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The lookout character analysis

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The lookout character analysis

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Content

THE LOOKOUT

CHARACTER ANALYSIS

by

Jennifer Elizabeth Kolmel

____________________________________________________________________

A Thesis Presented to the
FACULTY OF THE ROSKI SCHOOL OF FINE ARTS
UNIVERSITY OF SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA
In Partial Fulfillment of the
Requirements for the Degree
MASTER OF FINE ARTS
FINE ARTS

August 2007

Copyright 2007 Jennifer Elizabeth Kolmel

ii

Table of Contents

Abstract iii
Chapter 1: Introduction 1
The Lookout Boys: Henry and Michael 5
The Dining Room Table: Peter and Ursula 11
Bibliography 18

iii

Abstract
In the Spring of 2007, I wrote and directed the original play The Lookout at the
University of Southern California, Roski School of Fine Arts Gallery. The play was rooted
in the fundamental concept that there are a definitive amount of ideological perspectives in
life. The script used historical texts as examples to juxtapose these philosophical concerns as
a means to discuss the rewards and repercussions of living life by different ideologies. A
wide range of literary writings were unearthed from their historical, cultural and political
context and sorted into what I define as six fundamental categories: the hermit, the traveler,
the scholar, the naturalist, the idealist, and the capitalist. In the writing of The Lookout these
‘categories’ were transformed into 'characters'; the gathered literary texts of each category
became the sculpted dialogue for each character.
Contrary to the tradition of script writing, I wrote my play backwards. I began with
the actual dialogue (coming directly from literary texts) and from there derived characters. In
this written thesis, I focused on defining four characters from the original play,as a means to
explore and further solidify my theory on definitive perspectives. This thesis as a whole
consists of an introduction that discusses the necessity of character development, followed
by two short stories about characters in the play The Lookout.

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Introduction
Veteran screenwriter Syd Field is considered by many in Hollywood as the authority
on the craft of screenwriting. He is a prolific screenwriter who has created, and continues to
create, an inexhaustible line of introductory learning tools for beginning screenwriters. He
tours with lectures and workshops and produces a litany of original books, instructional
CD’s, and online tutorials. Before he built his dynasty as a screenwriter, Syd Field lived and
worked as a trained actor. His training as an actor proved to be a seminal experience as it
provided him with the tools necessary to understanding character. In his book “Screenplay:
The Foundations of Screenwriting,” he states: “Character is the essential foundation of your
screenplay. It is the heart and soul and nervous system of your story. Before you put a word
on paper, you must know your character.”
I have actor training, and when I read his books a few years ago I thought his
approach to screenwriting was very sound. Yet, when I began to write and piece together my
script for The Lookout, I completed it with little consideration to who the characters were.
The first time I wrote about the characters was in my online call for actors. It included the
age and ethnicity of the character and one sentence about their role in the play. The character
description was used to attract an actor; the description was nothing more than a strategy.
I knew what I was doing. I had the script I wanted. The script borrowed and resorted
literary texts as a means to organize pre-existing ideas into groups and to juxtapose
philosophical concerns. Literary writings were unearthed from their context, and sorted into
distinct categories. These categories represented fundamentally different perspectives on life.
Each category functioned as a proposal for a different way of living. In the writing of the
script, these ‘categories’ of texts were transformed into dialogue for characters. The
characters were better understood as ideas than as anything modeled from a living and

