Screenwriting Tricks for Authors . Award-Winning Dark Suspense
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Story Structure: Elements of Act Two
For those just finding these posts, here’s what we’ve discussed so far:
Before we move on to Act Two, I want to start with Rob Gregory Browne’s excellent comment on character arc. He said:
—- The one thing I would argue with — and this always gets me into trouble — is character arc.
Most stories take place over a few hours, days, or weeks. Unless you’re writing a sweeping saga, the timeline is very short.
To have a character discover something about herself over such a short period of time — at least to the point where it changes her, is, to my mind, a bit of a stretch.
Generally speaking, people don’t change in a few days, no matter what they’re confronted with. If something major happens, like a death in the family, a mugging, an accident — people are certainly affected by it, but any change they go through would still take months or even years.
Yes, I know we’re talking fiction, and fiction often has a kind of accelerated reality, but I think too many of us put too much emphasis on the idea that your hero has to change in some way.
Does James Bond change? Even in this last, best Bond, Bond went from being a ruthless killing machine to a slightly more ruthless — and pissed off — killing machine. Not much of a change.
Michael Connelly’s Harry Bosch has changed, but it has taken several books — and years — for that arc, and it’s still in progress.
Or look at Jack Reacher. To my mind, he is one of the greatest characters in fiction these days — every writer wishes he’d created a Reacher, and readers love him. But change? Not much. In fact, we don’t WANT him to change. Reacher remains the same solid, unflinching nomad throughout the story, and we know that in the end he’s going to save the day, then walk off alone into the sunset.
Now, I’m not suggesting there’s anything WRONG with a nice character arc, I just don’t think it’s a NECESSARY element of fiction.
My two cents, at least. —-
Well, first, I’d like to disagree that sweeping character change is not possible in a limited time frame. Compression is pretty much the essence of drama, and a great story will present a human being in a crisis, or crucible, that forces great change. That’s one of the main things we seek out in stories, especially standalones, in which you only have that one shot to say EVERYTHING you want to say.
Plus, you know, I’m a drama queen and I need things BIG.
But Rob is right that a lot of classic characters don’t have a huge range of change. So I’d like to restate what I’ve said before about
CHARACTER ARC AND SERIES CHARACTERS
Series hero/ines are a different animal than standalone hero/ines. One theory of this is that readers who are devoted to a series character really want to see the same person, over and over again.
I think it’s a little more complicated than that. I think a lot of classic series characters, especially series detectives – and of course James Bond and his sexier modern incarnation Jack Reacher do spring immediately to mind – are really examples of the “Mysterious Stranger” archetype, and Mysterious Stranger stories have their own story structure. Mary Poppins is the classic Mysterious Stranger; she pops in (get it?), fixes the family, and pops out, while remaining herself “Practically Perfect in Every Way”. SHANE is a great film with a Mysterious Stranger structure, although Shane is a much more wounded Stranger than Mary Poppins – he’s very imperfect, unable to change, and therefore unable to integrate into society in the end – but he does fix the town’s problem and the wound in the family that temporarily takes him in.
James Bond and Jack Reacher are also perfect characters in their ways (although, from a female POV, perfectly infuriating). Rob is right – we don’t want them to change. The trick to the Mysterious Stranger structure is that it’s the OTHER characters who have the big character arcs in the story (although in some Mysterious Stranger stories, the Stranger does have an arc as well. Emma Thompson had some fun with that – as the screenwriter and actress – in the recent film NANNY McPHEE, based on the books by Christianna Brand). And of course not all series detectives are perfect Mysterious Strangers, either – I myself am partial to the flawed ones, like Tess Gerritsen’s surly Jane Rizzoli.
This all goes to emphasize an important point: different genres have very different story structures, and you need to study and understand the classic tricks and expectations of your own genre. That’s why I so adamantly advocate creating your own story structure workbook, as I’ve talked about here:
All right, on to Act Two.
Act Two is summed up by the greats such as, like, you know, Aristotle – as “Rising Tension” or “Progressive Complications”. Or in the classic screenwriting formula: Act One is “Get the Hero Up a Tree”, and Act Two is “Throw Rocks at Him” (and for the impatient out there, I’ll reveal that Act Three is; “Get Him Down.”)
All true enough, but a tad vague for my taste.
So let’s get more specific.
