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Criticism
and Taste
As
Applicable to Motion Pictures
by Mortimer J. Adler, Ph.D.
Part 3
Unity of plot
Since we are concerned with the motion picture,
we shall henceforth ignore narratives, such as the
psychological novel, in which plot is not primary.
The unity of the plot depends upon the unity of the
action. This can be under stood negatively. A plot
is not properly unified if it depends upon the
unity of its hero or the unity of a problem or the
unity of a period. In all of these cases, the plot
development is bad because episodic. If its unity
depends upon the singleness of its hero, any
incidents are admitted into its structure so long
as they are incidents in which the hero is an agent
and whether or not they are causally related as the
parts of a single action. Such narratives are like
biographies, the unity of which is the life of a
single person. The psychological novel may be like
a biography, but the drama and the cinema should
not be. [1]
The same can be said for the other types of
inappropriate unity, illustrated by stories in
which a number of different individuals and actions
are put together because they are parallel
instances of the same human problem, such as
intolerance or ingratitude, or by stories in which
the only unity is that all the events and persons
occur at a certain time or at a certain place or
somehow cross each other's paths in space and
time.
Positively, unity of plot can be understood in
terms of the way in which the parts of a single
action are organized into a whole. Unity of plot
involves a unity in time, but not a unity of time:
the action need not occur at one time, but the
parts of it must be ordered sequentially in time.
The principle of this ordering defines the unity of
plot. The plot is divisible in two ways.
First, it can be divided into a beginning, a
middle and an end. The beginning is constituted by
the problem of the action, and by the choice among
alternative courses of action which is made by the
protagonist. The middle is constituted by the
complications which follow upon this choice: the
further choices which the protagonist makes because
of the consequences of his first choice, and the
consequences in turn of each of these choices.
It is in this part that most of the incidents
and episodes of the action occur, that character is
gradually revealed in greater detail and thought is
more fully expressed. The inner complications of
the action become interwoven with extraneous events
in the outer world, which can be summarized as the
good or bad fortune attending the career of the
protagonist. This is what Aristotle means by saying
that "incidents extraneous to the action are
frequently combined with a portion of the action
proper to form the complication."
The progressive complication finally reaches a
climax, a turning point in the story. After this
point is the end, constituted by the denouement, a
catastrophe or a benign resolution according as the
story is tragic, comic or melodramatic, and an
aftermath. This division of the parts of a single
action indicates that the unity of the plot depends
upon causality in the ordering of the incidents --
not all the incidents because the extraneous ones
happen as if by chance or fortune, but those
incidents which proceed from the character and
thought of the protagonist. Furthermore, the unity
is emphasized by the fact that the denouement is
the ultimate consequence of the original choice
made with respect to the initial problem. It is
this which binds the beginning, middle and end of a
story together into a single whole.
The other division of the plot is into two
parts: the complication and the unraveling, the
former including everything from the beginning to
the turning point of the action, the latter being
what happens thereafter. This division shows the
unity in terms of the crucial turning point, which
must be the consequence of what precedes and the
cause of what follows. The significance of this
second division will be seen later in the point
about the magnitude of the plot: it must be large
enough to include a turning point that is
intelligible in the light of what has gone before
and is illuminated by what follows. The first
division indicates another necessary feature of the
plot structure: the middle part should always be
the largest part. A story cannot be well told if
too large a part of it is involved in getting the
problem stated and the first choice made. The
beginning is too large if it is larger than the
middle. The same is true of the end.
The probability of the plot
This point follows in part from the rule that
the incidents of the action must be causally
related. A causal consequence is that which either
happens necessarily as the result of some prior
happening or that which happens for the most part.
The incidents are probable, therefore, if they
occur as normally they would in terms of human
nature and the nature of the physical world. In
other words, the sequence and conjunction of events
which constitute the unified action of the plot
must be such that the story is a likely or probable
one.
The rule of probability thus applies not only to
the action of the protagonist, but to the
portraiture of character and the expression of
thought. Even if the character is inconsistent or
the thought irrational, it must be consistently
inconsistent and irrational. "A person of a given
character should speak or act in a given way, by
the rule of necessity or probability, just as this
event should follow that by necessary or probable
sequence."
The rule further applies even to the extraneous
events that enter into the complication. Though
they appear to the protagonist to happen as if by
chance and as signs of good or bad fortune because
they are not foreseen or ordained by him, they must
nevertheless be probable incidents. It is the
violation of this rule of probability which makes
episodic plot development bad, and similarly plots
in which character and thought are in
consistent.
