Robocop begins with the idea of a robotic police officer attempting to decode human behavior. Why do these people behave as they do?  This image fascinates co-writer Ed Neumeier, and he builds one of the greatest science fiction scripts of all time around that premise.  Neumeier elaborates on this idea with three more compelling ones:

• What if technology isn't part of the problem?
• What if the robots aren't coming to get us?
• What if we stopped opposing technology, and actually became part of it?  

The single commentary track for Criterion's Robocop features Neumeier and director Paul Verhoeven, as they guide the audience through the evolution of the film - from the concepts listed above to technical aspects, camera work, and the hidden allusions that push the film from popcorn action fare to richly layered storytelling.

These revelations, though geared toward the filmmaking process, offer comic book writers a catalyst for enriching their output and making the most of visual storytelling techniques.  As a sequential storyteller, I listen to this track and think of the following questions: 

• How do I build past the basic framework of my story?
• How do I add layers?
• How do I incorporate my beliefs and experiences into my narratives without beating the audience over the head with them?
• And how can I use effective filmmaking strategies in the creation of a comic book or graphic novel? 

(NOTE:  Criterion's DVD is now out-of-print, but MGM offers a special edition. Check for availability.) 

It always helps to know the method behind a creator's madness, if you're looking for ideas to ignite creativity and inspiration. Thankfully, Neumeier and Verhoeven abound with explanations for their decisions. The first tidbit comes from Neumeier regarding the media breaks, which delineate context and characters.

There are three in the film. They're quite funny; sometimes crazy. But each one serves a purpose. They introduce us to one of the film's villains, Clarence Boddicker. They immerse us in the world of Robocop with advertisements (the "NUKEM" board game - Get them before they get you!") and news reports of corporation OCP's bid to take over Old Detroit. They help to maintain the film’s consistent, quirky tone of graphic violence and laugh-out-loud comedy.

In a nutshell, they are exposition - but Neumeier uses this exposition for something more. He doesn't just tell a story. He creates an experience.    

Verhoeven joins Neumeier in enumerating story method with an inclusion of his own. A nude scene early in the film appears gratuitous to the passing viewer. Men and women are dressing together in a police locker room at one of the roughest precincts in Old Detroit. Verhoeven's explanation of this scene's purpose, however, gives his audience pause to assume the worst. Verhoeven states he wanted to show men and women capable of observing one another as equals in the work place.

This scene - taking place in one of the most dangerous precincts in the city - highlights the context of gender issues in Robocop. Women can do what men can do without the barrier of sexual degradation looming over their heads. Looking at women as sexual objects is no longer a factor. To Verhoeven, the removal of this barrier has finally resulted in "a measure of equality," and the nude scene is how he chooses to represent that rare positive aspect of Old Detroit.  

Moves such as this teach us to have a reason for everything we do. Verhoeven's purpose was not simply to squeeze in some tits. Likewise, we should have a purpose for everything we write, and every visual choice we make - and hopefully, we can make that purpose an intelligent one.  

Let's go back to Old Detroit. Neumeier's choice to set Robocop in this city is no accident. Old Detroit represents the writer's view of American industry at the end of the Second World War. "We as a nation became so arrogant," Neumeier says, "that we made crap and still expected people to buy it." He charges the automotive industry as the most obvious example; thus, the Motor City is a natural selection to illustrate his point. Extreme poverty abounds, and the usual indicators of violence, theft, and drug use are there to accompany it. This world breeds either suffering or extravagance with no in-betweens.  

Neumeier spends most of his script in the seedy parts of the city, but the legendary boardroom scene demonstrates his beliefs regarding the predatory nature of corporate America (and his disillusionment with the stupidity of that environment). Here, we see how violent, cold, and indifferent to human suffering the polished world of the elite is. Remember poor Kenny? He's the guy blown to bits by the malfunction of ED-209.

When "The Old Man," president of OCP, witnesses this tragedy, he is appalled - but not by the pieces of human anatomy splayed across his boardroom. No, he is instead motivated by the failure of a project that has consumed so much time and money.  "I'm very disappointed," the Old Man says to Dick Jones, his number two man, and uber-villain of the film.  Dick responds with a simple:  "Minor setback."  

