Shang-Chi and the Legend of the 8/10 Rings

If you’re anything like me, you enjoy a good time at the movies. Marvel movies scratch that itch for me, and millions of others. The sheer enormity of the MCU is mind-blowing, and generally even the subpar outings for Marvel (Ironman 3, Eternals) are better than anything their peers are throwing at the screen.

But when Marvel gets it right (Avengers 1, Captain America: Winter Soldier, Thor: Ragnarok), they completely knock it out of the park. Rare is the cinema experience when you leave a theater and can’t imagine any way to improve it without picking tiny nits, and Marvel has given us a handful of these.

So today I’m going to discuss Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings because 1) my daughter watched it this morning on the tail end of a weekend sleepover with her friend, 2) Marvel got oh so close to that hallowed upper echelon with this one, and 3) we can talk about why they didn’t and how they should have done things differently. Because with one major failure, they get an 8/10 stars/mystical kung fu rings/freshly baked banana bread muffins from me. Yes, I made muffins this morning while the kids were watching. So good. I ate like four. Diet starts again tomorrow.

Anyhoo, SPOILERS AHEAD.

I will skip a full recap of the plot and assume you’ve seen the flick. If you haven’t, bravo for continuing to read, but seriously go watch it. It’s a good movie, very entertaining. Just not perfect.

I REPEAT, SPOILERS AHEAD.

First, let’s chat briefly about what Marvel got right, because they, like they usually do, nail most of it.

  • Casting – Simu Liu as our hero Shang-Chi is a compelling lead, and while the depth of his acting may not reach Ben Kingsley’s Shakespearean level, Marvel films don’t really call for that. Awkwafina is great as the goofy comedic sidekick Katy. Meng’er Xiang is fierce and imposing as Shang-Chi’s sister Xialing, and every bit the fighter he is. Tony Leung is dispassionate father Xu Wenwu that boils with rage under the surface. Lots of great side characters too.
  • Action – lots of it.
  • Music – solid.
  • Comedy – plenty, from a number of places.
  • MCU tie-ins – Nobody does tie-ins to other films better than Marvel, and they drop a few doozies in there with the inclusion of Benedict Wong’s Wong (first seen in Dr. Strange), the Abomination from way back in the Incredible Hulk movie (with Edward Norton), the return of Ben Kingsley and the “fix” they did to his character Trevor Slattery from Iron-Man 3, and then the requisite post-credit scene featuring Wong, Bruce Banner, and Captain Marvel.

Now let’s talk character, because I think this had the opportunity to be one of the better character growth arcs we’ve seen in a Marvel movie.

Shang-Chi (as Shaun) is hanging out in San Francisco with Katy, enjoying life as a parking valet, but not really doing much with himself or caring to. We learn he’s been in hiding, avoiding his father Xu Wenwu, warlord of the Ten Rings criminal organization (first used with poorly-received audience misdirection in Iron-Man 3). Wenwu wants his son to return to the Ten Rings (and wants Shaun’s half of a jade pendant). Shaun doesn’t want that. So right there is our opening want/need, full of family history and drama. Great.

Our hero, now Shang-Chi, meets up with his sister Xialing after losing his necklace in the introductory fight with Wenwu’s goons. She’s pissed at him for running off and abandoning her after their mom died when they were younger, and they fight. Deeper family wounds, remorse for Shang-Chi. He has to come to terms with her, because she has the other half of the jade pendant, which when paired with his will provide their father with access to their deceased mother’s mythical home of Ta Lo. So they have to work together. All of this is great!

Naturally, they’re captured by Wenwu and brought back to the Ten Rings compound. And now our hero meets our villain. Again. For the first time (on screen).

The classic comic book villain The Mandarin! Wasn’t he in Iron-Man 3? No. No, he wasn’t.

Blessed with a thousand years of life by the ten rings, Xi Wenwu has led a vicious life as leader of the Ten Rings crime organization, up until the point when he (when trying to get into Ta Lo the first time) meets Shang-Chi’s eventual mother, guardian Ying Li. They fight, she kicks his butt, they fall in love. A bad guy is reformed into family man. The rings are set aside.

All is well until Wenwu’s former life catches up with him and Ying Li is murdered. Wenwu reverts. Shang-Chi (as a youngun) is caught up in the violence and eventually flees the Ten Rings syndicate rather than joining his father’s ways. Tragic villain, wounded past established. Marvel is checking all the boxes so far.

Let’s skip to the end. Marvel is setting us up for a son vs. father showdown, right? This is what our minds have been led to believe will be the final, ultimate confrontation.

And we get it. Shang-Chi heeds his mother’s lessons and becomes his own man, rather than the killer in his father’s footsteps. Father and son fight. Shang-Chi wins control of the rings as they battle and cows his father into submission. Power stripped, the villain is due to see the err of his ways, or meet a tragic comeuppance after reconciling as the Elixir payoff of Shang-Chi’s journey. And we get both of those.

