I don't write much about story, although I have been involved in it to one extent or another on almost every feature I have ever worked on. Story is many things to many people, and although I have worked with some very talented folks in this realm it remains largely a mystery every time I go to tackle even a part of it. There are many good books and seminars on the subject, especially as it pertains to feature films, but even the best of these can only provide guidelines and woe to those who become orthodox adherents to them. You can scrupulously follow every point in these and it won't guarantee a good script or story. Much of this, valuable as it is, boils down to teaching how to write clearly and effectively. Writing entertainingly is another matter. As my old figure drawing instructor used to say: "I can teach you to draw, but that doesn't make you an artist."
Story is a much discussed and debated subject, but in the end, it is something so ethereal that even those I know who have mastered it can't fully explain it. If there were a magic formula for it, every play by Neil Simon would be as funny as THE ODD COUPLE, which is sadly not the case. Like Dizzy Gillespe said about jazz: "You don't play jazz, you just catch a little piece of it every now and then." (Someone will no doubt correct me on the exact wording of that and even if I got the source correct.) The proof is in the pudding and sometimes you succeed and sometimes you fail.
One helpful thing I started doing late in the game was turn away from movies & TV, and toward reading more classic fiction, something I still try to make time for. Too often I have met inexperienced story people and writers who have read many more books about writing than they have read actual books with great writing in them. If you want to do film story, don't be one of those. The more you read great prose writing, the more you see how diverse storytelling can be and that there are as many ways to skin the story cat as there are great authors.
Disclaimers aside, my story subject today is : THE VILLAIN. In animated stories, the villains have been such a rich topic that at least one entire book was devoted to Disney's villains, and audiences frequently come away loving to hate these characters more than even feeling good about the heroes. From my earliest days doing story work I remember various script gurus prescribing that a great villain is the key to every great story. Contrarian that I am, I was annoyed by this supposition in the beginning and am still annoyed by it now. Eventually I began to realize why. It happened around twenty years ago in a discussion I had with a development executive, on the very topic of Disney villains.
The fellow in question one day suddenly said: "Shere Kahn is the worst villain in all of Disney." Dissing JUNGLE BOOK to me is like waving a red flag at a bull, but I decided to hear out his arguments: "You don't even see him until halfway through Act Two, all he does is talk, and he is defeated too easily to make any sense." To which I remember saying (to my surprise): "How can you say that? In the first place, Shere Kahn isn't even the villain. He's the ticking clock." The 'ticking clock' in story is always some urgent event the audience is told to anticipate early on, which, when it arrives, signals the climax of the action and soon afterward the end. I had never thought about it before, but this is exactly how the tiger in Disney's version of the story functions. In a lesser sense he is also the main antagonist, but he's just one of many.
The startled exec said : "Well if that's true, (and I'm not sayin' it is) then who the hell is the villain?" To which I replied, (surprising myself again): "Mowgli!" "What?" the guy was incredulous, "He's the *$#%&*#@'in' protagonist!" "Think about it," I said. "The goal of the film is to get Mowgli back to the Man Village before the tiger comes. Who is thwarting that goal at every step? Mowgli! Yeah he's the protagonist, but he's also his own worst enemy! Best kind of villain there is." I don't know how persuaded my opponent was, but I stuck by my guns and still do. It's one of the things I like best about the movie. It's also what I liked about Walt Disney's approach to story telling: totally organic.
Years later, I found myself fighting the same battle with an animation writer discussing PINOCCHIO. "It's a weak story," he said, "Too episodic. There's no clear cut villain and the beat with the fox repeats itself..." Once again this challenge made me suss out similar virtues about PINOCCHIO. My defense was (and still is) "Too episodic? Who cares? Some of the best stories ever written were episodic. No clear cut villain: again--Pinocchio is his own worst enemy, he doesn't need a single villain, just a series of temptations, antagonists, and risks. And the repetition of being fooled by the fox is a perfect illustration of the old saw: 'Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.' Pinocchio gets a little slack for being bamboozled the first time, after all he was only born yesterday. The second time, we have to blame him for being so naive, and he basically gets what he deserves. He very nearly becomes a jackass and becomes grotesquely disfigured. He manages to save himself just in time to make some noble sacrifices and set things to right. Then he's transformed at the end as a reward. Perfect freakin' story." I will brook no arguments on this. (Although I admit, it is mighty slow getting started by today's standards.)
Don't get me wrong, I like Captain Hook and the Wicked Queen and Cruella DeVille. But a lot of people feel we don't have to improve on SNOW WHITE: SWEET PASSIVE GIRL vs MEAN WITCH = CONFLICT. As much as I like SNOW WHITE, let's face it, it's largely artificial. I do think you can have the best of both when a protagonist has to struggle with his internal demons and fight an external villain at the same time. Otherwise, the "good guys in white hats versus bad guys in black hats" can't really transcend one-dimensional melodrama as far as I'm concerned. Melodrama is fine by me, by the way, but let's call it what it is. If you're doing that, embrace it knowingly and go forth.
