DIALOG

Probably the greatest challenge an author faces when introducing characters to a reader is bringing them to life in the smallest possible amount of time. We want the audience to know who they are dealing with, and we want to do it subtly, showing rather than telling.

This week we will discuss the technique of utilizing dialog to establish different aspects of characterization in a story. For my own convenience and sanity, and also because screen-and-teleplays require brevity by their very nature, I have decided to example dialog from the big and small screen rather than from novels and short stories. I have also chosen not to draw on radio scripts from the Golden Age of Radio, even though they were often masterclasses in dialog, because that is a subject for an essay in its own right. Speaking specifically, the purpose of this exercise is to demonstrate that dialog is at least as effective as any other form of action or description in letting the audience know what sort of character they are dealing with, and in the shortest possible amount of time. In that spirit...

MINIMALIST CHARACTER REVEALS

In this brief and very simple exchange from the 1945 horror movie "The Red House," a character reveals much about her personality:

PETE: Hens doing all right?
MEG: We always have more eggs than we can use.

This communicates the woman's point of view in a single sentence. Pete, seeing Meg's basket is full of eggs, inquires about the hens and their yield, probably in a rhetorical way; but Meg, who is unhappy, puts a negative spin on a positive outcome.

Likewise this gem from the Canadian TV series DA VINCI'S INQUEST, which shows exactly what kind of person Mayor Russ Hathaway is, while allowing his lawyer, Richard Norton, to show both his wit, intelligence and political cynicism:

HATHAWAY: As far as I'm concerned, I was ready to come clean right from the start, but on the advice of my lawyer, which is you, I didn't – but only to protect my girlfriend and my wife.

NORTON: Wife first, girlfriend second.

CHARACTER REVEAL THROUGH PATHOS

M*A*S*H (1972 – 1983) was probably the best example of high-level repartee and banter in the history of television. If the dialog was sometimes heavily stylized, it rarely if ever failed to communicate its point in the most consise possible way. In this sequence, the hospital's resident innocent, Corporal Walther “Radar” O'Reilly, is ashamed of weeping over the death of a soldier who hails from his home state of Iowa. Army surgeon B.J. Hunnicutt shows his mettle as a human being when he replies to the boy's question with an answer which throws out all differences of rank, societial position and social class and levels them as human beings:

RADAR: When was the last time you wanted to cry?
B.J.: What time is it?

In another scene from the same show, the classic “frenemies” Hawkeye Pierce and Charles Emerson Winchester III are forced by potential tragedy to lower their guards and communicate as human beings about their respective relationships with their fathers:

HAWKEYE: Dad and I are too close to let this all suddenly end with...silence, 12,000 miles apart.
WINCHESTER: Pierce, you should be grateful that... only distance is separating you. My father and I have been 12,000 miles apart in the same room.
HAWKEYE: Yeah?
WINCHESTER: The most intimate and personal communication at the Winchester household took place at the evening meal. Every night, promptly at 7.15, we would gather at the dinner table. The soup would be served, and my father would begin with... "Tell us what you did today, Charles." As the elder of the two children, I was given the privilege of speaking first. I would then have until the salad to report the highlights of my day. Even now, the sight of lettuce makes me talk faster. I always assumed that that's how it was in every family. But when I see the...warmth...closeness, the fun of your relationship....My father's a good man. He always wanted the best for me. But...where I have a father...you have a dad.
HAWKEYE: You never told me this before.
WINCHESTER: Actually...Hawkeye...I've never told you anything before.

The last two lines of dialog cement a deeply emotional sequence by having Winchester use, for the first and perhaps only time, Hawkeye's nickname, instead of the contemptuously uttered “Pierce.”

CHARACTER REVEAL THROUGH HUMOR AND WORDPLAY

A character's sense of humor, or lack of same, is central to their identity. There are however many types of humor, from observational to sarcastic to flat-out cruel, and the sort of humor a character displays will tell us much about them.

The following examples are drawn from many difference sources:

(BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER)

The stuffy and pedantic librarian Giles, gets spiked by Jenny, his far more hip and culturally connected love interest:

Rupert Giles: I'm-I'm just gonna stay and clean up a little. I'll-I'll, uh, I'll be back in the Middle Ages.
Jenny Calendar: Did you ever leave?

