The Three-Act Structure

     Let us observe Hollywood's three-act structure, and how it applies to Alfred Hitchcock's suspenseful masterpiece, Vertigo.
     The first act of Vertigo is the introduction to the film's story; it establishes how our protagonist, played by Jimmy Stewart, explores and discovers the character of a mysterious married woman, played by Kim Novak. To start off the film, Stewart, a retired detective with a paralyzing fear of heights, is informed by his friend that the woman is behaving strangely, and that her behavior must somehow be secretly monitored to unearth a mysterious secret. This sense of mystery propels the story forward - the audience observes the woman's strange behavior, and, like Stewart, cannot discern what secret might explain her actions. The woman's behavior grows more and more blatantly mysterious, and meanwhile, various possible connections begin to arise between her identity and her actions. Eventually, the woman jumps into the bay as if to drown herself, causing Stewart to come to her rescue; this serves as the film's first plot point. It wraps up the segment of the film in which Stewart approaches her mysterious lifestyle, and propels the film forward into a newfound relationship between the two characters. The first act of this movie is somewhat slower and longer than many conventional first acts, ranging from forty to fifty minutes; this slowness builds upon the mystery and the tantalizing nature of Novak's strange lifestyle.
     The second act of Vertigo introduces unnerving complications to the two characters' relationship. Throughout this act, Stewart begins to discover Novak's uncanny identity crisis, meanwhile falling in love with the woman. Because the woman is married, and because the love is stifled beneath a sense of confusion and insanity, this peculiar romance serves as a complication to both characters. Neither Stewart or Novak are entirely comfortable in advancing the strange and secretive relationship, allowing a disconcerting tension for the audience. This tension builds up to the film's second plot point - the woman's madness eventually causes her to throw herself off the top of a bell tower, which Stewart, because of his fear of heights, is guiltily unable to prevent. Thus begins the movie's final act, in which Stewart must wage a mental war against his error and his guilt.
     The supposed suicide serves as a mental annihilation for Stewart, whose twisted affection and irreversible guilt stifle his ability to socially function. Therefore, throughout the final act of the film, Stewart takes the necessary actions to mentally fulfill and avenge himself, allowing for a mysterious kind of resolution, albeit tragic and twisted. Stewart tracks down a woman who is a stranger, claiming that the stranger bears a striking resemblance to his lost love. Although reluctant at first, the woman agrees to have dinner with him, seemingly satisfying a mental agitation in her admirer. As Stewart changes the woman more and more to increase her uncanny resemblance, the truth is eventually revealed - that this woman is, in fact, the person that he fell in love with, and that the woman who died was the victim of a planned murder. Thus, Stewart is compelled to revisit the scene of the death, recreating his opportunity to save her life. Although this woman, like the other, falls off of the bell tower to her death, Stewart silences the sense of mental incompleteness by allowing her to die;  he has come to a state of mental resolution, despite all the complications of anguish and insanity. Therefore, the scene of the woman's death serves as the film's climax. After so many questions and strange emotions of identity and love, the woman rests in peace, as well as Stewart's confusion and guilt.

Foreknowledge & The Sitcom

     One element that defines the television sitcom is the sense of viewer foreknowledge - that is, the idea that the viewer understands a sitcom's structural conventions before sitting down to watch any one episode. Though many sitcoms clearly share certain humorous conventions with one another, each one has a unique style in creating episodic narratives and providing humor. Some sitcoms tell a straightforward story with direct and universal humor. Others twist the conventional narrative, and use more subtle or sarcastic forms of humor. The important idea is that the viewer recognizes the show's format before the narrative is continued. What a sitcom then ultimately creates is a world that the viewer can dive into - a world which, like our own, develops patterns and tendencies that the viewer can learn to anticipate.
     This is the essential function of viewer foreknowledge in the sitcom genre - to give the on-screen universe a sense of attractiveness and exclusiveness. Once a viewer feels that he or she has come to 'know' the characters on the television show, or has grown familiar with the kinds of jokes that will be presented, the viewer is likely to feel attached to the setting of the sitcom, and will watch the show much more regularly. All in all, requiring foreknowledge makes the television show a greater investment. In order to enjoy the show to the fullest extent, viewers must invest themselves in a more regular pattern of viewing and a deeper understanding. This sense of foreknowledge is, by all means, what changes a sitcom from an ordinary television program into a living, breathing universe, in which countless viewers may become delightedly engaged.
     One such sitcom that I often enjoy is the notorious Family Guy. I feel that this show's most unique and significant contribution to the sitcom genre is the famed use of 'cut-away' jokes. This is an excellent example of a concept in which viewer foreknowledge is key. I have often seen family and friends view Family Guy for the first time. For these first-time viewers, the cut-away jokes often come as a surprise. Many of these comic cut-away intervals, especially the ones that do not involve the show's principal characters whatsoever, could be removed entirely from the episode without making any difference to the narrative - meaning, viewers without a foreknowledge of the tool are surprised by the jokes' inclusion. Fans of Family Guy expect good cut-away jokes as much as they expect a comical narrative, if not more so. They are aware of the standard joke, and view the show armed with a foreknowledge of the concept, allowing the joke to be repeated and varied in what is hopefully a satisfying delivery.

