Do it for Johnny - 3 Act Structure in The Outsiders

The three act structure of Hollywood, based on the classical dramatic or tragic structure, is a common approach to filmmaking and involves a basic beginning, middle, and end (or an introduction, complication, and resolution). This is the typical model Hollywood films tend to follow and one such film that exemplifies this is Francis Ford Coppola's The Outsiders.

The Outsiders follows this three act structure almost exactly. The opening 25 minutes or so of the film begins literally with the introductions of each character in the ensemble cast, works to illustrate the setting the story is taking place in, and sets up what will lead to the main conflict, which is the rivalry between the North side "greasers" and the South side "Socs"(more simply put as the poor kids versus the rich kids). At the end of this act, after everything has been well set up, the first major plot point happens, as is usual of the three act structure. At this point, the greaser-Soc rivalry comes to a head, resulting in the death of one particularly brutal Soc at the hands of a greaser and main character, Johnny. This action transitions from "introduction" to "complication" and brings us to the next act. The stakes are raised and this asks the question, what are they going to do now? which the second act is meant to answer.

After this plot point, the story moves on to the second act, which lasts for another 30-40 minutes. It is during this act that the complication continues. Johnny and his friend (and protagonist), Ponyboy, flee their city with the help of another friend and hide out in an abandoned church to avoid the trouble waiting for them back home. However, while they are away for a short time, they return to the church to find it set on fire with a group of schoolchildren trapped inside. At this point, Ponyboy and Johnny rush in to save the kids from a fire they feel responsible for, but Johnny becomes badly burned and breaks his back during the rescue. He ends up in the hospital, and the greasers begin to plan a "rumble" with the Socs to settle their score once and for all. This again raises the stakes and leaves us wondering how everything will turn out, and this question transitions us from second act to the the third act, or the complication to the resolution, as well as the climax.

The final 20 minutes of the film presents the resolution for everything that has happened thus far. The greasers go on to triumphantly win the rumble in honor of Johnny, but immediately after this come to find that he has died. Johnny's death causes another character close to Johnny, Dallas Winston, to commit suicide. These tragic deaths create the climax and are what makes the rest of the third act a falling action, which will answer the question of where we go from here. Here, we are left wondering what will happen to Ponyboy, who is facing criminal charges, and we are also looking for what we can learn from this all. In the end, everything is clearly resolved as this Hollywood three act structures prefers - Ponyboy is acquitted of all charges, and a letter Johnny had written to Ponyboy reminds us that "there's still a lot of good in the world," and of course to "stay gold."

Ultimately, despite the tragedy the climax presents us with, The Outsiders has the happy/hopeful ending a classic three act structure is meant to have, and this film very well fits the mold of the three act structure.

Sitcoms

Television shows are generally narrated through one of two formats: episodic or serial. However, sitcoms are most often episodic. Several characteristics of sitcoms are associated with episodic narration. Each episode is usually meant to teach one particular lesson, where a character will raise a question and receive an answer within the 22-minute timeframe of a sitcom. Most episodes will not extend into the next week; each episode will be its own complete story, which can stand on its own apart from the series. This leads to predictability and the audience is familiar with how each episode will play out before watching it. In general, there is no great character arc throughout an entire sitcom series — the characters are stagnant and sometimes never even age or progress through life or school. This allows many sitcoms to be not only funny, but also rather absurd. Characters are put into strange and unrealistic situations, and by the next episode these happenings are ‘forgotten.’ This is the formula for most sitcoms, both animated and live-action.