(PLANET OF THE APES)

Dr. Zaius: I see you've brought the female of your species. I didn't realize that man could be monogamous.
Taylor: On this planet, it's easy.

SIMON & SIMON:

RICK: It's a messy case.
A.J.: This from a man who eats burritos in the shower!

CHARACTER REVEAL THROUGH ACTION

A writer does not always have all the time he wants to establish his characters; or he may simply wish for a less traditional way of showing what his character is made of without tiresome exposition or over the top action. In this sequence from THE KARATE KID, we learn everything we need to know about the villainous John Kreese by seeing how he trains his students:

Kreese: What do we study here?
Karate Class : THE WAY OF THE FIST SIR.
Kreese : And what is that way?
Karate Class : STRIKE FIRST, STRIKE HARD, NO MERCY SIR.

Kreese's entire philosophy, which "rests in his fist," is revealed here without him even interacting with the film's protagonist: this is the sort of man who imbues teenage boys with dangerous fighting skills and imputes them with an aggressive, merciless attitude, which mirrors his own philosophy of life. His character is established irrevocably in this brief glimpse.

CHARACTER REVEAL COMBINING DRAMA AND HUMOR

Long before Joss Whedon popularized the school of "undercutting drama with humor," the writers of M*A*S*H were hard at work doing the same thing. In this sequence, the cross-dressing misfit Klinger drops his veil of clownishness for the probing shrink, Dr. Freedman, to reveal the true source of his hatred for the army. It begins with Freedman assuming that Klinger, who is trying to get out of the military on a fake psychological discharge, has arrived to enlist psychiatrist for this purpose. Freedman isn't having any.

FREEDMAN: I can't help you with your Section Eight, Klinger.
KLINGER: I'm talking about a Section Eight. I'm talking about being crazy.

With this sentence, Klinger is saying a great deal. First, he is admitting that his transvestite persona is just that. Second, he is showing his trust in the doctor. Third, he is expressing sincere fears in the hope that the doctor will understand. Now Freedman shows his mettle by realizing that Klinger is in need of his genuine psychiatric counsel. After listening to the corporal explain that he feels his transvestite act has actually become part of his identity, the psychiatrist probes deeper:

FREEDMAN: Klinger, let me ask you something. Why do you want to get out of here?
KLINGER: Why? Well, there's, there's lots of reasons. I guess death tops the list. I don't want to die. And I don't want to look at other people while they do it. And I don't want to be told where to stand while it happens to me. And I don't want to be told how to do it to somebody else. And I ain't gonna, period, that's it, I'm gettin' out!
FREEDMAN: You don't like death.
KLINGER: Overall, I'd rather lay in a hammock with a couple of girls than be dead. Yes.

Here the writers do a great deal with not very many words. Freedman's intelligence is established by virtue of the way he asks the initial question -- he clearly suspects Klinger's motives, but isn't sure. Klinger, on the other hand, becomes increasingly agitated as he comes toward his central motivation for obtaining the Section Eight discharcge: he does not want to kill. The exchange demonstrates both the sincerity of Klinger as well as his moral compass, and shows just how shrewd a psychiatrist Freedman really is. The last interchange releases the tension of the scene by allowing Klinger to go from angry confession to his more familiar sarcasm.

Another example of this technique, taken from SCHINDLER'S LIST, couples seriousness and humor to show the protagonist, Schindler, begins his story not only as an absolutely unregenerate opportunist, but as a man completely unwilling to take responsibility for past failures. Schindler's tone is serious, but he is setting up his wife Emilie for a punch-line: and this, too, is in keeping with his character, which takes nothing very seriously.

SCHINDLER: There's no way I could have known this before, but there was always something missing. In every business
I tried, I see now it wasn't me that was failing, i was this thing, this missing thing. Even if I'd known what it was, there's nothing I could have done about it, because you can't create this sort of thing. And it makes all the difference in the world between success and failure.
EMILIE: Luck?
SCHINDLER: War.

