Eucatastrophe

The concept of the eucatastrophe was first expounded by J. R. R. Tolkien. He posited the notion that in fiction, as in life, if we can accept the idea of the catastrophe, one single event which immediately and irrevocably changes everything for the worse, we must be able to accept the possibility of its opposite. Therefore the eucatastrophe is a single event which immediately and irrevocably changes everything for the better.

The concept is useful in drama, particularly but not exclusively in relation to stories of action or adventure. If, as Robert McKee suggests, your story is a sequence of turns, each of which increases the tension, the conflict and the peril, then just before you end you must release this tension. This can be done gradually, resolving small parts of the overall conflict, and this can be successful – BigTrouble in Little China, for example, has a series of confrontations in which the various enemies are confronted and defeated as our heroes make their escape from the villains’ lair – the main villain Lo Pan is only one of these and is despatched relatively early but this does not end the story.

By resolving the conflict via a eucatastrophe, however, the writer allows the audience to experience all the release of tension in one moment, heightening their experience of relief and elation.

To be a successful eucatastrophe therefore this terminating event must immediately and irrevocably resolve the whole threat faced by the heroes and, in most cases, the world in general.

There should ideally be multiple threats which should be independent of each other but all of which are resolved by the single act. The destruction of Gozer at the end of Ghostbusters for example arguably does not qualify as a eucatastrophe as the giant marshmallow man is the only threat left at that stage of the movie – it’s destruction only resolves that single jeopardy.

It must also, however, have been built up to by the plot – if this event occurs out of nowhere the audience will feel cheated, if the heroes have not earned their salvation by their own actions the feeling of triumph can be hollow. In that case, the conclusion is not a eucatastrophe but rather a deus ex machina, and such endings are seldom successful[1].

I will try to illustrate the uses if the eucatastrophe ending with some examples.

Lord of the Rings.
As noted above, it was Tolkien who first named this phenomenon and his most celebrated work ends in just this way. The destruction of the ring has the effect of destroying Sauron, the principal antagonist of the book[2] which in turn destroys his armies. This is even clearer in the movie, we see the hordes of orcs, goblins and trolls literally swallowed up by fissures in the earth and we are aware that prior to this our heroes faced an impossible fight: they were doomed to be vanquished and the world to be overthrown. But by Frodo destroying the ring this fate is immediately and irrevocably changed for the better.
The destruction of the ring is the main driving force behind every action of the protagonists and it is made clear to the characters and the audience exactly what is at stake. This then is the purest form of the eucatastrophe.

Star Wars: A New Hope.
The last act of Star Wars involves the rebels gathered at their hidden fortress on Yavin but with the Death Star closing in – they have the plans that enable them to isolate the station’s one weak spot, but if they don’t make it in time the whole moon, with them on it, will be destroyed – this is clearly shown to the audience by the graphic indicating how close the Death Star is to getting a clear shot at the moon. Luke finally makes his run down the trench and, using the force, makes the shot – and immediately and irrevocably the threat to the rebels is gone and the Empire is dealt a crushing blow.
It could be argued that the Death Star is a single threat at this stage of the story, especially with Darth Vader having been taken care of by Han’s redemptive return. I would argue however that the greater political background sewn through the story presents a wider threat which is resolved by the destruction of the Death Star.

This then is a true eucatastrophe, enhanced both by the countdown that we, and the rebels, are forced to endure and by the previous pilot’s failed attempt to make the shot. But the elements of this victory were there to be seen from the beginning – the plans in his memory being the reason R2D2 was put in the escape pod in the first place; Luke’s burgeoning power with the Force. The result is an overwhelming sense of relief and triumph, one genuinely earned by the characters.

