Now that we’ve identified five different Character elements across a few different titles – Relatability in Star Wars, Driving Need (and Introductions) in Curse of the Black Pearl, Vulnerability and Stakes in Die Hard, and Change across The Terminator films – it should be obvious that few protagonists, even the most effective ones, embody every element simultaneously.
Having taken a brief hiatus from the Summer of Effective Protagonists to denounce Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom as a steaming triceratops turd, I now return to my ongoing series with renewed vigour and depleted rage tanks. Incidentally, despite not being the only critic to refer to Fallen Kingdom as a triceratops turd, I have yet to meet anybody in person who didn’t unequivocally adore it. To liberally paraphrase Professor Farnsworth, this pervading lack of taste makes me not want to live on this planet anymore, but alas! I have far too much to do before I may leave it in good conscience – like analyze a new Character element in the Terminator films.
After my last post on the dual power of Character wants and effective introductions in Pirates of the Caribbean: Curse of the Black Pearl, somebody made the astute observation that the only protagonists I’ve selected for analysis thus far have been white males.
Well anyway, today we’ll be conducting a breakdown of Detective John McClane in Die Hard.
In my last entry, I introduced this fascinating and radical new series on Effective Protagonists with an examination of Luke Skywalker in the context of the first Star Wars film. In analyzing his hopes, frustrations, uncertainties, conflicts, and growth from angsty farm boy to dapper rebel hero, we determined that it is his innate relatability that makes him an effective character, and until somebody proves me wrong in the comments section (which I moderate like a KGB postal censor) my words shall be taken as gospel.
What is the most integral element of a film? What keeps the viewer wholly invested in what’s unfolding on the screen? What is it that draws us so willingly and eagerly into the cinematic experience and makes us feel like we’re a vital part of the action?
If you answered ‘full-frontal nudity,’ well dear reader… you just might be on to something.
But the correct and more church-friendly answer is ‘Character.’ If one were to consider Story as an architectural structure – perhaps a Greek temple – Character would be one of the two largest and most crucial loadbearing columns alongside Plot. Which of these two columns is more critical in the support of Story’s narrative integrity than the other is a debate for another day, but I’m personally of the persuasion that effective characters can compensate for an ineffective plot more than the opposite (think about it – if we care about an individual well enough, it’s fairly easy to get invested in whatever they’re doing).