Showing posts with label character. Show all posts
Showing posts with label character. Show all posts

Tuesday, 21 January 2014

Chaucer and language

I never did any Chaucer in school but read the General Prologue to the Canterbury Tales while hiking through Cornwell a few years ago. I had a Middle English version that I'd borrowed from my husband with helpful notes scribbled in the sideline to translate it, and I got through it in about three afternoons, it's not very long.

The General Prologue isn't much more than a collection of character descriptions but they are incredibly skilful and, beautifully presented. They have levels - the realistic, the satirical and the allegorical and they challege what you think about them. The writing is gorgeous. It doesn't try to make you think, it doesn't force you with an opinion, in fact it provides basically no opinion at all, and at the same time it's written well enough to get you thinking exactly what Chaucer wants you to think.

The language is old and obscure, but in a way it makes it more exciting to read, as you're having to translate as you go. It's like finding some ancient scroll, or an alien code, and creates an even deeper sense of a little world in a drop of water. I remember reading Shakespeare at school and there was this sort of unspoken assumption that the language would be a barrier, a hurdle to try and get over. I think that particular attitude misses a trick. The language does make it difficult to read like an ordinary book, but it makes it more exciting to explore.

In Chaucer particularly the fact it's written in Middle English makes it all the more exciting when you find a sentence that you can easily translate. After a while you start reading the words with strange pronunciations and saying 'eek' instead of 'also' in general conversation. It's like a foreign language, but it's your foreign language, and you can see how words and phrases have evolved over time into modern English. In Chaucer's time there are sayings, and memes, and stylistic conventions that you can see reflected over time.

It's history and literature all mixed up together by an incredibly talented writer. A little snapshot of a strange world which is oddly familiar. 

Wednesday, 20 October 2010

Character development on Wall Street

Woah...haven't been in here for a while...

So, the new Wall Street film came out, and before it did I got a chance to watch the old one (made in the 80s). I loved the 80s "Wall Street" film, the filming was good, the acting was great, the characters were interesting and the plot pulled it all together.

I enjoyed the new one as well, but for some reason it wasn't as good. I didn't enjoy it as much. And this morning in the shower I suddenly realised why I didn't enjoy it as much. Nothing to do with the plot, or the filming, or Shea Labeouf (although all of those could have been improved) but to do with character.

Heres the thing I realised: In the new Wall Street no ones character ever changes. No character arc, no character development, no character anything.

Spoilers Ahead

In the first film Charlie Sheen is the young upcoming Wall-Street-er. He gets a job with Gecko (who owns a whole wall-street based empire), goes flying up the social ladder, but realises somewhere near the top that he's about to sell out his dads buisness. He freaks, slams Gecko, then gets arrested for insider traiding. At the end Gecko has been arrested and Charlie Sheen is seen walking up the steps to his trial.

In the second film, Shea Labeouf is a young upcoming Wall-Street-er who wants to invest in alternative energy. He's dating Gecko's daughter, and Gecko comes out of prison. He talks with Gecko, and they hatch a plan to get the money Gecko left his daughter out of a Swiss bank to invest it in alternative energy. At the last stage, Gecko bails on them, runs off with the money and makes a huge pile of cash. At the end, however, he returns the (relatively small) amount he stole from them in order to be with his daughter, who has a child.

By the end of the first film all the characters have grown, changed and learnt something about themselves. By the end of the second film all the characters are exactly the same. Shea is still an enthusiastic alternative-energy nut who thinks he knows what his wife wants better than she does, Gecko's daughter is still a fairly likable young lady whose idea of what kind of future she wants changes depending on what Shea wants and Gecko is ... Gecko. Nobody learns anything, with the exception of Shea's mother, who learns that if you try to do fast housing deals you end up stuck cleaning out peoples bedpans. We never know how she feels about that though.

They try to spin it out like Gecko's redeption story, but it seems to pass over everyones heads that the end of the story isn't the triumph of the happy family, but rather the triumph of Gecko, who must be laughing all the way to the bank. He literally ends up with everything; a family, pots of money, clean energy, and he does this by simply giving a tiny amount back from his huge fortune. The moral of the first film was that climbing high on dodgy morals sends you falling hard. The moral of the second film is that it's OK to be greedy, as long as you do a few token good deeds somewhere near the end. Forget sacrifice, or self knowledge, the only thing required for this redeption is to give your daughter a couple a hundred and stare whistfully at a scan of your grandchild.