DIALOG AS COMMENTARY

Great dialog does not always have to possess an immediately obvious purpose. One of the best conversations on M*A*S*H seems to point to Hawkeye's cleverness and sense of humor, but in reality simply highlights the universiality of the American experience circa the 1950s. It is not a question of “what are we fighting for” but rather “what do we want to go back to when the fighting is over.”

HAWKEYE: Where are you from?
HARKNESS: Idaville, Indiana.
HAWKEYE: No kidding? Idaville!
HARKNESS: Yeah.
HAWKEYE: Ever go to the dances at the American Legion Hall there?
HARKNESS: Yeah, sure.
HAWKEYE: And, um...on the edge of town, there's this little place where you can get the world's greasiest French fries.
HARKNESS: Right, Mona's!
HAWKEYE: Yeah, yeah. And, uh, uh, what else? The Studebaker dealership. Always has those search lights when they bring in the new models.
HARKNESS: Hey, when were you in Idaville?
HAWKEYE: Never. I grew up in the same small town in Maine.

DIALOG AS A MEANS OF LETTING THE AUDIENCE KNOW THEY'RE NOT IN KANSAS ANYMORE

In this very terse exchange from ESCAPE FROM SOBIBOR, one inmate of the Nazi death camp Sobibor cautions the other, whose reply reminds him -- and the audience -- that caution is no longer part of their vocabulary:

SASHA: Shlomo, do not take any unnecessary risks.
SHLOMO: It's Sobibor.

An entire world of meaning lies in those two words.

SARCASM IN DIALOG AS A MEANS OF ESTABLISHING RELATIONSHIPS OR CHARACTERS

In this banter from the British series THE MIDSOMER MURDERS, we discover the nature of the relationship between Detective Chief Inspector Barnaby and his young protoge, Detective Inspector Troy. Barnaby is clearly fond of the Socratic method:

TROY: I've had a thought.
BARNABY: Well treat it gently. It's in a strange place.

Likewise, in LAST OF THE MOHICANS, this back-and-forth tells us much about both the sort of relationship Ducan and Hawkeye are going to have, as well as everything we need to know about their respective world-views:

Duncan: There is a war on. How is it you are headed west?
Hawkeye: Well, we kinda face to the north and real subtle-like turn left.

In M*A*S*H, the intense snobbery of Winchester was generally conveyed with jabs like this:

MULCAHY: What time is it in Iowa?
WINCHESTER: 1882.

DIALOG AS A MEANS OF ESTABLISHING CULTURAL NORMS

It is often possible to establish regional, ethnic, or national characteristics in the simplest exchanges. In the otherwise lackluster script for THE WHISTLE BLOWER, the writer manages here to communicate the “Englishness” of his father and son characters in a way which will seem amusingly familiar to English audiences and amusingly different to American ones:

BOB: Are we going to have an argument?
FRANK: I shouldn't be surprised.
BOB: Tea?
FRANK: All right.

DIALOG AS A MEANS OF REVEALING THE MORAL COMPASS SPECIFICALLY

This scene, taken from BLUE THUNDER, demonstrates the different directions of the two characters' moral compasses in just two sentences:

FLETCHER: One civilian dead for every ten terrorists. That's an acceptable ratio.
MURPHY: Unless you're one of the civilians.

DIALOG AS MASS CHARACTER REVEAL

While we must always remember that it is better to show than to tell, dialog does more than simply exist as a way of filling in gaps in exposition. Properly crafted and employed at the right psychological moment in a story, it can do what no amount of “showing” can – fill out a character sketch. This short scene in THE MAGNIFICENT SEVEN manages to tell us crucial facts about no less than four of the main characters. It begins when Chico, the young hothead of the group, expresses dismay over the bitterness and cynicism of the older, more experienced gunmen toward their own professions and lives:

CHICO: Hey. How can you talk like this? Your gun has got you everything you have. Isn't that true? Hmm? Well, isn't that true?
VIN: Yeah, sure. Everything. After awhile you can call bartenders and faro dealers by their first name - maybe two hundred of 'em! Rented rooms you live in - five hundred! Meals you eat in hash houses - a thousand. Home – none. Wife – none. Kids... none. Prospects - zero. Suppose I left anything out?
CHRIS: Yeah. Places you're tied down to - none. People with a hold on you - none. Men you step aside for - none.
LEE: Insults swallowed - none. Enemies - none.
CHRIS: No enemies?
LEE:Alive.
CHICO: Now you're talking.

