids about how gangs worked. One of the things I found out was that in order to join a gang you had to be "jumped" in. What that means is that you let the other gang members beat the crap out of you for a proscribed amount of time, anywhere from two to five minutes. After that, you are a member of the gang.
This sounded so barbaric to me. I didn't understand why anyone would allow himself or herself to be abused in this way.
A couple of years after that, I was writing a comic book that had an Australian Aborigine as one of the main characters. While doing research, I read about one tribe that would knock one or two teeth out of adolescents as part of their initiation into adulthood.
I thought back on years earlier when a good friend of mine was rushing a fraternity. I never could have let myself be humiliated the way he allowed himself to be.
I began to see a pattern—groups of men or boys all have some kind of harsh initiation into their fold. It doesn't seem to be anything that has to be taught; it appears to be inherent behavior.
Later, I was talking with an African shaman who lived in my neighborhood and he began to talk about the manhood ceremony in his village. He talked about tribal peoples all over the world having similar ceremonies that involved what he called "ritual pain." Sometimes it is ritual scarification or tattooing. Sometimes it is a solo hunt for a beast. Other times it is to survive alone in the forest. In some cultures it involves a circumcision. Blood or the possibility of bloodletting is almost always
part of the ritual. Like the street gangs say, "blood in, blood out." Meaning that you must undergo the pain to get into, or get out of, a gang.
In all cases, the purpose of this ritual seems to be about tearing the individual down and then transforming him from boyhood to manhood. At the end of the ritual he is considered a full-fledged member of the group with the rights, privileges, and responsibilities of an adult of said group.
I asked the shaman about women, and he thought that women don't usually have these kinds of ceremonies because they have a natural bloodletting that signifies their transformation from girls to women. Plus, they often have blood and/or pain when they lose their virginity. And we all know that there is pain in childbirth, and that certainly does change a woman. There is female circumcision, but it is imposed by men on women; therefore, it is not included here.
I started to think of this idea in story terms. The second act is a kind of ritual pain that changes your character. Usually your character has what has been called a fatal flaw. There is something they need to learn before they can be transformed into a better, more mature, person.
What is it that Elliot's brother says to him in E.T.? "Why don't you grow up and think how other people feel?"
We are all resistant to change. There is an old blues song that contains the lyric, "Everybody wants to go to heaven, but nobody wants to die."
There is more than likely something about yourself that you would like to change or that you should change but it is too difficult. I don't know why the world works this way, but the things we should do are always the most difficult. So we rarely run toward change. This is true of your characters as well.
In Toy Story, Buzz Lightyear won't believe that he is a toy and not a space ranger. Also in Toy Story, Woody has to learn to share the affection of his owner with Buzz. When you see the film again, you'll see that this transformation is not an easy one for them, but they are better "people" when they do change.
In Toy Story 2, Woody is in danger of being discarded and meets
Jesse, a clone, who tells him what his fate might be. It is painful for both of them, but they both realize that they have value.
Understanding story allowed Pixar to make one of the few sequels that measures up to the original. John Lasseter and the people at Pixar understand story as well as anyone. Study these films.
Look at Jaws again. Take a man afraid of the water, subject him to the ritual pain of doing battle with a shark, and that pain transforms him. Cures him.
James Cameron took what could have been a little B-movie and made Terminator into a surprise box office hit. He put Linda Hamilton's character, Sarah Connor, through the ritual pain of being hunted down and nearly killed. In the end she is transformed into a woman who knows that her life matters. She has also been hardened by the experience and seems less girlish. Grown up.
In Terminator 2: Judgment Day, Sarah Connor becomes the terminator. It is she who tries to kill a man for something he will do in the future. Through ritual pain she realizes that she has become the very thing she hates.
In Aliens, Cameron had Sigourney Weaver's character, Ripley, plagued by nightmares of the creature she had survived in the first film in the Alien series. Through the ritual pain of battling these creatures again, she purges herself of these nightmares and takes back her life.
Billy Wilder understood the power of character change so well that when the American Film Institute listed the top one hundred films of all time, four were his.