But then, we get this…

Wha wha what? The Dweller-in-Darkness, a soul-sucking corrupted dragon thing. Ta Lo has been holding it behind a mystical dragonscale door to save the world from doom. It had been whispering (somehow) to Wenwu via Ying Li’s voice and convinced him she was still alive. So he came to let it out, mistakenly believing it was his wife. And just as Shang-Chi defeats Wenwu, the Dweller breaks free. It sucks out Wenwu’s soul, and now Shang-Chi has to clean up the mess.

Enter climax #2, and while it’s a rousing fight, it has absolutely nothing to do with Shang-Chi’s journey from wayward youth on the run from his criminal father into becoming his own man. The emotional connection for the audience falls flat, because subconsciously we know that everything our hero has been working for and toward for the past two hours doesn’t matter in the slightest because now he has to defeat some dimly-lit monstrosity he didn’t even know existed a day ago. Sure, he had to complete his character arc to win the ten rings in order to gain the power to defeat this new villain. But the Dweller wasn’t Shang-Chi’s antagonist in this movie, his father was.

All the way up to this, we are not educated as to why Wenwu must be kept out of Ta Lo, only that his pursuit of the mythical realm was folly and he would lead it to destruction. We are not told why during the build-up of the story, and only learn of the ultimate threat after Shang-Chi and crew make it to Ta Lo. Way too late to be introducing the audience to the ultimate villain of the story. It has no ties to Shang-Chi. It has no connection to Wenwu, other than using him to escape. It has nothing to do with the whole story until it gets out. Then we have to defeat it or the world is doomed. Just meh.

I don’t possess an ounce of comic book knowledge, so it’s entirely possible this storyline was pulled straight from the pages. Kinda feels like a few mashed together though, and here they threw one too many in right at the end.

When I watched this film in the theater for the first time last year, as Shang-Chi battled the Dweller, I thought to myself “this is totally unnecessary”. I was ready to anoint this movie as another masterful standard-bearer for Marvel, and instead the whole thing fell flat on its face on the dismount. Don’t get me wrong, it’s still one of the better Marvel films for all the great work they did leading up to the second half of the climax. But it’s not on the podium.

So how could Marvel have fixed this? I have three ideas:

  1. Connect Wenwu’s want (return of his wife) with the intentional release of the Dweller. In his ancient texts, Wenwu translates something that makes him believe the Dweller is in possession of Ying Li’s soul and freeing it will also free her. Shang-Chi learns of this midway through, remembers lessons from his mother regarding the Dweller (needs to be added), and suddenly stopping his father has overt save-the-world implications. When he can’t stop his father in time, his failure directly leads to the Dweller’s release, and now the need to defeat the Dweller to save the world is fully Shang-Chi’s to own to complete his growth into hero.
  2. Turn Wenwu into the Dweller. Shang-Chi wins the rings, but won’t kill his father because he still loves him, even if it is the right thing to do (will have to add the inevitable killing of his father mandatory in the growth phase of the arc, which they avoid here to keep Shang-Chi from becoming like his father). Still desperate, Wenwu makes a final deal with the devil and with some mystical MacGuffin (the audience needs to be made aware of this thing earlier on, even if Shang-Chi isn’t), joins forces with the Dweller, giving it corporal (and horrible) form. Shang-Chi is given the final kick in the tail he needs to defeat his father once and for all. Fight ensures. Rings are used with deadly intent against his monster-father and the arc is completed and world saved.
  3. Beef up the fight with Wenwu at the end, but leave it with the father’s defeat. All of the emotional angst and turmoil we’ve invested ourselves in will be satisfied, and the journey will be whole. Save the escape of the Dweller for the end credits scenes, and you’ve got an easy direct setup for Shang-Chi 2.

I think #1 is best, but would have made an already long movie even longer.

There you have it. Did you see Shang-Chi? What did you think? Do you agree with my assessment of the film’s unnecessary second climactic battle? Leave a comment!

The ultimate lesson here? Begin your heroes’ journeys with the end in mind! M

Let’s Herd Some Aristocats

My daughter is in a stage production of Disney’s “The Aristocats: Kids” this fall, and as you might suspect, we’ve seen the movie a couple of times at our house since she joined the cast. Plus, I’m running the sound for the show, so I’m at every rehearsal, nodding my head to “Ev’rybody Wants to Be a Cat” and “Thomas O’Malley”. It’s a cute musical.

Oddly enough, the stage production is a better story than the movie. Now we can certainly forgive a 30-minute children’s stage show filled with musical numbers when it skimps on the character development and arcs, since (from the parent’s perspective) it’s merely an exercise to get our 5-12 year olds off their tablets and out of the house for a while. But the movie? I have some words.

For purposes of this post, I assume you have seen the film. If you haven’t, there’s still plenty to learn from the discussion below, so feel free to keep on reading. I’ll do my best to fill you in on the necessary details. Or go watch it first and develop your own impressions.