If we had only this sequence to go on, we would know that a) Chico is still eager and naive about his profession and the consequences it will bring to his life, b) Vin is bitter and remorseful about his life choices, c) Chris takes a somewhat more balanced view, d) Lee, alone among the veterans, still retains (or pretends to retain) some Chico-type enthusiasm.

DIALOG AS FORESHADOWING

REVENGE OF THE SITH is not necessarily known for brilliant repartee, but this tete-a-tete between Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker and Chancellor Sheev Palpatine is a model for “sowing evil seeds” in conversation. Palpatine is seducing Skywalker to the dark side of the force without Anakin even suspecting it is taking place, by playing on Anakin's greatest weakness – his love of Padme Amidala, who he has foreseen will die in childbirth. Palpatine does this without even referencing her name or hinting that he knows of Anakin's secret affair with the senator. In so doing he also weakens Anakin's connection to the Jedi Order.

Palpatine: Have you ever heard the Tragedy of Darth Plagueis the Wise?
Anakin: No.
Palpatine: I thought not. It's not a story the Jedi would tell you. It's a Sith legend. Darth Plagueis was a Dark Lord of the Sith so powerful and so wise, he could use the Force to influence the midi-chlorians to create... life. He had such a knowledge of the dark side, he could even keep the ones he cared about... from dying.
Anakin: He could actually... save people from death?
Palpatine: The dark side of the Force is a pathway to many abilities some consider to be unnatural.
Anakin: What happened to him?
Palpatine: He became so powerful, the only thing he was afraid of was losing his power...which, eventually of course, he did. Unfortunately, he taught his apprentice everything he knew, then his apprentice killed him in his sleep. Ironic. He could save others from death... but not himself.
Anakin: Is it possible to learn this power?
Palpatine: Not from a Jedi.

CONSISTENT TONE AS A MEANS OF USING DIALOG TO CONVEY RELATIONSHIPS

The show SIMON & SIMON excelled in this category – defining the consistent, realistic and humorous relationship between brothers Rick and A.J. Simon. Rick, the older brother, was scruffy, irresponsible, and immature, always looking for the shortcut and the easy payday; A.J. was a snobbish, preppie intellectual who dotted every i and crossed every t. From the very first episode, the brothers' banter continously reminded us of this.

A.J.: We're not going to lose, are we?
RICK: No. Remember, the eagle may soar, but the weasel never gets sucked up into a jet engine.

A.J.: Are you aware that the instructions are all in Spanish?
RICK: Well, that's not a problem, I speak Spanish.
A.J.: Yeah, Rick, but this is technical stuff. I think it's a little tougher than saying 'What time does happy hour start?'

DIALOG AS A MEANS OF ESTABLISHING THE CONTOURS OF RELATIONSHIPS

Since we don't always have eight years, or eight novels, to establish how two characters get along in a story, it's nice to know it can be done considerably faster, sometimes in a single exchange. This one lets us know just how Mr. Ken Holliday feels about his now-superstar ex-wife:

PERRY MASON: And you attended her wedding?
KEN HOLLIDAY: Why not? She performed in front of 30,000 screaming fans: I play “Feelings” in some dive bar full of stiffs. Forgive and forget. I forgave...and she forgot.

This example from the original BATTLESTAR GALACTICA is also telling, when the character of Starbuck introduces his best friend to a third party:

STARBUCK: I'm Starbuck. This is my conscience, Apollo.

DIALOG AS A MEANS OF SHOWING CONFIDENCE

PERRY MASON often found the mastermind lawyer leaning frequently on his private eye, Paul Drake, to perform seemingly impossible tasks. In this sequence, Drake manages to fully convey his self-confidence without quite stepping over the line into arrogance by the insertion of a single word: “pretty.” What's more, the exchange is a play on Drake's self-styled reputation as a ladies' man:

PERRY MASON: Paul, how good are you at finding a needle in a haystack?
PAUL DRAKE: I've got a pretty good magnet.

