The Case of The Station Agent; Do We Always Need a Concrete Goal?

I was once told in a screenwriting workshop in Cologne that characters must always have a visible, tangible goal, the more concrete the better. If she wants to win a contest, she wants to win a medal. If he wants his son back, he wants the custody papers. But what about stories where the character has no goal, such as the Station Agent? This post looks at how this film works without a concrete goal, and how instead of an aimless, wandering narrative, becomes a gripping, emotional drama.

Peter Dinklage, who plays Tyrion Lannister in HBO’s A Game of Thrones, got his first central role in the Station Agent in 2003, a film which focuses solely on the difficulties that being a dwarf has placed upon his character. Fin avoids all social situations, be it riding on the train or going to bars, and when we’re first introduced to his character in a day in the life sequence of him working at a toy store in the city, we gather he only has one friend in the world, Henry, and besides that, keeps himself to himself, and avoids reacting to the many japes people make at his expense. It’s a defence mechanism to keep the bad people out, but has instead distanced Fin from life’s good experiences.

This distancing is Fin’s weakness, his character flaw that needs to change for him to find happiness, and he has no intention of changing any time soon. Spoilers follow!

Henry dies suddenly of a heart attack and, in accordance with his will, the toy shop is closed and its stock liquidated. With noting left, except the inheritance of a small train depot in rural New Jersey, Fin walks (he doesn’t drive or take a train) all the way to his new property in the small town of Newfoundland. Fin could easily keep himself to himself in the city, but in this small, lonely community, Fin has to avoid the advances of two people desperate for his friendship.

To recap, we have this guy, Fin, a dwarf, who would rather walk many miles than take a crowded train, who tries his hardest to avoid Joe, who works the refreshment van right outside the train depot, and Olivia who has recently lost her son, and who, after accidentally running Fin down a few times, tries to apologise to him. Fin is avoiding things (albeit rather actively) rather than trying to get them, but this only works because of the active characters around him.

Olivia sees a bit of her son in Fin, and gradually she and Joe, through their constant advances, and their interest in Fins hobbies, in train watching, and train chasing (which Fin couldn’t do until they came along as he can’t drive) they become close friends.

As in Thomas McCarthy’s second film, The Visitor, around the middle of the film we see our passive hero become active. In the Visitor, Walter, a lonely businessman discovers two immigrants in his apartment, Tarek and Zainab, and lets them stay. He bonds with Tarek over a common interest in music (notice again an interesting hobby forming a bridge of friendship, but one that is central; the music is actually him grieving for his dead wife, as trains form the theme of distancing through how Fin walks the tracks, the right of way as he calls it, as opposed to travelling on trains).

Then, something happens. Tarek is arrested and Walter has to fight to get him released. In the Station Agent, the goal is less concrete, but it's still there. Olivia’s estranged husband comes to visit one morning whilst Fin and Joe are in the house, and after that she ignores them. Fin makes it his mission to get back her friendship. He gets hurt, and hurts others too, and this gives him the push he needed to come into the open and live; he gets drunk in a bar, stands on a bar stool and tells those making japes to take a long, hard look at him.

This film works because of the characters around the protagonist. Olivia has a problem which directly involves Fin (she admits, when Fin saves her from killing herself, that she wanted her son back and was distant from Fin as he reminded her of him), and allows Fin through no fault of his own to cause her hurt. She’s the hero of the film, and without her, Fin wouldn’t change. Joe is great too, because he is lonely and desperately wants a friend.

As drama works when someone wants something and has trouble getting it, a concrete goal lets this build easily, and lets us know if they pass or fail. But I think it’s possible for a film to work without a goal, as long as there are active characters to build conflict, the protagonist has a weakness, and is in a situation that encourages him to embrace his need.

The Station Agent, on IMDB, by Thomas McCarthy (2003)

The Visitor, on IMDB, by Thomas McCarthy (2007)

Here’s a link to The Visitor script. If anyone can find the script of the Station Agent let me know!

