Could the answer have something to do with "Bitter Truth" number 8, or is losing glasses an inescapable symptom? Or perhaps a different symptom. Needing glasses, generally -- at least in my mind -- harmonizes with the second law of thermodynamics: Everything is winding down. Our glasses keep us up to speed, if we can find them. Which brings me to the issue of dead heros: The bitter truth is that glasses are the indicator that we've stepped out of the natural world. Hunh? Without glasses, we wouldn't be able to find sustenance. Life the adventure would take a slippery turn. Indiana Jones finds out that his whip has worn down, and he's a goner. His whip, my glasses. So goes the adventure. But in movies (if you've brought your glasses), life becomes an adventure. Time is compressed, narrated. I guess we're just too myopic to see that in our own life. Or, alternatively, our glasses keep us from seeing the reality: that the steak in the meat case once spoke Mooooo. We're insulated. Fiction is not. Of course, neither is reality, but I'm too afraid to look.

Two thumbs up, Jeff, and fun stuff! Also thoughtful. "We're insulated. Fiction is not." Reminds me of that Ray Bradbury quote, "You must stay drunk on writing so reality cannot destroy you."

Re death & movies, your point is well-taken: "Time is compressed." Indeed! We go into a movie theater expecting characters to go through radical personal transformations and that can only happen if the story compresses time.

Re losing eyeglasses: perhaps this would cure the problem.

Yag. I was watching "10,000 BC" tonight thinking about dead heroes when all of a sudden it dawned on me that movies have substituted special effects for drama... Who needs drama when you can cut a good car chase? Compare "The Bourne Supremacy" with Spielberg's "Duel." Excitement versus drama. So, if "Death of a Salesman" hadn't worked dramatically, moviemakers could have melted Lee J. Cobb, or caused Mars to fly out of his toilet bowl. Of course that really doesn't speak to the question, at least not directly. What I'm getting at is that modern effects driven cinema demands that the hero gets moshed in the end. Did you see the "60 Minutes" interview with Will Smith? To chose his first big script, Smith and his manager checked out the top ten grossing films that year and found that eight of them were heavy into EFX, which led to "Independence Day," if I'm not mistaken. Maybe that's why the hero's life hangs in the balance, because so does the box office. "Same as it ever was."

Re SFX: Your point is driven home to me, Jeff, every time I go to the theater and see trailer after trailer after trailer chock full of special effects. A dizzying display of bashed buildings, crashed cars, and mashed monuments. And your reference to Independence Day is spot-on as that is possibly the poster child of SFX movies that lacked any genuine heart or drama.

But then Iron Man comes along. Lord of the Rings. Spiderman. Good movies all. Everything I've read or heard about The Dark Knight is positive to the point where Heath Ledger's performance as The Joker is getting buzz for an Acad Award nomination. So it's not like it's written in stone that "Big SFX = Bad Movie."

What if we looked at SFX / CGI as simply yet another technological advance ala black-and-white to color or silent movies to 'talkies?' I wonder if when talkies came around, the first few years movies were saturated with dialogue, simply because they could finally do that.

The studios do have an affinity for big SFX movies, especially for the summer season, because they believe that 'big' is what adolescent / young males want to see. But per usual, whether a movie is a success or not is generally determined by the strength of the story concept, the quality of the script and the execution of the filmmakers.

Only one movie has absolutely immersed me in its "almost death" moment. That was The Silence of the Lambs, and because I ID'd so thoroughly with Agent Starling at that moment I feel (actually feel, in my heart beat and my gut) it gave me a practice scenario.

Safe yet experiential. Seriously, I would hope that in such a fearful state, I'd gut it out and stay strong like Clarice (and not whine and scoot out the door with death moths on my tail.)

So I'll go with the sense that a near death or death-and-resurrection moment that really works gives me a learning experience, an emotional roller-coaster ride worth whatever the ticket costs and a reason to want to write screenplays.

PS -- Happy Fourth, Scott!

Thanks for your June posts on Masterplots and your How I Write series. I'm breaking a story now and I am using them!

Judy, that Final Struggle scene in Silence of the Lambs with Clarice in the dark and Buffalo Bill tracking her via his night-vision goggles is absolutely riveting. And Jodi Foster played it just right -- remember how wide her eyes were, trying to grab any shred of light in the pitch black, and that tiny tremble in her shooting hand: she was scared.

What really makes that scene compelling is the emotional 'meaning' invested in the moment by the story leading up to it. My symbolic interpretation of the movie is that Clarice's want (External World) is to save the Senator's daughter, but her need (Internal World) is to kill Buffalo Bill -- the former to 'save' Young Clarice, who 'died' when her father was murdered (Catherine Martin the Senator's daughter representing Young Clarice), and the latter to 'redeem' Clarice for the 'sin' of allowing her father to die (I'm speaking psychologically of course). That's what Hannibal Lecter led her to see, whether she knew it consciously or not: she needed to shed the blood of a murderer as expiation for her 'sins.' And Lecter serves as her Old Testament high priest in guiding her to that realization.

