Robin Hood and the Making of an Outlaw Hero

June 14th, 2010

Ridley Scott’s 2010 film Robin Hood has been touted as being “Robin Hood as you’ve never seen him.”  Well, it depends on the “you” and the “seen.”

[What follows contains Spoilers, so if you haven't seen it, you've been warned.]

Certainly, many of the tellings of Robin Hood are about Robin’s life as the leading outlaw of Sherwood Forest.  Some versions have touched on what went before, how he came to be an outlaw, or what happened late in life.

The British television series in the 1980s showed how first a yeoman

and then an Earl’s son

became Robin Hood.  The Kevin Coster film Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves

shows Robin as a nobleman crusader who returns home to fight injustice.  1976’s Robin and Marion

also showed Robin as a crusader, who followed Richard the LionHeart off to war (after many forest adventures) and then returned home a much older man after the King’s death.

The literature and legends of Robin Hood cover many variations of how Robin became Robin Hood.  So, the claim that Scott’s Robin would be nothing like what you knew before is actually stretching the point, even if just limited to film appearances (and yes, I skipped mentioning the Flynn version).  Scott’s film doesn’t really stray very far from the core of the myth of Robin Hood as it has become.

First off, Robin Hood is one of the key examples of what an Outlaw Hero is.  Of the community, but not in it.  And the hero addresses some flaw in society.  So far, so good. We’re on track.

One thing that Scott’s Robin Hood does do is make our hero, Robin Longstride, a Transformer.  By being present in a scene, this Robin changes things.  More usually, one would expect Robin Hood to be a Trickster, the underdog who punctures illusions and outwits “bigger” opponents.  But Scott doesn’t go that route.

Early on in the film, King Richard explores his camp with his aide Robert Loxley, looking for an honest man.  They encounter a brawling Robin, who has been entertaining fellow soldiers with the shell game.  Then he is asked by the King to be honest and tell whether he thinks the King’s actions have pleased God.  Remember, as a Transformer, Robin changes things.  Even though Loxley tries to surrepticiously warn him against honesty, Robin says no, and cites a massacre Richard ordered in the Holy Land.

His honesty gets him put into stocks, where he is sitting when the King is killed.  Robin and his co-horts use the situation to cover their escape from Richard’s army.

As they head back to England, they encounter the ambush of the English messengers taking the news of Richard’s death - and Richard’s crown - back to England.  And Robert Loxley is the leader.  With his dying breaths, Loxley charges Robin with returning his sword to his father.  Robin decides to honor the request and does so by taking on Loxley’s identity.

Taking on a new identity certainly does transform things for a character.  But in doing this, Robin not only changes his social identity, he takes up the “burden” and responsibilities belonging to Loxley.  And in taking on that role he changes himself.  Likewise, in taking on Loxley’s identity, he has to take on Loxley’s wife.  This is yet another change for Robin (and for Marion).

Once he takes on this identity, his presence changes the way people react around him.  Their response to his perceived status strengthens his inherent resolution and leadership abilities.  That too changes him.

Onward the story goes, with the circumstances changing Robin and him changing the circumstances.  Right up to the point where King John rejects the changes in the power structure that had been prepared by Robin’s father and the Barons years before.  John declares Robin to be outlawed and so the “Legend Proper” begins.

There’s not much here that is alien to the nature of the Robin Hood legend.  Scott’s changes are, in effect, a distinction without much difference.  The one key “difference” in Ridley Scott’s version is that instead of a Trickster, he has given us the story of how a Transformer becomes an Outlaw Hero.

As always, feel free to comment here, or on the MESSAGE BOARD.

Pictures from Robin of Sherwood property of Goldcrest Films Int., Harlech Television, ITV.  / Picture from Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves property of Warner Bros. Pictures / Picture from Robin and Marion property of Columbia Pictures / Pictures from Robin Hood property of Universal Pictures.

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Is the Myth of Wonder Woman a Lie?

June 6th, 2010
One of the interesting things in having a website is checking the search strings that bring people to the site. In January this year, one of those search strings caught my attention. Someone was apparently investigating the question “Is the myth of Wonder Woman a lie?”

 

The first thing that crossed my mind was why anyone was still asking whether any myth is a lie. But of course, that “still” is more a reflection of how much time I have personally spent studying myths and how they affect our lives. Not everyone else in the world has done that. There remain many who contend that anything talking about apparent divinities which is not about one’s personal deity is ipso facto “a lie.” So I guess I should address that aspect before starting out.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. Myth is about meaning, it is not about fact. Not scientific fact, not historical fact. Because of this distinction, regardless of what one’s personal religious beliefs are, it remains possible for anyone to gain understanding by considering what a particular myth means, either in a cultural context or a personal one. Thus, it is basically a non sequitur for anyone to ask if a myth is a lie. A lie about what?

