Do You Know the MacGuffin man?

Let's talk about the MacGuffin.

For those unacquainted with the term, it's one Alfred Hitchcock used often and an approach of which he was very fond. 

Briefly, the MacGuffin is something that the characters in a story believe is important, it's even important for the furtherance of the plot, but is not in itself terribly important. 

It was first coined, it's been claimed, by writer and script fixer (or scenario editor) Angus MacPhail, an old friend of Hitchcock's and who contributed - uncredited- to the scripts of both his remake of The Man Who Knew Too Much and Vertigo.

An example is the microfilm in North by Northwest, which is almost an aside in the storytelling, and the money Marion Crane steals in Psycho. It's what kicks off the whole journey to that shower and what happens afterwards but is so insignificant subsequently it's hardly mentioned again.

You might even argue the statuette of the bird of prey in The Maltese Falcon is the ultimate MacGuffin. Everyone wants it, the storyline is about finding it, but in the end it turns out to be fake. The story is about the search and the character interplay, the actual object doesn't really matter that much.

In Alex Cox's cult film from the 80s 'Repo Man', it's a strangely glowing case (memories there of Robert Aldrich's film version of 'Kiss Me Deadly'). A case also features in 'Pulp Fiction.'

And more recently, we have the Rabbit's Foot in Mission Impossible 3. What on earth is it? I don't know but it doesn't matter. The characters believe it to be important and that's enough.

I suppose it could be argued that the identity of the killer in some police procedurals - especially those where the culprit turns out to be someone perhaps barely introduced before - is also a MacGuffin. It's the investigation that matters and the people who are conducting it, not necessarily the person whose collar is felt. That may well be a controversial opinion but I'm from Glasgow and we fear nothing.

That was the driving force behind almost every episode of Columbo, I believe. I don't include the ones based on Ed McBain stories for which the makers abandoned the formula which gave us the identity of the killer up front. That showed us knowing the killer didn't matter - what was important was the way Columbo tripped them up and the wonderful character by-play along the way.

So, class, the MacGuffin is a catalyst to get the plot moving, it's not the plot itself. Write that down.

So why am I thinking of MacGuffins?

I've written a book on spec and I have pulled a MacGuffin. The thing is, it's only now that it's out on submission that I have realised! It didn't occur to me while I was writing or reviewing.

There is an item that everyone is desperate to find but really it's merely a device to kickstart the plot and to draw in the characters, because they are what the book is really about. Especially the protagonist who - and I can't believe I'm going to say this because it sounds so phoney - embarks on a journey both physically and psychologically. Yes, I'm cringing but I can't think of another way to explain it.

Obviously, I'm not going to expand on what that MacGuffin is or anything about the plot save to say that, despite my gut-wrenchingly arty-farty description above, it is a fast-moving adventure. (Publishers, please contact my agent).

I hope commissioning editors see it for what it is and not a flaw in the storytelling.

I'd be interested in hearing other examples of MacGuffins - and whether not any writers, whether published or aspiring, feel a MacGuffin is a valid tool in our belt or a cheat.

Storytelling—Casablanca Style

One of my favorite films, Casablanca, turned 77 on November 26. Whenever it’s on television, I never miss it. But what about it leads me to watch it over and over again? We do the same thing with movies like It’s a Wonderful Life and the Wizard of Oz and Gone with the Wind.

Is it the nostalgia? Possibly.

Or is it because they check off all the right storytelling boxes?

Let’s stick with Casablanca. Our protagonist is the mysterious owner of a café in a very dangerous, exotic location against the backdrop of World War II. Our hero, or anti-hero, is Rick Blaine (Humphrey Bogart), a man with a dark past. He’s known to have run guns to Ethiopia during its war with Italy and to have fought with the Loyalists during the Spanish Civil War. But something in his past has made him bitter, unwilling to take sides. He says, “I stick my neck out for nobody.”

And yet, we see a soft side of Rick when the randy opportunist Captain Renault (Claude Rains) offers to trade letters of transit to a young couple, newlyweds and refugees, for sex. Okay, it’s never actually said out loud in the film, but it was 1933, and we know what Renault wants. Rick lets the husband win at roulette, allowing them enough cash to buy their way to safety.

Casablanca comes with a fabulous MacGuffin. A MacGuffin is an object or a device in a book or a movie that moves the plot forward but is largely irrelevant. In this case, it’s the letters of transit that the creepy Ugarte has stolen from two murdered Nazis. Ugarte is played by Peter Lorre and nobody does creepy any better than him.

The Germans are hot on his trail and he begs Rick to take the letters of transit and hide them until he can come back safely to retrieve them. They’re worth a fortune on the black market. Ugarte is arrested and eventually dies in captivity. In the words of Renault, “I’m making out the report now. We haven’t quite decided whether he committed suicide or died trying to escape.”

The letters of transit are papers allowing their bearer to move about Nazi occupied Europe. They are the key to getting to a neutral country and safety

Enter the love interest. Ilsa Lund (Ingrid Bergman) is part of Rick’s dark history. She thought that her freedom fighter husband had died in a concentration camp and Ilsa had fallen in love with Rick. On the day that the Germans stormed into Paris, Rick and Ilsa were supposed to meet at the train station and leave for a safe haven. Rick waited at the train station in vain, never knowing why Ilsa never showed up, why she had forsaken him.

It wasn’t war that had made Rick bitter, it was lost love.

When she arrives in Casablanca, it is with her husband, alive and well, having escaped the concentration camp. Her husband, Victor Lazlo (Paul Henreid) is a famed Czech resistance fighter, someone the Germans want badly to get their hands on again.

Lazlo and Ilsa need letters of transit to find their way to neutral Portugal and time to organize their fight against the Nazis. They need the letters of transit that Rick has in his possession.

So let’s review what we have here in this storytelling process. We have Casablanca, an exotic location in a dangerous part of the world during World War II. We have a strong, taciturn, hero who is reluctant to help anyone but himself. We have Rick’s former love, Ilsa, torn between her feelings for Rick and her love and loyalty that she has for her husband. We have Lazlo, who desperately wants to get his wife to safety but also to fight the Germans.

And then we have the bad guys. Captain Renault is part of the Vichy police force but willing to play both sides of the fence. But the actual villain is Major Strasser (Conrad Veidt) willing to go any length to, once again, take Lazlo into custody.

And percolating behind the story is the tension between the French, yearning for their freedom, and the Nazis. One of the most stirring scenes of the film takes place when a group of Nazis gather around the piano at Rick’s Café and loudly sing “Deutschland Uber Alles”. Disgusted by what he hears, Victor Lazlo leads the band and the rest of the bar in singing “La Marseillaise”. It’s a duel of national anthems that the Nazis lose.

The story arc is nearly perfect. In the end, the bitter loner has regained his humanity and his patriotism. He proves his love to Ilsa by allowing her to leave with her husband, after she's tried to make a deal with Rick for the letters, telling him that she'd stay in Casablanca and leave her husband.

I won't tell you how the movie ends, although I'm sure anyone who's reading this has seen the film a dozen times. But for me, as schmaltzy as it is, I thought it was the perfect way to tie things up.

And finally, the movie has some of the most memorable lines in movie history. My favorite? “Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine.”

Play it Sam.