The WFTS Podcast has been running since the end of October and we’ve enjoyed thousands of listens and loads of great feedback from our readers.
Series 1 has focused on the 3-act structure. We’ve offered in-depth session breaking down the 3–act structure act by act, and found examples that exemplify the elements of structure in theatre and film.
Towards the end of this series, we’ve put together an in-depth 3-act analysis of the 1989 film, When Harry Met Sally. We’ve transcribed it for you here.
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Episode 7 - When Harry Met Sally - Act 1 and The Rising Action.
Thanks for tuning in again to the WFTS Podcast.
Over the past 6 episodes, we’ve explored how the 3-act structure materialises in stage plays, with some passing reference to how it works in the movies, so I thought that I’d dedicate an episode to how the 3-act structure relates to film. We’ve talked a lot about how the 3-act structure relates to drama, but haven’t really explored (other than through GOTH) how it relates to comedy.
So, as it’s coming up to Xmas, and it’s my favourite movie of all time, I thought I’d explore how the 3-act structure relates to the 1989 movie, When Harry Met Sally. The screenplay was written by Nora Ephron and the movie was directed by Rob Reiner. It was a game-changing, genre defining piece of movie making. Love or hate a rom com - this is the original and best.
Whilst researching for this episode, I obviously watched the film again (twice) - the first time because it’s my ritual for around this time of year to get me into the Xmas spirit, the second time to affirm the elements of structure that I couldn’t help but take not of the first time.
This is my analysis of the film - it might not necessarily be everyone’s take on it - but I think it sits comfortably enough within the construct of the 3 acts as defined by the previous 6 episodes of the WFTS Podcast.
Although we’re talking about film, here, they are still plenty of ideas in this episode that will serve to help playwrights - so don’t panic. We explore the role of the central character, which we haven’t looked at yet, as well as methods that bring the reality of the 3-act structure to life. The script to When Harry Met Sally is quite unique in screenplay writing in that comprises of a sequence of very long scenes (for the screen), rather than relying on the quick-cut action more typically found in film. The script should lend itself to the stage (although we’ll be exploring the critically panned, 2004 adaptation starring Luke Perry and Alyson Hannigan, at London’s Theatre Royal Haymarket later on)
There are three clear acts in this film - but what’s most interesting is how they’re used. We’ll discover that Act 1 is long, while the rising action of Act 2 is unusually short; the opening of the act is propelled by a montage and the entirety of the rising action takes place in just over 10 mins of screen time.
There’s a school of thought that says that Act 1 should achieve its mandatory aims (of establishing POTW, character, objective, and inciting incident) in the most succinct of ways - with a running length of around 20-30mins. But Act 1 of WHMS - you could say - is a mini movie in its own right - with a distinct beginning, middle, and end - taking its time to reach the inciting incident. Through constant comic tension, this clever construct shows real confidence in the characters, the world of the story and the complexity of relationships.
WHMS is a classic romantic comedy - a story of triumph through adversity. A road trip, a passage through 1980s Boho New York, of friendship, of letting go, and of finding the one true love.
Let’s start off by making a decision about who the protagonist is. Obviously, you could say that there are two protagonists - Harry and Sally. But we really have to examine the entirety of the story to properly identify the roles.
What we haven’t really talked about is the role of the central character. We’ve talked about the protagonist and the antagonist, but we’ve never really mentioned the central character. In GOTH, Simon is the central character, while Pete is the protagonist, and Tom is the antagonist.
The central character is the character that the story pivots around - they’re sometimes referred to as the “agent for change”, but they don’t necessarily change themselves as a result of the action of the story. They can, of course, change, but the change won’t have been as significant for them.
Let’s examine the closing scene. At the start of the movie, Harry is an unshakeable pessimist - aloof, rigid, indifferent. But he’s also witty and insightful - perhaps what we might today describe as “woke”. He claims to have a dark side, but is really just a guy chasing his tail, jumping into bed with every woman who will say yes. But his true belief (as we discover through the action of the story) is that relationships are doomed to fail - so why even try.
Sally - in the opening scene, comes across as a little uptight, but the eternal optimist, a decision maker - and, perhaps, this is her problem - she’s very quick to make decisions and is too steadfast once she makes them - a trait that we see more of later in the story.
