This is not really in the vein of my usual posts, but I wanted to share it anyway. I was recently watching a TV show - the first season of a popular show, which I’d never seen before - and found myself befuddled.

There’s a scriptwriting term called an ‘arc’. It refers to the character and how it develops over the course of the script, whether it be within one episode, over a season (for some reason, ’season’ gets confused with ’series’ by mainstream media. I refer to a single set of episodes as ’season’, whereas the show overall is a ’series’), over a complete series, or over the course of an scene, act or play if referring to a live performance.

An ‘arc’ sets the terms of the character development. Let’s take a well-known story as an example: the turtle and the hare. The hare is the focus of the example. The hare goes through several stages, from being cocky at the start, to running the race and becoming less sure of himself, and then at the end is completely struck down as the fastest thing in the race. The character’s arc in this case is the hare’s change from overestimating his abilities (and underestimating the turtle’s) to humility. There is a natural gradation from one extreme to the other.

Arcing is not just important to the crux of the story (writers are often taught to ask themselves what their characters want and need, but also what prevents them from getting it: which is why every single story, script, movie, etc in existence has at its foundation conflict) but how the audience relates to those characters. We dislike the hare at the beginning, but by the end we feel a sense of comeuppance, we like him (her) better because of this new humility. Likewise, we feel more akin to the turtle because we often feel like the underdog, under-appreciated, etc. A believable gradation of the character’s story is necessary to not only feel sympathy/kinship/hatred/etc to the character, but also of the story overall.

Now let’s turn the story on its head: what if instead of the gradual change of heart, the hare turns around at the beginning of the race and says to the turtle, "You know what? I’m really not as fast as you. You win," and walks away? Most of us would assume that the hare is up to something; it’s a psychological tactic, or a trick so that the hare can pretend not to be in the race but win anyway by some sneaky transportation device. 

Ok, that’s cool. But what if the writers have the hare walk away, not to invent some ACME^TM super rocket, but to go cry in a corner? What if the hare is so depressed at his abilities that he hides in his burrow for a week? What if after that week, the hare comes out, just as he was before (super confident) and loses the race, and learns nothing in the process?

The hare suddenly doesn’t seem so recognisable anymore does he? I don’t know about you, but I suddenly feel grossed out by the hare, a little turned off - and I just made that all up as I was writing it!

The thing is, the character development has gone from a gradual arc to what I’ve termed a ’scribble’. It’s where the writers seem so busy focused on the plotline (getting from A to B) that they forget about characters, dynamics, arcs, or simplifying (the ideal example for me - and forgive me if I offend any sci fi buffs out there - is to compare Stargate to Farscape. The former is so concerned over explaining the plot, they have one-dimensional characters; the latter focuses on the character development, where the plot is subservient to the dynamics of the cast. Another example is the never-learning sitcom characters that stay the same in every episode). In some ways, I liken this to the ‘layer’ vs ‘explosion’ style of puppet design (more on that later, but for the moment: layering is beginning with what you need and adding layers of what you’d like - streamlining - and explosion is starting with too much design and not being able to scale back). 

Recently, whilst watching this TV show, I was really frustrated. The show is sci fi, so you expect some level of suspension of belief. But what makes sci fi watchable - and believable - is not that the stories could happen, but that the characters could really do what they do. This doesn’t just mean characters that believably turn into werewolves: I’m referring to the way they react to events and to the other characters around them. In this situation, the show I was watching had characters reacting as they should to certain things, and not reacting to those very same things later. For example, we have the tried-but-’true’ plotline of people from the 1950s ending up in a bunker and being surprised to learn everything’s changed some 30 years later when they come outside. In this show, these characters stood watching someone use a computer without questioning it; but only a few scenes later are befuddled by supermarkets and mobile phones. This isn’t an arc: this is a scribble! A right turn on how the character reacts!

Continuing with the example of the hare: what’s believable about the hare deciding not to run the race? Nothing. He’s so super confident, his ego wouldn’t let him back out - in fact, he’d probably insist on doing it anyway, no matter what happened - rain, snow, etc. What’s believable about him suddenly crying in a corner for a week? Nothing. Even if he lost his confidence, this character is too far into the extreme. He may yell, stomp his feet - but this is too much. What’s believable about then appearing to run the race and not becoming humble? Well, that may be in character, but we must also put the character arc in context with the other actions too. And in context, it just grates with the other events.

Of course, this all depends, to paraphrase Hitchcock, on the effect you’d like the audience to have. If you want the audience to revolt at your characters (as many ‘evil villains’ are supposed to, or many ‘crazy’ characters do) then making them into a scribble may be the effect you’re going for. But I suspect that the best evil villains have arcs too; take a look at Sylar on Heroes or any other long-running series. Is the villain arcing or scribbling? The best writers have both worlds, a tiny bit of scribble to keep you disliking the character, and then mostly arc so you can ‘love to hate’. These characters generally have gradual changes too, whether it be from plain villain to super villian, or from villain to hero, etc. The thing about villains is that they usually have some deeper character flaw or insight (as in comic book writing) which allows them to be more than just a guy trying to win a race.

(Of course, this being a puppetry site, one can not avoid saying: there is one Australian character who can get away with scribbles! Mr Squiggle, the children’s TV show, which literally takes a doodle and turns it into a picture… )

I suspect that this is where the revulsion comes from when shows ‘jump the shark’ (most people will understand the phrase, but just in case: ‘jumping the shark’ refers to the point where a TV show goes wrong and loses viewers. It comes from the moment where the Fonz literally jumps over a shark whilst waterskiing on Happy Days. Most viewers at the time stated that that was the point where they lost interest in the show). It’s not that the show becomes tired and stale - because that causes boredom, not revulsion - but because the characters are suddenly doing something or reacting in some way that is unbelievable, in the context of the show overall, the character’s personality and what we expect based on past behaviour, etc etc. Happy Days was fairly middle-of-the-road stuff. We can believe the Fonz is cool enough to do lots of things - but do we really believe anyone would water ski whilst wearing Speedos and a leather jacket? Do we believe the Fonz would do it in the context of his past behaviour? (Another great example is an alien appearing on The Flinstones that only Fred and Barney can see) Jumping the shark is literally taking the gradual curve of the arc and giving it a sharp and sudden turn - to the point that the audience is so turned off they walk away in disgust.

A character arc, then, must not necessarily be about what happens to the character, but rather how they react to what happens around them. Otherwise, you haven’t got a three-dimensional character arc or story, you’ve just got a widely rambling line in the form of a one-dimensional scribble. 

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