Critics love to pan a film by saying that the character doesn’t grow and change. Character development is essential to a good story. As a character moves from motivation to goal, something needs to happen in the process. A well-drawn character gains something by their participation in the story, and a story gains something from the character’s involvement.

Earlier we spoke about how Rose in The African Queen changed the direction of the story because of her personality and willfulness and determination. We see a similar relationship between character and story with Edna in Places in the Heart, or Martin and Matt in Jaws, or Oskar in Schindler’s List.

Each of these characters entered the story as dimensional, nonstereotypical characters. Each of them became more dimensional as the story and other characters acted upon them-advising them, teaching them, fighting with them, confronting them, pressuring them, and influencing them. Because they were characters who were as big as life, they were capable of developing and being transformed.

We’ve all seen stereotypical characters who are defined by their physicality. They’re one-dimensional. They can usually be described in one or two words: the dumb blonde; the macho detective; the muscle-bound lifeguard; the voluptuous model. Sometimes these characters only have a small role in the story and act as kind of window dressing for the set. But sometimes these types are main characters who limit the film because of their limited dimensions. Well-drawn characters are broader, more fleshed out. We see different sides of them. We understand how they think. We see them act. And we’re aware of their emotional make-up through their responses.

Thoughts, actions, and emotions might be defined as the three dimensions of the character.

Most films shortchange one or two of these dimensions. They will emphasize one above the other, creating character types. A character type is a character who is defined by only one category. James Bond is a character type. He’s a hero. He’s defined by action. We know little about his attitudes (except that he likes to sleep with attractive women). His emotional life is irrelevant and almost nonexistent. You’ll never see James Bond cry, show fear, show insecurity, get angry, or be anything other than cool.

We’ve all seen other types. The weeping widow who is all emotion, the pontificating scholar who is all philosophy, the rescuing hero who is all action.

Each of these categories can be further divided. Thinking consists of actions as well as the decisions that lead to the action. And emotions include the emotional makeup of the character as well as emotional responses. With any well-drawn character, one of these categories might be stronger, but each of them will contribute to creating a three-dimensional character.

Philosophy is the most difficult to portray. Characters who are defined too much by their philosophy become abstract, talky, self-indulgent, and usually boring. Yet every dimensional character has a philosophy. Characters do believe in something; perhaps in religion, women’s rights, gay liberation, or God, mother and apple pie. What they believe will begin to affect their actions. A character who believes in gay liberation might march, might be quite vocal about it, or might be a practicing homosexual. That philosophy will begin to find dramatic form in the actions he does.

Characters have attitudes toward life. They might be cynical, or positive, or happy-go-lucky, or aggressive. All good characters take a stance toward life. They might have a healthy outlook; they might be neurotic. They might be confident; they might be insecure. They might look at life through rose-colored or gray-colored glasses. And their attitudes will have an effect on the actions they take and the way they relate to other characters.

We know the truth about a character through attitude and action rather than through philosophy. When philosophy and action conflict, then we have a hypocrite. If I tell you, “I love humanity” and then proceed to keep everyone at a distance and go out of my way to make other people’s lives miserable, obviously my attitude and actions define me and my philosophy is nothing but empty words.

Attitude is more actable than philosophy. It is more easily expressed through action. It’s not that difficult to show compassions, or love, or receptivity, or cynicism. But the danger of both philosophy and attitude is the temptations to have the character talk this dimension rather than act it.

Action is the lifeblood of drama. In a novel we might focus on feelings and attitudes and beliefs. In drama the focus is action. Action is divided into two parts: the decision to act and the act itself.

When we look at films, we usually see only the action. Yet it’s the decision to act that helps us understand how the character’s mind works. The moment of decision-whether to pull the trigger at that moment, whether to say “yes” to an assignment, whether to commit to a relationship-is usually a strong moment of character revelation.

In Tootsie, we see a strong comedic scene when Michael has to decide quickly what to do. He is waiting to take Sandy out to dinner. While waiting, he notices a “cute little dress” that looks “just right” for Dorothy in Sandy’s closet. He decides to try it on at just the moment that Sandy comes into the bedroom. The moment is open to misinterpretation unless Michael decides and acts quickly:

She sees Michael, pants down, and reacts. Michael jumps up, trying to cover himself, and trying to figure out what to say.