The scene is morbid, funny, and gross. But it goes way beyond such simple descriptions. This moment in the film sets a consistent tone. It builds the main villain's character. It comments on the nature of the corporate world and the wasteful attitude of the wealthy. To them, Kenny is not a human tragedy. He symbolizes something far worse:  a financial failure.  

When developing story beats into scenes, ask yourself what's important to you. What beliefs, viewpoints, or images can you use to strengthen the writing? Neumeier's boardroom scene started as a violent fantasy birthed from the boredom of executive meetings in his days at a movie studio. He often dreamed of a giant robot crashing in and ending it all. Once that seed was planted, he turned to his personal view of corporate America to flesh things out.  

One of the stronger contributions to Robocop comes from Verhoeven, and his vision of the title character as a Christ-like entity in a futuristic reenactment of the Crucifixion and Resurrection. Verhoeven's passion play, relocated from a world of dirt and primitive technology to one of steel and high-tech weaponry, presents young police officer Alex Murphy as a Messianic figure to a world falling apart. This idea influences many of the decisions Verhoeven makes in what he chooses to show his audience.  

"Murphy's crucifixion," as Verhoeven calls it, borrows greatly from the brutality of the ancient practice perfected by the Roman Empire. The thugs responsible for his murder, led by Clarence Boddicker, believe in the concept of overkill, as we can see from the estimated one hundred-plus rounds pumped into Murphy's body. He endures, as the Gospel accounts and historical evidence indicate of Jesus (or anyone unfortunate enough to suffer such a fate), far more punishment than he could ever deserve. Furthermore, he's completely innocent in the context of the film. Boddicker even places the first bullet into Murphy's wrist, splattering his hand across the floor, and representing the nails driven into Jesus on the cross.

Verhoeven does not flinch in showing us all the gory details, because, to him, the power of Christ's story relies equally on the brutality of his death and the impact of his resurrection.  As a comics writer, you must have some "director" in you. It won't be clear how much until you know the type of artist you'll be working with, so keep in mind your influence may not end with words. Think about how well "Murphy's crucifixion" does it. Verhoeven spotted a theme in the writing that not even Neumeier intended, and he used his ideas to create a much richer scene than what was originally on the page.  

As for "Murphy's resurrection," watch how Verhoeven delays Robocop's full reveal until the right moment. The Gospel accounts take a similar approach in presenting the resurrection of Christ. His return is first foretold. When he finally appears, he does not look the same. At first, no one recognizes it's him. By the time he is revealed in his original form, there has been enough build-up to where we are used to him, and the reappearance feels more natural.

Similarly, Verhoeven decides he must delay the full appearance of Robocop, Murphy's new identity. First, Robocop awakes. Next, he observes all those working on him. We see an arm here... a hand there... his image reflected in a background monitor... his rigid walk outlined through stained glass... and finally, his entire form ready to hit the streets. Leaving Murphy's death just moments before, an instant reveal of the Robocop frame could have slowed momentum, and instantly reminded us of the concept's hokiness. But Verhoeven's visual choices build anticipation and acclimate us to the character. By the time we see Robocop, we've accepted him. 

Verhoeven's allusion to Christ offers another useful tip to our own work.  Tap history. It's true every dramatic situation has already been mined. That doesn't mean there isn't a little more gold in the shaft. You have to find your own way, and modeling other great works can assist you. Verhoeven used the death and resurrection of Christ.

You don't have to be a Christian to draw from biblical stories. And you don't need a Bible to use the past for story enrichment. Think of novels or songs that have inspired you. What qualities of these works stand out? What do you wish to take with you to your next story? These details will be most helpful in the rewriting stage. I've always believed in getting the story out as quickly as possible.

After that, it's time to buckle down and pay attention to the details. Once you lay that foundation, it's time to build your dream home. Make the work as meaningful as possible. It deserves your effort, and you owe it to yourself to give it your all.

And there's no better place to learn than from the architects of great visual storytelling. Pay closer attention to the supplemental features on your DVD's. You never know what kind of useful information is hiding there at your disposal. Learn what to do by watching your favorite films.

With the right time, effort, and talent, it could turn your current script into the next classic piece of entertainment... or at least get it out of that slush pile and into an editor's hands.

Aric Mitchell is half-man and half-DVD.