Scribbler's Guide to Myth

Chaos and Order in Harry Potter

Posted on February 7, 2023 by Sarah

In the Harry Potter films, every time we get to see Harry’s Muggle home in Little Whinging, we see the very tight order of the community.

Privet Drive in the Harry Potter series — Privet Drive

We know that Harry is not happy here, but the nature of his treatment by his Aunt and Uncle could easily explain that. However, the film of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix gives us many strong visuals for an underlying clash of Chaos and Order that runs throughout the Harry Potter series.

And the first hint of this clash is the oppressive conformity of the Muggle residential community.

Good Versus Evil

When writers want to show the clashing of forces – usually implying Good versus Evil – they often choose to set Order against Chaos. And in this conflict, Good usually puts on the garb of Order, while Evil dresses in Chaos. However, J.K. Rowling plays against this pattern and it shows most clearly in the film for The Order of the Phoenix.

Perhaps it would be a useful idea to back up a bit and consider what makes for “good.” Why are there some things we consider to be “good” and other things we consider “bad” or “evil”? Certainly, we believe that it is good to be healthy and bad to be ill. But we don’t usually think a sick person is therefore evil because something is wrong in their body. Usually. There certainly have been times in the past when that was not the case. And actually, even now, sometimes some people do wonder what you did wrong that caused you to have a particular ailment. This simple, biological factor is one of the main reasons why humans consider it “good” when our bodies are “in order.”

Order and Chaos

Because we also see things in a bilateral fashion – left and right, or as the Romans called them, “sinister” and “dexter” – we like to set up opposites. We are drawn to dualities of unlike things. So, because our health tells us that “order” is “good” for our bodies, we tend to classify all Order as always Good. And the opposite state, dis-order, is not good. And we see Chaos as disorder.

Now, in recent decades fractal mathematics has come to show us that even chaos has a type of order to it. But it is a less restrictive order; it is reactive to what it encounters and has a degree of self-organization rather than an externally imposed order.

But what does Chaos Theory have to do with Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix?

The Appeal of Chaos

Rowling uses the stories in the Harry Potter series to cast Good in a less restrictive role. The appeal of the Wizarding World takes us away from the constrictive order of Little Whinging and into the wonders of the magical realm.

Certainly, we are charmed by the disorderly conduct of those Agents of Chaos, the Weasley twins, Fred and George.

The Weasley Twins plan mischief — The Weasley Twins make mischief.

Visually, the films of the series show the Wizarding World as slightly skewed for the most part (the notable exceptions being the Ministry of Magic and Hogwarts’ seeming structural order).

The outside of the Burrow — The exterior of the Burrow

Lest anyone think the visuals of Order = Bad and Chaos = Good are the choice of the filmmakers, Rowling in the text of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets gives this description of the Weasleys’ home, the Burrow.

               It looked as though it had once been a large stone pigpen, but extra rooms had been added here and there until it was several stories high and so crooked it looked as though it were held up by magic (which, Harry reminded himself, it probably was). Four or five chimneys were perched on top of the red roof. A lopsided sign stuck in the ground near the entrance read, THE BURROW. Around the front door lay a jumble of rubber boots and a very rusty cauldron. Several fat brown chickens were pecking their way around the yard.

               “It’s not much,” said Ron.

               “It’s wonderful,” said Harry happily, thinking of Privet Drive.

(HPCoS: Chapter 3 “The Burrow”)

We should also note the irony of the name of the Weasley home: the Burrow. Burrows usually disappear into the ground, hidden from view. But the Weasley home rises up into the air and is highly visible, if one is a magical person looking for it.

The homey appeal of the Weasleys’ Burrow is immediately felt. For all the apparent disorder of the home, it is also highly expressive of the residents: Molly’s housekeeping and homemaking are seen in dishes being washed and yarn knitting itself; her concern for her family is manifested in her “clock” which shows where various members are (or aren’t); Arthur’s various tinkerings with Muggle artifacts linger in the background. All this is in high contrast to the bland social conformity of the Dursley household.

The Unappeal of Order

In the film of The Order of the Phoenix, Umbridge’s office presents a visual attempt at ‘coziness,” what with the pink and kittens that abound. But it is all over-done, for she has even tinted the castle walls of her office with the color pink. Her requirement of order before all is displayed when she even straightens the pencils on her desk before Harry enters.

