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A rule says, You must do it this way. A principle says, This worksand has through all remembered time. The difference is crucial. Anxious, inexperienced writers obey rules. Rebellious, unschooled writers break rules. Artists master the form. 

Often when I drive my three-year-old daughter to school, I manufacture and tell her a story along the way. She loves it and I, modesty be damned, often come up with fairly good stories, most involving her in some positive, challenging role. During a recent trip, I spun a yarn that can be summarized thusly: Charlize got up in the morning, went to school, played with her best friend Priya, came back, had her dinner, and went to bed. My daughter gave this an instant two thumbs down, It is a stupid story. 

So, why is it a stupid story? How come it didnt appeal to a little kid who hasnt yet graduated from pre-school? There is a reason and it is this: 

Nothing moves forward in a story except through conflict. Conflict is to story telling what sound is to music. The music of story is conflict. As long as conflict engages our thoughts and emotions we travel through the hours unaware of the voyage. Story is metaphor for life, and to be alive is to be in seemingly perpetual conflict. As Jean-Paul Sartre expressed it, the essence of reality is scarcity, a universal and eternal lacking. There isnt enough of anything in the world to go around. Not enough food. Not enough love. Not enough justice. And never enough time. If, for example, we manage to satisfy our external desires and find harmony in the world, in short order serenity turns into boredom. Now Sartres scarcity is the absence of conflict itself. Boredom is the inner conflict we suffer when we lose desire, when we lack a lacking.

The reason my Charlize story didnt command a standing ovation from my tiny audience of one is that it lacked conflict. It lacked a lacking. Charlize is a fairly happy camper who leads, if the day in account is any index, a pedestrian, mundane existence. An existence that is not fit for a story. It would have been if, say, Charlize takes her most prized and treasured possession an expensive magic marker that she got for her birthday a year ago to school and it is stolen. Charlize, a smart cookie, sets a trap to find out the thief. The trap works. But the situation becomes worse and the plot thickens. The thief, she finds out, is her best friend Subbalakshmi. Or, worse, her teacher Mrs Bullfinger-Agnieszka. Charlize now has a problem. She must decide. And act. There looms a struggle between ethics, friendship, loyalty, power and possession... conflict... the audience cannot wait to know how it plays out. 

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Stories fascinate us. Stories bring us together and bind us with a common context. Story is the currency of human contact. We are all suckers for a good story. Which explains why millions abandon everything else, pay good money and walk into theaters daily to give their whole for two to three hours. They want to be told a story. A good, goddamned gripping story. They walk down the aisles and sit there, captive, willing and waiting to cry, to laugh, to be scared. Tell me a good story, please! is the plaintive universal cry. The need is as powerful in an adult as it is in a child. Once upon a time has as entrancing an effect on a kid as this prelude from a friend has on the adults at a party, It was 2 am Saturday morning and we were sound asleep. Suddenly the doorbell rang. As I was getting to the door, the phone went crazy. I picked up the phone and it was the police. 

The quotes above (in italics) come from a remarkably brilliant and compelling book Story by Robert McKee that talks about the principles of good film writing. In this magnificent book, McKee explains the art and form of story telling in a gripping manner. 

India is the biggest producer of films in the world. Of late, we are getting better at making 'good' movies that appeal not just to the South Asians worldwide but also crossover to a global audience. The influence of a nation is proportional to its ability to export its culture in addition to projecting its economic and military might. Indian films, music and books are finding bigger and bigger audience (examples: Oprah recommends Rohinton Mistry's A Fine Balance, V.S. Naipaul wins the Nobel, Mira Nair's Monsoon Wedding wins the Venice Film Festival's Golden Lion and a Golden Globe nomination and I read in the New York Times that the whole of Afghanistan is rocking to Indian music.) Film is a powerful medium that not only entertains but offers those rare glimpses into the meaning of life in a concise and easy-to-assimilate fashion.

I have been fascinated for some time as to what makes for good stories, particularly for films, and this article seeks to summarize the salient points and insights I have learned from McKees landmark classic with quotes drawn from his best-selling book. But this cannot do justice to the original. If you really want to learn and be inspired by the art of the story, you have to read the book itself. 

