Classical Storytelling and Contemporary Screenwriting

Aristotle and the Modern Scriptwriter

Brian Price

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2017
• ISBN:
  9781351373234
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Medien & darstellende Kunst
• Subtopic: Film & Video

Since we first arrived on the planet, we've been telling each other stories, whether of that morning's great saber-tooth tiger hunt or the latest installment of the Star Wars saga. And throughout our history, despite differences of geography or culture, we've been telling those stories in essentially the same way. Why?

Because there is a RIGHT way to tell a story, one built into our very DNA.

In his seminal work Poetics, Aristotle identified the patterns and recurring elements that existed in the successful dramas of his time as he explored precisely why we tell stories, what makes a good one, and how to best tell them.

In Classical Storytelling and Contemporary Screenwriting, Brian Price examines Aristotle's conclusions in an entertaining and accessible way and then applies those guiding principles to the most modern of storytelling mediums, going from idea to story to structure to outline to final pages and beyond, covering every relevant screenwriting topic along the way.

The result is a fresh new approach to the craft of screenwriting—one that's only been around a scant 2, 500 years or so—ideal for students and aspiring screenwriters who want a comprehensive step-by-step guide to writing a successful screenplay the way the pros do it.

Section III
A Middle

(Wherein we discuss PLOT, STRUCTURE, and CHARACTER, and flesh out the shape of our STORY)

Eleven
Plot

Let’s Stay Connected

“Of all plots and actions, the episodic are the worst. I call a plot ‘episodic’ in which the episodes or acts succeed one another without probable or necessary sequence.”

(Poetics, Part IX)

I’m often faced with students who are terrified of discussing their story ideas in class. They’ve heard horror stories about writers being ripped off, brilliant ideas getting stolen.

To them, I tell the same story that was told to me by screenwriting guru Professor Richard Walter to put my own mind at ease. Paraphrased and adjusted for inflation.

The painting The Card Players by Paul Cezanne recently sold to the nation of Qatar for close to 300 million dollars. Pretty impressive. But just imagine that back in the 19th century, when Cezanne was toiling away, some kibitzer had come up to him and said, “Hey, Paulie, I got a great idea for a painting. Poker!”

Now, just imagine that same gentleman showing up today and demanding his cut of those millions since it had, after all, been his idea.

Such a thing would be ludicrous, of course. Why? Because the idea was relatively insignificant. It may have started the endeavor, may have sparked the artist’s imagination, but what truly mattered was the execution of that idea, the choices of color and brushstroke, the actual labor that went into making that idea a reality.

And just as with Cezanne, the screenwriter gives value to that initial idea by crafting it into something tangible. The idea may be the genesis for all that follows, but ultimately, it’s a trivial part of the process. What matters is how that idea is expanded into a PLOT, the choice and arrangement of events necessary to execute that idea.

So in our analogy, think of the episodes of the story as the painting’s colors and brushstrokes, and their order, its shape and form.

Still another concern that often arises in class is when a student responds to another’s premise by saying, “Aw, I’ve seen that idea already.” To that I always respond, of course you have. I’m beginning to doubt there even IS such a thing as an original idea that hasn’t been done countless times before.

Thankfully, it doesn’t matter in the slightest.

There may be thousands of paintings of roses, but only one that looks like Salvador Dali’s.

Similarly, no matter how many times a particular premise has been executed before, yours will be distinct because it comes from your unique passion and experience and voice. It’s not ultimately about what you write, but how you write it. Because again, it is the PLOT that you spin from that initial idea, the choices and details of the actual labor of writing, that matter.

And if you still don’t believe me, take the case of that movie that I love—yikes, what is the title of it—about the farmer who becomes a warrior. Damn, it’s on the tip of my tongue. Oh yeah, Braveheart!

No, wait, not Braveheart, but… come on, you know the one. He’s working on the farm at the beginning, living with his family. And then they are all cruelly wiped out, and he has to take up arms against the government for a greater cause. Oh yeah, Gladiator!

No, wait, The Patriot.

No, no, I’m thinking of The Outlaw Josie Wales.

No, I got it. It’s Star Wars.

My point? All those movies have the same basic premise: A simple farmer loses his family to violence, seeks revenge, then ultimately emerges as a leader, hero of a rebellion, warrior for a greater cause.

Yet no one is going to mistake one of these movies for the other. They are all completely different, despite the similarities in premise, since again, what matters is the execution of the idea, not the idea itself.

Because when you really think about it, all stories are built upon the same basic premise. As we shall see shortly, ALL STORIES ARE ABOUT IDENTITY. Or more specifically, they are all about a character who starts off one way, then ends up another. The King who becomes a blind exile. The moisture farmer who becomes a Jedi. The construction worker who becomes the savior of his Lego brethren.

It is how we tell that story that makes our screenplay unique.

And the how of our story is its PLOT.

So what does Aristotle have to say about plot?

Well, he starts off by distinguishing between three different types of plot. The EPISODIC, the SIMPLE, and the COMPLEX.

Let’s deal with, then hopefully banish forever, the first type.

As the quote at the top of the chapter indicates, a plot is EPISODIC if its events are not connected, but simply consecutive. This happens and then this happens and then this happens. One event does not cause or affect the next; they merely follow a chronology with no other connective thread.