The beginning of the second act of a book or film (30 minutes or thirty script pages into a film, 100 or so pages into a book) – can often be summed up as “Into the Special World” or “Crossing the Threshold”. Dorothy opening the door of her black and white house and stepping into Technicolor Oz one of the most famous and graphic examples… Alice tumbling down the rabbit hole is another. The passageway to the special world might be particularly unique… like the wardrobe in THE LION, THE WITCH AND THE WARDROBE; that between-the-numbers subway platform in the HARRY POTTER series; Alice again, going THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS; the tornado in THE WIZARD OF OZ; the blue pill (or was it the red pill?) in THE MATRIX; or the tesseract in A WRINKLE IN TIME.
This step might come in the first act, or somewhat later in the second act, but it’s generally the end or beginning of a sequence – think of ALIEN (the landing on the planet to investigate the alien ship), STAR WARS, RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARC, going out on the ocean in that too-small boat in JAWS, flying down to Cartagena in ROMANCING THE STONE, flying to Rio in NOTORIOUS, stopping at the Bates Motel in PSYCHO. It’s often the beginning of an actual, physical journey in an action movie; in a ghost story it is entering the haunted house (or haunted anything). It’s a huge moment and deserves special weight.
There is often a character who serves the archetypal function of a “threshold guardian” or “guardian at the gate”, who gives the hero/ine trouble or a warning at this moment of entry – it’s a much-used but often powerfully effective suspense technique – always gets the pulse racing just a little faster, which is pretty much the point of suspense.
And I highly recommend Christopher Vogler’s THE WRITER’S JOURNEY and John Truby’s ANATOMY OF STORY for brilliant in-depth discussions on archetypal characters such as the Herald, Mentor, Shapeshifter, Threshold Guardian, and Fool.
Also very early in the second act the Hero/ine must formulate and state the PLAN. We know the hero/ine’s goal by now (or if we don’t, we need to hear it, specifically.). And now we need to know how the hero/ine intends to go about getting that goal. It needs to be spelled out in no uncertain terms. “Dorothy needs to get to the Emerald City to ask the mysterious Wizard of Oz for help getting home”. “Clarice needs to bargain with Lecter to get him to tell her Buffalo Bill’s identity.”
It’s important to note that it’s human nature to expend the least amount of energy to get what we want. So the hero/ine’s plan will change, constantly – as the hero first takes the absolute minimal steps to achieve her or his goal, and that minimal effort inevitably fails. So then, often reluctantly, the hero/ine has to escalate the plan.
Also throughout the second act, the antagonist has his or her own goal, which is in direct conflict or competition with the hero/ine’s goal. We may actually see the forces of evil plotting their plots (John Grisham does this brilliantly in THE FIRM), or we may only see the effect of the antagonist’s plot in the continual thwarting of the hero/ine’s plans. Both techniques are effective.
This continual opposition of the protagonist’s and antagonist’s plans is the main underlying structure of the second act.
(I’m giving that its own line to make sure it sinks in.)
The hero/ine’s plans should almost always be stated (although something might be held back even from the reader/audience, as in THE MALTESE FALCON). The antagonist’s plans might be clearly stated or kept hidden – but the EFFECT of his/her/their plotting should be evident. It’s good storytelling if we, the reader or audience, are able to look back on the story at the end and understand how the hero/ine’s failures actually had to do with the antagonist’s scheming.
Another important storytelling and suspense technique is keeping the hero/ine and antagonist in close proximity. Think of it as a chess game – the players are in a very small, confined space, and always passing within inches of each other, whether or not they’re aware of it. They should cross paths often, even if it’s not until the end until the hero/ine and the audience understand that the antagonist has been there in the shadows all along. In movies like THE FUGITIVE, you can see Richard Kimble and U.S. Marshal Gerard passing each other by inches, sometimes. It’s a great suspense technique in itself (and oh, does Hollywood love this mano a mano stuff…)
Besides this continual clash of opposing plans, the hero/ine’s allies will be introduced in the second act, if they haven’t already been introduced in Act One.