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breathing thing. Collectively, the characters represented stations in life, or possible options
for living that any one person might choose. The characters, like the actors, were vehicles to
represent something else. The characters were not in and of themselves important.
After viewing the play and seeing the actors give life to the words, I felt that some of
the lines were incongruent. This was a surprising reaction. If the characters were truly
subservient to the text, how could any dialogue seem awkward or unmotivated? The truth of
the matter was that a 'character' had been constructed, first by the actor and then by the
audience. During rehearsals I had a hard time explaining some of the text to the actors, they
could understand where it came from but at times found it challenging to perform. I
explained to them that the collection of literary texts behind each character formed a
cohesive argument. Still, there were a few texts that demanded more time and guidance with
the actors during rehearsal. What the actors had noticed, before I had, was that the
character's dialogue was not totally cohesive. There were connections between texts that
seemed weak or ill communicated. They had come to this conclusion through focusing on
the 'characters'.
What their performance helped me understand was that a story, realistic or
fantastical, required the characters in a narrative to have a background. These backgrounds
usually take the form of stories within stories that can inform the language of the script and
help facilitate the actors in approaching the text. Besides helping the actor, these character
backgrounds function to inform the writer in the creation of dialogue and motivated actions.
I had assumed that because I had my dialogue already (source material drawn directly from
literary works), I did not need to pay attention to character background. It was the act of
directing that taught me the inverse of my assumptions. I found that I could improve my
script if I focused on the ‘characters’. This shift in focus would guide me to make more

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informed decisions in choosing literary texts to draw from, thereby solidifying the
'categories,' (i.e. philosophical concerns) proposed in the play.
I took the writing of this thesis as an opportunity to reflect upon and improve the
philosophical arguments proposed in my work The Lookout. In order to do this I created
background for the main characters in the play. This thesis as a whole is composed of this
introduction in conjunction with two short stories about central characters: Michael and
Henry at the lookout and Ursula and Peter at the dining room table. These stories are about
these characters, their relationships, where they are now and how, in part, they got there. The
two stories also directly reference and elaborate on some of the language and literary
references used by the characters in the original play.
Traditionally speaking this is not how you would write character background. I did
not use descriptive language to deliver an action-based story. I did not write about the
schools each person attended, the issues surrounding their first love, or a traumatic incident
that occurred in their adolescence. My approach was different because the characters in my
play do not come from a specific time or place. Instead, the characters are a bit fantastical,
and act in a manner that is in keeping with their 'nature'. All of them are made up of different
natures, even different chemicals; they are biologically distinct creatures that are prone
towards certain actions and bear strong inclinations. Their fundamental essences are born in
them and cannot be explained away by a long line of incidents. Their histories are important,
but their determination and stubbornness are ingrained.
These short stories bring The Lookout full circle. To write the original script I
unearthed literary works and stripped them of an association limited to one author and one
biography. To write these stories I took the literary works and bound them back into the
body of one person; I gave them a home in a new character with an imagined biography.
This exercise brought attention to the flaws in the script, and if I were to perform the play

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again, I would rewrite most of it. I would use my understanding of my characters as a guide
in selecting appropriate literary works. The resulting play would bear the odd characteristics
of a character driven plot created from source material of famous literary works.
A script with cohesive and motivated dialogue would illuminate the concepts behind
the play. A defined character could draw from a wide variety of literary texts and still deliver
a cohesive argument for a way of life. A cohesive argument would give light to the
associations between the quoted material; thereby drawing attention to the reoccurrence of
philosophical concerns in history and the rewards and repercussions of living life by
different ideologies.

5
The Lookout Boys: Henry and Michael
On top of the hill, just outside of town there is a small one-room cabin. Built simply
and carefully. It has stood for 10 years, and looks as if it has always been there, as if the trees
and other brushes had no choice but to grow around it. It is as sparse inside as the outside
promises. Although sparse, the interior of the home is as warm and accommodating as the
man who occupies it. Henry is a strong, friendly and sensible man, a man whom few knew
but many knew of. Henry was a young man, at least younger then his reputation, for he had
been there as long as anyone could remember. Children who had become parents, who had
become grandparents, would tell their grandchildren that the cabin belonged to a man named
Henry who lived just outside of the town, on the edge of the woods, and on top of the hill.
Although known, Henry was not an exceptional man. There are no stories about
Henry. Far from folklore, he was the man who occupied a home. And, if it were not for
common curiosity of the woods and the hills, he might have altogether been forgotten about.
There had always been a Henry. But not this Henry. Not that it mattered all that
much, except for our story. Henry, this Henry (our Henry), had surprised himself one day
upon discovering that he could not recall his last name. It had been many years since anyone
bothered to ask and now the word sat like an old odd memory. The loss of his name did
bother him. Henry, a man seldom swayed was deeply troubled by so carelessly losing the
oldest thing he owned. It did not plague him; Henry was not a man to be plagued. Yet
truthfully, it was a recurring thought, and one of the only ones that carried a sense of history
or sadness. He feared he would forget his age or where he lived or most importantly why.
And he pledged to himself that if he ever began to forget too much (and be ill-disposed
enough to remember forgetting) he would leave his home. Like an old dog he would venture
off to die alone. Henry, although a philosopher of sorts, was quiet in personal matters. He