Harry snogs Amanda as Sally waits for him in the car, waiting for them both to travel from Chicago to New York - and she beeps the horn - snapping Harry and Amanda out of their lovelock. Sally is practical, down-to-earth, and driven. When she orders food from the diner in Act1, she insists on condiments being left on the side or not included if the pie isn’t hot. She’s very specific, knows her own mind, and wants what she wants. Perhaps you could say that she’s, too, a little rigid. She’s driving to New York so that her life can start. Although it’s never made explicit, you know that she has a plan about how life is going to work out.
So - cut to the closing speech -
So, Harry has changed. He’s gone from a point of utter pessimism and a sense that all relationships are doomed - to settled, happy, and flexible, with a positive outlook of the world. The Problem Of The World for Harry at the beginning of the story is his naive and unusually faithful belief in his own extremely bleak view of the world with no give.
Whereas Sally is pretty much the same the total opposite - the eternal optimist. She’s perhaps not quite so rigid at the end of the film, but she still likes things her way - on the side.
The fact that Sally can hold her own is why they clash. In fact, Sally kind of gets things her way in the end.
So, it’s Harry who really goes on the journey in this film - and, he, therefore is the protagonist.
Which begs the question - who is the antagonist? This movie is, essentially a 4-hander between Harry, played by Billy Crystal; Sally, played by Meg Ryan; Marie, played by Carrie Fisher; and Jess - Harry’s best friend, played by Bruno Kirby.
Marie and Jess really embody the subplot, as they don’t enter the story until the very end of Act 1, coming into their own in Act 2. Of course, there are other supporting characters - Joe, Alice, Amanda, Helen - but in the stageplay version, they would never be seen and just mentioned. They’re central to the action, but the action would remain the same with just a mention.
In this movie, you could say that Harry is both the protagonist and the antagonist - his world-view is what is holding him back. The fact that he’s out the door the second he wakes up next to his previous night’s conquest is his demon. You could say that Sally, equally, has a similar antagonism in herself - if only she’d let herself loose for a while, she might allow herself to be happy.
Harry and Sally antagonise each other - and, in this rare context, that’s enough to drive the action of the story. So, being neither specifically defined as the antagonist or the protagonist, Sally becomes the central character - the agent for change - as she become the reason that Harry, finally, faces his demons and overcomes the POTW that has been holding him back from his ultimate happiness.
There are little vignette interviews from ageing couples, discussing the moment they fell in love that reinforce the theme throughout the story and used to indicate the passing of time in this film. While charming and a clever device to separate the “chapters” of the story, we won’t be analysing those - there’s plenty more to explore.
Act one opens with The First Meeting - first sight of our heroes in 1977. It’s the last day of college, and they’re both moving on from the University of Chicago to New York to start anew. But it’s how they’re moving on that’s particularly telling.
Harry is kissing Amanda and in no rush to get started on the journey. Sally clears her throat to get their attention, and eventually beeps the car horn to indicate that she’s being serious. She wants to go. This is part of her practical side - she demonstrates no real attachment or sadness for leaving the place she has spent the last 3 years: it was a functional necessity of her life and she wants to move onto the next chapter.
So, while Harry is in no rush to move on, Sally is chomping at the bit to get going - both very telling actions, illustrating the dominant characteristics of both characters; immediately setting up the tensions for what is to drive the entire movie. This opening scene - let’s call it sc1, is uncharacteristically short for this movie - at just a minute or two in duration. But we’ve successfully and succinctly established the tension that is going to sustain the entirety of the story.
We pull off into scene 2 - the journey begins. Sally has it all figured out - proudly list the itinary for the journey, complete with the optimum locations to swap driving duties. However, Harry eats grapes and gobs the seeds out of the window - beautifully punctuating the flow of the conversation - hilariously spitting onto the inside of the window.
Harry wants to know the story of Sally’s life - characteristically intense. Suppose nothing happens to you and you die a NY death that no-one notices until the smell drifts down the hall, he says.
The shot cuts to the exterior of the car, but we’re still, constructively, within the same scene. Amanda mentioned you have a dark side, says Sally - an accusation he indulges in, belittling Sally for being simplistic and too happy-go-lucky to even notice life. When I buy a new book I read the last page in case I die before the book ends - that, my friend, is a dark side, he proudly proclaims.