Umbridge in her orderly office — Umbridge in her Hogwarts office

Umbridge's posted Rules — The Wall of Umbridge’s Rules

Umbridge sets out to impose order on the chaos she perceives at Hogwarts. Her nearly endless rules and regulations clutter the wall holding the entrance to the castle’s Great Hall. Her restrictions are attempts to control almost every expression of individuality from the students, from slight disorders in how they dress to how the students interact (especially public displays of affection between boys and girls) to even practicing magical skills (whether charming paper birds, playing ball games with sparkling fireballs, or even simple wand “swishing”).

The treatment of Order being a manifestation of the “Dark Side” shows up later in the series, after Dumbledore’s death. When Snape becomes Headmaster, his regimented control of the students is shown on film as the students march in complete lockstep. The regimentation chosen by Umbridge and Snape keeps the students separate from each other while also stifling individuality.

The tight order that Snape requires as Headmaster — Student order under Headmaster Snape

When the Weasley twins choose to abandon schooling under Umbridge, their departure becomes a joyous celebration in the midst of her stifling atmosphere of Order. They disrupt the O.W.L. Testing, setting off fireworks (including a magnificent dragon head), and blasting down the displayed regulations Umbridge has enacted.

Fireworks from the Weasley Twins — The Weasley Twins create chaos with fireworks

The Benefits of Chaos

J.K. Rowling’s reversal of the preference of Order and Chaos has provoked questions about “What kind of school is this?” Students – children – are given dangerous tasks; they (at least Harry and his companions) are allowed to break rules to a certain degree. Surely this is not an ideal model for “Real World” schools. But the point of the Harry Potter series is that in the fight against an evil, and especially one like that in these books, it is often the unexpected — almost chaotic — choices and turns that make the difference in the conflict.

As noted earlier in the comments about fractal mathematics, there is a degree of self-organization involved, rather than compliance to an externally imposed order. In The Order of the Phoenix, we see this as Dumbledore’s Army comes together. For their private Defense Against the Dark Arts class, the students self-select and self-organize. They are exemplars of Chaos Theory as the group is made of students from several different years and three different Hogwarts Houses.

To wrap up the whole point of displaying the “good” of Chaos over Order in this series, consider the choices that Dumbledore makes as he tries to prepare Harry for his eventual last confrontation with Voldemort. Dumbledore does not give Harry explicit instructions for finding and destroying the horcruxes. He was giving Harry freedom in finding solutions, trusting Harry’s imagination rather than restricting Harry with instructions. After all, instructions are rules that are limitations. Harry will have to go beyond limitations – even the limitations of death – in order to defeat Voldemort. Which answers Ron’s distressed question about why Harry doesn’t know more about finding and destroying the horcruxes. Knowing would have limited and hindered Harry.

Posted in Motifs at work | Tagged Chaos, Fantasy, Good Versus Evil, Harry Potter, Order | Leave a comment

The Mission as Main Character

Posted on September 1, 2021 by Sarah

In 1977, MGM released the film A Bridge Too Far, about the World War II Operation Market Garden. Following the D-Day landing, the Allies were having a hard time pushing forward on continental Europe. Field Marshal Montgomery devised the Market Garden operation as a combined land and air mission to capture all the bridges along a main road in the Netherlands, especially the bridge at Arnhem over the Rhine River. That last bridge would put the Allies in a good position to then roll eastward into Germany, with the aim of reaching Berlin.

The film was loaded with high powered stars playing (for the most part) real people, with some characters fictionalized versions of other real people. The aim of the film makers was to try and make it as historically accurate as possible, without actually making a documentary. William Goldman wrote the script from the book by Cornelius Ryan, and Richard Attenborough directed it. The logistics for the film required getting as many WWII planes as possible for the air drop sequences. The actual operation involved 35,000 paratroopers (American, British, and Polish) to secure the various bridges, while the tank corps would then roll up the road, crossing the bridges, in a race to Arnhem. The production had 1,000 jumpers to film the landing sequences from their fleet of planes.

