largely a “McGuffin,” a thing that sets the quest into motion, but has less meaning once achieved. And it’s an oft-told tale. From Greek myth we get not only the story of Jason, but also Homer’s
Odyssey;
from Chaucer, the
Canterbury Tales;
and from modern literature, James Joyce’s
Ulysses
and William Faulkner’s
As I Lay Dying.
This story tradition has carried over to movies, of course, and includes some journeys that may surprise you.
Whenever we screenwriters pitch a “road picture,” that story almost always falls into the GF category, but there are many types. A “Buddy Fleece” is often lighter in tone and includes
Planes, Trains and Automobiles; Road Trip;
and
Little Miss Sunshine;
while the “EpicFleece” is more like its Greek antecedent, as
Saving Private Ryan
and
Star Wars
show. There is also the “Solo Fleece,” where a single participant goes on the trip, as seen in
About Schmidt
and
Garden State
, and some biographical films where the road that is one’s life reveals the risk and reward of the passage, e.g.,
Capote
and
Ray.
And since there’s gold in that-there Golden Fleece, this category also includes “Sports Fleece” movies like
The Bad News Bears, Hoosiers
, and
Slap Shot
— where the gold is a trophy, and the “Caper Fleece” like
Ocean’s Eleven
— where the gold is an actual treasure kept in a locked room. In these, the team is a variety pack of oddballs who have characteristics the leader lacks, but needs to be whole, and to win.
What’s great about a Golden Fleece is the adventure of being away from home, the lift of participating in a team effort with meaning beyond just us. And what a good time at the movies when it’s done well!
Like Monster in the House, a Golden Fleece is about three essentials: (1) a “road,” (2) a “team,” and (3) a “prize.”
So let’s go “on the road” and take a look.
The “road” is that thing we venture out onto, going away from home and perhaps coming back, but it need not be actual blacktop. It can also be metaphor. The road can be someone’s life, a trip across oceans or across the street — so long as the meaning of that journey is life-changing. And as
The Lord of the Rings
and
Three Kings
prove, the road can cross whole universes, planetary systems, war zones, and dimensions of time and space.
The test of whether or not you are writing a Golden Fleece comes when you ask: Are my heroes going somewhere definite, and can I chart their journey? That demarcation can be seen in the rungs up the ladder of a “Sports Fleece,” for instance. Think of that stock shot in
Major League
as the Cleveland Indians climb out of the cellar, or in
Dodgeball: A True Underdog Story
when Vince Vaughn’s team of Average Joes start knocking off the competition — you can see that whatever path the heroes of these tales are on, these notches letus know how they’re progressing on the way to the prize. Whether the road is large, small, or imaginary, it’s how the heroes of these tales grow that makes the trip worth taking.
As far as the “team” goes, especially in a “Buddy Fleece” movie like
Planes, Trains and Automobiles
, the story is often about friendship, and whom one picks as one’s teammate(s) — or has thrust upon him — is almost as important as the prize itself, whether it’s one buddy or a lot of them. The hero in a typical Fleece is an underdog, or iconoclast, and his team often represents other qualities such as “heart” or “brains” or “soul” that will be integrated into the hero’s character by the end.
The hero is the centrifugal center of the team, and often the “dull” one. Of all the characters in filmdom, isn’t Luke Skywalker the dullest? But that’s why he needs to be surrounded by Han Solo, a walking shag rug named Chewbacca, and a couple of snarky droids — each with his own unique voice. Luke shares with Jason the thing that makes him a hero: He is
us
on our best, Type-A day —
Odyssey;
from Chaucer, the
Canterbury Tales;
and from modern literature, James Joyce’s
Ulysses
and William Faulkner’s
As I Lay Dying.
This story tradition has carried over to movies, of course, and includes some journeys that may surprise you.
Whenever we screenwriters pitch a “road picture,” that story almost always falls into the GF category, but there are many types. A “Buddy Fleece” is often lighter in tone and includes
Planes, Trains and Automobiles; Road Trip;
and
Little Miss Sunshine;
while the “EpicFleece” is more like its Greek antecedent, as
Saving Private Ryan
and
Star Wars
show. There is also the “Solo Fleece,” where a single participant goes on the trip, as seen in
About Schmidt
and
Garden State
, and some biographical films where the road that is one’s life reveals the risk and reward of the passage, e.g.,
Capote
and
Ray.
And since there’s gold in that-there Golden Fleece, this category also includes “Sports Fleece” movies like
The Bad News Bears, Hoosiers
, and
Slap Shot
— where the gold is a trophy, and the “Caper Fleece” like
Ocean’s Eleven
— where the gold is an actual treasure kept in a locked room. In these, the team is a variety pack of oddballs who have characteristics the leader lacks, but needs to be whole, and to win.
What’s great about a Golden Fleece is the adventure of being away from home, the lift of participating in a team effort with meaning beyond just us. And what a good time at the movies when it’s done well!
Like Monster in the House, a Golden Fleece is about three essentials: (1) a “road,” (2) a “team,” and (3) a “prize.”
So let’s go “on the road” and take a look.
The “road” is that thing we venture out onto, going away from home and perhaps coming back, but it need not be actual blacktop. It can also be metaphor. The road can be someone’s life, a trip across oceans or across the street — so long as the meaning of that journey is life-changing. And as
The Lord of the Rings
and
Three Kings
prove, the road can cross whole universes, planetary systems, war zones, and dimensions of time and space.
The test of whether or not you are writing a Golden Fleece comes when you ask: Are my heroes going somewhere definite, and can I chart their journey? That demarcation can be seen in the rungs up the ladder of a “Sports Fleece,” for instance. Think of that stock shot in
Major League
as the Cleveland Indians climb out of the cellar, or in
Dodgeball: A True Underdog Story
when Vince Vaughn’s team of Average Joes start knocking off the competition — you can see that whatever path the heroes of these tales are on, these notches letus know how they’re progressing on the way to the prize. Whether the road is large, small, or imaginary, it’s how the heroes of these tales grow that makes the trip worth taking.
As far as the “team” goes, especially in a “Buddy Fleece” movie like
Planes, Trains and Automobiles
, the story is often about friendship, and whom one picks as one’s teammate(s) — or has thrust upon him — is almost as important as the prize itself, whether it’s one buddy or a lot of them. The hero in a typical Fleece is an underdog, or iconoclast, and his team often represents other qualities such as “heart” or “brains” or “soul” that will be integrated into the hero’s character by the end.
The hero is the centrifugal center of the team, and often the “dull” one. Of all the characters in filmdom, isn’t Luke Skywalker the dullest? But that’s why he needs to be surrounded by Han Solo, a walking shag rug named Chewbacca, and a couple of snarky droids — each with his own unique voice. Luke shares with Jason the thing that makes him a hero: He is
us
on our best, Type-A day —
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