The All is Lost moment in any story tends to come around 3/4 of the way through. It paves the way for one final attempt to solve the main overall story problem that we and the main character have been focusing on.
It’s not just a point in the story where a bunch of bad stuff happens, and where there’s a “whiff of death,” as Blake Snyder put it in Save the Cat (which gave us the terms “All is Lost moment” and “Dark Night of the Soul” in his 15-point screenplay “beat sheet”).
But that’s a common thing I see in scripts I read as a consultant — the “bunch of bad stuff” approach. Writers seem to understand that things need to kind of fall apart for the main character at this point, and that the ending which follows needs to have some sort of big climactic battle.
But the All is Lost moment in the best scripts tends to be much more than just “many bad things.” There’s something more fundamental about this point in a story that many scripts miss:
It’s the moment of absolute and seemingly permanent defeat in the undertaking that the whole story has been focused on, up to this point.
It all comes down to what the main problem of the story is. So much of what matters in screenwriting does, which is why my book The Idea (and a lot of my work with writers on their ideas and stories) focuses on the nature of that problem, and what it needs to look like in order to have the best chance at becoming a really compelling story.
Generally we set up one big outcome that the audience is supposed to be emotionally invested in the main character achieving, by the end of a story. Ideally it’s one that is incredibly difficult to achieve and has very high stakes. This means external life situations and not just internal emotional or psychological difficulties (which do have their place, but not as the main story problem).
We like to watch our main character, who we so relate to that we almost become them, to suffer and struggle and mostly fail, throughout the second act. Even in the first half of it, which Save the Cat called the “Fun and Games section.” (A term I regret because it implies things should be going easily and well throughout it.)
What seems to work best is when the main character makes some progress but is mostly running into conflicts and complications throughout act two, keeping their hoped-for objective out of reach, despite the fact that they are actively trying to move toward it in pretty much every scene.
Very often the scripts I read don’t quite achieve that. And the All is Lost moment isn’t able to do what I think it was designed to do: represent the culmination of all this difficulty and hell we’ve put the main character through, as a kind of apotheosis of pain and struggle (yes, even in a comedy!), where they not only suffer a string of setbacks but an actual complete defeat in the one thing they’ve been spending the whole movie trying to do.
What does complete defeat look like?
It looks like the story is over, and the “good guys” (who we’ve been following) have lost.
To be most effective, the All is Lost moment creates a scenario so devastating, and is such a complete stopping point, that it makes sense that it’s followed by a Dark Night of the Soul section where the main character recognizes that it’s over, and that they’re defeated, and kind of reels from this, marinating in their hopelessness. Like Ron Burgundy in Anchorman getting fired after his scandalous on-air send-off, his beloved San Diegans now hating him, and his rival and ex-girlfriend taking his job. Or Luke Skywalker seeing Darth Vader kill Obi-Wan Kenobi in Star Wars. Or Jenny turns down Forrest Gump’s proposal and leaves, just when he finally had a chance to be with her, or so he thought.
At this point, main characters also sometimes revert back to the worst, most limited version of themselves, a version that was not able to solve the main story problem without changing in some way (which they’ve resisted doing). Like in Bridesmaids when Kristen Wiig gets into a conflict with a teenage jewelry store customer, and gets fired. So in the third act, when some new idea, possibility or opportunity gives them one last shot at victory, they will learn that lesson and integrate personal growth in some way (often) so that their internal arc as a character is completed and they solve (usually) the main external story problem — the challenges of which forced them to confront their inner flaw and ultimately rise above it.
If they never suffer complete defeat, which is what the All is Lost moment is designed to represent, it can be hard to make this final external/internal victory as convincing, compelling and memorable as we want it to be (as writers, and as audience members).
So I suggest when you’re thinking out your story that you ask yourself what is the worst possible thing that could happen to the main character, the worst kind of defeat — where it would seem like they’ve lost utterly and terribly, and are worse off than before the story started. Then find a way to make that happen at the All is Lost moment. Which means figuring out how they’re going to somehow escape that and rise up for one final battle in Act Three.
Great article, Eric. I have a question regarding your view on what Robert McKee says in his book “story”: the last two act climaxes should not have the same value charge (this creates repetitiousness and blunts the effectiveness of the ending)…
He seems to think that a down-ending act 2 climax necessitates an up-ending story climax, and vice versa. Reading this, one would get the impression that, in a tragedy, the “all is lost moment” should be more like an “all is gained moment”. Am I misunderstanding McKee? Is he wrong? What are your thoughts?
Thanks Daniel!
