The second biggest question when developing characters (at least when I learned screenwriting basics) is “What is in the way?” Desires are not worth a whole lot if we don’t have anything stopping us from getting them, right? I mean, they wouldn’t even be desires, would they? They’d just be… I have this thing.
Anyway. I think obstacles are the very stuff of story. Without them, stories wouldn’t exist. It would just be Once upon a time, a prince went off in search of a princess. Then he found her and they lived happily ever after. There’s nothing of interest there. Nothing moving. Nothing inspiring.
Take Twilight, for example. I have never read the books, but I saw the movie last week. One of the central problems in the first two acts of the film is the lack of obstacles. There is no clear obstacle keeping the lovers apart. And that’s what makes a love story interesting! It’s the Montagues and Capulets fighting. It’s the clear stubbornness that “I’m fine on my own!” It’s the curse that keeps her a hawk in the day and him a wolf in the night. Twilight didn’t interest me until the third act, when all of a sudden, there was a real desire (keep dad safe) and obstacles in the path (evil vampires with a wicked sense of smell).
Oftentimes, in story, we find that there are actually two major obstacles in the way of the hero getting their desire. The first is easy. It’s the external obstacle. In Star Wars, it’s the empire as symbolized by Darth Vader. In Final Fantasy VII, it’s Sephiroth summoning Meteor. In the excellent silent film, City Lights, it’s the Tramp’s poverty. These are clear, physical obstacles preventing the heroes from getting what they want and, no doubt about it, they must be overcome. But in the best stories, there is also a second obstacle: the internal.
It’s a common trope that all characters need some kind of flaw, right? But this flaw is usually so significant, it is this internal obstacle, not the external, that truly prevents the hero from getting what he or she wants. In film school, one of the great questions we asked was, “How does who the character is get in the way of what the character wants?” One of my favorite films (known and beloved by all for its artistic merit) is Scott Pilgrim vs. the World. It satirizes so many things I hold dear, but it makes this distinction very, very clear.
SPOILER ALERT. (As if my whole blog doesn’t spoil all kinds of stuff…) (Also, go see this movie.) (Now.)
At the climax, Scott goes to confront Gideon, the leader of the League of Evil Exes. On the surface, the obstacle standing in the way of Scott reuniting with Ramona is Gideon. He’s evil. He has a cool sword. And ninjas. But Scott, ultimately, cannot defeat him. One trippy dream sequence and one whispered, “I think I learned something” later and Scott has had his big transformation. As he all but says out loud later, his biggest obstacle is that he has only found his value in girls rather than finding intrinsic value in himself. Armed with this newfound “Power of Self-Respect”, Scott can defeat Gideon once and for all and reclaim the lady that he loves. This time, though, he has a real chance of keeping her, since he’s not expecting her to be his sole affirmation of existence. (If that sounds cheesy, just go see the movie. It’s totally not. Or it is. Either way, it’s on purpose and awesome.)
Other stories do this much more subtly. In many romantic comedies, it’s the moment that the guy realizes that his real enemy isn’t her parents/her friends/a long distance/whatever else. Really, he just needs to settle down and commit to this wonderful woman, despite her flaws. In the Lord of the Rings movies, it’s when Aragorn finally grows a pair and leads his kingdom. In Casablanca, it’s when Rick calls in a favor with Renault to send Elsa away with her husband. All of these moments – and simultaneous actions – are caused by these characters overcoming their fatal flaws and interior obstacles.
The interesting thing is that none of these characters would have overcome – or even been aware of – their internal obstacles and flaws if it had not been for the external flaws. Without Sauron rising to power, Aragorn would have never questioned his decision to run away from the throne. Without the drama in the romcom, the Guy would not have proposed. Without the Nazis and Elsa’s husband, Rick never would have called in that favor and grown to be a freedom fighter again.