He’s intense, grumpy, and not particularly easy to get on with - and we feel Sally’s dread that she’s about to spend 18 hours in the car with this man.
Crucially, Sally can hold her own - and this defines their relationship throughout the film. In the meantime, you’re going to ruin your entire life waiting for death, she states. Punctuating by Harry spitting a grape pip out of the window.
Into Scene 3 - The Diner. The scene begins, mid-argument in the car. Sally states that she wouldn’t want to stay with Bogart in Casablanca, married to a guy who runs a bar when she could be the countess of Czechoslavakia. This is defining dialogue for Sally, because that opinion changes later on in the film, showing how she has developed as a character.
The argument drifts into the diner, but not before Harry has accused Sally of never having had great sex yet. Furied, Sally follows him into the diner, announcing at the top of her voice that she has had lots of great sex - much to her humiliation, as she realises that the room has gone silent. Her reaction is to shrink and find her seat - very telling of her uptight ways and a nod and a unity with one of the most famous scenes of the film that happens during the Rising Action of Act 2, where she fakes an orgasm in the NY diner.
This initial diner scene is full of comic tension, while Harry consistently winds Sally up, and we discover her unique way of ordering her food. It looks like they might get on ok, until Harry comes onto Sally - which she rejects in disgust.
Scene 4 sees Harry explaining that men and women can never be friends - the sex part always gets in the way. This introduces the central question of the film and the thematic conflict which drives the dramatic content of the story, paying off later on in Act 2, and finally resolving in Act 3. Everything that’s happening here is with purpose - everything comes back later in the story. There’s a real hollistic unity to the dialogue because it’s never just idle chit-chat - there’s ALWAYS conflict and that conflict tells us so much about the characters whilst setting up the action that pays off later on in the story.
The scene ends in New York - the journey is over. They agree that they’ll never be friends, ending with Sally stating - “it’s too bad. You were the only person I knew in New York,” perfectly making use of past-tense in a present-tense setting. The first goodbye, and the theme, or the central question, is established - can heterosexual men and women ever really just be friends?
But, hang on - this isn’t the end of Act 1 - nowhere near. C
Scene 5 is five years later. Sally is kissing Joe goodbye at the airport and Harry spots Joe - they used to be room-mates when Harry first moved to New York. There’s have an awkward interaction while both H & S recognise each other, but pretend not to know each other. Sally is relieved when he leaves - she says that she can’t recall his name (but, of course, she can!). She tells Joe that they’d had this night together five years previously. Joe is immediately suspicious - showing that he knows just what Harry is like. Sally recalls that Harry stated that men and women can’t be friends - it still jars with her.
Scene 6 is The Flight, where Harry forces himself into Sally’s neighbouring seat. He announces that he’s getting married - something that Sally finds impossible to believe. Harry disturbs Sally somewhat with his dark insight that men want to leave the nuptial bed the very second the sex finishes, whereas Sally wants to be held all night, passively aggressively suggesting that Sally has a problem. This reminds Sally why they’re never going to be friends.
This scene is great fun - but shows us that although Harry appears to have moved on, the old pessimism - the POTW - is still there - loud and clear.
We jump to scene 7 on the Moving Sidewalk. Harry asks Sally out to dinner and Sally reminds him of his prior proclamation that men and women can’t be friends. They part company, hoping to never meet again. There’s a lovely moment of cinematography, where Harry eventually agrees to stop walking and the camera follows Sally, allowing Harry to drift into the background - hopefully, she thinks, forever.
(8) After this briefer chapter 2, we jump five years on to chapter 3 - moving more briskly towards the climax of Act 1. Sally has just split with Joe - but in her typically practical way - she states to her two girlfriends that she’s fine with it. She wanted a family and Joe didn’t, so they parted. It was a mutual, adult decision.
We meet Marie for the first time. In contrast with the oddly together Sally, Marie is a desperate singleton and serial adulterer, determined above all else to finally walk down the aisle. Although we’re being introduced to new characters here, we’re still in Act 1 territory, because the inciting incident that propels the dramatic thrust of the story hasn’t happened yet.
