THE INDEPENDENCE OF FICTIONAL CHARACTERS
When a human being (the future character) is created, there is almost nothing: no recognizable shape, no consciousness, no awareness of needs, no attitude, no critical thinking, no past, no traumas, no happiness, no known goals for the future, and no conflicts, of course. That seed of life is helpless and makes no decisions at all. A creature is dependent on conditions in a mother’s womb. The future human — this small seed — can’t harm anyone or intentionally make someone happy. There is no hate, love, vanity, greed, or mercy. Sometimes mothers say, “He/she is kicking me. It will be a football player or ballet dancer.”
The moment the baby is born, it shows its first emotions. Initially, it’s a feeling of liking or disliking, expressed through crying, smiling, or peaceful sleep. The baby is still entirely dependent on parents or caregivers. It will not be able to influence the world around them. A young human will learn how to use its voice to ask for something or refuse something else. A child will start to adopt many values, customs, rules, and much more. A sketch of a character begins to take shape. Parents play a crucial role in developing a human. Biology plays its part, and the social environment fills many gaps in the process.
Step by step, young humans will begin to show their will and fight for independence. Puberty can be a real battle, especially if parents want to exert excessive control over their children. Parents’ control becomes less possible with each passing day. By the age of eighteen, we no longer refer to them as kids, even though many mothers and fathers would like to freeze time, live, and maintain control over their children’s lives forever. However, sooner or later, young people will achieve their independence.
There is a difference between parents. Some would seek to control their children forever in order to protect them, while others will teach their children how to protect themselves when parents are not around and offer them some independence. More freedom means more responsibility.
In any case, there comes a moment when parents can no longer influence their children’s speech, thoughts, eating habits, clothing choices, voting preferences, life decisions, and most importantly, how they raise their own children. At that moment, they can love each other again and be friends without possessing each other. The war for independence is over.
Creating fictional characters
We can assume that creating fictional characters in stories (novels, theater plays, scripts) is much easier than raising kids. How can a fictional character fight for independence and defy a writer’s wishes? Is it possible for a fictional character to resist when a creator controls everything? How can a fictional character do something that a writer doesn’t want them to do, or not do something that a creator would like?
The answer is “Yes, it can.” Similar to real children, fictional characters grow and “claim” their freedom from a creator during the writing process. The following thoughts are based on my personal experience as a writer, spectator, and reader. This essay is inspired by the workshop “Skyrocket Your Writing,” held by David Paul Kirkpatrick in the spring of 2023, with a focus on character building.
When writers face a blank page, their freedom is limitless. They can take a story to the past, present, an unknown future, or even combine all of them. Choosing the genre or blending multiple genres is also limitless. Creating characters knows no bounds. This freedom of storytelling is undisputed, but only in the beginning. A writer is free to establish their own rules, but once these rules are set, they need to obey them and follow the logic of their own world. The audience will accept the rules set by the creator. The moment when a writer is no longer the absolute ruler of everything comes very early in the writing process.
For example, in a story set in ancient Rome, a writer can’t portray senators wearing jeans and riding Harleys, unless it is a comedy or surrealism. Mel Brooks did that in “Blazing Saddles,” but the comedy genre is established from the beginning.
That’s why he can involve Nazi soldiers, Romans, bikers, and Tarzan in a mass fight with cowboys. The camera pans out and reveals that the story is taking place in a film studio. On the other hand, it would be inconceivable for Charlie Chaplin to pan the camera wide during the great dictator’s speech and reveal the film studio behind him.
Chaplin followed his own rules, and Brooks followed his. Even Luis Buñuel broke all the rules while respecting his own surreal world.
Can you imagine Harry Lime (Orson Welles) opening his umbrella in “The Third Man” and singing in the rain in a dark street like Don (Gene Kelly) did in “Singing in the Rain”?
Can Hal 9000 kill astronaut David Bowman (Keir Dullea)? Can you envision a different ending for “2001: A Space Odyssey” where Bowman decides to return to the safety of Earth instead of venturing further towards Jupiter and the future?
Can Catherine, the character portrayed by Jeanne Moreau, make a final choice between Jules and Jim ever?
Lastly, can you imagine Zorba the Greek (Anthony Quinn) discussing the meaning of life after his dance on the beach, despite losing everything with his friend Basil (Alan Bates)? The meaning of life for that character is found in dancing on the beach. His monologue is the Sirtaki with a friend.
The creators of these beautiful movies followed their own rules, the logic of the stories, and the logic of the characters they created.
As a story unfolds, there is less room to change the established rules. However, unexpected twists are always welcome and necessary. A writer’s skills should respect both the established rules and the need for the unexpected. Classical music rules have been compared to trimming a tree on its sides so that it can grow tall.
Fictional characters, like children, grow on the pages and become beautiful, colorful pictures from initial sketches. The more a writer defines a character, the more powerful they become, and the less a writer can change them. The quality of a story depends on the situations in which the characters are placed and the interactions between them.
Allow me to provide a few examples. Actors love arias, especially towards the end of a story when their speeches become turning points or climaxes. However, not every character can deliver such a moment.
In “High Noon,” Will Kane (Gary Cooper) throws his sheriff badge into the dust in front of the people who betrayed him. Can you imagine him giving a speech about what happened, how angry or sad he is, or about leaving them while Amy Kane (Grace Kelly) is waiting for him? Certainly not. The character is defined as very strong, and like a real human, he doesn’t allow the writer to give him such a speech. Throwing the badge is his final statement.
