Scene dynamics: the balance of power

Else­where on this site, a scene has been defined as a struc­tural unit within a drama, an arc of change that is gener­ally driven or propelled by a char­acter – or, more precisely, by a character’s agenda; the goal that a char­acter is pursuing. As a descrip­tion, this is more or less accurate but it doesn’t really convey why some scenes are so much more compel­ling than others.

The answer some­times lies not so much with the scale of the drama but with the writer’s gift for human obser­va­tion, partic­u­larly at an anthro­po­lo­gical level. Scient­ists have long claimed that there exists an anim­al­istic base-line to most human inter­ac­tion; that we are, at heart, not that much different from other species that organise them­selves into packs or herds, even if our methods of inter­ac­tion are much more soph­ist­ic­ated and complicated.

We have our own ‘pecking order’ and our own pack leaders, and every social engage­ment between us involves a conscious or uncon­scious testing of each other to estab­lish a hier­arch­ical rela­tion­ship. Keith John­stone in his ground­breaking book Impro gives a name to this: ‘status’.  The beha­viour of human beings together, he claims, involves an endless adjust­ment of status  – it is some­thing that we do, rather than some­thing that is fixed – and we do it mostly to get what we want.

Status adjust­ments are power adjust­ments. We make them phys­ic­ally, verbally and psycho­lo­gic­ally in order to dominate or accom­modate. Status-wise we are all chameleons – you only need to watch people in a social gath­ering to see the way we switch roles and adjust to other’s status levels. (Fascin­at­ingly, adopting a ‘high’ or ‘dominant’ status is not always the most effective method of getting your own way – wheed­ling or cajoling from a ‘low’ posi­tion of power can work just as well or even better.)

The secret struggle

The concept of status, and of a hidden ‘power struggle’ taking place, can be a useful way of height­ening the dynamic range of a scene. Thinking of inter­ac­tions as being, at some level, ‘moves in a game’ adds another dimen­sion to them and helps to bring out the purposeful aspect of char­acter that Aris­totle sees as so important.

The game, of course, doesn’t always have to be combative or confront­a­tional. In these examples below, the scenes all end with a radical shift or redis­tri­bu­tion of power – some­times that is bitter but it can also some­times be joyful, as in these classic seduc­tion scenes. Struggle can have positive as well as negative outcomes.

Over­throw

Getting Hurt 1998

Written by Andrew Davies and based on his own novel, directed by Ben Bolt, with Ciaran Hinds, Helen Cross. Prob­ably the most conven­tional break up in this selec­tion of scenes. It is between two char­ac­ters who are both basic­ally well-intentioned and so the pain comes from the unex­pec­ted­ness of the news and the clum­si­ness of its delivery. Its delib­er­ately under­stated quality makes it both recog­nis­able and raw.

The Secret Rapture 1993

Written by David Hare, based on his stage play; directed by Howard Davies, with Juliet Stevenson, Neil Pearson, Joanne Whalley. One char­acter is completely immov­able in this scene and madden­ingly reas­on­able at the same time. Hare gives her some wonderful lines and makes the tragic conclu­sion almost believable.

Oleanna 1994

In this screen adapt­a­tion of David Mamet’s play, an intel­lec­tu­ally compla­cent lecturer is accused by a student of making inde­cent advances. The struggle for ascend­ancy is very much out in the open here but Mamet’s skill is in making the shift in the balance of power happen in a ‘small’ and subtle moment. This shows great craft and is a hall­mark of Mamet’s writing.

After­math

Let’s Murder Vivaldi 1969

Written by David Mercer, directed by Alan Bridges, with Denholm Elliot and Gwen Watford. Emotional viol­ence is far more deadly than its phys­ical equi­valent – that is what Mercer sets out to demon­strate in this deft black comedy. The English­ness of the couple is also a deli­cious ingredient, they apolo­gise for their cruelty.

Damage 1992

Written by David Hare, directed by Louis Malle, with Jeremy Irons and Miranda Richardson. More memor­able dialogue here from Hare in this scene about a marriage in ruins but also some great obser­va­tion of the inev­it­able bathos when a rela­tion­ship is really over.

Seduc­tion

Closely Observed Trains 1966

Written by Jiri Menzel and Bohumil Hrabal, directed by Jiri Menzel with Josef Somr. Menzel has a truly charming and inno­cent way of symbol­ising sexual seduc­tion. In I Served The King Of England he uses fruit, here it is office equip­ment. In his world, all women are compliant and mischev­ious and all men are grown boys. Refresh­ingly non-PC? It depends on how you see it.

The Cocoa Cola Kid 1985

Written by Frank Moor­house, directed by Dusan Makavejev with Eric Roberts, Greta Scacchi. Down to earth Aussie girl seduces up-tight corporate Yank with a playful game. Possibly the sexiest Santa Claus ever committed to celluloid.