Gone Too Soon

SyFy is running mini-marathons leading up to Halloween. These are, as you might expect, all supernaturally themed. They kicked it off with "Brimstone" which I saw, loved, and mourned when it first aired and then unceremoniously had the plug pulled early on. The other day they ran a show I'd not heard of (in part because I'd been overseas when it aired), "Haunted," that I enjoyed enough to park my butt in front of the television most of that. (My laptop came downstairs with me, so I didn't completely waste the day.) Like so many other shows, it died quickly, most likely due to ratings and other factors, and like so many other shows, I found myself lamenting it's short run.

This is one of the problems with television as a medium to tell stories in. With books, where once an author has been published, it's a good bet they'll be published again, and so if they have a continuing character you can be guaranteed further exploits. Spenser has been going for nigh on thirty years at this point, and I expect will continue to do so until Robert Parker finally puts down his pen for good. With some ongoing characters that means more growth than others, but is also means there's either a sufficient back catalog to keep you busy, or the promise of future works to happily devour.

In television, however, once the plug is pulled, that's it. (Unless it's a Joss Whedon show, whereby cancellation just leads to a change of media. Though I could use more "Firefly" and less Buffyverse from his comic empire.) The story is done, the actors move on, and whatever interest you had in the story has to make do with either reruns on cable or buying the DVD packages. When they exist. (Which a "Brimstone" collection does not. A serious oversight in my opinion.) You're left with fan-fiction, which is sketchy at best and weird and badly written at worst (recently lampooned to excellent effect in "Supernatural" - which I recommend to horror fans), or crafting your own "what if's" in your head.

If the story ends on a cliffhanger or something like that it can be even more frustrating. I remember a very short-lived series called "The Fifth Corner" that was a spin on the concept behind the "Bourne Identity." It was one of those shows where, for every answer you get, more questions popped up. I liked it, it was well done, and it got far enough where you could tell it was only going to get better ... and then some international something or other happened, I don't remember what, and it got pre-empted for news coverage, and once the something or other was over, the show was gone.

Watching "Haunted" also got me thinking in reverse about some book series. There are a couple I have read where, for whatever reason, as a reader you start to wish the last few books in the series hadn't been written. Books that would have "jumped the shark" had they been television shows. You read them anyways, unless they get really bad, just like you watch them anyway (last season of the "X-files" comes to mind), but you know that pretty much every time you go to read a new installment, it's going to be a disappointment. If the author keeps going, you may even just abandon them entirely. It's enough to make you wish that some series and/or authors were dependent on ratings, and that once they fell below a certain readership they'd be asked to pull the plug on it.

With books, though, unlike in television, once you've managed to get your pilot show aired you're pretty much guaranteed to keep going for as long as you can churn them out. There's always another publisher out there willing to take an author with a proven track record on, even if there last few outings don't get the critical acclaim of the initial forays. (As in television when another network picks it up, that doesn't always mean you get the same quality of stories. If anyone remembers "Sliders" - the version on cable wasn't the one on Fox by any means.)

I suppose it's like that Billy Joel song - "Only the Good Die Young." Only without the whole "rock groupie Catholic girl sex" thing going on.

In the meantime, there's cable television reruns and DVD rentals. And knowledge of the inevitable - that other shows, other stories, will come along, only to be gone just when they were starting to get really interesting.

Mind Games

I have rediscovered my love of crossword puzzles. Well, that might be a little strong. I have always enjoyed crossword puzzles, it's just been awhile since I worked on them with any sort of regularity. However, living in a town where not every source of employment is posted online, I've taken to buying a Sunday paper to peruse the classifieds. (Also helps keep me informed of various local going-ons.) And with the Sunday paper, of course, comes the Sunday puzzle.