While it is generally recognized in criticism
that a good story must be a likely story, the rule
of probability to be followed in good plot
construction is misunderstood whenever it is
supposed that the criteria of probability in a poem
are the same as in science. Poetic truth is not
logical truth. What Aristotle says of tragedy, that
"the element of the wonderful is required," applies
to an fiction. The good story-teller is always one
like Homer, gifted in telling lies skillfully.
"Accordingly, the poet should prefer probable
impossibilities to improbable possibilities." This
indicates that the rule of probability is not the
same in fiction as in science.
For knowledge, the impossible can never be
probable. The probability of a story does not
depend on the nature of things alone as does the
probability of knowledge. It depends upon the art
of the story-teller. The rule of probability is,
therefore, the requirement that he make his story
appear to be a likely one, whether or not its
separate elements, viewed from the standpoint of
science, are impossible or absurd or slightly
probable. The impossible and the absurd are
intolerable in fiction only if the narrator fails
to veil them with poetic charm, which is another
way of saying that he fails to make them seem
probable. "Once the irrational has been introduced
and an air of likelihood has been imparted to it,
we must accept it in spite of its absurdity."
Aristotle goes so far as to approve of Agathon's
dictum that in story-telling even an improbable
event can be made to appear probable because, as he
says, "it is probable that many things should
happen contrary to probability."
The importance of this insight into the nature
of probability in fiction cannot be overemphasized
in the light of the tendency of current criticism
to misunderstand the point. Much of the criticism
of motion pictures uses the canon of probability as
if the likelihood of a story depended upon its
being life-like in the simple-minded sense of
conforming to reality as it is. [2]
There is probably no greater error which the
artist or critic can make than this simple-minded
realism or naturalism. If the rule of probability
be interpreted as a requirement that art be
realistic or naturalistic, it falsifies the nature
of art as imitation involving both similitude and
difference. Far from being better because it is
highly probable -- in the sense of realistic --
such a story is bad as a work of art. A highly
fanciful tale, a tale that the realists would
despise, is much better fiction if it satisfies the
sole condition of being invested with poetic
likelihood by narrative skill. In short, the
principle of probability in artistic imitation
differing from the principle of probability in
science, determines two extremes which are bad:
improbable fantasy, on the one hand, and
"scientific" realism, on the other.
The story must be probable, but it must also be
a story, and not a piece of faithful reporting. In
other words, fiction is like history, but it is not
history. The difference resides in the different
conditions of probability that apply in each case.
The Odyssey with all its impossible adventures on
sea and land is a good story because of Homer's
great gift in telling lies, a much better story as
a work of art than an accurate historical narrative
of just what actually did take place in the voyage
of Odysseus from Troy to Ithaca.
There is, of course, one further paradox
involved. Even the historian or the realistic
novelist at his worst extreme cannot avoid being an
artist in fiction. He is always telling a story
whether or not he is willing to acknowledge that
the conditions of good story-telling are not the
conditions of science. In a sense, realism and
fantasy are impossible extremes. They are never
really reached. There is no story which is totally
devoid of probability nor one which is not a work
of the imagination. The limits, therefore, merely
indicate that a good story combines in proper
proportion the factors of the wonderful and the
probable. The artist who tries to be realistic
never succeeds, but in trying so hard to go in one
direction, he may fail to achieve a good proportion
of these factors.
It is evidence of the essential rightness of
Pudovkin's under standing of the technique of the
cinema that he always recognizes the pitfalls of
naturalism. The tendency toward simple minded
naturalism is more insidious in film-making than in
writing, because of the superficially realistic
character of photographs. It is this which makes
montage crucially important, for it is by montage
that naturalism can be most effectively avoided.
But the basic principle of montage requires that
film sequences be composed in a probable order, not
the kind of probability which consists in fidelity
to the way things actually appear, but the
imaginative probability of the way in which things
might appear to an ideal observer. We shall return
to this point later in a discussion of filmic
style. Here it is important only to note the way in
which the rule of probability relates narrative and
filmic style in the making of a motion picture.
To be good, a motion picture, like any other
work of fiction, must avoid the extremes of
reportorial realism and the improbably fantastic.
Criticism which fails to understand this principle
is as bad as art which futilely seeks to reach
either extreme.
Notes:
1. This does not mean that the film cannot be
used as a medium for biography. Recently it has
been well used in this way. But biography and
fiction in the medium of language must be guided by
different principles and subject to different
standards of judgment. Similarly in the case of the
film.
2. Dr. Edgar Dale, How to Appreciate Motion
Pictures, New York, 1935: "One of the most
important things the motion picture can do is to
show truthfully the consequences that come from
making certain choices in life" (p. 96). See also
pp. 206-208.
--To Part
4--
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