Shot Progession

     Filmmakers often use a kind of shot progression that moves from a general setting into one that is more specific. This progression begins with the long shot - a shot that establishes the setting and provides a sense of orientation for the audience - as if to answer the question 'Where are we?' Next, there is the medium shot; this shot, after we have been immersed into the setting, brings our attention to a specific object or character - as if to answer the question 'What are we supposed to be watching?' The progression then commonly concludes with the close-up, which focuses closely on one object or character after it has been brought to our attention - as if to answer the question 'What is important about this object or character?' This progression is a common tool in slowly bringing the audience toward details that are significant; rather than quickly launching the audience into an unfamiliar setting, it allows time for the relevant locations and details to be digested. Let us observe an instance of this familiar progression as it is utilized in one of my favourite films, The Wizard of Oz.
    
     This progression is used to introduce the audience to the character of the Scarecrow. As Dorothy wanders down the Yellow Brick Road, she passes a cornfield, in which the Scarecrow is only one of the many details brought to our attention. Because he is seen from a long distance, the audience is not yet focused on the Scarecrow as the center of attention; rather, the shot simply establishes the setting of the scene to follow:

  There are many details in the shot displayed above: Dorothy, Toto, the road, the fence, the cornfield, the trees, the backdrop, and the Scarecrow himself. All these details serve as the background of the scene's activity.
     Soon, the camera settles on the Scarecrow in a medium shot, as is seen on the right. Rather than seeing the Scarecrow as a part of the cornfield, our attention is directed directly to his figure hanging on the pole. This medium shot serves to inform us that the Scarecrow will be relevant to this scene: he is now, as is here dictated by the camera, a character to whom we will
 devote our attention. Thus, he is introduced to the film's storyline.




Finally, as is shown on the left, the camera draws into a closeup. This is an important step because it is during this shot that we begin to know the Scarecrow as a character. As he first begins describing his situation to Dorothy, the camera is close enough as to monitor the details of his expression, allowing the audience to become acquainted with the Scarecrow's qualities and/or characteristics. Therefore, by the time that the camera has moved from the medium shot to the closeup, we not only know that the Scarecrow is an important character, but also what kind of a character he is. The movement of the camera echoes this evolution, bringing our eyes toward the subject along with our minds.

     This common camera movement is a logical way of leading into a scene; it can lead into words, objects, places, or any other important aspect of a film's storyline. In this instance, it brings us slowly toward a character. After the progression has taken place, the audience recognizes the Scarecrow as a part of the storyline, and the film is allowed to expand into other aspects of the narrative.

Stars & Genre

     Many concepts come to mind amongst the star-studded climate of Hollywood's Golden Age. Peaking as the United States launched itself  into war, the studio system in this era displayed a focused yet extravagant perspective toward the art of cinema. An important component in the studios' structure was the connection between movie stars and movie genres; these two concepts, while they may seem somewhat interchangeable in the present day, were nearly inseparable to filmmakers and audiences of the Golden Age.
     Moviegoers of the time period, similar to today, were familiar with the various genres - musicals, westerns, mysteries, and crime thrillers, to name a few. However, during this time, audiences would have conceived stronger connections between certain actors and certain genres than they do today. Judy Garland was recognized as the centerpiece of the MGM musical, Edward G. Robinson was viewed as a staple of the gangster movie, and Gene Kelly was famous for his unparalleled dancing talent. The connections between these performers and their respective genres was so powerful, that oftentimes their very presence in a film would trump the genre of the work. Judy Garland, for instance, in the setting of a romantic comedy, would need to sing a song for her performance to reach its recognizable expectation.
     As a result of this concept, films of the Golden Age were given more formulaic narratives and plot devices. When audiences went to view these films, they were less interested in seeing the actual story unfold, and more interested in seeing the performers carry out expectations in the generic setting. Musicals would undoubtedly include a crowded, large-scale show-stopping number, and gangster features would conclude with the death of the principal gangster. The formula was established and understood; audiences did not view the movies in order to find out what would happen, but to see how effectively the performers executed their roles, and to connect with the understood concepts.
     A fine example of this idea is the role of Humphrey Bogart. Bogart was a classic 'tough guy,' a hard-boiled antihero who would find a solution to his problems through whatever difficult means. His dialogue was coarse and direct; his behavior was down-to-earth and unsentimental. Typically, Bogart would hold a position of authority, such as a policeman or detective, and would be tangled up in a legal mishap. We see that Bogart holds this position even in Casablanca: despite being understood as a war film of sorts, Bogart's commanding presence establishes that he is in control of his American saloon, and that he will solve problems on his own. Although, like his other characters, he seems rough and unemotional, 'sticking his neck out' for no one but himself, his actions eventually take charge of the conflict and lead the film to its resolution.