Greed is good and Gecko has won.

Sunday, 11 July 2010

The greatest detective...

Recently I've been watching a lot of episodes of 'Lewis', a new-ish detective show based off the Inspector Morse series. Inspector Morse was about an old police inspector in Oxford and his Sargent, Lewis, who went around solving various crimes. Morse was highly intelligent; liked crosswords, puzzles, and classical music and had a couple of mild vices like drinking and not being particularly impressed with forensics.

Morse is the one in front, Lewis is the one behind.

They did a good few series of Morse and then killed him off in the last one. It was fairly standard crime writing, well portayed and acted and with some wonderful filming moments. But then as a spinoff they decided to make Lewis into an Inspector and give him his own show, producing something fairly visionary in the process.

In 'Morse' Lewis is a "steady copper". He's from oop north (not sure it's ever said where but I'm guessing Newcastle). He plays the part of the sidekick that you can relate too, in the same club as Watson and Hastings, while Morse does the brilliant stuff. In 'Lewis' however, Lewis is still a steady copper sidekick, except now he's in charge of the cases. In order to retain the northerner/posh-uni dynamic they give him a Sargent from Cambridge, who does the buisness of knowing odd facts and strange details. Lewis still works out the cases, but unlike Morse (and indeed Sherlock Holmes and even Poirot) he doesn't pull random bits of polished knowledge out of nowhere. He just puts everything together, still in a fairly slow sidekicky manner.

Lewis is on the right and his Sargent sidekick Hathaway on the left.

The most amazing thing about this is that it works. Rather than being a distant insanely-intelligent detective Lewis is someone you can actually relate too. Sherlock Holmes is a force unto himself, Poirot uses deductive reasoning par excellent, but Lewis uses non of those tricks, just his knowledge, experience, and a normally intelligent mind.

That's not to say you can guess the end. You rarely can. But you can clearly see how Lewis gets there, and his experience plays a large part. Hathaway is the Morse-like figure here, intellectually brilliant, fold of crosswords, puzzles, full of random bits of knowledge whenever Lewis needs it, but he lacks the experience and the knowledge of human nature that Lewis has acquired. It makes the balance between them more even as well. With Morse and Lewis (as with Holmes and Watson) the poor sidekick has no chance to be better than the detective at anything. The message of the sidekick is "here is someone for you ordinary mortals to relate too, except obviously it's someone slow and a little dense because you will never be as amazing as the main character".

Lewis has faults as well, and not just the on-screen-harmless 'likes drinking' ones. He has prejudices and dislikes that affect his work (his wife died in a carcrash leading him to be prejudiced against suspects previously guilty of drink or drug driving) and Hathaway gently calls him up on these. Hathaway himself is a marvellous character, funny with dry wit, and amazingly acted. I like watching his face while other characters are talking, little smiles, or sudden small frowns (all very subtle) help to shape the character and the way he sees the world. Conventially, the Cambridge educated, smart sophisticated and intellectually brilliant Hathaway would be the main character, with his occasionally slow and awkward northern superior as the sidekick. But he isn't. Lewis is clearly and obviously the star.

The pacing is gorgeous as well. Once it starts each episode ramps up the pressure, slowly, then warms up slightly quicker and finally hits the last ~15 minutes with sheer fast-paced intensity. The cameras are used really wonderfully as well, with some filming moments which just make me squee at the screen (much to the confusion and amusement of my fiancé). Camera angles and shots are actually used for effect, rather than just to change the view.

But I think it really is the characters that get to me most. In the Holmes/Morse/Poirot school of detective writing the sidekick is just a prop, to hold up the brilliance of the detective. Lewis and Hathaway on the other hand, are truly a team; their faults and strengths compliment each other, and they get along well enough to gently tease about it. Lewis calls the shots, but it is more a partnership of equals than the brilliant detective with his sidekick running to keep up.

(And while I'm on the subject of detectives I must say I loved the recent Sherlock Holmes. It was let down badly by the villains, who were stereotyped-evil and far too unbelievable. Sherlock Holmes and Watson however went straight to my heart and I really hope they make better villains if they make another film).

Saturday, 19 June 2010

Robin Hood and the importance of Genre

The new Robin Hood film is out by now, and I don't know why but I really don't want to see it. On the face of it, it looks like the kind of film I like; Big epic scenery, questy things, gigantic battles etc. The Prince of Persia film (which seems similar) I really do want to see, but somehow the very idea of going to Robin Hood makes me cringe a little.

