I've been reading this blog religiously for almost two years now and can say comfortably that these series of posts have been some of the most insightful I've read in what is already a terrific catalog of articles here at GITS. I can't wait for more.

Scott, You are right. There is no substitute for reading scripts. Studying "Argo" this week has been the most profitable investment of my time at GITS since, well, since participating in your discussion of Aristotle's “Poetics”. I will be digesting a number of takeaways for some time. Alas, commitments may limit the time I will have to participate in the discussion other scripts. (Although I will, of course, carve out time to, I hope, do justice to the discussion of "Lincoln", my assigned script.) But I will be checking in when I can, and I eagerly look forward to the observations and insights of others. Thanks for the opportunity and kudos for your ongoing moral and material support to the screenwriting community.

Thanks, Kalen. I concur with your assessment. And I've heard from several pro screenwriters who followed the discussion. And we have at least 17 additional weeks and hopefully more for the series, depending upon the number of volunteers. I thought the commentary was excellent and I know I made a concerted effort to track them, even during the course of my hectic days. Felt like I learned a lot! So keep coming back, Kalen!

Thanks, Paul, for your contributions. I know you're busy, but hopefully you can stop by at least some of the series because your insights are top notch and much appreciated.

Here are a few takeaways I got from this week's worth of analysis: * Don't get hung up on any of the formulas related to the sequence approach. The idea there are only eight sequences in a movie is ridiculous. There may be eight, then again there may be 15 or 16 like Argo or many more. * Do work with sequences. They give shape to groups of scenes and help to drive the narrative forward. * I always tell students a script reader wants to know what the story is by the end of Act One, even to the point of where it's going to end. That seems counterintuitive, but Argo is a case in point. We KNOW they're going to escape. We know this from history itself. So why is Argo so compelling when we know the ending? Because the telling of HOW the characters pull it off is compelling. * While the Protagonist often goes through the most significant metamorphosis in a movie, there are occasions, such as with Argo, in which the P does not. Instead, it's the group of hostages and specifically one of them who goes through the most extensive change. Finally I am reminded again that there are LIMITLESS WAYS to tell a story. Even within the context of a traditional three act structure with four primary plot points we can see a mile away, Argo works through a combination of deft plotting, nuanced character work, lots of cross-cutting to build and sustain pace and tension, and building to a dramatic conclusion. It's no wonder that screenwriter Chris Terrio has been entrusted with a ginormous Warner Bros. property: Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice.

One of my takeaways was the importance of properly setting up payoffs, and paying off setups. And how to go about doing it. Setting up payoffs: Joe Stafford's fluency in Farsi is clearly established, not once but twice in the first act. Otherwise, his hero moment would have constituted the dramatic sin of a "deus ex machina". Paying off setups: Having started the ticking clock of Iranian children piecing together shredded documents, the threat they will discover the employees who got away, the story delivers a scene where that dire threat is consummated: an employee's picture is pieced together. Failure to deliver a consummation scene on any dramatically important threat or expectation constitutes, for lack of a better phrase, dramatic coitus interruptus. A fear or expectation is established and the tension builds with repeat beats on the issue... and builds... and BUILDS ... and then.. and then.... Nothing. (And you don't want to know how many scripts I've read that have left me feeling that way. Metaphorically speaking, of course!)

Okay, one more example in "Argo" of paying off a problem, in this case a seemingly minor problem, that a lesser writer might have just left, uh, hanging out there with no resolution, no closure: Mendez's relationship with his wife. It's seems not to be central to the plot. But is that, in fact, the case? First of all, it's clearly established as a personal problem for the protagonist. Precious page space (and screen time ) is "wasted" on it. Why dwell on his personal problem if it doesn't have anything to do with the plot? Because it has everything to do with the plot. It provides the critical situation that kicks off the plot, that gives Mendez the brainstorm for the bogus movie. Wanting to stay connected with his son in spite of the separation, he tunes his TV to the same sci-fi movie his son is watching. So much happens after that and there are so many cathartic scenes of joy and relief at the end, this problem could have gotten lost in the crowd, swept aside, left on the cutting room floor. And who would have noticed? But, no, the script and the movie wisely pays off Mendez's personal problem with a scene reuniting Mendez with his wife (p 120): "...he's embraced her... something in between romantic and fraternal. Not reconciliation, necessarily, but warmth. She reciprocates. It feels right and good." Scott talks a lot about the subjective story thread where an old unity that has broken down into a disunity, by some dramatic alchemy, transforms into a new unity. Well there it is, folks. Tentative, incomplete, yes, but the Mendez's personal story ends on a hopeful beat for a new unity. A nice moment and, I think, a necessary one to bring some closure to the personal problem that unintentionally contributed to the solution of the central dramatic problem.

I have blogged about the importance of Set-ups and Payoffs. Both major or minor in terms of plot importance, they are a valuable narrative device. The set-up establishes a sense of anticipation. The payoff resolves that tension. A script will often have multiple set-ups and payoffs. Working in combination, they can contribute significantly to a reader ending up with a feeling of deep satisfaction.

I'm glad you brought this up, Paul. First, it is an example of a set-up and payoff as part of a subplot: Mendez' relationship with his wife. On the scale of importance to the story, with the escape Level A, this is somewhere around Level N, way down there. However it is significant. As you note, he would not have come up with the idea for the escape plan had it not been something arising from his family. Indeed, his BROKEN family, watching the movie with his son in a different location, the visual reinforcing the 'separation' that exists in Mendez' personal life. As we have discussed, Mendez does not go through a huge metamorphosis, but it's there. In the External World (what I call the Plotline), we see it when he refuses the order to shut down the escape plan. Up until that point, everything he has done has been within the context and confines of The System. As crazy as the escape scheme is, Mendez went through proper channels and it was approved and supported by authority figures. His on-the-run decision to go forward goes against authority and suggests a sense of growing self-confidence. It also suggests a connection he has made with the six hostages. If you look at the relationships between Mendez and the six symbolically, in a sense they have become a 'family'. He makes a connection with them. So his decision to disobey the order to shut down the escape plan is not just based on self-confidence, it is also about his commitment to these people and his pledge to get them out of Iran. Cut to the very end of the story where he comes back home and embrace his wife, the scene you describe above, Paul. It is a tiny moment, but a payoff nonetheless. Per this minor subplot, you can look at everything Mendez has gone through as a bridge for him to at least want to try to overcome the separation between he and his wife/family. He made a connection with the six hostages, a 'family' connection. Perhaps he can do the same with his own real family. It's a testament to the nuance and maturity of the script that he and his wife don't blurt out, "I love you" and start kissing with tears flowing. No, the moment is laced with potential, acknowledging the brokenness of their relationship, but also the possibility for reconciliation. This is a visual sign of Mendez' metamorphosis on an emotional level, the Internal World, what I call the Themeline. So as the successful escape caps Mendez' growth to self-confidence in the story's Physical Journey, this tiny little moment caps off his transformation, albeit small, in the story's Psychological Journey. Thanks again for bringing it up, Paul. I had wanted to discuss this all week and never got around to it.

>>the nuance and maturity of the script Yes! Another reason I liked the scene: it wasn't overplayed. There's plenty of emoting in other scenes. And it's realistic: as a company man he can't talk about his work to outsiders. No, not even to his wife if she's not a CIA employee. So she may suspect he's been up to something, but he can't explain, and she would know better than to ask questions.