Witty Dialogue in Double Indemnity

Besides drafting a one page treatment for my new play, (which I realised is an ugly new-born baby) I’ve spent my spare time this week catching up on a few films. Firstly, Kiki’s Delivery Service from Studio Ghibli, a wonderfully uplifting story of a young witch coming of age when she trains away from home for a year to develop her powers. I highly recommend it. I also watched  Double Indemnity for the first time, and was really impressed with how the characters set up the story with only a few lines directly stating their intentions, creating dialogue with depth and intrigue. In this post I look at DI (okay yes a highly looked at film) but also talk about my experience of writing dialogue and how I’ve tried to improve it.

Alexander Mackendrick’s great film, the Sweet Smell of Success, is another example of great dialogue, and in his book, On Film-Making, Mackendrick says that dialogue works best when the emphasis isn’t on the words but the ‘real intentions and motivations of the characters.’ In this way, it might be better for a character to talk around what they want or mean to say, encouraging the audience to dig beneath the surface. 

The following extract is from the beginning of DI on the second visit that protagonist, Walter Neff, an avid insurance salesman, makes to client Phyllis Dietrichson, who is enquiring about accident insurance for her husband, but her dialogue creates the feeling that she's really talking about something else.

NEFF
Wait a minute. Why shouldn't he know?

PHYLLIS
Because I know he doesn't want accident insurance. He's superstitious about it.

NEFF
A lot of people are. Funny, isn't it?

And then a few lines later…

NEFF
Of course, it doesn't have to be a crown block. It can be a car backing over him, or he can fall out of an upstairs window. Any little thing like that, as long as it's a morgue job.

PHYLLIS
Are you crazy?

NEFF
Not that crazy. Goodbye, Mrs. Dietrichson.

PHYLLIS
What's the matter?

NEFF
Look, baby, you can't get away with it.

PHYLLIS
Get away with what?

NEFF
You want to knock him off, don't you, baby.

The dialogue is bouncy and witty mainly because we can tell something else is going on, and then we get that line at the end which acts as a dramatic full stop, a direct line to make her intentions crystal clear. Phyllis then visits Neff at his apartment to return his hat.

NEFF
How were you going to do it?

PHYLLIS
Do what?

NEFF
Kill him.

PHYLLIS
Walter, for the last time –

 “You want to knock him off,” and “Kill him,” are the only direct references in the entire set-up of the film. This scene is great because instead of saying, “you know how hard it’ll be,” he just reels off past examples where people have failed to fake a claim. She says how hard it is for her in her relationship, whilst still denying her intentions, and then finally, Neff, whose dialogue and voice-over has implied his desire for her, agrees to help.

NEFF
-- you're not going to hang, baby. Not ever. Because you're going to do it the smart way. Because I'm going to help you.

I can’t claim to have written anything nearly as exciting as that, but here’s an example of a line that came out very on the nose at first and had to be tweaked. It’s set in a diner where the protagonist, Steve, stops whilst on his way to a Native Indian Reservation, where he will discover lots of things he didn’t know about his recently deceased ex-wife, Justine. In this scene, he finds she became a great painter, and I thought it’d be cool to have someone make it clear these were painted by Justine and imply a few things about who she had become. 

WAITRESS
Yeah, by a real famous local artist. A saint of a woman. Sad story though. She died recently.

And later changed to…

WAITRESS
Yeah, Hounslow’s. We love ‘em. I saw her in Santa Fe. She’s a hippy volunteer type, but lovely though.

The first example was on the nose, as it heavily states, yes, we’re talking about your ex-wife who recently died, duh. The second is a bit more natural. It implies Santa Fe, a very arty place, and how wonderful (and different to Steve’s expectations) that Justine is.

It’s Justine, dead, but still looking beautiful. Steve studies her and notices a braid in her hair, turquoise earrings and a necklace, and native markings on her skin. Lisa takes Steve’s hand and squeezes.

Steve just stares at Justine’s body.

STEVE
She looks so...

LISA
Peaceful.

STEVE
Yeah. She looks peaceful.

That’s probably one of my favourite lines. I think it reveals Steve’s true reaction without actually saying it, though because of what we know about Steve, we understand what’s really going on.

Witty dialogue isn’t just people saying cool stuff all the time, like when Neff flirts with Phyllis (although this again is a fantastic example of talking around what you truly mean).