Probably because every time someone says "Robin Hood" this is what I see in my head:

We're men, menly men, men in tights, tight tights!

Robin Hood has had the piss taken out of him so many times that you simply can't do a serious version any more. Not unless it's really, really good. To get Robin Hood taken seriously you need amazing action, Godfather-style drama, and a quick gripping pace. Which I'm not convinced Russel Crowe's version has. If it's not careful it'll just be a montage of scenes which have already been parodied interspersed with Monty Python Moments and the occasional Blackadder joke.

I think half way through watching the trailer for the third time I finally twigged why it wasn't grabbing me. It's not a fantasy epic. It's trying to be a fantasy epic, it's trying so hard it hurts but it isn't, it just isn't. It's historical fiction.

I'm all for breaking down previously defined boundries, but when it comes to genre some of those boundries are there for a reason. You can have thousands of evil foe being slaughtered to the accompaniment of a cackling evil overlord in fantasy because none if it is real. It's escapism. But you can't get away with that in historical fiction because everyone actually exists (or existed). There are no minions in Historical fiction (although you can get pretty close with Nazis) each dead enemy is a person with hopes, dreams, families and ideologies of their own.

The other problem that comes across is with the way of thinking. In fantasy your heros can have whichever moral leanings they want (such as in the rather hilarious case of Mal in Firefly, who happily kills people but is so utterly anti-slavery). In Historical fiction they are bound by the thoughts of the time, which means when you get Robin Hood standing up and vowing to fight for freedom, truth, justice, womens rights, anti-communism, and the American Way it all looks a tad contrived.

Historical films do not stand and fall on their battle and action sequences, they succeed on strength of character, plot and drama. Gladiator was a political intrigue with awesome acting, very memorable character scenes and Joaquin Phoenix. It was not 'epic' in the sense that it didn't rely on sweeping panoramas or battle scenes to exist. It had sweeping panoramas, of the awesome kind, but it didn't use them as a prop, just to help you sink into the atmosphere created by the narrative. The battles were close and personal and not gratuitous. The action was tight and slick and there was the occasional speech but none of the speeches sounded contrived. It was Historical Drama with a touch of the epic thrown in and it worked.

Robin Hood is a fantasy epic set in Medieval England. I'm not convinced it will work.

Also people are getting more cynical about heros nowadays; random strong-men just turning up, killing people and then talking about justice don't hack it the way it used to. People point out the families of the henchmen, the dubious moral double-standards (Stargate is the best for those). The more recent Star Wars episodes were laced with politics and moral messages, because young lads from the desert flying planes into large state-owned structures based on their own hokey religions just doesn't make such a good story as it used too. Robin Hood is hard enough as a hero anyway, given that he's no more than a glorified thug in a green hoody, and King Richard is hardly the epitome of goodness given that his illegal war in the middle east is the reason his brother keeps hiking the taxes up.

Robin Hood is the guy in the background. And King Richard is the guy in the front. And Nick Clegg is the Sheriff of Nottingham :p

It's very hard, while watching the trailer, to convince yourself that you're not watching Lord of the Rings. There are mistreated peasants being chased by human-looking Uruk Hai, and that obligatory bit where lots of people get mercilessly killed for no particular reason other than to show that the bad guy really is bad. There's a Woman In Armour (TM), Nazgul-type-things in cloaks, very atmospheric woods, the only difference is that the sweeping panoramas are several times more boring because it's England rather than New Zealand.

I can't help thinking though, that if they'd set it in Generic-Fantasy-Olde-England and made it about some guy called Jack Cloak fighting evil King Mark whilst secretly supporting Mark's older brother who was fighting the Romulans or whatever I might be able to enjoy it. That would be pure fantasy escapism, with very little associated moral worries (like - if King Richard is all that good why is he taxing people dry to invade a country that isn't his and try to get all the inhabitants to convert to his religion?) You also wouldn't be worried about all the historical inaccuracies, or be sniggering every time someone inadvertently invokes a Holy Grail joke ("help, help I'm bein' repressed!") because the whole setting is made up and rather ridiculous. You can just enjoy.

I'd appreciate the thoughts of anyone whose actually seen it though. Was it that bad? Or did it manage a passably good story?

Monday, 17 May 2010

Why I like Sci-Fi/Fantasy

Quick post to relax a bit during revision...

