You Are There: Subtle Fourth Wall Breaks
Breaking the fourth wall is usually a loud, gonzo writing trick. But sometimes it’s an elegant grace note you might not even consciously notice.
NEW STANDARD DISCLAIMER: This newsletter aggressively spoils things.
WHEN you’re a baby writer, everything is new and exciting1. The first time I learned about stream of consciousness, for example, I spent the next six months writing nothing but stream of consciousness stories2. These were all uniformly terrible and best forgotten, but in the moment they felt very fresh and exciting3.
Eventually, you wear off that shine and it becomes just another tool. Sometimes a bit of stream of consciousness makes sense, sometimes writing an entire novel in that mode is an amazing artistic goal4. But you learn the when and where of things5.
Breaking the “fourth wall” is one of those writing tricks that gets people really, really excited. The fourth wall, of course, is the page. edge of stage, or screen that separates your audience from your fictional universe, and traditionally your characters all pretend to be totally unaware that there is a person staring at them, or reading their thoughts6. So when a character acknowledges the fourth wall—thus, breaking it—it can be a thrilling moment.
Can be. And usually isn’t, because most fourth wall breaks are done with the drunken enthusiasm of a writer who has just this very moment discovered this technique7. Which is to say, most fourth wall breaks are loud and noisy, like in Deadpool, or Funny Games. Or the breaks are baked into the entire premise of the work, like in The Office, where Jimming the camera happens 500 times per episode. That’s not to say that the fourth wall breaking isn’t fun or clever—it usually is at least one of those things!—but it’s always very, very obvious, and often milked for some pretty easy jokes or shocks.
But not always. In fact, there are some fourth wall breaks that are so subtly done you might not even be aware of them. And these quieter fourth wall breaks are often pretty powerful as storytelling techniques, because they work almost subliminally to alter how you’re perceiving a story without hitting you over the head with it.
Oh, I Didn’t See You There
There are a few examples I can offer of powerful fourth-wall breaks that are so subtle you can argue they aren’t breaks at all, although this is my newsletter and I am always right within the confines of these essays, so it will do you no good8. Here are a few fourth wall breaks that are subtly effective:
The Revenant. The story of one man’s determination to survive and exact revenge on the man who left him to die is a powerful, visceral film experience. It ends on a glorious shot of Leonardo DiCaprio as Hugh Glass seeing an angelic vision of his dead wife. Glass is shook after his near-death struggle, and his devastated face turns to look right at us in the final seconds. It’s a powerful moment because we’ve just spent the last two hours or so watching this man suffer, and his broken expression as he stares at us makes us realize that we’ve been enjoying his suffering—and Glass was a real person, who actually lived this—as entertainment9.
A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood. This feel-good biopic about Fred Rogers, starring Tom Hanks (whose performance kind of makes Fred Rogers seem creepy, which I didn’t think possible) has a really subtle fourth-wall break its “minute of silence” scene. In this scene, Rogers asks troubled journalist Lloyd (Matthew Rhys) to take a minute to think about all the people who have loved him in his life and made him who he is. The camera pans around the restaurant and back to Rogers, who shifts his gaze from Lloyd to, well, you, for a few seconds. It includes us in the moment, and challenges us to consider our own trail of emotional connection10.
The Shining. One of the great things about The Shining is how eager everyone is to assign great meaning to literally every single detail of the film. Some of this stuff may have great meaning! Some may have been improvisations, or mistakes. As pointed out by Filippo Ulivieri, one of these great details is how often Jack Torrance (Jack Nicholson) Jims the camera throughout the film. Like, constantly, but only for very brief glances, often lasting just a frame or two. It gives the nearly subliminal impression that Jack is aware of us, the audience, somehow, but he chooses not to acknowledge this for some reason. It’s both unsettling and embiggens our sense of how crazy he is.
JFK. Okay, this one isn’t exactly subtle (it’s an Oliver Stone joint, after all), but it’s memorable, and it’s not acknowledged as part of the narrative, so it counts. When I saw this bloated, smug film as a teenager I was impressed by this bit at the end when Jim Garrison (Kevin Costner) is imploring the jury to basically endorse the idea that President Kennedy was assassinated by a conspiracy involving roughly 500 distinct interests and he says “it’s up to you” just as the camera moves up to set his gaze directly on us in the audience. All these years later I am ... less impressed, but it’s still a cool moment.
Doctor Who, ‘Blink.’ The tenth episode of Season Three of the rebooted Doctor Who is an edge case; the story involves Weeping Angels, aliens who are “quantum locked” and can only move when you’re not watching them (and generally only move when they’re coming to murder you). It’s a legitimately scary concept, and a curious observation is that there are scenes in the episode when none of the characters are looking at the Angels, but the Angels are not moving ... implying that we are looking at them, and that’s why they can’t move. The final scene drives this idea home, as The Doctor speaks directly to the camera (he’s been leaving clues for other characters in the form of DVD easter eggs, which is a very 2007 plot point), which, again, implies that he’s speaking to us, the audience.
These fourth wall breaks are more effective than the other kind. The Deadpool-style fourth wall break is fun, but it’s a blunt instrument: You’re only going to have fun with it. The more subtle the fourth wall break, the more powerful it is.
Here’s Johnny
When a forth wall break is subtle like in these examples, it becomes an almost subliminal effect. It’s like when you think someone on a subway or in a crowded room is looking at you—once you notice it, you can’t shake it11. It stays with you. Ultimately it makes you feel like you’re immersed into the story, because characters are treating you like you’re actually there.
More importantly, it feels like a secret connection. Something intimate. When a character seems to briefly acknowledge your presence but then does nothing with that acknowledgment, it’s like they’re saying be cool, I know you’re watching12. It’s a lot more powerful than someone constantly mugging for the camera.
Then again, what do I know? The voice in my head that narrates my life hasn’t actually referred to me by name in 21 years13.
NEXT WEEK: Dune Part Two <gestures vaguely at everything>
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Developing as a writer is just a long series of realizing no, you didn’t invent that idea, technique, or concept, and then realizing you’re not even doing it particularly well.
This is also when I realized my inner narrative was basically all about how hungry I was and wondering whether there were Doritos in the kitchen. In other words, I am not a complex man.
If you want to read them you’ll have to kill me. I have a dead man’s switch set up that will inflict them on the world after I’m gone as my final revenge.
Goal, yes. Amazing novel? Almost never.
Unlike the when and wear of actually wearing pants, which I have yet to master.
Just like I pretend you can’t hear my thoughts, even though we all know you can.
Is “Drunken Enthusiasm” the title of my memoir? I sure hope so.
That’s why I will now include a footnote noting how handsome and suave I am, because now it’s canon and part of the official record that future biographers will have to respect.
Insert standard joke about Leonardo DiCaprio being puzzled at the advanced age of his supposed wife here.
It also grabs our attention and redirects it to the film in case our minds wandered a bit during this scene. You really can’t ask me to sit quietly with my oen thoughts if you don’t want me wandering off to build a fort out of cardboard boxes.
I’m usually right when I think this, but you try riding the subway without pants and see how many people stare at you.
This is slightly more unsettling than cool when the character is Jack Torrance, because it’;s like he’s saying be cool, let me murder my family and then we can hang out, ‘kay?
Disturbingly, it refers to me as The Subject. I may have a problem.