To be blunt, The Aristocats (1970) is not a good story, structurally. It is an entertaining movie, but flawed. Oh, so flawed. Off the top, there is the unfortunate racist depiction of the Siamese alley cat. It was common to the era, but it isn’t a good look in a children’s film. It’s about as bad as the crows in Dumbo, but he’s not in the film as much. The very beginning of the movie (available on Disney+) has Disney’s standard disclaimer regarding racist content seen ahead of a number of their older films. They acknowledge the mistake. We move on and vow never to be that awful in our own stories. Beyond that, there is the nonsensical combination of Parisian alley cats and jazz, which while fun, make about as much sense together as peanut butter and traffic cameras. And the interesting inclusion of two hounds that talk like old American war veterans. On a French farm. In the movie, they only serve as foils for the bumbling butler villain Edgar and never even come across the Aristocats. They’re only in a couple very cartoony scenes that would have fit in more in a Roadrunner vs. Wile E. Coyote Looney Tunes sketch. In the stage show, they cross paths with the cat family briefly, which makes their inclusion at least somewhat relevant to the protagonists.

But I want to talk about characters and their journey. Specifically, we’re going to go into the protagonists themselves, the Aristocats, but we’ll discuss Abraham Delacey Giuseppe Casey Thomas O’Malley the alley cat too.

The Aristocats features only an external journey for our main protagonist, mama Duchess, and her kittens Berlioz, Toulouse, and Marie. They are kidnapped by Edgar so that he eventually inherits their owner Madame’s fortune instead of the cats. Duchess and kittens have to make their way back home to Paris. That’s the journey. External-only stories are usually action/adventure/fantasy/scifi fare, and I guess you could lump The Aristocats into the adventure category, but that’s a bit of a stretch.

Here’s why. Throughout the film, things happen to the Aristocats. Actually, everything happens to the Aristocats. They don’t do anything. The world moves around them from safe at home to being catnapped by Edgar to being found in rural farmland by alley cat Thomas O’Malley to being escorted back to Paris by Tom and some geese to being captured by Edgar again only to be rescued by Tom’s alley cat friends, a mouse (Roquefort), and a horse (Frou Frou).

The Aristocats do nothing across all of this, except play the role of victims. That’s not a satisfying experience for an audience or reader. The Aristocats make no choices. Help arrives right when they need it, and they don’t have to do a thing. Perhaps there was a subversive message here that the world bends in order for the wealthy to get what they want? I kind of doubt it’s that subtle. It’s just bad writing.

In order for a story’s protagonists to complete a satisfying journey, either external or internal, they need to earn it. Make decisions. Take action. Grow. The Aristocats are cute, the songs are fun, and Edgar’s buffoonery draws laughs, but beyond that, nothing changes for the heroes from beginning to end aside from Edgar being shipped to Timbuktu, and Thomas coming to live with the Aristocats. Externally, the cats don’t save themselves through action or choices, they are instead rescued. Internally, nobody grows past their flaws or learns anything, except that butlers can’t be trusted. And everybody already knows that.

As it stands, I would rate The Aristocats 1/5 on story and 3/5 on entertainment value. Now that’s all well and good. Who doesn’t love to point out the flaws of a bad movie or book? There are plenty to choose from.

The real exercise here for us writers hoping to improve our craft, is to not only recognize a story’s problems, but identify ways and methods to make it better. So that’s what we’re going to do. We are going to redesign the Aristocats into something much, much better. And then Disney will want all my ideas to do a live action remake of it and make a bajillion dollars. They are welcome to call me. Here we go.

Let’s start with Duchess. She’s flawless. Her owner is wealthy. Looks beautiful. Acts beautiful. So well-mannered, and oh, so boring. She needs flaws and conflict in her life to be relatable and give her character room to grow. This is easy. She’s going to come across alley cats. So, she hates alley cats. They smell. They’re rude. They’re filthy. They’re a bad influence on her kids. Give us a 15-second scene where her owner Madame is out on the town walking them in a buggy and they pass an alley full of cats in the trash. Duchess scoffs and knows she is better than them. Innocent Marie asks “What are they doing in the trash, Mama?” Duchess responds with disgust. “Who knows? We don’t associate with the likes of alley cats.” And she diverts the children’s attention to something clean and shiny and more Aristocattish. That’s as much setup as we need (in a children’s animated movie) to set the stage for her encounter with Thomas O’Malley and the jazz cats later. Instant 1/2 star rating improvement for 15 seconds of screen time.

And since the Elixir at the end of the story is that Thomas comes to join the Aristocats’ family after they make it home, setting her up that way is an absolute must. If you want to make her even better, use the actions of her kids to break down Duchess’ perfect world over time, and teach her the value of finding value in everyone (in other words, the alley cats and Thomas). They do half the necessary set up already. At the start, Duchess is teaching her kids manners, painting, music, and proper etiquette at the table – er, dish of cream, but the kittens are reluctant to comply – barely. Ramp up that conflict a bit and it would be a great setup. As they go through the story, the kids, now exposed to the big bad world, and finding enjoyment in things that the hunting dogs, geese, and alley cats do, wonder why as Aristocats they too can’t enjoy those same things at home. Through her children’s eyes, Duchess starts to see that value, and as they make their way home, comes around to Thomas as a person (cat). As Thomas joining the family is the Elixir at the end, there needs to be some element of Duchess’ life that he fulfills. Maybe she can’t get the kids to practice on their own and has to sit down with them for their music session. Maybe she wants to have a career and is obligated to be at home taking care of the kids instead. Maybe they lack worldly wisdom, despite her teachings (this is best as it mirrors what Thomas and the alley cats will teach them). Extra credit if the problems with the children cause friction with Madame (maybe she takes the kittens’ bows away for bad behavior). The addition of Thomas at the end has to resolve some issue of hers at the beginning. Another 1/2 star improvement.

