Repetitive Entertainment

I saw a post on a social media site the other day. It was a photo of multiple Disney princesses, each with captions representing their characters in modern meme form. The caption for Belle (from Beauty and the Beast – fun fact: “belle” is French for “beautiful”) was, “I read that book before it was a movie.” It occurred to me, when I read this, that this is becoming increasingly difficult to do. After it came out, for instance, I had a vague intention of reading The Hunger Games (Suzanne Collins), but if I were to read the series now, I could not claim the above quote… even though the first book only came out four years ago. This rapid transition from page to screen is surprising, at least to me.

Perhaps the most common complaint I have heard about Hollywood (at least, within my social circle) is that it’s unoriginal. This is not untrue. The recent “Batman” movies are a reboot of the earlier film series which was itself an adaptation of a comic book. The “Superman” reboot, same story. The “Spiderman” reboot, again. Not that it has to be a reboot – the “X-Men” films, “The Avengers,” “Iron Man,” and so on – all adaptations of comic books. Meanwhile, we have “The Hunger Games,” “Harry Potter,” “Lord of the Rings,” “Game of Thrones,” and more, adapting novels. Remakes of old and not-so-old films (each based on something else), like “Clash of the Titans” and “Total Recall.” There are even board game adaptations, which I seriously thought was a joke when I first heard about it. And let’s not forget the video game adaptations – “Resident Evil,” “Doom,” and others.

So the question is: Why doesn’t Hollywood put out anything original anymore? Well, for one thing, the “indie film” department has “original” pretty darn well covered. A lot of those films are so off-the-wall that they could hardly be anything but original. Not that I’m a big indie film guy, except for a spare few. Just not my cup of tea, as they say.

But why else? What drives this oddity of “unoriginality”?

I’m going to go ahead and argue: human nature. Look at entertainment throughout history. “Originality” is a relatively recent concept. Look at Greek epic poetry, like Homer – the tales of myth woven in a particular way. Latin poetry (Vergil and Ovid, especially) was much the same way. Nordic sagas, too, told the tales most people already knew. When theater came along, it followed suit, especially in Greece. More of the same myths, stories from ye olden days of  yore – most people had gotten the gist of these stories long before. But the plays were retellings as much as they were anything. I doubt that the original story of Medea had quite the same “womyn rock!” message that Euripides’ version had. I’m sure Sophocles had his reasons for telling the stories of Oedipus and his daughters the way he did. It’s the same story… but it isn’t.

And this wasn’t just an ancient thing. Shakespeare wrote few, if any, truly original stories. Instead, he told stories that everyone knew. Why? Because it made laying the groundwork easy. If there’s something I am learning as an author, it’s that laying the groundwork can be one of the most difficult things to do in a story. It must be done subtly, carefully, slowly, but clearly; if you move too quickly, you end up like “The Da Vinci Code,” which reads like a brick at times and seems to be more exposition than story; if you are too obscure, then you lose your readers in a world they know nothing about. As the author, I know a great deal about the world I’m writing in, but my readers know absolutely nothing – unless, of course, I tell them ahead of time that this is a story they know. Like about that king that died a few years ago, or that old myth from Greece, or that tale of lovers that everyone’s so fond of.

Of course, once the groundwork has been laid, I can go anywhere I want with the story. I can introduce new themes, change the plot, alter the ending, all to offer a very specific message, a point and purpose that was, if not lacking, then misdirected in the original. I can use others’ stories to achieve my own ends. This isn’t plagiarism; it’s art. Plagiarism is taking something that belongs to someone else and claiming it as your own; art is taking something that belongs to someone else and changing it, making it belong to you, before giving it back.

You may have heard that Picasso once said, “Good artists borrow, great artists steal.” In some brief research, I find it increasingly unlikely that Picasso ever said any such thing. However, T. S. Eliot did once write in an essay, “Immature poets imitate; mature poets steal; bad poets deface what they take, and good poets make it into something better, or at least something different.”

So don’t blame Hollywood for their repetitive entertainment. Thank them. After all, how would you have known what was going on with that first-person sequence in “Doom” (2005) if you didn’t know it was modeled after a video game from 1993, which was itself inspired by a combination of horror/action genres and Dante Alighieri’s “Inferno,” which was itself inspired by Greco-Roman tales of the underworld (syncretized with Christian ideologies), especially Aeneas and Odysseus, which were based on myths that had been passed down in oral tradition for generations?

