Have We Learned Nothing From Indiana Jones?

I saw the Jack Reacher movie the other day. Now, before anyone harps all over the diminutive casting choice, I have not read the books. After the movie initially came out, and seeing the furor and the obvious popularity, I did pull one off the library shelf. After reading the dust jacket, I promptly put it back. All of the blurbs read like too much Marty Stu guy fantasy fulfillment, and the movie, while for the most part entertaining, did nothing to disabuse that notion. While I will spend two hours on a movie that does that, the time invested in a book is another matter.

(I used to read things like that back when I was younger; I just grew out of them after a while. Which is not to imply I "grew up" or anything else, just that tastes change as we get older. A trip through the cd's that have been sitting in a box in my closet for years will demonstrate that.)

But I did have one major problem with the film, and something I hope was Hollywood insertion. At the climax of the film, in the midst of the big action scene, Reacher has just gone several rounds of both gunplay and hand to hand with the big bad's burly henchman, and has finally managed to mostly overcome him. A henchman who has spent a good deal of the film attempting to kill - often successfully - numerous people, including the hero and the leading lady. A henchman whom, there is no doubt, our hero will have to shoot.

Now, just to further the Raiders of the Lost Ark comparison here, the leading lady is, at that very moment, in danger. It would behoove our hero to be done with the henchman as absolutely quickly as possible, as decisively as possible, before the bad guy kills the leading lady.

Fortunately, in the ensuing struggle, Reacher has wound up with the gun, whereas the henchman has not. Reacher has him point blank, and all he has to do is shoot.

Which is when he throws the gun away in order to go mano a mano in fisticuffs with the guy.

I'm pretty sure that's the moment I yelled at my tv.

Now, I know there are certain conventions in the movies. Cars blow up, even when someone just bumps the fender. Heroes shake off concussions like they've been okayed to play by the team doctor. Every explosion is a gas explosion with a giant fireball (see the aforementioned car). I accept this, even though I know it's wrong, and it's okay. It's called suspension of disbelief. (Also a Michael Bay film.) Even so, I would think we had put to rest this dumb as a post macho need to go fist to fist with the bad guy when we can just *shoot* the guy and it's expedient to do so.

Even Andrew Dice Clay knew better than this in The Adventures of Ford Fairlane. Yes, I am citing the Dice Man as a supporting reference here. That's how put to bed this trope should be. It does not prove the hero is a manly man. It does not demonstrate a sense of honor (which, it should be said, Indy has, to a certain extent, as did film Reacher, but they both demonstrated a great deal of flexibility with that, too). All it demonstrates is that they put testosterone (because this is by and large a failing of male heroes. Female heroes seem much more willing to just shoot the bastards, and rightly so) over the need to do what they should be doing in the first place.

Which, I will remind you, was saving the person Reacher had deliberately gone there to rescue in the first place.

So please, Hollywood and writers everywhere, learn from Indiana Jones: just shoot them.

Starting from Scratch

I had the chance to go see The Avengers this weekend as it came back into theaters. I haven't, yet, for no real reason other than my annual quota of one summer movie was taken up with Pixar's Brave. I ended up not going to see The Avengers, still, in part because of where it was showing in my home town, and in part because today was really the only convenient day I had to go see it.

And instead I went to the library. Which is not quite as geeky as it sounds, given that I had books that were due, and where the library is versus where the theater is in relation to where I work. Also, the books were the ones I read to my eight-year-old, so this was much less of a contest than it may sound at first.

All of the superhero films coming out this summer got me thinking: is it really necessary to revisit the origin story of a superhero every time the franchise gets rebooted? I realize it's not a novel idea, yet as I am a bit of a comics geek I figure I ought to be able to throw my two cents in.

For starters, I can think of at least two .... okay, one and a half superhero movies that did not feel the need to spend the bulk of two hours telling the story of how the hero came to be. One of those was a decidedly non-superhero film that only tangentially could be put into that genre, so it's probably out. The other featured a brief backstory flashback that lasted about fifteen minutes. And having typed this, I thought of one more that fits that description. So two and a half. Out of a lot over the past few years.

