Spoiler alert: this breakdown divulges information about the plot of the film.
Most critics say that Dawn of the Planet of the Apes is a better film than Rise of the Planet of the Apes (hereafter known as Dawn and Rise). I don’t agree. But what I find most interesting is how the story challenges the writers faced changed with this sequel. And the biggest decision the writers had to make in solving those challenges is what genre they would use as their primary form.
Rise was a transcendent horror story. Dawn is science fiction using the Western story structure. Rise modeled its plot on the first and greatest of all horror stories, Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein (click here to read my breakdown of Rise). This story of fathers and sons is not about creating life, but about creating a human being.
Science fiction is a much broader and looser form than horror. So it often combines with other genres that provide a tighter, more prescribed structure on which to build the grand superstructure of science fiction. Usually that other form is myth, because the best science fiction is about building a better world, and myth gives us the most epic path of growth of any genre.
Dawn shows the very first stages of apes taking over planet Earth. Not surprisingly, the writers chose to use the Western (America’s creation myth), because it lays out the beats for how two sharply different groups compete for the same space and resources as one group becomes dominant and creates a new nation.
Writers Mark Bomback, Rick Jaffa and Amanda Silver begin by establishing two distinct tribes. Both look on the opposing tribe as The Other. In the classic Western, the whites not only see the Indians as outsiders, but as less than human.
The two tribes here are different species. But given basic evolution and the fact that these apes have accelerated to the level of humans, the opposition between human and ape is no different than the visual opposition of white man/red man. Each sees the other tribe as fundamentally, biologically inferior. And that simply highlights the sense that these two tribes, while visually quite different, have the same flaw built into their species: anyone who is different must also be less.
The writers set up their character web using classic Western techniques. The leader of both tribes – Caesar for the apes and Malcolm for the humans – is somewhat enlightened. Both see the other tribe as fundamentally the same as they are, neither good nor evil. These enlightened characters want to find a way to live together in peace.
Each tribe also has at least one character, acting from fear or hatred, who wants to destroy the other tribe. Beginning with Carver for the humans and followed by Koba for the apes, these characters set in motion a downward cycle where the inevitable outcome is violence and eventually genocide.
Here we see the power of genre to express a tremendous amount of information and insight in an extremely concise way. Needless to say, the picture drawn of human beings is intensely negative. The simple microcosm depicted here shows why extremists always seem to defeat moderates and why the great national conflicts in the world never seem to end (insert your choice here).
Dawn also uses the Western to show us negative science fiction. In negative science fiction, we learn to create a better world by seeing what not to do. The key technique for doing that is the dystopian world, a technique I discuss in detail in both the Myth and Masterpiece classes. We’ve been seeing a lot of dystopias in popular storytelling recently, in books and films like The Hunger Games and Divergent. I would go so far as to say that knowing how to create utopias and dystopias on the page is now essential for every writer to master, regardless of genre or medium.
By using the Western story form, Dawn is able to create a dystopia based on a concept from social philosophy and game theory known as Prisoner’s Dilemma. We saw Prisoner’s Dilemma used in the dystopian world of The Dark Knight. In Prisoner’s Dilemma, two partners suspected of a crime are placed in separate rooms. The authorities give each suspect four outcomes based on whether the two prisoners confess or remain silent. Because the system is skewed and because neither prisoner can trust what the other will say, each inevitably confesses and causes the downfall of both.
This is precisely what happens in Dawn. Because each tribe has fundamental visual differences, and each is separated in space, neither can fully trust the other. And once a single member of one tribe commits an act of hatred against the other, the downward cycle of distrust and destruction quickly hurtles to the bottom.
If Dawn shows the power of genre to tell a concise story, it also shows what happens when writers fail to transcend their form. Transcending a genre means doing the story beats in a fresh way. In Dawn, the writers are so enamored with playing out the Western beats in science fiction dress that the film starts to get predictable about halfway through. And once the downward cycle of opposition between the two tribes is set, the story pretty much hits the same beat all the way to the end.
True, by stepping into the science fiction realm, the writers have taken on a more ambitious challenge than they faced with a horror film like Rise. And for the most part they do a good job of meeting that challenge. Given the box office and the critical response, I seem to be one of a handful of people who thought this film failed to reach its potential.
But whether you agree with my assessment or not, the lesson I take from Dawn is valid: if you not only pick the right genre for your story, but transcend it in truly original ways, you set yourself apart as one of the best writers in popular storytelling today.
I really enjoyed DAWN, but loved RISE. I think the great response to DAWN is based on the fact that it has much more action and spectacular effects that enhance the story (for once). It’s not just a series of explosions for the sake of explosions. However, DAWN is primarily a second act movie, meaning that it’s akin to THE TWO TOWERS in THE LORD OF THE RINGS trilogy. Remember, it was RETURN OF THE KING that won the Oscar. It could very well be the same for the next film in the PLANET OF THE APES series.
