In our last post, we created Drago and put him in direct competition with Johnny for a medical school scholarship. I gave you a simple exercise and series of questions designed to help you understand how to exploit "core conflicts" -- conflicts that arise from clashes between people's core beliefs and needs. We also had an external conflict in the competition for the scholarship.
As the comment thread shows, most of you had a relatively easy time putting Drago and Johnny into a position where these core conflicts would have an impact on the progress of the meeting. None of you hunted for common ground between Johnny and Drago -- same major, same age, same career goals, perhaps some other similarities that might form at least some basis for a casual friendship. All of you focused on their differences and on the way their differences create conflict. These differences are the soul of drama. Conflict can be created by two people who want the same thing (a scholarship), but that conflict becomes dramatic when the people involved challenge each other on some deeper level.
I did this on purpose. I created Drago specifically so that he would challenge Johnny and Johnny would challenge him for more than just a scholarship. And now I would like to take a moment to explain how I did that.
One Simple(ish) Method for Creating Foils
Step One.
Identify the character's core emotional need.
Johnny has a core emotional need for status. We already knew this, and knew some of his other competing needs. But I chose to focus on status when creating Drago.
Step Two.
Figure out what would threaten that core belief.
This is pretty easy once you get the hang of it. Imagine something that would take away any possibility of satisfying that core emotional need. Johnny's need for status is expressed through material things. Taking away those material things in another character would call up the emotions for Johnny. See, it's not that Johnny actually wants all the latest gadgets and the shiniest car. He wants what these things represent. (Yes, he might actually want many of these things for themselves, but this doesn't explain why he always buys his new iPhone on the first day of release.) Taking away any possibility of gathering all these status symbols is good, but taking away both their physical presence and the desire for them is even better.
In the comments, some of you have mentioned that you know a guy just like Johnny. Have you ever had conversations with them about what other people own? In my experience, these conversations have three levels:
- envy (He has more than me, therefore he will be better than me until I get it, too.)
- confusion (I don't understand why he thinks this one is better. What am I missing? Do I have to get one of these things now, too, even though I don't understand it?)
- dismissal (They got nuthin. Ha! I win!)
In all those cases, Johnny is comparing what he has to what others have. This is how he relates to people. Remove the possibility of object comparison, and you remove his habitual means for relating to people.
So right away, I knew we wanted a character with nothing. But mere poverty would not suffice, because Johnny would dismiss them easily. After all, in the world according to Johnny, money can be made, even if you're a kid. Babysitting, lawnmowing, paper routes, even lemonade stands. So we needed a character for whom none of this would have been possible. And that impossibility would have been so absolute that even Johnny would see it.
I considered a scholarship student who grew up in foster care. I think we can all agree that foster children rarely grow up with silver spoons. Maybe he moved around a lot, so things like a paper route would have been out of the question. And there would have been some tragedy in his past that would have triggered the foster care situation, so this might have awakened some sympathy in people who met him.
But I changed my mind because of step three.
Step Three.
Make it big.
We talk alot about "big" books, but it's not always easy to explain what we mean. So let's look at an example. Remember, we're evaluating these scenarios in terms of how they challenge Johnny's core emotional beliefs.
Scenario 1: Character's parents are both doctors. He grew up in a wealthy suburb. Went to the best private schools. Drives a BMW convertible. He was raised to believe in service, the old "those to whom much is given, from much is expected" thing. He spends the lunch with Dr. Cannon discussing his volunteer work at the hospitals where his parents work. The discussion of volunteerism might challenge Johnny a little, but Johnny would still evaluate this character in terms of what he owns. There's little meaningful challenge here, so it's a fairly small conflict.
Also, it's worth noting that we're talking about a character with a fairly typical upper-middle class upbringing. There's nothing shocking, nothing to rouse our sympathies, and nothing to make it bold or unique.
Scenario 2: Our foster care student. This guy had little stability as he was growing up, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. We know that Johnny has some stability needs that tie into his status need. Johnny would feel uncomfortable around him on some level, but ultimately he would be able to resolve it. "The guy grew up with nothing and no possibility of getting anything. But it's different now. He got a free ride to a state school for his bachelor's degree. All the foster kids get that. It's guaranteed (stable)." And then, having resolved the stability question at least in part, Johnny would start thinking in terms of whether the free public school was "better" than the high-priced private school he attended.
This character's upbringing is less typical than the doctors' kid. There might be something shocking in his past that led to the need for foster care. Foster care can rouse people's sympathies, and so it's a bigger situation than that of our first student.
Scenario 3: Drago.
I don't think we need to revisit the ways in which Drago challenges Johnny's core beliefs. He does, and we've explored various ways that this might play out.
Let's look instead at the relative bigness of his situation.
Genocide is less common than foster care, which is less common than a middle-class upbringing.
Civil war is more destructive to a person's environment/stability/material accumulation than foster care, which is more destructive than a middle-class upbringing.
Civil war, genocide, being rescued by the UN, being an international refugee -- these are all played on a bigger world stage, where foster care is statewide, and a middle-class upbringing is local.
We could go on. I'll leave it to you to find other means for comparison, and post your ideas in the comments.
But here's your real assignment for this post. People have a fairly limited number of core emotional needs. Some common ones are needs for approval, power, or independence. Choose one of these, or choose another core need if you prefer. And then think of two ways (one smaller, one bigger) that this need could be challenged through a character foil.
Yeah, it's a harder assignment, but it's a fun one. Have at it!
Theresa
Showing posts with label foils. Show all posts
Showing posts with label foils. Show all posts
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Core Conflicts
Let's start by reviewing the way we've worked over poor Johnny the status-seeking pre-med student. (He would object to being called "poor Johnny." He deserves better than to be manipulated and exposed by a bunch of starving artists. Really, who the hell do we think we are? lol)
We started with a few key pieces of external behavior and worked inward to get to his core emotional need.
We used that core emotional need to predict simple, controllable behavior.
We used that core emotional need and companion needs to demonstrate how seemingly contradictory behavior can be consistent with that character.
We examined self-image as a facet of emotional need and as a predictor of behavior.
We looked at how Johnny's desire to hide pieces of his personality might influence behavior in a common social situation with zero conflict.
