Chekhov’s Gun
What is Chekhov’s gun?
Why, it’s a phaser, of course. Keeps it right at his side in case Captain Kirk needs somebody shot. Stun a murderous Klingon, zap a traitorous Romulan, take a know-it-all Vulcan down a peg or two. That sort of thing.
And no, he never plays Russian Roulette with it. That’s just plain sil…
What was that?
We’re not talking about Pavel Chekov?
We’re talking about Anton Chekhov? The writer?
Now isn’t that a kick in the teeth.
Anton Chekhov wrote many a play and story. But what he is best known for is the following statement, called Chekhov’s Gun:
If in Act I you have a pistol hanging on the wall, then it must fire in the last act.
Or words to that effect. He seemed to like this advice and said it in several different ways.
To put Chekhov’s Gun in simpler terms: Don’t make a stink about something that doesn’t matter. It’s not bad advice, really. In any type of story, no matter what form, information must do one or more of the following things:
- It must be important to the plot in some way (i.e. foreshadowing an event later on in the tale)
- It must contribute to the over all mood of the story
- It must tell something about a character or an environment
Otherwise it’s dead wood and should be trimmed. Every word tells.
Chekhov’s Gun, of course, applies to the first item on the list. It’s a form of foreshadowing, letting the reader know about a forthcoming event. It can work as a means of generating suspense. It can also lay the ground work for a reversal of fate, to get rid of the horrible aftertaste of Deus Ex Machina.
Like many things, if it’s done poorly, it just ruins all the suspense and drama. The experienced audience can and will pick up on such signals. The wise writer uses Chekhov’s Gun subtly, or twists expectations (the gun fails to fire when it needs to, as an example.)
Well now wasn’t that fun? Next time, we’ll talk about Pavel’s Dog, which, if I remember my Star Trek Lore right, is a Organian terrier that developed an unnatural attachment to Spock’s br…
What’s that?
You’re saying I’m thinking of Pavlov’s dog?
That can’t be right…
Yet again father strikes.
1 To put Chekhov’s Gun in its most simplest terms…
2 To put Chekhov’s Gun in its simplest terms…
3 To put Chekhov’s Gun in its most simple terms…
Two of the above sentence fragments are correct.
One is not.
Can you guess which one is wrong?
Your ever figilant father
I’m not even going to both humiliating myself further by guessing. I’ve made a correction that’ll solve the problem.
I hope.
In my defense, “take a know-it-all Vulcan down a peg or two” used to be “take a no-it-all Vulcan down a peg or two.” I caught that one myself, at least.
…
…
…
I’m not making my position any better, am I?
I bet if the Vulcans run things, they’ll be no-it-alls. “No, you can’t do that. It isn’t logical. Next! No, you can’t do that, either. Next!”
The thing about Checkov’s Gun is that there’s the temptation to draw too much attention to it. You shouldn’t give away the final act just by the set decorations in the first. The trick is to present a number of details, some of which are relevant and some of which are just interesting filler, and let the story highlilght the important ones.