In the movie there’s just a hint of love story there between Thomas and Duchess. Only the faintest wisps. So we need to identify a flaw in the Aristocats’ existing world that the love story will resolve to give it some legs. Easy again, and it’s given like three seconds of service right when the Aristocats meet Thomas when one of the kittens says they’ll never have a father. So let’s set that up by identifying that wound earlier in their ordinary world with one of the kittens saying “I wish we had a father” when Duchess is tied up with a photoshoot or something with Madame, and the kids are bored with nothing to do. Duchess hears it and feels the internal pain of that lack. Now, when tom cat Thomas (be more creative with your names, yo) enters their life and gets friendly with Duchess, but shies away from her when he learns she has three kittens, the conflict is there for the audience when Thomas is being ne’er-do-well O’Malley the alley cat. He’s a free spirit. He doesn’t want responsibility. He’s not the correct puzzle piece for Duchess. Conflict! Character depth! Add another 1/2 star rating.

Now let’s fix Thomas for a moment. In the movie, he’s all say one thing, and do another. We’re told to believe he’s an irresponsible rapscallion alley cat (telling), when in fact in action, he’s responsible, protective, and heroic (showing). Which is fine for his true character. But those qualities have to have a chance to be pulled through the hardened exterior blanket of indifference and self-centeredness, earned through a hard life of alley catting.

After Edgar dumps the kitty basket into the farmland river and the Aristocats find themselves lost, in walks O’Malley. In the movie, he saves the day. That’s no good. He’s not the protagonist of this story. He’s an Ally for the Aristocats. So let’s make them find him. They get out of the river and start walking down the path. And through their choice and initiative, they come across Thomas. Here’s a good spot for Duchess to still be Duchess and react with disgust at Thomas. He’s lazing about like an alley cat would. Fish bones on the ground. Fur unclean. Still, they’re lost, so (with encouragement from the kids) Duchess asks for help. He refuses. Duchess quickly accepts the answer and turns the kittens to the path to keep going. Thomas lets them walk for a moment, but then asks where they were going. “Paris,” Duchess responds. “Paris is thattaway,” Thomas says with a grin, pointing in the opposite direction. This simple, unexpected kind gesture by an alley cat surprises Duchess, and we see the first crack in her ordinary world impression of alley cats. Growth! Add another 1/2 star.

We need to toss a second call to adventure to Thomas since he’s already refused his first (and yes, side characters with their own character arcs – and Thomas is gonna get one – can follow their own Heroic Journeys). This is a fine point for feisty kitten Toulouse to ask Thomas to teach him how to be an alley cat. This amuses Thomas and draws him in, and provides one of those conflict points for Duchess as her kids choices on the adventure start to pull conflict strings on her impression of alley cat life. We need some throwaway comment that he’ll come along, so long as he doesn’t get stuck in any dark or tight spaces. We’ll take advantage of that claustrophobia later.

Duchess needs to make a choice here to allow Thomas to engage with Toulouse, but she does so reluctantly in order to get O’Malley to come along. What Thomas talks to Toulouse and the other kittens about though is unexpected. Independence, freedom, self-reliance, standing up for yourself, and the pursuit of happiness. Good qualities. Not expected of an alley cat. That’s great. Now add some conflict. Duchess warms to Thomas a little more. Thomas, sensing the growing affection from the family and the approach of responsibility, backs off and instead of continuing, hastily takes off, advising the family to keep on the same path and they’ll make it home in no time. Changes in momentum! Another 1/2 star, and we’re just getting going.

Conveniently, this is where they cross the railway bridge. Marie falls into the river, and Thomas (still keeping a remote eye on the Aristocats) rescues her. Now we’ve seen a hint of the real Thomas, breaking through the façade of alley cat O’Malley.

Let’s assume the Gabble Girls geese have rescued Thomas, adding the necessary comic relief. We need to provide some agency now to Duchess to make another choice that helps the group get back to Paris. Time to give her a Test. Maybe she can take advantage of her privilege and read signposts where the rest can’t, so she guides the group with her knowledge over Thomas’ instincts (which can cause some enjoyable friction between them, and may make Duchess second-guess her growing affection for Thomas). Character conflict? You don’t say!

The encounter with the jazztastic alley cats is a perfect Ordeal moment for Duchess, as they will completely pull the kids away from their Aristocatic bearing, letting them improvise, dance, and have fun with abandon and unexpectedly shed that behavior that was vexing Duchess in the beginning. In doing so, the kids yank at conflict strings on Duchess, breaking down that prejudice she has against alley cats. To the point where she herself, all prim and proper, starts to let loose. She and Tom dance, laugh, and escape for a private moment on the rooftop, which actually happens in the movie (but without the earlier set up, it’s just not that effective). The two get close. Duchess and Thomas are about to admit their feelings for each other and touch noses or do whatever it is that cats do. Then from below, one of the now-sleepy kittens asks “Where is Madame?” and Duchess is drawn back in to her old world. Madame would never accept an alley cat. She rejects Thomas, and fails in the Ordeal. Structure! Choices! Another 1/2 star.