One sitcom that exemplifies this episodic narrative strategy is the animated series Family Guy. Each episode of this show stands apart from the series as a whole, in which one entire plot will begin and finish and what took place in a particular episode will not be mentioned again in succeeding shows. An example of one of these episodes in one entitled “Road to Rupert” in which two of the show’s main characters, Stewie, a talking baby, and Brian, a talking dog, set off on a cross-country road trip to find Stewie’s lost teddy bear. Throughout this trip, they encounter a myriad of odd people and end up in several crazily unrealistic situations, only to end up safely back at home by the last minutes of the episode, no questions asked. In the following episode, these events will not be referred back to or even remembered, and the audience knows and expects this. It is all part of the episodic formula in which episodes do not connect to form a developing plot. Because of this, the characters never experience any real change.  Every week, the viewer can expect to see Peter Griffin in his white button-down and green pants, sitting in a bar with his friends Joe, Cleveland, and Quagmire; Stewie in his red overalls, planning the murder of his mother and takeover of the world; Brian the dog womanizing and drinking; Meg at the butt of every joke, etc. They never age and rarely, if ever, do things in their lives change.  Family Guy, like many sitcoms, never amounts to much more than any one episode. 

Shot Progression and Camera Angles in The Lion King

In lecture on Monday, Professor Ramirez-Berg discussed the shot progression that directors use in films and the denotative meanings of those shots, as well as the connotative implications of the directors’ chosen camera angles.

Specifically, the professor spoke of the connotation of power in a variety of shots: eye level, low angle, and high angle. These are similar to the long shot, medium shot, and close up. The eye level shot is power “neutral” and usually considered an identification shot, while the low angle gives power to a subject and a high angle shot takes power away. This is how filmmakers generally take advantage of the different camera angles; however, some directors have been known to use the various shots ironically (for example, using a low angle to limit power of a subject) or in unpredictable ways (such as changing the normal shot progression or holding a particular shot, like the close up, for a long period of time, omitting the rest). These angles are used in all films, including animation. One example of a film that uses these shots in aesthetically beautiful ways is Disney’s The Lion King.

In this film, one particularly dramatic and action-packed scene involves the young lion cub, Simba, faced with the peril of a sudden incoming stampede of wildebeests. In this scene, the filmmakers animate a classic array of shots and angles to illustrate the progression of the situation.

First, we have a close-up of the character, Simba.

Close-ups are meant to convey feelings and emotion, and here the viewer can easily see that Simba is feeling a combination of shock and fear, which work to foreshadow what is coming next.

A low-angle shot of the wildebeests rushing toward him.

In this shot, the viewer (and Simba) is lower than the oncoming “traffic” here and thus, less powerful. The wildebeests are the subjects given all the power as an invading force: they are up above, towering over everything else, while we are below and much weaker. This combined with the previous close up expresses the imminent peril of terror.

We then have a higher angle shot of Simba clinging to a tree branch for safety.

Although it is not as extreme of an angle as the previous two, it still works to convey the loss or lack of Simba’s power in this situation. The “camera” is above him, limiting his power, and the obvious look of fear on his face in this medium shot (which is an information shot) communicates this even further.

This is just one scene from the film that uses a combination of many shots and angles to create a clear message; many more examples of these shot progressions and camera angles can be found throughout The Lion King, and they all work to produce an enthralling movie. 

The Studio System of Classical Hollywood

Several major factors contributed to the intricate design of the classical Hollywood studio system. All aspects of film, from the production to the exhibition, were controlled by Hollywood studios, which created a large and demanding oligopoly of a few powerful studios. Contracted talent is one facet of the production side of the studio system. Today, directors and actors are largely their own free agents, working only a few big projects a year, and picking and choosing which projects they are passionate about, but studios in the 1930s and ‘40s had complete control of their ‘talent.’ Studios had actors, directors, editors, and writers contracted in a factory system so that they could be forced into doing any project, and as many projects, as the studio willed. Directors, who today generally make only one or two feature films every few years, could be contracted to direct up to 3-5 films, and actors could be slated to star dozens every year. This created incredibly large filmographies for actors in the classical era as compared to actors today. In addition to being contracted under one particular studio, the ‘talent’ could be, in a sense, loaned out to other production studios to star in or direct even more films. Work in Hollywood at this time could be never-ending for big stars like Humphrey Bogart and Judy Garland, and directors such as Michael Curtiz.

Because Hollywood was churning out films and putting casts and crews on many films every year, many of the films that came out during this golden era had strange and fragmented storylines, poor acting and direction, and were considered ‘B movies.’ Directors, actors, etc., had no input on the plot of whichever film they happened to be making and these movies were more often than not being filmed as it was lighted.