By retelling old stories, filmmakers are able to draw us into a story quickly and easily. Now, if they’re good at what they do, they make it just as easy for newcomers to get wrapped up in the tale, but either way, once they have you hooked, they have a chance to tell the story in their own way. Like how Peter Jackson cut out swaths of great stories from “The Lord of the Rings,” resulting in a third film that was occasionally disjointed and had way too many endings. Or how he plans to add in huge chunks of detail to “The Hobbit,” based on Tolkien’s notes on the subject, turning it from one film into three.

He is both able – and allowed – to do this. And I’m not talking about what Tolkien’s family is letting him do – I’m talking about us, the audience. If Jackson tried to tell the story of “The Lord of the Rings” and none of us had ever heard of the “The Lord of the Rings,” it would be a disaster. Like when “Fellowship of the Ring” first came out, and a bunch of people complained because the movie ended, but the story wasn’t over, and wasn’t that ridiculous for what was clearly a single movie standing by itself? Those people were unfamiliar with the story, so they didn’t forgive Jackson for making the film the way he did – but those of us who knew what was going on, we did forgive him. At least mostly.

TL;DR: It’s not Hollywood’s fault that they’re making so many “unoriginal” films. It’s our fault, because we like familiarity, and they’re smart enough to know that.

“20,000 Leagues” Is No Joke

20 000 Leagues Under the Sea20 000 Leagues Under the Sea by Jules Verne
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

This truly was an excellent book. It was exciting, thrilling, engaging, entertaining, intellectual, informative, and daring. It is a testament to its time, its author, and its genre.

Its ending is most exquisite. The tying together of various wandering knots in the tale to form its resolute end kept me on the edge of my seat for the last four chapters, easily. The encounter with the cephalopods, the battle with the mysterious vessel, and the drive into the maelstrom form an exciting conclusion to this book.

The middle, however, is where the book suffers. It is, at times, too slow. While its science fiction is entertaining and intellectually invigorating, it strays too far from the story to engage therein. On the other hand, the discussions of species of fish, the questions of history and natural history, and the variegated adventures of the professor and his companions are all necessary and appropriate to that story. Even so, they tend to drag on from time to time (one of many reasons I was not able to finish this book more quickly).

All that said, the book is definitely worth the read, especially if you love science fiction. It’s one of the classics for a reason.

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The End of an Era

[pb_vidembed title=”The Elder Scrolls Online – Announcement Trailer” caption=”” url=”https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I6m9-Dret0U” type=”yt” w=”480″ h=”385″] And so passes the last refuge of quality single-player RPG series. First KotOR, and now Elder Scrolls.

I guess I just don’t get the point of MMORPG’s. I’ve played quite a few – Star Wars Galaxies, World of Warcraft, Lord of the Rings Online, City of Heroes, Champions Online, Pirates of the Burning Sea, Star Trek Online, Star Wars The Old Republic, and others, if you count open betas and the like. But every time, I acquire only an overwhelming sense of pointlessness.

I mean, in relation to my impact on the persistent world, I’m identical to everyone else in real life; why would I want the same experience among video games? Not everyone can be a hero, and if you’re not a hero, then there’s no great story. If there’s no great story, then what’s the point in escapist, interactive fantasies?

Is it talking with your friends? Possibly. But let me ask: have you ever heard of the telephone? Or a hang-out? And I don’t mean that thing on Google Plus where you all use your webcams at the same time.

Perhaps it’s spending time with friends doing fun stuff. I don’t imagine that’s possible in any other form, such as, you know, in person.

It’s like people have decided that real life isn’t good enough, so they made escapist video games – many of which are quite awesome in single-player forms. Then, when they realized that their lives were lacking in certain necessary components (because they did nothing but play video games), they converted their escapist video games into escapist multiplayer video games, which gradually – and sometimes, not so gradually – morph into “real life in X universe.”