In Sunset Boulevard, Wilder had character Joe Gillis, an out-of-work Hollywood screenwriter, sell out for a little security and become the kept man of an older ex-movie star. He becomes her pet. In fact, when they first meet, the pet chimp of the has-been star has just died. It is no mistake that following this Joe Gillis moves into the woman's home. At one point in the film she dresses Joe in a tux—sometimes called a monkey suit. Through the ritual pain of being a kept man Joe Gillis learns that having a swimming pool isn't worth selling out his principles.
This idea of selling out shows up again and again in other Wilder films. In The Apartment, Jack Lemmon plays a man who, to climb the corporate ladder, lends his apartment to adulterous executives at the insurance company where he works. Sometimes this means not getting into his own apartment and having to sleep in the park. He, of course, learns to stand up for himself.
Also in The Apartment, Shirley MacLaine plays a woman who is having an affair with one of the aforementioned executives. This idea of selling out, or prostituting oneself, hits hard when the executive, not having time to buy a Christmas present for his mistress, hands Shirley a hundred dollar bill as a gift. It is through the ritual pain of being made to feel cheap that Shirley learns to respect herself enough to be with a man who will commit to her fully.
The Apartment has two characters who change, but they both learn essentially the same lesson. They are clones of one another.
Because change is never easy, and is resisted, it is your job as storyteller to apply as much pressure on your characters as possible. You must back them into a corner and force them to change. Make it as painful as you can. Bring them to the brink of physical or emotional death if you possibly can. Your protagonists will be measured by the size of their struggle, so don't pull any punches.
Those who believe in reincarnation believe that we die and are reborn until we learn whatever we were sent to learn in life. When we finally attain wisdom, we ascend to a higher plane of existence. We are rewarded.
You don't need to believe in reincarnation to see this idea played out. Many of us know people who repeat the same mistakes over and over in their lives. They might, for instance, keep dating people who disrespect them. Until they realize that they bring this on themselves, they will never be happy. They will never get their reward.
Groundhog Day is a great example of this concept in story form. Bill Murray is, in a sense, reborn every day. At one point he even tries to kill himself to get out of this cycle, but it doesn't work. It is only when he starts to focus on things outside of himself,
A character always knows what he wants, but hardly ever what he needs. In the end, the character usually gets close to what he wants and chooses the need instead. For example, in Casablanca, Bogart gets the girl—the very thing he's wanted through the entire story. But he tells her to go with her husband. His need is to get over Ingrid Bergman. When he is holding tightly to his want he is a bitter, selfish man. He even says, "I stick my neck out for no one." In the end, he risks his neck to assure that the woman he loves can leave with her husband. We know he is a better person. He has grown. He has ascended.
In The Apartment, Jack Lemmon gets the promotion he's been after from the beginning of the story. But he is done compromising his self-respect, and turns down the job. He has ascended. This act helps him get his real reward, the woman he loves.
In E.T., Elliot wants his friend to stay with him, but helps him get home. He puts the needs of his friend ahead of his own desires. It is painful for him, but it is the right thing to do. Elliot ascends to a better place through suffering ritual pain.
Most viewers of E.T. are unaware that they are watching the transformation of a character from a selfish child to a caring human being, but they do feel it.
Ritual pain means painfully killing off one aspect of a character's personality to make room for something new.
Character transformation and growth are some of the most powerful forms of invisible ink, and you would do well to include them in your work.
Personal hell exercise
This exercise is to show you how to come up with the type of ritual pain appropriate for your character.
In Greek mythology, Persephone, daughter of Zeus and Demeter, was abducted by Hades and taken to the underworld, the realm of the dead.
I was just reading this story and realized that all characters of change take a journey to the underworld. Characters must confront the very thing they would least like to, and confronting this thing is a kind of hell. More precisely, it is their own personal hell. But through this confrontation, they are transformed.
Let's revisit our friend, King Midas. If all the king wants is gold, then as a storyteller creating that story, one would have to find a way to put Midas in hell, to take him to the underworld. The storyteller granted the King his wish that everything Midas touched turned to gold. It wasn't long before King Midas realized that this blessing was a
curse when he changed his beloved daughter into gold. Midas learns that some things are more precious than gold. A trip to one's personal hell changes one.
