9
One of the most observable characteristics of American film is the continuing strength of genres or story forms. Genre is more than formula. More often, it is a type of story that has a visceral appeal to its audience. The scriptwriter who ignores the strength of that appeal does so at considerable cost. The Western, the gangster film, and the musical are forms synonymous with Hollywood. Film noir and the horror film, although originating in Europe, have proved to be enduring in North America. The popularity of genres means that most scriptwriters, during the course of their careers, will have to work with genre. Consequently, the screenwriter should understand genres and how to work with them. They are, in effect, a shorthand to structured types of stories. By knowing this shortcut, the scriptwriter is free to explore aspects of the genre that have more personal relevance.
Genre and the Audience
Film sociologists have long probed the relationship between movies and the audience, but the most insightful views of genres and their relationship to the audience have come from a less scientific perspective. Writers such as Susan Sontag, Paul Schrader, and Robert Warshow have examined particular genres and found complex relationships between the fears and aspirations of audiences and the genres that speak to these feelings. Warshow,1 for example, examines the hero in the gangster and Western genres and suggests that the gangster is the same as most other citizens. He is a new arrival, an immigrant who wants to succeed in this society. He differs from most of us in the means by which he chooses to succeed—criminality. Warshow suggests that all of us want to succeed, but in the modern milieu of the city, many fail. The gangster’s failure leads to the ultimate failure, his death, and therein lies the tragedy.
The more optimistic view of the hero is present in the Western genre. The hero in the Western genre functions on a plane of morality unavailable to the gangster in modern life. In the idealized world of the Western, simpler resolutions to conflict and to ethical aspirations afford an audience the kind of wish fulfillment that is associated with a simpler, pastoral time. Warshow is careful to underline that neither genre is about history. Facts are not as important as are dreams in genres, thus serving as dreamscapes for their audiences.
Dreams and nightmares are the emotional baselines for storytelling in the genre approach. The world of the nightmare is central to the horror film and to film noir. A world where dreams come true is central to the Western, the adventure film, and the musical; and, of course, more recognizable people, situations, and behavior are the bases of the more realistic genres—the documentary, the melodrama, and the situation comedy.
The writer, however, should be aware that just as audiences change over time, so, too, do genres, in order to tell classic stories in a new guise. One could not make a classic Western without taking in the events that have affected audiences’ views about Western heroes, villains, Indians, the land, and civilizing forces. With the nuclear age, space has become our new frontier, thus making the Western set the old frontier. In the past 25 years, we have seen at least four Westerns set in space— Outland, Star Wars, Aliens, and Planet of the Apes (remake). All these films have many characteristics of the classic Western, thus showing how genres change and adapt to circumstances of the time.
Genres
It is not our intention to tell the history of genres in this chapter, but some sense of both the classic genre and its contemporary equivalent is valuable to the development of genre shorthand. We deal with the following genres in detail:
In terms of understanding genres and using dramatic components in writing genres, it’s best to consider particular common features of genres. These features are:
Each genre has its own distinct characteristics, and those characteristics will differ from one genre to another. For example, the protagonist or main character in the horror film tends to be a victim, whereas the main character in the Western is a hero. By highlighting some of the differences among genres, our goal is to show how the writer can best use these features in writing genre stories and then in working against the genre expectation to make a story seem fresh.
The Nature of the Protagonist
The main character and the character’s goal are the primary focus of the story in any genre. Although the main character in the Western is heroic and tends to be romanticized and the main character in the horror film is a victim, the main characters in war films tend to be far more realistic. In the musical, main characters tend to be presented energetically, whereas in film noir, they are typically constricted and desperate. The qualities of the main character within a particular genre tend to be consistent, which makes the shorthand dimensions of that character readily available to the writer.
The Nature of the Antagonist
The importance of the antagonist is constant across genres, but the nature of the antagonist depends on the level of realism associated with particular genres. Where the presentation of the main character exclusive of realism is heroic—the adventure film or the Western—the antagonist becomes more evil, more powerful, and sometimes more than human. Where the genre is nightmarish, as in the horror film and film noir, the antagonist is equally extreme.
Only in the realistic genres, such as the war film, the melodrama, and the gangster film, does the antagonist take on more human rather than superhuman qualities. In these genres, the goal of the main character is more understandable and more realistic; consequently, the antagonist, although still important, takes on a more human dimension.