The Avengers
Many regard the fact that the destruction of the Chitauri base ship by the nuclear bomb at the conclusion of The Avengers somehow also disabled those Chitauri already on Earth as something of a cheat. It has been compared unfavourably with Star Wars: The Phantom Menace[3]. I am willing to be more generous than this – the fact that the shadowy ‘council’ giving Nick Fury orders would be willing to give the order to use a nuclear weapon on a civilian population is in keeping with their intention to use the Tesseract to make weapons – making them no better than Hydra, this universe’s nazis. Beyond that, the notion that Tony Stark was going to have to face up to the responsibilities of being a hero, including possibly making the ultimate sacrifice[3], is foreshadowed in his arguments with Captain America earlier on. To my mind that qualifies this as a eucatastrophe even if the exact mechanics of what caused all those Chitauri to drop dead are never fully explored.
This also explains why, when the Avengers come to confront Loki in Stark’s apartment he has no fight left in him, despite Thor’s assertion that they are not finished. To have another peril to overcome would rob the eucatastrophe of its power.

As mentioned above, the principle is not restricted to action or adventure movies. Aaron Sorkin in particular is adept at building a eucatastrophe into his movies.

A Few Good Men.
By the time Tom Cruise’s Daniel Caffey gets to cross examine Jack Nicholson’s Colonel Jessop things are looking bad. We already know that making this kind of accusation against a senior officer, one whose political star is on the rise, without the proper evidence could not only destroy his clients’ case but could end his own career. Jessop therefore represents multiple threats – both to the case in court and to Caffey’s wider career.

Caffey has already lost his direct witness, Colonel Markinson, and straight away Jessop is able to deal with the circumstantial evidence Caffey had hoped would trap him. It all seems to be over – to the extent that Jessop has got up and is walking out.
Then – seemingly from nowhere – Caffey gets back into him and is able to trap Jessop in contradictory answers – a classic cross examination pincer. This wrong-foots Jessop to the point where, when directly challenged, he bellows a confession to having ordered the assault which is the substance of the film.

This may appear to be out of the blue but every part of this final cross examination is built up previously – the two answers which ultimately trap Jessop, the fact that Caffey understands Jessop’s arrogance enough to know he wants to admit to giving the order – all of this is already in front of us. It is Sorkin’s genius in hiding these facts in plain sight, in misdirecting our attention to the other lines of questioning, that allows him to create the eucatastrophe at the climax of this movie.

The American President.
The drama in The American President is built up of President Andrew Shepherd’s falling popularity in the run up to his second term election, exacerbated by attacks on his character by his opponent, Senator Bob Rumsen[5]. All of Shepherd’s staff, and his love interest and the stick Rumsen is using to beat him with, Sydney Ellen Wade, try to persuade him to engage in a character debate, but he remains adamant that to do so would be to give in to Rumsen’s ploy. The nadir of Shepherd’s year comes the night before the crucial State of the Union Address – his approval rating is at rock bottom, he has driven Sydney away by his political manoeuvring, he has even had a shouting match with his best friend/Chief of Staff. Again, our protagonist is beset by multiple, if interconnected, threats.

Sorkin resolves all of this conflict by giving Shepherd a speech – one of the best written speeches I know of – in which he confronts the bully, abandons his compromised crime bill and stands up for the environmental bill he had betrayed. The feeling of pure elation at the close of that scene is classic eucatastrophe.

So. The eucatastrophe may not be the only method of concluding the plot but when it is done correctly it greatly enhances the feelings of elation and relief as the story is resolved. And it is a more flexible technique than it may first appear.

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[1] I say seldom, for some reason Raiders of the Lost Ark manages to end in a literal deus ex machina which not only absolves Indy of the need to save the day or defeat his enemies, but also carries the inescapable conclusion that if he had just butted out, the Ark could have been opened in Berlin in the presence of Hitler, subjecting him to the face-melting apparitions. And yet it retains its power and has become recognised as possibly the greatest action/adventure movie of all time. How it manages this is a mystery.
[2] Book not books. Tolkien was very clear that he regarded it as a single book in several volumes.
[3] A comparison which, many would agree, amounts to fightin’ words…
[4] This universe’s Kobyashi Maru
[5] And who finishes each speech with the line “My name’s Bob Rumsen, and I’m running for President!” – apparently taken from a real life candidate, but giving Shepherd the perfect riposte at the end of his speech.