Robert McKee recently blogged about the “Rise of One-Act Films,” and I found so much of interest in his article that I wanted to expand on the topic, from my perspective.
He describes a one-act film as one which “accumulates pressure gradually, often exclusively within the protagonist’s psychological and emotional life, and usually ends on a quiet release.” Typically this style of narrative is reserved for shorter works like one-act plays, and short stories or films.
In a traditional feature-length story, we’re usually focused on major external jeopardies and outcomes, where there is a lot of suspense about what’s going to happen (even in comedies). There are big turning points and an “all-or-nothing climax.”
I never thought of it this way, but I think McKee makes some compelling observations here.
I often find myself down on scripts which seem to only have “internal stakes.” I believe film and TV audiences tend to need something external at stake and being sought after that hugely matters to all being right with the world, which builds and complicates throughout the middle of the story — all towards an outcome that the audience can root for almost as passionately as they would a championship game their favorite sports team is playing in.
But one-act films McKee references — such as Lady Bird, The Florida Project, Columbus and A Fantastic Woman — somehow still work. Or at least they work for enough people to be considered a success, in terms of reviews, awards, film festivals, and a resulting audience that is big enough to turn a profit.
Having just come from a festival where my short film was premiering, and having seen some of the narrative features that get a lot of play in that world, I can tell you that such a film can win some acclaim for a writer and/or director, even without the usual three-act elements. It can establish an original “voice” that can really launch or advance a career.
But I would also say that scripts focusing on internal stakes where “not a lot happens” (compared to a traditional feature film) are more likely to not grab readers and audiences, and are still to be a undertaken with caution. A few key things have to fall into place for them to work:
- The characters and writing have an authenticity that is undeniable, and a uniqueness that make them feel like real lives being lived, which are fresh, interesting, and entertaining in some way.
- There are major problems that the main character has to work through — they are struggling and in pain, and although much of this could be internal, their external life still has to be no picnic.
- The audience forms a strong emotional bond with one or more characters, and follows them through a subjectively told experience that resonates with deep feeling.
At the end of the day, I think writers are always trying to make millions of strangers care about a character and story that they have no reason to inherently care about. So we’re kind of forcing them to become interested and to want to follow them, which means emotionally bonding, buying into the journey, and having pleasurable emotions (i.e. being entertained) in the process.
Maybe “three-act structure” isn’t absolute. But I think this need for the audience to “care” is — and writers do well to always keep that in mind. Why should they care? How can I present something that they will care about, or tell the story I want to tell in such a way that they will?
If you can get people to strongly care — and most screenwriting principles are meant to help achieve that, in the end — then you’re always on the right track.
Watch “The Tree of Wooden Clogs.” Likable characters is everything.
Thanks for an important post. This area of filmmaking/storytelling is the “future” – today.
I call them “portrait” films. Usually, you thoroughly explore a character or situation, but there’s not much movement in terms of story. It might resemble a biography or memoir without a strong plot. They can be watchable, but it’s more typical of another medium, than film, especially at feature-length.
I can sometimes feel I’ve come away from watching a student exercise, because even with skillful writing, etc., it may not teach any lessons (on what to do or avoid, or how), no matter how skillful the portrait is.
Uh, just because one doesn’t recognize the acts, doesn’t mean there aren’t any. An act doesn’t have to the death of someone. All the story has to do is go another direction even on the slightest scale when compared to the whole.
Not to be a structure wonk, but in an interview on “The Florida Project” Sean Baker says, “We tried to get away from the tropes of a three-act structure with this film, where you have the twist that happens near the second act,” Baker says. “It’s still there but the way that I introduce it is not apparent.” I think the break into two is when we see Moon’s mom feels she must now work as a prostitute. And if you look at TFP (which I loved), you’ll see for the mom it falls into a classic three-act structure. The break into three for me is when the mom is “caught” and that leads her (and for us) the story climax: Moon being taken from her. If you read other interviews with Sean Baker he talks about using the three-act structure, but wanting to hide it from the audience. But he makes it clear he does use it. Also he interestingly feels with his writing partner they are ready to write the script when they can see the entire film on post-it notes on a wall. Personally, I’ve had luck and success over years writing “one-act plays” always using three-act-structure.
One act plays are an interesting form of storytelling. So much in so little and the simpler often the better , but not always. Bill
An industrial approach to screenwriting will always rely on what has worked in the past. This is opposed to an artistic approach which works by understanding what has worked in the past but in addition by innovating story form and compensating when abandoning expected story elements. Abandoning the standard 3-act structure and the accompanying plot turning points can be compensated for by increasing the role of other story elements. For instance, a rising curve of action with an increased number and variety of action set pieces could abate the need for shifting the direction of the plot via turning points. This acts to increase the tension of the conflict along with rising stakes.
I don’t disagree but what I have found is it tends to be better when a writer understands and can master the form and its classic approach (a lot harder than it looks) before consciously choosing to forego certain things and try new approaches.
Although sometimes an artist can transcend it all at a young age without learning the form fully, and/or other aspects of a script (or especially a completed film) can compensate to such a great degree that it “works anyway” – but in my view this is quite rare.
The more people care about what´s happening with a main character, the better it is, I think. Hence, there should be something at stake with major, preferably universal appeal.