Marie goes through her creepy Rolodex to attempt to set Sally up with Alex Anderson who is entirely inappropriate. They’ve hit their thirties, and Marie suggests that Sally finds someone to marry quickly before someone else marries her husband.
Cut to the ball game with Harry and Jess - Harry’s best friend. Harry is going to get a divorce from Helen, ultimately reinforcing the POTW that all relationships are doomed. This is why we’re still, over half an hour later, still in Act 1. He tells Jess of Helen’s cold departure, leaving him for Ira.
We discover Jess is a geekier, humourless but lovable, more matter-of-fact version of Harry and he tries to reassure Harry that he understands the subtext of Helen’s actions, all during the wonderful punctuation of inappropriately timed Mexican waves.
Harry feels that his previous caution in life was correct, and that he was wrong to let himself be vulnerable by entering into a meaningful relationship. He’s hit his low-point, is vulnerable, and broken.
We cut to Sally and Marie in a bookshop, while Harry lurks in the Personal Growth section - an irony that’s not lost within the unity of the POTW. Harry and Sally meet again. This time they’ve both lost a little of their initial astringency. Both battered and broken a little by life, they see something in each other that they never saw before.
They have lunch, and discover that they can talk to each other openly without worrying about whether the other is judging them. The inciting incident finally takes place in the park - where Sally asks Harry if he would like to go out for dinner with her. And he agrees - realising that she’s the first attractive women he’s ever met that he hasn’t wanted to go to bed with. The decision for Harry to go out for dinner on a purely platonic basis is the inciting incident - because the first real challenge to the central question - can men and women ever be friends?
And so we have a 34-minute Act 1 - uncharacteristically long, followed by an uncharacteristically short Rising Action of Act 2 which really just lasts for the next 10-minutes of the film.
So, we have a mini-journey to open the grander journey. Significantly, there’s been a distinct beginning, middle, and an end already - giving this story a bit more weight and complexity than your average boy meets girl, falls in love, happy ending construct. You could say - potentially - that within Act 1, there’s the character arc often recognised within the entirety of the 3-act structure - but maybe that’s pushing it a little.
But through the action of Act 1 both characters have changed - they’ve both lost some of the edge that caused them to conflict in the opening, giving way into a gentler, happy climax to the rising action.
The inciting incident gives way to Harry’s objective - to become true friends with a woman without falling in love with her - and to get over Helen - but this, as an objective bleeds us into the falling action - more about that next time.
Act 2 sees Harry and Sally become friends and, crucially, more and more important to each other. They both have the grief of loss to deal with, although Sally seems to have dealt with it rather too quickly and efficiently. Of course, that’s Sally’s unemotional practicality coming back to haunt her. All the while, Harry plunges into despair. This is all presented and shown economically via a montage, propelling some necessary exposition to get us to the next plot point.
They watch the closing sequence of Casablanca from their singleton beds. Sally claims that she would have stayed with Bogart - in contrast to the diner conversation earlier - demonstrating the development of her character.
We hear Bogart say “this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship” - the screenwriter marbling a little theme into her narrative.
We next see them at the museum. All is going well - their friendship is solidified - but the problem is that they, to the outside world, look like lovers on a day out. Let’s go back to the Problem Of The World here - Harry’s pessimistic view of the world - as reinforced by Helen’s infidelity. He’s at his most vulnerable, and further put to the test in this scene as Sally announces that she has a date. This is a real turning point in the story, challenging the idea that they might be becoming more than just friends. It’s awkward, but they get through it. But when Sally suggests that Harry should return to the dating field, he steadfastly denies that he’s ready.
We jump to Harry’s apartment. During the opening montage of Act 2 we see Harry sitting in an empty flat, demonstrating the void in his life left by Helen’s departure. But this time, he and Sally are rolling out a carpet - metaphorically redressing his life.
They talk about their nightmare dates - Sally’s resulted in her date leaning over, pulling a strand of hair from her hair and flossing with it.
Harry’s date ended in a massive anxiety attack as he finds some vague link between the woman he’s dating and Helen.
Sally summises that this is going to take longer than they thought. And maybe eventually, they’ll find it in themselves to go to bed with someone.