And this has all been leading up to this post. Now we'll look at how to exploit core conflicts.
Meet Drago
What we haven't done yet is create a second character with an external goal which puts him in direct conflict with Johnny. Remember, the pretty party girl was not a developed character. We let you all stand in for her and imagine how you would respond to Johnny. We didn't give her her own set of needs and goals. This is why we need Drago now.
Drago is a survivor. He grew up in a region of Europe torn apart by civil war. The wars left his remote village intact for the first few years -- his village is so remote, in fact, that the communist government never could figure out how to get electricity to them. They didn't import much of anything, but they did a little bartering with neighboring villages. As a child, Drago sometimes walked the three hours through the mountains to the next village with a load of homemade cheese in a pack on his back. He enjoyed the return trip more because he could spend his time in anticipation of his village's excitement to see what he managed to get in trade for the cheese.
One day when Drago was making this trip, rebel soldiers came to his village, collected all the men and boys, and slaughtered them. Then they moved on to the next village and did the same. Drago survived only because he was on a mountain path that the soldiers didn't know about. Drago, his mother, and all the other surviving women and girls were taken in by the UN, moved to a refugee camp in another part of Europe, and eventually were settled in the US.
Drago's self-image is "survivor," and his core emotional need is justice. He wants to be a doctor because he wants to right the wrongs committed by bad men, brutal soldiers. He has watched his mother struggle to adapt to her new environment. She may have been the best cheese-maker in the mountains, but her lack of exposure to modern living has made it impossible for her to even find work as a cleaning woman. This has also made Drago hyper-protective.
Drago, Meet Johnny
Drago got a scholarship to college, and he needs a scholarship if he's going to go to med school. He and Johnny have both applied for a prestigious internship that would pay their tuition and expenses. In addition to these benefits, the intern would be allowed to work during school breaks under the mentorship of a famous surgeon at an internationally-renowned NYC hospital. This surgeon is heavily involved in Doctors Without Borders.
The selection committee uses a precise calculus to determine the winner of the internship/scholarship. In the event of a tied score, the selection committee interviews the two candidates, and they have lunch together with the famous surgeon. (Let's give her a name. Dr. Cannon. Assume she's a placeholder character much like the pretty girl at the party. You may stand in for her if you want to.)
Johnny and Draco are meeting each other and Dr. Cannon at this lunch for the first time. The lunch is at a white-tablecloth place. Hushed music. Heavy silverware. Well-trained waiters.
They have an external conflict. Obviously. They're competing for a scholarship.
But here is your assignment. Just by being in the room together, even without the external conflict, these two will be projecting needs, values, goals, and hiding aspects of their shadow selves. Your job is to think through how they interact on this level. Consider:
-- What do they see in each other that makes each of them feel uncomfortable about themselves?
-- How do they each handle that discomfort?
-- What do they see in each other that makes each of them feel good about themselves?
-- How to they each handle those positive feelings?
-- How does the environment impact their interaction? What does it highlight about their interpersonal conflict? What do they order for their meals, and why?
-- Finally, how do they try to control their self-image to each other and to Dr. Cannon?
AFTER you've considered these questions, write the scene. But do think about the core conflicts first. Don't settle for what is easy and obvious. Dig deeper. Think it through. You might find some surprises along the way.
There are no wrong answers to an exercise like this. No two writers will handle the same core conflicts in exactly the same way. Your interpretation of character and behavior is part of what gives you a unique voice.
Theresa
By the way, Drago's story is real, except that he did not survive. Author Kate Rothwell a/k/a Summer Devon works with the women who did survive that day. Look here for photos of the sock booties they make and sell. Look here for details on ordering their handiwork. They make great holiday gifts. Just sayin.
We started with a few key pieces of external behavior and worked inward to get to his core emotional need.
We used that core emotional need to predict simple, controllable behavior.
We used that core emotional need and companion needs to demonstrate how seemingly contradictory behavior can be consistent with that character.
We examined self-image as a facet of emotional need and as a predictor of behavior.
We looked at how Johnny's desire to hide pieces of his personality might influence behavior in a common social situation with zero conflict.
And this has all been leading up to this post. Now we'll look at how to exploit core conflicts.
Meet Drago
What we haven't done yet is create a second character with an external goal which puts him in direct conflict with Johnny. Remember, the pretty party girl was not a developed character. We let you all stand in for her and imagine how you would respond to Johnny. We didn't give her her own set of needs and goals. This is why we need Drago now.
Drago is a survivor. He grew up in a region of Europe torn apart by civil war. The wars left his remote village intact for the first few years -- his village is so remote, in fact, that the communist government never could figure out how to get electricity to them. They didn't import much of anything, but they did a little bartering with neighboring villages. As a child, Drago sometimes walked the three hours through the mountains to the next village with a load of homemade cheese in a pack on his back. He enjoyed the return trip more because he could spend his time in anticipation of his village's excitement to see what he managed to get in trade for the cheese.
One day when Drago was making this trip, rebel soldiers came to his village, collected all the men and boys, and slaughtered them. Then they moved on to the next village and did the same. Drago survived only because he was on a mountain path that the soldiers didn't know about. Drago, his mother, and all the other surviving women and girls were taken in by the UN, moved to a refugee camp in another part of Europe, and eventually were settled in the US.
Drago's self-image is "survivor," and his core emotional need is justice. He wants to be a doctor because he wants to right the wrongs committed by bad men, brutal soldiers. He has watched his mother struggle to adapt to her new environment. She may have been the best cheese-maker in the mountains, but her lack of exposure to modern living has made it impossible for her to even find work as a cleaning woman. This has also made Drago hyper-protective.
Drago, Meet Johnny
Drago got a scholarship to college, and he needs a scholarship if he's going to go to med school. He and Johnny have both applied for a prestigious internship that would pay their tuition and expenses. In addition to these benefits, the intern would be allowed to work during school breaks under the mentorship of a famous surgeon at an internationally-renowned NYC hospital. This surgeon is heavily involved in Doctors Without Borders.