In the movie Jaws, a man is deathly afraid of the water, so where do you suppose his personal hell is? In the middle of the ocean where a vicious shark swims about, that's where.
"Snakes. Why did it have to be snakes?" says Indiana Jones in Raiders of the Lost Ark, when he finds he must descend into a pit of the slithering reptiles. But we know why it had to be snakes—it's because as we find out early on in the film, Indiana Jones hates snakes. To get the prize he seeks, he must take a trip to the underworld, to his own personal hell.
In the classic film It's a Wonderful Life, George Bailey wishes he had never been born. In his personal hell, he is granted the chance to see what the world would be like without him, and it's not a pretty place.
In Alfred Hitchcock's Shadow of a Doubt, a young woman wishes she had more excitement in her life. She gets more excitement when her
favorite uncle comes to town and turns out to be a murderer.
In The Wizard of Oz, Dorothy wants to run away from home, so a twister takes her far away. And, of course, all she wants is to get back home, because she is in her personal hell.
In Finding Nemo, the father desperately tries to keep his son safe by never letting him out of his sight, and keeping him close to home. What happens? His son is taken away into the ocean. This is the father's personal hell.
"Of all the gin joints in all the world she had to walk into mine," goes Bogart's famous line from the film Casablanca. He says this because the woman he was in love with, and wants to forget, has just come into his world. This is his personal hell.
This is one of the simplest ways to apply invisible ink to your work, but it will yield powerful results. It is a simple way to find out what your story needs to be about. Find that thing that your character would rather die than do and make them do it.
Here is an exercise. Write down the personal hell for the characters provided below. There is no right answer, just make sure the characters go to that place, or do that thing they would least like.
Example: A rich man wants nothing more than to acquire more money.
Personal hell: He finds himself penniless.
Example: A girl wants to run away from home.
Personal hell: She gets her wish and wants nothing more than to get home.
Your turn:
Character: A vain woman cares about nothing but her looks.
Personal hell: ______________________________________
Character: A woman hates people and wants to spend all of her time alone.
Personal hell: ______________________________________
Character: A man wants fame more than anything.
Personal hell: ______________________________________
Character: A man won't let go of the past and move on with his life.
Personal hell: _______________________________________
Character: A man has spent his life as an assassin.
Personal hell: ________________________________________ Character: A woman is so into cleanliness that she won't even let people into her home.
Personal hell: ________________________________________
Character: A man is a lying womanizer.
Personal hell: ________________________________________
Character: A woman dates only very wealthy men.
Personal hell: ________________________________________
Character: A man wants to spend his life traveling the world.
Personal hell: ________________________________________
Character: An honest cop.
Personal hell: ________________________________________
Character: An inventor believes his technology to be infallible.
Personal hell: ________________________________________
Character: A spoiled child.
Personal hell: ________________________________________
The crucifixion
What we do for ourselves dies with us. What we do for others is immortal.
—Albert Pine
Sacrifice is an important part of what makes a protagonist a hero. Few of us have much respect for someone who has had things too easy. We admire struggle and sacrifice.
I remember hearing a story about a man in a Nazi death camp who volunteered to take the place of another man who was slated to be killed. The first man had a family and begged the Nazis to spare him. The second man had no family and so sacrificed himself for the first man and his family. Few of us would do such a thing, though we all wish we would. That's what makes a hero—someone who puts the needs of others before his own.
George Bailey, in It's a Wonderful Life, spends his entire life sacrificing for others. We see him as a heroic figure because of that self-sacrifice.
You might think that this is visible ink, but readers and audiences are unaware of its use when it is applied skillfully.
Look at the story of the crucifixion. Jesus is suffering on the cross. It's important that this aspect of the story be relayed to us. Remember that this is the Son of God, here; he can work miracles. So we might very well wonder if he suffered at all up there. His crown of thorns, his having to carry his own cross, his stab wound, are all necessary details of the narrative.
Jesus even says, "Father, why have you forsaken me?" It is important for us to know that he was not, through some miracle, spared the pain of the crucifixion. The story's power lies in the idea that he suffered just as you or I would have. Like all great heroes, Jesus' suffering is for others.