Can you imagine the character of Berger (Treat Williams) returning from Vietnam as a hero with military rankings at the end of “Hair”? Absurdly, his death is a happier ending than if he had survived but changed his attitude and character. Berger fought for freedom and against the war throughout, and he couldn’t betray himself in the end, even if the writer wished to save him. His death was inevitable, much like in Greek tragedies.
Can you picture the gladiator (Russell Crowe) begging for mercy in a fight with the emperor at the end of “Gladiator”? It’s difficult to imagine.
We don’t have insight into all the details of the writing process for these incredible stories. I can share examples from my own experience. Although I didn’t sell those scripts, my journey as a writer was valuable, and I learned from my mistakes. I wrote a script about a scientist from Yale who invented a “drink of truth,” a comedy. I needed a supporting character in the story — his wife’s lover. I created the character of Leonardo, an Italian loser. Leo turned out to be funny and “demanded” more space in the story. I wrote many funny lines and actions for him. It was good for the character but not for the story. Leo started overshadowing other characters, consuming all the oxygen. I couldn’t control him. When I finished the script and read it, I realized that the funniest moments occurred in short episodes with Leo on the margins of the story, rather than in the main plot. He fought for his independence from me, even though we shared the same goal — a good story. Interestingly, I’m talking about him as if he were a real human. He felt real in my mind. I let go of the original story and never revised it. Instead, I wrote a completely different script with Leo as the lead character.
In another comedy script I wrote, “The Italian Assassin,” Leo has a grandfather, a former mafia boss, serving a life sentence in prison. The grandfather receives a presidential pardon and is released, leading to an interesting and emotional relationship between the two of them. However, the character of the grandfather became stronger than Leo's. Fortunately, they are both lead characters, and the grandfather’s strength didn’t overshadow Leo.
Then, I started writing a script with three main characters — a mother, a father, and a daughter. The parents are going through a divorce, and the mother hires a messy old lawyer from the province because she can’t afford a good one. While writing scenes with the mother and the lawyer, I noticed that his character started to dominate. I had created a character who suddenly became independent of me. Since I had experienced this before, I stopped writing and allowed the lawyer’s character to grow within me. I never start writing without knowing the ending. I needed a new ending for the story about the mother, daughter, and the lawyer as the lead characters. Apologies to the father’s character, but he needed to try harder. Now, I have my ending and will continue writing as soon as I finish this essay.
The process of creating characters doesn’t end when the writing is complete. Casting, directing actors, and performances are equally important. They can enhance the power of the characters in ways that producers and directors can’t resist.
Marta F. Kauffman shared with us at the workshop at Story Summit that one character in “Friends” wasn’t initially written as stupid. The actor brought that element to the character during the early rehearsals. The creators were surprised, but they liked it, and it stayed that way for many episodes.
What are the limits of a character’s independence? In the exceptional TV show “Breaking Bad,” everything was perfect, including the amazing characters. They evolved and grew with the story. One of the vital characters, Hank (Dean Norris), gets killed. At the very end, the main character, Walter (Bryan Cranston), dies. The audience wanted more, but how could the main character be brought back to life and still remain within the realistic genre? The creators needed to choose a new leading role while staying true to the atmosphere of “Breaking Bad.” It could have been another main character like Jesse (Aaron Paul), or Walter’s wife Skyler (Anna Gunn), or his son Walter Jr. (RJ Mitte), or someone else entirely. They chose the supporting character of the lawyer, Saul (Bob Odenkirk). A combination of a well-written character and excellent acting gave the character of the lawyer so much power and independence that a new series was created with him in the lead role, titled “Better Call Saul.”
When I mentioned earlier that characters can’t change, I didn’t mean that they can’t transform during the story. New life circumstances bring about something new in people, but those are the same characters in a new environment. We don’t know what we are capable of until we are pushed to our limits. In “Breaking Bad,” the main character can’t do something at the beginning that he becomes capable of later in the story.
The transformation takes place over five seasons and gradually reveals a cruel criminal monster emerging from a once-decent high school chemistry teacher. Everything is well-prepared, motivated, and executed. If someone were to watch the first season and then the fifth season, they wouldn’t believe the transformation. The creators showed us this incredible metamorphosis step by step. They can’t do whatever they want. Writers can create new situations, but characters will behave according to their personalities established by the creators. The circumstances may change, but the characters’ freedom remains undeniable.
We must distinguish between discovery and transformation of a character. In the case of discovery, characters do or say something unexpected, and we understand that they were pretending and hiding their true nature, but they haven’t transformed. The audience may think, “Oh, if only I had paid closer attention, I would have seen it coming.”
Both discovery and transformation are welcome if they emerge naturally from the characters and the logic of the story. Characters should “agree” with writers about their actions. That’s why writers should respect their fictional characters, whether they are good or bad.
The question arises: Is it good or bad to create such strong characters who gain independence from their creator? It depends on what kind of writer (parent) you are. For me, it’s great. A writer (parent) helps their character (child) develop and flourish, and then lets them go on their own journey. A writer provides them with a good sailing boat and equipment, and allows the fictional characters (children, students) to sail far, far into the hearts of the audience to deliver a message of love.
That’s creation.
