One of my interests is the dynamics of fiction. Even though I don’t get much of a chance to write fiction myself, the subject fascinates me, and I seem to have a knack for it. Friends sometimes consult me about plot problems in their own works of fiction and seem to be pleased with the solutions I propose.
It seems to me that there are two basic ways to kill a major character who is one of the good guys in a story.
The first method is the shock killing. This occurs when one has established the major character and unexpectedly whacks him a substantial distance before the end of the story. This is done to freak out and unsettle the audience. When done well, it makes the audience afraid by suddenly crushing out the hope that the character seemed to carry and makes them wonder how the surviving main characters will achieve their goals now that the great hope has been extinguished.
An example of a successful shock killing is the death of Scatman Caruther’s character in the movie version of The Shining. With creepy, evil stuff going on in the Overlook Hotel, the boy in the movie has telepathically summoned Scatman Caruthers, who represents the boy’s best chance to escape back to the world of sanity. Yet when Scatman takes an axe in the chest as soon as he arrives at the Hotel, this hope is ended forever, leaving the audience to wonder what will happen next. How will the boy ever survive?
Another example of a successful shock killing is the death of Qui-Gon Jinn toward the end of Star Wars I (as many flaws as that movie had overall, Qui-Gon’s death was effective).
The problem with the shock killing is that, if the character is too major and too beloved by the audience, it will alienate many of them. As a result, the shock killing is not used that much as it is rather hard to pull off.
More common is what may be called the climactic death This occurs when the death of the major character occurs at the climax (or a climax) of the story.
For the climactic death to work, a number of factors have to be in place. The death needs to seem inevitable, emotionally weighty, and meaningful. If these conditions are not met, the audience feels cheated, with the death seeming arbitrary (non-inevitable) and frivolous (non-emotionally weighty or meaningless). From these requirements, several plot elements regarding the death tend to fall out:
- There has to be no other alternative to the death. Though the characters may seek other alternatives only to have them eliminated, in the end the audience must understand that there are no alternatives to the character’s death. Otherwise they will feel that the death was arbitrary.
- To make the death feel emotionally weighty, it must occur at the climax (or a climax) of the story.
- Also to keep the death emotionally weighty, it frequently must take time rather than happening in an instant.
- Since climaxes need to be seen coming a long way off, the audience generally needs to see the death coming in advance, with a building sense of doom as it approaches. (This is a distinguishing characteristic of the climactic death compared to the shock killing.)
- To make the character’s death seem meaningful to the audience there frequently needs to be a goal that he sacrifices his life to achieve, making his death a heroic sacrifice.
- Finally, between the usual needs to see the death coming in advance and for it to be a heroic sacrifice, the sequence of events that leads to the death usually needs to be closely tied to the main plot.
An example of a successful climactic death is that of Mr. Spock at the end of The Wrath of Kahn. Here all the elements are met: (1) Spock is the only one who can save the Enterprise, due to his unique physiology. (2) It occurs at the climax of the movie. (3) Spock doesn’t die immediately upon going into the radiation-filled chamber. His death takes time. (4) We see it coming in advance, particularly after all the talk of "The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few" and then seeing the Enterprise in a situation only Spock can save it from. (5) Spock heroically sacrifices himself in order to save his shipmates. And (6) the main plot of the movie (Kahn’s quest for revenge against Kirk) is what drives Spock to make this sacrifice.
The most spectacularly unsuccessful major character death that I can think of was the original death of Tasha Yar in Star Trek: The Next Generation. It violated all kinds of rules: It was an attempt to combine the shock killing with the climactic death, and it totally flopped. Tasha was walking along on an away mission in front of an evil creature, when suddenly the evil creature lashed out and killed her.
It didn’t happen at a climax (violating Rule 2). It happened way too quick (violating Rule 3). We didn’t see it coming in advance (violating Rule 4). It wasn’t a heroic sacrifice to achieve an important goal (violating Rule 5). It seemed arbitrary as the creature could have struck anyone or Tasha could have walked outside its reach (violating Rule 1). About the only rule that it might have obeyed was it was tied to the main plot (i.e., dealing with the evil creature).
The second deat of Tasha (going back in time to save the Federation from a crucial historical misstep) was much more satisfaying dramatically–and went far to redeem the first death (which the new episode confessed was "meaningless")–though in the end they welched on this and decided that Tasha survived her heroic sacrifice.
The most recent Star Trek attempt to kill a major character–Trip Tucker–also failed horribly.
This was a remarkably unsatisfying death. It was nowhere near as horrible as the first Tasha death (’cause it didn’t violate as many rules), but it was bad enough. Here’s why:
- The death managed to honor rules 1-3, and 5. It honored Rule 1 because the episode made it clear to us that in order to save Captain Archer there were no other (clear) alternatives. Further, the self-sacrifice occurred at a climax, satisfying Rule 2. And it took a while, so we got a "goodbye" scene in sick bay, satisfying Rule 3.
