SPECIAL EDITION WRITING TIPS

[SPOILERS AHEAD – BE WARNED]

In geometry terms, story structure can be defined as the distance from a starting point to an endpoint. In Richard Sarafian’s Vanishing Point, that structure gets turned on its head, emphasizing what would become an influential form of storytelling as well as asking the question: can a man be defined by a solitary moment?

Simply speaking, Vanishing Point is exactly what the title claims it to be: a point. But within that point are the events and risks taken by a single character known as Kowalski. (“First, middle, and last.”)

Kowalski’s life is a mosaic of broken images revealing dreams unfulfilled. He tries to live by his own sense of what’s right, but those efforts are usually stamped out by an establishment that refuses to accept him or his moral code.

Detailing Kowalski’s life, we see a breathtaking motorcycle wreck he inexplicably walks away from; a tragic relationship that ends in the drowning death of the only woman he’s ever loved; and a noble stand made against a crooked ex-partner that results in his dishonorable discharge from the police force.

The establishment doesn’t understand him, and it doesn’t accept him.

As a result Kowalski becomes the quintessential existentialist. His life will no longer be ruled by an outside system. He will live and die on his own terms in the front seat of a 1970 Dodge Challenger (“super-charged”), as he takes police on a wild car chase across Nevada for a fateful rendezvous in San Francisco. Along the way Kowalski’s priorities change as he realizes the impact his journey has on the rest of the world.

Cheered on by a blind, high-strung radio DJ (“Super Soul” – an amazing performance by Cleavon Little), Kowalski becomes a symbol for freedom from oppression for a lot of listeners. Helped along the way by a down-on-his-luck old-timer and a couple of outcast hippies, Kowalski finds kinship only with those who share his philosophy and his pain. But ultimately, Kowalski can live for just one person – himself – and it puts him in the driver’s seat to his destiny.

Just what will it cost him?

Those who don’t “get” Vanishing Point criticize its finale as being anti-climactic. However, if you’ve followed the film and its character every mile of their journey, you know what happens on the outskirts of San Francisco in the late hours of Sunday morning is a fitting and exciting fulfillment to the end of Kowalski’s long journey. It is a final stand Kowalski makes, this time answering to no one but himself.

Every time Segarini & Bishop’s “Over Me,” rolls out for Kowalski’s final ride, I tingle with freedom and the thrilling reality of what it’s like to truly live.

Sadness.

Fear.

Excitement.

As Kowalski hurtles toward his destination, we know what the next fleeting moments will bring. Odd – in these last seconds of Kowalski’s life he (and sympathetic viewers) feels more alive than any other point in the film.

Hardly an accident.

Kowalski is a man defined by a single event: his death. Without it, nothing else in his life matters. He cannot be taken alive, even though he has done nothing that would garner serious jail time. If Kowalski stops the car and gets out, he is arrested, slapped on the wrist, and released back into society to live his “life.” But he rejects society because it has rejected him.

What life would he have left if he gave in?

That last smile Kowalski gives is one of understanding. It wasn’t clear, even to him, till the moment he saw the bulldozers blocking out the road what must be done to achieve his goal. After the vanishing point comes, no one understands what to feel:

Law enforcement cannot figure out why a man would pick death over a harmless misdemeanor infraction.

Onlookers are numb.

And admirers – such as Super Soul – are angry Kowalski refuses to change his mind. They think he’s taken “the man” for one hell of a ride, but it’s time to stop and fall back in line. It’s hard to understand why death would be a viable option unless you’re inside Kowalski’s head. And Sarafian does a great job of putting us there.

What are the lessons learned from Vanishing Point?

• Stories need not be chronological.


• Flashbacks are okay. However, they must not be filler. They should be relevant to the character’s present.


• Characters must be active to be interesting. They should do things. They should have philosophies they stick to at all costs.

There is a reason Vanishing Point is remembered and embraced by legions of fans. There is a reason new audiences are discovering it every day. It’s an incredible story about being true to one’s self. Like Kowalski, it doesn’t always follow the rules of the road, but does a top-notch job of getting us where we need to go.