But Harry had sex with his date. This highlights the differences in Harry and Sally - provoding a little comedic nod to what destroys their friendship later on.
Propelled by the confidence they’ve given each other, they go on more dates (behind the scenes) and meet at the diner, for the infamous orgasm scene.
Harry divulges to Sally that, after sex, he invents an excuse and makes a swifty exit - reinforcing what he said earlier during the scene on the airplane which disgusted her then, and disgusts her now. This is central to Harry’s pessimism and indicative that he hasn’t changed at all from the pessimistic cynic at the beginning of the story. The POTW persists.
Sally is so disappointed and angered by Harry’s cold treatment of the women he sleeps with that she pronounces “I’m so glad I never got involved with you.”
Although they’re in conflict, this is all still good, clean, comic fun.
Harry counters that the women he sleeps with have a bloody good time. But Sally isn’t so convinced. In fact, she’s so unconvinced that she shows Harry exactly how he can never tell whether those women are being honest in their response to his love-making.
She loudly and outrageously fakes an orgasm in the middle of the crowded diner (a piece of movie magic), to demonstrate that all women have faked it at some stage.
Crucually, this scene also demonstrates Sally’s growth from the uptight prude who accidentally announces to the diner in Act 1 that she’s had plenty of great sex, to the strong, confident woman with understanding of the world around her.
It’s New Year’s Eve and Harry and Sally are dancing together at a big New York party. They’re both without dates, and they promise to always be each other’s back-up for NYE.
All in the world is great (apart from the POTW and the fact that Harry is still heart-broken).
At midnight they exchange an awkward kiss.
But is this kiss truly platonic?
So we get to the midpoint - where Harry has met his objective - to have a female friend that he doesn’t want to sleep with. But the comfort is immediately jeopardised.
Episode 9 - When Harry Met Sally - The Falling Action and Act 3
Thanks for tuning in again to the WFTS Podcast. This week we’re going to be analysing the second half of our study movie - When Harry Met Sally. We’re going to explore the falling action of Act 2 where the protagonist goes from triumph to despair, and the new tension and twist that helps our protagonist seek out a resolution to the POTW by addressing their emotional need in Act 3.
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The Rising action of WHMS is interesting, because this is the real meat of the story. It’s where the theme - can men and women really be friends - gets tested. Like with our unusually long Act 1, structural norms are tested here, because, conventionally, the rising action is usually the meatiest part of a story - fraught with conflict, complication and antagonism as the protagonist pursues the objective crystallised through the inciting incident of Act 1. However - in this movie - the rising action, you could say, is simply functional and with just over 10 minutes of screen time, is probably the part of the story with the least dramatic conflict and the character’s objective, after the conflicts of Act 1, is quite easily achieved.
But in this film, Harry and Sally’s relationship really gets put to the test in the falling action - the second half of Act 2, after the protagonist has got what they wanted.
I guess that this is a great example of a writer being totally at ease with structure, and resultantly, having the confidence to mould the narrative to satisfy the journey of the characters, rather than comply blindly to “the rules”.
The rising action saw H & S become friends. And this was an essential action to test the theme. But now we’re going to see it really go under the microscope.
Harry’s objective to find a female friend went well, and almost without complication, reversal, and obstacle so commonly brought into the rising action to create tension. The rising action in WHMS is just a function of the story and Harry meets his objective as quickly as possible without being dismissive. But the truly interesting part of Harry’s journey is how he’s challenge by the theme and the ever-looming problem of the world - that men and women can’t be friends without the sex part getting in the way. A large part of the POTW is Harry’s emotional detachment - his prophecy that all relationships are doomed before they start. Harry needs to, somehow, overcome his eternal and steadfast pessimism, and, until he’s overcome this inner demon, he’s going to fail to find happiness and completion.
So, Harry, having achieved his objective, finds himself in emotional need territory. The falling action traditionally challenges the protagonist in a much deeper way than throughout the rising action. The rising action is a time of hope and determination, whereas the falling action is often a more trepidatious route. The falling action is where things get really interesting and challenging and where the protagonist is forced to face facts - the objective didn’t solve the problem of the world, and now life seems a little bleaker. This is perhaps the reason why the rising action of this movie was just a passing function - because Harry and Sally becoming friends was a plot point - and the real challenge comes here.
