Cinema has the power to transgress the notion of fixed identity in characters. Works like Lost Highway or The Matrix reveal that a character can be replaced, multiplied, or divided, shaking our certainties about identity and reaching into the depths of our unconscious.
What If We Were More Than Ourselves?
In the Western worldview—our perception of nature, life, and humanity—we identify a character in a film as a physical entity represented by an actor playing a role, with a name, a history, and a defined existence. But why limit ourselves to this vision? Why constrain reality? And why couldn’t a character be replaced by another who continues in their place?
This concept can be justified in certain narratives, such as stories about identity theft. However, in those cases, we are still dealing with two distinct individuals pretending to be someone else. Fundamentally, each character remains uniquely and unambiguously defined.
In Lost Highway by David Lynch (1997), a character is suddenly replaced by another at a certain point. This is deeply strange, intriguing, and unsettling. In less narrative-driven films, like Sayat Nova by Sergei Parajanov (1968), characters are not as psychologically defined—multiple actors can embody symbols connected to characters, but also to nature, art, history, and philosophy. It moves beyond the classical Greek myth structure of characters embarking on an adventure.
I have nothing against Greek myths, but they are not everything. As screenwriters, we can legitimately explore the replacement of a character within a traditional narrative structure, creating an effect of strangeness. We can also redefine the role of a character or their narrative occurrences within the story we choose to tell. A character can be multiplied, divided, reassembled, or undergo a shift in identity.
We see this in The Matrix Reloaded by the Wachowski siblings (2003), the second installment of the Matrix quadrilogy. Here, the antagonist has the ability to replace any character. This is rationally justified within the script, though it takes multiple viewings to fully grasp. Throughout the film, characters frequently change faces before our eyes. The antagonist himself can multiply into hundreds or thousands of identical versions, emphasizing his immense power. However, we still perceive him as a single entity despite his multiple manifestations.
While the justification exists within the narrative, it is not strictly necessary. To fully understand the story of The Matrix, one must delve deep into its layers; yet most viewers accepted the idea that a character could multiply, divide, switch places, or change identities without always needing an explicit explanation.
Beyond Rationality
In The Matrix, everything could potentially be explained. But in Lost Highway, the film offers no clear explanation—so the mystery remains intact. This deeply affects us because it challenges our Western certainties about personal unity. I find this a fascinating field to explore in screenwriting.
In cinema, we see characters as if they were real people. And yet, they take on a dreamlike dimension when we allow them to do things beyond the rational expectations of real life. This enables us to tap into profound aspects of human nature—reaching into the depths of our unconscious.