6
was not one to bring up such childish or frivolous thoughts. He was not a complainer,
although he did tend to stew. The whole thing could perhaps have consumed him (contrary
to the fact that he was not one so inclined) if it weren’t for a few jugs of Michael Tanner’s
ale. One evening Michael turned to him and said “Have you really run out of things to think
about Henry? What good is a name? I’ll tell you what, the day I can’t think of a goddamn
thing to remember (can’t think of anything worth remembering) other than my name.
Well…”
But Michael ended it there, and trailed off silently and stared into the woods. And it
was not his intonation that gave weight to his words, but instead his sudden and unexpected
burst of silence (contrary to the fact that Michael was not inclined to be quiet). This struck
them both as unusual and gave the whole thing a certain levity. The conversation put Henry
in such a good mood that, and from there on out, he just forgot to ever remember to think
about forgetting his last name again.
Henry and Michael were close friends, which seemed particularly odd considering
how different they were. Michael was the oldest son in the Tanner family, which totaled five
boys and two girls. The importance and levity usually placed upon the eldest son began to
dissipate as his second, third, and then fourth brother arrived. The whole matter was of great
relief to Michael, who did not have the interest or inclination for work or responsibility. Not
a dumb or skilless man, Michael was cursed by being blessed with the utterly useless talents
of thinking and talking. Most people found his company tiresome, which would have
bothered him had he been disposed to care about feelings. His intelligent, talkative and
idealistic nature often grated on the townspeople who frowned upon his life, seemingly
dedicated to doing nothing in particular. Even with all the brothers and sisters and their
excellent social standing, his father felt that the family’s reputation was sullied by their son’s
aimlessness. So Michael, tired of their complaints, left home and headed off to the closest

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city. He found himself a teaching position at the University there, very unusual for his young
age, and taught infrequently and when the mood struck. He mentioned his job to his parents
in his typical lackadaisical fashion, and his parent’s responded in their typical fashion by
nodding their heads while not believing any of it. His mother was glad to see him happy, and
his father was glad to see less of him. The townspeople took Michael’s absence as a sign of
him doing something useful. They knew nothing of what he did while not in town, and cared
even less than they knew.
Michael was surprised to see his presence at home met with little opposition. The
issue of a ‘job’ or ‘useful thing’ seemed to have been resolved for both his parents and the
community, and so with total ease he returned back to his parent’s home for good. The
subject was never brought up again. It was around this time that Michael, bored with the
townspeople, began to spend increasing amounts of time wandering about on his own. One
day he came upon Henry near the woods, on top of a hill, on the outskirts of town and they
became friends instantly. From then on out, Michael would venture off to see Henry every
few days.
It would have been a funny match in the townspeople’s eyes. Henry, a man who was
always here, and Michael, a man who was somewhere else. In fact, Henry and Michael
would have seemed like an odd pair for many reasons: one was resourceful, the other lazy,
one had a reputation, the other no history at all, one was a man of nature the other a man of
thought. They would have seemed an odd pair to everyone in town, if anyone in town had
cared at all.
Michael and Henry shared a love for thinking, true. But it was Henry who first
introduced Michael to watching. The position of Henry’s home, on top of the hill, at the edge
of the woods on the outskirts of town created the perfect vantage point for watching the
comings and goings of people, animals, seasons, and clouds. From Henry’s home they could