I guess it comes from a personally held belief that whatever failures and shortcomings may plague us, we have to "own" our parts in them, and take responsibility for them. Sometimes, yes, there are those who are victimized unfairly with no recourse, but too often the victim/victimizer story tends to suggest something too facile and even too shallow to me. An all-powerful villain who activates a plot is often everybody's favorite character because this thinking often renders the "hero" passive and bland. We're basically waiting to see the villain defeated and that's all. Which isn't bad, but it seems simplistic. It's like saying: "everything would be fine if I could just get rid of bad people I don't like. Because I am perfect, they are the ones who are causing the trouble." To me, the best solution is to set our underdog up not just with obstacles thrown in his way by others, but by temptations, challenges and weaknesses in his own character. Getting to see a protagonist (I hate the word "hero") take a long hard look at his mistakes is very gratifying. Overcoming external villains generally imparts virtue to a character, but overcoming internal ones imparts wisdom. When in doubt do both, but if I had my choice and could only have one, I'd take the latter.
There is another conundrum in dealing with villains: "Why is the villain a villain?" This is thorny because you can either end up explaining away a villain's badness in psychological terms that make him too sympathetic, or, on the other hand, render a character who simply embodies traits you want to demonize. In BEAUTY & THE BEAST, 'Gaston' is that second kind of villain, but what mitigates that for me is that 'The Beast' begins as a pretty awful and rotten guy as well, inside and out. Watching him change and grow and become a better "person" is every bit as satisfying as seeing him kick Gaston's carcass. Even more satisfying really. In MONSTERS INC. Randall seems to be this kind of villain too--a cheat, a liar, a fink. His motives are clear but his methods are despicable. I frankly don't care "why" he stoops to cheat. We all know someone who would. In a pinch, I would rather make the hero more complex and know less about the "why" of the villain's motives. In both these movies to do any more would rob the protagonists stories, which are loaded up with enough interest. The most important thing for any kind of villain is that they represent the negative aspects of whatever the theme is. (Theme is a whole other kettle of fish).
If this indicates that I would tend to favor the straightforward 'bad guy", I would say "sometimes" but my problem here is that demonized villains can lead to pedantically, moralized stories: "They are bad, we are good." I complained about this once to a producer who professed to love "moral" stories of this very one dimensional kind. I remember thinking that I'd rather hear someone admit their own mistakes than listen to somebody one-sidedly demonize others. If simplifying the villain allows a story to flesh out a more conflicted protagonist, then fine.
A couple of my favorite movies have no tangible villain at all. In Mel Brooks' first and still best film THE PRODUCERS there is only the sense that the protagonists are in the process of committing a highly risky but ultimately vicitimless crime. A lesser writer would have thrown in a snoop of some sort to discover their plot and attempt to expose them...yadda yadda yadda. Happily, Brooks never stoops to this and it keeps the movie clear and manic. The only physical villain appears in the very first scene: a landlord who pressures Zero Mostel for the rent, and then disappears quickly. At the end, we see our heroes defeated in court by a fairly neutral judge and jury and sent to prison, where they thrive anyway. The "villains" in this story are: poverty, prison, society, loneliness, failure etc. A friend I know who also loves this movie thinks Zero Mostel is the villain, and I wouldn't argue completely. But in a traditional sense, he is also the hero. What I love is that the actions he and Gene Wilder undertake, which are basically criminal, are so laden with understood risks that an on-screen villain is not even necessary. A purely subversive comedy in every sense.
In his other great film YOUNG FRANKENSTEIN, this is almost entirely the case again. Sure we have antagonists: Cloris Leachman instigating, Kenneth Mars snooping around, a domineering fiancee and a classic angry mob. But the big struggles are internal: Young Dr. F is at war with himself, nature and ultimately with death. Surprisingly, the movie defeats death by allowing the monster to live and thrive and even get the girl of his dreams. And it's pretty funny. How different would it be if a domineering villain character had deliberately set everything in motion.
I certainly have worked on a lot of "villain-driven" movies and I will probably work on more in the future. Like everything else, I think there are good ways of doing it and ways which are not so good. Whenever I can, though, I try to advocate putting in some inner flaws that the protagonist has to overcome. Surprisingly, while this makes the character more real to me, someone always worries that any flaw whatsoever will make a main character "unlikeable." I have two words against this argument: "The Grinch."
The book HOW THE GRINCH STOLE CHRISTMAS has been around at least as long as I have and generations of kids continue to love it. There is only one principle character in the whole story and HE'S THE VILLAIN! And everybody loves watching him. Look at STAR WARS, the main character of the entire series turned out to be: DARTH VADER. It was Lucas' plan all along and we should have known it when we all came away with that character more than all the others way back at the beginning (or as Lucas would later have it, the middle). The only problem is that the more we "understand" him in the ensuing films, the less interesting he gets. Chris Sanders & Dean Deblois' STITCH character was a real breakthrough for Disney: a principal character who is genetically pre-disposed to premeditated mischief and mayhem. Watching him wreak havoc is a whole lot of fun. To the extent he reforms at the end of the movie, he hasn't lost his sense of danger. Do we want him to? No. The transformation this time is that he has pulled the pieces of a broken family together, and not entirely intentionally, which is fine. The appeal of SEINFELD and CURB YOUR ENTHUSIASM is in characters who are living car-wrecks. People don't necessaryily reject flawed characters, what they reject are BORING characters.
See? Story is easy! (Except when it isn't. Which is all the time.)