As a writer I find these kind of word puzzles useful not just for brain stimulation but also as vocabulary improvement aids. I'd never have learned what "dorp" meant if it hadn't shown up in a puzzle. Mind you, I've had very few occasions to then turn around and use that word in real life, or even in my writing, but I have always been of the opinion that knowledge ought to be acquired for it's own sake. If it's useful, that's an additional bonus, of course, but just knowing things makes my life a little bit richer.

Plus it's useless trivia that can come in handy when watching "Jeopardy" or dropped into conversation. I am a font of useless trivia and otherwise little-used knowledge.

Beyond that, it's just a good way to keep the brain limber. My local puzzle doesn't seem to be the NYTimes one, so it's not as challenging as it could be, but it's enough to get me thinking for a while and doing some mental gymnastics I otherwise wouldn't be doing. I like the bigger puzzles on Sunday, not least because of the theme clues. The smaller weekday puzzles, especially the small ones with mostly three and four letter answers, tend to vex me. I don't know if that's a reflection of my vocabulary being too reliant on more complicated words, or just an inability to think small.

The jumble eludes me completely, even though I do pretty good at Scrabble. I think the difference there is being able to actually move the tiles in the game and shuffle them around. When it comes to shuffling the letters in my head, for some reason it's just not that easy.

(Sudoku? Not a chance. Math is evil.)

So while it does, technically, take away from time I could spend writing, I think it provides a needed and helpful distraction. Besides, all work and no play makes _____ a dull boy. (4 letters)

Wasting Villains

No, this isn't about shooting the bad guys with an oversized gun designed to compensate for the hero's masculinity issues. This is about when a villain's potential goes to waste. When, despite the hype, they're barley on the screen (looking squarely at you, George Lucas, for Episode I) or in the book. When the author makes a big deal about just how evil, and powerful, the villain is, or has created a really great villain... and then doesn't do anything with them.

I have a particular author in mind for this little rant, but I won't name names. (Other than George Lucas... because, really, as much as I like Christopher Lee, Darth Maul deserved more screen time.) Mostly, in the case of the unnamed author, it seemed as though the villain had been relegated to the role of sub-plot, and if you're going to do that, it's all well and good providing that 1: it's the kind of thing you usually write so the audience has no reason to expect otherwise and 2: you don't create a really cool villain that you normally would have done lots with.

This was something I thought Silence of the Lambs did well. Aside from the screen presence of Lecter, he lived up to his potential. He wasn't just the scary guy safely in the glass cage. He gets out. Better still, though he is the subplot, the main villain is also satisfying. (Neither the movie nor the book would have worked half so well otherwise. Sub-plot should never completely overshadow plot.) It was also something the movie sequel screwed up, namely because the director, whom I normally enjoy, went for the shock ending. Only the Lecter we all know and love would never have allowed himself to be in that position.

(Not to mention he doesn't have to amputate his hand. Far less risky to simply take off the thumb, if it comes to that.)

Which illustrates another peril here: you can waste your villain with a single mis-timed scene. Something that doesn't ring true to character. At that point, you leave audiences scratching their heads and wondering what happened to the villain they've been watching all along. Hannibal isn't the only film guilty of this. (The book avoided this pitfall, but fell into another one.)

Mind you, some of those wasted villains have provided me with fodder for my own evil characters. I fully plan to steal the concept for one villain from a certain author who didn't know enough to use what she'd created. Well, "steal" is such a harsh word. I intend to appropriate and use for my own ends.

If you're going to create a strong villain, then you ought to use them appropriately. If not, you might want to start asking yourself if your story needs a villain at all, or if perhaps the motivation for your characters is something else entirely. Villains should be treated like the famous gun Chekov talks about: if they're there, they ought to be used.

The Appeal of Cemeteries

I like cemeteries. Which I realize might sound kind of creepy at first, but as I think I've mentioned I'm a bit of a history buff. So I'm not hanging out in cemeteries to do anything creepy or occultish. I like roaming amongst the headstones, particularly ones that are old, and thinking about the history that is more or less buried beneath my feet.