DIALOG AS A MEANS OF ENIGMA

The purpose of dialog can be to reveal, but it can also be to confuse, lend mystery, and obfuscate the reader/audience. Words can mean exactly what they say, or precisely and entirely the opposite. In this scene from the pilot of “Buffy,” the heroine is introduced to Angel, a handsome young man who seems to come in the guise of an ally, but is deliberately enigmatic and mysterious in his behavior, even going so far as to taunt Buffy even as he vaguely offers her assistance:

ANGEL: I'm a friend.
BUFFY: Yeah, well, maybe I don't want a friend.
ANGEL: I didn't say I was yours.

DIALOG AS AN INDIVIDUAL CHARACTER REVEAL

The fascinating thing about dialog is that it can be about one thing on the surface, and another thing entirely underneath. All sexual banter and repartee hinges on the double entendré, but it is less understood that this form of speaking can be used for a multiplicity of other purposes. The Danish film DANCER IN THE DARK uses back-and-forth dialog about a specific subject to establish the mindset of the character Selma about life itself:

Selma: You like the movies, don’t you?
Bill: I love the movies. I just love the musicals.
Selma: But isn’t it annoying when they do the last song in the films?
Bill: Why?
Selma: Because you just know when it goes really big… and the camera goes like out of the roof… and you just know it’s going to end. I hate that. I would leave just after the next to last song… and the film would just go on forever.

DIALOG AS CHARACTER'S THROUGH LINE

A through line is defined as “a connecting theme, plot, or characteristic in a film, television series, book, etc.” Sometimes one does not require back and forth exchanges, but rather individual statements of dialog uttered by characters, to establish their entirely raison d'etre. Take this utterance from the character Amy Hastings in PERRY MASON, which defines her entire relationship with Ken Milansky, the man she desires as a husband.

“I intend to pursue you until you catch me.”

In the classic movie HEAT, several characters utter these sort of through-lines, including the film's protagonist, Vincent Hanna:

“All I am is what I'm after.”

Ditto the antagonist, Neil McCaulley:

“Don't let yourself get attached to anything you are not willing to walk out on in 30 seconds flat if you feel the heat around the corner.”

Even Homer Simpson can get in on the act:

“Just because I don't care doesn't mean I don't understand.”

DIALOG AS A MEANS OF ENDING A SCENE ON A NOTE OF TENSION

In NIGHT SINS, Tami Hoag works very hard to establish a sense of paranoia and menace in the little town of Deer Lake. Throughout the story, it is made clear that the antagonist is several steps ahead of the police, which adds to this menace. When one suspect is caught, rather than bringing relief to our protagonist, this exchange simply highlights the fact that the real culprit is still on the loose:

HANNAH GARRISON: Ollie Swain had something to do with my son's disappearance, and I hope he's roasting in hell.
MEGAN O'MALLEY: Oh, I believe he's roasting in hell. But he's saving a seat for someone.

DIALOG AS THIRD-PARTY CHARACTER REVEAL

One seldom-if-ever-discussed possibility for dialog is the third-party character reveal. We have often observed how dialog works to reveal the traits and personalities of those involved in the exchange, but it can also be used to flesh out characters not in scene. A fine example from TOMBSTONE:

WYATT EARP: What makes a man like Ringo, Doc? What makes him do the things he does?
DOC HOLIDAY: A man like Ringo is born with a great big hole at the center of him. He can't kill enough or steal enough or inflict enough pain to ever fill it.
WYATT EARP: What is he after?
DOC HOLIDAY: Revenge.
WYATT EARP: For what?
DOC HOLIDAY: Being born.

DIALOG AS CONFESSIONAL

Confession is good for the soul: it is also good, actually great and quite necessary, for our protagonists and our heroes. Confession of past sins and present weaknesses makes them relatable even if they are not necessarily likeable. In this exchange from THE UNTOUCHABLES, Elliot Ness, a proud and righteous man, confesses that he cannot take down Al Capone by his own resources; Jimmy Malone confesses a much more shameful motive in his reply:

ELLIOT NESS: You want to stay on the beat? You do that. If you'd like to come with me, I need your help. I'm askin' you for help.
JIMMY MALONE: Well...that's the thing you fear, isn't it? Mr Ness, l wish I'd met you ten years and...twenty pounds ago. But...I just think it got...more important to me...to stay alive. And that's why l'm walkin' the beat. Thank you, no.