I wish you luck, Bethesda Softworks. I really do. It’d be neat to see an MMORPG that’s not just Second Life in Space, or Second Life in Middle Earth, or Second Life in Tamriel. At least Second Life is honest. But if BioWare couldn’t do it – and trust me, they couldn’t – then I’m not sure you’ll be able to do it, either. Especially since Skyrim turned about half the quests in the game into “real life”-esque quests, which are more like a job than a story.

But good luck, all the same.

I Knew Learning Latin Would Pay Off Someday

A Canticle for LeibowitzA Canticle for Leibowitz by Walter M. Miller Jr.
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

NOTE: Some spoilers follow.

Miller’s “A Canticle for Leibowitz” is indeed a marvelous work of modern science fiction. It wraps up the natural fear of nuclear weapons (which Miller no doubt experienced as he watched the bombs fall on Japan) and combines it with the innovative “what if” of a long and storied history.

“Canticle” does an excellent job of providing a deeply religious perspective on a dark and troubled future, with the full awareness of human nature and a Catholic understanding of original sin. The book ends with an intriguing twist on that doctrine, but – while it may be outside the normal realm of theological presumption – it is presented from a humble and simple eye, which presumes nothing of its own accord. Miller’s work here is delightful.

Enjoyable, too, are the echoes of the Mass and the cleverness of Miller’s classical education, which plays out in this work. There were a number of jokes and layers which I could not have understood without my knowledge of the Latin language or the Catholic Mass. Miller’s weave of these issues borders on the brilliant.

Now, downsides: first, Miller is a writer of short stories. This is evident in that each of the three parts of “Canticle” could be read and, more or less, understood apart from the others. There are elements that tie them together, but seeing those strings is more like gravy than substance. Of course, in a story that spans over a thousand years, this is to be expected to some degree. Even so, I would have appreciated more intricacies of plot between the sections.

I felt, too, that there were a few questions left unanswered. The nature and identity of the nomad, or Benjamin, or Lazarus, is unclear. Miller never resolves that question, at least not satisfactorily. There is some implication about the identity of the man, which plays (quite cleverly, if non-traditionally) on the lack of details about the (second) death of Lazarus, the friend of Jesus, in the Bible. But I would have liked more resolution there.

But all of that said, the book is excellent. The imagery and depth of the story is striking, and I am glad all the more for having read this delightful work of science fiction.

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O Brave New World, That Has Such People In’t!

Brave New WorldBrave New World by Aldous Huxley
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

I liked this book. I really did. Not for its morality, nor really for its philosophy, but for its brilliance – for that examination of the human condition in stark light, that study of the person in the harshest glare and most intent gaze.

The events of this book, both in its setting and in its conclusion, are terrible. Not that they are poorly written, mind, but that they are genuinely frightful in their presentation of humankind. To exist in a society wrought, not with endeavor and achievement and heroism, but with contentedness and stability and order and utter, unnatural blandness… it is an affront to the mind. Worse still is to pursue virtue and genuine human experience, only to be dragged to the brink by one’s own viciousness.

The Savage desired truth and beauty, and he was robbed – nay, he robbed himself, by fault and by mistake – of all that and more.

It’s a tragic story – made all the more appropriate by the persistent presence of the Bard’s tragedies in the Savage’s limited and broken philosophy. I cannot, in good conscience, recommend this book to everyone, but it is a powerful examination of the dangers of the paths before us. On the one hand, perceived freedom and happiness truly enslaved to order; on the other, syncretism and suffering.

Of course, as Huxley notes in his foreword to my edition of the book, those are not (or rather, should not be) our only choices. Huxley postulates that there is even a society present in the book that pursues this alternative, which I noticed myself: the exiles, those both too intellectual and too individualist to pursue lives in the community-driven world of society, but not quite to be executed and cast among the carrion in Slough Crematorium. People like Helmholtz Watson and Bernard Marx – people who, by their very peculiarity, are made alone in a society of sameness, and are forced into philosophy and thought and the wondrous discovery of true humanity.

It remains, of course, that Huxley’s view of religion, science, and technology is inherently punctuated with his perception of philosophy… by which I mean to say that the man may have been brilliant, but he is nevertheless wrong. I do not intend to refute his beliefs in this short review, however, so let it suffice to say this: Aldous Huxley’s “Brave New World” is a clever work of science fiction, philosophy, and social extrapolation, from which we all may do well to learn.

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