Here's a technique that a lot of shows never seem to consider, but which I think can be so damn satisfying when it lands. I call it "the Mission Statement," and by that I refer to a moment in a series where a character expresses something that captures the essence either of their character or the show as a whole.
It's the kind of thing you might see in a pilot as part of establishing the contract you're making with the audience. This is who/what we're playing with here.
But in my experience it often works better later in a show, whether expressed for the first time or as a kind of reprise.
In 404, written by Paul Dichter, we get Max offering an absolutely perfection of this. The out of nowhere twist at the end of 403 is that in fact she is Vecna's next intended victim. And where her friends are all like, we're going to protect you from this thing that we don't at all understand, she has seen so much bad stuff in her life (including last season) that her own attitude is acceptance. She writes letters to everyone she cares about and goes to visit the grave of her dead psychotic stepbrother Billy. It's just a matter of time.
And at one point in the middle of it all, sweet sweet Lucas tells her not to give up, it's going to be okay. And this is how she responds: "I don’t need you to reassure me right now and tell me that it’s all going to work out, because people have been telling me that my whole life and it’s almost never true. It’s never true."
It's a perfect Mission Statement. In fact it's a twofer--it both captures Max's experience and reality, and the whole cast's. You look at Eleven, Will, Joyce, Hopper, etc. and it's all the same. Their lives pre-show are filled with loss. And within the show there has proven to be more hope, they successfully face each new level of nightmare. But at the same time it never ends. The jury is very much still out on whether they all make it out of the show alive or okay.
The writing doesn't dwell on any of this. We don't have the group suddenly saying, Oh God, that's my life, too. And that's part of what makes it so successfully. It says its piece and moves on.
Stepping back, here's what we can learn from episode 404 about how to do a mission statement well:
1) Organic, Not Instant: When you're writing you really want to make it clear who your characters, what their essential problem is. But at the same time you have to wait for the right moment, that is, the moment where that information would come naturally. If you don't, it will come off as on the nose, that is, the characters are not speaking like they normally would. When we really mess it up, the audience can pretty much see us standing there with our hands up our characters' backs, getting them to say our words.
The Max moment works because it's completely organic to the situation. She is reacting to reassurance that she knows to be bullshit. And because it's organic it's also a surprise to us. It's like out of the blue the smoke clears for an instant and we get a moment of perfect clarity. We could not have seen it coming.
Another way of putting this, which I've talked about before, is that her statement, which is a kind of exposition, really, takes place within a real conflict. And as a result of that, instead of coming off as exposition, it comes off as part of the verbal duel she's in.
2) Be Brief, Be Brilliant, Be Gone: Max's response is just 37 words. That's all she needs. I'd love to know if Dichter had it that concise right away. My guess is no, he went through drafts before he got to this finely distilled statement.
Brevity and brilliance kind of go hand in hand here, or at least they do for many of us. So much of scriptwriting is distillation, filtering away everything you don't need until you're left with something pure and simple. And the character says it, and moves on.
3) It Should Give the Character Wings: Max's statement has momentum to it. That is to say, it points her in a direction. Life sucks, I'm doomed, so I'm going to do what I'm going to do.
This is why I call it a "mission statement." Even as it's a statement of identity, it's never just that. It sets the character in motion. And here, as it's also a mission statement for the show as a whole, it sets not just Max in motion, but everyone else. She's making her peace with the world; they're responding in the opposite way, but they're both responding to that same prompt.
A mission statement articulates the central problem or dilemma of a show. And being confronted with that problem should cause everyone to make choices.
When it doesn't, when it's just sharing, it almost immediately becomes dead weight. By its nature it begs for a response.
Again, mission statements can be a little dicey in a pilot; if you don't tread lightly, they'll see you doing it. But still, if you want an exercise to try, watch a random pilot. (If you want a suggestion, watch the pilot of EUPHORIA. It's so smart.) And pay attention for a mission statement or statements. What are they? Where are they? Do they work? If not, why not?
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Here's one more thing to remember about a Mission Statement. If it's done right, it really sells the audience on the character. 404 is Max's episode with or without that statement to the guys, but in saying that, she's established her own terrible stakes, which she'll spend the rest of the episode dealing with. And when she finally decides to fight back, to try and escape Vecna, it's just so damn satisfying in part because she articulated at the start how impossible that was.
People love Jane, but I have to say, this season it's been Max that's the beating heart at the center of the show. Love her so much.