Family Sitcoms: Past & Present

     One of the most recognizable staples of American television is the family-based sitcom; throughout the decades, this format of television has maintained immense popularity and yet experienced dramatic evolution. In regarding the vast collection of series over time, the viewer is presented with one essential question: how have these television programs remained the same throughout the years, and how have they changed? While there are thousands of possible answers, I will observe two family-based sitcoms for this analysis. Let us compare All in the Family, the iconic and controversial television series of the 1970s, with Arrested Development, a tongue-in-cheek perspective toward contemporary family life.
     First, let us observe the similarities between these two television programs. Both series present a situation in which there is a great amount of disagreements within a family. All in the Family is incredibly famous for doing this; the character of Archie Bunker, although lovable, is notoriously intolerant of his son-in-law and his ideological views, resulting in very significant and very humorous exchanges between the two characters. Arrested Development creates a similar environment of family quarrels on an even greater scale; Michael Bluth, the protagonist of the series, seems to be the only logical and focused member of his family, so that much of the show's conflict revolves around his troubled relationship with his relatives. His mother, brother, sister, and brother-in-law are all focused on their own selfish goals, usually leaving Michael to clean up their mistakes and lecture them about what they have done wrong. Like All in the Family, the tension between family members is used for humorous effect. Another similarity that these television programs have is their caricatures of certain types of people. Archie Bunker is, once again, the most famous example in All in the Family, although he may not be the only character who is being criticized; assumedly, not all of his beliefs are meant to be taken at face value, but rather, in many instances are meant to be a caricature of actual established society. Arrested Development makes the same effort at creating caricatures: Michael's brother can be viewed as a caricature of a clueless businessman who rides off of someone else's work, his mother can be seen as a mockery of an obsessive compulsive matriarch, and his twin sister is likely a parody of the selfish, air-headed sex maniac. In both shows, exaggerated personalities are used for humor and potential commentary.
     However, separated by over three decades of culture, the two television shows exhibit differences as well. One important element to note is the number of generations that each program features within its main character ensemble. All in the Family focused mainly on two generations - that of Archie and his wife, and that of their daughter and her husband. Given that this sitcom was a reflection of old, established ideas versus new and unfamiliar ideas, this makes sense within the context of the show; it was mainly a conversation between Archie's older generation, and the upcoming generation of Michael Stivic. Arrested Development, on the other hand, features conversation between three separate generations: the middle-aged Michael Bluth, who is the series' centerpiece, his elders, including his mother, father, and uncle, and the generation below him, consisting of his niece, his son, and his son's girlfriend. Clearly, Arrested Development is not as much a distinct conversation between two ideologies as it is a complex quarrel between various unique characters, and this marks an important difference between the two television shows. Another difference between the two series is the importance of occupations within the show. In All in the Family, Archie Bunker is presented as a retired World War II veteran; most of the significant ideas he presents are not related to his work, but rather, within the environment of his colorful family life. In Arrested Development, Michael Bluth's business is a key source of his motivation. Unlike Archie Bunker, who presents commentary within the confines of his home, many of Michael's efforts are an attempt to untangle himself from business-related conflicts. Since Michael's struggling business spurs many of his decisions, this is a clear difference between the television shows.
     Each of these programs observes an issue that the other observes less. Something that All in the Family observes that is rarely depicted in Arrested Development is the clash between generations. Archie Bunker and Michael Stivic are the perfect illustration of a generational clash; the older character represents tradition, self-reliance, and morality, while the younger character represents change, social responsibility, and acceptance. Through Archie and Michael's arguments, we see the large-scale dissonance between generational cultures. Arrested Development is not as heavily focused on how the generations are different; it is more focused on how the various generations must collectively unite to succeed. This, in fact, leads to an important concept of Arrested Development that is observed less often in All in the Family - the concept of desiring to carry out the success and reputation of past generations in the family. The reason that Michael Bluth is so desperate to succeed with his business is because the business belonged to his father; knowing the quarrelsome state that his family is in, Michael wishes to unite his relatives under a common mode of responsibility and respect, as if to honor the reputation of the family. Obviously, this is different than All in the Family; Michael's conflicts with his relatives are not a statement about upcoming generational differences. Rather, they are a way of showing that Michael wants his family to think less about themselves, and more about their collective success; the differences are not generational, but personal.
     Given both their similarities and their differences, both television programs are entertaining and stimulating. The familiar archetype of the family-based sitcom allows us to identify with family conflict, and yet, even as time passes, novel elements are continuously brought to the table. This gives contemporary programs a fresh atmosphere, and a unique way of viewing society all over again.