And then, of course, what happens to Jesus? He rises from the grave. He ascends to heaven. He is rewarded for his pain.
According to Norse mythology, the king of the gods, Odin, gave
up one of his eyes and was speared to a tree for nine days in order to gain wisdom. Attaining wisdom is never easy.
In The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, Huck isn't sure if he should turn in Jim, the runaway slave. His world tells him it is a sin not to do so. But Huck has come to know and care for Jim and to see him as a human being.
At the end of the book, Huck decides that he'd rather sin than turn in his friend.
"I'll go to hell then," he says. He believes he will be punished forever for helping his friend. This is a pretty big sacrifice.
We even respect small sacrifices. One of my best friends is always willing to admit when he's wrong. He owns up to it quicker than anyone I've ever met. Not just with small things, either. How many of us are so willing to admit our mistakes and shortcomings? I'm not saying that my friend is a hero, but there is a certain amount of courage involved in being the type of person that he is. He leaves himself vulnerable emotionally, and emotional pain can be just as damaging as physical pain, sometimes more.
In Terminator 2, the robot from the future sacrifices himself for the good of humanity. This once-murderous machine is now a hero.
All characters of change have, at least, an emotional death that allows them to be resurrected anew.
Apply enough pressure and heat to change a lump of coal into a diamond.
From butterfly to caterpillar
If once you start down the dark path, forever will it dominate your destiny.
—Yoda, The Empire Strikes Back
Characters don't always change for the better. Some stories are about how people are corrupted—how angels fall.
In The Godfather, Michael Corleone starts off as a virtuous man—a war hero, no less. When he tells his fiancée, Kay, about his family's criminal behavior, he tells her, "That's my family, Kay, not me." He is above all of this.
What is the ritual pain that begins his change? His father is shot. Michael may not approve of his family's business, but he does care for them.
His change is slow at first. First, he protects his father while the men who shot him try to finish him off. As an audience we can understand that. Who wouldn't protect someone they love from killers?
Then Michael decides he wants to kill the men who shot his father. When he does kill them, it is not justice, it is revenge. Michael's father was not killed, only wounded.
That might not make much difference in some story realities, but it does in this one. We know that because in the opening scene Michael's own father tells us so. He defines the difference between justice and revenge when a man comes to him asking him to kill the two men who nearly raped his daughter.
BONASERA
What do you want of me? I'll give you anything you want, but do what I ask!
DON CORLEONE
And what is that Bonasera?
BONASERA
(whispers into the DON's ear.)
DON CORLEONE
No. You ask for too much.
BONASERA
I ask for justice.
DON CORLEONE
The Court gave you justice.
BONASERA
An eye for an eye!
DON CORLEONE
But your daughter is still alive.
So as an audience we know when Michael has crossed onto the "dark path." And we have seen how someone can be seduced into this world. The angel has fallen.
Because the scene with Don Corleone and Bonasera is the first scene in the film, it becomes invisible ink. The audience has no idea that this scene will help them understand the rest of the film. Like all forms of invisible ink, it works on a subconscious level.
Flip-flops
When I say flip-flops I don't mean shoes. Flip-flops is the name that I give characters who are opposites, but exchange character traits.
Oscar and Felix of Neil Simon's play The Odd Couple are probably the most famous flip-flops. One is clean and prissy while the other is sloppy and gruff. Their marriages have broken up and they are thrown together as roommates. They are extreme opposites, which offers the best opportunity for conflict and, therefore, comedy. Their ritual pain is having to live with one another.
By the end of the story we have seen why both of their marriages failed. This pairing is a replay, or a clone, of each of their marriages. But it has also changed both characters. Both are a little more aware of their respective faults. They could each stand to be a little bit like the other.
In fact, the last messy thing Oscar does is tell his poker guests to watch their cigarette ashes. He says, " This is my house, not a pigsty." This is a huge change from the Oscar at the opening of the play.
Another classic example is The African Queen. In that film, Humphrey Bogart plays a crusty, hard-drinking boat captain, while Katharine Hepburn plays his flip-flop. She is a stuffy religious matron who detests vulgar vices such as demon rum. These two share little in common except the small boat they are trapped on together.