The selection committee uses a precise calculus to determine the winner of the internship/scholarship. In the event of a tied score, the selection committee interviews the two candidates, and they have lunch together with the famous surgeon. (Let's give her a name. Dr. Cannon. Assume she's a placeholder character much like the pretty girl at the party. You may stand in for her if you want to.)
Johnny and Draco are meeting each other and Dr. Cannon at this lunch for the first time. The lunch is at a white-tablecloth place. Hushed music. Heavy silverware. Well-trained waiters.
They have an external conflict. Obviously. They're competing for a scholarship.
But here is your assignment. Just by being in the room together, even without the external conflict, these two will be projecting needs, values, goals, and hiding aspects of their shadow selves. Your job is to think through how they interact on this level. Consider:
-- What do they see in each other that makes each of them feel uncomfortable about themselves?
-- How do they each handle that discomfort?
-- What do they see in each other that makes each of them feel good about themselves?
-- How to they each handle those positive feelings?
-- How does the environment impact their interaction? What does it highlight about their interpersonal conflict? What do they order for their meals, and why?
-- Finally, how do they try to control their self-image to each other and to Dr. Cannon?
AFTER you've considered these questions, write the scene. But do think about the core conflicts first. Don't settle for what is easy and obvious. Dig deeper. Think it through. You might find some surprises along the way.
There are no wrong answers to an exercise like this. No two writers will handle the same core conflicts in exactly the same way. Your interpretation of character and behavior is part of what gives you a unique voice.
Theresa
By the way, Drago's story is real, except that he did not survive. Author Kate Rothwell a/k/a Summer Devon works with the women who did survive that day. Look here for photos of the sock booties they make and sell. Look here for details on ordering their handiwork. They make great holiday gifts. Just sayin.
Monday, August 24, 2009
Let's continue our deconstruction of Mad Men, a/k/a the best show on television. Where episode one provided an emotional bridge back to season two, episode two sets up the coming conflicts in season three. So let's take a look at how the plates are spinning and what might make them crash. IOW, today's lesson is in how to set up the premises for conflicts and how to foreshadow coming events.
Ken Cosgrove v. Pete Campbell
The battle between Pete Campbell and Ken Cosgrove is already shaping up to be epic. Last week, we might have all thought Ken was a shoo-in. This week, we get mixed messages. First, we see Ken dominate the Patio cola meeting, surrounded by creative staff and taking command in every way. Then we see Pete, joined only by Paul and his Commie Pinko Facial Hair, flub the Madison Square Garden account meeting. Score one for Ken, right?
Not so fast. The head honchos didn't want the Madison Square Garden account, as it turned out, so Pete didn't actually lose anything. And Ken -- boyish, charming, easygoing Ken -- ran roughshod over Peggy during the meeting. Yes, they do tend to treat her badly, but Ken takes on an almost cruel edge when he attacks her objections to their creative choices. I liked Ken a lot less after that scene. He was far too condescending.
Then we have the obvious pairing of Ken and Don. Don echoes Ken's cutting remarks when Peggy presents her objections to him. I think we can read this two ways. Either we can assume that Don and Ken go together, therefore Ken will win the job in the end. (I suspect this is what the writers want us to conclude.) Or we can realize that Don's ego is too big to tolerate a clone, meaning that Ken is being set up for some conflict with Don later in the season.
I am leaning toward the second choice, both for the reasons already mentioned and because I think Pete Campbell is too vicious and ambitious to tolerate Ken getting ahead of him. I predict Pete will crush Ken, but it's going to take him some time to figure out how to do it, and he may have a few stumbles along the way. Don's going to get in on the game at some point when Ken rubs him the wrong way. Ken probably doesn't have the stamina for this kind of war. Should be interesting.
Peggy Gets It On
Okay, let me start by saying that the Anne-Margaret screeching scene was horrible to sit through. And then we had to endure a piece of it a second time, later in the episode when Don watched it. I kept wondering why the director let it drag on so long the first time, and why they repeated our exposure to it later. It seemed like overkill. Really, we get it -- the ad execs for the diet cola want something stupid in their commercials. Peggy sees how stupid it is, but the men are dazzled by what they perceive as sexy. We get it. Move on, already. Please.
But I think there's a larger point. The Anne-Margaret song is not just a prototype for an ad campaign, but a glaring example of how cultural perceptions have shifted since the Mad Men era. This particular type of infantilized female is no longer glorified as it was then. And thank god for that.
I read an article this morning about how the Anne-Margaret bit was used to propel Peggy toward discovering and accepting her own sexuality. There's certainly some truth to that. But what I find interesting is that Peggy, the most modern female in the show, reacts to Anne-Margaret's stupid flutterings just as this modern woman did. Anne-Margaret trivialized herself in that song. Peggy and I both are made somewhat squeamishly offended while watching it.
My response to the Anne-Margaret thing was to grunt and roll my eyes a lot. Peggy's was to get laid. Go, Peggy. Her way is more fun! We saw her experiment with her own sexuality in this episode -- singing in her mirror a la Anne-Margaret, stealing Joan's flirtatious line about the subway, hiding her own success to make the boy in the bar feel stronger. But in the end, she took what she wanted and then walked away. She's still the most modern woman on this show, and her flirtations are play-acting used to achieve her goal.
I expect we'll see a lot more of this type of behavior from Peggy as the season progresses. At the end of the second season, she confessed her pregnancy to Pete. Without that hanging over her head, without guilt dogging her every step, she's free to find a new path. (Anyone else notice the lack of Colin Hanks this season? He acted as Peggy's guilty conscience in season two. She doesn't need him anymore.) Peggy's arc for this season, then, promises to be one of character development, but I'm willing to bet that the stronger she gets, the more she'll take on the guys over things like that Patio cola creative. I can't wait for her to start winning a few.
Roger Is a Naughty Boy
Dude thought he could dump his middle-aged wife and marry a teenager, and everyone would just fall right into line with it. How shocked he must be to discover that women hate this kind of behavior. We haven't seen Jane the Child-Bride yet this season, but how much do you want to bet that when we do, she's no longer the wide-eyed poet version of the Anne-Margaret sexy-infant-woman? I predict she'll be trying to remake herself into a grownup. I predict demure necklines, society lunches, and a character who begins more and more to resemble Roger's first wife. And the more she resembles the first Mrs. Sterling, the less Roger will want her.