Previously, I had discussed Wonder Woman and how difficult she is as a character: difficult for writers to get a full grasp on her. You can find those observations HERE. I won’t repeat the whole.

So, then I ran across the question of “Is the myth of Wonder Woman a lie?” That got me thinking some more.
I spent a lot of time in The Scribbler’s Guide to the Land of Myth looking at archetypal patterns that are specific to women, among all the other things I was analysing. But even those patterns are not completely gender exclusive. Most archetypes can apply to either men or women. I’m not going to repeat all that: it’s easily found in the book. Please, check it out in the book.

We have to first ask what is meant by “lie”. Are we asking whether something is congruent with scientific and historical fact? After all, lies are about what is untrue. Or are we asking whether something reflects a genuine emotional state that many people experience? Or an ideal that would be an actual improvement over current conditions? When we get to discussing whether emotional states or imaginative and idealistic considerations are “untrue”, we move into more ify territory. How do you tell someone that their subjective emotion response to something is a lie? How can that be a lie?

Secondly, we have to ask (again) what really is the myth of Wonder Woman? I point back to my previous post on the character.
But let’s look at the details, giving the whole question a detailed consideration.

Are Amazons (warrior women, not residents of the Amazon river basin) real? As a race or society in the modern world? No, they are not. Were the mythic Amazons real? That’s uncertain, and more a question of archeology and cultural anthropology. We do have many women serving as warriors, though, and doing so with competence and honor. So, we could call those female soldiers (and sailors and marines and members of the air force) “Amazons”. Which would make “Amazons” real in fact, and so since they exist, they wouldn’t be “a lie.”

Are the comic book Amazons real? No, it’s fiction. Within the “universe” of DC Comics, sure they exist there. But in our flesh and blood world? No. So the next question is whether Wonder Woman as we get her in stories exists or not? And since she is a fiction, her stories exist, as fiction.
But does any of that make “the myth of Wonder Woman” a lie? No.

What is it that we look for, when we look at heroes and their stories, their myths? What is the truth we seek in these things? We seek models, ideals, inspiration. We seek models of behavior that can help us cope more successfully with the world around us. We seek ideals that we can aspire to, the “best of the best” that we would want to be like. We seek inspiration that can help us in difficult times, just that spark of determination that will help us over the last difficult slope.

Wonder Woman is a high profile figure – the most widely known female superhero. Since her creation, she has held that eminent position.
So where does the question come from, that asks whether “the myth of Wonder Woman is a lie”? Is this a male versus female matter? Where male chauvinism seeks to suppress any independent female?

In the 1970s, when modern feminism came to the forefront, there was certainly a lot of discussion of how men “kept women down”. Even as circumstances were changing, the debate went on (and, actually, still does continue). So it is interesting that in that era, the editorial decision was made to “de-power” Wonder Woman.

 

At that time, “de-powering” her was a way of making this role model more accessible to the “average woman”. She became a martial artist and still continued to help people, especially other women. Of course, male superheroes don’t get “de-powered” for that reason. So, even in attempting to make her “more accessible”, a cultural double standard was in action: women need a more “realistic” role model, something they can actually achieve, while men can be inspired by improbably powered heroes because they understand how fictive heroes work as inspiration. (Okay, so I’m being snide about this. But the double standard was a little bit in effect.) Mind you, this “de-powering” was not done at the behest of the feminists. In fact, it was feminists who led the call for a return of “classic Wonder Woman.”

She got her powers back in an inevitable ret-con. But Princess Diana has still been challenged in her position. In the 1990s, she lost her title as Wonder Woman.
 

But in this case, it was a matter of a specific story arc (wherein her mother was actually trying to protect Diana: it had been prophesied that “Wonder Woman” would die, so she orchestrated a substitution, but Diana was not told until Artemis, the substitute, died). However, one of the key things about this story arc was that it affirmed Diana’s position as a leader, not just of women but of her heroic peers. At the time, Diana had been the leader of the Justice League: when Artemis attempted to claim that position as well (as an extension of her duties as “Wonder Woman”), the League members made it clear that they followed Diana, not a title. Although she had “lost the right” to the emblems of her title, she continued in her heroic ways.
She regained her title, of course. Because she is Wonder Woman.

So, what would it be like without Wonder Woman in our imaginative field?

Certainly, there have been heroic women in the history of the world. Joan of Arc, for instance, who led the French to reclaim lost territories from the English, and who inspired a timid prince to claim his royal title of king. Elizabeth I may not have led on the battlefield, but she battled the chauvinism that claimed that women could not rule, outwitting men left and right (even her own advisors) in order to hold the power herself. There are historical models of strong, heroic women.

And yet, to have such a model in fiction, is an important thing.