PHYLLIS
There's a speed limit in this state, Mr. Neff. Forty-Five miles an hour.

NEFF
How fast was I going, officer?

PHYLLIS
I'd say about ninety.

What it seems more about is having characters a little more indirect (remembering they are their own people, not just a device to get across the story), perhaps saying the opposite of what they truly mean whilst implying what they think. Mrs Dietrichson being concerned about her husband having accident insurance whilst her questions state otherwise, or Steve look like he’s about to say one thing, but says another. Doing this might draw an audience in by making them have to dig a little deeper beneath the surface, and it certainly does make for a more entertaining film.

Can you think of any more examples of films with witty dialogue, perhaps less well known ones than this? If you can (or disagree with my ranting), tell me in the comments section.

Read Double Indemnity script here

Check out Mackendrick's book, On Film-Making, here

Read the Sweet Smell of Success script here

When the Cool Character of Your Story Isn’t Your Hero

Sometimes you dream up an amazing character with a really gripping struggle, and then, as I’m sure as happened with the BBC’s latest zombie drama, In the Flesh, you realise they’re not your hero. This post analyses the first episode and looks at how to write a story about an interesting character through the eyes a character you might have overlooked.

Dominic Mitchell’s, In the Flesh, was developed after submission to the BBC Writer’s Room Northern Voices scheme. It became a three-part series, though I felt there needed to be a lot more episodes (unless there’s a season two?), but regardless, the first episode was bit of a gem. Spoilers follow, so if you like you can read the script here as it’s no longer on BBC iPlayer.

Episode one follows Kieren, a Partially Deceased Syndrome Sufferer (PDS), which basically means zombies walked the earth and were then treated with a special drug to restore brain function, controlling their rabid urges, and allowing them to reintegrate into society.

At least, that was the plan. Kieren is sent back to his home in Roarton, where, unlucky for him, the Human Volunteer Force (HVF) is determined to kill zombies, rabid or otherwise. Kieren is forced to hide in his bedroom for fear of his life. This is where Kieren’s sister, Jem, a metal loving teenage badass and respected member of the HVF, takes over the story.

Jem has a meeting with slightly crazed HFV leader, Bill, who states that he will kill any PDS zombie he finds, and as Jem’s family are planning Kieren’s arrival, we get a sense that she’s caught between the values of her HVF buddies and the love she once had for Kieren.

Jem’s goal isn’t very tangible, but she does interrogate Kieren for proof that he is her brother and not just a monster. I suppose she’d like him to be a monster, in a way, because then her HVF buddies were right and she can kill this monster and go back to life as normal.

There’s a fantastic moment when Kieren describes past events that only he could know, and Jem realises in a teary moment that he is her brother after all. Jem’s change is cemented in the climax where the HVF come to kill a PDS suffer on her street, and Jem stays at Kieren’s side with her gun loaded, ready to protect him at all costs, which proves her love for him.

It doesn’t end until the final twist (major spoiler) where Jem witnesses Bill kill a neighbour’s wife (a PDS sufferer) in cold blood, revealing they weren’t after Kieren after all. It is, however, a mirror to what could’ve happened to Kieren, and as we’ve just seen Jem ready to defend him, we know that when she sees Bill do this, she is thinking of him, and is the punch that switches her allegiance and ends the story. Jem changes from hating Kieren to loving him, and from supporting the HVF, to adamantly despising all they stand for.

It feels like it should be Kieren’s story, his struggle to survive when he goes home to possibly the worst place on earth for him to be, but once he goes into hiding, there isn't much else he can do. It’s a world change story, as now Kieren’s sister accepts him, and perhaps in time the rest of the world will too, but it isn’t Kieren driving the story. He does have his own struggle, the same as Jem, but is dealing with his own crisis of whether he is a man or a monster, and I think that’s what makes it work. Jem is the active character who discovers Kieren isn’t a monster, giving Kieren an insight into himself. “If Jem loves me, I can’t be a monster.”