One of the things I've been asked a couple of times, by my English teacher, fiancé, etc, is why I enjoy the Sci-Fi/Fantasy genre so much. While I am very much aware that Sci Fi and Fantasy are two different things, I'm lumping them both together here as a very specific type of the genre: anything involving big epic-y quests, silly costumes, names containing punctuation marks, made up words for everyday objects, etc. I'll just generally call it Fantasy, to save on typing.

So why do I enjoy Fantasy so much. In the spirit of keeping my brain in the mindset of revision, I'll make a list:

1) No Relationships.

For those who don't know me, one thing that I can possibly give away without revealing my secret identity is that I can't stand RomComs. Or soaps. Or romantic novels. Or anything that involves romantic plots born of misunderstandings and emotional drama. They drive me scatty and I find them intensely irritating to watch. The authors of fantasy epics seem to feel the same way, because the thing that stands out about most of these stories is the surprising lack of romantic emotional subplot. This is usually achieved by having the majority of characters either a) exclusively male b) basically asexual or c) surprisingly related.

Eragon is renowned for managing all three.

Relationships tend to be formed mostly via the process of elimination - once she's ruled out her brother, Chewbacca, two gay robots and the odd miscellaneous Ewok there's not many people Princess Leia really can decide to marry. Eowyn and Faramir probably deserve some kind of award for this, having decided after a few hours quick natter that they're probably the only single people of the same species left and should therefore probably get hitched. No misunderstandings, slammed doors, or tearful protestations of betrayal feature.

2) Predictability

It's not always the best thing in a story, but one reason that I turn to Fantasy like an old well-worn pair of jeans is the wonderful predictability of the plot. Sure it might have a few holes in it, and be fraying a little at the edges, but there's a sort of comfort value about a nice predictable plot line. The ugly people will be evil, and will probably die, while the pretty people will end up fulfilling their destiny, discovering their true selves and coping wonderfully well with events that in the real world would lead to several years trauma-therapy.

No hobbits were traumatised, despite murdering several orcs, being captured and almost eaten, and watching their beloved friend be viciously killed right in front of their eyes.

And this all leads onto the third point which is...

3) It's Endearing

There's a certain level of Bad that some films, and books, achieve which instead of being irritating and distracting comes out as totally and utterly endearing. The fact that the Fantasy authors seem to genuinely see nothing wrong with people walking away from blood-filled carnage feeling nothing but self-righteously victorious, or forming lifelong relationships based on a few minutes carrying out said blood-filled carnage. Its that slight look of 'oh dear this is so stupid' in Alec Guinesses eyes as he plays Obi-Wan Kenobi, the aliens created by people glueing old egg-cartons to their foreheads in old SciFi films, the fact that you can replace the names and skin colours of the characters in Eragon and end up with another, probably published, Fantasy book.
For me, this kind of picture sets off the reaction usually seen in normal people presented with small puppies. Lookattheliddleevilscifiguy! And he's called Ming the Merciless. Seriously :D

Of course all of these work best when the author is aware how godawfully silly the whole concept of their story is, which is why Flash Gordon was one of the best SciFi films ever made (apart from Star Wars, obviously). Or when the author, either on purpose or by fortuitous mistake, actually creates an amazing character in the midst of the Generic-Quest, which gives you something to enjoy focusing on while the rest of the story trundles on happily in it's beautiful cocoon of Generic-Fantasy.

4) Escapism

This is the big one, and probably the main reason I first got into Fantasy in the first place. It allows me to escape from the real world, which is full of problems and unexpected volcanoes and things. In Fantasy that doesn't happen, everything is ordered and organised. Unlike real life there are rules to how the universe works. Mysterious old men will be wizards, young eager farm boys with a tendency to stare into the middle distance will be heros, people who show you a picture of their kids before a battle will end up dead etc. You can run away to a world that is more exciting, more understandable and more fun to be in than this one, which quite appealing when you're twelve, and no less so as you get older.

I know I'm not the only person who sat up waiting for this on their eleventh birthday!

Sunday, 2 May 2010

Victorian Literature

I have a confession to make. It's a hard confession for someone who likes books and reading, and who would very much like to be a literature student in a different life, but the truth is I really am not a fan of Victorian literature. I can appreciate the important role of Vic-Lit in the development of the novel, the exploration of themes, the effect of the sudden influx of female writers and, in later works, the slow movement away from the rigid straightjacket of Victorian Christian morality. The influence Vic-Lit has had on later works is priceless, and the books themselves make for a prime source of information about life and peoples attitudes during the 1800s.

