Following that practice, I want to advance a resolution. I'm not prepared at this point to marshal all possible evidence on its behalf, but instead offer it as a focal point for debate.
The demands of storytelling in serialized narrative result in protagonists that are less strongly motivated in their long term goals than protagonists in classical Hollywood film.
Below I'm going to outline an initial set of arguments in support of this theory. In my first three points, I'm going to summarize arguments from Kristin Thompson and then advance my new theory from that foundation.
A. Classical Hollywood narrative favors goal-oriented protagonists who advance the action of the film while pursuing their goals.
Kristin Thompson discusses this point thoroughly in Storytelling in the New Hollywood, writing that "characters provide most of the the motivation in any given film" as they actively "seek out goals and pursue them, rather than having goals simply thrust upon them." Motivations are based on a clear set of character traits and "characters act consistently" throughout the film.
B. When characters shift their goals and/or modify an established character trait to obtain a goal in the course of the film, their shifts are well explained. The characters are strongly motivated.
Characters may change or grow in the course of achieving their goals, but the classical narrative offers a great deal of explanation for the character's growth, as Thompson explains in great detail in her discussion of Michael Dorsey's (Dustin Hoffman) character arc in Tootsie and Phil's (Bill Murray) character arc in Groundhog Day. Narrative structure in film fosters "clear, gradual character change" as there is "time allotted to thoroughly motivate their progress." (43)
C. Television uses techniques of classical cinema.
In Storytelling in Film and Television Kristin Thompson discusses the way in which classical Hollywood narrative techniques are used in television as well. Referencing an episode of The Bob Newhart Show, Thompson describes the way in which in the character's traits are well-defined and the way in which the "causal action" of the episode "arises from the character's goals and traits." (30) Although the Newhart characters do not significantly grow or change (and Bob is a psychiatrist, but that is a question for another time), Thompson does mention other television sitcoms (The Mary Tyler Moore Show) and serialized narratives (The Sopranos, Sex and The City) without taking up the question of how the television narratives motivate character growth and change.
D. Serialized narrative blends well-defined character traits and goals, which are techniques of classical cinema, with less strongly motivated traits and goals, to create more psychologically complex characters who sometimes act in ways that may seem contradictory or difficult to fathom.
Although longer story arcs offer greater knowledge of a character's personality, and often depict a process of slow and gradual change (as we discussed here), the need for continued conflict in the ongoing story (which Ien Ang calls "psychological cliffhangers", discussed here) creates a countervailing pressure to make the protagonist inscrutable on some psychological level. If we can too easily predict what the protagonist in a serialized drama is going to do and why, we have less incentive to continue to tune in week to week. Thus serialized drama creates a mix of strongly motivated short-term goals (generally related to the character's work) and less strongly motivated long-term goals (generally related to their personal life or larger psychological questions of personal growth.)
I'm going to discuss three examples of this process, from different decades in the development of serialized television narrative. I'm going to use series I know well, and include Mad Men as my third example. Hopefully this will open up a debate and folks can offer other examples as well.
1. Early '80s - Character Development and Motivation in Remington Steele
This series, among other reasons why I find it worthy of study, is an early example of serialized character development in a non-soap opera format.
As with Cheers, which also debuted in 1982, it established the "will they or won't they" romantic storyline that was copied by dozens of subsequent series. As I explain in detail here (in a different context) the series pilot used conventions of narrative structure established in romantic comedy in film, but ended with the protagonists, Laura Holt (Stephanie Zimbalist) and Remington Steele (Pierce Brosnan) united professionally, while "stuck in the second reel" regarding their romantic involvement. Co-creator and show runner Michael Gleason (who had experience writing serialized narrative as a staff writer on Peyton Place in the mid-'60s) explained that he intended to have both characters and the relationship slowly evolve over the course of the series while never quite reaching the romantic comedy destination of "happy ever after". As this was several years before Moonlighting, the example Gleason and his staff cite as a caution against the romantic happy ending was the '70s MTM sitcom Rhoda, which saw its ratings drop precipitously after Rhoda was married, and pick up again following her divorce.
In the dozen hours of DVD audio commentary between Gleason and his writing staff, the phrase character arc is never used. Instead, the writers give the impression of a writing process in which they were free to write episodes that both explored the characters' back-story and developed some forward momentum as they saw fit, but the characterizations were ultimately subject to Gleason's re-write, as they would be with any show runner. Several of the writers indicate the degree to which they re-shaped their conception of the characters as they worked with the actors in the first few episodes and discovered their range and ability to move seamlessly from procedural to action to emotional drama to broad comedy to witty banter. The writers give the overall impression of a trial and error process that resulted in psychologically complex characterizations by the middle of the first season. Additionally, the series themes of identity -- public identity vs private identity, masquerades vs core integrity -- led to episodes in which the "true" goals and motivations of the characters were always somewhat at question (and thus deferred the ultimate romantic happy ending for another week).