In fact there is often an entire sequence called “Assembling the Team” which comes early in the second act. The hero has a task and needs a group of specialists to get it done. Action movies, spy movies and caper movies very often have this step and it often lasts a whole sequence. Think of ARMAGEDDON, THE STING, MISSION IMPOSSIBLE (I mean the great TV series, of course), THE DIRTY DOZEN, STAR WARS – and again, THE WIZARD OF OZ. One of the delights of a sequence like this is that you see a bunch of highly skilled pros in top form – or alternately, a bunch of unlikely losers that you root for because they’re so perfectly pathetic. I had fun with this in THE HARROWING – even if you’re not writing an action or caper story, which I definitely wasn’t in that book, if you’ve got an ensemble cast of characters, the techniques of a “Gathering the Team” sequence can be hugely helpful. The inevitable clash of personalities, the constant divaness and one-upmanship, and the reluctant bonding make for some great scenes – it’s a lively and compelling storytelling technique.
There is also often a TRAINING SEQUENCE in the first half of the second act. In a mentor movie, this is a pretty obligatory sequence. Think of KARATE KID, and that priceless Meeting the Mentor/Training sequence that introduces Yoda in THE EMPIRE STRIKES BACK.
There’s often a SERIES OF TESTS designed by the mentor (look at AN OFFICER AND A GENTLEMAN and SILENCE OF THE LAMBS).
Another inevitable element of the training sequence is PLANTS AND PAYOFFS. For example, we learn that the hero/ine (and/or other members of the team) has a certain weakness in battle. That weakness will naturally have to be tested in the final battle. Yoda continually gets angry with Luke for not trusting the Force… so in his final battle with Vader, Luke’s only chance of survival is putting his entire fate in the hands of the Force he’s not sure he believes in. Lovely moment of spiritual transcendence.
Very often in the second act we will see a battle before the final battle in which the hero/ine fails because of this weakness, so the suspense is even greater when s/he goes into the final battle in the third act. An absolutely beautiful example of this is in the film DIRTY DANCING. In rehearsal after rehearsal, Baby can never, ever keep her balance in that flashy dance lift. She and Patrick attempt the lift in an early dance performance, Baby chickens out, and they cover the flub in an endearingly comic way. But in that final performance number she nails the lift, and it’s a great moment for her as a character and for the audience, quite literally uplifting.
Of course you’ll want to weave Plants and Payoffs all through the story… you can often develop these in rewrites, and it’s a good idea to do one read-through just looking for places to plant and payoff. A classic example of a plant is Indy freaking out about the snake on the plane in the first few minutes of RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARK. The plant is cleverly hidden because we think it’s just a comic moment – this big, bad hero just survived a maze of lethal booby traps and an entire tribe of warriors trying to kill him – and then he wimps out about a little old snake. But the real payoff comes way later when Salla slides the stone slab off the entrance to the tomb and Indy shines the light down into the pit – to reveal a live mass of thousands of coiling snakes. It’s so much later in the film that we’ve completely forgotten that Indy has a pathological fear of snakes – but that’s what makes it all so funny.
I very strongly encourage novelists to start watching movies for Plants and Payoffs. It’s a delicious storytelling trick that filmmakers are particularly aware of and deft at… it’s all a big seductive game to play with your audience, and an audience eats it up.
Other names for this technique are Setup/Reveal or simply FORESHADOWING (which can be a bit different, more subtle). Woody Allen’s latest film, VICKI CRISTINA BARCELONA, does this beautifully with the long buildup to the intro of Maria Lena, the Penelope Cruz character. Penelope completely delivers on her introduction and I think she’s a shoo-in for an Oscar nomination for that one.
The Training Sequence can also involve a “Gathering the Tools” or “Gadget” Sequence. The wild gadgets and makeup were a huge part of the appeal of MISSION IMPOSSIBLE (original) and spoofed to hysterical success in GET SMART (original), and these days, CSI uses the same technique to massive popular effect.
In a love story or romantic comedy the Training Sequence or Tools Sequence is often a Shopping Sequence or a Workout Sequence. The heroine, with the help of a mentor or ally, undergoes a transformation through acquiring the most important of tools – the right clothes and shoes and hair style. It’s worked since Cinderella – whose personal shopper/fairy godmother considerately made house calls.
And the fairy tale version of Gathering the Tools is a really useful structure to look at. Remember all those tales in which the hero or heroine was innocently kind to horrible old hags or helpless animals (or even apple trees), and those creatures and old ladies gave them gifts that turned out to be magical at just the right moment? Plant/Payoff and moral lesson at the same time.