Sean Connery in A Bridge Too Far — Sean Connery

I saw the film when it was released in 1977, and I like it. I’m not a big fan of war movies, but I liked A Bridge Too Far for the clarity with which it presented the mission. I understood the stakes, the objectives were clear, the problems that turned up in the actual execution of the operation were easy to understand. And we had the vignettes of the various people who were involved in the operation, including some of the Germans that would oppose them. The sequences of the daylight jump of the thousands of paratroopers is visually spectacular. These days we have gotten used to such sequences created by computer graphics, and we nod and smile at them. But this film did the actual thing: shots from the ground of the flock of planes flying overhead, with the string of parachutes blossoming open behind each of them; shots from the planes, as the paratroopers went out the door, and their chutes popped open; even point of view shots from a jumper, all the way to the ground and the hard landing. There’s an organic feeling to it that computer graphics still cannot quite achieve.

Anthony Hopkins in A Bridge Too Far — Anthony Hopkins

But for all this production effort, the film did not do well. The rousing score (which I love) could not pull together what many felt was choppy storytelling. With so many characters to track, even though each is clearly delineated, it feels difficult for the audience member to connect. And indeed, there have been films made about specific aspects of Operation Market Garden, in particular, the taking of the bridge at Nijmegen and the failure to take the bridge at Arnhem, both of which have emotional stories for the commanders at those points.

Because this is about a failed operation. If the mission were an actual person, it would be a dramatic tragedy.

In reality, there was plenty of tragedy: the disastrous landing of the troops charged with the Arnhem bridge, miles from the town and bridge, in the midst of an unexpected Panzer division; the taking of the Nijmegen bridge, where the troops were obliged (because of time pressures) to cross the river in inflatable plank-and-rubber boats in daylight, with many being shot to shreds – but they took the bridge. The over-all story is not lacking in emotional human stories.

James Caan in A Bridge Too Far — James Caan

So, what kept the film from connecting with the audience?

When we go to movies, we expect to connect emotionally with the characters. We want at least one character to hang onto throughout the whole adventure. We invest our attention in that character’s ups and downs, as the character emotes, so do we.

The problem with A Bridge Too Far is that the main character we were expected to latch onto was not any of the humans involved in the operation, it is the mission itself.

As I said before, I saw the film when it was released in theaters, and I like it. It is long (about three hours, in fact), but over the years, I’ve seen it a few times again on cable. And it recently turned up on the Hulu streaming service, so I watched it again. But this time I paid attention to the story presentation.

Most of the principal characters performed by major stars have their own complete story arcs: beginning, middle, end, with the attendant conflicts, successes, and failures. We are satisfied with the completeness of these sub-stories. But there is no through-character whose point of view we can follow, other than the mission itself. And, unfortunately, the mission cannot convey to us the desperate need to get all the way up the road, the frustration of finding that most of it was very narrow and elevated, making it difficult for tanks and trucks to travel all at once. The mission cannot express alarm when the bridge at Son was blown up by the Germans, and the Allies have to use a British pontoon bridge to make that crossing. Instead, those emotions are presented by individuals we get little time with, even though their characters and concerns are clearly delineated. But the vignettes are not enough for us emotionally. Thus, when we get to the tragic ending of the British soldiers trapped at Arnhem, the need to escape the surrounding Germans, and the necessity of leaving their wounded to be captured so that the escape of the others can be covered, all this is intellectually moving, and the images are poignant, but the end effect is not enough.

Arnhem Bridge in A Bridge Too Far — Arnhem Bridge

After I first saw the film, I did get the book it was based on. It’s an outstanding historical read, giving much more detail about aspects of the operation (such as a footnote about embedded reporters, which included Walter Cronkite). But in a book, we can easily accept “mission as main character” because we know that is the point. But movies are like stories told around campfires: we are not expecting nor wanting a history lesson at such an occasion. We want to connect with other people, to feel as they feel, fully, from start to finish.

If you accept the film on its own terms, that the mission is the main character, and go along for the ride, it remains a repeatable experience, which is not a failure in storytelling terms. But you do feel the lack of a through-character. Field Marshal Montgomery himself never appears in the film: that raises interesting questions. Montgomery came up with the operation a bit out of jealousy: Patton was more highly regarded as a field general, and Eisenhower had overseen the massive, deadly, but successful D-Day landing. But Montgomery was never on the ground with any of the troops in Market Garden. And after the paratroopers were withdrawn from Arnhem, he pronounced the mission mostly a success. After all, it did free much of the Netherlands from the Germans. But we never see his pride, jealousy, over-confidence, chagrin, and psychological denial of the tragic failure, all because he conceived of an operation that reached for a bridge too far. But that would be a different story altogether.