Good question. I don’t remember that part of the book but if I’m understanding you correctly, I’d say this…
Most movies have an up-ending climax so a “Down” all-is-lost sounds like it would fit what he’s saying without a problem.
In the more rare tragic movie with a “down” climax (like SCARFACE, perhaps), maybe there is a “false victory” at the “all is lost” or not even a sense of “all is lost,” at all. I suggest checking with the tragedies you’re thinking of and seeing what you find. Probably that’s the case, as McKee generally seems to know what he’s talking about… 🙂
Hi Eric — Great post. And it goes without saying I am a huge fan of your work, your book and site. Thank you for sharing your insights. I would love you opinion on a thought I have been developing recently and am sharing with writers: A really effective All Is Lost moment happens at precicely the first time time the hero truly understands what they really wanted all along. And, at the same time, that goal seems impossible to achive. Up to now they’ve been striving for a practical story goal, which is only partly what they deep down really want inside. Now, it is even more agonising to finally understand what they want, and KNOW they can’t have it. So when new information (it has to be new, or all wasn’t lost) kickstarts act three, they are chasing this new (higher? deeper?) goal. And we aren’t geting more of the same from act 2. Wonder if that seems helpful to you?
Hi Ben,
Thanks for the kind words!
I think you raise a very interesting idea.
Certainly there seems to be some new perspective, motivation or sense of a deeper meaning at the Break into Three in many movies. Does that always mean they’re now chasing a higher/different goal that reflects what they really want inside? Or is it ever just the same goal? I think it might vary somewhat by genre and movie. I’d be interested to see your reply with some examples of movies that really seem to reflect what you’re saying. If I look for “exceptions” to it, off the top of my head, I’m drawn to action-oriented problems like Apollo 13, Die Hard or even The Wizard of Oz. Or mysteries like The Silence of the Lambs or Zodiac.
Love your Posts Erik, thank you. I have a protagonist realising their flaw they must overcome in their “all is lost” stage. The final act is them taking new actions to achieve their plot goal (what they want) armed with this fresh insight (what they need). My question is this; some of the most powerful movies I like keep that realisation until the actual crisis-climax, Lester in American Beauty when he realises Angela is a virgin for example. Is it more typical for the realisation to happen in “all is lost” or somewhat closer, or actually in, the final “battle”?
Thanks Mark!
I would say that’s more typical late in the final battle. Blake Snyder talks about having to “dig deep” in step 4 of a 5-part “finale”… Maybe they have a sense of what needs to be overcome prior but this is when they really are forced to change.
Your words…’so they will learn that lesson and integrate personal growth in some way (often) so that their internal arc as a character is completed’ Erik, this statement is loaded! How does all of a sudden the main character ‘integrate personal growth’ at this moment? IS there another character who shows them or guides them? How does personal growth happen here?
I know, this is a huge question! Not every movie tries to do this, but I think if you’re really going for “character arc,” this is usually how the arc is climaxed. It can be as simple as Luke finally “trusting the force” or Elle Woods finally taking on the patina of a real lawyer, independent and owning her unique value, believing in herself. Or William Miller in Almost Famous writing the true version and not the fanboy version of life with Stillwater. There’s been pressure throughout (often from another character) for the main character to change their old unhealthy or ineffective ways of approaching life but only when things build to that climactic moment do they finally try something really new, and try on a somewhat new identity.
Right to the point, Erik. Thank you for sharing. And yes, if the All Is Lost doesn’t mean total (apparent to both the main character and the reader/viewer) then not all is lost. Which then wouldn’t lead into the moment when the main character seems to have lost its soul to total darkness, which if it isn’t total darkness, wouldn’t give us the power of Turning Point 2 or “the light of distant hope” when a new piece of information casts a light on a new (and final) possibility, however faint. We won’t see or experience that light if the darkness isn’t, well, all dark.
Hi Erik,
Great post! Something that’s always bothered me is the alignment/relationship of the All is Lost moment to the traditional Plot Point 2, which it seems is often seen as that same crisis turning point right at the end of the Second Act. But Snyder brings his big plot point forward, to be followed by the Dark Night patch before the Break into 3/Plot Point 2…
Basically, how does one reconcile Syd Field’s very symmetrical plot points with Snyder’s ‘paradigm’?
Best,
Damon
My basic view is that Blake Snyder (and others) have added more specifics to what Syd Field kind of sketched out. I think Snyder’s Break into Three is probably more comparable to Field’s Plot Point 2 than the All is Lost moment is, but I understand that some might say “crisis leads into third act” as if the two things are right on top of each other. And sometimes they are! (The Dark Night of the Soul which is said to come between the two is a flexible-length section, in my view.)