sets off to replace a rug and winds up a pawn in
someone else’s mystery. The goal changes every day
for William James, the danger-addicted protagonist
of Kathryn Bigelow’s Iraq war drama The Hurt
Locker(2008; screenwriter: Mark Boal)—but it’s
always the same goal: defuse the bomb before it
explodes. Ultimately, James’s toughest battle is with
his own inner demons.
Whatever the goal, the nature of the pursuit
depends on the individual character. Nina trains,
panics, and sprouts black feathers. Mattie gets on
the first train to Fort Smith and scours the frontier
town for a lawman with true grit. Dorothy follows
the Yellow Brick Road. This active pursuit of the
goal signals the beginning of the second act.
The moment Dorothy is off to see the Wizard, the
audience begins to ask themselves what screenwrit-
ers call the central question: will she ever get back
to Kansas? Whether the question whispers within
our subconscious mind or we shout it at the screen,
it is this expectation, this impulse to learn what
happens and how it happens, that keeps us engaged
with the narrative. We need to know if Nina will
learn to let go and embrace the Black Swan inside
her—and hold on to her sanity. We must find out if
the spunky teenager Mattie can actually manage to
wrangle Rooster Cogburn and track down the elu-
sive Tom Chaney. We want to see if Rocky can beat
the odds and defeat Apollo Creed to become heavy-
weight champ.
Naturally, in most cases, we want the answer to
the central question to be yes. The irony, however, is
that if the goal is quickly and easily attained, our
story is over. This is where conflict comes in. Narra-
tive depends on obstacles to block, or at least impede,
our protagonist’s quest for the goal. The person,
people, creature, or force responsible for obstruct-
ing our protagonist is known as the antagonist.
Sometimes, the identity and nature of the antago-
nist are clear-cut. The Wicked Witch is obviously
the antagonist of The Wizard of Ozbecause she sets
the scarecrow on fire, conjures a field of sleep-
inducing poppies, and imprisons Dorothy. But we
have to be careful with this term because, while
most movies have a single—or at least primary—
protagonist, the nature of the antagonist is much
more variable. In The Big Lebowski, The Dude is
beaten and bamboozled by a host of oddballs who
each use him for his or her own obscure purposes.
One might say that the fugitive Tom Chaney is the
antagonist of True Grit. After all, he gunned down
Mattie’s beloved father. But he doesn’t even appear
on-screen until two-thirds into the movie. Before
she discovers (and is taken hostage by) Chaney,
Mattie’s obstacles are imposed by mostly well-
meaning characters concerned for the safety of the
plucky young heroine. So, just as not every protag-
onist is a hero, not every antagonist is necessarily a
villain. The imposing ballet director in Black Swan
intimidates and manipulates Nina, but he also sin-
cerely wants her to succeed. The restricted narra-
tion makes it difficult to determine any actual
malice on the part of Nina’s gifted understudy.
Even the dark forces represented by Nina’s appar-
ent hallucinations play a role in pushing her toward
greatness. Nina’s greatest adversary is herself.
The antagonist need not even be human. Oppo-
sition and obstacles are supplied by a persistent
shark in Steven Spielberg’s Jaws(1975; screenwrit-
ers: Peter Benchley and Carl Gottleib); the harsh
elements and isolation of the Andes mountains
in Frank Marshall’s Alive(1993; screenwriter: John
Patrick Shanley); and a very stubborn rock in
Danny Boyle’s 127 Hours (2010; screenwriters:
Boyle and Simon Beaufoy).
Whatever the source, obstacles are the second
act’s key ingredient. Let’s take a closer look at
127 Hoursto see how obstacles help construct and
drive the narrative. We’ll start with a quick look at
the setup in the first act: in the opening scene, the
way the protagonist Aron Ralston (James Franco)
packs establishes that he is a loner and an experi-
enced, if overconfident, outdoorsman. As he scram-
bles around his spartan apartment throwing
climbing gear and provisions into a day bag, he
doesn’t bother to locate his missing Swiss Army
knife and ignores a call from his sister. Now that
the narration has conveyed some of Aron’s flaws, he
has some room to grow, and we’re prepared to
chart and appreciate his development as the
adventure unfolds.
Aron ventures into the desert wilds of the remote
Canyonlands National Park. Along the way, he reaf-
firms his character traits by luring two noviceWHAT IS NARRATIVE? 133