The Shape of the Dramatic Action
Gangster stories tend to be shaped around the rise and fall of a gangster. Police stories are shaped around the perpetration of a crime, its investigation, and its successful resolution, which is the apprehension of the perpetrator. All genre films have a very particular dramatic shape. And all begin with the expected opening: A soldier is inducted into the army to fight in a foreign war; a cowboy dreams of acquiring land and a cattle herd; a poor boy from the Midwest wants to improve his life in the industrial Northeast.
In the course of the dramatic action, we will find out whether the soldier survives, what personal sacrifice is necessary for the cowboy to improve himself, and what transgressions are necessary for the young Midwesterner to get ahead. In each case, the fate of the character will differ in accordance with genre expectations. And in each case, the characters’ attempts to fulfill their goals will dictate the shape of the dramatic action.
Catalytic Event
Stolen cattle, a friend’s death, the end of the Civil War, an Indian raid—all are the catalytic events in different Westerns. Each propels the main character to find and resolve the consequences of the flow of action resulting from the catalytic event. Every genre has its own kind of catalytic event. A crime is the catalytic event of the police story. In a horror film, a young family moves into a reputedly haunted New England home. The critical catalytic event should occur quickly or the dramatic vitality of the genre is dissipated. The audience expects a quick start.
The Resolution
Dramatic action leads us, of course, to the resolution. But not every genre leads us to the same kind of resolution. Although the fate of our Midwesterner in the melodrama tends toward the tragic, this is not the case in the classic Western or in the war film. In the Western, although the main character pays a price for his ambition, he does tend to succeed and become a hero in the effort. That effort requires a ritualized demonstration of heroism—the climactic gunfight. In the war film, although there is a climactic battle, the character’s fate is determined not by his individual actions but by the superior forces of the protagonist’s side; the resolution may come though superior air power or through a simple, arbitrary act that allows the character to survive the battle. Whatever the reason, resolution does not come from the individual action of the main character; consequently, the sense of the main character as a hero is less apparent than in the Western, where individual action is central to the resolution.
Narrative Style
Every genre has a particular narrative style that the audience expects and enjoys. Westerns, for example, tend to be punctuated by gun fights, deployment of weaponry, expertise in horsemanship, and survival skills in what is essentially a rural, primitive wilderness. Violence and violent resolution to conflict characterize the genre. This is not the case in melodrama, where relationships, their evolution, and their outcome are central; although there may be a tragic outcome in melodrama, the violence is emotional rather than physical.
Narrative Shape
Different genres exhibit different shapes. Although Westerns such as High Noon take place in a single day, this is not at all typical of the Western. In fact, many Westerns have an expansive time frame—years in the case of Red River and The Searchers. This is unusual, however, in film noir, where the character is running out of time; this is his last chance. Consequently, film noir stories tend to have a far more intense narrative shape. The time frame collapses, as does the accelerated presentation of a desperate relationship for the main character. Time is critical in the adventure film and in the thriller; it is far less important in the situation comedy and the war film. Consequently, the narrative shape in each of these genres differs considerably.
The primary consideration here is the level of intensity the genre requires to be in tune with the goals of the main character. In film noir, the main character is desperate, trying to survive his tragic fate. In the adventure film, the level of threat to the main character has to be constant, so that the audience stays interested in the plot. In the Western and the situation comedy, the relationship with the main character is relatively more relaxed; thus, the narrative shape is also more relaxed.
Tone
Although tone will be discussed in detail in a later chapter, it is important to consider it here as an element of genre. Tone can range from the fantastic in the adventure film and the musical to the realistic in the war film and the melodrama. Tone also ranges from the ironic in the screwball comedy and the satire to the engrossing in the thriller and the horror film.
As with all the elements mentioned in this section, the clarity of these elements offers the writer clear opportunities to alter or challenge these conventions in order to make the story seem different or fresh. However, for the purposes of this chapter, we assume constancy within genres. We turn now to the genres themselves.