DIALOG AS PSYCHOTHERAPY

Sometimes a character is, willingly or unwillingly, coming to a realization of some kind or another. This truth lies within themselves, but is not exposed by their own words but rather by those of a second, perhaps hostile party, who cuts into their defenses as if with a scalpel to exorcise the painful reality. No finer example of this can be found than in this “therapy session” between Buffy Summers and her perennial nemesis, the vampire Spike. Buffy, coming off a near-death experience, wants Spike to explain how he was able to kill two of her predecessors. His reply forces her worst fears to the surface:

Spike: The first [Slayer I killed] was all business, but the second -- she had a touch of your style. She was cunning, resourceful... oh, did I mention? Hot. I could have danced all night with that one.
Buffy: You think we're dancing?
Spike: That's all we've ever done. And the thing about the dance is, you never get to stop. Every day you wake up, it's the same bloody question that haunts you: "Is today the day I die?" Death is your art. You make it with your hands, day after day. That final gasp. That look of peace. Part of you is desperate to know: "What's it like? Where does it lead you?" And now, you see, that's the secret. Not the punch you didn't throw, or the kicks you didn't land. She merely wanted it. Every Slayer... has a death wish. Even you. The only reason you've lasted as long as you have is you've got ties to the world...your mum, your brat kid sister, the Scoobies. They all tie you here, but you're just putting off the inevitable. Sooner or later, you're gonna want it. And the second- the second - that happens... you know I'll be there. I'll slip in... have myself a real good day. Here endeth the lesson. I just wonder if you'll like it as much as she did.

This is a fine piece of writing that allows us deep character analysis of our heroine without restorting to painful expositon. Even better, it provides insight which comes through the heroine's worst enemy, which makes it at once all the more honest and all the more possibly innacurate. There is no doubt Spike believes it: but is it true?

DIALOG TO ESTABLISH MENACE

We have already observed how dialog can end a scene on a note of tension, but tension -- and a sense of menace -- can be injected anywhere in a sequence with the right words. One underused technique is that of the rhetorical question. Take this, from THE HOBBIT:

Gandalf the Gray: The Ringwraiths have been summoned to Dol Guldur.
Radagast the Brown: But it cannot be the Necromancer. A human sorcerer could not summon such evil.
Gandalf the Gray: Who said it was human?

In this tete-a-tete from THE KEEP, two opposing worldviews clash in the form of Woermann, a humane German officer who hates the Nazis, and Kaempfer, an SS officer with absolute faith in the power of violence and terror. Kaempfer has arrived at the Keep not knowing what Woermann has come to suspect: that the guerillas killing the German soldiers is not a person at all, but a bloodthirsty supernatural entity. Kaempfer executes three innocent villagers as a show of force, and the proceeds to lecture Woermann on how to handle a restive populace:

KAEMPFER: Your security doesn't work because your methods are wrong. The answer's fear, Woermann. From now on, these partisans will be afraid to kill, because they will fear the price their actions cause these villagers to pay.
WOERMANN: Now listen, something else is killing us. And if it doesn't care about the lives of three villagers...if it is like you...then does your fear work? Take that brilliant thought back to Dachau when you go. If you go. Because here in this keep, Major Kaempfer, you may learn something new.

Likewise, in THE OMEN PART II, the putative young antichrist, Damien Thorn, does not yet understand that he is a supernatural being, so one of his Satanic protectors guides him toward a dark epiphany:

Sergeant Neff: The day will come when everyone will know who you are, but that day is not yet here.
Damien Thorn: What do you mean?
Sergeant Neff: There are things you don't understand. Read your Bible. In the New Testament, there is a Book of Revelation. For you, it is just that - a book of revelation. For you. About you. Read it. 13th chapter. Read. Learn. Understand.
Damien Thorn: What am I supposed to understand?
Sergeant Neff: Who you are.

