So, we’ve had a brief look at stories that stress the individual versus the collective, and the individual against the state. Another class of interactions is all to do with the individual who makes their own way in the world — and may be inclined to toss you a bone if you fall in line with their goals. This is the domain of the deal maker, the hustler, the mercurial figure who always seems to come out on top, even if they’re hankering after an even bigger score.

It’s an archetype that has a particular appeal to filmmakers, since it’s the one that has most resonance with what it’s like to conjure a film into existence. I got an insight into how this worked with a director I worked with years ago, who — when I commented that he must be tempted to shout at people sometimes — confidently stated that he got what he wanted without raising his voice. He did too, pulling off all manner of deals from getting a modestly budgeted short shot on 35mm to persuading a well known actor to play a key role in it in his days off from a feature being shot 200 miles away. I spent a day in the production office, stacked full of cans of fizzy drink and crisps as the result of some or other sponsorship arrangement. Sponsoring who, for what, I wondered…a question that was never truly resolved — but the food and drink was welcome on set.

It’s not far from such shenanigans to the heist movie, which I’m convinced filmmakers like because pulling off a heist is an artform close to their own. Look at what’s going on in Ocean’s Eleven and there’s an aura of smugness that comes from people being selfconsciously hip — the same toecurling vibe that afflicts some of the scenes in Swingers, itself all to do with wannabe-cool dudes getting what they want in their very narrow version of life.

In a more mature form, this world of deals and getting ahead is examined in Michael Clayton, Up In The Air and Glengarry Glen Ross. Those stories explore the personal cost of looking to be one up all the time, of edging forward without having a more holistic view of the world that helps characters realise the essential poverty of what they’re engaged in. You could say it’s a theme of Clooney’s, who features in the first two of those films — it’s a dilemma he recognises personally, and has resolved by investing in socially conscious projects like Syriana and Good Night and Good Luck alongside those that make the most of his matinee idol looks.

Not that such characters and stories are restricted to the here and now. Where would Star Wars be without the swagger that Han Solo brings to the story? He’s the urban fox to Luke’s farm boy, and that dynamic is a powerful one — especially when you slap an impressionable young princess in the middle of it. Legal dramas occupy this space to some extent too, at least where the wiliness of the law professionals is emphasised. And there are, of course, hybrids with the other templates we’ve looked at: Phil Silvers as Sgt Bilko up against the rigid rules of the army makes me laugh like few other tv comedies, and some of Woody Allen’s work is about what happens when fast talkers come up against more rooted family structures.

Whatever permutations you can think of, someone will have got there first. But that’s not the point. The idea is that these archetypes can help you develop your story to get the most out of it. To exploit the potential of a religious community setting, a character who likes to get her own way and now inhabits a situation where those impulses have legal consequences…whatever the dynamic, thinking about the way it plays out in the framework explored in these last three posts will — hopefully — be of benefit.