Save the Cat! (8 page)

even we Lilliputians can identify. Born into a world he did not create, the Superhero must deal with those who are jealous of his unique point of view and superior mind. And from time to time we all feel this way. Anybody who's ever been shot down at the PTA or sneered at for bold thinking in a meeting at work can identify with Frankenstein's monster being chased by an angry mob of mouth-breathers with pitchforks and torches.

The problem of how to have sympathy for the likes of millionaire Bruce Wayne or genius Russell Crowe, is solved by stressing the pain that goes hand-in-hand with having these advantages. It's not easy being Bruce Wayne. The poor guy is tortured! And while it might be cheaper to get therapy (if he can afford a Bat-utility belt, he can certainly pay 150 bucks an hour for a shrink), Bruce Wayne is admirable because he eschews his personal comfort in the effort to give back to the community. This is so often why the first movie in a Superhero series succeeds and ones that follow don't (such as
Robocop 2).
The creation myth that begins each Superhero franchise stresses sympathy for the Superhero's plight. Once established, filmmakers forget to re-create that sympathy and draw us into the human side of the Superhero again. (
Spider-Man 2
avoids this mistake and, not surprisingly, was a smash hit.)

In truth, we will never truly understand the Superhero. Indeed our identification with him must come from sympathy for the plight of being misunderstood. If you are writing a Superhero movie, a wide range of tales are available for dissection. It's a long-standing story type for a reason: It gives flight to our greatest fantasies about our potential, while tempering those fantasies with a dose of reality.

HOLLYWOOD'S DIRTY LITTLE SECRET

I'm sure having reviewed this list of genres you're not only seeing why so many movies are structurally identical to others, but have had many "Eureka!" moments when you're convinced that outright "stealing" has been perpetrated.

And guess what? You're not so wrong to think that.

Look at
Point Break
starring Patrick Swayze, then look at
Fast and Furious.
Yes, it's the same movie almost beat for beat. But one is about surfing, the other is about hot cars. Is that stealing? Is that cheating? Now look at
The Matrix
and compare and contrast it with the Disney/Pixar hit
Monsters, Inc.
Yup. Same movie. And there's a million more examples:
Who Framed Roger Rabbit?
is
Chinatown. Blank Check
is very similar to
Home Alone.
In some instances, the stealing is conscious. In others, it's just coincidence. But very often the reason it happens is that story templates work and they work for a reason that
must
be repeated. Each of these movies is an example of successful storytelling. Several are huge hits. Do you think anyone is complaining that
Fast and Furious
ripped off the story beats of
Point Break?
Did anyone notice but you and me? Doubtful.

The point I'm trying to get across here is — it works. And it works for a reason. Because the laws of physics that govern storytelling work every time, in every situation. Your job is to learn
why
it works and how these story cogs fit together. When it seems like you're stealing — don't. When it feels like a cliche — give it a twist. When you think it's familiar — it probably is, so you've got to find a new way. But at least understand why you're tempted to use the cliche and the familiar story. The rules are there for a reason. Once you get over feeling confined by these rules, you'll be amazed at how freeing they are. True originality can't begin until you know what you're breaking away from.

SUMMARY

The topic of genre dictates the categorizing of movies. But instead of typical categories such as Romantic Comedy or Heist Movie, we've created 10 new ones that define story types. These categories are all you need for now to help you identify the story mechanics of the movie idea you're working on. You will not need to find exclusions to them.

Or have I written those words prematurely?

You are a screenwriter. And as I said in Chapter One, all good screenwriters are bullheads. So I know what your response to the hard work and years of experience that went into what I've just related to you is:
What about the exceptions?
What about
Breakfast Club?
Huh? Is that Rites of Passage or Institutionalized? (Answer: Institutionalized). Oh, yeah, well what about
Rain Man?
Is that a Golden Fleece or a Buddy Love movie? (Answer: Buddy Love). Okay smart guy, what about Ben Stiller's Z
oolander
???? (Answer: It's just a bad movie!! Actually, it's one of my favorite bad movies. But it's also a great example of... the Superhero genre.)

If you're looking for the exceptions to the rules, you're missing the point of this chapter, which is to use categorizing as a storytelling tool. You
must
know movies. But you can't know them all. So this is a way to start. Take the script you're working on and try to find what category it's most like. Maybe you have moments in your script that borrow from all the categories? Maybe you start off your screenplay telling one type of story and end up telling another. That's fine, too. (I mean,
at the end of the day,
I doubt you'll sell that script, but we all have to learn the hard way. We're screenwriters! Pain is the game!)

The point is to be well-versed in the language, rhythm, and goals of the genre you're trying to move forward. If you know what genre

you're in, learn its rules and find what's essential; you'll write a better and more satisfying movie.

And have a better chance to sell it.