Obviously older cemeteries are better for this kind of thing. There's a small local cemetery here in town, not very big, and while some of the stones are new, the town itself dates back to Colonial times. I think the town wasn't officially founded until after the Revolutionary War, but there's a historical marker where George Washington passed through on some sort of campaign. None of the headstones in the cemetery were quite that old. There is a marker for the town's founder, who is buried there, but it's clear he was reburied some time long after the initial internment.

Which I did not deduce from some careful historical study, but because I read it on the marker accompanying the grave site.

There are a number of stones that went back as far as the mid 19th Century, and possibly some that went even farther back but which had sadly been worn past the point where they could be read. Part of the appeal is simply knowing I'm looking at something that was put in place over a hundred years or so before I was born. I like being able to touch history, it's one of the reasons old architecture appeals to me.

Of course, the appeal of cemeteries in fiction and other media is usually based on other ideas often associated with them. Those would usually be the creepy aspects. Interestingly, most of those cemeteries all look about the same on celluloid. One of the things I have noticed in my travels is that cemeteries come in all shapes and sizes. On film, and in illustrations (with the notable exception of Mike Mignola of Hellboy fame) they all tend to follow one common layout, with the round headstones and the more spaced-out layout. This was the practice in New England and the Mid-Atlantic states, like my neck of the woods, because space and cultures allowed for it. But it's not always the case.

Asian cemeteries are much different, in part I think because they often cremate and thus have no bodies to bury and take up space. Despite another stereotype, not all Native Americans had a "burial ground." Some cultures wandered off into the woods, others made biers. And Eastern European cemeteries are just... cool. Lots of differing headstones and tombs, often with a great deal of iconography. And of course, even cemeteries around where I live are often a mix of different styles. There are no angles or cherubs in the cemetery here, but there are some obelisks and crosses, along with more traditional slabs. (Including one depicting a golf scene that looks to be from the early part of the 20th Century.)

All of which just illustrates the point that research is important if you're going to set a scene in a cemetery and have it matter what kind of cemetery they're in. Which sometimes might matter even if you don't think it does. No one's robbing graves in New Orleans with a shovel, after all.

Defending the Litte Guy

Everyone hates the Ewoks. This seems to be the universal consensus among legions of Star Wars fans, and one of the reasons why Return of the Jedi was thought to be the weakest of the three films. Then, of course, Lucas made three more films, thereby elevating ROTJ from the bottom of the pile and dropping the Ewoks from "most hated" status. I expect they're at least a distant third now.

I have to admit, I'm not everyone, and I think some of that is rooted in my academic background. One of the chief complaints I've heard about the Ewoks is how they managed to overcome the obviously technologically superior Imperial Forces. (Speaking of which, why is it "Imperial" with an "I" when it's "Empire" with an "E"? Have to find that out one of these days.) This, more than any other argument I've heard, seems to be the main source of ire. I suspect some of it may also be that it was Ewoks, not Wookies, but given the FX constraints of the day I've heard that was largely budgetary more so than anything else.

There might also be some lingering resentment that, for the longest time, the only post Star Wars offerings were a couple of television movies featuring, of all things, just the Ewoks. No mention of any of the rest of the Star Wars universe. Other than the Ewoks, it could have been set anywhere else. But I think a lot of it is that the Ewoks manage to overcome the Stormtroopers.

If we were talking a long, protracted campaign, then I think the critics would be right. There's no way the Ewok would be able to withstand a coordinated campaign. The Empire isn't the Americans in Vietnam, after all. Assuming the planet was worth the effort, they'd wipe out the Ewoks in a heartbeat. Superior numbers, superior technology. If all else failed, they'd just vaporize the planet. (Which I suspect would have happened the moment the Death Star was finished anyway.)