She was a ground-breaking character when her creator Marston introduced her. He specifically intended her to be a role model and inspiration to girls, to parallel the inspiration the male superheroes were to boys. He had hit on a crucial thing: yes, girls and women do need a mythic or imaginative role model. But it goes beyond that. By accepting this strong female character into the imaginative field, all readers gradually accept the right of female characters to even be in the field. These days, of course, Wonder Woman has been joined by a whole force of female superheroes, each touching some chord in the audience (and no, they aren’t just sex-fantasy figures, no matter how frequently the male artists draw them as such).

So, this brings us back to our original point. What makes a myth a lie? Is it even possible to do that? If the myth speaks to something important in the audience, to the degree that it is communicable and durable, then there is truth in it. Not factual truth, perhaps, but emotional truth and truth in meaning.

So what’s the answer? The answer is: No, the myth of Wonder Woman is not a lie.

 
 

Images are the property of DC Comics.
As always, talk back here on on my MESSAGE BOARD.
 

 

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A Game for Tricksters and Shapeshifters

May 24th, 2010

We don’t often think of mythic archetypes as something we would apply to our daily lives.  And yet our own little personal mythologies can shape our social interactions.

I’ve been thinking about this lately, while wathcing Season 20 of Survivor.  Twice a year, this show sends a bunch of people off to some remote location, puts them through a variety of contests and then makes them vote each other out of the game.  Because the players are all living together in rough camps, the nature and quality of their social behavior can have a big effect on how far an individual may last in the game.  And the game is designed in such a way that merely getting to the Final Two or Three is not necessarily an indication of good gameplay on your part: it could be because other players know you are so disliked that if given a choice between you and themselves, the jury (players previously voted out) will not give you the big prize.

Over the years, there have been those who believed that winning at challenges is the key to winning the whole.  Or making big plays to dump athletes or very social players.  Some have believed that controlling all actions of their alliances is the winning way.  Others choose to stay under the radar, not being too outstanding, or too obnoxious, or too visible in any fashion.

But all of these approaches are affected by the presentation each player makes of his or her self.  This seemed particularly evident in Survivor’s Season 20, which was labeled up-front “Heroes Versus Villains.”  In this case, the players did not really self-select these designations.  And yet, some embraced the labels, some rejected them, and some didn’t care.  On an obvious level, Rupert deeply embraced the designantion of “hero,” to the degree that he was very reluctant to ally with a so-called “villain.”  Colby as well clung to his perception of “playing with honor.”  Russell gleefully plowed through players as chief villain (calling himself “king” several times).  Coach, who seemed disconcerted to be classed as a villain, set out to play with what he perceived as honor and warrior ethics.

The problem with all this is that the game of Survivor is not designed to accommodate such self-perceptions.  The social aspect of the game ends up ruling the final decisions of the jury, the people who will choose the million dollar winner.  Thus, insisting that just being “athletic and winning challenges” won’t help someone who doesn’t get along with his or her tribe-mates.  For those who believe they can “play with honor,” the reality is that they will have to breakk a promise at some point if they want to stay in the game.

The game of Survivor favors those who can operate in the modes of the mythic figures of Tricksters and Shapeshifters.

The Trickster, let us remember, is one who punctures illusions, works from the position of being an underdog, and who keeps the sense of humor at hand.  Not that the ojbect is to be the “class clown,” but rather to keep the sense of balance in the face of incongruity.  Tricksters keep an eye toward the best opportunities for bringing down “the big guys.”  A Trickster knows vividly he or she is at a disadvantage at all times, and so never lets down the guard.  If switiching alliances or just one vote serves the Trickster, that person will do it.  And all the while, the Trickster will work at maintaining public humor, in order to keep the social situation from turning against him.

The Shapeshifter, by contrast, is the one who keeps secret some key piece of information.  In Survivor, that could be a hidden alliance or possession of a hidden Immunity Idol.  A Shapeshifter will change voting targets as the game changes.  A Shapeshifter will change social activity as circumstances change: such as letting someone else “provide food” for a long time, until that person is no longer needed for strategic purposes; as soon as it is an advantage, the Shapeshifter will become a “provider” (assuming possession of that skill).  Another Shapeshifter might hold off in physical challenges until late in the game, when individual immunity is most important.

The way to deal with a Shapeshifter is either change shapes with that person or to hold onto them until they reveal their “hidden truth.”  When applied to Survivor, I suppose that means “be in an alliance with them.”

But note, of all the mythical archetypes, these two are best adapted to changing circumstances.  They are not the ones who come into the game and stick to a rigid personal mythology.  “Heroes,” “villains,” “warriors,” “honorable player,” “pure athlete,” all those personal labels end up tripping the players who cling to them.

As I said, applying mythic motifs to our “real world” lives takes some careful consideration.  Real lives tend to be more complicated than “story lives.”  And yet, because myth is about meaning, we do, in the end, tend toward the mythic shapes that best convey our “personal meaning.”  It’s an interesting prospect to consider.  What mythic forms are most important in your life?  And how do they become manifested in your lifte?