For the most part, these origin stories seem completely unnecessary. Batman Begins is perhaps the exception because it trod over mostly newish ground, in a way that hadn't been done before on film. but Spider-Man? I question not only the more recent version, but the former version from several years ago. Is there anyone out there, anyone at all, who would see this movie and not know Spider-man's basic backstory?

Or Superman's? Or, yes, Batman's? Does anyone out there at all not know the basic origin story?

Let's face it, these origin films are mainly about establishing character for "new" fans. But if you aren't into comics, what's the draw then? Star power? Possibly. But if that's the case, do you still need to retread familiar ground? Women are often cited as the demographic that is brought in by focusing on "character aspects" - i.e. the hero's tortured beginning and what not. I'm not a woman, but I have to say, if I wasn't a Green Lantern fan, then I'm probably going for Ryan Reynolds, and anything beyond that is just extra padding.

Green Lantern was an especially egregious example of an unnecessary origin story. It wasn't all that important, and slowed the film down. That is a cardinal sin, because amid all the tights and capes and powers, superheroes are supposed to be escapist fantasy and above all fun. Fail in that, and no one wants to read/watch them. (Look at all the failed titles from the "Dark Age" of comics in the 1990's.)

There is a long literary tradition of starting things in media res. (That's your Latin for the day.) Superhero movies could learn from this. Just jump in, in the middle of the car chase or some other action bit. Hook the audience, and then how he got the powers or what deep dark angst he's harboring inside won't really matter.

These are already established characters anyway, for the most part, so there really isn't a need to build the backstory. Look at James Bond. James Bond does not get an origin story; James Bond does not need an origin story. (Casino Royale does not count, and if you think it does, answer me this: what do we know about his personal life? Yeah, that's right: zilch. He just is Bond. After shooting that guy behind the desk, of course.)

Neither do established superheroes.

Wilder Writing

This is another entry inspired by someone else's entry. They didn't do much with it, though, so I feel a little more justified in stealing it.* I promise original thoughts, soon.

 Billy Wilder, and if you don't know who he is, look him up, and then if you've never seen one of his films, go rent one (I would recommend Sunset Boulevard, but I have a fondness for noir), once put together a list of tips for screenwriting. Given the number of awards he was nominated for, and won, I suspect he's a valid authority on the subject.

I, however, do not write screenplays. Yet I couldn't help noticing that more than a few items on the list applied to writing, in general, and genre writing in particular. For example, the first two items:

1. The audience is fickle.
2. Grab ‘em by the throat and never let ‘em go. 

Now, rule #1 might simply be an admonition that, just because vampires and werewolves are in at the moment, they may not be tomorrow (and I doubt that particular iteration ever crossed Wilder's mind), but I think when read with rule #2 it can also be read as saying you've got to put your best writing forward, every time. The only way to overcome fickle is by being good.

Likewise, I think #4 and #6 go together:

4. Know where you’re going.
6. If you have a problem with the third act, the real problem is in the first act.

I don't outline, but I don't ever sit down to write without knowing what story I want to tell. I may not know all the details, or how precisely I'm going to get there, but I do know where I am going, story-wise. Most of the time. And because the end story has to all fit together, if by the time I get to the end it's not working, it's usually because something has to be fixed earlier on. Not always, as like with most set of rules, I think Wilder's are the kind that usually hold true but still have exceptions. Sometimes a bad ending is just a bad ending.

Which leads to #9:

9. The event that occurs at the second act curtain triggers the end of the movie.

You know what else makes a bad ending? When it comes out of left field. When it feels tacked on, unconvincing, there for shock value and nothing more. An ending to a story should be organic to the story. It needs to belong, and not just belong but tie together as best as possible the threads that led there. More than that, a really good ending should build, so that by the time that final act is reached, the reader is on the edge of their seat. It should roll forward with a momentum of its own, creating that "can't put it down" need to finish.

There are 10 rules in all on Wilder's list, and to some degree I think they can all be applied to writing of all kinds. Even number eight, which is about voice-overs, but could just as easily apply to the first person narration of any good hard-boiled fiction detective or urban fantasy. (As a movie buff, I could probably speak directly on voice-overs, too. Specifically with an eye on my favorite science fiction film of all time and why I think cutting all the narration from Bladerunner in favor of that stupid unicorn dream lessens the film. But that's another entry.)