- Things get shaky with Rule 4: Whild we were told way in advance that Trip would die, we didn’t see the act of self-sacrifice until moments before he made it. Rule 4 was thus only satisfied in a pro forma way in that the audience was told what would happen but not in a plot-level way by letting the events themselves reveal what needed to happen.
- Rule 5 was completely bungled. Trip didn’t die saving the universe or even the Federation. His motivation for self-sacrifice was much murkier. It wasn’t an act of duty or friendship (though these may have played roles in it) but an apparent attempt to enable the Captain to keep his schedule in order to make an important speech–one that Trip had no good reason to think the future hinged on. This came across as totally stupid.
- Rule 6 was the most egregiously violated. There weren’t sinister anti-Federation forces trying to keep the Captain from making his oh-so-important speech. That would have (despite the implausibility of hinging all of history on a speech) at least tied the forces they were fighting into the goal that they were trying to achieve. Instead, the folks who drove Trip to self-sacrifice were passing, never-before-seen hoodlums who the Captain himself involved himself with and then honked off.
Listen, Star Trek guys: Next time y’all get a series (not any time soon) or a movie (probably ditto) and you wanna kill off a major character, please note the above list before you do so.
It’ll save y’all a lot of grief.
See also the following webpage about the “comic book rules of death” that determine whether any given character will stay dead or whether the death is merely a temporary inconvenience.
http://www.fortunecity.com/tatooine/niven/142/revolvin/rdd15.html
“This was a remarkably unsatisfying death.”
Your secret identity as leader of the Cthulhu cult based in El Cajon has been exposed. You should really try harder next time.
😉
Usually, Japanese dramas have satisfying deaths — satisfying dramatically, anyway. You do often have to worry about whether the character did to get dead was very sensible. But at least they work.
In this same vein:
One of the main reason that I find Michael Morcock a lousy author: of the two series of his that I’ve read (Elric, and the other one), both end with everyone — and I mean everyone — dying. OK, it’s a great way to wrap up lose plot ends, but boy is it sloppy.
Should I have said “spoiler warning”?
Look Jimmy, I can see you’re really upset about this. I honestly think you ought to sit down calmly, take a stress pill, and think things over.
No, seriously, I am not a Trek follower, so I don’t really have an opinion. All I know is, this must have been a truly ham fisted script to warrant two scathing posts back-to-back. The reference above recalls one of my favorite on-screen deaths in science fiction.
Shock killings also need Rule 3, often.
Not so much the death itself, which can happen in an instant. But if the story rushes on after it happens, it’s hard to be convinced. And by the time you are convinced that someone’s not coming back to life, you are too far from it to care.
Shock killings have to be well-developed enough to _shock_.
Another form of killing is the convincing one. To convince the readers that people really can be hurt and die in this universe.
The problem is that killing bit characters doesn’t convince us, and killing minor characters who were clearly created to die doesn’t convince us. . . . but people are reluctant to kill off major characters. As someone once sagely observed, in an epic fantasy, having a name consitutes better protection than a suit of plate mail.
I have long thought it was a major weakness in the first trilogy that named and real characters don’t die and stay dead.
Thinking back to the death of Kirk…
1. Nope.
2. Yep.
3. Nope.
4. Nope,
5. Maybe.
6. Maybe.
I knew it sucked… 🙂
Actually Tasha Yar’s death did ‘work’ because for one thing it taught the kids that death, especially in war, often is like that. Senseless.
Please forgive me for what I’m about to do.
He’s dead Jimmy.
Sorry….sorry……sorry……!
Could the original death of Tasha Yar have been brought about simply because they realized either one, the character wasn’t that great, two, the actress who played her didn’t act it very well if was acceptable, or three, the character wasn’t that great and the actress who played her didn’t act it that well?
I think that third option if most probable.
Perhaps you could comment on the converse of what you address in this post. That is, the “unsuccessfull non shock-killing”. Most heinous of all being the survival of Jar Jar Binks. Are we to believe that his annoyance through Episode I and to a lesser extent in Episode II had NO PURPOSE?
How could there be no senseless shock killing in Episode III to make the audience go, “Yeah I hated Jar Jar, but he didn’t deserve THAT!”
I agree with Young Fogey that Tasha Yar’s original death DID work — precisely because it didn’t follow “the rules.” It just happened — kind of like real life.
A non-red shirt being swallowed by an alien oil puddle is sort of the Trek equivalent of dying in a car crash, or slipping in the bathtub, or choking on a bit of roast beef. These things happen, without the fate of the universe being (apparently) involved.
I have to agree wholeheartedly that the shock killing of the Scatman Crothers character was a piece of genius on Kubrick’s part. He gets the audience all pumped up expecting Scatman to save the day: telepathic message to his vacation spot in Florida, flying into Denver on the last plane before the airport is closed by bad weather; fighting his way through a blizzard with a rented bulldozer; striding purposefully through the hotel lobby–only to have Jack Nicholson jump out and put an axe through Scatman’s forehead. (Or was it his chest, as Mr. Akin says? I remember the head, but my memory may be playing tricks on me after 25 years.)