Anyway, that's my post-Jungian analysis and I'm sticking to it!

I like your p-J analysis -- and plan to incorporate it into my story. Er... I mean pay homage to it.

Both the outer and the inner goals of the main character, her want AND her need, are set up powerfully and emotionally throughout the A and B stories -- then they wind up being at life-or-death risk in one single, all-focused action (saving sen's daughter/killing Buff Bill)... the perfect near-death moment.

OhhhhKaaaaaaayyy. Check. Got it. ;^)

And yes, Jodie Foster nailed it!

I'd say there's 2 reasons. One is cynical. The other is why they work.

Let's go with cynical, first --

1) Because of Joseph Campbell's work, the Hero's Journey is the template for the overwhelming majority of Hollywood blockbusters.

Supplmentry texts, like Christopher Vogler's THE WRITER'S JOURNEY give a much easier to decipher version of the Hero's Journey. In this book, as derived from Campbell, Vogler says there are actually two points in every script/story where the hero must "die."

One is during the ordeal. The other is at the climax in Act Three.

For all intents and purposes, the cynical answer is -- cut and paste.

Because the structure (The Hero's Journey) that is used for every Hollywood movie, says so :p.

2) Why it works -- In a more philosophical manner.

It is not the death that is significant, but the rebirth.

Story, as a form, is a metaphor for life. For human behavior. How we want things to be. And how they actually are.

A character does not change in a story until he is reborn. (Don't characters that flip-flop their inner most desires and fears at a moments notice seem phony?)

And even after death, they sometimes don't change.

But death, is that opportunity for the character to change. To become different. To have learned something from his journey.

The death itself is a metaphor for character change.

And it doesn't always have to be the main character that "almost dies." Gandalf standing up to the Balrog in The Fellowship of the Ring is a great example, where the hero bears witness to the death and is helpless to do anything.

Frodo's hopes for the mission are crushed with this act. And the Fellowship, almost immediately, falls apart, both in the book, and in the film.

James, I still have notes I took from a presentation Chris Vogler gave at the WGA in 1988, well before his book "The Writer's Journey" came out. And I would guess you're right -- his ideas have become ubiquitous in Hwood.

To your second point -- "A character does not change in a story until he is reborn" -- that's an intriguing thought. My immediate reaction was to think of the overall process of transformation, particularly involving the Protagonist, which by definition would almost always have to stretch out over a period of time -- if it was an overnight change, then where's the movie, you'd be done by the end of the first act. But then I thought more about your point and, for instance, in the movie Iron Man, that Protagonist (Tony Stark) does almost die at the beginning and that experience does serve as a central touchstone in his philosophical about-face. So I'll do some more thinking about your point, probably put up a post about it.

By the way, best of luck with your blog which can be found here and your writing.

Cool. I'm glad I checked up on this :) Thanks for the comments.

Iron Man is an interesting example. It's First Act is damn near a movie by itself. You can actually cram the COMPLETE Hero's Journey into Iron Man's First Act.

But we all really want to see Tony Stark build -- and then kick butt in Iron Man don't we? I mean, that is what the movie really is about :p.

Iron Man really has 3 "deaths" that mark change.

1) The death that marks change in Act One is that of his prison buddy. Tony's near death really isn't the catalyst of his change. It's the guy who saves him -- and befriending him. Then his buddy makes a heroic sacrifice -- I'll go charge the bad guys, while you power-up. Then Tony finds him dying. That's the catalyst.

2) Jeff Bridges stealing Tony's heart at the end of Act 2.

3) "So, how did you fix the icing problem?"

Typical of action movies in the third act -- there are a string of "deaths." But one is a little more on point than the others.

I think your average person would probably say the big moment is right at the end when Tony is dangling over the arc-magnet thing. Maybe.

My opinion, is that the fight really changes direction with the icing. Not to mention it pays off a plant from earlier.

Tony Stark has no fuel. His computer is reminding him of this. And yet he flies into space, knowing he doesn't have the fuel to make it back.

Iron Man freezes the bad guy. Saves the day. Then falls to his death. And is miraculously saved, by the sputtering bursts from his boots.

But that is the heroic sacrifice, isn't it?

Then the bad guy has a resurrection. Both action and horror movies do this a lot. The main thrust of the movie is really over. Now, it is just about finishing off the bad guy -- and some have more fight in them than others.

This is akin to Swartzenegger's grim smile, when he pulls the trigger, launching the main terrorist into the enemy helicopter in TRUE LIES to finish him off once and for all.

As an ASIDE:

There are similar movies that follow this front loaded, structure. Tony Scott/Quentin Tarantino's TRUE ROMANCE is another. His first act, is basically the entire plot of TAXI DRIVER crammed into 30 mins. The rest is the unfolding of how Clarence is going to sell the cocaine he accidentally grabbed in Act One so he and Alabama can live happily ever after.