If the debate over Tolkien’s Great Eagles is any indication, few literary devices are more maligned than the deus ex machina. At its worst, it can feel contrived, overly convenient, and anticlimactic—but that doesn’t mean that it should be relegated to the storytelling trash can. Used well, the deus ex machina can create a powerful moment of providence that stays with audiences for a long time.
Latin for “god from the machine,” the deus ex machina is a literary device in which an unexpected character or element intervenes to solve a seemingly intractable problem. Typically, the device is used near the end of a story, when the obstacle is at its most insurmountable.
The term is in reference to a convention in the theater of ancient Greece, where actors playing gods would suddenly appear onstage with the use of an apparatus like a crane or trapdoor. These god characters would provide solutions to any problems presented in the plays.
The deus ex machina often uses a character or element not previously introduced in the narrative. This adds to the surprise of the plot point but risks feeling unearned or disappointing, which can cause audiences to no longer suspend their disbelief.
How to Make Audiences Suspend Their DisbeliefHere are some good—and some not-so-good—cinematic and theatrical examples of the technique.
The conversion in “As You Like It” (1623): The famed Shakespearean comedy uses a deus ex machina to bring about a happy ending for its ensemble. It’s a bit different from our other examples, however, since the technique largely takes the form of change within characters. This is especially evident in Act V, Scene IV, when primary antagonist Frederick undergoes a miraculous change of heart after he meets a religious man offstage. Here, the deus ex machina informs the pastoral comedic themes of Shakespeare’s play, emphasizing forgiveness and reconciliation. It doesn’t feel cheap because the play has already established itself as lighthearted and less concerned with logic and realism.
The T. rex in “Jurassic Park” (1993, dir. Steven Spielberg): One of Spielberg’s most successful projects incorporates a deus ex machina at its climax: Just when it seems like the film’s protagonists are going to become velociraptor food, said velociraptors become T. rex food. The characters are saved through no actions of their own. But the ending doesn’t feel totally undeserved; the T. rex is a well-established figure at this point in the movie, so it doesn’t come totally out of nowhere. The ending also affirms the film’s themes that no matter what humans do, nature will continue forth, indifferent to them. This deus ex machina is just an example of the food chain in action.
The Great Eagles in “The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King” (2003, dir. Peter Jackson): In the final installment of the “Lord of the Rings” trilogy, a deus ex machina is used to save Frodo and Sam from being cooked by lava. Gandalf (who is essentially all-powerful at this point) comes flying in with eagles to conveniently transport our heroes out of both the frying pan and the fire. While this does feel like a very easy solution, it (arguably) doesn’t leave the audience feeling cheated, because the eagles arrive after Frodo and Sam have completed their mission—they’ve destroyed the ring. As such, the eagles are simply part of the denouement, rather than integral to the climax.
The microbes in “War of the Worlds” (2005, dir. Steven Spielberg): Here’s another Spielberg example, although this one drew more consternation from audiences. Towards the end of the film—just as it seems all hope is lost and vicious aliens really will take over the planet—the invading extraterrestrials just kind of… stop. The deus ex machina isn’t really made clear until a narrator (“voice of God” Morgan Freeman, natch) comes in to explain that the aliens died from microbes that humans have developed immunity against. While some defend the semi-anticlimactic ending, many viewers walked away feeling let down by the conclusion.
It should come as no surprise that a deus ex machina can create a controversial ending. If you’re thinking of using the technique, consider what effect it will have on your story—and just as importantly, how it might color an audience’s perception of your story.
Reasons to not use a deus ex machina
It solves an unsolvable problem. OK, we concede that this is kind of the definition of deus ex machina. But the device shouldn’t be used simply because you can’t come up with a solution to the problem you’ve created in your narrative. Audiences can smell this from a mile away, and your ending will feel cheap and lazy. Don’t forget that if you paint your characters into a corner, it’s your job to get them out of it. If you can’t think of anything that feels earned, you may need to massage your draft a bit, or at the very least add foreshadowing so that the moment doesn’t feel cheap.
It changes your world’s rules. By the time you’re using a last-second solution, the guidelines of your storyworld should already be clear. If your deus ex machina shifts those rules, your audience may feel like you’re cheating. Imagine you’re playing a game of basketball and you’re up by three. Your opponent dunks on you at the last second, and then claims they won, going on to explain that in this version of basketball a dunk is worth four points. You’d be mad, right? That’s likely the feeling you’ll elicit in your audience if you try to alter the fundamentals of your world at the end of your story.
Reasons to use a deus ex machina
It creates a twist. By definition, a deus ex machina comes out of nowhere. If you’re trying to shock your audience, it can be a useful tool. But tread carefully! If it’s too crazy or too convenient, an audience may be less shocked and more annoyed. The trick to a great twist is that even though it’s unexpected, it feels right in hindsight.
It builds on a theme. Your deus ex machina shouldn’t feel like it’s completely divorced from your story. Ideally, the device should inform the ideas that your narrative is already wrestling with. For instance, say your story is about a pastor who lost his faith after contracting an incurable disease. Your deus ex machina may be that the incurable disease suddenly and inexplicably disappears. This is a convenient resolution, yes, but it also might make your character rethink their faith, thus adding to the overall theme.
It delivers a punchline. A deus ex machina can also be funny. Remember the old equation for comedy—tragedy plus timing? An unexpected savior can work perfectly in this formula. All seems lost, and then at the last second some absurd solution presents itself. Just keep in mind that comedic use of a deus ex machina leans into the farcical. If your comedy is grounded and subtle, it might not be the right fit.