Through the ritual pain of having to make their way down a treacherous river together, they both become fuller people. Each has something the other is lacking, and by exchanging traits they become whole.
Sometimes only one of the characters needs to change and the other is the catalyst for that change, such as in Beauty and the Beast. When the Beast changes enough on the inside to earn the love of a woman, he changes on the outside from a beast to a handsome man. The change is only an external manifestation of what is going on internally.
Shrek turns this idea on its green funnel-shaped ear, but it is still the same story. Shrek is completely comfortable with who he is; it is the Princess who must change.
Characters who don't change
Do characters always need to change? No, they don't. But you always have to remember what your armature is and why you are telling the story. Let that make the decision for you. What is the best way to dramatize your point?
This is not exactly the story of an individual who doesn't change, but it illustrates my point quite well, I think: When I was a kid, I learned a lot about story structure by watching old reruns of Rod Serling's The Twilight Zone. There is one episode called "It's a Good Life." In it, an evil five-year-old boy, who has the power to read minds and do just about anything else, has the small farm town of Peaksville, Ohio, held captive. For all intents and purposes, the rest of the world has ceased to exist.
The few people left in the town walk on eggshells so as not to suffer the boy's wrath. They are all miserable, but they try only to say good things and think good thoughts. The boy might hear their bad thoughts, were they to have them, and kill them in some cruel fashion, like setting them on fire, or worse. He even kills a couple of "clone" animals so that we, the audience, get an idea of his power. Even the boy's parents live in fear.
One night, there is a birthday gathering for one of the townsfolk at the house of the boy. The guest of honor receives a few gifts from what can be scrounged up by his friends. The town is running low on food and other provisions and luxuries, but the boy neglects to replenish them.
The boy likes music but hates singing, and one of the gifts received by the man having the birthday is a record of his favorite singer. He wants desperately to play it, but the others warn against it. Upset, he starts in on another gift, a bottle of rye whiskey. He gets drunk and starts to complain out loud for all to hear.
The other adults are in a panic—they try to distract the boy and calm the man down, but he's having none of it. Surprisingly, the boy ignores the man's drunken rant. But the man just gets louder and more obnoxious. (We, the audience, know something bad will happen, but the storytellers drag this scene out an agonizingly long time. They understood
that promising conflict was a powerful form of invisible ink.)
In a final act of defiance, the man tries to get his fellow captives to join him in a rousing chorus of "Happy Birthday." The boy loses his patience and glowers at the man.
The man's song is directed right at the boy and it becomes clear that this is a kind of suicide. When it is clear that all the boy's attention is on him, the man tries to get someone to come up behind the boy and kill him. He begs them to take the risk. Sure, they might be killed, but if they were to succeed all of this misery would be over.
The people do nothing. The boy kills the man in a rather grotesque manner.
With that, the boy's father notices that his son is making it snow outside. He loses his temper because the snow will ruin the crops. He begins to yell at the boy, but catches himself and tells the boy that it's good that he's making it snow.
The end.
This story is more about a situation that remains the same rather than one character, but you get the idea.
What is the armature of this story, do you think? It tells us that no one has any power over us that we don't give to them. It is better to challenge oppression and die than to live under its thumb. Gandhi brought down the British Empire by simply not acknowledging their power in his country. That's it.
The drunken man in this piece becomes the hero. He made a sacrifice hoping that it would help those left behind. The others are seen as cowards.
So how did the storytellers get away with not changing things? For one thing, it was the best way to make the point. And for another, we saw where things could have changed but didn't. If only they had stood up to the boy—to their oppressor. The fork in the road that let the audience know what could happen is a kind of invisible ink.
The ending with the snow is important because we see that things are going to continue to be the same—"and ever since that day."
Killing the protagonist
A man who has nothing he would die for isn't fit to live.
—Martin Luther King, Jr.
If you can have your protagonist make the ultimate sacrifice, that's great. But make sure they finish their story first. What I mean is, if you kill the character in the middle of their journey, it isn't satisfying.