You must one thing in your mind keep: I am neither an expert nor a master of the craft. I have never written one page of a movie plot, leave alone see it made into filmed entertainment. I am merely a beginner, a student. All that follows is borrowed wisdom and swiped understanding. Not one bit of it is an invention or creation of my own. I am merely recounting what is inspiring me -- and what rings true -- as I set out to get a better understanding. So, please be kind and start reading with an avuncular, affectionate disposition. And maybe post an encouraging comment. (Note: I have used a few popular Indian movies to illustrate some of the principles.)

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If you are good, you will be recognized. The oft-proffered excuse in any domain of human endeavor is of unappreciated talent and unrecognized genius. With rare exceptions, this is a myth. If you are good -- I mean really top notch -- you will get somewhere. First-rate screenplays are at least optioned if not made. For writers who can tell a quality story, its a sellers market always has been, always will be. This applies to not just film stories but also the written word in the form of novels and short stories. Success is a byproduct of passion. 

Form and formula. Basics of success. If there is one thing that can be told about the cinema commerce, it is this: there is no recipe to a story that assures success. If there is one, we wouldn't be seeing so many duds. In a way, making a movie is like playing chess. In chess, you cannot duplicate a set of moves nor memorize a particular game to win consistently. You must understand the funda of chess, winning patterns and principles of sound, strategic play such as the control of center, rooks on an open file, networked pawns or, even better, passed pawns. Like in chess, there is no formula for success in story-telling. Story is far too rich in mystery, complexity, and flexibility to be reduced to a formula. Only a fool would try. Rather, writer must grasp story form. This is inevitable. Ramesh Sippy's Sholay (script by Javed Akhtar and Salim Khan) worked and succeeded because it ushered in a new genre. Numerous me-too copies that followed Sholay bombed. 

Know your story. Avoid clichs. People come out of movie theaters frustrated and gritting their teeth because either the story doesn't hang together or it is recycled trash. Most film story writers don't work hard enough to research their story, dwell on the generation and selection of scenarios, live with their characters and understand the principles of story-telling. Understand the principles enough to write something that is original and exciting. Too often we exit theaters bored by an ending that was obvious from the beginning, disgruntled because we have seen those clichd scenes and characters too many times before. The cause of this worldwide epidemic is simple and clear; the source of all clichs can be traced to one thing and one thing alone: The writer does not know the world of his story. (Thorough) knowledge and insight into the world of your story is fundamental to the achievement of originality and excellence. Nothing good comes easy. Nothing great can be accomplished without grueling, hard, smart work. To make something original and exciting, you have to spend time understanding your story's context and its players.

Controlling idea. All said and done, a story has to hang together. Coherence is essential because the audience can sense thematic integrity. Ashutosh Gowariker's Lagaan hangs together, whereas the much hyped Yaadein by Subhash Ghai falls apart. Two ideas bracket the creative process: Premise, the idea that inspires the writer's desire to create a story, and controlling idea, the story's ultimate meaning expressed through action and aesthetic motion of the last act's climax. What McKee says is that the premise is the seed from which the rest originates and evolves. 'What if a village commoner is challenged by a ruthless colonial governor to a game of cricket?' The controlling idea is a short, succinct statement of the movie's core idea that identifies the cause that results in a change in the charge: "Lagaan. A village commoner rallies his inept buddies to vanquish his imperial British rulers in a game of cricket". The key for thematic coherence of the entire movie is to pull together characterization and characters, inciting incidents, supporting scenes...every thing...to underwrite and buttress the controlling idea. Everything that is in the movie must -- must -- contribute in some manner to the controlling idea. If it doesn't, it should go.