8
watch just about anything. In fact, when Michael first found Henry he said hello and even
before asking his name, he asked Henry (who he didn’t know was Henry at the time) what
he was doing. Henry replied “Watching Men.” And then Michael, being particularly keen to
word games and puns (which was not one of his more likeable traits), laughed a bit too
loudly and called Henry a ‘watchmen’. Michael, who was used to being ignored, was
surprised when Henry responded. The conversation became increasingly ridiculous, and it
went something like this:

Henry: I’m only one. One man. So I’d be a watchman

Michael: Well! [Surprised to be challenged and excited by what he takes as an intellectual
dual, Michael steps closer to the much larger Henry (still not knowing him as Henry)] YES!
You are one man. But you are watching MEN. Is a ‘birdwatcher’ a bird? A ‘dog walker’ a
dog?

Henry: [Surprised, and titillated by such an usual engagement] Ok. So… there are many
types of birds, yes?

Michael: But of course

Henry: And many types of dogs?

Michael: Of course. I’d dare to say equally as many. Although that would be presuming I am
an expert in the field. And although I am an expert in THIS field [motioning to the hill
around them] I know very little of dogs and birds. But yes! There are many.

9

Henry: So, then why is a man that watches birds, not a ‘birdswatcher’? Or why is ONE man
not a ‘birdwatchers’?

Michael: Ah… Very well. [He paces, thinking about his next move]

Henry: Ah… Friend, why don’t you watch the men with me? And then we can be
‘watchmen’. [Michael brightens up at his invitation, forgetting the game altogether] I’m
Henry

Michael: Michael

And with that began their friendship and the infinitely interesting, and equally as
annoying word and logic games.
What Michael instantly loved about Henry was his stoic elegance. He wrote journals
of observations and daily musings, which Michael begged to have him publish, but to no
avail. Henry’s writing had a simple and soulful quality that Michael likened to Thoreau;
Michael assumed that Henry had never read Thoreau (or much of anything really). Henry
always smiled at the mention of the author’s name, because he was in fact a big fan of the
writings of Thoreau, Emerson and Muir but never said a word about it to Michael. Not
because he was concerned to be compared to the likes of them, or worse yet their influence.
But simply because Henry did not want to talk to anyone about his authors’ lovely words. It
was left unspoken and unsoiled, safe and perfect in secret.
What Henry instantly loved about Michael was his excited passion for thoughts.
Thoughts in all sizes, shapes and colors. Michael would jump in and out of thoughts, linking

10
the likeness of Henry to Thoreau, Thoreau to his third brother, his brother to a student he
once had at the University, then to a leaf on the ground and on to his love for seasons then
hastily switch to short prose then he would direct his attention to the ridiculous sunset then
back to a leaf on the ground which would remind him of stories about explorers and then
eventually talk about talk. And then it would be dark and they would part ways and Michael
would head home. Michael was so used to no one listening that he often assumed that Henry
did not listen. But, he was wrong. Henry did listen. Henry was sometimes intrigued by
Michael’s ramblings and sometimes bored by them. But all in all, Henry who loved and
honored the balance of nature, of all things great and small, was particularly keen to hear
everything be spoken about with total democracy.
Henry and Michael would agree that everything was important. Michael would want
to say it, think about, mull it over and come across it again with a triumphant ah-ha! As if he
invented the whole question and answer himself. As if his exclamation gave birth to a whole
new galaxy of things. Henry would want to see it, want to touch it and want to ruminate
about it over a few days until he felt that he understood it. There was a gentleness to his
solutions, coupled with the satisfaction in knowing that he was fully right, completely right,
and that the case was settled and the problem resolved.
The most honest way to analyze their friendship rests in the bond they share for their
love and total talent for always being right.