I’d also like to point out that if you happen to have a both a Gathering the Team and a Training sequence in your second act, that can add up to a whole fourth of your story right there! Awesome! You’re halfway through already!
In an action story or a thriller or mystery – or even a fantasy like HARRY POTTER or THE WIZARD OF OZ – in Act Two there will be continual ATTACKS ON THE HERO/INE by the antagonist and/or forces of opposition. These will often start subtly and then increase in severity and danger.
In a detective story, Act Two, Part Two often consists very specifically of INTERVIEWING WITNESSES, FOLLOWING CLUES and LINING UP THE SUSPECTS, very often interspersed with ACTION SEQUENCES and ATTACKS ON THE HERO/INE. You will want to weave in RED HERRINGS and FALSE LEADS. And there’s another convention of the genre you’ll want to look at, which is THE DETECTIVE VOICING HIS/HER THEORY. Mysteries are by nature convoluted, because there are so many possible explanations for what’s going on, so don’t be afraid to have your detective just say what s/he’s thinking aloud. Your reader or audience will be grateful.
If this is the genre you’re writing in, you will definitely want to break down several classics to see how these elements and sequences are handled. MURDER ON THE ORIENT EXPRESS, SILENCE OF THE LAMBS, and CHINATOWN are great examples to analyze. (See my breakdown of CHINATOWN for a more specific discussion of these story elements).
Also in the second act (but maybe not until the second half of the second act) you may be setting a TIME CLOCK or TICKING CLOCK, which I’ll talk more about in an upcoming post on suspense techniques.
And you’ll also want to be continually working the dynamic of HOPE and FEAR – you want to be clear about what your audience/reader hopes for your character and fears for your character, as I talked about in the Elements of Act One.
A screenwriting trick that I strongly encourage novelists to look at is the filmmakers’ habit of STATING the hope/fear/stakes, right out loud. Think of these moments from
JAWS: “We’re gonna need a bigger boat.” (Well, yeah, they should have, shouldn’t they?)
SILENCE OF THE LAMBS: “Do NOT tell him anything personal about yourself. Believe me, you don’t want Hannibal Lecter inside your head.” (And what does Clarice proceed to do?)
ALIEN: “It’s going to eat through the hull!” (When they first cut the alien off John Hurt and its blood sizzles straight through three layers of metal flooring. How do you kill a creature that bleeds acid without annihilating yourself in the process?)
The writers just had the characters say flat out what we’re supposed to be afraid of. Spell it out. It works.
Okay, this is long enough for one blog so we’ll continue next week, after I say one more thing.
All of the first half of the second act – that’s 30 pages in a script, or about 100 pages (p. 100 to p. 200) in a 400 page book, is leading up to the MIDPOINT. This is one of the most important scenes or sequences in any story – a huge shift in the dynamics of the story. Something huge will be revealed; something goes disastrously wrong; someone close to the hero/ine dies, intensifying her or his commitment (What I call the “Now it’s personal” scene… imagine Clint Eastwood or Bruce Willis growling the line), or the whole emotional dynamic between characters changes with what Hollywood calls, “Sex at Sixty” (that’s 60 pages, not sixty years.) And this will often be one of the most memorable visual SETPIECES of the story (more on setpieces to come), just to further drive its importance home.
We’ll pick it up next week – Act Two, Part Two. Or maybe I should stop and talk about visual storytelling and creating suspense, first, since that all has to be working at the same time.
But in the meantime – is this making sense? Can you give me any great examples of the story structure elements we’ve talked about here?
If you’re a romance writer, or have a strong love plot or subplot in your novel or script, then Writing Love: Screenwriting Tricks II is an expanded version of the first workbook with a special emphasis on love stories.
– Smashwords (includes online viewing and pdf file)
This was an interesting read. I’m currently on 32k which I guess is about the end of the first act and I smiled wryly reading all the elements of Act 2 you listed and comparing with my outline. They were all there.
It’s strange isn’t it? I’d never referred to Acts etc until a conversation with Mike Marshall Smith made me say ‘Acts? Huh?’ and he said, ‘oh shut up, trust me, you know what they are..’ I think most novelists do it instinctively..which creates a whole different discussion on why that might be..
But fab essay lady.. as usual!
Oh, yeah, you definitely have it all going in your books.