If you have an interesting character you want to be the hero but seems passive, you could try and give them a goal, or follow In the Flesh, and pick another character whose struggle mirrors the interesting character, one that directly involves them, and allow this other character to become the hero and drive the story. Once this new hero has a revelation and changes, the interesting character might get a glimpse of change themselves, and the world might change to one where they can live, even if that change is a small as a sister’s love.

The World's Most Irritating Movie Baddies

Have you ever watched a film thinking it could really go some place, when a really annoying character comes on and you almost audibly boo them off the screen? Maybe it's just me, and as much as I love to watch a character do something really bad but still find myself drawn to them, I'd rather not spend a few hours with someone I'd like to punch in the nose. There are so many great baddies throughout movie history, and this article takes a look at why some work, and some really don't.

Read the full article on Yuppee Magazine.

Breakdown of The Polar Bears

I never thought I'd actually get excited over a short film created by Coca-Cola. That's right. Coca-Cola, the movie. It's based on the polar bears used in their advertising, but thankfully there's not a Coke bottle in sight. In fact, it's not half bad, and I found myself strangely moved by the end. I've always found animation to have really well-crafted stories, and this one's no different.




I wanted to find out how this little sucker got me so involved, and broke it down into my interpretation. You might recognize some of the headings from Blake Snyders, Save the Cat. I'm not Cat obsessed or anything, but do like using the headings to describe plot points. I'd love any comments, things I've missed, gotten wrong, or you could just call me a sap for being a little obsessed with this film. It's just advertising after all, or is it something new?

·        Hero and Central Character: Jack

o   Weakness: Aloof, unreliable

o   Want: To climb the ice tower

o   Need: For Daddy Bear and family to accept and understand him

·         Protagonist: Daddy Bear

o   Weakness; Rule-follower, strict, rigid

o   Want: To give an acceptance speech to become pack leader

o   Need: To be closer to his son, Jack

·         Sub-plot Character: Kia

o   Need: Independence, live a little, have some fun

·         Antagonist: Zuk

·         Ally: Mummy Bear

Ordinary World/Weakness

The Polar Bears opens by establishing Daddy Bear’s goal to give an acceptance speech to become pack leader. He emphasises how responsible and organised polar bears are, so that when Jack stumbles out of no-where and admits to having followed the wrong pack for hours, we understand he doesn’t fit in. This establishes Jack's need, to be understood by his dad, and shows us his weakness; he is an aloof and irresponsible bear who knows how to enjoy himself. Mummy bear states the theme when she advises Jack to be himself to gain his father’s respect.

Inciting Incident/Point of Attack

I’d say it already happened, that it’s the Dad’s speech (or at least when he was asked to give it), as this seems to be the central event the story hangs from. This is quite a big step for the family and I imagine has shaken things up, and now Jack is going to have to deal with being an aloof bear in a family of leader bears. This is why I think Daddy is the protagonist. Being made leader of the pack seems to be his goal, and he can achieve this by delivering a great speech to the other bears.

Break-into-two

The speech sets up the stakes for the story. Mummy suggests Jack look after Kia, and Daddy says he doesn’t want any surprises on this day, simple code for, let’s mess it up any which way we can. We also have a double-cross, as mummy tells Zuk to watch Jack and make sure he doesn’t mess up. This sets up a central task for Jack, but it is not a goal; this is attributed to Daddy bear. I think Jack is the hero, as he later helps Daddy bear change, and is perhaps why he doesn’t have a concrete goal. Two female bears also set-up the dislike of puffins, are apprehensive to Jack, but seem to love Zuk.

Fun and Games

So it sort of feels that now we’re in the second act, as Daddy is off giving his speech whilst Jack is expected to look after his little sister. We do, however, get a second sort of break-into-two beat when Jack listens to his father’s speech and is inspired by the phrase, “scale new heights,” to literally want to scale an ice-tower that just happens to loom over the speech, sending our expectations wild.

I think this could be called plot point one, if you will, as this is the point when Jack begins his quest that winds up getting him in trouble. We set-up the story, and now it’s about to kick-start. This could be seen as a way to give a goal to our hero and central character. He wants to climb the tower in order to gain his father’s respect, taking action to achieve his need, not a material want. Again, Daddy Bear fits the traditional protagonist shape of wanting a material goal, the speech to become leader, and must later sacrifice this for a spiritual need, to be closer to his son.