The Western
The Western genre has an elaborate, rich history. The central themes of the Western play themselves out in the classic Western, which was the predominant form until 1950. The central motifs of the classic Western are as follows:
Having characterized the classic Western, we should also recognize how the Western has changed since 1950. Revisions to the classic Western have been attempted, as their primary goal, to make the Western less innocent. The hero is systematically demystified: in The Gunfighter, Gregory Peck, the hero, is a victim of his reputation; in Winchester ’73, James Stewart portrays a neurotic hero; and in The Wild Bunch, William Holden’s hero is a killer without a hint of the tenderness of the classic hero. Other Westerns have focused on the issue of civilizing forces. Armies have been presented as more primitive than the primitives (i.e., the Indians)—as in Apache, The Outlaw Josey Wales —and towns have been hell rather than heaven—as in High Plains Drifter. The nature of the central character’s struggle has become much more jaded and much less idealistic. Indeed, both The Culpepper Cattle Company and Heaven’s Gate are about the loss of idealism.
More recently, there has been a resurgence in the Western, and here, too, we see subtle and not-so-subtle shifts in the genre. The idealism of the classic Western is again challenged in Wyatt Earp. The myth of Wyatt Earp is as much a target of the writers as are the historical events or the dramatic opportunities provided by the gunfight at the OK Corral. Tombstone, released the same year (1994), conforms more closely to the typical Western, but again the struggle is less primitivism against civilization than it is about opposing material goals. This theme of the materialism of the main character is particularly notable in Unforgiven. In this film, the hero is less a hero and more a man of the 1980s than of the 1880s.
So, the Western has changed, but the dreamscape—a frontier where the struggle between primitivism and civilization unfolds—has not. Western film stories have just moved to another frontier.
The Gangster Film
The classic gangster film, like the Western, concerns itself with a very particular story—the rise and fall of a man who has no patience to progress through the ranks. The gangster is a man in a hurry; his time is running out. The motifs of the classic gangster film are as follows:
The classic gangster film is an ongoing dimension of American film; The Godfather and The Untouchables are popular examples. However, the genre has been too important a representation of modern life to contain itself solely to the character of the gangster. The gangster has been joined by other central characters—the cop (Dirty Harry), the detective (The Big Sleep), and, on the international level, the spy (The Spy Who Came In From the Cold). All these characters seek to find a way of succeeding in their particular jungles. As with the gangster, the struggle for position in the existing social order involves pushing out the other spy or killer who challenges the existing order. In all cases, the struggle is to the death. Their worlds will be subverted under any other outcome.
Recently, gangster films have added an existential dimension to the struggle. It is as if hope has dimmed and a kind of nihilistic death wish pervades the gangster and his fate. Whether focused on the individual (The King of New York) or a gang (Reservoir Dogs), betrayal has become the focus for the fate of the gangster. This dramatic shift crosses ethnic barriers, and we see the gangster’s fate more tragically magnified in the Puerto Rican ghetto (Carlito’s Way), in the Black ghetto (Clockers), and in the Irish ghetto (State of Grace). Whether it is the encroaching effectiveness of the law or the feeling that there is overpopulation in the urban jungle and Malthus’s law of population control has come into effect, these stories portray a less hopeful, more desperate gangster hero—a hero who is less heroic and more violent. His struggle is the last act of a condemned man.
As to the settings, Harry Callahan lives in San Francisco, Phillip Marlowe works in Los Angeles, Elliot Ness lives in Chicago, and Don Corleone lives and works in New York City. These are the distinct battlegrounds of the gangster drama. The identifiable locale gives a particular credibility to the gangster film, but make no mistake, the subject matter of the gangster film is not a documentary on urban life; rather, like the Western, it is a dreamscape and nightmare of urban life. Gangster films are psychodramas, the equivalent of modernized tales of gladiators and Christians. For all these characters in this genre, there is nothing less at stake than their lives.
Because these stories are primal and male, there is little scope in this genre for male–female relationships. The genre does have memorable women— Bonnie in Bonnie and Clyde, Cagney’s mother in White Heat, and Gloria Grahame in The Big Heat —but in each case, the role of the woman is catalytic to the action of the gangster. In no case is the woman a stand-alone character functioning in an interesting way in her own world. Whether they be sibling, mother, virgin, or whore, women play supporting roles in gangster films.
A final word: If fictional prose foreshadows genre activity in film, in the near future we will soon see detectives who are Indians working on reservations (Tony Hillerman) and Eskimos working in the Arctic (Scott Young). We will see rural cops (Ted Wood) and more international manifestations of the gangster genre (David Thompson). All these authors have portrayed detectives in different or unusual settings that have struck a chord with the public. Hollywood producers have taken note, particularly in telling stories of international gangsters (e.g., Red Heat, The Russia House).
