The Hurt Locker deserved the Oscar for Best Film but the ending is a disappointment. Up in the Air and No Country for Old Men are two other recent good films that could have been great with better finales. Have screenwriters forgotten how to satisfy audiences or are they perversely choosing to frustrate us?

Blaster 1 heading towards an unsatisfying conclusion in Kathryn Bigelow's Oscar-winning The Hurt Locker

Blaster 1 heading towards an unsatisfying conclusion in Kathryn Bigelow's Oscar-winning The Hurt Locker

The Hurt Locker fizzles out after Fiennes

The Hurt Locker is amazing – for about 2/3 of its length. It grips you from the opening scene then expertly builds and releases the tension in waves. The crisis of the second act seemed to be the sequence in the desert where Ralph Fiennes appeared as a mercenary. It was exhausting – in a good way. After the scene back in the barracks I felt we were setting up beautifully for the final act – but no. After that the film loses its way, spends too long doing it, and dissipates both the dramatic tension and the audience’s goodwill.

Some would argue that the desultory nature of the action after that point mirrors the disintegrating mind of the protagonist but this is drama. This is story. No matter how unhinged he becomes, the narrative threads need to be concentrating and the theme needs to be crystallising. Over the sequences with Beckham, the body bomb and the family back home in the States, neither of those things happened. The tension didn’t lift to the level of the 2nd act and ultimately I was left feeling that this guy wasn’t made this way by the war. This is just the way this guy is. So we’ve watched all this because … ? What’s that? To learn that war is hell? Please.

Up in the Air crashes in the final reel

I love romantic comedies and the chemistry between George Clooney and Vera Farmiga was to die for. That scene where they were comparing their loyalty cards was in the Spencer Tracey – Katherine Hepburn league. I was in love. Unfortunately, it all fell apart after the revelation that Alex was married.

I don’t necessarily say they should have ended up together. It was an interesting twist – though I would argue that her actions at the wedding weren’t those of a married woman just having a fling. The problem was that after taking away the conventional pleasure, the writer/director didn’t offer anything in its place. We were talked through the ending rather than feeling it. It was a cerebral finale when cinema audiences – particular where romance is involved – are looking for an emotional denouement.

An example of another recent romantic film that defied convention but still delivered some consolation was 500 Days of Summer. Gordon Joseph Levitt loses Zooey Deschanel. Bummer. But in that short scene at the end, where he meets a woman who’s going for the same job he’s after, we get the sense of possibility. I didn’t walk out skipping but neither was I cursing. After Up in the Air I was left with nothing. George Clooney can’t get a girl? What chance do mere mortals stand?

No Country for Old men – so close to greatness

I think that Anton Sugar is one of the greatest antagonists in cinematic history. That scene where he’s tossing the coin in that remote general store was sheer genius. No violence but tension off the scale. For the entire movie, we follow this deranged guy with bad hair but entirely dedicated to a curious honour code, as he pursues the opportunistic Josh Brolin. It’s lion chasing Bambi and we’re dying to see whether the deer makes it. Then, just when it appears that we are set for the ultimate showdown, Josh is killed. Offscreen.

How could they do that? How could they be so cruel to their audience? I am not alone here. Almost everyone I’ve spoken to about this film loves the journey and despises the destination. What a waste.

I know that the film is faithful to the novel in bookending the tale with Tommy Lee Jones but I don’t care. I don’t go to the cinema looking for adaptive fidelity. I go looking for the ride. And that dream stuff with Tommy was plainly uncinematic. That’s not a good idea in the first or second acts. In the third, it’s inexcusable. If the Coen Bros had been operating this ride at the county fair, I’d have demanded by money back.

A satisfying ending isn’t necessarily a happy ending

I’m not looking for a happy ending. I hate happy endings.  I’m looking for emotionally satisfying endings.

Dead Man Walking ends with Sean Penn being executed. That’s a great ending. Because before he dies he finally confesses. That’s catharsis.

One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest ends with Jack Nicholson minus his frontal lobe and suffocated to death. But we leave the cinema feeling fulfilled because his sacrifice has liberated another – the Chief. A tragic yet fabulous ending.

Dead Poets Society has the film’s central character commit suicide and its mentor made the scapegoat yet we walk out exultant because another character rises up out of the ashes. “Oh, Captain, my captain”.

Screenwriting is all about the ending

Personally, I think the whole craft of screenwriting is about delivering an emotionally satisfying ending to your audience. Any mug can write a first act. With a little more talent, you can fake your way to the end of the second act. But it’s in those final 15-30 minutes that it all needs to pay off. If it doesn’t, you haven’t got a B+. You’ve got an F. It’s all about the ending. Fail there and everything that precedes it has been a waste of time – for the filmmakers and the punters.

Why are so many good filmmakers delivering bad endings?

Kathryn Bigelow is a good filmmaker. Jason Reitman is a good filmmaker – and he delivered a great ending with Juno. The Coen Bros are extraordinarily talented filmmakers – and delivered a powerful traditional ending with their early Blood Simple. So I don’t think it’s that they can’t write emotionally satisfying endings. I think they can but choose not to. Why?

I think they want to be original. They want to avoid the predictable. And that’s fine. But if your unconventional ending is less satisfying than a more conventional ending then I think you’ve made a poor choice for your audience. Again, one of the hardest jobs you face as a writer is working within traditional story structures and still finding a way to make it seem fresh. I don’t think abandoning the traditional ending is a sign of creativity. I think it’s a cop out.