But that's not what happens in the film. It isn't an entire war. It's one battle. Against an indigenous, obviously prepared guerrilla force. Yes, it's a force of three foot tall natives who look suspiciously like a marketing ploy. (It is George Lucas, after all, a marketing mastermind... to a certain extent... and it is Star Wars, which changed the movie marketing game forever.) Yet they know the terrain, they've put together various defensive/offensive efforts that are clearly aimed at the occupying forces - unless there's some T-rex sized predator roaming around that requires the smashing logs suspended from trees - and they aren't entirely alone. They have the Rebel squad assisting them, too.

As someone who's studied military history, I know this isn't the first time a smaller, less-armed force has managed to defeat a large, more technologically proficient force. Little Big Horn comes to mind, among other instances. Guerrilla warfare works for precisely the reasons the Ewoks manage to put a dent in those shiny white uniforms. Smaller, more mobile force, that knows how to use the local terrain to their advantage. In the long term, against a more ruthless force willing to use all the means at their disposal (which most opposing forces aren't - hence the reason we didn't firebomb North Vietnam into a wasteland) those advantages can be countered and overcome.

So, again, in the long term the Ewoks would be toast. Fuzzy toast, likely with the smell of burnt hair which, if you've ever smelled it, is highly unpleasant. But for one, short, pitched battle, with the element of surprise and advanced planning, there's no reason why it couldn't have gone their way. They might have even won a few battles before the Empire razed the forest and hunted the little pseudo teddy bears into extinction.

Hate the Ewoks if you must, but don't begrudge them their victory.

Although if Lucas ever comes up with a Jedi Ewok, then I, too, may be on the anti-Ewok bandwagon. Or would that metaphor work better with a Sand Crawler?

Hamlet's Last Words

The podcast that inspired today's post can be found here. (And while you're there, I would recommend perusing their other podcasts. Then supporting your local public radio station.) I listened to it a while back, but it was brought back to mind today by another story on NPR about Jude Law stepping into the role of Hamlet. Not sure how I feel about that, but then every actor approaches the role somewhat differently. It is arguably one of the most famous plays in existence, probably #2 behind Romeo and Juliet I would think - though I much prefer Hamlet, and has been subject to much interpretation.

I would hope I'm not giving anything away by saying Hamlet dies at the end, in, arguably again, one of the most famous death scenes of all time. His last words are "the rest is silence." Which is generally the last thing he says. Only, there's another version, where it isn't the last thing he says. Added after Shakespeare's death, they may or may not represent an editorial decision made first by an actor interpreting the role. Given that Hamlet is a role that is open to much interpretation, this seems a small thing, but I found that the idea of Hamlet having a death rattle not only pretentious and presumptuous on the part of the actor who thought to do it, but also unnecessary.

Before I go too much further, I should say there are times when just because an author chose to end the story arc one place, it doesn't mean that it's forever sacrosanct. That said, you have to pick and choose your moments, and your story before you decide the original ending just wasn't good enough. I've never read "Gone With the Wind," nor seen the movie... and have no desire to. That said, I'm familiar enough with the ending, and think it remains one of the better endings in literature. Ambiguous, sure, but at least with a heroine who stands on her own. Only to end up with a "happy ever after" in the sequel.

Which invalidates the original ending, I think.

Which is my problem with Hamlet's death rattle.

You take what is, essentially, a perfect ending. A poetic ending, especially given Hamlet's penchant for wordiness (exceeded only by Polonious). And then you undo all of that for no good reason other than someone else's hubris. (Which is a major Shakespearean theme, so it kind of fits.)

I'm not saying you can't ever mess with something. The Lego version of the Bible is at once both faithful to the text and somewhat irreverent. There's a couple of riffs off the Lord of the Rings that made me laugh out loud. But those were meant to be what they are. With Hamlet and GWTW the add-ons were serious efforts. Completely extraneous serious efforts.