Three story designs. All film plots belong to one or more of the following three categories: Classical Design, Minimalism, Anti-Structure. Most movies, particularly Indian movies, belong to the Classical Design category. Most classics and hits also belong to this genre. Classical design is built around an active protagonist (hero/heroine) protagonist who struggles against primarily external forces of antagonism to pursue his or her own desire, through continuous time, within a consistent and causally connected fictional reality, to a closed ending of absolute irreversible change. Take Lagaan. Bhuvan (Ameer Khan) is the active protagonist (hero) who struggles against the force of a hard-hearted British ruler and overcomes it (as opposed to fighting inner demons of existential angst or childhood deprivation of motherly love and nurturing). The film runs through linear time and everything that appears in the movie is plausible within that fictional reality, except perhaps the final proclamation that Elizabeth forever treasured Bhuvan in her heart like Radha pined for Krishna to eternity...yeah sure! The ending closes the loop opened in the first thirty minutes and there is irreversible change. A Minimalist plot is one where there are multiple protagonists, the ending is open, the conflict is internal. The protagonists in a minimalist plot are typically passive (as opposed to those in the classical design) and life happens to them. On the other end is Anti-Structure that defies a definition and therein lies its purpose. It turns all rules over its head. It might start with the ending and end with the beginning; real and imaginary meld in a seamless and perhaps confusing manner, motives are unclear, underlying passions and assumptions may be hard to divine...you just don't know. I think almost all French films fall into this category ;-)

Structural decomposition of a film. Just like a book has chapters, a movie also has chapters, not overtly visible but still there. These are called acts. Act is a set of scenes that together complete one major movement in the evolution of the story. There are, as in most films, three acts in Lagaan. Act One is from the start to the point where Bhuvan accepts the challenge of Capt. Russell. Act Two involves the arduous preparation for the cricket match. Act Three is the resolution of the tension, the denouement, when the match is actually played out. In Act One, the audience is informed of the hardship of the drought, the unbearable burden of the tax (lagaan), the cruelty of the British governor and the rising of Bhuvan to the challenge. The pain and the defiance build the empathetic bond between Bhuvan and the audience. Act Two strengthens this empathetic bond by laying out the difficulties they go through with the subplots of the love triangle and the betrayal adding to the tension. Act Three resolves the tension. In most classically designed movies, the split of time duration between the three acts is about 25%-60%-15%. Of course, each act comprises a string of scenes that support its theme. For example, the Rajah Puran Singh's lunch meeting with Capt. Russell in the first act is a scene. This scene drives home three things: the impotence of the Rajah, the condescending mean-spiritedness of Capt. Russell and, finally, the kind-hearted benevolence of Elizabeth. Now, we cultivate a hatred for the Captain, a kind of revulsion for the boot-licking Rajah and an affection for Elizabeth. The Captain, we know subconsciously, will be the guy to fight against; we can't count on the Rajah to do anything; and that Elizabeth will somehow come to our help. Film writing is nothing but creating compelling characters deserving of our empathy, a story line that incorporates these characters in a coherent design of acts and scenes that command and control our attention from the beginning to the end. 

Character and characterization. A story has a plot and characters that populate it and propel it forward. Whether plot is more important than the character or vice-versa has been a matter of debate. The key to resolving this difference is to understand the difference between character and characterization. Characterization is the sum of all observable qualities of a human being, everything knowable through careful scrutiny: age and IQ; sex and sexuality; style and speech and gesture; choice of cars and homes; personality and nervosity...so on...all aspects of humanity we could know by taking notes on someone day in and day out. The assemblage of these traits -- unique to each human being -- is characterization...but is not character. Going back to our Lagaan example, Bhuvan characterization, painted in the first 20-30 minutes, is that of a charming village youth. His character, however, is revealed when he is faced with conflict and pressure from the British governor. True character is revealed in the choices a human being makes under pressure -- the greater the pressure, the deeper the revelation, the truer the choice to the character's essential nature. Characterization tells you the superficial traits. Character is the true self, the inner core. Movies are most interesting when the character, as revealed through the course of the movie, is different from characterization. In Mahesh Bhatt's Arth, Pooja (Shabana Azmi) is interesting because we see the emergence of a steel-willed woman from the stereotype of a docile Indian housewife. The revelation of true character in contrast or contradiction to characterization is fundamental to all fine storytelling. The revelation of Bhuvan's character as a fearless fighter and an inspiring leader who can overcome seemingly Herculean odds contrasts with his initial characterization as a regular rural farmer type. Therein lies the charm of Lagaan. This leads to this further realization: in the telling of a story, pressure is essential. Choices made when nothing is at risk mean little. But through pressure points and conflict, the story moves forward and reveals the true nature of the lead players. Good stories include absorbing conflicts and pressure situations to which the key roles react and act in a compelling manner.