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The Dining Room Table: Peter and Ursula
A Washer/Dryer set is a derogatory label put on couples that look and act similarly.
These are couples that do everything together and appear to act in unison towards a common
goal. They are a couple whose names become condensed: ‘We should of course invite
Matdonna (or Stevelyn or Michaelangela)… They are such a nice couple. So considerate of
one another’s feelings. Right dear?’ These couples have all the same friends. The only time
they separate socially is when their married friends insist in engaging in gendered affairs
such as ‘Movie Night’ for the women or ‘Poker Night’ for the men. Matdonna and the other
sets think these nights are silly and don’t enjoy them, but they engage in such activities
because they believe it is important to foster strong friendships.
And, truth be told, they are very good friends to have. Stevelyn will pick you up
from the airport, lend you money, cat-sit, or be the designated driver for an evening. Seeing
as how these washer/dryer sets were such kind friends, it was a rather unfortunate fact that
their friendship had a tendency to create disorder or divorce amongst their friends. This was
due, in part, to the fact that the men of these washer/dryer sets raised the bar too high. The
other married women would fret, “Why don’t we do those things” “Have we ever?” “Are we
a bad match” “Are we even in love?” and then a longer pause turning into anger … “David
doesn’t… (blah blah blah).” No regular married man could withstand that comparison. The
married women would swoon over the men of Matdonna, Stevelyn and Michaelangela and
comment often and loudly about how ‘well-mannered’ and ‘considerate’ these men were.
Their husbands would call these men “pussies”
In truth, the men of Matdonna, Stevelyn and Michaelangela were ‘well-mannered
considerate pussies.’

12
And so, when our protagonists Ursula and Peter invited Michaelangela over for
dinner, everyone took it as the death knoll to their marriage. That evening the dinner table
conversation went something like this:

Peter: Michaelangela, would you two like some wine?

Michaelangela: Yes, sounds delightful!

Peter: I just picked this bottle up today. It’s a light and lovely wine from the south of France,
Bordeaux.

Ursula: Oh! Peter, when did you get fancy about wine? [turning to Michaelangela] This
never happens. [She picks up the bottle and looks at it] Well, it’s only a few years old, Mr.
Fancy.

Peter: It's suppose to be, it’s a young wine. Oh, honestly Ursula. It’s from today’s luncheon
at work, it was catered and all: Deviled eggs, chicken on sticks. MMM. Some people huff
and puff in the office, they hate these kind of affairs, call them “feel goods” and babble on
about it being a real good waste of time. But I'll tell you, there is nothing like some finger
foods and a little wine to make a man feel appreciated. (Laughs to himself)

Ursula: You stole wine from a work function? Are you fucking crazy?

Peter: Ursula [calm and endearing tone]… the event was over. I asked the caterer and he
gave me two bottles. Told me a little bit about them.

13

Ursula: Well, I’m sure your boss didn’t know he gave them to you. [Turning to
Michaelangela] Imagine that, Mr. Bellows walking out to the parking lot, and then Peter
waves to him with a bottle of wine in each hand. He certainly wouldn’t know the difference.

Peter: Well, that’s not what happened. And what does it matter? [Peter raises his glass in the
air] to delightful wine! [Everyone toasts, Ursula does so begrudgingly. Peter then turns to
Ursula] and delightful company.

Ursula: Well [to Michaelangela] he certainly does like his wine. Nobody’s ever doubted that.
I grew up in a Brandy household. My father would come home after some long work trip,
and my mother would bring him his Brandy. Never saw the man drunk. Couldn’t ask for a
better dad. He’d never parade around with stolen goods- and he wonders why he’s not
promoted.

Peter: Christ! Drop it Ursula. You’re being a real cunt.

Eventually this proved too much for the delicate ears and sensibilities of
Michaelangela. They left within a half an hour of arriving. Michealangela made a short
speech about how rude Peter and Ursula were to one another, and called them impossible to
be around. This was a fight they should not have started. Ursula blew up at Michaelangela
and started to call them every filthy vulgar thing she could think of. Comparing the likes of
them to robots, con artists, politicians, sneaks, snitches, liars, weaklings, and referred to their
friendship as a particularly heinous venereal disease.
Michaelangela left and Ursula and Peter felt triumphant. They sat themselves down to