Great insight as always. Even on the few occasions when I disagree with your viewpoint (American Hustle) I always learn from it. After seeing Dawn I was surprised by the critical response. I thought all the scenes used to set up the apes as “human” were completely boring, unoriginal, and inconsistent. The music was so dreadful, like a singer crooning out of key, that it literally made me cringe. But ultimately, I don’t think they really knew what their story was about, or maybe they were trying to make it about too many things. But either way, it seemed to offer no insight, so it didn’t inspire much conjecture in me or my friends, except maybe that all we could talk about was how disappointed we were, and what they could have possible done to bring the story to life. But there’s clearly one thing that it was not about: the role of women in any kind of leadership position in times of crisis. But this is Hollywood storytelling so, I think their biggest “crime” is that most of the movie is incredibly bland.
I agree entirely about the predictability of most of Rise. One problem with following genre format is that a fealty to the mechanics of plot can override or ignore the (potential) complexity of character. The symmetries you point out (enlightened leaders, hostile antagonists) remain just that: balanced elements. Why Carver is so hostile (and yet still allowed along on the quest) never gets the shred of a back story beyond knee-jerk racism, and Koba’s rage, which requires in part remembering his character from the previous installment, is similarly only sketched in. Too much attention to the beats and little or no attention to the characters does genre a disservice and produces only an anemic sequel rather than an enriched continuation of the form.
The Dawn of the Planet of the Apes is poor storytelling that not even the great special effects could mask over; pun intended, though I believe the apes are not costumes anymore and are CGI?
Forgive me for digressing. The writers of the aforementioned film clearly do not understand genre, and unfortunately for us cinema-goers, nor do most professional screenwriters.
For instance, Jason Clarke’s character is a perfect human being. Yawn! So boring, but more importantly, purely good characters and purely bad characters should only be found in Fairytale. Real life is so diverse, people have many levels of complexity to their character. Not in this film.
Now the writers should have added Drama to the mix by adding Clarke’s character’s backstory
which we never see, only a couple of lines of dialogue around a campfire. Great stories move backwards and forwards. I mean, a bunch of marauding meanevlonet monkeys, bent on destruction, and for no visible reason; remember the old adage, show don’t tell? Clarke’s character travels into the woods to save humanity, ethnographically speaking.
Now, if we had some backstory, a ghost, what Mr. Truby refers to as Step 2, something that haunts the Hero, perhaps like a monkey killed his mother, then going back into the woods would have created real conflict with Clarke’s now pseudo family, but they all turn on a dime and say: “I’ll go with you.” Remember, you should have a reluctant hero. Desire is what drives the hero, and Step 2, Ghost, is a counter-desire. And, as humans, we have counter-desires all the time. Not these characters.
Now the Writers do use a comparative method, which Mr. Truby highlights. You have Clarke/Ceasar and Kobo/Carver. Good Human/Monkey. Bad Human/Monkey. The writers tried to play-down the apparent weakness of the Fairytale-Esque Characters by using the comparative method, but fail miserably.
The Writers then give the most important step in any story, the Self Revelation, to Ceasar, on the couch, saying he should have trusted Clarke’s character, and not Kobo. Now the Self Revelation is Step 23. And should be the most intense and sudden part of the movie, not some monkey slumped on a sofa, talking about how wrong he’s been. This step should have been used as Step 21,Visit to Death.
Anyway, they go into Battle, and Caesar and Clarke’s character talk about leaving. Caesar’s dialogue rambles on about something, to be honest, I can’t remember; couldn’t wait to get out of the cinema; looks into the camera, trying to implicate the audience, thinking they are transcending the genre and completing a truly advanced screenplay. Sorry, but they failed.
The FX are great. Some truly great battle scenes. And Jason Clarke’s acting was brilliant, even though the character, from a writing standpoint, was flawed. What this empathically points out is that no amount of acting or FX can cover up a poor writing craft. It simply cannot do it.
What annoys me is that these studios/producers spend millions of dollars on FX, but little on the script development. Trust me, this film will quickly be forgotten.
It comes back, time and time again to what Mr. Truby talks about, but very few people understand. the number one problem facing writers right now, all over the world is: “What Genre?” And most writers choose the wrong genre to highlight what they want to express. But, then, once they have picked the genre, they then fail to hit the beats of that genre, which they should not have been writing in anyway. So it is a guaranteed fail.
Now, a lot of you might say, look at the money it’s making at the Box Office? No doubt. But, I hope, people on here are Writers, and examining the movie from a structure standpoint.
Pretentious as fuck Gary…dawn of the planet of the apes in still more well written than anything john truby has ever written