Protagonist. Protagonist is a fancy techno word for your hero or heroine, the lead character who is instrumental for the progression of the story. He is the hero because without him there is no story. She is the lead because she causes movement. McKee lays down some rules of how protagonists ought to be shaped for satisfying stories: 

• First, the protagonist must be a willful character. Going back to Lagaan, Bhuvan is definitely a man of forceful will. He overcomes the mighty British through sheer force of will and determination. In Sholay, all three protagonists -- Thakur Baldev Singh (Sanjeev Kumar), Jai (Amitabh Bachchan) and Veeru (Dharmendra) -- are all men of will and strength to exert that will. So is Bheeku Mathre (Manoj Bajpai) in Ramgopal Varma's Satya. This will power should be able to see our guy or gal through conflict and adversity and more. When Basanti (Hema Malini) is abducted by Gabbar Singh (Amjad Khan) in Sholay, Veeru doesn't sit there wringing his hands, complaining about how bad things are. He gets his gun, jumps on his horse and rides right into the enemy camp. Foolish perhaps, but certainly not wanting of will. The same came be said of Demetrius (Denzel Washington), a black carpet cleaner caught up in a spicy South Asian romance, in Mira Nair's gripping Mississippi Masala and Mario Ruoppolo (Massimo Troisi), a miserable village postman who understands the power of poetry and emotion, in Michael Radford's flawless Il Postino.

• Second, the protagonist should have conscious desire that informs his decisions and actions. Bhuvan wants to win the cricket match and save the village (Lagaan). Thakur saab wants to get that bastard Gabbar (Sholay). Willful people know, consciously or otherwise, what they want and are willing to sacrifice and risk stuff to get there. In Arth, Pooja (Shabana Azmi) wants independence and a partner who respects her. She is willing to say 'Get lost' to her husband of many years to get her heart's desire of respect and freedom. In Kamal Haasan's Hey Ram offers an interesting twist where the protagonist Saket Ram (Kamal Haasan) has conscious desire that transforms from seeking vengeance to loving peace.

• Third, the protagonist must have the abilities and a chance to pursue the object of his conscious desire within the realistic possibilities of the genre and setting. In Lagaan, thought it was stretching it a bit, the audience believed that it was possible for Bhuvan to win. In Sholay, we know it is possible for our dynamic duo to get Gabbar. 

• Fourth, the protagonist must move the story to a satisfying ending beyond which the audience cannot imagine anything else. In Lagaan, the match ends with an Indian victory and the humiliated British fellow packs his bags and is shipped off. That's it. Done, finished, closed. The audience leaves the theater, sated and satisfied. 

• Finally, the protagonist must be empathetic; he may or may not be sympathetic. Bhuvan's character is definitely empathetic. You may not sympathize with him but you definitely feel the pain of his struggle and you want him to win. If you can cross over to the other side of the silver screen, you would like to be in on his team. McKee says: Empathetic means like me. The unconscious logic of the audience runs like this: "This character is like me. Therefore, I want him to have whatever it is he wants, because if I were he in those circumstances, I'd want the same thing for myself." Pooja's character in Arth is empathetic too; you want her to get away from her insensitive and abusive husband. This empathy is fundamental to building the bond between the audience and the story. In Il Postino, empathy is cultivated in such a masterful manner that you start to weep -- at least I did -- for Mario Ruoppolo at the end.