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the lovely meal and finished off the other bottle of wine. That night they made love with
vigorous abandon.
Peter and Ursula were an odd pair. They had married quickly and on semi-false
grounds. Their courtship and marriage could best be understood as a series of small and
large misunderstandings.
Ursula is named after her mother Ursula Dolstof. Ursula Dolstof had done a very bold
thing for a young Russian girl from a small family who recently immigrated to America. As
an act of passion (and rebellion) Miss Dolstof ran off and married an American boy, the
young Richard Miller. At the age of 19 Ursula Dolstof became Ursula Miller. Richard Miller
was neither German nor English nor Polish nor French. Richard Miller, for as far as the
Dolstof's could tell, wasn't much of anything. Which was something that Ursula Miller
desperately wanted to be apart of.
So, when Ursula (our Ursula) married Peter, she took on his last name of Turner.
This marriage was far from an act of rebellion, an Ursula Miller becoming an Ursula Turner
was a pretty bland affair. Our Ursula had always assumed she would marry an American of
indiscernible background and had been looking for the right one. She had been waiting for a
sign. In the September 12th addition of the County Observer, page 3 there was an article
about county land development. The words "Breaking Land" appeared in large bold type
above a good-sized photograph of Peter Turner leaning on a shovel in front of an
undeveloped field. It was a particularly good picture of Peter, his wavy hair hung slightly
over one eye, and the manner in which he leaned on the shovel was casual, sexy and
brazenly cocky.
Ursula had found her man. Yet, the situation of the photograph and her impression
of Peter could not have been further from the truth. Peter was the secretary of the County
Council, and had been voted in based on the recommendation of the retiring Secretary and

15
septuagenarian, Ernest Adams. At the time, the council had come under fire, accused of
excessive and frivolous spending of funds and lack of responsibility towards their
constituents. Mr. Adams had seen his retirement and opening of his position as an
opportunity for the council to hire new blood. New, popular, likeable and photogenic blood-
the young Peter Turner.
Peter Turner was thrilled at the job offer, and took it as a testament to the success of
his half-baked projects: the recycling program, the median restoration effort, and his
attempts to raise funds for school murals. Peter was excited to receive acknowledgement and
his head filled with the tantalizing prospect that he could some day become supervisor of
something or other.
In his first few months as Secretary of the County Council he was photographed
many times, and was asked to attend a lot of social functions in which he was instructed to
maintain in public view and deliver short and charming speeches. Had Peter taken the
initiative to inquire about many of the Council's dealings, he would perhaps have on most
occasions declined to represent them. But Peter was a man neither prone to suspicion or
inquiry.
It was this time in his life that he met the lovely Ursula Miller. Ursula is not what
you would call a beautiful woman; she was pretty but not innocent and cute. But none of that
was the point. Ursula was an overwhelmingly sexy voluptuous lady with a penetrating glare.
The way she would walk, stare, talk or not talk drove men wild. And so, when she showed
up to a county council function, with full intention of claiming her Peter, there was no hope
for our Mr. Turner. Within a few months Peter Turner was a married man.
Although a rash decision, one could hardly call him ensnarled. Peter adored Ursula,
her life and her mother. He was a lover of Russian literature and was particular fond of what
he conceived to be Ursula's exotic heritage. Ursula cared nothing for this history, and

16
thought his whole preoccupation was silly. Yet, she was a smart woman, and although she
did not foster his behavior she knew better than to respond in an aggressive or disapproving
manner. This was because she could see that Peter’s love for Russian culture often resulted
in his desire to please, impress and connect with his wife. His romantic notions about
Russian literature became deeply engrained with his romantic feelings towards his Ursula.
And Ursula being a sensual woman, loved the romantic and sexual attention that “her”
culture afforded her.
As time went on and they both settled into their married lives, Ursula could not help
but notice that Peter seemed to have lost his ambition. She was bothered by the idea that she
had married a man who would never advance in his career. When they had met he appeared
to be a man with promising aspects. In the beginning, they had both assumed he would
become supervisor of something or another.
But as years passed, Peter became increasingly aware that his job was a farce. He
wielded very little authority on the County Council. The council had used him as a pretty
face for their questionable dealings, and he began making frequently more apologetic
speeches on their behalf. He had come to understand that his time with the council had
destroyed the good public image he once had had.
His dreams to become supervisor of something or other would require a radical
reworking of his public image. He would need to sever his ties with the council and redefine
himself. He would need to let everyone know who Peter Turner is, what Peter Turner stood
for, and what Peter Turner proposed to do.
The problem was, that that amount of rigorous public self re-definition required a
strong sense of purpose and a lot of drive. What Ursula, and Peter himself, had come to
discover was that Peter Turner was not, and had never been, a man of purpose or drive.