The classic gangster film’s search for success is taking on an international dimension, and the world is beginning to look like an oversized jungle in which the stakes of human drama grow increasingly dangerous. The gangster genre has never had more material with which to work.
The Film Noir
Beginning in the pessimistic 1920s in Germany, film noir as a genre appealed to the darker fears of an increasingly urbanized population. Film noir could be subtitled “the genre of betrayal”—personal betrayal, national betrayal, and international betrayal. The characteristics of film noir are as follows:
Film noir is a genre that symbolizes our nightmares. The classic of the genre is represented by Billy Wilder’s Double Indemnity, a film of murder for the promise of love and the discovery that there is no love, only more murder. More recent representations of film noir are Body Heat, Chinatown, Raging Bull, Basic Instinct, and Romeo is Bleeding. For such a pessimistic genre of film, film noir seems to elicit many creative premises. As a genre that depicts the worst in human beings, it brings out the best in writers and directors—an interesting irony.
The Screwball Comedy
The screwball comedy is funny film noir that has a happy ending. The characteristics of this genre are quite similar to those of film noir:
The screwball comedy is a genre that requires more risk and more aggression than is seen in the situation comedy. Consequently, few screwball comedies are made. Shampoo and Something Wild are modern examples of this genre, but few writers are developing scripts akin to the 1930s-era Bringing Up Baby and Monkey Business. Screwball comedies make most male writers very nervous, because the genre threatens masculinity and dominance or desired dominance in relationships. The genre is, however, very lively and energetic.
Both Tootsie and Mrs. Doubtfire borrow the dynamic from screwball comedies, but neither follows through in the classic screwball comedy sense. Both work with the masculine–feminine side of their main characters, and Tootsie particularly characterizes the male side as the antagonist of the story. This New Age approach moves both films into the safer realm of the situation comedy and away from the dangerous shoals of the screwball comedy.
The Melodrama
The melodrama is frequently associated with soap operas. This generalization is unfair, because, as a genre, melodrama is closest to the people, issues, and events of our times. This is not to say that the melodrama is a dramatized documentary of our own lives. Perhaps it is safer to suggest that the melodrama is the dramatized lives of our neighbors. The characteristics of the genre are as follows:
Perhaps the most important power struggle of the 1980s was the battle of the sexes. The sexual revolution and the rise of feminism, together with rapid economic change, fueled a redefinition of the male–female relationship. Attitudes toward career, childrearing, and marriage were all in flux. Yet, the male–female relationship, as it has been for centuries, is a central dimension of our existence. It is no surprise that thirtysomething was one of the most successful television shows of the decade. Some of the most memorable films of the period— Kramer vs. Kramer, Independence Day, My Beautiful Laundrette, Breaking Away —are melodramas. Societal change has unleashed a torrent of films about power relationships at all ages and stages. Fast Times at Ridgemont High, Crossing Delancey, and Beaches have much in common. They are all melodramas, and each film has a woman as its central character; the only difference is the women’s age.
Melodrama can also be examined as a reflection of the political power structure in a society. Within this framework, the male–female dynamic is just one axis of a larger political construct. Another axis is the politics of the family. Here the struggles of fathers and sons are reflected in films such as East of Eden and A River Runs Through It. The rebellious son was made an archetype of the era in Rebel Without a Cause. The daughter who dared to be different was the focus of Peyton Place.
The framework of politics itself is the theme of Rossen’s famous All the King’s Men and the not-so-famous but equally interesting John Sayles’s take on urban politics, City of Hope. Add race and we have Euzhan Palcy and Colin Welland’s A Dry White Season. In this complex melodrama, it is the liberal white man, portrayed by Donald Sutherland, who challenges the laws of his native South Africa to defend the dignity of his black gardener. His challenge and his punishment, death is the classic consequence for the main character in melodrama.
This fate, death, in Lorenzo’s Oil, is challenged by Susan Sarandon and Nick Nolte, parents who are told their son has an incurable disease and will die. These parents do not accept the conventional wisdom of the medical power structure. They spend time, money, and energy to find a cure for their son’s illness. And they do. This melodrama about the politics of health and medicine is a victory for the parents, but the experience of the screen story highlights the power of the melodrama to realistically take us to the darkness and tragedy that is part of life.