The movie, by the way, was full of instances where Kubrick led the audience to expect one thing–then blindsided us with something else.
Only later, when I read the Stephen King book on which the movie was based, did I realize how really clever this scene was. It seems that, in King’s novel, the Scatman character really *does* save the day. So Kubrick had everyone who had read the book nodding their heads and saying, “Yeah, yeah, that’s right, go get ’em, Scatman,” and then yanked the rug out from under them, leaving them muttering, “WTF? That wasn’t supposed to happen.”
Well, I didn’t read the book but it seems to me that Scatman did indeed save them by the simple fact of having made it there because he provided the Snowcat that the wife and son escaped in. Heretofore they had no transportation. It’s kind of the same way that Mary is the co-redemptrix, she provided the necessary vessel of salvation.
I really hope that someday they will stop with the horribly overused – “Oh my gosh the hero went over the edge of the cliff and died – oh, I guess he is not dead.” Who even buys this anymore?
I love when people use the Obi Wan death. He’s dead but not really. It reminds me of the Monty Python Sketch “Bring out your dead” where I guy is trying to play someone off as dead buy isn’t quite yet already – but will be soon
If you guys want to talk about a good Scifi series gone bad. I have one word for you……ANDROMEDA!
What about Data’s death?
1 – maybe
2 – yes
3 – kinda
4 – yes
5 – yes
6 – yes
Data’s Death? Please. They are set up to bring Data back way better than they were Spock. Download a new “operating system” and Data’s last Memory Backup (from some level 3 diagnostic) and you’ve got him back with all his glory. It would take about 1 minute of dialogue for me to buy into him being back completely.
The ironic thing is that Spock’s death was originally conceived as a shock death and was only made into a climactic death after the idea leaked and the fans responded.
I have been reading a series of books by George R. R. Martin. This guy hasn’t a clue about what you’re talking about Jimmy. He has systematically established characters that you love and killed ever single one of them off in the most senseless (yet shocking) manners possible. For three books (THREE BOOKS!!!) he set up a character (eldest son of the first character you loved that he killed in the first book) only to slaughter him, his mother, all of his companions, and his entire stinking army!! because this guy apparently had to marry into this other family to have more help on the battle field in avenging his father’s death only to quite obviously be betrayed by that other family because they were selfish, greedy scumbags! This event left only an adoptive son from that family as a main character which I’m sure will be killed off somewhere in the middle of the next book.
ARRRRRGH!!! I hate you George R. R. Martin!!!
Anyways, killing off main characters properly is very important.
Let’s try Padme from EIII:
1)No. In fact, it defies logic to even accept her death.
2)No. (Unless you look at both trilogies together)
3)Not really, although it wasn’t sudden. The droid prepared us.
4)Yes. Although not for the reasons we were led to believe.
5)No. Quite the contrary, a death of despair.
6)No. Although one character is led to believe that it was.
“It really happens that way” is a weak, weak excuse. If we wanted the way things really happen, we’d read the obits. (Not the newstories, which go for the oddball deaths.)
Andromeda was ever good? I thought it was always hokey and mainly a vehicle to parade the lovely Lexa Doig before my adoring gaze.
I’m actually in favor of violating those killing rules with abandon. Well, you can’t do it too much or you’ll run out of characters. But one or two ‘senseless’ deaths and a couple of loose ends that never get tied up are a good way to keep the audience guessing.
Could the original death of Tasha Yar have been brought about simply because they realized either one, the character wasn’t that great, two, the actress who played her didn’t act it very well if was acceptable, or three, the character wasn’t that great and the actress who played her didn’t act it that well?
I think that third option if most probable.
Uh, how about four: She quit because she didn’t want to do six more years of the same thing? By the way, if you think that that the character of Tasha Yar was weak, you’re nuts. 😉
It was brought about because Denise Crosby, the actress who played her, wanted out of the show.
They then handled the death in an incompetent manner.
Lt. Worf was a much better security officer anyways. And the way they brought Tasha back as a Romulan was great.
Actually, I was pretty happy with Tasha Yar’s death. She was a drag character, the actress wasn’t very good and it gave Worf a chance to shine.
I think something may have been going on in Padmé’s death that George Lucas didn’t do a good job of showing. Although Palpy “promised” Anakin he would save Padmé, her survival would put a serious crimp in his plans. Anakin’s love for her would be a distraction and an impediment. So I think Palpy somehow used the Dark Side to destroy her will to live, thereby both eliminating her and adding an extra level to his control by making Anakin believe himself responsible for her death. That seems to be a reasonable explanation of how Palpy knew she was dead and was prepared with the “You killed her” remark.