Ultimately, it is this battle that inspires us more than anything when we interact with stories. Sure, watching the Empire go down is fun. But we want to see the hero go from self-serving to self-sacrificing. At the end of the day, that’s what makes us want to live our lives better.
I feel like I don’t have to do a lot of work to connect these story concepts to real life. If we really want something as badly as I talked about yesterday, we will encounter resistance. Obstacles will present themselves. Maybe it’s funding. Maybe it’s workplace politics and a stubborn superior. Maybe it’s straight up evil men. Either way, we will have external obstacles and I think it’s important to name them. Naming an obstacle for what it is is the first step toward making a plan to overcome it.
Internal obstacles are a bit trickier. Most characters spend the story finally discovering their real flaw. They are usually ignorant at the beginning. We, however, are often acutely aware of our flaws. (I know I am.) I do think – and this is getting a lot more speculative – that if we are aware of our flaws, then they become more like external obstacles. We know what the issue is and we can make a plan to overcome it.
Just like story characters, though, we have numerous hidden flaws. There will always be blind spots in our understanding of ourselves. I often find that, as I pursue what I want, I discover that the real blind spot – the real inner flaw – is a theological issue. I don’t trust God. I don’t trust that he’s good. I don’t fully believe that he forgives me or empowers me or loves me. For you, maybe it’s something else. Maybe a secret arrogance or a hidden jealousy. No matter what it is, the only way we’ll actually discover it is to pursue something. We should keep on wanting something enough to risk until we are confronted by a facet about ourselves that we never knew.
(Side note: this is why having important friendships is incredibly important. They can tell us, often before we know ourselves, what that flaw is. Maybe if we listen, we can avert the tragedies…)
So perhaps we should reframe how we look at the obstacles in our path. It is they, not some inner discipline and force, that helps make the story worth the telling. Obstacles show characters (and us) who they really are and what the real problem is. It is the obstacles in life that God uses the most in shaping our character (this time I mean the inner person, not a story-person). Through adversity, we grow and are shaped.
What’s in your way? What prevents you from getting what you want, both externally and internally? How can you develop a plan to fight the external obstacles while remaining attentive to the internal?
Anyway. I think obstacles are the very stuff of story. Without them, stories wouldn’t exist. It would just be Once upon a time, a prince went off in search of a princess. Then he found her and they lived happily ever after. There’s nothing of interest there. Nothing moving. Nothing inspiring.
Take Twilight, for example. I have never read the books, but I saw the movie last week. One of the central problems in the first two acts of the film is the lack of obstacles. There is no clear obstacle keeping the lovers apart. And that’s what makes a love story interesting! It’s the Montagues and Capulets fighting. It’s the clear stubbornness that “I’m fine on my own!” It’s the curse that keeps her a hawk in the day and him a wolf in the night. Twilight didn’t interest me until the third act, when all of a sudden, there was a real desire (keep dad safe) and obstacles in the path (evil vampires with a wicked sense of smell).
Oftentimes, in story, we find that there are actually two major obstacles in the way of the hero getting their desire. The first is easy. It’s the external obstacle. In Star Wars, it’s the empire as symbolized by Darth Vader. In Final Fantasy VII, it’s Sephiroth summoning Meteor. In the excellent silent film, City Lights, it’s the Tramp’s poverty. These are clear, physical obstacles preventing the heroes from getting what they want and, no doubt about it, they must be overcome. But in the best stories, there is also a second obstacle: the internal.
It’s a common trope that all characters need some kind of flaw, right? But this flaw is usually so significant, it is this internal obstacle, not the external, that truly prevents the hero from getting what he or she wants. In film school, one of the great questions we asked was, “How does who the character is get in the way of what the character wants?” One of my favorite films (known and beloved by all for its artistic merit) is Scott Pilgrim vs. the World. It satirizes so many things I hold dear, but it makes this distinction very, very clear.
SPOILER ALERT. (As if my whole blog doesn’t spoil all kinds of stuff…) (Also, go see this movie.) (Now.)