The Situation Comedy
The situation comedy is very similar to the melodrama, although the outcome differs. Often, the outcome in a melodrama is tragic or at least has a dimension of tragedy. The mother leaving the family at the end of Ordinary People is a good example of a tragic melodrama. In situation comedy, the tragic potential dissipates, and a more satisfying outcome results. A good example of the situation comedy is depicted at the end of the film in Ruthless People when Bette Midler’s character kicks her husband, played by Danny DeVito, into the ocean. Of course, humor is the result of all the character conflict in the situation comedy. The characteristics of this genre are as follows:
Just as The Apartment was the situation comedy that heralded the end of the 1950s, so, too, do the filmic meditations of Woody Allen on urban life in Crimes and Misdemeanors, which reflects the end of the affluent 1980s. Forrest Gump was the quintessential situation comedy of the 1990s. Acknowledging the limits and the cruelty of the surrounding society, this mentally limited character has the emotional capacity to transcend that society. As he did in Big, Tom Hanks captures a sensibility at odds with everyone around him, and by doing so teaches them a valuable life lesson. But just as the comedies reflect their time, they also reflect enduring qualities. The characters that surround the main character in The Apartment are as self-absorbed and self-serving as are the characters that populate situation comedies such as Groundhog Day, Dave, and Bullets Over Broadway, made 30 years later.
To be more specific, the dissonance between character and society is also the theme of two recent important situation comedies, Dave and Groundhog Day. Dave focuses on the presidency, whereas Groundhog Day focuses on the media. In each, the transcendence of the individual characters over their deficiencies affirms a hopefulness in a bleak time. These films differ from the populist comedies of Frank Capra, which fused the transcendence of the individual to the potential for good in American society. These 1990s comedies are less optimistic about society as a whole; their focus is on the individual as his own salvation. The society itself is portrayed as the source of the problem, whereas for Capra it was the true source of strength for the individual.
Another important theme in the situation comedies of the 1990s is the dysfunctional family. Mrs. Doubtfire focuses on a dysfunctional husband. Home Alone focuses on one of the children accidentally left at home by the hurried parents. It Could Happen to You depicts an unhappily married couple who wins the lottery. The dysfunctional family and dissonant characters are important sources for the situation comedies of the 1990s.
The Horror Film
The horror film, originating from the nineteenth-century literature of Stevenson, Poe, and Shelley, is principally a reaction (as was the literature) to the veneer of civilization that comes with the material successes of modern life. Monsters, unbridled aggression, and sexuality—the inhabitants of our nightmare world—have a continuing popularity, particularly with young people. The world of our unconscious is the central source of material for the horror film. The characteristics of the genre are as follows:
The Science Fiction Film
The science fiction film is to society what the horror film is to the person—a tale of catastrophe, a story of our worst nightmares. In the science fiction story, an ecological catastrophe (The Naked Jungle), a technological accident (2001: A Space Odyssey), or the unwelcome meeting of two worlds (The Day the Earth Stood Still) all serve to remind the audience that the inhabitants of Earth don’t have enough respect for the environment, for science, or for each other; if this tendency persists, Earth will be destroyed or will destroy itself. In this context, the science fiction film is analogous to the biblical epic—both are morality plays celebrating past moral victories, while warning us to renew our moral fervor or there will be no future. The characteristics of the science fiction genre are as follows:
The war film genre is a national melodrama; these films are about transgression and power. How does the individual survive intact, physically and mentally? How are we, the audience, to feel about a particular war or about war in general? Many of the greatest films in the brief history of film have concerned themselves with war— All Quiet on the Western Front, The Big Parade, La Grande Illusion, Kanal, They Were Expendable, Paths of Glory, Dr. Strangelove Or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb —and those behind the lines who tried to cope with the war and its aftermath— Open City, The Best Years of Our Lives, Forbidden Games, Who’ll Stop the Rain? Films such as Europa Europa and Schindler’s List focus on the noncombatants as victims of war.
War, because it threatens all of us, is an important genre. The characteristics of the genre are as follows:
The point of view of the war genre ranges from romantic (Sergeant York) to cynical (Too Late the Hero). Whatever the perspective, the individual character is the focal point of the war genre. War isn’t simply a test of character in these films; more often, it is a plea to reflect upon the issues of war. As Jean Renoir said about his great 1937 antiwar film La Grande Illusion, “two years later they fought again, but this time a bigger, more violent war.”2 It appears the genre will continue to appeal to audiences.
