Selfishness Is a Virtue

Film hasn't been invented, yet. Why am I screenwriting?

Two things are required for a story: a character and a situation. The former must be complex, the latter should be simple. Both must be ironic. If it sounds easy, you're doing it wrong.

Over the course of a well-told story, a flawed, sympathetic, interesting protagonist struggles for what he/she wants more than anything, ultimately changing him/herself or inspiring change in others. Someone, over the course of your story, grows up. Films are, to borrow a phrase from author Philip Pullman, about the transition of "innocence into experience."

However, interesting ≠ likable. A protagonist does not need to be likable. However, if they're not likeable, they had better darn well be charismatic and interesting. And ideally, they've experienced an injustice or loss (i.e., they must be sympathetic). But this does not mean that they must be the nicest person in the room. Oftentimes, they're not.

Some of the best film characters have been anything but likable. The Godfather's Michael Corleone, There Will Be Blood's Daniel Plainview, Casablanca's Rick Blaine, Citizen Kane's Charles Foster Kane, A Clockwork Orange's Alex DeLarge, Amadeus's Antonio Salieri... each of these characters have displayed elements of selfishness and/or violence, but they're certainly interesting and complex.

A good place to start would be to imagine a conversation between two secondary characters about your protagonist. What would they say?

"He's a brilliant composer."

"He is, but his vanity will be his downfall."

Right there, we have two key attributes that lend considerable weight to characterization. A brilliant composer who is his own worst enemy. I'd go even further and say that every protagonist must in some way be selfish. Selfish does not mean dislikable, but by definition, an active protagonist is willing to move heaven and earth to obtain what he/she wants. Isn't that a bit selfish? A protagonist needs to sacrifice to make his/her plans come to fruition, but what if a protagonist, in his/her drive to the goal, ends up marginalizing or hurting others? A truly sympathetic protagonist should intentionally hurt no one other then him/herself, and oftentimes, the great irony of a protagonist is that the further they stretch toward their goal, the more they hurt themselves. In either case, in order to attain his/her goal, a protagonist will have some big decisions to make, and acting on such decisions will show us more about your character than anything you could otherwise tell us.

Some characters are selfish to the end. See Citizen Kane:

Some characters aren't. See Up:

But in both cases, there exist characters who need to make it over themselves. Your protagonist must start in a situation wherein they have a long way to go. Their own internal complexities are what make a potentially otherwise easy journey especially difficult. They might have a worthy antagonist to defeat, but first, they must slay their own selfish natures.

When Cameron Wasn't in Egypt Land

One of these four (car included) will not survive the day.

I recently re-watched John Hughes's Ferris Bueller's Day Off. It was my first time watching it in years, and I wasn't surprised to find myself seeing it through a more critical eye. Specifically, I realized that while Ferris is the titular and the most active character, his greatest acts are how he changes everyone around him: his ornery sister, his girlfriend, and most importantly, his anxious friend, Cameron.

Howard Suber has taught innumerable courses at UCLA. He is a gifted teacher of screenwriting, and I highly recommend his book, The Power of Film. In it, Suber writes, "There are two basic kinds of change in storytelling: of circumstances and of character." In changes of circumstances, he goes on to say, "the circumstances of the central character change, but by the film's end the characters are still essentially who they were in the beginning."

In changes of character, he says, "the central characters... are not only in greatly changed circumstances by the end of the film – they are not who they were at the beginning" and "Such changes of character are even more important than the changes in circumstances."

Ferris undergoes a change of circumstances. His grumpy principal, Ed Rooney, takes it upon himself to catch Ferris in the act of skipping school. And, for the first time, he does. It's a position in which Ferris has never before been. His own sister comments that everything works out for him. But on this day, it doesn't. Ferris is stuck in a situation that he can't escape on his own. The look in his eyes (and the script) when Rooney finally confronts him tells us so:

But of all the characters in the film, Cameron has the clearest change of character, the greatest barrier to overcome, and is, in my opinion, the most interesting character in the story. Where does he start? He won't even climb out of bed until Ferris annoys him enough to leave his own room. He says, "I can't handle anything: school, parents, the future." Where does he end up? Killing his father's prized car. It might be Ferris's day off, but it's Cameron who grows up.

How do you inject such a powerful emotional arc into your own stories?

In The Godfather, Michael Corleone goes from, "That's my family, Kay. It's not me" to "Just lie here, Pop. I'll take care of you, now. I'm with you now. I'm with you."

In Finding Nemo, Marlin goes from "You think you can do these things, but you can't, Nemo!" to "You're right. I know you can."

In The Shawshank Redemption, Red goes from, "Hope is a dangerous thing. Hope can drive a man insane" to "I hope."

In Up, Carl goes from, "Stay away from our mailbox! I don't want you to touch it!" to "You know, it's just a house."

These are lines, of course, and they're not a bad place to start. But when it comes to really plotting out character arc, better still would be to find defining actions:

In The Graduate, Benjamin floats directionless in a swimming pool. In the end, he steals Elaine from her own wedding.

In As Good as it Gets, Melvin Udall goes from shoving a dog down a garbage chute to demonstrating care and compassion for said dog.

In Jurassic Park, Dr. Alan Grant goes from threatening a child to saving children.

In Ferris Bueller, Cameron goes from bedridden to car-killer.

Cameron starts in Egypt. He makes it to his Promised Land, and it's better than anything for which Ferris could've prepared him. If you're not sure what to do with your character, then having a clear idea as to where they start and where they end is a great way to begin the process.