Contracting talent like this caused many films to go through dozens of writers before a film was made, and some even went through rewrites throughout the duration of filming.  This caused scripts of the day to have no real author, and as a result, many movies became quite jumbled, with aspects of the plots confusing or unknown to the audience, and perhaps even to the actors reciting the lines.  An example of this is the 1942 film Casablanca, which gives credit to three writers (who originally adapted it from a play), yet went through many more writers and rewrites — so many that it was in a race to keep up with the pace of actual production and filming. In addition to this, the director, Michael Curtiz, was given little to no input in the formation of the film, and thus was receiving the story essentially as he filmed it, which caused some effects of the film to be rather melodramatic. The acting, as well, could be seen as melodramatic or stiff, perhaps due to the actors never knowing exactly where their characters were going or how the plot would end. Despite all these inconsistencies, however, Casablanca has gone on to become one of the most beloved movies in the world; however, this is an exception. The studio, the directors, and the actors, and the production team went into the film not expecting to be making anything particularly important. It was simply another movie being churned out by Warner Bros. It may even be that people love this film because it can be so odd and inconsistent at times. But, in the end, whether it is loved or hated, this film, as well as many more like it, is the product of a studio system that involved an assembly line style creation, loaned out stars, and an ‘authorless’ script, all of which are characteristic of the “Golden Age” of film. 

The 70s v. "The 70s"

I don’t watch many contemporary sitcoms. I am a big fan of reruns, however; comedies of the 1970s, and ‘80s are my favorites. This is probably why I also quite enjoy That ‘70s Show, a program set in the decade of the 1970s with several differences and similarities to All in the Family.

As That ‘70s Show was set in the same era as All in the Family was filmed (the ‘70s, not the ‘60s, Prof. Straubhaar), these two shows do share certain similarities. For one, there is the cast of characters in the two shows’ respective families: Archie Bunker and Red Forman, the stern, conservative fathers; Edith and Kitty, the kooky mothers; Michael and Eric, the smart-alecky ‘sons’; and finally, Gloria and Laurie, the blonde and beautiful daughters. These characters seem to create and react to various situations in comparable ways. In the episode of All in the Family that we screened on Thursday, Archie perpetually berates Michael for having a “fag” friend; on frequent occasions in episodes of That ‘70s Show, Red makes jokes about gay people, referring to one as a “fruitcake.” Like Michael to Archie in AitF, Eric will frequently stand up or talk to back to Red, who will, in turn, refer to him as something demeaning (Archie: “meathead”; Red: “dumbass”). Throughout these antics, Edith and Kitty are always around to say something silly and perhaps even dimwitted, both in oddly shrill voices that became their trademarks.

Many differences are apparent in these two shows, as well. Dissimilarities between T70sS and AitF in language use are likely quite surprising to the modern, young viewer— perhaps due to standards television is upheld to today that it wasn’t in the 1970s. One shocker is Archie Bunker’s frivolous use of the word “fag” — a word bleeped out on television today. That ‘70s Show does use quite a bit more ‘foul’ language than All in the Family, but “fag” today is largely considered a ‘buzz’ word — something that is simply not allowed on a modern sitcom.  Perhaps in this respect, All in the Family dealt with homophobia in a very straightforward way that That ‘70s Show was not capable of. As I haven’t watched All in the Family much outside of Thursday’s screening, I cannot honestly say whether or not That ‘70s Show tackled issues that All in the Family didn’t, but I would suggest that it is likely, as unlike the older show, T70sS was not considered “edgy” by 1990s-2000s standards, and so would be able to address certain topics without as dramatic a reaction from viewers that AitF likely received at times.

Ultimately, these two shows do seem to follow a basic formula that most sitcoms, past and present, tend to follow. Hilarity ensuing between families in otherwise ‘everyday’ situations is an aspect of sitcoms that gets real-life families to sit down for a half-hour together every night and enjoy. Naturally, the shows are not identical, but they do follow an outline that works. 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tj_bgxAkGpU