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In screenwriting there's a thing called "the dark night of the soul."
Though dramaturgical structure can vary by genre, a good 99% of every movie you've ever seen (and many novels) follows the widely acclaimed Three Act Structure. Act 1 introduces the central conflict. Act 2 shows the characters grappling with the conflict. Act 3 follows the final effort and climactic victory over the conflict.
But between Acts 2 and 3 is what writers refer to as the dark night of the soul (DNOS). In layman's terms, it's the "all is lost" moment. Maybe the hero overlooked something crucial. Maybe the warnings he's been ignoring finally catch up with him. He realizes he really can't do this, that he's not strong enough, not like he thought he was when he first set out on his adventure, so full of promise. He's lost sight of himself, lost his faith, and the vultures are circling. Dumbledore is dead, Maximus is imprisoned, Harvey Dent is Two Face. It's so over.
This is my favorite part of writing.
In writing, I live for the dark night of the soul, because in life, I live the dark night of the soul. The life of man upon earth is a warfare, and no one makes it up the mountainside unscathed. To see in our heroes the tension of broken humanity reaching for things beyond its mortal grasp is not only cathartic: it is absolutely necessary.
Because the bitter truth no one prepares you for is this: life is harder than it is happy. This is the case for many long stretches of years, for many people. Life can be good and still wracked with pain. We don't live in a Utopia. Sometimes everything really does just fall apart. Stories that show us heroes who have to contend with the reality of failure have been a guiding thread in the labyrinth of life for millions of audiences during their own dark nights of the soul.
We need to see heroes brought to the brink of despair. But contrary to the misanthropic, fatalist narrative of modern entertainment, we must never leave them there.
There's a scene in Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King that, without fail, moves me to tears every time. It's a scene both in the film and the book. It's not Sam carrying Frodo, it's not the Grey Havens goodbye. It's this one:
"Frodo groaned; but with a great effort of will he staggered up; and then he fell upon his knees again. He raised his eyes... to the dark slopes of Mount Doom towering above him, and then pitifully he began to crawl forward on his hands."
(Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King, "Chapter 6: Mount Doom")
This is a prime example of what quite possibly is my favorite theme in all of film and literature: the human will to survive, against all odds, even against all reason. Maybe because there have been times in my life where I just laid there, feeling utterly incapable of getting up under the weight of my burdens. For a hero it's unacceptable to stay down. So if you can't get up: then crawl, if that's what it takes. It doesn't matter how you finish the mission, but you finish it.
Now we come to the other part of the dark night of the soul, and that's the glimmer of new hope. The hero has his "dig down deep" moment, his "come to God" moment, his "it was inside you all along" moment. He wipes his face, dusts himself off, and regroups with a renewed verve for this age-old war with the old gods of despair and disappointment. We are so back.
People have asked us why we write such dark stories, tales that tackle suicide and cruelty and death. My long pondered response to that is this: In tenebris stellae. "In darkness, the stars." It means the darker the night, the more brilliantly the stars shine.
We can't fully appreciate a victory unless we fully understand what it would cost to lose. How much moreso do we glory in a triumph bought with blood? The lower the fall, the higher the ascension. It's not the victory, but the struggle, the beautiful fight, that rouses us to keep crawling with the last drop of our strength until our mission is consummated, until the Ring is destroyed, until the Shire is saved from the shadow of evil.
Real life is dark. But it doesn't stay that way forever. In tenebris stellae.
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A cowardly prince plans to shirk the crown by taking his own life – until he realizes that’s exactly what the gods want.
This dark fantasy story of political intrigue and strong friendships is set in a vibrant world full of history and mythology, whose plot is carried by a large cast of morally gray characters. It explores topics like suicide, sacrifice, and the value of suffering, balanced by gallows humor reminiscent of the film Amadeus.
"No man can escape his fate" – this much history makes clear. But perhaps they just weren’t running fast enough.