Great writing is a balancing act of interwoven, unifying elements. That is, points at which the story gains coherence, when things truly start to “come together.” The marriage between protagonist and motivation is once such element; the interplay between “obstacle” and “quest” is another. Structurally speaking, the most unifying element of a screenplay may in fact be its geographic center, located around the sixty-something page count and commonly referred to as “the midpoint.” In Blake Snyder’s classic book Save the Cat, he describes midpoint as an interval in the story where the stakes are raised; that is, where the enormity of the task confronting your protagonist is fully revealed.
One problem with crafting a midpoint in a script is that “middles” don’t garner much attention or fanfare. Nobody ever leaves a movie theater raving about the midpoint—they talk about endings, they rhapsodize about an opening set piece. But the center, the crest of your second act usually passes under an audience’s radar. It’s as if the better it works, the less important it seems. But just because middles go unacknowledged doesn’t mean they’re expendable, or even easy to write.
The midpoint represents—at least for me—a swampy nether space that resides smack in the middle of what had been a fully engaging and (possibly) even joyous writing experience. If you’re like me, you may find that by the time your reach “the sixties” you may have crafted your very best action sequences. The first half of your script may feature your sharpest dialogue, your most inspired imagery, your most deftly integrated story beats. Enthusiasm always translates to the page, and (again, if you’re like me) you sense a flagging of enthusiasm when you pause to consider that you are only halfway home.
So what’s the remedy here—other than drugs and alcohol? Blake Snyder advocates presenting your protagonist with either a false peak (e.g. an “up” midpoint), or a false collapse (a “down” midpoint). In both instances, the stakes are raised for the hero. The midpoint could also be regarded as the last vestige of “setup” in your story. All major characters have been ushered onstage. The scope of the conflict is fully manifest. To borrow a metaphor from the world of chess: All of the pawns have been ejected from the board and we’re now playing with rooks and knights and bishops.
Although Snyder’s template is extremely helpful, I have found that your choice of genre can expand and inform how you handle midpoint. But first, let’s look at some prominent examples of both the “ups” and the “downs,” from false peaks to false collapses.
These categories are broad with each containing any number of variants. Genre can influence how you craft a midpoint, as well. For instance if you’re writing a “closed” mystery (that is, the audience knows only what they protagonist knows), then instead of a false collapse or a false victory, the protagonist is handed a kind of treasure map. He or she obtains just enough information to realize what they don’t yet know. I call this midpoint the “Our true enemy has not yet shown his face”; a line of Sonny Corleone’s cribbed from The Godfather, Part III. Here are some examples of films that used this technique:
In romances and romantic comedies, there often appears a midpoint variation of false victory that is instantly followed an emotional nadir; a dark and deep pessimism about the lovers’ prospects for happily-ever-after. I call this…
And lastly, there exists a kind of free-form, anti-narrative midpoint in some movies that causes you to leave the theater shaking your head in bewilderment. The story may take a darker turn, it may be part revelation, part misdirection. I call these instances…
The imperative in crafting your midpoint is that your protagonist experience one of two things: 1.) A revelation that suggests a far greater obstacle looming on the horizon, or 2.) a false something; either a false peak or a false debacle that propels the narrative toward resolution. Notice that in both of these instances the stakes are raised—or at least, they should be. Don’t dwell on the notion that you’ve got half a movie to go. Don’t despair that you may have expended yourself in writing your best dialogue, your best action set pieces, etc. Rather, take comfort in the idea that if you do midpoints well, the audience may not even notice. MM
This post originally appeared on the blog ScreenCraft. ScreenCraft is dedicated to helping screenwriters and filmmakers succeed through educational events, screenwriting competitions and the annual ScreenCraft Screenwriting Fellowship program, connecting screenwriters with agents, managers and Hollywood producers. Follow ScreenCraft on Twitter, Facebook, and YouTube.
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Invaluable illumination into the "how" of screenwriting for a newbie like myself. Thank you!