The most telling line in the Roger subplot was when his wife and daughter confronted him in his office early one weekday morning. Roger went to pour himself a second cocktail, and his ex-wife scolded him. His reply? "You're not my wife anymore." Watch that line begin to resonate over the course of the season. Without the formidable first wife to check his less noble impulses and nag him into compliance, there's no way the ineffectual second wife can hold the reins. Roger will lose interest in Jane, and then his season-one shenanigans will look like child's play.
We'll see a lot of conflict between Roger's new wife and the other women on the show -- I wonder, in particular, whether last season's battle between Joan and Jane will get a rematch. Even without that, we'll have Jane versus the daughter (great foils for each other, by the way), Jane versus the first wife, Jane versus the wives of business associates. Oh, and can you imagine how awesome a cage match between Jane and Betty would be? This is going to be good.
Don Draper, Family Man (Yeah, Right)
I can't explain why, but I find Don's position the least interesting of all those set up for us last night. So, he arranged to have Betty's senile father move in with them. So, he prevented Betty's nasty brother from glomming onto Daddy's house and all its contents. So what?
There was that beautifully poetic moment when Don was watching the maypole dance, and he played his fingers against the grass. He was watching the barefoot dance teacher, and it was clear that if his wife hadn't been there, he would have been after that teacher like a dog goes after steak. But Betty was beside him, and his only recourse was to stroke the lawn and fantasize.
How should we interpret this? Is Don going to let Betty continue to act as a check on his behavior as he tries to be a family man? He didn't do such a great job of this last week when he fooled around with that stewardess. So maybe not. I don't know, what do you all think?
Theresa
Ken Cosgrove v. Pete Campbell
The battle between Pete Campbell and Ken Cosgrove is already shaping up to be epic. Last week, we might have all thought Ken was a shoo-in. This week, we get mixed messages. First, we see Ken dominate the Patio cola meeting, surrounded by creative staff and taking command in every way. Then we see Pete, joined only by Paul and his Commie Pinko Facial Hair, flub the Madison Square Garden account meeting. Score one for Ken, right?
Not so fast. The head honchos didn't want the Madison Square Garden account, as it turned out, so Pete didn't actually lose anything. And Ken -- boyish, charming, easygoing Ken -- ran roughshod over Peggy during the meeting. Yes, they do tend to treat her badly, but Ken takes on an almost cruel edge when he attacks her objections to their creative choices. I liked Ken a lot less after that scene. He was far too condescending.
Then we have the obvious pairing of Ken and Don. Don echoes Ken's cutting remarks when Peggy presents her objections to him. I think we can read this two ways. Either we can assume that Don and Ken go together, therefore Ken will win the job in the end. (I suspect this is what the writers want us to conclude.) Or we can realize that Don's ego is too big to tolerate a clone, meaning that Ken is being set up for some conflict with Don later in the season.
I am leaning toward the second choice, both for the reasons already mentioned and because I think Pete Campbell is too vicious and ambitious to tolerate Ken getting ahead of him. I predict Pete will crush Ken, but it's going to take him some time to figure out how to do it, and he may have a few stumbles along the way. Don's going to get in on the game at some point when Ken rubs him the wrong way. Ken probably doesn't have the stamina for this kind of war. Should be interesting.
Peggy Gets It On
Okay, let me start by saying that the Anne-Margaret screeching scene was horrible to sit through. And then we had to endure a piece of it a second time, later in the episode when Don watched it. I kept wondering why the director let it drag on so long the first time, and why they repeated our exposure to it later. It seemed like overkill. Really, we get it -- the ad execs for the diet cola want something stupid in their commercials. Peggy sees how stupid it is, but the men are dazzled by what they perceive as sexy. We get it. Move on, already. Please.
But I think there's a larger point. The Anne-Margaret song is not just a prototype for an ad campaign, but a glaring example of how cultural perceptions have shifted since the Mad Men era. This particular type of infantilized female is no longer glorified as it was then. And thank god for that.
I read an article this morning about how the Anne-Margaret bit was used to propel Peggy toward discovering and accepting her own sexuality. There's certainly some truth to that. But what I find interesting is that Peggy, the most modern female in the show, reacts to Anne-Margaret's stupid flutterings just as this modern woman did. Anne-Margaret trivialized herself in that song. Peggy and I both are made somewhat squeamishly offended while watching it.
My response to the Anne-Margaret thing was to grunt and roll my eyes a lot. Peggy's was to get laid. Go, Peggy. Her way is more fun! We saw her experiment with her own sexuality in this episode -- singing in her mirror a la Anne-Margaret, stealing Joan's flirtatious line about the subway, hiding her own success to make the boy in the bar feel stronger. But in the end, she took what she wanted and then walked away. She's still the most modern woman on this show, and her flirtations are play-acting used to achieve her goal.
I expect we'll see a lot more of this type of behavior from Peggy as the season progresses. At the end of the second season, she confessed her pregnancy to Pete. Without that hanging over her head, without guilt dogging her every step, she's free to find a new path. (Anyone else notice the lack of Colin Hanks this season? He acted as Peggy's guilty conscience in season two. She doesn't need him anymore.) Peggy's arc for this season, then, promises to be one of character development, but I'm willing to bet that the stronger she gets, the more she'll take on the guys over things like that Patio cola creative. I can't wait for her to start winning a few.
Roger Is a Naughty Boy
Dude thought he could dump his middle-aged wife and marry a teenager, and everyone would just fall right into line with it. How shocked he must be to discover that women hate this kind of behavior. We haven't seen Jane the Child-Bride yet this season, but how much do you want to bet that when we do, she's no longer the wide-eyed poet version of the Anne-Margaret sexy-infant-woman? I predict she'll be trying to remake herself into a grownup. I predict demure necklines, society lunches, and a character who begins more and more to resemble Roger's first wife. And the more she resembles the first Mrs. Sterling, the less Roger will want her.
The most telling line in the Roger subplot was when his wife and daughter confronted him in his office early one weekday morning. Roger went to pour himself a second cocktail, and his ex-wife scolded him. His reply? "You're not my wife anymore." Watch that line begin to resonate over the course of the season. Without the formidable first wife to check his less noble impulses and nag him into compliance, there's no way the ineffectual second wife can hold the reins. Roger will lose interest in Jane, and then his season-one shenanigans will look like child's play.