I think I’m hyper aware of acts because of all the theater I did – it’s physically ingrained in me. I still think of act climaxes as “curtains” – you have a big finish, a musical number, a major revelation, just before the curtain, which virtually ensures that the audience will come back after intermission to see what happens next. It’s just good business! 😉
Same principle in television – you need to get the viewers back after the commercial.
We do it “instinctively” because we’re obsessed with storyteling and we study it. Even when we don’t have the names for it, we feel the rhythm of it.
I just wanted to pop in and say that I am getting so much out of these posts, Alexandra. They have really helped me whip my outline into shape. Thank you VERY much for sharing this information. I look forward to your future posts.
Kristine, I really appreciate your saying so. Of course I’m talking to myself, here (blasting into a second draft and OH, do I need the refresher course!). But it’s great to know that other people are getting something out of it, too.
I will admit, Alexandra, that you argue a great point about a plot’s timeline and the plausibility of a character going through a drastic change. However, the characters you cited may perhaps be you greatest point, but what if. that formula works best with characters that are introduced to us in one story? Perhaps, this is our first look at them, and to give them an internal conflict in which they have to overcome is one of the foundations of protagonist characterizations.
This is a wonderful post!
Hey Ace, how nice to see you here!
You’ve hit on a classic rule of storytelling – “Start with the hero/ine in crisis.” Whether or not the character knows s/he’s in crisis is up to you and the story – often the character thinks everything is just fine, while we, the audience or reader, quickly gather that her whole world is unraveling around her.
And yes, that’s a great way to make big character change more plausible within the confines of a a single story, because the crisis has obviously taken years to develop, and radical change is necessary for the protagonist’s happiness or even survival.
And yes, you’re also right on the money that this works best for a standalone, which generally demands a more radical character change than you find in a series.
That was an interesting read!
Hi, Alex! Do you remember me? I’m Nadia, and we talked a bit on Suzanne Beecher’s Book Club.
So, how are you? Guess what, I finally found a copy of The Harrowing!
Nadia, you weren’t supposed to buy that yourself. I still have copies of THE HARROWING and THE PRICE for you – I just got hit by a nasty flu a couple weeks ago and still haven’t been able to get to the post office yet. All this traveling has really taken a toll on my immune system. 🙁
Hopefully this week.
But I’m glad you found your way here, anyway!
Thanks for this great information. I will definitely be back for more and have added this blog to my blogroll for writers.
A Death in Texas
So glad it’s useful, Charlotte, and thanks for the add! What’s the URL of your blog?
This is great! I’ll be back, taking notes.
That’s great, Holly – glad to have you here!
Oh, I didn’t buy it yet. It’s absolutely unbelievable – my bookstore STILL doesn’t have a copy, and it doesn’t look like they will anytime soon. I’m on the waiting list for the Harrowing at the library. and I’m still waiting. Apparently, people take a long time to read good books. 😛
Oh, that sounds terrible! Are you doing better?
Oh, good. I will send both books out to you, then.
It will be a lot easier for you to get my books in NZ and Australia next year – Little, Brown, UK is publishing THE HARROWING in April, THE PRICE in August, and THE UNSEEN in November.
Thanks for being patient!
Haha, no problem at all! Thankyou very much, I extremely appreciate it. It’s such a warm sentiment!
Ooh, what’s THE UNSEEN? A new book?
Really I respect the sort of sentimental sentiments passed on. But anyhow it was undeniably keen and interesting to read.
On The Waterfront (once again)
About 60 minutes into the film and Terry Malloy’s freind, Kayo Dugan is crushed by a ton of Irish Whiskey while working in the hole of a freighter. It’s clearly no accident. This spurs Terry into finally agreeing to speak the truth about his corrupt union boss to Father Barry. However Terry’s dark of the soul also seems to entwine with the ‘now it’s personal’ aspect towards the end of the film when Terry finds his brother‘s dead body hanging from a cargo hook in an alley — executed. Suddenly his desire to do what’s right becomes VERY personal. “I’m gonna take it out on their skulls.”
Re: Gathering the team, how about 50 First Dates? Adam Sandler sees the ‘other’ Lucy, the dad, brother, the doctor, guy at the reception desk, 10-second Tom, the newspaper, wall painting and accident photos. all in one sequence.