We open into the Falling Action with the paying off of the subplot - Jess and Marie get together. The intention is for Harry to hit it off with Marie and for Sally to get together with Jess. But, of course, they discover that they have nothing in common and a particularly awkward dinner ensues, until Marie quotes from a magazine article she once read. She finds herself, inadvertently, quoting Jess. And the future is cemented.
Things start to move quick and we find Harry and Sally out shopping - choosing a moving-in gift for Jess and Marie - the subplot emerging from the background and into the fore. I haven’t really mentioned the subplot yet, but the falling action is traditionally the location of the timeline where the subplot pays off. The subplot is a secondary storyline that usually wouldn’t stand alone, but shows something of the protagonist’s exterior life that’s not satisfied by the central action of the story. Mostly, the subplot relates in some way to the protagonist’s need - in this case, Harry needs to find faith in love, just as Jess, his best friend, is about to. He needs to let go of the pessimism that has been his downfall so far. Although we’ve not seen his relationship with Helen, we suspect that his detachment was part of the problem. And this is where Helen finally appears in the story.
Harry and Sally are shopping and having a lovely time, singing along to Surrey With A Fringe On Top - again, another classic movie moment. In the midst of the fun, Harry spots Helen across the store, with Ira - Harry’s nemesis - the reason that Helen left him.
What we’re faced with is a sudden shift from the upbeat of the moment to the darker world of emotion - Harry is suddently thrust into facing his demons. This is a clever way of forcing the problem of the world to emerge - but - as life is - our demons arrive when we least expect it. After the encounter with Helen and Ira, Harry is broken - but with Sally on hand to lend some moral support. Without Sally, Harry would probably go and get drunk and shoot himself in the head to make it stop - but Sally’s practical nature forces him to face the truth.
Additionally, we see Sally hit her low in the falling action when she discovers that Joe is getting married - more about that in a bit. But this is Harry’s story - and his low (or the reverse climax) is coming in earnest.
We find ourselves at Jess and Marie’s new pad - and the wagon wheel coffee table becomes the big focus of debate. Jess argues that the terrible table is characterful, while Marie believes it to be terrible. This conflict performs as the perfect parallel to the world of Harry’s turmoil. We witness the tensions that made Harry and Sally tick as friends become the kernel of their undoing.
Harry, forced into the nest of Jess and Marie’s happy place, warns them in a strop that they’d better put their initials on everything because eventually they’ll pay for that awful wagon wheel coffee table when they’re head to head in the divorce courts. The POTW is alive and well and is looming to threaten to destroy everything all over again - Harry’s feeling that no relationship is worth investing anything more than a quick screw into. The tension is broken perfectly with a wise-crack from Marie, but we recognise that this is the first time we really see Harry in any state other than wise-guy.
This situation puts Harry and Sally’s friendship to the test for the first time, where Sally suggests that he’d better move to a new state because he’s slept with everyone in New York. They escape this challenge untainted, but we see how complicated things are becoming for them. They’re both unsure of how they feel about each other and neither wants to destroy the good thing that is their new-found friendship. So, through action and character, we see the central question starting to emerge to test the theme.
Momentarily back in the safety zone, we jump ahead of time and find our characters enjoying a game of Baby Fish Mouth with a group of friends at Jess and Marie’s funky New York apartment. Jess and Marie have become everything that both Sally and Harry have failed to become - settled. They show what a successful relationship looks like - heightened by the plain fact that both Harry and Sally are both in relationships, but are really pining after each other - again, threatening to reveal the truth behind the theme and the central question. They can’t be friends without feeling more - and there’s no way that this is going to get easier. We discover that both Harry and Sally dislike the other’s chosen partner and, resultantly, they place a big question mark about the potential for their friendship to flourish.
We finally see the crack in Sally’s pristine togetherness when she receives a call from her ex, Joe, informing her of his plans to marry his secretary, Kimberley, indicating the arrival of Sally’s long-awaited collapse over the death of that relationship.
Distraught, she calls Harry late at night in floods of tears. Harry rushes over to her apartment to provide moral support which quickly turns into a hug, which turns into a kiss, then a more meaningful kiss, then the inevitable - the ultimate outcome to the central question - that men and women can’t be friends with the sex part getting in the way. The inevitability makes this no less dangerous - because this is going to be the ultimate test of their friendship.