We'll see a lot of conflict between Roger's new wife and the other women on the show -- I wonder, in particular, whether last season's battle between Joan and Jane will get a rematch. Even without that, we'll have Jane versus the daughter (great foils for each other, by the way), Jane versus the first wife, Jane versus the wives of business associates. Oh, and can you imagine how awesome a cage match between Jane and Betty would be? This is going to be good.
Don Draper, Family Man (Yeah, Right)
I can't explain why, but I find Don's position the least interesting of all those set up for us last night. So, he arranged to have Betty's senile father move in with them. So, he prevented Betty's nasty brother from glomming onto Daddy's house and all its contents. So what?
There was that beautifully poetic moment when Don was watching the maypole dance, and he played his fingers against the grass. He was watching the barefoot dance teacher, and it was clear that if his wife hadn't been there, he would have been after that teacher like a dog goes after steak. But Betty was beside him, and his only recourse was to stroke the lawn and fantasize.
How should we interpret this? Is Don going to let Betty continue to act as a check on his behavior as he tries to be a family man? He didn't do such a great job of this last week when he fooled around with that stewardess. So maybe not. I don't know, what do you all think?
Theresa
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Foiled Again!
If there's any tv show better written than Mad Men, I sure don't know about it. The writing is so controlled and so deliberate that every line resonates with nuance. The characters are beautifully drawn, too. In that Vanity Fair article Alicia linked, they described the writing as novel-like, and I think that might be why we're so drawn to it. Everything is built in layers, and the use of reversals and contrasts is almost poetically deft.
Alicia talked about how they structured the first episode of season three. Now I would like to revisit the foil technique we discussed last year when we looked at season one, episode one. They use this technique so effectively and so consistently that it's worth examining. Mad Men is truly a show not just for watching, but for studying.
Ken and Pete
Ken Cosgrove and Pete Campbell are account managers. When a British firm acquires the Sterling Cooper agency, the existing head of accounts is fired. Instead of replacing him immediately, the British financial officer splits accounts into two pieces. Ken gets one piece, and Pete gets the other.
Pete and Ken have dramatically different characters, and those character differences are highlighted in paired scenes in which each is privately told that he will be "head of accounts." Neither is told that this title will now be shared. Each thinks he has won the big prize.
So let's look at the two scenes. They're set up as foils with their intros. Pete is told that Price wants to see him, and responds, "I'm at lunch." It's a stalling tactic because he's nervous. By contrast, when Ken enters Price's office later, he breezily announces, "I heard you wanted to see me, so I had a sandwich for lunch." Lunch is not a way to delay an unpleasant meeting, but something to be concluded quickly to the meeting could commence. This intro flagged the scenes and made me pay close attention.
Pete is very tense when he enters Price's office. He thinks he is about to be fired. Instead, Price says, "I can't speak for everyone here, but I like you." This sounds to me like a pregnant line. (Pun intended, har dee har.) "Liking" Pete doesn't usually end well. Peggy liked Pete, and she ended up hiding a pregnancy and almost went insane when she had to give the baby away. Pete's wife teeters between spoiled self-indulgence and a childish yearning to return to her primary family, perhaps because she's barren, and perhaps because she's the kind of woman who would marry a guy like Pete. And remember Duck Phillips? He liked Pete, turned into an alcoholic, and lost his job.
So now here is Mr. Price, claiming to like Pete. Why would he even say that? He never echoes this sentiment when he's talking to Ken about the same promotion. It's a slightly strange thing to say, as if liking Pete is so unusual that it needs to be announced. With Ken, a guy everyone likes, no such reassurance would be necessary. I'm sure Ken assumes he's liked wherever he goes, and his friends hardly ever end up pregnant, barren, insane, drunk, or fired.
Back to Pete. When Price invites him to take a seat, Pete refuses. He insists on standing and betrays his deep anxiety over this meeting:
Price: Have a seat.
Pete: Why?
Price: Is something the matter?
Pete: You just fired the head of my department and now you're offering me a seat.
Price: How cruel of me.
By contrast, when Ken enters the same office for the same meeting, he takes a seat without being invited and lights up a smoky treat. He's casual and confident, interested but not worried. He is the anti-Pete.
When Price tells both men they're being promoted to head of accounts, their reactions are telling.
Pete: Is this really happening? I need to know it's certain.
Pete has been disappointed before, and it has made him suspicious and tense. Compare that to Ken's cheerful response.
Ken: Really? That's spectacular. Thank you!
Pete's anxiety never really leaves him when he's with other people, and it cloaks him in awkwardness through this entire scene. Only after he has left Price's office and is alone, behind his closed office door, can he give in to some celebratory feelings. He does a strange little happy dance -- one of the best moments of the entire episode, I thought -- and calls his wife to tell her the news.
During that call, he admits that he never even asked if he would get a raise. Ken, by contrast, launched right into the money talk after his cheerful thanks. Ken also shook Price's hand -- gratitude, celebration, and cementing the deal. But Pete, despite his good news, is still tense and edges out of Price's office almost without letting Price get out the word splendid. (Note that Pete immediately echoes this word, though, when talking to his secretary.)
Sal and Don
Sal (the closeted homosexual) and Don (the antihero protagonist) go to Baltimore together to schmooze the London Fog account. While en route, they strike up a conversation with a stewardess and, after a dinner and drinks scene, Don ends up taking one of the stewardesses back to his room. (He's such a whore, and he obviously hasn't learned his lesson after last season, but that's another issue.)
Sal goes back to his room. There is some intercutting between Sal's room and Don's room. They're played off each other a little bit. Sal flops on the bed, alone, then calls the front desk to get his air conditioner repaired. Don sits on the edge of his bed, not alone, and eggs the stewardess on as she strips for him. Their rooms are stacked on top of each other, separated by a floor or two.
Both men are the seducees, rather than the seducers. When the bellhop (a young man) kisses Sal, Sal nearly comes apart with yearning and terror. Don, by contrast, is very easy with his role as passion's victim. But then, he should be. He's had a lot of practice.