Posted in Motifs at work | Tagged Characters, Hero, Mission | Leave a comment

All at Sea in a Winter Storm

Posted on September 9, 2017 by Sarah

In 2016, Walt Disney Pictures released the film The Finest Hours, about the 1952 Coast Guard rescue of sailors trapped on a broken and sinking ship. The rescue took place in the middle of a winter storm, at night. The Coast Guard officer that undertook the rescue, Bernie Webber, had to rely on his own sense of the sea, because equipment failed in the face of the storm.

The story is chock full of wonderful motif possibilities in terms of landscape and weather. Most people tend to focus on the characters when it comes to mythic patterns in storytelling. They don’t realize how much the mythic patterns that are connected to the physical world can help underpin a story. The Finest Hours gives us plenty to play with.

The Chaos of the Sea

For starters, the sea is traditionally a realm of chaos. Its power is outside the control of human beings, and so it is regarded with fear. It’s a dangerous environment – as the crew of the SS Pendleton discover. In the midst of a winter storm (another chaotic pattern), the ship is broken in half. 32 members of the crew are stuck in the stern of the ship, which they manage to keep afloat for a while. But they have to call for rescue.

An additional environmental motif that builds on the story tension is that of winter. The season of winter represents a time of danger and fear, even the possibility of death and endings. It is the darkest time of the year, so we regard the season as one of loss. The expectation of the imagery gives the audience a heightened tension, especially when combined with the storm that shuts down shipping.

Land as the Realm of Order and Stability

In contrast to the chaos of the sea, land usually represents order and stability. Yet, in this story, that aspect of the land is undercut, again by the storm. The noreaster takes out the power of the town, forcing the inhabitants to find a make-shift means of lighting the way for the return of the rescue vessel. This is achieved by organizing the local vehicles to turn on their headlights along the waterfront, a solution that proves successful.

The Man at Home with the Sea

The key element in the story is the character of Bernie, however. He is presented as a man who is more comfortable and secure when he is out on the water than when he is on land. On land, he finds himself a bit uncertain when he falls in love with Miriam. Even though everyone around him can see him falling in love and they take it in stride, he still has his uncertainties.

But when Bernie is out on the water, he is filled with certainty. We see early in the film that he knows the waters of the area very well indeed. When it comes time for the rescue, everyone around him is sure that this rescue is impossible: the storm of itself makes things difficult, having to go out at night makes things difficult, the need to cross a difficult region of breakers just outside the harbor is a challenge no one else wants to face, and the radar has been disrupted by the storm so finding the remains of the Pendleton will be extremely difficult.

But Bernie is certain he can do it. He guides the rescue vessel out of the harbor and across the breakers more on his own instincts that any reliance on equipment (the tools of land). He persists in trusting his instincts and emotions on the turbulence of the sea, and so does indeed find his way to the stern of the Pendleton. Returning to the harbor with an overloaded vessel continues the challenges, and yet Bernie’s belief in himself brings them through the breakers again and safely to the docks.

The mythic patterns in this film show how a storyteller can take advantage of them. The chaos of the sea, combined with that of a storm, provides a powerful antagonist for the characters. And yet, when the key character is attuned to that chaos, rather than the order of land, he can still achieve a victory, in this case bringing people back to the safety of the land that is not his own element (but it is theirs).

Posted in Motifs at work | Tagged Chaos, Hero, Land, Sea, Winter | Leave a comment

The Power of Joy

Posted on October 10, 2014 by Sarah

When the film Guardians of the Galaxy opened during the summer of 2014, it rocketed up the box office returns as the “feel good” movie of the season. A light-hearted story, in the sense that it lifts one’s spirits and feelings, the film generated fast and positive word-of-mouth.

Groot As Supporting Character

One element that contributed to this good feeling is the character of the alien Groot. Groot is, apparently, a sentient and mobile tree, and who only says “I am Groot” in various ways. At first, he just seems to be a quirkly, colorful background element to the story. But as the story builds to its climax, Groot becomes more and more important to the success of the quest of the principal characters. At a climactic moment, he sprouts branches to create a protective nest for his companions to shelter them from a terrible explosion. It blows him to shreds, but saves the others.

And then a twig is found, that has a budding face of Groot, which when planted proceeds to grow, promising the return of the appealing character.