This could go both ways - it’s finally happened and it could be the beginning of a beautiful, and inevitable, romance.
We cut to a shot of Sally’s blissful smile, enjoying the comfort of the situation. For her, this is a natural progression - and this could work. But in direct juxtaposition, we see Harry - deep in thought - and we know what he’s thinking. True to form, Harry immediately feels the urge to flee - his post-coital anxiety is alive and well.
In Act 1 he described how women want to be held all night after sex, while all he really wants is to get the heck out of there. He projected his discomfort towards the situation into a problem in Sally - but, of course, we know that this is Harry problem. This is the ultimate embodiment of the problem of the world - wham, bam, thank you mam, and escaping the clutches of need before the bedsheets have even settled.
We’re heading towards Harry’s low-point - the reverse climax - where Harry’s inability to address his problem is his ultimate downfall. But along the way, he’s going to take Sally down with him - jeopardising their new-found friendship that’s come to mean more than he could possibly have predicted. This is the turning point of Act 2 - propelling Harry into a malaise that’s going to challenge the POTW and force his emotional need (the need to trust in fate, to emotionally connect with a lover and not run away) to the fore.
Marie and Jess receive simultaneous phone calls where they discover that Harry and Sally finally did it, but it didn’t work out. Marie confides in Jess after speaking to Sally - “tell me I’ll never have to be out there again” and he, reassures her with a hug and a kiss - “you’ll never have to be out there again”.
Jess and Marie’s subplot is paying off and entering into its fruition - we see what can happen when people let their guard down and find happiness in being settled; in direct contrast to the peril that’s just entered the stage in full force for Harry and Sally - but particularly for Harry.
Act 3 begins in earnest as Harry and Sally meet for lunch, hoping to avoid the elephant in the room. They chomp noisily on a hilariously crunchy dressed salad. The silence is palpably punctuated with the rabbit-like crunch of raw veg - perhaps a subtle nod to rabbits and their reputation for fornication. They both admit it was a mistake - neither wanting to be the first to say it and sealing the fate on their friendship.
This is not going to end well. Harry’s cringy morning departure has confirmed Sally’s worst fears, as explored in the second diner scene - that he’s out the door before the heartbeat has settled. Now Sally feels like the latest victim of Harry’s cold retreat.
They find themselves in a dilemma and they know that this isn’t going to work. The beginning of Act 3 is sometimes referred to as the New Tension and Twist - and the new tension for Harry and Sally looks as though it’s going to break them.
The subplot returns to bite when Harry and Sally meet each other (probably for the first time in months) at Jess and Marie’s wedding. In a previous scene we find Sally and Marie in a dress fitting for the wedding where they discuss Harry’s new partner - your basic nightmare - blond, pretty, big tits. We see Sally’s emotional response when Marie shows her the wedding dress - and wonder whether she’s partly crying for herself.
At the wedding, we have the cards on the table moment - Harry confronts Sally who - in true form - gives as good as she gets. Harry tries to patch things up, but in true Harry style - manages to confuse the matter with his odd perspective on the world - the POTW continuing to ruin things for him. The argument erupts and spills into the kitchen where they have a very public, private conversation - a masterstroke of tension. If you ever need to liven up a scene, get a private situation forced out into the public domain - alternatively, having a very public bust-up in front of good friends, is equally cringe-worthy and engaging from a dramatic or comedic perspective.
The confrontation climaxes with Sally, who can no longer contain her hostility and slaps Harry around the face. Jess announces to the entire room that if either he or Marie had found either Harry or Sally remotely attractive, they would never have ended up together. The final humiliation.
Back to Christmas, creating a wonderful circularity to the story. Last Christmas climaxed with Harry and Sally dancing together at the NYE party, stating that they’d always be each other’s back-up date. So, returning to Christmas helps to highlight how far away from that euphoric moment we’ve come - a commonly used device in tragedy, showing the good stuff to highlight what gets lost when things go awry. We see Sally struggling with a Christmas tree on her own (again, a reflective nod to the fun of the previous year as Harry and Sally pair up to carry the tree home. It’s time for another montage, as we see Harry moping around the house, leaving one humiliating phone message after another.