And then, of course, there is #10, which is about knowing when to leave:

10. The third act must build, build, build in tempo and action until the last event, and then -- that’s it. Don’t hang around.


* Someone else happens to be a famous someone else this time. So I'm providing full documentation and disclosure. The list came to my attention from: http://www.theuncool.com/2012/03/28/billy-wilders-tips-for-writers/ and the list is taken from Cameron Crowe's book on Billy Wilder, Conversations With Wilder. Which I have not yet read, though it sounds like something that I would enjoy reading. The cynic in me suspects that the "didn't do much with it" part may have been an incentive to get people to buy the book, but it is just as likely an acknowledgement that there isn't much to improve on with the list itself. It is Billy Wilder, after all. Regardless, I happen to be a fan of Mr Crowe and his movies,** so if by some miracle you, Mr Crowe, happen to read this, please don't sue me.


** Yes, all of them. Even the one with Bloom and Dunst. May have helped that I watched it on an international flight, but even so.

Watered Down and Twice as Marketable

When did Tinkerbell stop being a bitch? I remember watching Peter Pan, the Disney version of course, and noting even as a kid that Tink was a nasty piece of work. As an adult watching the movie again, I could take it further and realize she was a vain, self-centered, conniving, and mean-spirited fairy. This was not the happy go-lucky make a wish kind of fairy. This was the bite you on the finger kind from Labyrinth.

However, in this day and age of the Disney Princess Marketing Machine, that personality type probably doesn't sell so well. So instead, Tink's been repackaged and redesigned into some plucky little heroine. There are still aspects of the old Tink, and as a writer I'm curious to know how this new Tinkerbell becomes the version we see with Peter Pan... but I have my doubts that Disney will ever tell that story.

Not when they have the Disney Fairy Marketing Machine to consider.

This isn't the first time a character's been rehabilitated to make a buck or appeal to a wider audience. Vampires have been getting this treatment for years, long before they started to sparkle. The George Clooney Batman movie was made primarily to sell toys. Or at least it looked that way, so I hope that was the intent. And there are any number of other examples I could probably think of if I was inclined to do so at the moment.

Which I'm not.

Now I can't really fault the House of Mouse, because they've been doing this for years. They built an empire on it, and really, if you watch Steamboat Willie the Mickey Mouse you see there is a far different character from the Mouse my little one watches on Playhouse Disney. Same for Bugs Bunny and the rest of the Looney Tunes. I could probably blame the societal impulse to make everything "wholesome" but the cynic in me says it's probably more just marketing than anything else.

I don't think you could turn the original Tinkerbell into a very marketable franchise. She doesn't exactly espouse the values we want our little girls to emulate, after all. While this requires me to admit I've seen the first Tinkerbell movie - her origin story, naturally - the bad fairy in the film reminded me far more of the original Tink from Peter Pan than the titular character did. In other words, she was vain, self-centered, and self-serving. Naturally she got her comeuppance, because we can't have the villain get away with it in a kid's movie.

In a way I'm disappointed. While the new Tink has been repackaged to teach a couple of different important "moral" points, I think they could have used the old Tink to teach how not to behave. They would have stayed true to the original character - at least in her original Disney manifestation - and I wouldn't have been scratching my head wondering what happened to her.

Plus they could have done tie-ins with that old Elton John song. ... Though on second thought, that probably wouldn't go over very well with the parents.

Real Life... Only Better

The movies never get it right. History, that is. Now, as a historian (technically, anyway) I could turn this into a rant about that, and I have a book on my shelf that is, essentially, just that: a collection of articles that examine what movies get wrong when they turn to history. As interesting as the book is, though, I think it misses the point. The movies aren't about teaching, they're about storytelling. And while a good history film - or book - has a strong narrative, there's a difference between those and what a movie - or a novel - is trying to do.

In fact, one of the best historical novels I ever read was "The Killer Angels" which was pretty accurate, and made into a pretty accurate movie. But I wouldn't recommend using either to study for a test on the Battle of Gettysburg. By the same token, I love the movie "Glory," which the book on my shelf ripped to shreds. Admittedly, it is inaccurate. Highly so. (Watermelons, in Massachusetts? At that time of year?)