17
Upon this realization, the fighting began. This was not the man Ursula had thought
she had married. Ursula had wanted to marry a man like her father. She adored her very
American father Richard Miller. For her, he represented everything that was good and right
about America. He was a rugged individualist, a tried and true man, a brilliant inventor, a
bold entrepreneur, and a handsome provider for the family. But what she did not know about
her father was that in reality he was nothing like her impression of him.
Dick was a dreamer, a rambler, a philanderer and a likeable scoundrel. In the Miller
house the term ‘out of town on business’ was used to describe most of his dubious behavior:
his two-bit hustles, weekend romps with girlfriends, or in-town drinking binges from which
he knew better than to return home. Although he made a little money here and there, the
majority of the money came from the Dolstof family, who secretly footed the bill for most of
the family's expenses. What Ursula Turner would never discover was that her elevated
notions of her father were solely cultivated by her mother. Her mother was so disgusted by
the truth about her husband, that she had vowed not to burden her children with the reality
that their father was a total loser.
What would have come as a big surprise to Ursula Turner was the reality that she
had in fact married a better man than her father. For although Peter, like Dick, was aimless
and lacked ambition, her Peter was a kind and devoted man who loved her dearly.
Peter and Ursula had a good life. Even amidst all the anger and accusations
surrounding Peter’s career, it was clear (to no one but them) that they still loved one another
deeply. They were better off than most in a lot of ways and for Peter that was enough and for
Ursula that was totally unacceptable.

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2006.

Abstract (if available)

Abstract In the Spring of 2007, I wrote and directed the original play "The Lookout" at the University of Southern California, Roski School of Fine Arts Gallery. The play was rooted in the fundamental concept that there are a definitive amount of ideological perspectives in life. The script used historical texts as examples to juxtapose these philosophical concerns as a means to discuss the rewards and repercussions of living life by different ideologies. A wide range of literary writings were unearthed from their historical, cultural and political context and sorted into what I define as six fundamental categories: the hermit, the traveler, the scholar, the naturalist, the idealist and the capitalist. In the writing of "The Lookout" these 'categories' were transformed into 'characters'

Linked assets

University of Southern California Dissertations and Theses

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Asset Metadata

Creator Kolmel, Jennifer Elizabeth (author)

Core Title The lookout character analysis

School School of Fine Arts

Degree Master of Arts

Degree Program Fine Arts

Degree Conferral Date 2007-08

Publication Date 08/10/2007

Defense Date 07/02/2007

Publisher University of Southern California (original), University of Southern California. Libraries (digital)

Tag character breakdown,OAI-PMH Harvest,Performance

Language English

Advisor Lockhart, Sharon (committee chair), Flick, Robbert (committee member), Paull, Julia (committee member)

Creator Email kolmel@usc.edu

Permanent Link (DOI) https://doi.org/10.25549/usctheses-m787

Unique identifier UC1276833

Identifier etd-Kolmel-20070810 (filename),usctheses-m40 (legacy collection record id),usctheses-c127-537953 (legacy record id),usctheses-m787 (legacy record id)

Legacy Identifier etd-Kolmel-20070810.pdf

Dmrecord 537953

Document Type Thesis

Rights Kolmel, Jennifer Elizabeth

Type texts

Source University of Southern California (contributing entity), University of Southern California Dissertations and Theses (collection)

Repository Name Libraries, University of Southern California

Repository Location Los Angeles, California

Repository Email cisadmin@lib.usc.edu