I’m going to have to go think about this some more.  I’ll be interested in anyone’s thoughts about it.

As always, feel free to comment here on the blog, or visit my MESSAGE BOARD for more free-form discussion if you want.

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Rick Castle - Trickster or Shapeshifter?

February 23rd, 2010

When we encounter a comedic character in stories, we often quickly categorize them as belonging to the Trickster archetype.  After all, most sidekicks are Tricksters, providing the comic relief, often serving to deflate the ego of the main character (think Star Trek and Dr. McCoy: “I’m a doctor, Jim, not an engineer!” or “… a bricklayer!”).  The clash between the Trickster and the main character frequently provides the comedy we see in stories.

When we look at the character Rick Castle, of ABC’s series Castle, are we looking at a Trickster character?  His sense of humor does work a bit in needling Detective Kate Beckett.  But I don’t think that is what is happening in the series.  Especially when Beckett needles and punctures Castle in return.

So, if Castle isn’t a Trickster, what is he?  I contend that he is a Shapeshifter.  We don’t see this archetype quite as often in stories, especially as an on-going character.  Let’s review some of the characteristics of the Shapeshifter.  The most important aspect is that the Shapeshifter is a keeper of special information.  The “trick” is to get the information out of the Shapeshifter, because the Shapeshifter often doesn’t want to reveal all that special knowledge.  The options for the character seeking the information are to either hold onto the Shifter as he or she goes through changes to hide the information, or to keep pace, changing with the Shifter.

Castle puts on many different shapes in the series.  And he’s not pretending in any of the shapes — he really does become them.

Most obvious to start with is Castle’s shape as a best-selling author.  He’s not pretending in this shape: he works for it and has a string of titles that justify the attention he gets in this shape.  He uses it frequently to evade intrusion into his personal life (including warning his daughter against visiting the “fan websites”).  This shape gives him entre to many special areas of life.

One of those “special areas” is that of “High Society.”  In that arena, Castle turns into the “wealthy, elegible bachelor” who mixes with the upper crust of New York social life.  Again, his presence there is not a pretense.  He knows the functions (such as the quarterly fund-raising benefits for a city dance company) and is considered a legitimate member of those circles.  In this shape, Castle can give Beckett access to information she might not get in her own guise of “detective.”  And note: she has to change shape with him to access that knowledge.

He does, of course, put on some guises for the mere fun of it.  But the fun and playfulness are actually necessary features for a well-balanced psyche.  He dresses up for Halloween, he plays fencing games with his daughter, he makes silly bets with the detectives.  Is he hiding a truth in this guise?  Perhaps.  Not one for himself, but rather one that Beckett needs.  She needs the playfulness he brings to counter the real emotional weight of the work she does investigating murders.

One of the realities of life that Castle deals with in the series is the fact that he is the single parent of a teen-aged girl.  He makes comedy out of it by putting on the exaggerated aspect of the “Prom Dad” (where the father of the girl frightens the date into behaving himself).  But even though Rick exaggerates it, it is also the reality.  He is not a neglectful parent.

Indeed, his shape as “Parent” is one of Castle’s truest forms, revealing the truth about his personality underneath all his playfulness, evasions and flippancy.  He is genuinely concerned about how Alexis proceeds in life.  And likewise, he does not conceal much from her — except perhaps the depth of his feelings for Beckett.  She, however, is a wise child, practiced in learning the secrets of a Shapeshifter and she already has an awareness of the connection between the adults.

But along with being a father, one of Castle’s most essential shapes is that of a researcher.  He has been shown doing careful research for his books.  He knows how to ask telling questions and he knows where to find sources.  When Beckett’s cases take them into strange territories, Castle’s research abilities (either past or present) give the pair special knowledge they need to solve the current mystery.

Castle and Beckett work as a team, and that, as much as the multiple guises Castle has, is another thing that shows Castle is a Shapeshifter and not a Trickster.  Remember, a Trickster’s job is to deflate the over-blown aspects of other characters.  But Castle never does that to Beckett.  He supports her in her pursuits.  He might be slightly more accommodating to her than Shapeshifters usually are — and yet, he does not (or at least has not yet) reveal to her all his hidden truth.  And that’s part of the fun of the series.

So … my call on Rick Castle is that he is not Trickster, he’s a Shapeshifter.  Hold on tightly and you will learn the truth.

Please feel free to comment or ask questions here or on my MESSAGE BOARD.

All pictures are copyright ABC Studios.

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Beyond the Avatar

February 1st, 2010

Although there are many things I could critique about James Cameron’s blockbuster film Avatar, I’ll limit myself to a discussion of his principal character, Jake Sully.

Although there is an archetype known as the Wounded Healer, I think it would be a mistake to assign this title to Jake.  As we will see, “healing” is not what Jake brings to the situation.  But he is wounded, and this is something that needs changing, which indicates that Jake is archetypically a Transformer.  I have said that all doctor stories are likely to be about Transformers, but not all stories with a Transformer figure are doctor (or healing) stories.

Jake enters the story as a replacement.  His scientist twin brother has died, and rather than waste the large amount of funds used to create the Pandoran avatar, the runners of the program have decided to plug in the genetically compatible Jake.  The fact that Jake is bound to a wheelchair doesn’t matter to them, because the Riders lie in a unit while linked to their avatar.

But everyone (except the malicious Colonel) overlooks the fact that what Jake wants more than anything is to walk again.  The moment he wakes in the Na’vi avataar form, he is fascinated by the transformation, expressed in wiggling his new toes.

But Jake is a Transformer and things change because he is present.  He pays no attention to the warnings to go slow.  Instead he gets to his feet, excited to be able to move freely again, discounting the problems that go with being a ten-foot tall, tailed biped.

The balance in the Avatar program gets changed by the fact that Jake is a trained soldier.  Whereas before all the Avatar Riders were scientists, Jake’s position as a soldier gives him a different point of view and a different way of reacting to the experience.  He changes the course of events simply by being that person.  Because he is chased by animals and separated from the rest of the team, everyone expects Jake to die in the Pandoran wilderness.  Instead, his soldier’s survival training kicks in and he manages to fend fairly well for himself.

It is because he can fend for himself (in spite of not understanding the impact of death in the Pandoran biosphere) that Neytiri’s opinion of him is transformed.  She knows he is an outworlder (his Na’vi body has five fingers per hand as hers does not), and as such she was ready to kill him herself or leave him to die.  But his determination not to go down catches her attention.

Neytiri’s attitude is transformed even further when the flowers of the Spirit Tree settle on Jake in large numbers.  He goes quickly from swatting them away as a nuisance to being the one they are drawn to and accepting them.

Jake transforms his own mindset as he learns more about the ways of the Na’vi.  When daring is needed to inspire the Na’vi after Hometree is destroyed, Jake takes it upon himself to bond with a Toruk, the largest Pandoran flying beast.

His arrival before the refugees turns their hatred of his betrayal (he had told the Colonel about Hometree) into awe and a willingness to follow him.

And that is his final transformation in the story, from the human grunt soldier to the Na’vi warleader.

Jake transforms the situation, to be sure, leading the Na’vi in an assault that defeats the human mechanical forces.  But again, the transformations he brings are not those of healing, rather of combat and conflict.  He brings destruction down on the Na’vi, and then, changing his allegience, he brings destruction and banishment down on the humans.

He does change things by being present — which is the definition of the Transformer archetype.

Feel free to talk about this here or on my MESSAGE BOARD.

All pictures property of Twentieth Century-Fox.

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The Hero Quest and Society

January 4th, 2010

I’m going to add a new feature category to this blog, called “Musings” (to join “Mythic Motifs at Work” and “Writing Tips”).  These will be more general considerations, rather than specific analyses or writing advice.  It is inspired by the search strings that get used to bring people to my website (that is, both this blog and my main website — www.scribblerworks.us).  The search strings often have interesting twists tot hem.

The one I’m musing on today was “how the Hero Quest affects society.”

“Interesting,” I thought.

Okay.  So, first off, which “society” are we talking about here?  The society inside the story, or the society of the audience?  There wasn’t really a way of determining that from the search string, of course.  So why not look at both?

So, let’s start with “inside the story”.

Inside the story, how does the Hero Quest affect society?

Let’s say that the “society” involved is, in terms of the Hero’s Journey, the Hero’s home or starting community.  The one where his interests are engaged.  Either he starts out as a misfit and has to go on his adventure in order to fit, or something is missing in the society and he has to go find it to repair the lack in the society.

The first possibility means that the Hero’s Quest takes someone who doesn’t fit in the community and changes that character to one who will be a benefit to the community.  A ne’er-do-well who becomes a strong leader (Han Solo in Star Wars).  The over-looked pigherder who becomes a king (Taran in Lloyd Alexander’s Chronicles of Prydain).  A rogue computer programmer who frees others from machine mind-control (Neo in The Matrix).  So the end of the Hero Quest in that case certainly has a positive effect on the society of the story.

The second possibility means that whether voluntarily or not, the Hero’s Quest will be a real benefit to the community of the story.  If it is involuntary, our Hero may not have sought out the quest, but he will certainly see it to the end.  Dr. Kimble (in The Fugitive), in trying to clear himself of a murder charge, discovers that a colleague has concealed the real (damaging) effects of a drug in order that he make a fortune.  Kimble’s quest saves the medical community from disaster.  In Deja Vue, an ATF investigator, thinking he will not be able to change the course of a large disaster instead focuses on trying to prevent one murder.  Yet in doing so, he ends up preventing the large disaster, a definite benefit for the society in the story.

This reveals that even though the Quest itself may focus on an individual, there is a community in the background that will be affected.  As the poet Donne put it, “No man is an island.”

So, what about the Society outside the story?

When we move to that level, it becomes a matter of why we tell stories at all.  Soemtimes it is to relate events that have happened, so we won’t forget them.  soemtimes it is to consider what we wish would happen.  Sometimes it is to try and understand why a person would behave in a certain way.  Sometimes it is to hold up a model of what we want to be like.

As a consequence, when we tell a story of a Hero’s Quest, we are, basically, trying to inspire ourselves.  We want to be a resistant to peer pressure as the Hero in The Prisoner (the original, that is).  We want to believe we can be as inspired and committed to our craft as Mozart is in Amadeus.  We want to believe that we too can be as faithful in hardship as Sam Gamgee in The Lord of the Rings.

Indeed, in The Lord of the Rings, at a dark point in the quest Sam shares with Frodo, Sam muses about the stories he had heard and that fueled his imagination — and he takes heart and determination from them.  He does not claim the high level of his “story-book” heroes, but rather that he be like them in even just a little way.  And he succeeds.

That is what society outside the story gains — inspiration, moels, the belief that we can change and improve things around us.  So… let the questing never end.

Feel free to comment here on the blog, or on my MESSAGE BOARD.

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A Functional Father Figure

December 23rd, 2009

When I was doing the research and development of The Scribbler’s Guide to the Land of Myth, one thing I discovered was that there is not much literature on parental figures.  Joseph Campbell makes glancing references to Father Figures and Mother Figures, particularly in their negative manifestations, but little else.  So I tackled the problem of developming a systematic structure for just what these figures ought to be, so that I (and of course, other storytellers) would be able to analyse the dynamics when I put one of these figures into a story.

The first thing I realized is that although mentor figures are also representatives of parental figures, they are not completely so.  Thus, while a Mentor may be a Father Figure, a Father Figure is not necessarily, or not only, a Mentor.  So what else is going on?

What it boils down to (if you want a fuller explanation, get the book!) is that a Father Figure has five functions: Protector, Mentor, Priest, Judge, Ruler.  Any particular story relationship might focus more on one function than another, but they all contribute to the over-all picture.

Which brings me to one of the best examples of a Father Figure currently running in popular culture: Leroy Jethro Gibbs on the show NCIS.

Now, because of the bantering and teasing play of Gibbs’ support team, some have called the regular characters a dysfunctional family.  This is a mistake: this group is highly functional.  The sibling-like squabbling and pranking should not be mistaken as dysfunction.  Each team member understands his or her place in the group and delivers on the responsibilities.  Trust runs strong among them and there is very little abuse of position — all signs of effective functionality.  Perhaps we are so used to seeing the failure of functionality that it has become the “standard” and true functionality seems “dysfunctional.”

In any case, the successful functionality springs from the effectiveness of Gibbs as a Father Figure.  So let’s consider it at work.

As a Mentor, Gibbs uses his “strong, silent” manners to demonstrate to Timothy McGee and Ziva David how to be an excellent investigator.  These two, for different reasons, have needed the instruction a Mentor can provide.  And they have learned successfully from Gibbs.

McGee, when sent into a women’s prison to question a possible suspect on a cold case, finds himself the on-scene investigator of a killing.  Because he has learned from Gibbs how to read the evidence and how to read people, he is able to sort it out.

For Ziva, trained in espionage and assassination, learning to investigate and interview has run counter to her impulses.  But because Gibbs by every indication shows her that he believes her capable of the new methods and expects her to act on them, she learns.

The Priestly function of a Father Figure is the aspect that acknowledges the achievement and mastery of “the child.”  And Gibbs always delivers that affirmation when it is really needed.  He has given McGee affirmation that he has become a good investigator at a time and in a way that makes public Timothy’s growth, by saying it in front of Tony DiNozzo, who relentlessly exercises the “superior” priviledges of an older brother to Tim.

But Gibbs has also done the same for Tony: during a case in which Gibbs had given Tony the lead, Tony becomes so frustrated that he begins verbally abusing the team.  Gibbs takes Tony aside and tells him he had been doing a good job … up to that point.  The fact that this is a “priestly” action is shown by the fact that Gibbs addresses DiNozzo as “Anthony,” something he almost never does.  Tony is both chastened and encouraged by this.

As the boss of the team, Gibbs is in fact the Ruler of them all.  But one of the duties of the Ruler is to command the discipline of his subjects, and this is the need Gibbs fills for DiNozzo and Agent Kate Todd.  Although Tony is actually a good investigator, his own impulses are to flake off, chasing pretty women or playing games.  Gibbs enforces discipline and so gets excellent work out of Tony.

Kate, though she came to NCIS from the Secret Service, also had some need of the discipline Gibbs requires.  In the pilot, she is shown as having become romantically involved with a co-worker on the Presidential detail, something that would never have happened if she’d been under Gibbs’ rulership.

As a Protector, we see Gibbs protecting both Abby and Ziva.  When Ziva was framed for the assassination of someone under FBI protection, it is to Gibbs (and not her own father) that she turns to, to get her out of it.  And he does. 

When Abby is stalked by an ex-boyfriend, Gibbs becomes very fierce in resolving the matter.   (As all the team acknowledges, Abby “is his favorite.”)

To all of the team, he is their Judge: he evaluates their work, and they turn to him for his opinion on everything other than romantic attachments (his three ex-wives serving as a warning to them that he is not perfect, especially in that).

So far, the points I’ve made have been about what Gibbs gives to his team, what needs he addresses for each of them.  But what does he get out of it?  What makes it possible for him to continue playing Father Figure to this unlikely “family”?  He gets their nearly undivided devotion.  Abby in particular bestows on him the love of a daughter, which addresses the biggest hole in Gibbs’ own life, since his first wife and only child were killed long ago.  He is not the Father Figure to this group just because they need him.  He is such also because he needs them.

As I said, this team is a highly functional family unit.  If they were dysfunctional, the incidental pains of failure and abuse would be considerably less appealing to the audience.  It is the functionality that propells the show into success and audience affection.

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Signing and Selling at Loscon

November 25th, 2009

This weekend I will be attending Loscon at the Airport Marriott near LAX, here in Los Angeles.  I attended the first time last year, and kicked myself for skipping it all these years (I have a lot of friends who go regularly).  It was fun.

This year, as a member of the Greater Los Angeles Writers Society (known as GLAWS) I’m taking part in a couple of panels.  One is on Writing Hard Science Fiction When You Are Not a Scientist.  The other is on World Building in Science Fiction & Fantasy.  They both should be great discussions - my fellow panelists are great.

I’ll also be at the GLAWS booth in the dealers room, from time to time (depending on the con schedule).  I’ll have copies of The Scribbler’s Guide to the Land of Myth for sale — with a special discount on the price for attendees at the con.

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Everyone is on a Journey

September 28th, 2009

A lot has been written about the Hero’s Journey.  Even I have tossed in my two cents worth on the matter.  It can be very, very hand for any writer to know the shape of the Hero’s Journey.  But many writers have gotten stuck on a single model, Chris Vogler’s redaction of Joseph Campbell’s outline.   I’m not saying that it is a bad model, for it isn’t.  But the problem of being stuck on it is that the Vogler/Campbell outline is not the only one available.

It is entirely possible for a writer to be on fire for his story, and struggling to get his plot to “fit” the Hero’s Journey outline that he knows — only to dispair because his story doesn’t want to go that way.  It’s possible for that frustratd writer to think that he is wrong about his story (even though he is still jazzed by it, in the back of his head).  So he stops.

Now, it’s my feeling that no writer should give up on a story that excites him.  It may be a mess, plot-wise, and need work.  But no writer should feel she has to give up on something just because it doesn’t fit one outline.  So, that’s why I felt it important in The Scribbler’s Guide to the Land of Myth to mention some of the principal variations of the Hero’s Journey that I have encountered over the years.  The different outlines often have elements not included in the Vogler/Campbell model.  But every writer should also remember that these things are not cut in stone: they are very flexible, and you can move things around a bit, to suit your own story.  After all, you are the storyteller.

Getting comfortable with the Journey your Hero is on is only the first step, however.  If you want to add depth to your story, and to help the other characters take on substance, you need to remember that the Hero is not the only character actually going on a “journey” in your story.  The villain is pretty sure he’s the Hero of his own life.  And your love interest or B Story sidekick is also making a journey.  Do you know the shapes of their Journeys?

This brings us to another reason why there is an advantage in knowing multiple versions of the Hero’s Journey.  Your three principal characters do not have to be traveling according to the same pattern.  In fact, it can be very interesting if they are not.  Nor does everyone’s Journey have to start at the same point.  For instance, your villain’s journey may begin well before the point where you want to start the story.  This could turn into what Blake Snyder called Act Zero material.  The Journey for your B Story character may not be so complicated.

The mechanics of coordinating the different Journeys will reveal how well you understand your plot.  A villain’s high point may be your Hero’s darkest moment, or it may just be one of the trials and tests the Hero meets.  It’s your story.  You decide.  But at this point, index cards or a computer program that has a similar function, where you can shuffle and mix individual story beats can be a big help.

And there can be great satisfaction in looking at the meshed outline, mere you can clearly see where each charcter is on his or her particular Journey.  When you realize you know exactly what the villain wanted as his victory and what is a set-back for him; when you know just what the B Story character’s Journey is, at that point your story become more solid and deeper.

Everyone is on a Journey.  Everyone has a goal.  They may not all be met by the events in your story.  But when you start constructing things this way, you will discover that it is very useful.

As always, if you are interested in talking more about this matter than blog comments allow, visit my MESSAGE BOARD.

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Burning Jeopardy

August 13th, 2009

One of the many things I talk about in The Scribbler’s Guide to the Land of Myth deals with franchise storytelling.  This can cover comic book series, sets of movies, television shows or a string of novels.  Most such creations are built on what I call the “Incidental Jeopardy” context: that means that in any specific story, your main character (upon whom the franchise depends) has a 50/50 chance of failing to meet his or her goal.  But some other series get set up where the main character is driven by some burning goal.  I call this the “Constant Jeopardy Syndrome,” where the set up is such that if the main character ever reaches his goal or solves the Big Problem of his life, the series ends.

In the book, I discuss the problems encountered with the Constant Jeopardy Syndrome, especially that involved in keeping the characters emotionally realistic.  The point is that when over a long span of time a character fails to solve the Main Problem in his life, he tends to lose emotional credibility, especially if the constant failure doesn’t seem to faze him.

Cable’s USA show Burn Notice is constructed on a Constant Jeopardy Syndrome: Michael Westen used to be a spy and got burned — this means he has been black-listed and rendered an official non-person, no bank accounts, no official records (driver’s license or passport).  The series deals with his attempts to find out who burned him, why, and his getting himself reinstated.  (And if he ever achieves all of these, it’s likely the show would end.)

Since Michael is presented from the beginning as being one of the very best at his job, if he did not make some progress in his quest to solve his Big Problem, we would quickly lose interest.  Fortunately, the series creator and writers address this by giving Michael progressive stages of existence (professional and personal problems) to deal with.

One of the first obstacles he has to face is that he has been dropped into his hometown of Miami, Florida, where he has to deal with his mother.

Madeline Westen is expert at wielding emotional blackmail over Michael — which works because at rock bottom, Michael is a good guy and does love his mother.  Madeline also serves to show that although Michael may be officially a non-person, he also needs to relearn how to be a real person, with a real (ie, emotional) life.

Madeline is assisted in this by the presence of Fiona — the love of Michael’s life.

Fiona’s “official” position is “not his girlfriend.”  Except that she is his ideal partner.  The ups and downs of their relationship ring true, for they are dealing with real issues: the nature of Michael’s old job, what that job requires of his character, how to accommodate another person deeply into your life.

The two characters are alternately obstacles and assistants in Michael’s hunt for information and reinstatement.

First after being burned, he was watched by FBI minders.  He upped the stakes on them, to the point where a special overseer was assigned to keep Michael subdued.

It’s a new problem in Michael’s way, which he removes over the course of a few episodes by creating the appearance that the overseer has been compromised.  This leads to the mystrious organization that burned him revealing itself slightly.

The series very carefully continues revealing obstacles for Michael to overcome.  Each step forward also reveals more of his own character to Michael.  First, he seeks to put a face to his new “manager”, Carla, and in fact draws her out to revealing herself.

She tells him she helped burn him in order to recruit him to the secret organization she serves.  She sets Victor to “manage” Michael.

Victor is like Michael (ie, burned), “but with rabies” (according to Sam Axe, Michael’s friend and sidekick).  Michael transforms Victor from opponent to ally and the pair remove Carla, forcing the organization’s Management to reveal himself.  Michael is offered better conditions in the organization, under the threat of removal of their protections (from enemies and authorities).

Michael opts to reject the protection and the job.  The new set of obstacles in his way toward reinstatement include dealing with a police detective who has suspicions that Michael is behind some unusual occurances in town.

Michael succeeds in turning her from opponent to an at least hands-off observer.  So the next obstacle steps up.  “The Devil” (Strickler) offers Michael assistance at reinstatement, in exchange for Michael working for him.

This is too much for Fiona, who questions what this deal will do to Michael’s character.  This emotional “real person” challenge conflicts with Michael’s desire to be an “official person” again.

Every time Michael progresses closer to his goal, either a new obstacle gets in his way, or the goal becomes slightly redefined and moved.  The writers avoid all the traps of the Constant Jeopardy Syndrome: failure to make any progress toward the goal and/or lack of emotional reality.  The audience is satisfied by the proof that Michael is indeed as competent as claimed (he makes progress), and also maintains a realistic emotional response to both his successes and failures.  The show is a fine example of how to handle the Constant Jeopardy Syndrome.

[I was going to write about Burn Notice in regard to other motifs, but I may come back to them later.]

(Pictures and characters are property of Fox Television and Fuse Entertainment.)

I invite your comments here or on my MESSAGE BOARD.

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