So what are we building up to? A final choice that helps earn Duchess her reward.

Duchess gets the kittens back to Manor Madame, much to their owner’s delight, and Edgar’s chagrin. This completes the Road Back segment of the Hero’s Journey, but the entire external journey is not yet finished. Edgar makes another grab for the cats, intending to send them to Timbuktu. Since he’s a bumbling butler, he will have missed Duchess. This is absolutely critical, as she needs to take action to save the day and earn her reward. If we’re doing things absolutely right, Thomas is unintentionally caught in her stead, so she ends up having to save him too. Remember that throwaway claustrophobia we gave him? Not so throwaway now. He flips, stressing the kittens, and ramping up the tension.

Small aside here: I am more or less eliminating Roquefort and Frou Frou from the plot. They’re darlings that should have been cut. They can exist as cute worldbuilding extras, but we don’t let our heroes be rescued in the climax by side characters.

Ah, but don’t the alley cats come in to save the day too? Yes. But here’s the difference. Duchess will choose to go get their help. She’ll have the choice of seeking out Madame (and her old life) and whatever assistance the slow old lady can muster, or racing back to Chateau d’O’Malley to get the jazz cats, because she 1) knows they’re the right people/cats for the job, and 2) has accepted them as worthwhile people and that her prior prejudice against them was wrong. We’ve grown. We’ve made a choice. Now, let’s save the kittens! Another 1/2 star here.

Having cut Roquefort and Frou Frou from the festivities, we’ve lost a lot of the comic buffoonery of the stable setting where the climax takes place. Yet, we already have a ready, and dare I say, better and more fitting, replacement. Duchess has brought the alley cats. They meet up with Edgar in the alley where he’s waiting with the trunk holding the napped kittens and Thomas. How are Duchess and the alley cats to defeat the villain? Use what they have. The instruments. The final sacrifice in the Resurrection is the alley cats’ beloved jazz. A guitar string picks the lock. A drumstick through the shoelaces trips up the villain. And quickly, to wrap up Thomas’ arc, he needs to make a final choice here. Edgar is down and the trunk is opened. Thomas is free and still freaking out from his confinement in the trunk. He sees an opportunity to escape and get back to his old life. But he stays with the kittens (and Duchess). He makes the responsible choice, as we knew he would.

And after many blows to the cranium to the tune of a trumpet, drums, cymbals, guitar, and perhaps even a piano (which Duchess and Thomas both help to drop), Edgar is thwarted. He tumbles into the trunk and is carted away to Timbuktu.

Now to reward the heroes. This will be fun for the audience, and so much more fitting, given the journey the cats have been through. There are so many here we need a list (and some of these do happen in the movie, but aren’t earned like we just made the protagonist do).

  1. Duchess and Thomas admit their mutual feelings.
  2. Madame, having seen the battle, strikes Edgar from her will.
  3. Madame recognizes the kittens’ improved behavior. She gives them their bows back, new and sparkling.
  4. Madame takes a shining to Thomas and says she’s always liked the idea of a man about the house (making flirty eye winks to the old lawyer who’s been helping with the will).
  5. Madame replaces the jazz cats’ instruments and creates a foundation for alley cats.
  6. Thomas joins the family, giving the kittens the father figure they wanted and Duchess a companion she lacked.

Add a full star rating for the resolution.

So there you have it. We’ve turned a 1 out of five 5 stars mess in to a 5-and-a-half stars masterpiece of a story. Wasn’t that hard, was it? I’ll be waiting for that call, Disney.

M

Breaking Bond 2: License to Kill Side Characters

Warning: spoilers ahead! Note: I will also presume you’ve read the previous entry in this series, so if you haven’t, go do that first.

For this installment of my dissection of No Time to Die, we will discuss killing off side characters as a motivational tool for our heroes. Typically this is done in one of three places:

  1. Before the hero has crossed the threshold. The death(s) provide the necessary motivation for the hero to begin the journey. Classic example here is in Star Wars Episode IV. Luke has refused Obi-Wan’s call to adventure (join the Rebellion). He returns to his farm to find Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru murdered by the Empire. Motivation is gained, he agrees to join the Rebellion, and crosses the threshold.
  2. During Trials, Allies, and Enemies or in the Ordeal. Typically a side character’s death here helps the hero (and audience) realize how deadly the antagonist is. In Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring, Gandalf sacrifices himself to stop the Balrog, and allow Frodo and friends to escape the Ordeal of the Mines of Moria. This gives them the chance to regroup (Road Back) and prepare for the final fight (against the Uruk-hai). Frodo is emotionally wounded by the loss of his friend and mentor and is taught a valuable lesson in his fight against the evils of Mordor.
  3. During the Resurrection. Here, side character deaths close subplots, expose the true villainy of the antagonist to give the hero the last bit of oomph to triumph over evil, and (intentionally) traumatize the reader/audience to deepen the emotional impact of the climax. Remember the final battle in Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows? JK Rowling kills off scores of beloved side characters to deepen the emotional resolution of her story. I’m still mad.

