SUPERMAN By The Numbers
This essay was originally posted to Twitter between February 1, 2022 and February 12, 2022. It was composed of 1,077 words across 24 tweets.
According to screenwriting expert Syd Field, all movies fall into a three act structure. The first quarter introduces the characters and their situation, then brings them to the turning point that gets them involved in whatever will be the plot of the movie.
The final quarter starts with a final turning point--the culmination of a crisis, in which the plot will resolve itself. The intervening stretch is all developments and complications that build (or perhaps forestall) that crisis. In order, these segments are acts I, II, and III.
SUPERMAN, though, is a unique case-- a "three act play" by nature, as described by creative consultant and uncredited screenwriter Tom Mankiewicz. Mankiewicz is referring to the separation of sequences in Krypton, Smallville, and Metropolis, rather than turning points.
How would Field analyze SUPERMAN? Per the three act paradigm, the turning point between acts I and II would occur at around 35 minutes--the moment young Clark finds the crystal. Okay, Field is onto something. This part of the movie seems like a turning point to me.
But what of the rocket escaping Krypton, or Superman suiting up for the first time? Surely these are also candidates as the crucial developments that get the plot going in earnest. Does the crystal win the distinction solely because of the inflexible grid imposed by the paradigm?
And the turning point between acts II and III? Per the Field paradigm, this occurs at around 35 minutes from the end--Superman waylaid by the Kryptonite necklace, having to convince Miss Teschmacher to help him escape. Okay, this definitely fits. It propels us towards the end.
But Mankiewicz is arguing that the movie is already separated into three acts, in a manner far different from what Field is talking about. Maybe each piece--Krypton, Smallville, Metropolis--should be considered a story in its own right. How, then, does the Field paradigm apply?
The Krypton sequence, including the journey to Earth, begins at five minutes in and concludes at 23 minutes. This puts the first turning point at nine minutes in--Jor-El refusing to side with Zod--and the last at 17 minutes, when Jor-El and Lara load baby Kal-El into the ship.
The Smallville sequence, including the journey to the arctic circle, covers from 23 minutes to 48 minutes. The initial turning point comes at 30 minutes in--the heart to heart between Clark and Jon. The final turning point is at 42 minutes--the creation of the Fortress.
The final sequence, from Metropolis to the end--and probably the one that most resembles a proper self-contained movie--runs from 48 to 135 minutes. Turning point number one is the helicopter rescue, at 70 minutes. Turning point number two is Luthor with the kryptonite, at 113.
It all makes sense, doesn't it? No matter which way the paradigm is imposed, it manages to unearth some of the most pivotal events in the movie, the moments when a character's goals shift or the stakes are raised.
Even so, there's a readily apparent hair in the soup here.
Imagine Field's paradigm stipulated two acts, or four acts, or five. Any which way you divide a movie up--assuming that it's economically written and well-paced--you're going to find turning points that occur in the prescribed areas. A new complication, an important development.
Film scholar Kristin Thompson has suggested that a typical two hour movie (which SUPERMAN is not) falls into four evenly spaced parts, labeled setup, complicating action, development, and climax. This tracks similarly to the Field paradigm, with an added halfway turning point.
Thompson differs with Field further, arguing that these parts tend to last around half an hour, and that they do not lengthen or shorten in proportion to the movie's total length. Accordingly, a 90 minute movie has three parts. A 2.5 hour movie has five. At least, theoretically.
The halfway point of the total movie is around 70 minutes--the helicopter sequence. Of the Krypton sequence, 14 minutes--the introduction of baby Kal-El. Smallville, 35 minutes--Clark finding the crystal. Metropolis, 122--Superman springing into action to contain the earthquake.
Thompson's analysis accounts for the rhythm and pacing of a movie, as well as how long the audience will tolerate before they start looking for something new. Turning points tend to be spaced out by half hours, simply because the half hour is an ideal interval in a typical movie.
Again, though, this sounds prescriptive, and it's important to understand that no paradigm can be reverse-engineered into the conclusive formula for building a movie. (Though many have tried!) These are merely tools of analysis, for learning more about the movie after the fact.
In a letter regarding Thompson's theory of the four part movie, Harold Ramis discussed his screenplay for Groundhog Day (Ramis, 1993). He regarded his writing process as intuitive, and described his vision of narrative as "a string of pearls," linking one action to the next.
In Ramis's view, "If any particular action doesn’t advance the plot or contain some new information, it doesn’t belong in the narrative." He suggests that many screenwriters likely internalize classical film structure from movies they've seen, then write from it intuitively.
Neither Ramis nor Field nor Thompson is suggesting a definitive answer. Ramis is arguing from a writer's perspective, rather than an analytical one, and the act of sculpture he describes would seem to winnow movies into the distinct units that the analytical models suggest.
Perhaps SUPERMAN is three acts, or four, or five or nine or a dozen. Maybe it has nested acts--three groupings of three, for example. (Like that one lick in the "Stairway to Heaven" guitar solo, with the triplets within triplets.) There are many valid ways of looking at it.
What's important, when examining a movie like this, is that it sheds some understanding on how we experience the movie. Why it feels the way it does, why other movies feel differently, why some movies even have the weird sense that there's pieces to them that don't quite fit.
If this sounds similar to the editing process described in "Deleted Scenes," it's because it is. Writing and editing both require attention to rhythm, pacing, set-ups and pay-offs. They're two sides of the same coin.
Ramis's letter can be found here.
Thompson discusses her four part analytical model here.
Field's book Screenplay can be found through your local independent bookseller.
It has come to my attention on the day of this republication (3/9/2024) that David Bordwell passed away last week at the age of 76. Bordwell was the husband, fellow film scholar, and constant collaborator of Kristin Thompson. The reference materials for this essay come from the website that bears his name.
Bordwell and Thompson's books and essays are a treasure trove for film scholars and casual film buffs alike. So much of what I know and love about movies is sparked by their passion, their insight, and the quality of their writing, which is always down to earth and in plain English.
I strongly recommend their blog, Observations On Film Art. Bordwell's book The Way Hollywood Tells It is also a good starting point.
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Published 3/9/2024
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