One of the most famous protagonist deaths is that of Janet Leigh in Psycho. I've heard much talk about how shocking that death was to people at the time, and how it was so groundbreaking. I'm sure it was, but Mr. Hitchcock and screenwriter Joseph Stefano still played by the rules. Janet Leigh's character was done with her story.
In Psycho, Janet Leigh plays a woman, Marion Crane, who steals money from her boss. She skips town and winds up at the Bates Motel where she meets Norman. Norman makes them sandwiches that they eat in a back room of the motel. There they have this conversation about Norman's situation with his "mother."
MARION
Why don't you go away?
NORMAN
To a private island, like you?
MARION
No, not like me.
NORMAN
I couldn't do that. Who'd look after her? She'd be alone up there. The fire would go out. It'd be cold and damp like a grave. If you love someone, you don't do that
to them even if you hate them. You understand that I don't hate her—I hate what she's become. I hate the illness.
MARION
Wouldn't it be better—if you put her—someplace—?
Norman's demeanor darkens. He leans forward.
NORMAN
You mean an institution? A madhouse! People always call a madhouse 'someplace,' don't they. 'Put her in—someplace.'
MARION
I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean it to sound uncaring.
NORMAN
What do you know about caring. Have you ever seen the inside of one of those places? The laughing and the tears—and the cruel eyes studying you. My mother there! But she's harmless! Wh—she's as harmless as one of those stuffed birds!
MARION
I am sorry. I only felt—it seems she's hurting you. I meant well.
Marion is more than a little spooked by his personality transformation.
NORMAN
People always mean well! They cluck their thick tongues and shake their heads and suggest, oh so very delicately—! (He sits back. The storm is over. Gently:) Of course, I’ve suggested it myself. But I hate to even think about it. She needs me. It—it’s not as if she were a—a maniac—a raving thing. She just goes a little mad sometimes. We all go a little mad sometimes. Haven’t you?
MARION
(her concern relaxed)
Yes. Sometimes just one time can be enough. Thank you.
NORMAN
'Thank you, Norman.'
MARION
Norman.
NORMAN
Oh, you're not—you're not going back to your room already?
MARION
I'm very tired. And I have a long drive tomorrow—all the way back to Phoenix.
NORMAN
Really?
MARION
I stepped into a private trap back there and I'd like to go back and try to pull myself out of it before it's too late for me to.
She stands to go.
At the end of this scene, Marion has decided to give back the money. She is better now, so although we may be shocked that she is killed, we do not feel cheated.
Thelma, in Thelma and Louise, takes on some of the traits of Louise and becomes a stronger person. Her thematic journey is over and it is okay if she dies. We may be sad, but again, we do not feel cheated.
Billy Wilder killed a few protagonists in his day. In Sunset Boulevard, Joe Gillis is killed off at the end, after he has made his transformation for the better. Few people have written a script as well-constructed as Sunset Boulevard—with, of course, the exception of Wilder himself.
In Ace in the Hole (aka The Big Carnival), Kirk Douglas plays a down-and-out reporter who finds a way to keep a man trapped in a cave in order to milk the story for as long as he can. He wants to be back on top again. He wants a Pulitzer Prize.
The reporter convinces others to go along with his plan, all for their own selfish reasons, including the engineer in charge of digging the man out. Eventually the man takes ill and it becomes clear he will die. This starts to change the reporter, he starts to feel guilty about what he's done, and now there is no time to get the man out.
The reporter ends up being stabbed in the belly (you'll have to see the film to see how). Instead of tending to his own wounds, he rushes to a church to get a priest to give the trapped man his last rites before he dies. He also confesses to what he's done, before he himself dies.
By not tending to his own wounds he sacrificed his own life so that the other man could have his last rites. We know that the reporter was a better human being when he died than he was at the story's start.
What about Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid? After all, they don't get better before they die. That is true, they don't. But there is that fork in the road where they could go straight. They even try it, but it's not for them.
Before the escape to Bolivia, they are pursued by a super-posse that is almost supernatural. This could easily be seen as Death pursuing them. If they don't change their ways eventually, Death will catch up to them. They refuse to change with the times and choose to go out in
a blaze of glory. As with the episode of The Twilight Zone mentioned before, it is important to see that there was another road that was not taken.