In all three, a side character’s death serves to motivate the hero. Get off their butt. Get better prepared to face the villain. Finish the fight, or else the world will end. All common, all useful. Apply directly to the forehead.

So let’s examine what the heck the writers of No Time to Die were thinking when they killed off Jeffrey Wright’s Felix Leiter.

Recall that Bond was pulled out of retirement by Leiter (in a Mentor role) to case a big party that Spectre was having, conveniently not far from Bond’s home. Things go south. Spectre thinks they’re killing Bond in a grand spectacle. They all die instead. Let’s continue.

As Bond is attempting to ascertain how the Spectre party went from his funeral to Spectre’s, he makes off with Spectre’s bumbling scientist Obruchev and steals the new 007’s plane to meet back up with Leiter.

Bond has just come through an intense firefight, exchanged unpleasantries with his MI6 double-0 replacement, and was totally shown up by Ana de Armas’ wickedly fun spy Paloma (she needed way more screen time!). He’s got scores of dead Spectre big wigs at his feet, the snivelling Obruchev by the collar, and some mysterious and way deadly viral agent in a briefcase. Does he need any more motivation to join the journey?

Nope. He’s in. As the plane is in the air approaching Leiter’s fishing boat hideout, Bond’s chest is heaving, his adrenaline is coursing, and he is fully committed to the adventure. He has crossed the threshold.

But moments after Bond meets up with Leiter and presents Obruchev, Leiter’s CIA tagalong, Logan Ash, reveals the turn of his coat and begins shooting. Not a big surprise. Leiter is mortally wounded. Ash absconds with Obruchev and the plane, locks Bond and Leiter inside the boat, and leaves a bomb. Bomb blows, boat sinks, and Bond narrowly escapes with his life (via conveniently available life raft) and the trauma of seeing his friend die.

Well, okay. So that’s a checkmark for Trials, Allies, and Enemies, right?

As my daughter likes to say, “Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!”

Bond doesn’t need to learn how deadly his foe is. Whoever it is just murdered the entirety of Spectre. Yes, this moment teaches Bond and the audience whose side Logan Ash is on, but come on. We knew he was bad the moment we saw that stupid grin on his face. Any time there are two CIA agents involved in the plot, one will end up being a bad guy. It’s a Hollywood staple.

More critically, we need to look at the Hero’s Journey when lined up with the classic Three-Act Structure. The point where the hero crosses the threshold happens when the story moves from Act I to Act II. And that doesn’t happen until after the boat sinks. Why not? Because story beat wise, we’re still wrapping up the Spectre party and firefight afterwards. Yes, the boat is a new scene, but it is the last step in the Spectre party’s sequence of events, and is thusly the final scene of Act I.

Which means structurally, Leiter’s death is supposed to be the final motivating piece to get Bond off his old duff and off to adventureland. And as that, it is 2000% unnecessary. Bond is already there. All the death serves to do is traumatize Bond and the audience. And that’s no fun. Character deaths (at least the ones we care about) should matter both emotionally (easy), and structurally (harder). In the Song of Fire and Ice series (Game of Thrones), it’s okay for George R. R. Martin to off randos with familiar names at regular intervals, because he has a ton to pick from, but more importantly we don’t really care about Ser What’s-his-name-from-three-scenes-ago. The deaths of important characters we care about happen, but less frequently, and with absolute impact to character development. Ned Stark? Mattered to the Starks and served as series-long motivation for Sansa, feeding into Littlefinger’s ultimate comeuppance. Red Wedding? Mattered to Arya who trained to exact sweet, sweet revenge against Walder Frey. Perfect.

Felix Leiter in No Time to Die? Didn’t matter to the hero (motivationally), because he was already on his way to adventure. That sauce is weak, my friends.

So let’s take a look at another 007 film and see where they used Leiter correctly as a motivational tool for Bond.

There’s a special place in my heart for the two Timothy Dalton 007 outings, The Living Daylights and License to Kill. These were the first Bonds I got to see in the theater, and as such, my young mind was expanded to the possibilities of choosing spy as a career. (Spoiler, I didn’t go that route). They had my impressionable teenage mind all aflutter.

I love, love, love The Living Daylights for a handful of reasons which I’ll save for future posts. But it is in Dalton’s second turn, License to Kill, where they use his old friend Felix Leiter to spur Bond into action.

The movie opens with Leiter and Bond on the way to Leiter’s wedding, suddenly called in to assist the DEA in an attempt to capture drug kingpin Sanchez before he leaves US airspace. One thrilling helicopter/airplane chase later, the baddie is snagged, and the two friends parachute (in their tuxedos) right into Leiter’s wedding. Fantastic opening. Full of classic Bondness.

Bond is in America in the Florida Keys for the wedding, so is comedically referred to during this sequence as strictly an observer, but he’s the one to jump out of the helicopter to tie a cable to the tail of Sanchez’s plane. At this point, he’s just helping his friend (Bond is Leiter’s best man at the wedding). He is only superficially aware of the threat that Sanchez poses, through what he gleans from Leiter and the DEA on the lead-in to the chase.

