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What struck me about this passage, with regard to its relevance to modern screen craft, is how the creation of memorable, compelling characters may begin with the screenwriter, but ultimately, such characters result from the collaboration of several artists - writer, casting director, actor, director, cinematographer, costume designer, makeup artist. . .one of my favorite examples of such collaboration comes near the end of "Black Narcissus" when, with the assistance of fantastic dramatic lighting and lurid makeup, Kathleen Byron as the fallen nun Sister Ruth appears twisted with lust and soul sickness, just before (spoiler alert) her nun fight to the death with Sister Clodagh (Deborah Kerr). And it seems to me that, given how brave actors must be, to be willing to peel off their own skins and inhabit those of the characters they portray, the least screenwriters can do is try to write characters that challenge and reward that courage; perhaps creative folks need to back each other up regarding the need for characters to be complicated and compelling, rather than merely likable, in the same way that some science folks have been willing to throw down alongside Einstein, for the belief that imagination outstrips intellect any old day.

Concur, Melanie, 100% re what we owe actors with the characters we write. I had a lengthy discussion with an actor once complaining about some of the scripts he was reading. Bottom line comment: "If the writer doesn't know a character's motivations, how am I supposed to know?" So bare minimum, we owe them that: Clarity on the core essence of each character, their goals, wants and needs, etc. But beyond that, Melanie, your note about actors being willing to "peel off their own skins" brings to mind one of my favorite way of thinking about characters: Multiple layers. There is the persona they present to the External World [and that can have several 'masks' they don depending upon circumstances]. Then there is the deepest foundation of their psyche (Core Essence), and that can include their shadow, the dark impulses. But in BETWEEN all that are multiple layers of being and consciousness. Like an onion. So we, as writers, need to peel off the skins of our characters and dig into their multiple layers of being. Obviously we can't include everything in our stories, that's too much. But we can identify key motivators and psyche aspects, hone in on the ones we think can work in the context of our story, and use that as the basis of who the character is. That way we give actors something to work with. Beyond that, the plot emerges. Thanks for that, Melanie!

The title character in Euripides' tragedy "Medea" is a nasty piece of work. Implacably outraged that her husband Jason has dumped her for another woman, she takes revenge by killing all their children. And she gets away with it; at the end of the play she makes good her escape from the scene of the crime in Corinth. So, does Aristotle take Euripides to task for making her such a horrible character, for being so unsympathetic (to at least 1/2 of the demographic: men) for her m.o. of revenge? No. For getting away the crime unpunished, making good her escape? No. Aristotle takes Euripides to task on a technical point, for using a deus ex machina gimmick to effect her escape. Whether it was a deus ex machina is arguable, imho, but the germane point is that Aristotle does not criticize Euripides for his characterization of Medea. Two modern examples: who is the more interesting character in "Fatal Attraction"? Who drives the story, makes it so interesting, so compelling? The foolishly philandering husband, Dan Callager, or the woman who becomes totally obsessed with him, Alex Forrest? Who is the more interesting character in "The Dark Night"? Who drives the story, makes it so interesting, so compelling? Batman or Joker? Is Daniel Plainview a likeable guy in "There Will be Blood"? And Anton Chigurh in "No Country for Old Men" -- that character is merciless, totally unsympathetic -- and irresistibly fascinating, compelling to watch every second he's on the screen. (And consider the main characters in two current films, "Inside Llewyn Davis" and "Nebraska".) Why are bad guys and gals, scoundrels and psychopaths so fascinating to watch? Maybe they are not noble characters, per Aristotle's one criteria, but they amply live up to the other criteria of being "above the common level".

>>>But even if you are working with an anti-hero who may not be particularly sympathetic, the pressure is there to at least make him/her empathetic. What fascinates me about "Breaking Bad" is how skillfully Vince Gilligan's writing team mapped the trajectory of his character, how (to use psychobabble) he succumbs to his shadow instead of integrates it. The beauty is in the process, not the final product.

I also think Aristotle is using "ennoble" here in the sense of instructing the dramatist to make the character grander, more god-like, more *more*, rather than sympathetic. Really, it's the opposite of sympathetic almost- aspects of the character are relatable, but the character is "superhuman" thus less personally relatable. But surely the "could you make the character more sympathetic" hollywood-speak is a thing, but it's a biz thing not aesthetics. Nietzsche's "The Birth of Tragedy" is a good one to read that's relevant here imo.

Jon, that's a fair point. Setting aside sympathy angle, that's another thing in Hollywood thinking: Write a part big enough for name actors. Less important nowadays where CGI tends to dominate movies, but still a concern. And so like the example I linked to in the OP, this particular actor had a BIG self-image. Equally important, he had a BIG image of what he thought movie audiences thought his image was. So your point re Aristotle -- ennoble = more *more* -- is also relevant to Hollywood today. Thanks for that observation!

pgronk, wonder if Breaking Bad is proverbial case of lightning in a bottle, hard to duplicate. But you're right: The shadow won out. He achieved unity with his Dark Side.