Inciting Incident. Most movies start with a certain stable context. This context is upset by an inciting incident that poses pressures on the protagonist (the lead role). The inciting incident radically upsets the balance of forces in the protagonist's life. In Lagaan, the inciting incident is when Capt. Russell throws the gauntlet at Bhuvan and Bhuvan accepts it. The inciting incident must be a dynamic, fully developed event (as opposed to something static or vague) that radically upsets the balance of forces in the protagnonist's life. At any point in a film, there is a certain charge, either positive or negative. When James Bond finds out the secret nuclear factory location of the fellow bent on destroying all that we deem cool and dandy, we are happy and the charge is positive. When the Evil One traps and threatens to kill Bond and his nymphet, the charge is negative. The inciting incident alters the charge of the movie in a significant way, throwing things out of whack. In Devdas, the inciting incident is when Devdas' father rejects Parvati and Parvati's father decides to get her married to an old zamindar. But inciting incidents can turn the charge to the positive also. In Vamshi's Ladies Tailor (Telugu), one of my favorite movies and a hilarious one, the inciting incident is a soothsayer telling our poor tailor hero (Rajendra Prasad) that he would become astoundingly rich and famous if he only if were to marry a beautiful girl with a mole on her thigh...an incident that triggers off his search for the mole and the thigh plus the girl that go with it. The writer must spend a lot of time designing the inciting incident so that it really is grips and alters the mood of the audience drastically so it gets engaged in the story. And the protagonist must react to the inciting incident...remember our protagonist is a willful character. 

Crescendo of Alternating Charges.  This dovetails with the principle of conflict above. Films are about fluctuating charges. You cannot have a movie that starts out with a guy having a good life. Then it becomes better. And then, you know what, it gets even better. And that's it. No, that won't work. The movements have to turn positive and negative and the magnitude of reversals must increase from the beginning to the end. In Sholay, Gabbar's goons come to rob the town, then they kill one of the village youth, then they abduct Basanti and trap Veeru...increasingly heinous acts that are interspersed with some gains for the protagonists. A story must not retreat to actions of lesser quality or magnitude, but move progressively forward to a final action beyond which the audience cannot imagine another. 

Principle of Antagonism. Up-ending movies -- movies that end on a positive note leaving the audience in a jolly mood -- are generally  more successful than down-ending ones. Great up-ending movies, as we mentioned above, don't start with things being good and they get better and then they end up being like really awesome. For up-ending movies to work, the horse that we are betting on must triumph over a really evil one. The principle of antagonism is the most important and least understood precept in story design. Neglect of this fundamental concept is the primary reason films fail. What does McKee mean by that? He says that for good to be delightful it must overcome really tough odds. He says: A protagonist and his story can only be as intellectually fascinating and emotionally compelling as the forces of antagonism make them. Your Jai and Veeru in Sholay appear great only because Gabbar Singh is such a bad fellow. Our heart goes out to Bhuvan in Lagaan because Capt. Russell and his British empire are so coldhearted, malicious and repressive. In Ladies Tailor (Telugu), the enormous difficulty of inspecting a girl's thigh for a mole in a close-knit, conservative society gets you all tensed up. What are these forces of antagonism? It is the sum total of all forces that oppose the character's will and desire. So you should spend more of your time thinking about your forces of antagonism than your protagonist. If you are writing Sholay, you should, McKee exhorts, spend more time making Gabbar repulsive than Jai endearing.

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I am sure there are more subtle principles (that I am ignorant of and) that inform great movie-making, but, in any case, the compass of an article makes it hard to cover them all. I would like to close this article by providing a list of quotes drawn from different sources that are related, some tangentially, to film making:

• There is no beginning. There is no end. There is only the infinite passion of life. [Frederico Fellini]

• The first draft of anything is shit. [Ernest Hemingway]

• A beautifully told story is a symphonic unity in which structure, setting, character, genre, and idea meld seamlessly. To find their harmony, the writer must study the elements of story as if they were instruments of an orchestra -- first separately, then in concert. [Robert McKee]

• When forced to work within a strict framework the imagination is taxed to its utmost -- and will produce its richest ideas. Given total freedom the work is likely to sprawl. [T. S. Eliot]

• Genuine feelings create theatrical magic, and they cannot be generated if our senses aren't stimulated, and our perceptiveness isn't electrified. [Carolous Koun]

• He conquers who endures. [Persius]

• A good traveler has no fixed plans, and is not intent upon arriving. A good artist lets his intuition lead him wherever it wants. A good scientist has freed himself of concepts and keeps his mind open to what is. [Lao Tzu]

And, ladies and gentlemen, that's a wrap!