I just really don't like reading the stuff.

I find Dickens one of the hardest authors to read in the world. I can just about stick Bronte, and I've never actually managed a Jane Austin so can't comment (and she's pre-Victorian anyway) but I studied "David Copperfield" for A-level and found it almost impossible. There were several chapters near the end I actually missed out, I was getting that bored of it and just relied on the BBC serial for my knowledge of what I'd missed. I read "Great Expectations" as well, in the hope it might turn out to be better, and almost read "Nicholas Nickleby" before realising that I had better things to do with my life.

I can't stand them. I can't find a single reason to recommend Dickens apart from the fact that some of the jokes (once they finally finish) aren't bad. The writing is stodgy, getting through a paragraph in Dickens is like wading through porridge and to call the characters 2-dimensional is to give them two more dimensions than they actually possess. The storyline relies on a number of massively improbable coincidences (everyone you bump into on the street is likely either to be an old friend or an unknown relative) and entire story arcs are dropped in the middle of the book, or occasionally spring up out of nowhere.

Writing within a straightjacket of the surrounding morals is not something I take issue at. Every writer does it, and it can sometimes produce beautifully complex and thought-provoking characters like Shylock or Heathcliff, that teeter on the bring of acceptability (either by being an 'evil' character saying things that could be good or a 'good' character behaving in ways that are conventionally evil). But Dickens embraces the straightjacket; all his evil characters are called things like "Mr Badde-Personne" and you can tell their evil because they routinely torture small children, and because it usually says so in the text. Inevitably, of course, the evil characters will die, or end up miserable or maimed while the good characters all end up happily married. Apart from characters who are too good of course, and they end up dead, presumably in heaven.

You can see authors like Bronte beginning to break out of this straightjacket (Mr Rochester ends up both married and maimed for example, and Heathcliff is another post altogether). But it never seems to occur to Dickens to make his evil characters anything more than Punch cartoon illustrations.

Redemption is rare. Dickens uses his characters to make social points (like "torturing small children is bad") but he uses them clumsily, like hitting the reader over the head with a brick. At the risk of sounding somewhat heartless and shallow, the effectiveness of this method in causing social change is, in my opinion, another issue entirely. Social change notwithstanding, this is bad writing! It's like Dolorous Umbridge in Harry Potter. Writing a character you call evil and then having them do evil things is just boring. There's no chance of redemption, no character growth, no character arc, no character.

The writing style is probably my biggest boundary, as I said earlier, I just find it so stodgy. Dickens never uses one word where ten will do, never sketches a scene out through the actions and words of the characters but instead sits down at every other vantage point and writes a couple of nice thick paragraphs just so everyone knows exactly what their looking at. One of the reasons that you can fit Dickens books quite nicely into a few BBC series is that several pages of writing can often be replaced by a quick shot of the inside of a room, or a busy street.

The coincidences though, are what finally kill it. While I was studying David Copperfield I decided, in a moment of bored desperation, to try and interpret the story as if Mr Micawber (a random character who is constantly appearing throughout the story and constantly in debt) was actively stalking David, following him through London and Plymouth, tracking him down across the cities and feigning surprise whenever he met him. It actually made for a far more realistic story, if a rather creepy one. I then tried adding Steerforth into the plot (David's old school-friend who he randomly bumps into in London when he's grown up), he too was stalking David, possibly aided by Micawber. There had to be a reason for it though, so I decided (it was a very boring lesson) that Micawber and Steerforth were spies, sent by Her Majesties government to protect David from ... something. That worked surprisingly well, as there's very few places in the plot where he isn't in touch with one or both of them. I was just trying to work Mr Dick into the plot, and Uriah Heep into the 'something' when the bell rang and I had to go to Chemistry.

Anyway. While I can certainly understand the importance of Dickens, and I can even sort of see why some people might like reading it, I find that most of my time reading Dickens is spent daydreaming about other stories I'd rather read. And although Dickens is the worst offender, I find most Vic-Lit, for some of the same reasons, hard to get through. I waded through Jane Eyre more than I read it and although it raises a lot of interesting points, I'm quite glad I know enough to discuss them without having to read the book again.

That post was a therapeutic rant as a break after finishing my thesis. I know other people hold different views, and would be very pleased to hear about them :)