DIALOG AS WORLDVIEW

The following are examples which show how humor, cruelty, sarcasm, etc. can reveal the essence of how a character looks at the world:

(From PERRY MASON:)

ADRIAN LYE: Champagne?
DAVID KINGSMAN: Alcohol dulls the senses.
ADRIAN LYE: That is the entire point.

(From DA VINCI'S INQUEST:)

Chick Savoy: The things people throw away!
Angela Cosmo: People, too.

(From ARACHNOPHOBIA:)

JENNINGS: Be careful with this. Chateau Margeaux, $127 a bottle.
MOVER: Tasty, huh?
JENNINGS: At that price, who can afford to drink it?

(From ANGEL:)

CORDELIA: I will not give up this apartment!
ANGEL: It's haunted.
CORDELIA: It's rent controlled!

DIALOG AS A DUEL BETWEEN CHARACTERS

Drama is conflict, and it follows that to have drama, characters must be in tension with each other: but tension can exist between characters who are lovers, friends and allies just as it can exist between enemies: the crucial difference is that "friendly" tension generally has a more constructive purpose within the story. From the writer's standpoint, it can be used to build a relationship between fellow protagonists. This "duel" of personalities is creation through friction. In the film CITIZEN X, much of the story rides on the tension between Burkov, an obsessed detective with zero diplomatic instincts or tact, and Fetisov, a smooth-talking bureacrat. Here, Fetisov decides to gently put Burkov in his place while also revealing to the audience his own position in society, his sense of self-grandeur, and his wit:

BURKOV: The killer finds them on Electrichka. I know it. Electrichka, the trains that criss cross rural Russia.
FETISOV: I know what they are, Comrade. I don't ride them, but they do sometimes get in the way of my limousine.

But it is also possible for both characters to win a pointed exchange and reveal their world-views in the bargain:

BURKOV: You think a man is what he says, don't you, Colonel?
FETISOV: He is, if he talks for a living.

Here the writer establishes, in just 19 words, a) Burkov's contempt for Fetisov, b) Burkov's grasp of human nature, c) Fetisov's cleverness, d) Fetsiov's understanding of the Soviet system, in which words often have to substitute for deeds -- or goods.

Fellow protagonists can, of course, have more destructive relationships with each other than the above-exampled. In this scene from WHEN TRUMPETS FADE, the salient characteristic of the movie's unhappy antihero, Sgt. David Manning, is his overwhelming desire to survive. This clashes with the necessity of soldiers in battle to be selfless, a fact his platoon leader, Lt. Lukas, understands all too well:

MANNING: What do you want?
LUKAS: I want your help!
MANNING: Look, if I can help you in any way, without endangering my own life, I won't hesitate. If you want my opinion, I'll give it to ya. But I'm not takin' a bullet for anybody.
LUKAS: That's not good enough.
MANNING: That's as good as it gets.

This conversation is overheard by Manning's sole remaining friend, the medic Chamberlain, who then confronts Manning:

CHAMBERLAIN: When you're out there with your guts hanging out, screaming for help -- if there's any way I can save you without endangering my own life, I won't hesitate.

The difference here is important. When Manning tells Lukas he will not risk his own life to help anyone else, he is telling the truth. When Chamberlain throws Manning's words back in his face and implies he will leave Manning to die if Manning is injured, the audience knows that Chamberlain is probably lying: unlike Manning, whose survival instincts have obliterated his sense of decency, Chamberlain probably could not leave a wounded man on the field.

You will see, looking back on this dithyramb, that my selections are wide-ranging yet hardly comprehensive. or even systematic. It would take an entire book, and a lengthy one at that, covering not only film, television and radio but novels, plays and short stories, to explore to the fullest degree to which dialog can be exploited to develop characterization in a swift, efficient and arresting manner. My point here is simply to remind the reader that it is possible to establish the personalities, quirks, eccentricities, failings, grievances and so forth of their characters without resorting to blunt exposition or worn-out stylistic tricks. The guiding principle of the writer, beginning any scene, ought to be, "How can I make this character seem real, distinct, and interesting, in the shortest possible time?" Dialog is not the only tool in the arsenal to accomplish this, but it is a formiddable one whose powers have long been underappreciated.