Sanchez quickly escapes (of course) with the help of a local DEA stooge (of course). His lackeys kidnap Leiter and kill his bride Stella. Leiter is strung up and fed to a shark, then left for dead for Bond to find. Here, Bond is taught the true villainy of the antagonist. Leiter survives with grievous wounds and is out of commission. The DEA is unwilling to operate outside of US jurisdiction, so it is left to Bond to pick up the fight. And cross the threshold he does. Begin Act II.

Simple, brutal, and very, very effective. And oh, what that shark scene did to me as a young teen! I hadn’t seen Jaws yet. Yes, Bond and the audience are traumatized appropriately, but it is done in the correct order with respect to the Hero’s Journey and Three-Act Structure and provides motivation for Bond exactly at the right time. They didn’t kill Leiter here, but they certainly could have and the character’s impact on Bond (and the film) would have been even stronger for it.

Bonus points! They also tied that motivation throughout the rest of the movie, as not only does Bond get revenge against the locals that helped Sanchez escape the DEA, he ultimately stops the bad guy in the end by setting him on fire with the gift he received from Felix and Stella at the wedding. That’s hot sauce!

Suffice it to say, I was not a fan of Leiter’s death in No Time to Die. Primarily because of how they did it (see above), but two, I like the character (throughout the Bonds), and three, I love Wright as an actor (hello, Westworld). Now I think they actually elected to kill off Leiter since Bond dies at the end of the film (also intentional). By clearing out all the ties to the old Bondiverse, it gives Amazon (who now owns the lion’s share of MGM (hah)) a clear path to carve out a new Bondiverse that fits in their plans for world domination. All Jeff Bezos needs is a damaged eye and a fluffy white cat and he’d fit right in as the next Blofeld. He’s already been to space, what else is there to accomplish?

What did you think? Leave a comment!

Breaking Bond

For my inaugural posts on Building Worlds, I’m going to discuss the thoroughly entertaining, yet developmentally flawed film, No Time to Die, featuring everyone’s favorite British spy, James Bond. The legendary 007. Be warned, there will be spoilers. Many, many spoilers. 

In fact, I’m going to be spoiling stuff almost straight off the bat, so if you haven’t seen the movie and want to do so without knowing what’s coming, then perhaps wait to read any further until you’ve hit your local theater.

You’ve been warned…

Alright, let’s get to it.

We’re going to talk about the force of antagonism in this post, which features prominently in several key steps along the Hero’s Journey. If you don’t set it up right, the story won’t feel right, and the payoff in the climax isn’t nearly as satisfying.

This past weekend I watched No Time to Die in the theater. Daniel Craig’s final turn as the incomparable James Bond. Now I haven’t gone back and watched all the 007 films since becoming an acolyte of the Hero’s Journey (yes, a teacher actually called me that), but even with my hazy memory, I can say with complete certainty that none of the Bond films are perfect examples of the Journey. Some are good to great (Casino Royale), others not so much (Quantum of Solace). No Time to Die probably falls in the latter category.

But, don’t fret! Like all Bond movies, No Time to Die is still a wild, entertaining ride. In fact, in Craig’s final spin through Bondland, they made some very fun nods to previous entries in the films, including possibly my most favorite 007 moment ever when during a very tense moment, they snuck in the theme music from On Her Majesty’s Secret Service (an instrumental track), which is one of my favorite opening pieces of the entire bunch. They also made use of my favorite Aston Martin, the ’87 Vantage.

Have you ever read a book, or listened to one, or watched a movie and somewhere between a third to halfway through something doesn’t feel right? Kinda hard to put your finger on, but something’s missing? Well, I got that feeling in No Time to Die, but there was no confusion why. 

The relationship between the hero and the antagonistic force (the villain) has to be well established early on, so that the stakes the hero is fighting for matter to the hero in the end. Optimally, this is done at both an external (save the world) and internal (overcome some personal problem) level.

While Spectre (the film) was probably my least favorite of the five Craig Bonds (still good), the internal and external connections to the force of antagonism (Blofeld) are well established. Spectre wants to control the world, and Bond has a personal history with Blofeld. However halfway through No Time to Die, the external antagonist is nebulous (to Bond), and the internal antagonist is practically non-existent. Part of this is, I think, intentional as the writers pull a number of bait-and-switch moves on the audience. Probably to keep us surprised and guessing, but the result isn’t as satisfying as I suspect they had hoped.

Major spoilers ahead. Seriously, last chance.

Early on in the movie, the threat of evil organization Spectre looms. Bond is summoned out of retirement by old friend and CIA agent Felix Leiter (the great Jeffrey Wright) to case a party of Spectre big wigs. Turns out it was a trap to lure Bond to his death (via a DNA-linked form of smallpox macguffin), but the tables are turned and the DNA weapon targets every Spectre agent instead. In moments, the huge evil organization that has clouded the entirety of Craig’s 007 run, as well as a number of older Bond films, is wiped out. In seconds. Yeah, they did that. Shock value: high. Story structure development: net negative.