What's so great about these genres is how inspiring they are — at least to me. Seeing these genres laid out, and seeing their heritage — often going back to very ancient and familiar tales — tells me that the job of "Give me the same thing... only different" is not new.
Jaws
is just a retelling of the ancient Greek myth of the Minatour or even the dragon-slayer tales of the Middle Ages.
Superman
is just a modern
Hercules. Road Trip
is just an update of Chaucer's
Canterbury Tales
— isn't it? To not know the roots of the story you're trying to create, either from the last
IOO
years of movie storytelling or the last thousand, is to not honor the traditions and fundamental goals of your job.

"Give me the same thing... only different" then is what storytelling has
always
been about. But it's the way we put new twists on old tales, bring them up to date, and give them a spin that's meaningful for our contemporaries. It's a skill we must master and apply to all aspects of the craft. And in the next chapter, we'll discuss how to take all this wonderful background and draw out the most important part: the hero.

EXERCISES

1. Pick up the movie section of your newspaper. Review each of the movies available and decide what genre they fall into. If you go see that movie, compare and contrast it with the other movies in that genre. Were you drawn to it because of the type of movie it is?

2. Grab your handy
TV Guide
and go to the movie loglines. Going down the list to check films you've seen, write what genre each falls into. (Using the categories above, simply assign a number to each movie you've seen.) Does it work? Does every movie listed fall into a genre?

3. For the movie idea or script you're working on now, decide what category it falls into. Then make a list of other movies in that genre. As homework, go to your local Blockbuster and see how many of these are available. Make notes about how they compare and contrast to each other. Can you better explain what type of movie your idea or finished script is part of?

4. Finally, for those of you who love to find exceptions to the rules, make up your own genre and give it a name. Find three other movies in that genre. Can you find five? Maybe you've discovered a
new
genre!

If you come up with a brand new genre category, use my e-mail address found in the exercise section of Chapter One and send it to me. If it's really a good one, I may even include it in subsequent editions of this book.

The next step in figuring out what your movie is about is to figure out
whom
it's about.

As my wise old father used to say, "Tell me a story about a guy who..."

And after the concept, whenever I hear a screenwriter wind up to pitch his movie idea, somewhere in there I better hear some version of: "
It's about a guy who... "

Why is this?

Well, it's like anything connected with trying to communicate an idea. The "who" is our way in. We, the audience, zero in on and project onto the "who" whether it's an epic motion picture or a commercial for Tide detergent. The "who" gives us someone to identify with — and that someone doesn't even have to be human. Why do mascots and spokespeople like the Jack character in all those Jack-in-the-Box commercials — or any talking corporate icon for that matter — draw us into the "story" of the product being sold? It's because it's easier to communicate an idea when someone is standing there experiencing it for us. And whether we're watching
Lawrence of Arabia
as Lawrence tries to figure out how to

attack Aqaba
" ...from the land!"
or a Tylenol commercial in which a busy Soccer Mom wonders when her headache will
go
away, the principle of involving us in the story is the same.

As screenwriters with a great idea for a movie, the job of creating heroes that will lure an audience into our world is unique. We have to create audience stand-ins that resonate for our target market AND serve the needs and goals of our story. And it starts from the very beginning with that great logline that hooks us with someone to identify with as much as
something.
This is why in any logline, any good logline, there will always be a couple of adjectives involved: A risk-averse teacher who... an agoraphobic stenographer

who... a milquetoast banker who____This also goes for the antagonist

who now must be described as an overprotective cop, a megalomaniac terrorist, or a homicidal baker. So let's add a few things to our list of what the "perfect" logline must include to be truly compelling:

> An adjective to describe the hero

> An adjective to describe the bad guy, and...

> A compelling goal we identify with as human beings

By giving us even these thumbnail sketches of whom we are going to be following — as well as the bad guy who is trying to block our hero from achieving his goal — we get a better snapshot of what is involved so we can latch onto, get interested in, and follow the story. But how are we going to do all that? How are we going to satisfy our great story AND create the "right" characters to sell it?

WHO IS THIS ABOUT?

Every movie, even ensemble pieces like
Pulp Fiction
"starring" John Travolta or
Crimes and Misdemeanors
"starring" Woody Allen, has to have a lead character. It has to be
about
someone. It has to have

one or two main people we can focus our attention on, identify with, and want to root for — and someone who can carry the movie's theme.

As important as creating this type of hero is, and singling him out even if we're writing an ensemble piece, the hero isn't always the first thing we think of, or the way we come at creating a "can't lose" movie idea. I hate to admit it, but I rarely begin writing any movie with the "who" in mind. More often it's the idea first. And if the hero is a part of the idea — well, that's just gravy. Many will tell you differently, and this is only my approach, but I think the "who" has to serve the "what is it?" — not the other way around. And once you have that golden idea, that winning pitch, that perfect hook, and don't quite yet have the "who," it's time to go to work to enhance the idea with the right characters, especially the hero of the story.