WWTBD? The Magic of Reversals

What Would the Boss Do? Use Contrast (like Springsteen does) to Turn your Story

OPPOSITES REACT

In the early ’90s when Bruce Springsteen was with that “other” band, he wrote a beautiful song about his newborn son called “Living Proof.” He described him as “a little piece of the Lord’s undying light” and then juxtaposed it with “Crying like he swallowed the fiery moon.” Here are the next two lines:

In his mother’s arms it was all the beauty I could take

Like the missing words to some prayer that I could never make

A prayer that he could never make. Funny, I always thought he did write that prayer a few years later on The Ghost of Tom Joad album, in the song “Across the Border.”

The Joad album has a plethora of songs about immigrants and people migrating out of desperation or hope to find a place to call home. “Across the Border,” the final song on the album, starts with the singer/narrator’s bag packed; he is ready to leave the “the pain and sadness we found here.” His physical journey takes him out on the road, which begins with the simple wish to drink from the Rio Bravo’s muddy waters; that is, across the border. The song culminates with the “across the border” that is transcends any earthly location: For what are we Without hope in our hearts That someday we’ll drink from God’s blessed waters

And eat the fruit from the vine I know love and fortune will be mine Somewhere across the border

Even without the allusion to religion, the song offers hope for everyone’s journey — to home, to a new home, to a new country, or to a new “home” in the great beyond. The song’s eternal optimism is amazing. It is one of the most optimistic and beautiful moments in Bruce’s entire oeuvre, and it creates the climax of an album. (Note to Gen Z and younger Gen Y: A long time ago there was a thing called an album. Musicians would sequence their songs with the purpose of creating a short story-like experience. And listeners had the attention span to, well, listen to all the songs.)

However, the ultimate power of the moment in the album is enhanced or created by its placement right next to maybe the darkest moment of this or any Bruce album. Like the match cut in 2001: A Space Odyssey from the weaponized bone to the spaceship is the widest gap in time between any two shots in the history of cinema, the silent seconds before “Across the Border” starts and the end of the previous song create perhaps the biggest gap of all his albums between desperation and hope.

This line from Hungry Heart raises its hand to compete …

(I met her in a Kingstown bar)

We fell in love, I knew it had to end

What is the dark moment that precedes “Across the Border” and throws its grace and beauty into such sharp relief?

The song is called “The New Timer.” In it, a young man leaves his family to look for seasonal work across the country. He meets a friend on the road who shows him the ropes. He imagines his family at night but never gets a chance to go back. He splits up with his friend and only sees him again briefly in a passing freight train’s grain car: “He shouted my name, disappeared into the rain and wind.” His friend ends up murdered for no reason. One wintry night, the main character makes his camp and sits alone with his machete by his side. He is overcome with the disturbing thought that ends the song and leads us into “Across the Border”: My Jesus your gracious love and mercy Tonight, I’m sorry could not fill my heart Like one good rifle And the name of who I ought to kill Yikes. The choice to buttress this stark and dark moment with “Across the Border” is masterful storytelling. This principle of opposites drives a lot of great art and narrative. It’s why you have a calm stillness before your climax. It’s the basis of character orchestration. It’s how you make a scene full of hate resonate with love. It’s the principle behind sequences.

This is why a romance (love story) must, in some way, deal with loss or loneliness. It’s why capturing the serial killer at the end of Act II in Se7en should scare the crap out of you. And it’s why Pedro Almodovar’s Broken Embraces has a newly blind director, who carefully navigates walking down a flight of stairs, shares the frame with a young boy who effortlessly bounces down them.

I wrote the only screenwriting book focusing on scene writing. One of the most helpful and innovative parts is Chapter 2. In that section, I talk about the essence of surprise and the nitty gritty craft of how to make the strongest reversals. If you are a commercial director, songwriter, short film/story writer, or a comedian, it will be extra helpful. Check out The Craft of Scene Writing.

The absence of something makes us yearn for it more. The opposite of a thing makes us ponder the essence of the thing. The sudden zig in an opposite direction makes the ultimate zag resonate more. The contrast and twist before the climax of a scene or story helps to accentuate it.

If you’re a screenwriter, sign up for my free screenwriting talks. Or check out my coaching site to explore working together.