The stewardess peels off her jacket and blouse. The bellhop removes his jacket. Both Don and Sal give in. We know they're not holding anything back.
But then, a fire alarm sounds. Don reacts instantly, throwing clothes at the stewardess and leading her out the window to the fire escape. Sal is confused, though. It takes him a moment to recognize the sound, and then, his disappointment in the lost opportunity is so palpable that we almost wish he would ignore the alarm and take his one opportunity now, before it evaporates.
Yes, this is Sal's only such opportunity for hanky-panky to date. Contrast that with Don't line to the stewardess after she has confessed she's engaged and this might be her last chance to dally: "Believe me, there are plenty of chances."
As Don and the stewardess are darting down the fire escape, Don pauses at Sal's window and knocks to warn him about the fire. He sees the bellhop with his jacket off. Sal also sees the half-clothed stewardess, but this somehow is never an issue. (Why? It's obvious, right?)
In the street, as the firemen are putting out the blaze, the stewardess clings to Don, and the bellhop abandons Sal. Also note that Don's bare feet get a good flash on the screen. We know Sal is still wearing his shoes, though.
Are there any other details that support these pairings? Let's talk about them! If you haven't already seen this episode, by the way, it's available on demand if you're with Comcast. And I'm pretty sure AMC will repeat it on Sunday before they air episode 2. That was their pattern last year, if I remember right.
Theresa
Alicia talked about how they structured the first episode of season three. Now I would like to revisit the foil technique we discussed last year when we looked at season one, episode one. They use this technique so effectively and so consistently that it's worth examining. Mad Men is truly a show not just for watching, but for studying.
Ken and Pete
Ken Cosgrove and Pete Campbell are account managers. When a British firm acquires the Sterling Cooper agency, the existing head of accounts is fired. Instead of replacing him immediately, the British financial officer splits accounts into two pieces. Ken gets one piece, and Pete gets the other.
Pete and Ken have dramatically different characters, and those character differences are highlighted in paired scenes in which each is privately told that he will be "head of accounts." Neither is told that this title will now be shared. Each thinks he has won the big prize.
So let's look at the two scenes. They're set up as foils with their intros. Pete is told that Price wants to see him, and responds, "I'm at lunch." It's a stalling tactic because he's nervous. By contrast, when Ken enters Price's office later, he breezily announces, "I heard you wanted to see me, so I had a sandwich for lunch." Lunch is not a way to delay an unpleasant meeting, but something to be concluded quickly to the meeting could commence. This intro flagged the scenes and made me pay close attention.
Pete is very tense when he enters Price's office. He thinks he is about to be fired. Instead, Price says, "I can't speak for everyone here, but I like you." This sounds to me like a pregnant line. (Pun intended, har dee har.) "Liking" Pete doesn't usually end well. Peggy liked Pete, and she ended up hiding a pregnancy and almost went insane when she had to give the baby away. Pete's wife teeters between spoiled self-indulgence and a childish yearning to return to her primary family, perhaps because she's barren, and perhaps because she's the kind of woman who would marry a guy like Pete. And remember Duck Phillips? He liked Pete, turned into an alcoholic, and lost his job.
So now here is Mr. Price, claiming to like Pete. Why would he even say that? He never echoes this sentiment when he's talking to Ken about the same promotion. It's a slightly strange thing to say, as if liking Pete is so unusual that it needs to be announced. With Ken, a guy everyone likes, no such reassurance would be necessary. I'm sure Ken assumes he's liked wherever he goes, and his friends hardly ever end up pregnant, barren, insane, drunk, or fired.
Back to Pete. When Price invites him to take a seat, Pete refuses. He insists on standing and betrays his deep anxiety over this meeting:
Price: Have a seat.
Pete: Why?
Price: Is something the matter?
Pete: You just fired the head of my department and now you're offering me a seat.
Price: How cruel of me.
By contrast, when Ken enters the same office for the same meeting, he takes a seat without being invited and lights up a smoky treat. He's casual and confident, interested but not worried. He is the anti-Pete.
When Price tells both men they're being promoted to head of accounts, their reactions are telling.
Pete: Is this really happening? I need to know it's certain.
Pete has been disappointed before, and it has made him suspicious and tense. Compare that to Ken's cheerful response.
Ken: Really? That's spectacular. Thank you!
Pete's anxiety never really leaves him when he's with other people, and it cloaks him in awkwardness through this entire scene. Only after he has left Price's office and is alone, behind his closed office door, can he give in to some celebratory feelings. He does a strange little happy dance -- one of the best moments of the entire episode, I thought -- and calls his wife to tell her the news.
During that call, he admits that he never even asked if he would get a raise. Ken, by contrast, launched right into the money talk after his cheerful thanks. Ken also shook Price's hand -- gratitude, celebration, and cementing the deal. But Pete, despite his good news, is still tense and edges out of Price's office almost without letting Price get out the word splendid. (Note that Pete immediately echoes this word, though, when talking to his secretary.)
Sal and Don
Sal (the closeted homosexual) and Don (the antihero protagonist) go to Baltimore together to schmooze the London Fog account. While en route, they strike up a conversation with a stewardess and, after a dinner and drinks scene, Don ends up taking one of the stewardesses back to his room. (He's such a whore, and he obviously hasn't learned his lesson after last season, but that's another issue.)
Sal goes back to his room. There is some intercutting between Sal's room and Don's room. They're played off each other a little bit. Sal flops on the bed, alone, then calls the front desk to get his air conditioner repaired. Don sits on the edge of his bed, not alone, and eggs the stewardess on as she strips for him. Their rooms are stacked on top of each other, separated by a floor or two.
Both men are the seducees, rather than the seducers. When the bellhop (a young man) kisses Sal, Sal nearly comes apart with yearning and terror. Don, by contrast, is very easy with his role as passion's victim. But then, he should be. He's had a lot of practice.
The stewardess peels off her jacket and blouse. The bellhop removes his jacket. Both Don and Sal give in. We know they're not holding anything back.