Eventually she answers the call and Harrry suggests that they should be each other’s NYE date, only to be rejected by Sally who proclaims that she’s not going to be his consolation prize.
So, the new tension and twist has been cleverly punctuated by reflections on the previous year, perfectly highlighting how things have gone wrong; demonstrating that this new tension between Harry and Sally is destroying our romantic heroes.
Cut to New Years Eve.
Harry is alone, trying to reassure himself that spending NYE on your own is fine. We cut to Sally at the big NYE party with Jess and Marie. Sally’s date is boring her to death - she’s absolutely not in the mood for this. Although she wouldn’t outwardly admit it, she’s also missing Harry - she’s compartmentalised Harry like she did with Joe, but - of course - we all know that those tensions have to emerge eventually. Sally tells Marie that she’s going home - and Marie reminds her that she’ll never get a taxi.
Harry has a flashback to the previous year and a sudden epiphany, and he decides he needs some fresh air. That need leads to a scene with just a little of a reflective nod to Dustin Hoffman running through the streets to break up the wedding in The Graduate. Harry runs through the streets to meet his destiny, just as Hoffman did in the closing climax of The Graduate - and we know that Harry’s finally going to do the right thing. But we don’t know for certain - although we suspect it - that this will work out.
He finally arrives at the party and spots Sally across the room - of course he does. We witness the final confrontation and Harry finally reveals that he loves Sally for the little things with a masterful piece of actively convincing dialogue. His pleas to be listened to finally find traction, and Sally realises that this cold, arrogant arse who dumped her in a moment of need actually understands her. He understands her high-maintenance quirks, he loves her little facial ticks, he loves that she orders her food her way. He loves that she is herself - something that Harry has always struggled to find in himself - and he proclaims in true romantic climax that he wants the rest of his life to start now - and he wants the rest of his life to mean that they spend the rest of their lives together.
And that’s it - he wins her round - reluctantly she falls into his arms.
Harry has defeated the demons that threatened to destroy him - he’s finally known a woman as a friend, and has - at last - trusted himself to settle. He’s a changed man, confirmed by the final talking head scene where Harry and Sally talk about how they met, how they became friends and how they eventually fell in love.
So, there we have it - three acts that deliver an emotional journey of friendship, misunderstanding, and eventual triumph and a subplot that delivers the emotional drive of the main story. We discover characters that are crafted to conflict, while using quick-fire wit to make us love them and hope for a satisfying destiny for them. We have a central character who acts as the agent for change for our protagonist, and a protagonist who has to face his demons to finally overcome the problem of the world.
Regardless of film, stageplay, or novel, you’re likely to see this character arc. Listen back to this first series of the WFTS Podcast for pointers of what to look out for so that you can begin to recognise how your favourite pieces of fiction are constructed. Writing great work starts with recognising how work that you admire is put together, so we hope, at WriteForTheStage, that you’ve got some insight into how structure can help to keep a story engaging and dramatically satisfying.
Next week is the final episode of this series of the WFTS Podcast. We’ll be back with Stephen M Hornby for a very special Christmas edition, where we’ll be joined by actor, dramatic translator, and academic, Dr. Szilvi Naray-Davey. We’ll discuss how European theatre tackles structure, Christmas, and character - all over a backdrop of bubbly and mince pies.
Thank you so much for listening to the WFTS Podcast. We hope that you’ve found this first series valuable and will join us again when we return in 2019. We’d love it if you could give us 5 stars on iTunes - it helps other people to find us, and don’t forget share your thoughts about the podcast on social media, copying us into your messages. Follow us on Twitter and Instagram, or send us an email at podcast@writeforthestage.co.uk.
For more information about WriteForTheStage, our courses, our publications, our productions and to read our blog , go to WriteForTheStage.co.uk
In early March we’ll be hosting the second WFTS Greater Manchester Fringe Festival Development Conference - an opportunity for all to attend masterclasses with some of the North West’s most influential and experienced theatre practitioners, with an aim of raising quality for future Greater Manchester Fringe festivals. We’re going to be broadcasting live over the net and, for a nominal charge, you’ll be able to join in. Email us for more details.