43 Seconds of Joy

After the filmmakers wrapped up the basic plotlines of the film, they added a little scene that shows the small Groot planted in a pot on a counter, while Drax cleans and sharpens a knife nearby. The music of the Jackson 5 kicks in, and “Baby Groot” (as fans quickly dubbed the sprout) starts dancing to it. He freezes at one moment when Drax looks around, but once Drax turns back to his personal chore, Groot joyfully gives in to the music.

The marketing folks at Marvel Studios (or parent company Disney) were savvy enough to recognize that these 43 seconds would be very popular. They beat the pirates to the punch and uploaded the clip of Dancing Groot to YouTube as soon as the movie opened. It promptly went viral online.

Why a Successful Quest Is Not Enough

Would the film has been as successful without those 43 seconds? Probably, as it was filled with humor, intelligence, and the upholding of admirable virtues. These are all things that actually have a strong appeal to people. In spite of so much dark, cynical entertainment that does well in the marketplace, the audience does respond strongly to up-beat, positive, admirable material. So, when our heroes succeed in defeating the Bad Guy and “saving the world,” we are pleased and satisfied. And many stories would end with that and do well enough.

The added moment, those delightful 43 seconds, provides the final chord of the emotional composition of the story. We need that brief moment that provides emotional punctuation to the overall nature of the story.

Recovery Through Joy

We want this pause that makes us rejoice in life. It fills out our satisfaction with the successful quest. Instead of ending with a plain “Yay! We did it!” the filmmakers give us a celebration of the character of Groot and simple enjoyment of the aftermath of success. Watching the sprouting Groot engage with the music carries the audience forward. We have watched Groot go from ominous and mysterious protector to Rocket Raccoon, to surprising helper, fierce warrior, and finally sacrificial savior of his companions. That progression is powerful enough on its own. To find that he is not totally lost, and indeed has gained this joyful expressiveness, gives the audience a sense of recovery.

Recovery, restoration, and resurrection – these have considerable emotional power for the audience. Many people feel that they have lost key things in their lives, so recovery is an uplifting story element. Having something they have come to value restored to them, in some fashion or other ends a story on a very positive, satisfying note.

When winding down your story, consider this aspect of the ending. Everything has been wound up. The quest has been successful. Take a moment to celebrate, to be joyful about the achievement in some fashion.

Posted in Musings | Tagged Guardians of the Galaxy, Joy, Restoration, Sacrifice, Science Fiction, Writing | Leave a comment

Disengaged Hero, Disengaged Audience

Posted on August 16, 2014 by Sarah

I’ll start by saying I’m not familiar with the source material, or the earlier drafts of the film scripts. You could say I’m disengaged from earlier versions. I’m just working from what was achieved in the theatrical film.

World War Z had crucial elements that should have shaped the film for success. So what went wrong with it? Appealing star, apocalyptic disaster, plenty of action – all elements that should have hooked the audience and kept them hooked.

The Galahad Grail Quest

First off, let’s consider the basic nature of the quest story. This particular story fits the pattern for a Galahad Grail Quest.

Grail Quests are specialized types of quests that involve the relation between the question hero and the community around him. The elements of the Galahad Quest are these:

The hero is on a quest of fulfillment of the self.
The hero is destined to succeed.
The hero heals the king before he completes the quest.
The land is healed.
The hero achieves the goal of the quest.

In a Galahad Quest, the hero often enters a situation he is not personally connected to, usually because he has a personal quest of his own. The king need not be an actual person; the figure is simply the key identifier of whatever ails “the land” of the story.

Does Gerry Have a Personal Quest?

This is where World War Z starts out well and then goes off the rails. During the first portion of the film, Gerry Lane (Brad Pitt) focuses on keeping his family safe from the fast-spreading zombie plague. The opening sequence shows Gerry’s special qualities: keen observation and deduction, and superior adaptive survivor skills. It sets Gerry up well for the primary quest of the film: finding the way to stop the zombie plague.

The major story problem begins when Gerry is sent on the quest to find the origins, nature, and answer to this zombie plague. First off, he is sent. He is selected as the best investigator available, the one most likely to succeed in this quest to save the human race. Certainly, the stakes are compelling: save the world. But emotionally, Gerry’s drive is to save his family.