The only remaining Spectre agent alive is Blofeld (Christoph Waltz) himself, still in the max security prison that Bond put him in at the end of Spectre (the film). He’s had a bionic eye implanted and was using that to spy on the proceedings at the party. Okay, so Blofeld is the big baddie, right? And him wiping out his Spectre buddies is just more example of his evil genius, right? No. Blofeld is soon killed via the same DNA weapon (accidentally by Bond) and is out of the picture. Well now what? Somewhere out there is a nameless, unknown uber-villain, evidently worse and more evil than the legendary Blofeld and Spectre. Surely Bond and MI6 know who it is, right?

Nope.

Ambiguity is fine when the clues are fairly presented and it is part of the character’s development that they haven’t figured things out yet. But the intelligence agency is left scratching their heads with only one nonsensical lead from the Spectre massacre. It feels off, because the audience already knows who the big bad is (by process of elimination, side-character scenes, and order of names in the opening credits), and by this point, a third of the way through, the hero should too. It is Remi Malek’s Safin, with whom Bond has absolutely zero connection. Who does? Bond’s ex, Madeleine (Lea Seydoux). Her father (a Spectre agent) killed Safin’s family when she was a child. Safin comes back for revenge, kills the mother and is about to off Madeleine (via drowning in a frozen river), but decides to save her instead. Traumatic past sounds like the great makings of an internal antagonist, right?

Except it’s not Bond’s! Madeleine suffers greatly from this wound, and if she was the one to triumph over Safin in the end (while Bond stops the weapons from deploying), it would have been immensely gratifying for her (underdeveloped) character arc, and the audience. But, she’s sent off to safety while Bond fights both internal and external fights. His triumph over Safin in the end (because of course, he wins) does save the world, but it provides exactly zero satisfaction of the internal character arc because Bond wasn’t ever connected to Safin except through Madeleine (which she only loosely explains to Bond about two hours in). It doesn’t change Bond, it doesn’t help him grow or get over something he was lacking. It certainly motivates him to defeat Safin, but that’s external, and he already had saving the world as motivation. If he does that, Madeleine gets saved too, so no extra credit there.

And they were so close! Right at the beginning of the film, Bond and Madeleine are enjoying life together, and she’s experiencing nightmarish flashbacks of Safin. Instead of sharing their trauma (Bond still struggling to get past Vesper from Casino Royale), they play coy with their secrets (setting up a lack of trust for Bond ultimately ending their relationship after Spectre blows up Vesper’s tomb when Bond visits). Insead, if Madeleine’s trauma had been revealed and shared, Bond could have gone through the longing for Madeleine (despite dumping her, he never gets over her and they get back together later on for a bit), filtered with analysis of her trauma from Safin. It could have become much more personal for him and would have healed the internal relationship wound he inflicted upon himself in the opening vignette of the film. This would have been even more impactful if Safin had been the one to blow up Vesper’s tomb, providing some personal connection to Bond as well. 

So let’s talk antagonists in general for a second. Well-done stories include character arcs for the villain too. The very best will have an arc that nearly mirrors the hero’s, but ultimately results in a different choice being made and a villainous downfall as the hero triumphs. In Madeleine’s flashback, we are informed that Safin’s family is killed by Spectre. He wants revenge. We first see him already in this state. This is telling, not showing. It is telling the audience the antagonist’s motivation, and it’s done in mere seconds. Within the early minutes of the movie, the villain’s growth is done. From the point where he saves Madeleine from drowning in the icy river onward, he’s the same one-note creepy bad dude.

And sure, good triumphs over evil in the end. We’re glad he loses. But it could have been so much better.

Let’s go back to blowing up the tomb. As presented, it would have made no sense for Safin to have been the person to perpetrate that. But let’s make it make sense, and improve his connection to Bond. What if Safin never knew who killed his family? This eliminates his connection to Madeleine, but honestly we don’t need that. Safin can antagonize Madeleine and her daughter later on in the film, and it would still make sense for his relationship to Bond.

How to build a better villain? Make us sympathize with them a little! After his family was killed by Spectre, Safin could have been adopted by Spectre (jerks, right?) and unwittingly indoctrinated by his family’s murderers. His development as an uber-villain under the auspices of Spectre would make sense, and seem ‘connected’ to the Bondiverse. While in Spectre he would be aware of Bond’s threat and have 007 on his radar. He could have been jealous of Blofeld having a pseudo-brother in Bond. He could have been competitive with Blofeld. Safin, in his own professional dealings as an adult, could have uncovered Spectre’s involvement in killing his family, and thus begins plotting his exit from Spectre and future horrible revenge. Now if he’s the one blowing up Vesper’s tomb (because it is the first step in his grand scheme to bring down Spectre), it connects him to Bond, and opens an internal wound for Bond to close when he blames Madeleine for luring him to Spectre’s trap and it was later revealed to be Safin’s solo work.

Now in fairness, doing all of that would probably take upwards of 10-15 minutes of screen time to accomplish, add a handful of additional actors, speaking roles, sets, and locations, and at 2 hrs 43 mins, the movie is already very long. I can easily see why the studio might give the villain less attention. But I argue that spending that time in the opening moments developing the actual villain, instead of investing it in a thrilling (but developmentally unimpactful) Italian rooftop motorcycle chase (and ultimately leading the audience down the path of a false quest), would have made for a much more satisfying conclusion to the Craig Bond era.

Come back next time when I discuss killing off side characters. Thanks for reading! M