But then, a fire alarm sounds. Don reacts instantly, throwing clothes at the stewardess and leading her out the window to the fire escape. Sal is confused, though. It takes him a moment to recognize the sound, and then, his disappointment in the lost opportunity is so palpable that we almost wish he would ignore the alarm and take his one opportunity now, before it evaporates.
Yes, this is Sal's only such opportunity for hanky-panky to date. Contrast that with Don't line to the stewardess after she has confessed she's engaged and this might be her last chance to dally: "Believe me, there are plenty of chances."
As Don and the stewardess are darting down the fire escape, Don pauses at Sal's window and knocks to warn him about the fire. He sees the bellhop with his jacket off. Sal also sees the half-clothed stewardess, but this somehow is never an issue. (Why? It's obvious, right?)
In the street, as the firemen are putting out the blaze, the stewardess clings to Don, and the bellhop abandons Sal. Also note that Don's bare feet get a good flash on the screen. We know Sal is still wearing his shoes, though.
Are there any other details that support these pairings? Let's talk about them! If you haven't already seen this episode, by the way, it's available on demand if you're with Comcast. And I'm pretty sure AMC will repeat it on Sunday before they air episode 2. That was their pattern last year, if I remember right.
Theresa
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Foils in Mad Men
Setting: at the front door.
Time: late night
Our man Don Draper approaches the door somewhat sluggishly. He's had a long day at work, and it shows in the way he moves. All around him, the world is asleep. On the other side of the door, his woman waits for him, but she doesn't know he's coming. He hasn't bothered to warn her.
Which scene in episode one did I just describe? Actually, two. This exact same setup repeats itself in two scenes -- first when Don goes to see his mistress, Midge, and later when he goes home.
This is a useful technique for setting up foils. We start by recognizing the similarities between these two situations, and then the differences start to become apparent. So let's examine some of these differences.
Midge's front door is green and the paint is badly chipped.
Betty's front door is gleaming red and perfectly maintained.
If you haven't already watched the episode, pay special attention to the look on Midge's face when she opens the door to let Don in. It's very subtle, very well acted. Her first reaction when she sees Don is not one of pleasure. She is surprised. Maybe a little dismayed. She does smile, after two heartbeats have passed, and her smile holds a question: why are you here?
She says, "You weren't worried about waking me, were you?"
Contrast that to Betty’s response. She is in bed. She wakes up and sits up and says she called the office and thought he would be staying in the city. Betty is also surprised to see him. As did Midge, Betty also uses words that could be interpreted as a reproach. But the look on her face is placid and accepting. She is the dutiful wife, while Midge is the saucy mistress.
And what does our man Don Draper do next? He talks to the woman. With Midge, he whines about his workday. He can't think of a slogan for his new ad campaign. He claims Pete Campbell comes into his office and sizes the place up to figure oout where to put his own plants when Don gets fired. He predicts that the junior executives will soon be picking the meat off his ribs. Midge responds by attempting to tease him out of his bad mood. He doesn't get much sympathy from her.
And what do he and Betty talk about? Dinner. The kids. Domestic trivialities, the kind that can provide a lot of comfort in life but aren't all that exciting.
The first scene is a late-night booty call, and the second is a homecoming. Midge gives him excitement. Betty gives him stability. Midge gives him sex, and Betty gives him dinner.
What other similarities and differences did you spot when you were watching these scenes? Do you see any significance in any of the details?
Using foils accomplishes a lot of goals. First, contrast heightens the feeling of drama. It keeps the reader alert. It helps them distinguish between different characters and situations, and it lends a little extra sizzle to those differences. We understand that drama is born of conflict, and conflict is born of differences. Foils help us in that quest.
Foils also help the reader get a better handle on situations and characters by providing high contrast. Even when there is no overt conflict, it's easier to follow along when there are marked differences. I'm reminded of Michael Scott from The Office, who, when confronted with two Japanese waitresses, writes with magic marker on the arm of one so that he can tell them apart. When Midge's hair is sloppy and she's dressed in a man's shirt, and Betty's hair is perfectly groomed even when she's in bed, we can see very easily the differences between these two women. Midge can change her wig, and Betty can get out of bed, and we will still be able to tell them apart.
But foils also provide a very subtle place for us to establish theme and subtext. What are the unstated messages that we can take away from these two scenes when we pair them?
One. Don Draper expects his women to admit him into the home, regardless of the time. He doesn't need to give them advance warning, and he approaches them with a sense of entitlement. Although Midge tells him right away that she's up because she's working, he doesn't even seem to think twice about interrupting her. And although Betty was sleeping, she snaps right until wife mode and tries to feed him and watches him tenderly as he ruffles the hair of their sleeping children. We get the impression that no matter where he goes, he expects people to jump to do his bidding, and he gets his way. Regardless of the manor, he is the lord.
Two. Don Draper keeps his wife and family sequestered in the country. Although he approaches them with genuine affection, they are clearly cut off from the rest of his life. He enters their world, but they do not enter his. He treats the different aspects of his life as a child treats his dinner plate: you can't let the mashed potatoes touch the peas, or bad things will happen. Home seems to function both as a refuge and as a place of last resort.
Three. Why, then, is it okay for Don Draper to talk to his mistress about his job? Shouldn't these two aspects also be compartmentalized? In fact, I think there's something else going on here. Two things. First, we're still trying to establish that Don Draper is committed to his work. Second, notice that Midge also talks about her work -- drawing puppies for a greeting card campaign for grandmothers' day. But where she talks, Don talks and talks and talks. He barely even responds to anything she says. His behavior in this scene is self-obsessed. So I think the purpose here is twofold, and it doesn't have anything to do with the compartmentalization of his life.
Four. You tell me. What else can you discern from comparing these two scenes? What are the underlying messages?
Theresa
Time: late night
Our man Don Draper approaches the door somewhat sluggishly. He's had a long day at work, and it shows in the way he moves. All around him, the world is asleep. On the other side of the door, his woman waits for him, but she doesn't know he's coming. He hasn't bothered to warn her.
Which scene in episode one did I just describe? Actually, two. This exact same setup repeats itself in two scenes -- first when Don goes to see his mistress, Midge, and later when he goes home.
This is a useful technique for setting up foils. We start by recognizing the similarities between these two situations, and then the differences start to become apparent. So let's examine some of these differences.