At the climax, Scott goes to confront Gideon, the leader of the League of Evil Exes. On the surface, the obstacle standing in the way of Scott reuniting with Ramona is Gideon. He’s evil. He has a cool sword. And ninjas. But Scott, ultimately, cannot defeat him. One trippy dream sequence and one whispered, “I think I learned something” later and Scott has had his big transformation. As he all but says out loud later, his biggest obstacle is that he has only found his value in girls rather than finding intrinsic value in himself. Armed with this newfound “Power of Self-Respect”, Scott can defeat Gideon once and for all and reclaim the lady that he loves. This time, though, he has a real chance of keeping her, since he’s not expecting her to be his sole affirmation of existence. (If that sounds cheesy, just go see the movie. It’s totally not. Or it is. Either way, it’s on purpose and awesome.)
Other stories do this much more subtly. In many romantic comedies, it’s the moment that the guy realizes that his real enemy isn’t her parents/her friends/a long distance/whatever else. Really, he just needs to settle down and commit to this wonderful woman, despite her flaws. In the Lord of the Rings movies, it’s when Aragorn finally grows a pair and leads his kingdom. In Casablanca, it’s when Rick calls in a favor with Renault to send Elsa away with her husband. All of these moments – and simultaneous actions – are caused by these characters overcoming their fatal flaws and interior obstacles.
The interesting thing is that none of these characters would have overcome – or even been aware of – their internal obstacles and flaws if it had not been for the external flaws. Without Sauron rising to power, Aragorn would have never questioned his decision to run away from the throne. Without the drama in the romcom, the Guy would not have proposed. Without the Nazis and Elsa’s husband, Rick never would have called in that favor and grown to be a freedom fighter again.
Ultimately, it is this battle that inspires us more than anything when we interact with stories. Sure, watching the Empire go down is fun. But we want to see the hero go from self-serving to self-sacrificing. At the end of the day, that’s what makes us want to live our lives better.
I feel like I don’t have to do a lot of work to connect these story concepts to real life. If we really want something as badly as I talked about yesterday, we will encounter resistance. Obstacles will present themselves. Maybe it’s funding. Maybe it’s workplace politics and a stubborn superior. Maybe it’s straight up evil men. Either way, we will have external obstacles and I think it’s important to name them. Naming an obstacle for what it is is the first step toward making a plan to overcome it.
Internal obstacles are a bit trickier. Most characters spend the story finally discovering their real flaw. They are usually ignorant at the beginning. We, however, are often acutely aware of our flaws. (I know I am.) I do think – and this is getting a lot more speculative – that if we are aware of our flaws, then they become more like external obstacles. We know what the issue is and we can make a plan to overcome it.
Just like story characters, though, we have numerous hidden flaws. There will always be blind spots in our understanding of ourselves. I often find that, as I pursue what I want, I discover that the real blind spot – the real inner flaw – is a theological issue. I don’t trust God. I don’t trust that he’s good. I don’t fully believe that he forgives me or empowers me or loves me. For you, maybe it’s something else. Maybe a secret arrogance or a hidden jealousy. No matter what it is, the only way we’ll actually discover it is to pursue something. We should keep on wanting something enough to risk until we are confronted by a facet about ourselves that we never knew.
(Side note: this is why having important friendships is incredibly important. They can tell us, often before we know ourselves, what that flaw is. Maybe if we listen, we can avert the tragedies…)
So perhaps we should reframe how we look at the obstacles in our path. It is they, not some inner discipline and force, that helps make the story worth the telling. Obstacles show characters (and us) who they really are and what the real problem is. It is the obstacles in life that God uses the most in shaping our character (this time I mean the inner person, not a story-person). Through adversity, we grow and are shaped.
What’s in your way? What prevents you from getting what you want, both externally and internally? How can you develop a plan to fight the external obstacles while remaining attentive to the internal?
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