I'm not even saying you can't continue the story. I'd like to know what happens to Rick after the end of "Casablanca" and think that would make a good story. Might even be tempted to write it someday. But I wouldn't have Ilsa get back off the plane, or come back to Rick. Because that would undo the power of the original ending and, if I may say so, be disrespectful of the text. I won't say that "Scarlett" was disrespectful of GWTW - as I said, I've not read it so I won't presume to comment too extensively. I have read, and watched, Hamlet. And I cannot imagine it with a death rattle.

All I am saying is that if you feel the need to mess with a classic ending, or the story in general, maybe you ought to think twice about it.

Death of a Character 2: He's Dead, Jim

That will likely be the last Star Trek reference I make - in this entry, anyway, and only because I can't think of any other way to tie Star Trek into this particular topic. My geekdom knows few bounds. But the death of the redshirts (okay, so that's another reference) doesn't really apply to the topic today, despite the high turnover rate in their ranks.

While this is about people who die and stay dead, it's also about when significant characters die and stay dead. Not the incidentals or the guest stars. There can be any number of reasons why an important character might die, not all of which are good reasons, if you ask me.

The first reason, and the best, is when it's necessary to further the story. Sometimes it's just necessary for someone to die. If you write horror or mystery, this is probably a given. Most murder mysteries circumvent this some because the character usually starts dead, or is given only a brief introduction before being killed. (Unless you're in one of those Agatha Christie type stories where people are slowly but surely killed off.) They become a central character of sorts because they're dead. In contrast, in a horror story characters tend to die to illustrate the idea that no one is safe. Sometimes, though, someone simply has to die. Would Luke have put his faith in the Force during the Death Star run without the death of Obi-wan? Possibly, but likely not, and it would have carried much less gravitas to have Obi-wan telling Luke to "Use the Force" over the intercom.

Sometimes a character dies simply because the writer has run out of uses for them. They create a character who serves a purpose the plot, but then it becomes murky as to what purpose the character continues to serve once they've fulfilled their function. I happen to think that killing off such a character represents poor planning on the part of the author, and that killing them is the easy way out. Rather than having figured out how to integrate the character into the whole story, they only plotted it out so far, and when things got difficult they pushed the character out of the moving vehicle and into traffic. There are times when this gives the story a bit more of a realistic feel, especially if the death of the character taints the "happy ever after" of the ending, but they can irritate me some when they happen.

What really irritates me, though, is when characters are killed for no good reason other than shock value. An instance that comes to mind is Sirius Black in the Harry Potter series. Dumbledore, too, to a certain extent, although I think that falls more into the second scenario detailed above - the final battle needed to be Dumbledore-free so he couldn't somehow save the day, and killing him off is the surest way to accomplish that. Also set up the whole thing with Snape. However, it was somewhat undermined by Sirius's death in the previous book.

After the fourth installment, it felt to me as if J.K. Rowling felt the need to end the next two books with a death. (The final book was a series of deaths in and of itself, and, honestly, most of those took the easy way out. I didn't feel the loss of any of them, really, except Hedwig.) Sirius was probably the logical choice, by which I mean the biggest shock value. May also have been a case of not knowing what to do with him, though I think that could have been solved. I didn't feel it served any purpose to kill all of Harry's family (except the Dursely's... and really, if there were people who needed killing...) other than just the shock value.

It seemed to me that by killing the character the author in fact marginalized the character. Just watch the movies and this becomes apparent. Other than to die in the fifth installment, what else did Gary Oldman really have to do? And there was a great deal of potential in the character, particularly as a darker foil to Harry, someone he looked up to who wasn't the ideal of the other mentor figures in the book. (Course, maybe that was sort of the moral point. In which case I really dislike his death.)

The Harry Potter series aren't the only case of killing a character for shock value with no other discernible purpose, but it was the one that came to mind. So I guess the moral of the story here is, if your character is going to stay dead, it ought to be for a good reason and not because you wrote yourself into a corner, or wanted to shock the audience.

Death with a purpose, in other words.

There's a third part to this series, and I'll put it up as soon as I remember what it was going to be.