On the other hand, citing it's inaccuracies misses the point. It's not like Hollywood was going to green light multiple movies about African-American Civil War regiments. So while, yes, it's true the 54th was educated Blacks and not slaves, by making the movie 54th a more diverse mix I think it conveyed a broader message. And anyone who missed the symbolism of the watermelons wasn't paying attention.

Hollywood gets a lot of things wrong. Ask any cop, forensic scientist, or plain old physicist. There comes a certain point where certain sacrifices get made for the purpose of a good narrative. There's a line there, mind you, as do too much and you venture over into the realm of the truly silly. Also, sometimes, as a historian I do think that Hollywood could have and should have gone with the truth, and it would have made for just as good cinema. (It's Stirling Bridge, Mr Gibson, Stirling Bridge. Which brings me to...)

With a few examples, Hollywood gets most of it wrong. Braveheart is a great film. One of my favorites and I've watched it many times. As history... it's hysterical.

Apparently though, Hollywood isn't the only one that does this. Shakespeare, it turns out, may have over-stated the odds in Henry V. To that end, some NY Times op-ed person thought to rewrite the famous speech. You know, the "hold their manhoods cheap" speech. Which, in turn, is the real reason for this post. I'm reasonably certain Shakespeare new his facts. I'm also reasonably certain he knew a better story when he thought of one. As fiction, mind you. I don't think Shakespeare ever made any claims to be a faithful chronicler of history, which I kind of thought the NY Times piece overlooked in it's mock-up of the speech.

If you're going to write history, actual factual history, then yes, you need to be accurate as much as possible. But if you're sticking that "Based On" label, or better yet the "Inspired By" in front of your work, I think you ought to be granted some leeway with the actual events.

So long as you're telling a good story.

This is Supposed to Scare the @#$% Out of You, Right?

During a recent trip to the library, my little one decided to rent Disney's "The Hunchback of Notre Dame." I presume this decision was based on the picture of Esmerelda on the cover, and my daughter's fondness for Disney Princess movies. Now, I should have known better, because I am familiar with the story, but in my defense it is a Disney film and it did carry a G rating. Pixar's "The Incredibles" has a PG rating, and my daughter has seen and enjoyed that film. (So have I, for that matter, but that's another story entirely.)

All I have to say is, the MPAA dropped the ball on Hunchback. Or else Disney bribed them. Something. Because about half an hour into the film, around about the time of the carnival when things go from good to bad, I turned it off. With my daughter's approval. She's only 5 1/2, and the film was scaring her. Badly. And this is a girl who doesn't flinch at the dragon in "Sleeping Beauty" which let me tell you made an indeliable impression on my young self. (I saw that one again recently, and am pretty sure I've already commented here on some of the hidden meanings I saw in it.)

It was dark, it was scary, and we hadn't even gotten to the bit where the Judge lusts after Esmerelda yet. (Though Tony Jay is an excellent villain, had they stuck to the story and kept the archdeacon the villain, I think listening to David Ogden Stiers would have been far creepier.) This was not a film meant as a horror outing, unless the executives at Disney wanted to see how far they could push the envelope with the ratings board. And it masquerades as a typical Disney flick, right down to the talking gargoyles. Yet, as dark as it was, I know adults who would have a hard time with it.

Which got me to thinking that it's often these kind of horror outings that are most effective, even when they aren't intended as such. I freely confess that the majority of the slasher films out there bore me to tears. Or worse, amuse the heck out of me. Saw was so preposterous, so ridiculous, that I fast-forwarded through the better part of it just out of morbid curiosity to see how they were going to end the train wreck. Give me a subtle, creeping horror any day over some whack-job with a sharp blade and too much free time on their hands.

Some stories just seem to have an inherent creepiness, again even if they weren't originally designed to scare. Sometimes it's not even the story itself, but one of the characters in it that sends chills down your spine. The kind of character that you just wouldn't want to meet in a lit hallway, never mind a dark alley. Aside from the Judge in Hunchback, I can't think of any off the top of my head - but I know they're out there. I've seen them. And they can turn anything they're in into a "don't watch this in the dark" experience.