And we laugh at Michael’s quick thinking.

John Book in Witness decides not to make love with Rachel the night of the barn-raising, and that decision is one of the most powerful moments of the film. Rose, in The African Queen, decides to allow Allnutt to sleep under the awning with her, out of the rain, and that decision begins the change in their relationship. Sam Gerard in The Fugitive decides what to do and how to do it throughout the film.

Decisions must lead to specific actions. Characters need to be active in a story. It is the job of the main character to drive the story forward with his/her actions. Characters can be active in many different ways. They can search, investigate, uncover, outwit, plan strategy, transform others and themselves, create new environments, manipulate, avenge, and right a wrong. Whatever the action, it’s important that it has the ability to drive the story forward, that it takes a number of beats to execute the action, and that it affects the outcome of the story.

There are some stories in which the character begins as a passive character. The story happens to them, and they are pushed in certain directions by the story. In this situation, the main character has to take over at some point. Somewhere, and certainly before the middle of the story, the character needs to begin pushing back. The character needs to begin making the story happen, rather than being at the mercy of the story.

Emotions often get left out of stories. Or sometimes emotions are limited, consisting of tears and anger and little else. Yet characters have emotional lives that define the character just as their attitudes define them. Their cynical attitude might result in despair or depression or in withdrawal from life. They might be sulky, bitter, or angry. A positive attitude might result in a character that smiles or laughs a lot, or is always optimistic, accessible, and reaches out. Or a character might be cool as a result of inaccessible emotions, or hard-hearted, or hostile and vengeful.

Characters’ emotional lives define them, and their emotional responses expand this definition. Extraordinary situations bring out extraordinary emotional responses. A character who is usually happy may become angry at an injustice that’s been done. A despairing character may be touched by love and whole new emotional responses will emerge. Some films show characters with a very narrow emotional range. Rarely do we knowhow Karen Blixen feels in Out of Africa. At most times, whether the burning of her plantation or her divorce from Bror, she responds rationally. She is more apt to discuss a situation than to cry, get angry, or be afraid. But even her usual response changes under extraordinary circumstances. When Denis Finch-Hatten takes her on her first airplane ride over stunningly beautiful Africa, she gently and tearfully reaches back to clasp his hand in a profound “thank you.”

On the opposite extreme, a character such as Tess McGill in Working Girl has a very broad emotional palette. Throughout the film, she shows disappointment, anger, determination, anxiety, and joy-her emotional responses pull us into her character and into the film.

Just as many films leave out the beat in the story where the character decides to an action, they also leave out the beat that shows the emotional response to the action. Films often show powerful action with a powerful impact. They show the effect these have upon the characters. Sometimes we see someone blown away, but we don’t see the emotional response that makes the character understandable. How s/he feels creates sympathy in the audience. It creates identification with the character. Emotions pull us into the story. We experience vicariously the character’s journey through their emotions.

THE DIMENSIONAL CHAIN
These dimensions create a dimensional sequence that helps define the character on each level. A character’s philosophy creates certain attitudes toward life. These attitudes create decisions that create actions. These actions come out of the character’s emotional life, which helps predispose the character to do certain things and not doing others. And as a result of the actions of other characters, the character responds emotionally in a certain way.

THE TRANSFORMATIONAL ARC
In the best of films, at least one of the characters becomes transformed in the process of living out the story. Producers often ask the question, “How does the character change and grow?” They recognize that a strong story with strong characters has the potential to influence and transform the protagonist. Not every film needs a transformational arc, although many of the best films will show at least one of the characters becoming transformed in the process of living out the story. Usually the character transformed is the protagonist. Think about the transformations in Unforgiven, Fatal Attraction, or the Piano. Sometimes the main character stays the same, but the supporting characters change. In Back to the Future, Marty is essentially the same person at the end as at the beginning, but his parents – George and Lorraine McFly – have become very different people.

The transformation of a character can be extreme, moving to an opposite position, or the character can simply move to a moderate position. For instance, a rigid character may have a complete transformation, becoming a spontaneous, life-of-the party person by the end of the film, or s/he may retain a sense of discipline but might loosen up. We might sketch a transformational arc like this: