Nate Intolubbe

Author of the Cases of Inspector Marshall

Author: Nate Intolubbe Page 1 of 4

A Different Look at “Show Don’t Tell”

By

On February 25, 2022

In Miscellaneous

Disclaimer: I am not claiming to be a writing expert, rather am learning from what good works have done right, and where others fall flat.

“Show, don’t tell” is one of the most common pieces of writing advice given, and common criticism of literature is when it is not applied.

Merriam-Webster defines “tell” as “to relate in detail; narrate.” “Show” is “to cause or allow to be seen.” By technicality, all writing is “telling,” because it is narrating. Only through pictures, maps, diagrams, etc., can a book be “showing.” The point could be considered moot on this basis.

Granted, this is not the intent of the advice. For the sake of this post, I would define the terms as:

“Show” relates to narration about character actions, body language, and subtext. It is the indirect form of telling.

“Tell” relates to dialogue, and other narration (imagery, character thoughts, exposition). It is the direct form.

Think of it as akin to “actions speak louder than words.” We learn more about a character’s traits by what they do than what is said about them.

A sentence, either narration and dialogue, saying a character is smart is one thing. But a scene where the character solves a tricky problem will solidify their intelligence for the reader.

Does this mean that “show don’t tell” applies in all scenarios? No. Dialogue is still needed to give context to what is shown, and the reader needs to know about the setting. The two create a feedback loop, and the key is balance.

Tell can still give character traits, such as establishing someone’s wit, kindness, or cruelty via their dialogue.

Conversely, if a character refers to themselves as brave, but their actions show them abandoning a friend at the first sign of danger, that shows us two things. One, they’re a coward, and two, they’re a liar. The reader learns this indirectly, and even gains a level of skepticism to what other characters say, all because these techniques work in tandem.

One could say that “show” works best for the “how” of things like characters and worldbuilding (relationships, effects). “Tell” is great for “why” in these regards (motivation, background, causes). Additionally, “tell” helps be concise through narration using similes and other literary devices.

“Show” would be saying: “After the test, she slumped onto her kitchen table and rubbed her temples.” “Tell” would be saying: “After the test, her brain felt like a donkey had kicked it.” In this case, the latter conveys the same concept, yet the directness makes it more effective because the simile says to what extent the feeling is. A strict following of “show don’t tell” would subtract so much value from the text by drying the life out of it.

The better way to phrase this advice is “show and tell when needed.” Developing this discretion is a key to becoming a good writer, and one I hope to achieve the more I work at it.

5cream: A Review

By

On January 14, 2022

In Miscellaneous

I had the pleasure of watching the latest Scream film earlier today. This post will have my non-spoiler review.

Scream is a slasher murder mystery (a slasher mystery?) series, which uses awareness of the horror genre to offer very meta satire. It comes from Wes Craven, the same mind behind Nightmare on Elm Street.

Like The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, and many other slashers, Scream (1996) is a fantastic comedy. But the Scream franchise goes beyond that with its self-awareness, such as commenting on itself through the characters.

The latest (and fifth) installment released today, and due to conflicting titles, I will refer to it as “5cream.” Out of the franchise, this is my favorite sequel. It had good use of the original material and characters, while offering new elements that I enjoyed.

5cream‘s protagonists bring compelling arcs that actually made me hope they live. In most other slashers, I root for the killer, due to the undeveloped/unlikable victims. The essence of horror is to give us characters we like, so that we actually fear for their survival; yet in the genre, this is pulled off less frequently than one would think. This is a case of the satire being better than the target (like Hellsing UA).

The commentary on modern movies and fandoms works well. 5cream does a good job adapting horror to the changing face of technology. The action scenes are very on-brand, with fun references to previous films while bringing their own flavor to the table. Sidney, Gale, and Dewey had realistic arcs that do not overshadow the main story.

My personal ranking for the Scream franchise is: Scream > 5cream > Scream 4 > Scream 2 > Scream 3.

My rating for 5cream:

Plot: 3/4

Characters: 3/4

Worldbuilding: 2/4

Details: 3/4

Misc.: 4/4

Total: 15/20

Fans of the series have plenty to enjoy. My expectations were a bit lowered, considering that Halloween Kills was underwhelming; but, 5cream has learned from the mistakes in previous films to give an entertaining experience.

Dr. Jekyll: Misunderstood, for the Wrong Reasons

By

On June 2, 2021

In Literature

I am returning to blog writing. While there is no theme for this month, I do have several posts planned out for the time being. This week, I am looking at a literary figure who many are aware of, without fully knowing him.

The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, by Robert Louis Stevenson, has a unique place in literature. On its own, reading it without any cultural knowledge, the twist is pretty good. Yet, so many references to it in pop culture have spoiled the ending, to the point that people often miss its true meaning.

Even so, per my usual policy: ***SPOILERS AHEAD***

Pretty much everyone knows that Hyde is Jekyll’s alter ego, the result of a potion the latter developed. The doctor is a calm, collected man; his other half, a violent ruffian more beastlike in demeanor.

This is where misinterpretations kick in, which I would argue is largely because many don’t read the book after it is widely spoiled.

In many adaptations and summaries, Dr. Jekyll is portrayed as the good side, with Mr. Hyde as evil. That is an intuitive angle on it, given literature’s common motif of good and evil as a dichotomy, usually between the protagonist and antagonist. In this mental model, Jekyll is the hero and Hyde the villain.

The original text, however, clues otherwise. The doctor’s letter in the final chapter gives a full rundown of his perspective (as the novel up to that point follows a different character, Utterson). It starts with Jekyll needing to drink the potion to become Hyde. Over time, he transforms into Hyde during sleep and eventually while awake. He needs the potion to turn back into Jekyll, which eventually wears off as he reverts to his wild persona.

During this time, his “evil half” attacks people and even murders someone. Jekyll tries to stop chugging the madman juice, but gives in, and continues a downward sprial. He runs out and permanently becomes Hyde, who eventually kills them both, a rare instance of double suicide.

What we can interpret from this is that Hyde is evil…

…and so is Jekyll, for causing it all.

The common interpretation is wrong. Jekyll (whose name literally means, “I kill”) is just as much the villain as Hyde. They are not benevolent and malevolent halves of a man, but two halves of an already evil person. His struggle is not between good and wickedness, but his desire to harm, and his fear of being caught.

If a guard knows that a prisoner is waiting to assault people, and willingly springs him from jail, he is accessory and accomplice to every crime he commits. Same is true for a client who hires a hitman. Because good people don’t give the wicked a free pass to hurt others.

The dichotomy in this story is one of civility and brutality; of supposed human intellect versus animalistic behavior. Jekyll is evil within the confines of societal upbringing, Hyde is evil when the leash comes off and a person can run wild.

This leads to a major point in the final chapter, where the doctor gives his explanation. When supply is running low, and he needs the potion to become himself again, Jekyll desperately tries to recreate the formula. One component, a salt, is not mixing as it previously had; he realizes that the salt he made the original potion with had an impurity he could not replicate. A direct parallel to how his intentions were never pure.

The potion largely removes inhibitions, revealing parts of him that civilization makes him hide (hence, “Hyde”). By all means, one could argue that Hyde is more of the doctor’s true self than Jekyll is.

Which could explain why the transformation back became more difficult. It could be symbolic of addiction, and it could also represent his subconscious desires overpowering his “rational” mind. The lock on the cage growing weaker every time it opens.

The influence of this concept reaches to today. The Incredible Hulk, an icon of Marvel Comics, takes inspiration from the novel. And, possibly added to the common modern perception. Bruce Banner is the genuinely good-hearted scientist that Jekyll is mischaracterized as, and the Hulk’s great size led to many adaptations making Hyde a similar huge creature (whereas in Stevenson’s book, the wild half is smaller than the doctor; not an ogre, rather a particularly bold goblin).

Through all of this, a reading of the book based on its true text is largely different from the common understanding. The way it has aged over the years has little to do with its contents (as the text holds relevance in the modern day), and more with how people are exposed to the story with misconceptions attached to it.

After over a century of publication, it still continues to teach.

When Genres Collide: World War Z

By

On February 24, 2021

In Literature, Reviews

Today is the anniversary of the release of my first novel, The Cases of Inspector Marshall, Volume I. A thanks to all who have helped with their feedback, reading, and time are more than called for; I appreciate all of your support.

Volume II is in production, and mostly complete. Keep an eye out for a release this summer.

With that, I am diving into another case study on blending genre: World War Z: An Oral History of the Zombie War by Max Brooks. The book, not the Brad Pitt movie. We do not speak of that, unless in jest.

*****SPOILER FREE*****

A war epic, told like a documentary. A series of interviews with people across the world, giving their account of the zombie apocalypse and humanity’s narrow victory. A large-scale simulation that tackles the enormous and pressing question of:

What would happen if a zombie plague were real?

Despite the wide scope, the novel does a great job in giving detailed and nuances perspectives. Each interview narrows in on a couple topics, fleshing each one out. A puzzle piece with intricate artwork, filling out the full picture.

The dialogue reads like a journalist conducting an interview, giving it an organic flow that augments the immersion. It adds a unique take on the zombie phenomenon, which usually goes for themes of rugged survivalism and heavy in-the-moment tension. These are people with hindsight, who look back with pride at their successes and guilt at their failures, trying to consolidate what they went through. In a sense, the journalist is like a therapist for the trauma that the war inflicted them with.

The zombie genre, like the epic, is largely a tale of humanity. One faces a choice when besieged by the embodiments of death, of ruin, of a reversion to the mind of a wild animal; for zombies often represent the fear not only of death, but losing everything about who we are. We can choose to stand and fight; to create fraudulent solutions; to develop technology to save lives; to isolate and break down social order; to calculate a cold-hearted plan of sacrifice and strategy. Some rise to the challenge, and others become as much a threat as the living dead themselves.

Staring down the idea of no longer existing shows someone who they really are.

The zombie apocalypse is relatively new to the field of human literature, as juxtaposed to the ancient storytelling form of the epic (though the Epic of Gilgamesh, one of the oldest surviving works of all time, does have zombies in it). The title “Oral History” brings up the Homeric oral tradition, which itself includes a tale of war (The Iliad) and the quest to recover from it (The Odyssey).

The people of WWZ have had their Iliad, and this is their Odyssey to return to “normal” life. Other epics, like those of Tolkien and C.S. Lewis, deal with similar themes, as these authors (WWI veterans) used their works to capture the emotions of their generations. Young people who fought in trenches, besieged by tanks, mines, and mortars, who returned home and had to change to “normal” life. And, ultimately, these stories conclude that life will not be normal again, and people most now navigate a new and unfamiliar world.

And what are battles against zombies, orcs, or minotaurs, but analogies for the erasure of humanity? Not only dehumanization of the enemy, but the risk of oneself falling to that?

Brooks elegantly addresses these age-old questions, and framing it like a documentary feeds into the reflective nature of the attempt to answer them.

Plot: 4/4

Characters: 4/4

World-building: 4/4

Details: 4/4

Misc.: 4/4

Total: 20/20

The people of the book better hope that the surviving zombies do not have their own Aeneid.

*****SPOILER REVIEW*****

Paul Redeker is easily one of the most interesting figures in this novel. To concoct a plan so indifferent, emotionless, borderline inhuman, all in the intent of saving humanity, is a great paradox of literature. Whereas the zombies are the savage expression of the loss of humanity, he is the equal and opposite reaction in the form of cold-hearted reasoning.

In a hypothetical case, if your foot had a lethal infection that could rapidly spread, and someone like Paul Redeker were your doctor, he would rip your foot off with his bare hands. Unflinching, unsmiling, unemotional; it is what is necessary to save the whole, no matter the seemingly small cost of the foot, or the pain it brings the rest of you. And all of this, a metaphor for the Redeker Plan. Such a strong contrast with the rest of the book.

I’ll wrap this post up with some of the smaller details I liked that helped give the novel a level all its own, realistic considerations of the zombie apocalypse that people may not have considered.

I liked how tidal zones are extremely dangerous, with zombies being perpetually trapped in the undertow, further creating a worldwide sense of being surrounded. The specialized zombie-killing bullet, designed to lodge into and cook the dead brain, so it does not exit the body and risk infecting fellow soldiers; ingenious. The description of the overrun French Catacombs, and the people who braved it to clear it up, is the stuff of nightmares. The role of the dachshunds in the war brings some charm, and demonstrates how fresh the events are in people’s minds; one of the canine veterans, while old, is still alive. The unknown fate of North Korea adds into the theme of information, indicating that even all of these interviews from a multitude of angles can still have blind spots.

World War Z is easily one of the best zombie stories ever made. It knows when to think big, and it knows when to zoom in. It is a worthy tale in the great search to learn about ourselves.

When Genres Collide: Priest

By

On February 16, 2021

In Literature, Reviews

Continuing my set of reviews based on blended genres, I will go over Priest by Matthew Colville, the first of the Ratcatchers series.

*****SPOILER FREE*****

Priest is self-described as a fantasy hardboiled, combining mystery with the realm of magic and monsters. Suffice to say, I have a soft spot for such a hybrid work (having written one of an expected trilogy of such books).

But rather than following an actual detective, this novel’s protagonist is referenced in its title: Heden, a priest. Not in a “Friar Tuck” sense, as he derives considerable spellcasting power from the deity he worships; for readers less aware of how priest/clerics work as magicians in fantasy, you can think of the concept being similar to Moses causing miracles by the power of God.

Heden’s superior in the clergy sends him to a castle in the middle of the forest, which an evil army is readying to attack. Their protectors, the Green Order of knights, are not helping in this desperate hour, and it is Heden’s task to investigate why.

Our hero does fit the “hardboiled” archetype with his cynicism, a heart toughened with experience with violence and corruption. Yet instead of being a veteran against bootlegging gangsters, he has been in wars against orc-like enemies. His past is gradually shown, which helps inform him as he continues his search. It puts the storytelling tropes of its foregenre, mystery, into the setting dynamic of its backgenre, fantasy, in a way that shows the author’s informed knowledge of both.

The genres blend quite well; the greatest joy, challenge, and pitfall of fantasy is the world-building, while for mystery, it is the building of suspense and intrigue. Heden’s lack of knowledge of the Green Order is a prime example of them coming together. He learns the lore as is relevant (in line with good fantasy), and new information shows that there is more going on than previously believed (in line with good mystery). In other words, the common world-building advice of “don’t infodump” comes in quite handy.

If you like one of these genres, the other, or both, Priest will have plenty of intrigue and magic-packed battles to offer. Written by a fellow Dungeon Master of the Dungeons and Dragons playerbase, I can only imagine what Colville’s game sessions are like.

Plot: 4/4

Characters: 3/4

World-building: 3/4

Details: 3/4

Misc.: 4/4

Total: 17/20

Looking forward to the sequel.

*****SPOILER REVIEW*****

Any story that starts with a person’s head blowing up immediately has my attention. Not only does it establish the stakes, it creates the tone of crime and retribution classic to the ‘detective’ story. And, the scene demonstrates Heden’s magic capabilities.

His journey to Ollghum Keep has its own symbolisms, how he can never blend in, and always makes enemies where he goes. This is a good fusion of the hardboiled detective (always looking over his shoulder for the people around him) and the fantasy adventurer (being a stranger in every town outside of home). This hangs a strong sense of loneliness about him, amplifying the threats around him, and giving uncertainty of who to trust.

I also like how even Heden has things he hides, even outright lying, creating a sense that the reader cannot fully trust him either. The truth about his job and who he serves makes the reveal at the end all the more striking.

His duel with the knight is one of my favorite scenes in the novel. A great way to utilize fantasy’s play on the supernatural, while setting up the suspicious atmosphere in the forest. And the fight itself had its own clever moves.

Ultimately, the stakes show how well the genres mix. There is an evil army out to attack innocent people, as often happens in fantasy; but unlike the backgenre, the hero does not have to defeat the ‘dark lord’ or destroy an ancient relic, rather has to discover the puzzle pieces behind the Green Order’s inaction (true to its foregenre, solving a crime).

Overall, the novel is a great start to the series, and is executed well.

When Genres Collide: The Mandalorian

By

On February 7, 2021

In Miscellaneous

I am diving back into blog writing with a series of film and television reviews, specifically ones that blend genre in uncommon combinations. I am setting a challenge for myself during the month of February: I cannot discuss the same genre in two different posts (though multiples in the same genre in the same post are acceptable.

Today, I look at the series that has taken the Internet by storm: Star Wars’ The Mandalorian.

***** SPOILER FREE *****

Genre has always been a fun topic for me. So, a sci-fi western is a good case study on what one can do with literature; I even wrote my final college essay on genre in Westworld.

First, some context: The Mandalorian is a TV show set in the Star Wars universe, some time after the film Return of the Jedi. It deals with the aftermath of the Galactic Empire’s fall, through the lens of the title character.

The planet Mandalore has a strong warrior culture; whereas the Jedi are a creed of the Light Side of the Force, and Sith a creed to the Dark Side, the Mandalorian way is a creed of prowess in battle, relying not on the Force, but technology and skill. They are typically seen as bounty hunters and mercenaries, with a code of honor and loyalty. The show’s protagonist (nicknamed Mando; though his real name is revealed) is one such figure, navigating a land destabilized from the power vacuum left in the Empire’s wake.

The “Drifter” archetype, especially in the Western sense, pervades Mando’s journey. There is an overall story, and each episode feeds into it; yet many of them are small adventures in themselves, where Mando and his ship resemble the archetypal cowboy traveling the west on his horse. The show carries a similar structure to my own book, so I admired how it managed that.

The visuals are amazing, combined with fantastic cinematography and choreography. It is well humored when it needs to be, and does a great job juxtaposing it with the threatening and serious sides. It knows when to be dark or bright, wide or confined, to set the proper tone. Great performances abound; Pedro Pascal is a driving force of the cast (who learned the hard way to wear a helmet).

The lore is described when relevant, woven well into the plot and dialogue. Veteran fans will appreciate the references, and new arrivals can learn more about the world at a nice pace.

All around, a great series. I definitely recommend it for anyone with an interest in the Star Wars franchise.

Plot: 4/4
Characters: 4/4
World-building: 4/4
Details: 4/4

Misc. 4/4
Total: 20/20

(Disclaimer note: my rating system does not measure “perfection” in a work, nor does a full 20 mean it is without flaw. It is more of a checklist-based system, meaning it hits all the points that I look for in literature.)

*****SPOILER REVIEW*****

Holy fuck, those fight scenes.

The first one in the series? Badass. Temuera Morrison as Boba Fett, going full Haka with authentic Maori martial arts? Badass. Ming-na Wen and Gina Carano blasting fuckers to pieces? Badass. Katee Sackhoff as Bo Katan? Badass. Rosario Dawson as Ahsoka Tano, where she basically says “1v1 me noob”? Badass. Luke in the hallway? Badass.

Season One finale, when Moff Gideon cuts out of the wreckage with the Darksaber? Badass. Dave Filoni knew how to use the canon from Clone Wars and other side media.

I also thought the use of Western tropes was great. The whistle whenever Mando enters a scene. Each season premiere starting with him going into a saloon. Greef putting the Beskar in his shirt pocket had me go, “Oh, that’s like the Bible that stops the bullet.” And then he gets shot in the chest, and pulls it out, I’m like, “Ayyy.” All great ways of blending genre.

Grogu (AKA Baby Yoda) brings a lot of heart to the show. The writing sets up Din Djarin (Mando) so well through his backstory where his dedication to protecting the Child is credible to and adds much to his development.

I thought it was interesting how many people (especially in the Outer Rim, which in itself is like a Western frontier) forgot about the Jedi and the Force, and how they have faded into myth for others. It did much to show the realistic consequences of Order 66, and sets up narrative tension when he needs to find a Jedi. And, it shows us multiple attitudes that people have to the Empire’s fall, from cheering at the Death Star’s destruction to cynicism of the overburdened Republic.

Another interesting take was the way they showed the Imperial perspective. There are simple things, like the cheering after the mining shipment arrives, resembling the Rebellion’s cheers of victory in the films. But what Valin Hess discusses, about freedom bringing chaos that will cause people to seek the Empire for order – that lingers. Mando’s journey shows us how unstable the Galaxy has become, with how raiders, criminals, and warlords have spread out.

It all adds into the stakes, as this show presents a period of transition. The biggest theme is cause and effect, how what the characters do will determine the future for many groups. The political structure of the Galaxy, the survival of the Mandalorian creed, the fate of the Jedi, the path Grogu will take.

And that’s because that is the heart of the Western. The genre itself focuses on the fate of the West, which had been a significant question across the 1800s. Many John Wayne Westerns take place after the Civil War, which itself was a conflict over whether the West would be free or slave states. A good deal of the fighting took place there, and the genre often deals with former enemies interacting in their former battleground.

This is what makes The Mandalorian a true Western. More so than drifters walking into saloons and having standoffs. The Galaxy, like post-Civil War America, is in a period of transition. A force of tyranny has been struck down (for what are the remaining Imperials, but Confederates refusing to admit defeat?) and a war-beaten Republic struggles to maintain liberated territory. And with this, a hero maneuvers contested territory to influence how it will be shaped.

The Mandalorian invokes the tropes of the Western, but also what led to the genre in the first place.

What are your favorite parts of this series? What uncommon genre melds do you like seeing?

Movie Review: V for Vendetta

By

On November 5, 2020

In Reviews

Remember, remember!
The fifth of November,
The Gunpowder treason and plot;
I know of no reason
Why the Gunpowder treason
Should ever be forgot!

V for Vendetta is a frontrunner of the dystopian genre, reaching the levels of Orwell and Huxley in terms of sheer notoriety. It adds much into the conversation, with plenty of strong points, albeit one very heavy weakness (which I’ll get into later).

It originates from a DC comic of the same name, where England has fallen under a far-right dictatorship following a worldwide pandemic.

…

*nervous half-laughter*

…

Anyways, it centers around V, a revolutionary who idolizes Guy Fawkes, and seeks to overthrow the tyrannical government. Yet it’s primarily told through the eyes of Evey, a newsworker and daughter of a political author, who joins V; as well as Finch, a detective tasked with finding V, while instead discovering something else: the truth.

The story knows what it wants to be, making a dictatorship that is threatening but not invulnerable. It knows how to be philosophical and even fun in its presentation. The pacing has plenty of turns, but it rounds itself out well.

Hugo Weaving, despite being in a mask, still gives a great performance with V’s voice and movements. Natalie Portman also does well in representing Evey’s conflicted nature of the grand scale unfolding around her.

The film does a great job at demonstrating propaganda. There are overt instances, like a media anchor immediately thinking of how he can spin an anti-government attack, or how they show the news station shooting. But, some of them are more subtle, like a popular TV show being Storm Saxon, about a white nationalist who battles stereotyped Muslims (who face genocide in this cruel regime). It demonstrates how media can create an image in the public’s mind used to continue discrimination. Including rewriting history, by blaming them for the disease.

Speaking of rewriting history, this leads me to my main issue with the film: the veneration of Guy Fawkes as a symbol for liberty.

Guy Fawkes was an English conspirator who sought to blow up the Parliament building to kill King James, as well as many of the royal line, judges, and Parliament representatives (the latter of whom being the closest thing to democracy and a check on the king’s power); all to set up an absolute monarchy under Catholic rule, and target Protestants. As Alastair Bellany, history professor at Rutgers said, “[Guy Fawkes] may have wanted religious freedom, but it’s unlikely that if he was in a position of power, he would have extended that freedom to his religious enemies.”

In other words, Guy Fawkes wanted to eliminate a democratically elected legislature to begin a campaign of total government power and religious persecution.

You know. Like the evil government in V for Vendetta.

Either V or the creators did not do their homework. Worse yet, the people in real-life who use an absolute monarchist as a symbol against tyranny. If V actually knew that Guy Fawkes wanted to install a monarchy in England with even more power than the last, cementing a dictatorship, he would not support him. Period.

But even as he praises a man who goes against everything he stands for, V still is true to his own values. His own backstory is weaved in well, and the reasons behind his actions are clear. It still gives a great amount of ambiguity to his morality (ex Evey’s repulsion to his assassinating officials, or how he inspires civilians to dress in his costume, resulting in them being gunned down).

Of course, even while trying to be like Guy Fawkes, his plan to complete the destruction of Parliament makes little sense. Seeing how that was the symbol of democracy, and thereby should be something he would seek to protect.

Unless it has to do with the Norsefire Party winning by getting an overwhelming majority in Parliament, and thereby he would view it as a threat… yeah, that makes the most sense.

In any case, the effects of the dictatorship are never minimized. When Gordon does the comedy sketch mocking Chancellor Sutler, it is funny, but the audience knows how much trouble it will put him in. The mere ability to belittle and satirize our leadership is something we take for granted, yet is over so essential to our liberty. The brutality of Creedy, the Fingermen, the concentration camp lab–all based the cruelties inflicted by multiple dictatorships across history.

V for Vendetta tells a great tale of standing up to tyranny. The wit and cultural knowledge is fantastic. I consider it one of the last great dystopian stories, before YA Lit took it over.

Plot: 3/4
Characters: 3/4
World-building: 3/4
Details: 4/4
Misc: 4/4
Total: 17/20

What do you think of this movie? What are some of your favorite dystopian tales?

Note: all works and characters are the property of their respective owners. Copyright Disclaimer Under Section 107 of the Copyright Act 1976, allowance is made for fair use for purposes such as criticism, comment, news reporting, teaching, scholarship, research, commentary, and or parody. Fair use is a use permitted by copyright statute that might otherwise be infringing. Non-profit, educational or personal use tips the balance in favor of fair use.

Villains Month: The Mass of Evil

By

On October 29, 2020

In Literature

Continuing on with October’s look into villains, we now observe the types of antagonists that split away from the individual human.

A group with wicked intent; a force of nature out to get the hero; a concept, as an abstract will of malevolence. All of these serve to make the hero seem much smaller than the threat they face. A bold move, as the author is sacrificing much of an antagonist’s personality for grandeur. High risk, high reward.

The Party from George Orwell’s 1984 is a prime example. There are individuals within, all who carry names and responsibilities, yet they are defined by the whole they serve. The erasure of their identity plays a double role as a way to broaden the threat beyond any one of them, while being a source of commentary on collectivism. It cements how dictatorships require the loss of self to keep people in line.

This is further emphasized with the byline, “Big Brother is Watching You.” The face on the poster is of a person, but the root of the meaning is in the cameras and monitors always surveying citizens. It takes the personal and depersonalizes it, the Party doing upon itself as it does unto others.

This also applies to hive-mind villains too, or anything that attacks as a group (like hordes of demons, or swarms of zombies). It takes the human trait of social cohesion, shows it in a darker light, all while beating us at our own game. Whether loss of identity or life, losing to society or external threats, collective antagonists portray an evil uniquely their own.

There is debate over whether or nor the wild can be villainous, if it’s merely the natural world taking its course. Even then, ‘antagonist’ is more than appropriate in Person vs Nature stories, considering it is the oldest form of conflict. Living things in a continuous struggle to stay alive, going to whatever lengths are necessary. There is never truly a winner in the game of survival, merely those who haven’t lost yet.

Stories of natural disasters are common, as are tales of vicious animals. In many of these cases, emphasizing the wild aspect lends into the unpredictability, thus making it more threatening. A good example is Life of Pi, where the eponymous hero not only has to maneuver the middle of the Pacific Ocean on a life raft, but also having to do so with an actual tiger aboard. Braving the elements, while showing an element of bravery in the face of an apex predator.

Personification of these can work if done right–though it bleeds to a hybrid of Person vs Person, so maintaining the role of nature is essentially to making it work. Too far to that side takes away from the raw destructive force of the wild, which is meant to be inhuman to show the stark contrast from us.

Yet what happens to the opposite extreme, where there is no personality to the antagonist at all? And no, I’m not talking about the Twilight villains. I mean intangible evil–fighting a very concept.

The NeverEnding Story provides a great example of an abstract protagonist. ‘The Nothing,’ an exemplification of the decline of imagination. It wants nothing, it makes no demands, it has no goals. It consumes indiscriminately. Rather than being personified, it is itself a personification, destruction incarnate.

Its lack of a body means it cannot be fought, injured, or killed. This adds into the helpless state of Atreyu, a child juxtaposed against a foe infinitely larger than him. This effectively establishes The Nothing’s threat, while beefing up the stakes as it erodes the very fictional world it takes place in.

But in the end, all fictional villains are but conceptual and intangible figures to us. We fight against abstract ideas every time we attribute one to an antagonist, creating our own battle against evil. And we learn a little more about the darker side of life each time.

The hero’s greatest teacher is not their mentor. It’s their villain. Because they put the protagonist’s actions, character, and values to the test. A well-written clash will end with the hero questioning them all, seeing enough reflected in their foe to gain the self-reflection that the enemy lacks.

What are some of your favorite examples of Person vs Society, vs Nature, or vs Concept? Of the three, which do you prefer?

Villains Month: The Faces of Evil

By

On October 14, 2020

In Miscellaneous

With last week’s basic overview of villain motivations, this next part of October will deal with the types of antagonists, going into how they vary.

In many ways, a villain should complement a character to a similar extent as their best friend, love interest, or foil (if they do not already fulfill this last purpose). This does not require a large amount of history between them, or even a significant rivalry; however, there should still be meaningful parallels between them.

Common ways are having starkly different personalities, as opposites; or having them so similar in mindset that they almost feel like different versions of the same character. A good example of the first is Jack Sparrow and Barbossa, while an instance of the second is Sherlock Holmes and Moriarty.

Family dynamics achieve this, too. Whether it’s Thor and Loki (Marvel or mythology), Zuko and Azula from ATLA, or Hamlet and Claudius, characters related by blood are oft looking to spill it. In many ways, it can show the factors in play that bring people some similar backgrounds into different paths.

With all of this, here are some pointer topics (and subsequent questions) to help flesh out the type of villain intended:

  1. Atmosphere: is this antagonist meant to be more comedic, or serious? What effect does this have on how threatening they are, and how they act? What is the writer trying to evoke through these characters, and how are they meant to be viewed? Are they intended to be compelling, sympathetic, irredeemable, and/or mysterious?
  2. Rationale: is this antagonist motivated by ideology (with a code, philosophy, allegiance to a group, etc.), or are they more of an opportunist/mercenary? If the former, how dedicated are they, how does it effect their behavior, and could they be dissuaded from it? If the latter, how far are they willing to go to achieve their selfish goals, and could they be persuaded into a higher purpose?
  3. Method: is this antagonist more methodical and planning, or adaptive and improvisational? Do they rely more on external or internal processes? Do they approach problems in a concrete or abstract manner? Are they more utilitarian, or do they they also seek meaning through their work? Are they better with people or things?
  4. Attitude to the Hero: does this antagonist view the protagonist more as an obstacle to remove, or an asset to try and bring over? Vice-versa can be asked of the hero towards the villain. Additionally, how significant is the hero to this villain personally (and vice-versa)?
  5. Role in the Story: is this antagonist meant to be more long-term and even recurring, or are they more of a situational villain (ex “bad guy of the week”)? Are they a major threat in the story (ex the main villain), or a secondary threat (a good way to determine this is if any type of ‘final battle’ will occur with them)?

As one would expect, there is some bleed-through on these question answers, and they are not always strictly binary. The answers at one given point in the story may be different than another, because of character change.

And this leads into my final point of the night: villains are people too. All advice on character development applies to them. Especially if they are more long term and major threats, they should have their own story arc as the hero would, as they have the page/screen-time.

Note: all works and characters are the property of their respective owners. Copyright Disclaimer Under Section 107 of the Copyright Act 1976, allowance is made for fair use for purposes such as criticism, comment, news reporting, teaching, scholarship, research, commentary, and or parody. Fair use is a use permitted by copyright statute that might otherwise be infringing. Non-profit, educational or personal use tips the balance in favor of fair use.

Villains Month: The Nature of Evil

By

On October 7, 2020

In Literature

October is upon us. The time of autumn, of scary stories, of costume. Last year, I covered the horror genre, so this time around will look at the role of villains in literature.

Many claim that the antagonist can make or break the story, because conflict is the heart of storytelling, and villains are the blood vessels that carry it out. The main body of literature needs this circulation to survive, and a weakly made villain is akin to an internal bleeding of a plot.

Antagonists are not limited to people, appearing as collectives (person vs society), an animal or force of the wild (person vs nature), or a character’s own mind (person vs self), with a multitude of alternatives. All stem from one fundamental fact of life: a lot of things are trying to kill us. Or, at least there are plenty of obstacles we face while trying to accomplish our goals. In a sense, storytelling gives us a means to cope with this and assess why this happens.

Philosophers, psychologists, and many others have tried to understand the mind behind crime. What drives people to ignore social bonds and kill, steal, assault. Literature has been at the forefront of this discussion, and every fictional villain (no matter how poorly written) adds something to the dialogue.

Greed is a common motivation for many villains, as it is common in real life; yet in stories, this is often considered a weak reason. Too easy to think of and rationalize, an overly simplified answer to a complex question.

Sadism appears frequently too, given the role it plays in many psychologies of serial killers. Like with greed, it may not do well enough on its own, but could be more compelling if paired with other factors.

Compare Walter White from Breaking Bad. He turns to meth-selling and organized crime primarily for money, but the money is to pay for his cancer treatments. Mixing in greed with survival instinct (arguably, the most understandable motive for most people) adds layers of depth behind his motivations. This then makes his Shakespearean tragic fall more impactful.

Also consider many renditions of the Sheriff of Nottingham. The figure does enjoy taking money from commoners, and displays sadistic tendencies in many adaptations. Yet the underlying reason behind it is a man who secured a position of power at a time with limited social mobility, doing whatever he can to maintain his station. It is not entirely about the coin or even the ability to harm others, but the desire to use authority before he loses it.

And the motivations become more complex when you add in reasons that do not seem villainous. Love. Family legacy. Duty.

Irony is one of the few things that will remain eternally beautiful. People die, then rot. Flowers wilt. Art fades and cracks. Even mountains erode, and rivers dry. But irony will never lose its appeal.

I say this, because the best villains have a touch of irony in their nature. Something typically good is used for evil purposes, or a usual herolike figure is the antagonist. The reversal of expectations has us realize that wickedness is not always as straightforward as believed.

Ideas viewed as noble turn vile. Someone we should trust betrays that integrity. All of this warns us not only of the snakes in the rosebush, but that our own perception of morality may not be as pure-hearted as thought.

The trash heap of history is full of people who believed they were doing the right thing. Claiming oneself to be too good to commit evil is the slickest path to villainy, and most have no clue they walk it.

Literature allows these types of discussions. The mirror to see our own flaws, warning us to correct them before it is too late.

What are some interesting villain motives you have read? What makes an antagonist stand out above others?

Note: all works and characters are the property of their respective owners. Copyright Disclaimer Under Section 107 of the Copyright Act 1976, allowance is made for fair use for purposes such as criticism, comment, news reporting, teaching, scholarship, research, commentary, and or parody. Fair use is a use permitted by copyright statute that might otherwise be infringing. Non-profit, educational or personal use tips the balance in favor of fair use.

Page 1 of 4

Next →

Powered by WordPress & Theme by Anders Norén