Midge's front door is green and the paint is badly chipped.
Betty's front door is gleaming red and perfectly maintained.
If you haven't already watched the episode, pay special attention to the look on Midge's face when she opens the door to let Don in. It's very subtle, very well acted. Her first reaction when she sees Don is not one of pleasure. She is surprised. Maybe a little dismayed. She does smile, after two heartbeats have passed, and her smile holds a question: why are you here?
She says, "You weren't worried about waking me, were you?"
Contrast that to Betty’s response. She is in bed. She wakes up and sits up and says she called the office and thought he would be staying in the city. Betty is also surprised to see him. As did Midge, Betty also uses words that could be interpreted as a reproach. But the look on her face is placid and accepting. She is the dutiful wife, while Midge is the saucy mistress.
And what does our man Don Draper do next? He talks to the woman. With Midge, he whines about his workday. He can't think of a slogan for his new ad campaign. He claims Pete Campbell comes into his office and sizes the place up to figure oout where to put his own plants when Don gets fired. He predicts that the junior executives will soon be picking the meat off his ribs. Midge responds by attempting to tease him out of his bad mood. He doesn't get much sympathy from her.
And what do he and Betty talk about? Dinner. The kids. Domestic trivialities, the kind that can provide a lot of comfort in life but aren't all that exciting.
The first scene is a late-night booty call, and the second is a homecoming. Midge gives him excitement. Betty gives him stability. Midge gives him sex, and Betty gives him dinner.
What other similarities and differences did you spot when you were watching these scenes? Do you see any significance in any of the details?
Using foils accomplishes a lot of goals. First, contrast heightens the feeling of drama. It keeps the reader alert. It helps them distinguish between different characters and situations, and it lends a little extra sizzle to those differences. We understand that drama is born of conflict, and conflict is born of differences. Foils help us in that quest.
Foils also help the reader get a better handle on situations and characters by providing high contrast. Even when there is no overt conflict, it's easier to follow along when there are marked differences. I'm reminded of Michael Scott from The Office, who, when confronted with two Japanese waitresses, writes with magic marker on the arm of one so that he can tell them apart. When Midge's hair is sloppy and she's dressed in a man's shirt, and Betty's hair is perfectly groomed even when she's in bed, we can see very easily the differences between these two women. Midge can change her wig, and Betty can get out of bed, and we will still be able to tell them apart.
But foils also provide a very subtle place for us to establish theme and subtext. What are the unstated messages that we can take away from these two scenes when we pair them?
One. Don Draper expects his women to admit him into the home, regardless of the time. He doesn't need to give them advance warning, and he approaches them with a sense of entitlement. Although Midge tells him right away that she's up because she's working, he doesn't even seem to think twice about interrupting her. And although Betty was sleeping, she snaps right until wife mode and tries to feed him and watches him tenderly as he ruffles the hair of their sleeping children. We get the impression that no matter where he goes, he expects people to jump to do his bidding, and he gets his way. Regardless of the manor, he is the lord.
Two. Don Draper keeps his wife and family sequestered in the country. Although he approaches them with genuine affection, they are clearly cut off from the rest of his life. He enters their world, but they do not enter his. He treats the different aspects of his life as a child treats his dinner plate: you can't let the mashed potatoes touch the peas, or bad things will happen. Home seems to function both as a refuge and as a place of last resort.
Three. Why, then, is it okay for Don Draper to talk to his mistress about his job? Shouldn't these two aspects also be compartmentalized? In fact, I think there's something else going on here. Two things. First, we're still trying to establish that Don Draper is committed to his work. Second, notice that Midge also talks about her work -- drawing puppies for a greeting card campaign for grandmothers' day. But where she talks, Don talks and talks and talks. He barely even responds to anything she says. His behavior in this scene is self-obsessed. So I think the purpose here is twofold, and it doesn't have anything to do with the compartmentalization of his life.
Four. You tell me. What else can you discern from comparing these two scenes? What are the underlying messages?
Theresa
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Your Mission, Should You Choose to Accept It
I re-watched the first episode of season one of Mad Men (available here), and I've talked to a couple people behind the scenes about it, and my conclusion is that we really ought to talk about this one. So if you haven't already seen this, you might want to go to AMCs website and watch the first episode. It's about 45 minutes long, and it is textbook. The writing is absolutely brilliant.
After you have watched it, I want you to give some thought to two issues. Neither one of these issues has much to do with Don Draper as an antihero, but they have a lot to do with the kind of critical thinking we need to do in our analysis of Don's antiheroic nature.
Topic One: Foils
Take a closer look at this scene in the early part of the episode when Don pays a visit to his mistress. Then take a look at the final scene when Don returns home to his wife. How do these scenes act as foils of each other? No detail is too small to be worthy of attention. These scenes are very carefully orchestrated.
Topic Two: Dissemblance
Poor Salvatore. It must be hell to be a closeted homosexual in this environment. Watch the way his character interacts with the world around him, paying particular attention to the things he does that give him away, and the things he does to hide his true nature.
I'm going to give you a day or two to watch it and think it over, and then we're going to use these ideas as a springboard into an analysis of Don Draper's character. You really only need to see the first episode if you want to play along, but I caution you: if you watch the first one, you just might want to watch the rest.
After you have watched it, I want you to give some thought to two issues. Neither one of these issues has much to do with Don Draper as an antihero, but they have a lot to do with the kind of critical thinking we need to do in our analysis of Don's antiheroic nature.
Topic One: Foils
Take a closer look at this scene in the early part of the episode when Don pays a visit to his mistress. Then take a look at the final scene when Don returns home to his wife. How do these scenes act as foils of each other? No detail is too small to be worthy of attention. These scenes are very carefully orchestrated.
Topic Two: Dissemblance
Poor Salvatore. It must be hell to be a closeted homosexual in this environment. Watch the way his character interacts with the world around him, paying particular attention to the things he does that give him away, and the things he does to hide his true nature.
I'm going to give you a day or two to watch it and think it over, and then we're going to use these ideas as a springboard into an analysis of Don Draper's character. You really only need to see the first episode if you want to play along, but I caution you: if you watch the first one, you just might want to watch the rest.
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