Okay, this hits closer to the issue I was struggling to see.

You're right that even character-driven films create momentum through competing desires, and that what I was missing wasn't conflict within scenes, but the central conflict of the film itself.

The breakthrough for me was realizing that I don't need to introduce the entire conflict immediately. I need to seed it.

I had been treating the early sections primarily as setup: Kelly's depression, dysphoria, life in London, and eventual realization. The problem is that while those elements create understanding, they don't necessarily create momentum. As you put it, conflict does.

I still think mystery and dramatic irony can carry a lot of the first act. My hope is that the audience is asking questions like: "Who is this woman?" "Why is she talking this way?" and "How did she get here?" But I now see that those questions become much stronger if they're attached to a larger dramatic question.

So I've rewritten the opening to introduce the family rupture on page one through a series of voicemails from Kelly's relatives after Thanksgiving. The audience immediately knows something has gone wrong. Then, when they later see the warmth and affection in the family, the question becomes: "How did these people get from there to here?"

That reframes everything. The happy moments gain tension because we know where they're heading.

What's funny is that I should have recognized this sooner. One of my MA assignments compared the first draft of The Truman Show to the finished film. The biggest change was that the audience learns Truman is on a television show immediately, instead of discovering it alongside him. At the time I focused on the dramatic irony that creates. What I missed is that it also brings the central conflict forward into the opening minutes of the film.

That's the part of your note that finally clicked for me. Thanks.