To illustrate the mixture of strongly motivated short term goals, and less strongly motivated long term goals, consider the late first season episode "Sting of Steele". The episode introduces Steele's former mentor (from his mysterious past), re-introduces Laura's mother (from her shrouded and painful past), and turns on questions of false identity, trust and deception. Short term goals, focused on solving the mystery and bringing a murderer to justice, move through a plot that raises new questions of whether Steele can be fully trusted and whether Laura is capable of fully trusting anyone. The case is resolved and Laura and Steele rebuild some trust, but the psychological cliffhanger of both protagonists' long-term motivation and goals is left short of its full resolution. A film would require a more complete resolution, one way or the other.
2. Character Motivation in The West Wing
Aaron Sorkin is much less forthcoming about his writing process for The West Wing than Michael Gleason and his team. However, as Sorkin has written similar narratives for both film and serialized television, we can draw some conclusions relevant to our discussion here despite Sorkin's reticence. In a essay titled "A Scriptwriter's Perspective," included in The West Wing: The American Presidency as Television Drama, Jason P. Vest compares "two apparently identical scenes" in Sorkin's film The American President and in the first season West Wing episode "Let Bartlet be Bartlet" (148). (The DVD set contains no audio commentary for this episode.)
Vest includes a lengthy excerpt from a scene in The American President between President Shepherd (Michael Douglas) and his chief of staff A. J. MacInerney (Martin Sheen) in which they discuss a plot complication in which a political decision has led to professional difficulties for Shepherd's romantic partner. Vest describes this scene as the only one in the movie which offers a glimpse of the personal history between Shepherd and MacInerney, and indicates the way in which it serves as a turning point in the narrative. MacInerney reminds Shepherd of his core beliefs, which provides the clear grounding for his actions in the next scene, in which he reverses a political decision and reunites with his romantic interest. (148-150) The film narrative leads clearly to a character turning point, and his strongly motivated goal shift drives the resolution of the A & B plots of the film.
Vest's essay includes the transcript of a parallel scene in "Let Bartlet Be Bartlet". (151-153) As in the film example, President Jed Bartlet (Martin Sheen) and his chief of staff Leo McGarry (John Spencer) discuss falling poll numbers and the political advisability of taking an unpopular stance that is closer to the president's core beliefs than his current position. As in the film example, the scene marks a turning point, as Bartlet is reminded by McGarry of the reasons he ran for president in the first place and resolves to express those beliefs. Bartlet's change of goal is strongly motivated -- for the time being.
However, as a serialized narrative, this is not the final word. Additional complications arise that will un-resolve and un-motivate the political advisability of letting Bartlet be Bartlet, particularly in the most significant arc of the second season which concerns the fact that Bartlet has withheld disclosure of a serious medical condition from the public and most of his staff. We gain a more nuanced character portrayal of the president at the expense of clearly motivated action. What are Bartlet's goals for his presidency? What is the proper balance between leadership and political expediency? The answers become contextualized and contingent on circumstance in the serialized television narrative where they were clear and resolute in the film.
3. Character Motivation in the Mad Men pilot
We're going to have a lot of opportunity to discuss character arcs in Mad Men as the class goes along. For my purposes today, I want to make a couple of points about Don's characterization.
It's also important to note that as a cable series of only 13 episodes with lengthy intervals between seasons, Mad Men has more time than network series generally do to plan character arcs, write, revise, and produce episodes. The conditions of production should result in more consistent characterization and plotting and less haphazard or accidental shifts in character goals based solely upon production deadlines.
In an interview for the Archive of American Television posted here, Matthew Weiner discusses Don't character arc in the fourth season, indicating that he had planned all along to have Don marry a secretary by the final episode of that season. He planned the arc and how to obscure the ending of that arc from viewers until it could emerge in more organic and natural way through the events of the season. (I have not watched all seven hours of this interview yet.)
In the pilot we certainly see a mixture of strongly motivated short term goals (Don needs something to pitch at the Lucky Strike meeting. Don needs to make up to Rachel Menken in attempt not to lose her business) and long term goals that are obscured. We don't learn about his existential outlook until his dinner with Rachel. We don't learn until the end of the pilot that Don has a wife and kids at home in the suburbs. The revelations make his character more opaque as the episode concludes, and Weiner gives some indication in the audio commentary for the episode that this was by design -- he says that most shows would have ended the narrative arc with Don's successful recovery in the Lucky Strike pitch. I'm reading between the lines of Weiner's admission and arguing that the design was intended to make Don more of a psychological mystery, to create the psychological cliffhanger that might hook an audience to want to travel on a fairly dark journey with this guy.
So that's my working theory:
The demands of storytelling in serialized narrative result in protagonists that are less strongly motivated in their long term goals than protagonists in classical Hollywood film.
I've not considered it from enough angles yet, looked enough for evidence to the contrary, or though enough about its larger implications, but I think it's enough to start a discussion.
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