It’s a horrible plot since it really is no plot at all, just a collection of individual episodes, a slideshow of your neighbor’s summer vacation. Here’s where he went parasailing. Here’s where a jellyfish stung him. Here’s where he met a cute girl at the bar. Each episode might be entertaining in and of itself, but without a dramatic through-line connecting them, they don’t add up to a coherent story.

Recall how we made the point earlier that movies are not life, that there is a difference between drama and history. Aristotle says that the former deals with the universal, the latter with the particular. But there is a fundamental structural difference between life and movies as well.

For Aristotle, history is made up of events that FOLLOW one another. Dramatic narrative, on the other hand, is made up of events that CAUSE one another.

This is because life is episodic, a timeline of unconnected experiences. But in a story, something of a higher order than a mere history, there must exist a cause-and-effect between all actions, and it is that connection that is essential for a good plot.

And which makes for Aristotle’s Guiding Precept #7:

IN A WELL - CONSTRUCTED PLOT, EVERY EVENT IS CAUSED OR AFFECTED BY WHAT PRECEDES IT AND CAUSES OR AFFECTS WHAT FOLLOWS, ACCORDING TO THE LAWS OF NECESSITY AND PROBABILITY.

That final clause is so vital to this precept that Aristotle stresses it repeatedly. The causal connection between incidents may be surprising, but it must always be believable and reasonable, based upon our understanding of the way the universe operates, how it functions for all of us.

So in a good plot, a non-episodic plot, something happens, and it is then followed by something that PROBABLY or NECESSARILY would ensue as a natural result. In this way, the story remains relatable, because even if the characters and events are far outside our actual lives, they still abide by the patterns, expectations, and observations of our own experience.

Remember that slideshow of your neighbor’s vacation? With a few adjustments, it could become this: Trying to get over the heartache of a breakup, my neighbor went parasailing. Preoccupied with grief, he wasn’t paying attention so his line got tangled and he fell into the ocean where he was stung by a jellyfish. When he went to the infirmary for his wounds, he met a cute nurse and, for the first time in months, completely forgot his ex.

In this example, each event either causes or affects the next in some way, connecting them all through CONSEQUENCE. Doesn’t that make for a better, more cohesive story than the mere slideshow of disjointed events? Without that cause-and-effect, a plot is episodic. And that, according to Aristotle should be avoided at all costs.

I should note that an episodic structure is one of the most common problems I encounter with beginning writers. For their stories, they hope to merely string along a series of interesting events, often because (GULP) that’s the way it happened.

They soon discover, as Aristotle warns, that an episodic plot is the absence of plot, just a compilation of isolated vignettes. And no matter how solid those individual moments may be, the story invariably fails to hold together because it lacks that required connectivity that pulls us through, the dramatic thread that keeps the story whole, complete, and unified.

So don’t make your plot episodic. Okay? Good.

And now that we’ve agreed to connect the events of our story by the laws of probability and necessity, a logical question arises.

What exactly are these events we’re connecting?

Good question. And lucky for us, Aristotle has some things to say about them and about the two flavors in which those story events most often come.

Twelve
Reversals and Recognitions

Pieces of the Action

“The most powerful elements of emotional interest in Tragedy—Reversal of the Situation, and Recognition scenes—are parts of the plot.”

(Poetics, Part VI)

In his discussion of the importance of PLOT over other elements of drama, Aristotle observes that what makes a plot emotionally resonant, the ultimate outcome we are always seeking, is that it is made up of two powerful ingredients, REVERSALS and RECOGNITIONS.

Let’s take them one at a time, though they often come hand in hand. Aristotle says:

“A reversal is a change by which the action veers round to its opposite, subject always to our rules of probability or necessity.”

(Poetics, Part XI)

In other words, a character is traveling down a certain path, something happens, and suddenly they find themselves on a very different path. The something that happened was the REVERSAL.

He uses Sophocles’ Oedipus Rex, what he considers a perfect plot, as an example. Oedipus is the King of Thebes, much loved, powerful, and happy, having escaped the Oracle’s dire prophecy that he would kill his father and marry his mother by fleeing his native Corinth years before.

Then in one moment, when the Shepherd arrives and confesses to having once spared the life of a Theban baby and giving it to a Corinthian to raise, the trajectory of Oedipus’ life changes drastically. He becomes an outcast, shunned, exiled, bereft, and blind, a victim of the very fate he had tried to avoid.

The action “veered round to its opposite” as a result of the Shepherd’s arrival. So that event constituted a reversal.

RECOGNITION, sometimes translated as revelation, Aristotle defines as:

“A change from ignorance to knowledge.”

(Poetics, Part XI)

He relates this concept specifically to the recognition of a person, as in the moment when one character learns something crucial about another, or even about themselves.

In Oedipus Rex, after the Shepherd reveals his own actions, Oedipus RECOGNIZES the truth of King Laeus’ and his wife Jocasta’s identities, and once he recognizes who they are, he goes from ignorance to knowledge about who he is.

And upon the recognition that he is the cause of the plague that curses his country, the plot veers around from Oedipus trying to find Laeus’ murderer to Oedipus desperately trying to punish himself, a reversal. ...