B-Story

This is also the point when a second story, the B-story, is created. Jack leaves Kia on her own to scale the tower, which is understandable, as he’s an aloof, irresponsible bear. Zuk follows his mother’s instructions and sets off to stop Jack, leaving Kia to the temptation of the puffins. It’s quite nice that Kia has her own problems. We understand that she’s looking for a bit of independence and fun, and is fed up of being baby-sat all the time. Off she goes with the puffins, leaving us to wonder what dangers this little adventure might get her into, especially as they are not socially acceptable. It’s a nice mirror to Jack’s story, as he also isn’t accepted by society, and this later helps resolve the story.

Mid-point

Jack reaches the top of the ice-tower and literally is on-top of the world. This is certainly a quest to achieve his need, as he asks Zuk, who comes to stop him, if he thinks Dad would name the tower after him if he were the first one to slide down it. Jack pushes Zuk and follows after, immediately raising the stakes as we cut between the incoming bears and the father’s acceptance speech.

All is lost

Jack and Zuk gate-crash the acceptance speech and do just what Daddy Bear feared Jack would do. It gets worse when they discover that as a result of their little quest, that Kia has been lured into a silly dance with the puffins. The crowd start to gossip and it looks like Jack is in a whirlwind of trouble.

Break-into-three

But, perhaps listening to his mother’s advice from earlier (you could almost imagine a tacky flashback scene or voice-over) Jack dives into the pool and joins in with the dance. Daddy Bear is now faced with the dilemma of how to fix this little struggle. Does he disband his son and side with the pack, or does he damn the rules and join his son?

Climax

Daddy stands on his hind legs and brings a stop to the chaos. We’re not sure for a moment what he’s going to do, but then he dives on in, and after another beat of indecision, joins in with the dance. This is the point where Daddy chooses to abandon his want. We’re still not sure by the end of the film if Daddy will still be leader after his little stunt, but we do know he’ll be closer to his son. It sort of feels like a world change film, as the central character doesn’t change, but the world does to accommodate him. It is, however, quite standard, as Daddy Bear, our protagonist, has definitely changed.

New Equilibrium

The whole family join in the dance in the pool, with Mummy literally turning against the pack after a snide comment about her family. We then see the two females from earlier, who now seem to be in love with Jack for being himself. This is a little over the top, a bit like spoon feeding us the theme. “We get it already!” I want to scream, as we’ve already seen this in action, and don’t need it again.

So what can we get from this short film? The key thing for me is seeing a story work with several characters in conflict. In his book, On Film-Making, Alexander Mackendrick talks about characters in a web of conflict as opposed to a single main character with lots of side characters. Jack is the central character and hero, I’d say, as it’s him who saves the day and helps his father change, but without the conflicts from the characters around him, I’m not sure the story would work as smoothly. It’s nice to have a hierarchy. Zuk is above Jack when he attempts to stop him, working on higher orders from Mummy, but is still below Daddy, and it’s fun when he gets in equal trouble later.

I also like seeing the function of the B-story so clearly. At the end of the second act, the B-story and the A-story converge, and both are connected. Kia is dancing with puffins as a result of Jack climbing the ice tower. It’s also a mirror to Jack, as now Kia is being viewed as a misunderstood outcast breaking the taboos of society. The B-story is also what helps resolve the A-story. Jack is able to side with Kia, saving her from humiliation, and giving Daddy a choice to either side with society or his family. Instead of viewing this as a main story and a subplot, we can view it as two very important strands of the same story, which come together at the end to resolve each other. Without the B-story, Jack would simply be in a lot of trouble. It would probably make a good opening to a feature film. It seems that the B-story makes the difference between a fun scene and a complete story.

You could view the two stories like this;

A.      An aloof bear climbs an ice tower to gain his dad’s respect during the middle of his important acceptance speech.

B.      A bored younger-sibling is left alone when her brother goes to bring his aloof sibling in line, and is lured into a silly dance with outcast puffins.

Notice how the A story sounds a bit like a premise.

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