The Adventure Film
What the situation comedy is to melodrama, the adventure film is to the war film. James Bond and Indiana Jones are positive cartoon heroes who not only survive war but also seem to thrive on it. In their fantastic, aggressive adventures, there is a reassurance that men may start wars, but boys such as these can stave off the consequences. The characteristics of this genre are as follows:
The adventure film has been a staple for the past decade or so. Indeed, many of the most successful films ever made were adventure films produced in the 1980s. The Indiana Jones series, the Superman series, the Rambo series, and the Batman series are the best examples. So successful has been the genre that characters from other genres (Dirty Harry and Lethal Weapon) have veered, at least in the sequels, toward adventure film and away from the genre of the original.
Adventure films have also been borrowing the dysfunctional family motif from the situation comedy, evidenced in The Last Action Hero, which borrows the alienated teenager from the melodrama. Although the mix does not work well in The Last Action Hero, the situation-comedy element in True Lies does offset the soft plot of this particular adventure.
The Epic Film
The epic film is very often presented as a serious adventure film. The struggle of the main character is heroic but realistic. The main character may be a historical figure whose exploits have been memorialized in print (T.E. Lawrence’s The Seven Pillars of Wisdom) or in literature (Joseph Conrad’s Lord Jim). The epic film may be biographical or historical, but its main appeal is the moral or ethical dilemma (the personal issue) tested against a larger panorama—war (Patton) or colonialism (Gandhi). Inevitably, the interweaving of personal and historical stories makes the epic film one to experience.
Writers who excel in this form are Robert Bolt (Lawrence of Arabia, A Man for All Seasons, and The Bounty) and Carl Foreman (Bridge on the River Kwai and The Guns of Navarone). Numerous contemporary writers are interested in this form. Robert Towne wrote Greystoke: The Legend of Tarzan and Lord of the Apes; Paul Schrader wrote The Last Temptation of Christ; and Bob Rafaelson wrote Mountains of the Moon. The characteristics of the genre are as follows:
The sports film is a particular sort of adventure film. It can be real (Champion), cynical (Raging Bull), or fantastic (Field of Dreams). Unlike the adventure film, the focal point can be personal (Bang the Drum Slowly) rather than apocalyptic. This doesn’t mean that the sports genre is less exciting. Rocky is as exciting an experience as the best of the adventure films and is more emotionally satisfying than some. The characteristics of the sports film are as follows:
The Biographical Film
Biography, as in prose, is an important genre. What are our leaders, authority figures, great artists really like? We are fascinated with their greatness and talent. We want to know all about them. Underlying our fascination is our wish for immortality. In their own way, the subjects of biographical films (by their actions, achievements, or character) have achieved immortality. The characteristics of the biographical film are as follows:
The Satire
Satire is a special form of genre. It is not often found, but its strength is such that you should know about the genre. The characteristics of the genre are as follows:
Satire experienced a resurgence in the 1990s. Two themes stand out: the film industry and urban life in the city of dreams, Los Angeles. Both The Player and Mistress focus on the loss of humanity in the film industry. The main character in The Player, a studio executive, brutally kills a writer and not only gets away with murder but then advances in the corporate hierarchy of Hollywood. The characters in Grand Canyon and Short Cuts are ordinary people living in Los Angeles who also seem to have lost their way and, in Short Cuts, also their humanity. The result is the need to escape— to the Grand Canyon in Grand Canyon—or to have no means of escape, in Short Cuts. The nastiness of each of the characters in Short Cuts suggests that malice and murder are not the province of the studio executive or of the ghetto—they’re everywhere. Whether Robert Altman is criticizing all modern urban life or strictly Los Angeles is unclear, but what seems certain is that his interpretation of Raymond Carver assures that Los Angeles, for so long the city of angels and dreams, is now the city of the nightmare, the modern equivalent of a Hieronymous Bosch painting.
Conclusion
Working with genre is probably the most topical and typical activity of today’s screenwriters. Whatever story you choose to write, you’re probably working with genre. Consequently, it is critical that you be familiar with the motifs of each genre. To involve the audience more rapidly in your story, use the expected signposts of the genre, which are a shorthand that audiences absorb from their earliest viewing.
References
1. R. Warshow, “The Gangster as Tragic Hero” and “Movie Chronicle: The Westerner,” in The Immediate Experience (New York, NY: Doubleday, 1962), 83–106.
2. S. Kauffman, “The Elusive Corporal and Grand Illusion,” in A World on Film (New York, NY: Delta, 1996).
3.147.61.142