And that emotional compulsion leads to the second problem in the story. When he begins the quest, his family is safe. That is why he agrees to go at all. Oh, the storytellers put in a touch of hazard: as long as Gerry makes progress in the quest, his family may stay aboard the command ship at sea. But if he gives up or fails, because they are “non-essential personnel” they would be transferred to a remote refugee camp – with the implication that the camps might be over-run eventually. This option is presented as ruthless necessity – they are “non-essential.” But looked at from the outside, any un-infected humans would in fact be absolutely essential for the survival of the human race, no matter what their skill set was.

So, the emotional stake for Gerry came across as a dud. He’ll do it because he is noble and all that. In short, he will do it because, hey, he’s the hero of this story. (He is destined to succeed.)

The Progress of Gerry’s Quest

Off he goes on the quest. First stop: Korea. He learns about the first instances, and that the zombies are attracted to noise. What he learns there sends him to Israel, hopefully to consult a well-known doctor there. In Israel, he finds they have built a huge, secure compound that, to that point, has kept the zombies out.

But does he tell the Israeli doctor that the zombies are attracted to noise? No, he does not. At this point, the story starts losing the audience. If Gerry is to save the world, why not tell these people the first important survival tip he has learned: keep quiet. He doesn’t warn anyone – until the refugees in the compound start singing and dancing – making noise. The zombies swarm over the wall. As the zombies swarm, Gerry and the doctor realize that the zombies ignore anyone diseased and dying. They speculate that a major infectious disease would help save the humans. The Israeli doctor tells Gerry his best bet is to find the right virus and antidote is an isolated lab in Wales.

Off Gerry goes again, rescuing Israeli soldier Segen along the way – because he has deduced that the bite of the zombies infects the blood stream. Segen gets bitten on the hand, and Gerry immediately cuts off her lower arm, hoping he has stopped the spread in her system. He counts off the seconds and yes, it has worked.

The remainder of the action involves getting to the lab, getting to the vault with the viruses and antiviruses, and getting these out to the rest of the humans, thus stopping the virus.

And of course, Gerry succeeds.

So why did the movie feel so flat?

The Disengaged Problems with World War Z

The problems in the storytelling are two-fold.

First, the external problem as set up is nearly insurmountable. Although it takes a red blood cell 20 seconds to circle the whole body, the story shows us that in a mere 12 seconds after being bitten the victim dies. The zombie plague successfully infects too fast for most story options. There is almost no doubt that a bite means death. Gerry’s hack job is the only demonstrated evasion of that and it comes late in the story. The speed of the plague mechanism removes the suspense of will-they-or-won’t-they become victims. And Segen’s rescue is played as absolute when she doesn’t die after the 12-count.

The second major problem is the emotional connection of the audience with Gerry – or rather, the lack of it. He’s an observer, primarily, and that makes the character distanced from the audience from the start. It isn’t that Observer characters are completely unappealing, they are not. Famous and popular Observer characters would be Sherlock Holmes or Star Trek’s Mr. Spock. But both of those characters are mediated by a more emotive character that the audience connects to. Gerry, however, is basically all alone. His family is left behind early, and Segen, other than being a fellow survivor, has no emotional connection to him. So there is no emotional mediator for the audience, no one who can reflect Gerry’s internal emotions and challenges.

For the audience, Gerry Lane (no matter how well played by Brad Pitt) is about as emotionally engaging as the zombies he is trying to stop. There’s plenty of action and spectacle to the story, but considering the global threat, the emotional ride is rather flat.

What Could Have Been Done?

Assuming the premise of the zombie plague and its solution remained the same – in the first act, when the family is escaping, have one of the Lane’s daughters get bitten and they have to leave her (she’s now dead and a zombie). This puts a high emotional charge between Gerry and his wife. When Gerry is sent on the quest, his wife goes with him, as his working partner (easy enough to give her a backstory and expertise that matches his). In Israel, instead of rescuing Segen, who has no emotional connection to Gerry, have it be Gerry’s wife that must be saved by lopping off part of her arm. These changes would have engaged the audience far more, for in addition to the global question of stopping the zombies, there would be the emotional question of whether the relationship between Gerry and his wife would survive.

An engaging story has to intensely make the audience not want to be a zombie. To do that, the main character they are following has to be much more than an emotionally disengaged zombie.

Posted in Motifs at work | Tagged Galahad Quest, Grail Quest, Hero, Zombies | Leave a comment