I’m pleased with mself as I have so many of these elements you’re teaching, already in my novels & scripts without ever having been taught. Thank you, Alexandra!
another great example of that ‘assembling the team’ part of a second act is the entire sequence in Inception when Cobb first meets Ariadne up to when she discovers his ‘prison of memories’. But that’s besides the point. how would I introduce an antagonist if my character’s antagonist is his own mind?
You are so damn helpful. I’ve read many screenwriting books, but this resonates.
And now, a second act for film and vinyl
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It’s become one of the fastest-growing market niches in the tech world — machines for people who like doing things the hard way.
Most of us were perfectly happy when vinyl records and cassette tapes gave way to CDs, MP3s, and streaming music, and digital cameras overtook film. The electronic substitutes are easier to use and cheaper too.
But increasingly consumers are willing to put up with the messy imperfections of analog media over the cool precision of digital. They’ve come to enjoy the clicks and pops of a worn phonograph record, or the flamboyant, exaggerated colors of images captured on celluloid instead of silicon. There’s also something of a retro-cool factor at work, and increasingly tracking down old albums or seeing movies in original film format is a social thing among friends.
That helps explain why consumers bought $416 million in vinyl records in 2015, the most in nearly three decades. Or why Fujifilm’s sales of Instax film-based cameras, 5 million in fiscal 2015, surpassed those of its digital cameras.
I began to understand this intensity while at the CES (Consumer Electronics Show) earlier in January. There were a number of companies showing off vinyl turntables; my favorite was GPinto, an Italian outfit that makes a $3,000 platter with a built-in amplifier driven by old-school vacuum tubes.
Meanwhile Eastman Kodak Co., inventor of the digital cameras that nearly drove it bankrupt, will push analog nostalgia to the limit with a new kind of movie camera that costs more than most laptops. The $2,000 camera, due to go on sale this spring, shoots Super 8 film, a format invented in 1965. Each film cartridge costs around $25 and delivers just 2.5 minutes of shooting time. That’s a hundred bucks to shoot a 10-minute movie, not counting the cost to develop the film.
Yet company spokeswoman Louise Kehoe said Kodak has been ”inundated with inquiries from people all over the world” since it first proposed to build the camera last year. The company has begun designing cheaper versions of the camera for the mass market, and it recently resumed production of Ektachrome, a movie film it stopped making four years ago.
I’m late to the analog explosion, but David Sax saw it coming years ago, and has written a new book, “The Revenge of Analog,” about the old-tech renaissance.
During a phone chat, Sax said for most folks old enough to be reared on analog gear, the transition to digital devices still seems miraculous. But for millennials, “there’s nothing necessarily special or magical about digital technology,” said Sax. “It’s what they’ve known.” To them, the obsolete analog stuff seems smart and sophisticated.
Do vinyl records played on vacuum-tube amps sound better than digital? Who cares? What seems to matter to most fans is the deeper, more social experience of tracking down old albums, admiring their ornate covers, or showing off your collection to friends.
“Nobody goes to somebody’s house and says, look at my Spotify playlist,” said Sax.
Analog is also catching on in recording studios, Sax said. Bands like Alabama Shakes and Arcade Fire have rebelled against digital gear that lets them record two dozen takes of each song, digitally snip a few notes from each one, and cobble together a “perfect” version. With analog recording, the musicians just play and sing as best they can, and produce recordings with the immediacy of a real performance.
The same goes for cinema, according to Diane Carroll-Yacoby, the commercialization manager for Kodak’s movie film business. Renowned Hollywood directors like Martin Scorsese and Christopher Nolan insist on film rather than digital video.
“People revere the shots done on film, because those are the money shots,” said Carroll-Yacoby.
She means that literally; a single canister of pro-grade movie film, enough for about 10 minutes, can cost $1,000 or more. So when the camera rolls, “people do their best, and they do it in two or three takes,” Carroll-Yacoby said. “They may not get as much, but everything they get is special.”
But few of the new products are purely analog. The GPinto turntable-amp features USB and Bluetooth support, to allow it to also play tunes stored on your smartphone. The Kodak Super 8 camera includes a fold-out video viewfinder, just like a digital camcorder, as well as an audio recording system for giving the movie a soundtrack.
Still, at their heart these gadgets rely on costly, clumsy analog methods to record and reproduce the sights and sounds of the world. To geezers like me, still intoxicated by the simplicity of our digital gear, this all seems too much like work. But for the analog loyalists, harder is better.