October’s Buzz:

SEQUENCES: THE BUILDING BLOCKS OF A SCRIPT
Part 2of 2
(Copyright 2003)

by
Kathryn McCullough

As mentioned in last month’s essay, a screenplay story is generally composed of eight sequences: two sequences in the first act, four in the second act, and two in the third. If you study several films and screenplays, you will find that the dramatic beats of the sequences generally unfold as follows:

In the first sequence of the script, we are shown the main character in a situation in which a problem already exists. For instance, a lovestruck man is afraid to talk to the girl of his dreams; a woman with low self-esteem is trapped in an abusive marriage; a troubled cop takes risks on the job that put his career in jeopardy. There is drama from the start, because there is already a difficulty of some kind, even if it is subtle.

In the second sequence, something happens. This is “the inciting incident,” “the point of attack” or “the disturbing moment” mentioned in screenwriting books and seminars. If not for this development, the protagonist’s life would continue unchanged; the situation would remain the same. This unexpected event jolts the character and forces him or her to act, or at least to react. At the end of this sequence (the end of the first act), we know what the protagonist wants as a result of the jolt, and what the forces are against him or her. The story has begun.

In the third sequence, the character takes action to achieve his or her goal, but it becomes clear that this will not be so easy, either due to new obstacles and/or to the character’s dawning understanding of just how great the opposing forces are. By the end of this sequence, the character’s actions have actually made the situation worse, but they have also made it impossible for the protagonist to go back to the way things were originally. Generally, this sequence deals more with the social aspects of the story (the career, the crime) than with the personal (the romance or key relationship).

In the fourth sequence, the protagonist comes up with a new plan to deal with his problem, which may even include abandoning the goal. However, forces set in motion by the main character’s earlier actions culminate in a complication of some kind that not only forces the character to commit completely to the goal, but also raises the story to a new level. (See December 2002’s Buzz Essay, “Now What? Moving Beyond the Premise,” for more on this subject). This sequence also usually develops the personal subplot of the story. Throughout both the third and fourth sequences, the character’s journey is bringing about personal growth.

In the fifth sequence, the protagonist reacts to the complication. Due to the growth mentioned above, the character is now capable of dealing with the situation in a way he or she would not have been able to at the beginning of the story. The fifth sequence often contains a personal reversal of some kind. The protagonist now realizes that he’s in love, or she discovers that her best friend has betrayed her. In a story with a happy ending, the outcome of this sequence is hopeful. If the script will end unhappily, that resolution is foreshadowed here.

The sixth sequence twists the fifth around, bringing all the subplots together in a way that sends the main character crashing to a low point (if a happy ending), or to a deceptive high (if a sad ending). The social story reverses: the criminal seems to have gotten away; the protagonist loses his job; the guy loses the girl. The ending of the second act is a false ending. Either all seems lost, or all obstacles seem to have been overcome -- until the next sequence.

The seventh sequence, which begins the third act, starts with a twist: a new hope, if a tragic ending, or a new obstacle if a happy ending. This is the moment when the character has a realization. Up to now, circumstances have been changing the protagonist, but the protagonist hasn’t really changed. Acceptance of his or her new life and circumstances now sinks in, and he or she acts accordingly.

This action by the protagonist leads to the eighth sequence, which is the true ending. It opposes the false ending. The guy gets the girl; the cop nabs the killer.

Not every story will match this outline to the letter, but if you study individual films closely, you will find that most tend to follow this pattern.

These definitions are easier to understand with examples. In the next two months, I will apply this sequence breakdown in the analysis of two very different movies.