An even less acceptable justification for these “alternative” endings is that “this is how it is in real life”. Oh, really? So, filmmakers who earn millions of dollars a movie, live between homes in LA, Aspen and Florida, and couldn’t tell you the price of bread are going to tell the average cinema-goer how life really is, are they? What utter bollocks.

Life is a tricky business. People go to the cinema to be reminded of the potential of the human experience. Because they need reminding.  If you don’t deliver an emotionally satisfying ending, you haven’t given them what they came for. You’ve told them what they already knew. The audience is the boss. I for one am going to try to send my boss out of the building with a song in their heart.

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One of my students just asked me how his hero could gain courage. This highlights a common misconception about character arcs so I thought I’d share my response.

What transforms stammering Todd into the brave hero by the end of Dead Poets Society?

What transforms stammering Todd into the brave hero by the end of Dead Poets Society?

The two fundamental character flaws: lack of courage or lack of compassion

I remember arcing up in Lynda Heys’ screenwriting course years ago when she said that characters only have two flaws: lack of courage or lack of compassion. But after years of reflection, I’ve come to appreciate that she’s basically right. You get variations on a theme but when a coward becomes brave or a taciturn brute opens their heart there is a powerful resonance that moves us all. But how do they make this transition? Hence my student’s question:

How does one gain courage ? What does a character have to go through to master their fears? I had the thought that it can either be a life threatening trauma that they survive or a resolution or realisation about life that gives a higher state of mind that allows them to objectify the fear and defeat it.

Character arc doesn’t sit outside the story arc

When screenwriters start out, they know they need to have a story arc. Then they find out that their heroes have to have a character transformation as well. However, the mistake they often make is to have those 2 arcs unrelated. So, they contrive something outside the main narrative that allows the hero to come back and grab the prize. That’s not how it should work.

The story arc drives the character arc

In a good story, the character arc doesn’t sit apart from the main story. The main story drives the character arc. It goes like this:

Hero has flaw.
Hero wants prize.
Hero is prevented from getting the prize because of his flaw.
Hero wants prize so badly – needs prize so badly – they are forced to confront their flaw, in a life and death situation (literal or metaphoric), face it down, and grab the prize.

How does the hero gain courage?

So what transforms the hero? The story transforms the hero. It brings them to a position where they are forced to choose the hard, new way and proceed further in their quest – or fall back on their old ways and fail.

When does the hero gain courage?

When does this moment happen in the overall structure of the film? In the Ordeal – step 8 of the Hero’s Journey. This is where the hero experiences this life and death moment that highlights their flaw and demands that they change if they want to progress.

How Billy Wilder did it in The Apartment

In Bill Wilder’s The Apartment, CC Baxter (Jack Lemmon) lacks courage. When his superiors ask to use his apartment for liaisons with their floozies, he’s not strong enough to say no. In return, they promote him. What ultimately gives him the courage to take a stand, and turn his back on his career? The Ordeal.

He returns to his boss a broken compact mirror he’s found in his apartment only to see Miss Kubelick using the same compact mirror. That’s a metaphoric death. He has wanted to advance his career and get Miss Kubelick – but in that moment he knows that he can’t have both. Want the girl? You’re going to have to change, old Buddy boy!

Later, he’ll get to show us the brave choice he’s made when he refuses to give his apartment key to his boss – and walks out on his job. His moment of Resurrection.

How Todd transforms in Dead Poets Society

In Dead Poets Society, Todd (Ethan Hawke) lacks courage at the start of the film. What transforms him? His Ordeal.

Mr Keating (Robin Williams) forces him to stand at the front of the class and compose a poem – Todd’s greatest fear. But he confronts those fears and conjures “the sweaty toothed madmen”. He’s transformed.

Later, he gets to show us the new Todd when Keating has been made a scapegoat for Neil’s suicide. Knowing he’ll incur the wrath of his parents and be expelled, he steps up onto his desk and exclaims, “Oh, captain, my captain”. Resurrection.

How Phil Connors is transformed in Groundhog Day

Bill Murray’s character doesn’t lack courage in Groundhog Day – he lacks compassion. But again it’s his Ordeal that transforms him.

Having tried to bed Rita (Andie McDowell) by foul means, and been slapped on the face a hundred times, he tries to kill himself but every day wakes up to “Put your little hand in mine, there ain’t mountain I can’t climb, I got you, babe”. Can’t fulfil his goal because of character flaw, life and death moment, transformation.

Align your character arc with your story – and force your character to evolve or perish

So the secret to transforming your hero is to make sure your story brings them to a point – about 3/5 of the way through the film – where they can no longer proceed in their quest without confronting their flaw. Make it hard for them. Really hard. Make it their greatest fear. Their point of greatest vulnerability. Then, in overcoming that fear, they will be transformed as characters – and have won the hearts of your audience.

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Why Baz Luhrmann’s Australia didn’t work

August 26, 2009

Why Baz Luhrmann’s Australia didn’t work
We could talk at length about the flaws in the story of Baz Luhrmann’s Australia. But what was the fundamental reason it didn’t work? It wasn’t inspired by a writer’s fire.
Passion recollected in tranquillity
Wordsworth said that his poetry was “emotion recollected in tranquillity” and I think that’s true of most [...]

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