I have the vague feeling I may have blogged about this before.
I'm plowing ahead through Buffy: The Vampire Slayer, getting into the late-series arcs that I expected to have a hard time taking seriously--and not having a hard time taking them seriously. I suppose I don't actually need to get into spoilers to make this point. Suffice it to say that the things that happen in later seasons sound pretty implausible based on what you know about the characters in the early seasons. They make sense because characters change over time.
Characters have to change if you want the story to be taken seriously, not least because people actually do change. (Of course if you want your story not to be taken seriously, characters who never evolve are a good way to do it. Take, for example, the legendary intransigents of Seinfeld.)
What strikes me about Buffy is that in later seasons the writers seem to be aware of the things that keep happening to the characters, and the characters internalize them. (If not all of the character change in Buffy is gradual or realistic, that's a separate issue.) In real life, if a person you knew kept having vampire-related relationship problems, you might realize over time that that person had issues with vampires and/or intimacy. Contrast with George Costanza of Seinfeld, who goes through 43 girlfriends in nine years yet is always understood to be bad at getting--not just keeping, but getting--women.
Of course the change isn't entirely organic, nor should it be. Plot demands that certain things happen, or else there is no plot. I've tried "letting the characters write the story" before, but when I started with realistic characters they did what real people usually do: try to write themselves boring stories. The truth I discovered, and that I'm observing now in a well-written TV show, is that if you want a story you need to make characters who will get into trouble--that is, get into stories. Of course you could take characters who know how to keep out of trouble and contrive to get them into trouble, and that will furnish you with a story. To get a second story out of characters with reasonable self-preservation instincts and life skills, you'll have to contrive to get them into trouble again, which can end up getting... contrived.
So, really, if you want to tell a lot of stories about the same characters getting into different kinds of trouble, you need them to be people who seek out trouble, or draw trouble to them.
Over a long enough timeline, to keep stories going, type A trouble-finders have to evolve into type B trouble-seekers. This would seem to be why long-running dramas seem to be about such severely screwed-up people. The people have to be, or the story runs dry as the sensible cast manages to get itself out of trouble and stays out.
It does make me feel sorry for the characters, though. I guess that's the idea.
I wonder if there is a term for this sort of directed character drift.
Sunday, January 27, 2013
Sunday, January 20, 2013
Doing what I Nietzsche
All at once, late last year, I received a year's worth of back issues of Fantasy & Science Fiction all at once. You might notice that that's the only thing on the list of things I've read so far this year. My habit, when I was receiving them regularly before, became to read them all the way through right away. I'm discovering that I'm going to need to break that habit now if I want to get around to reading anything else in the next few months.
Part of the reason I made those lists of my media consumption to the left is, of course, to stroke my ego with the idea that other people might care. When, one day, more people read what I write, what I read may actually be of interest to someone. But the other reason I make the lists is so that I can keep an eye on my own consumption. I'm not so good at noticing patterns in my daily life unless the data is laid out for me.
I think it's likely that if I let the list of what I consume get boring for too long, I will become boring. Of course, one would think that boredom was its own incentive not to be boring, but history suggests that it's not always effective.
"What an odd way to be writing," I think as I look back over what I just wrote. "Is this what comes of spending a half hour reading Friedrich Nietzsche quotes randomly combined with The Family Circus panels?" This is the sort of thing Facebook contributes to my life.
Now that it's 2013, I've been able to make use of the 2013 weekly planner that I bought for myself back in October or so. By a happy coincidence, I've been filling it up with a sudden influx of freelance work. So that's going well. If not for the surge of work I don't think the planner actually would have taken, since I haven't been that kind of organized since high school. As it happened, though, it's pleasant to discover that I can keep more balls in the air than I had thought.
When nothing big is happening it's hard to know where to begin or end these rambling blog posts.
Part of the reason I made those lists of my media consumption to the left is, of course, to stroke my ego with the idea that other people might care. When, one day, more people read what I write, what I read may actually be of interest to someone. But the other reason I make the lists is so that I can keep an eye on my own consumption. I'm not so good at noticing patterns in my daily life unless the data is laid out for me.
I think it's likely that if I let the list of what I consume get boring for too long, I will become boring. Of course, one would think that boredom was its own incentive not to be boring, but history suggests that it's not always effective.
"What an odd way to be writing," I think as I look back over what I just wrote. "Is this what comes of spending a half hour reading Friedrich Nietzsche quotes randomly combined with The Family Circus panels?" This is the sort of thing Facebook contributes to my life.
Now that it's 2013, I've been able to make use of the 2013 weekly planner that I bought for myself back in October or so. By a happy coincidence, I've been filling it up with a sudden influx of freelance work. So that's going well. If not for the surge of work I don't think the planner actually would have taken, since I haven't been that kind of organized since high school. As it happened, though, it's pleasant to discover that I can keep more balls in the air than I had thought.
When nothing big is happening it's hard to know where to begin or end these rambling blog posts.
Sunday, January 13, 2013
The Miz
I watched the Les Misérables movie on Thursday night, which turned out to be a good use of my time. Girlfriend is taking one of her classes to see it tomorrow, too, which I think might actually be a good use of their time. This surprises me, but it is so.
As another big novel adaptation of the winter movie season (albeit with a major intermediate step), Les Mis bears comparison to The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey. Observation number one: Victor Hugo's approximately-one-million-word novel was reasonably adapted into a reasonably long movie. J.R.R. Tolkien's much shorter novel cannot, apparently, on the other hand, fit in three unreasonably long movies. You would think it had been Tolkien who couldn't shut up about nuns.
A lot of love for the book and the musical evidently went into this movie. It's a useful lesson in how you can lovingly adapt a work without necessarily rubbing every word of your source material into a tremendous lather. The battle between Fred and Satan (which I mentioned regarding TH:UJ) played out quite differently in these two movies. I actually found Satan's influence quite small in Les Miz.
Les puts a lot on the actors' acting ability. Do you remember that scene in Rocky, during the training montage, when Rocky is running past a docked freighter? The camera starts close on Sylvester Stallone and then pans out slowly in a long shot, until it registers with the audience that Stallone must actually be in really good shape. Well, about two hours' worth of Lez consist of that moment, with varying results. The songs are shot in merciless, continuous closeup.
Just how close, and how continuous, seemed to be a function of the character's billing. The bigger the part and the actor, the more the movie relied on their face and voice to tell the story, to the exclusion of all other dramatic expedients. Consequently, I spent a lot of time trying to see around Hugh Jackman's head. Much of Anne Hathaway's torso is allowed to appear in "I Dreamed a Dream." The supporting cast end up in the movie's sweet spot, since it's assumed that they could benefit from some actual mis-en-scene. In almost every case, the relentless camera work reflects well on the actors.
It's been popular among reviewers to find fault with Russell Crowe's performance. He does seem to be the only one who needs to spare concentration from his acting for singing--except when Hugh Jackman falters while running the falsetto gauntlet that is "Bring Him Home." Sweeney Todd did a pretty good job of establishing that it doesn't take a strong singing voice to drive a movie musical. It turns out, though, that while you don't need to be able to project to the cheap seats, you do need to be able to sing and act simultaneously. And Crowe's Javert would have been suitably intense in a Mis cast like Todd; he could have gone rasp for rasp with Johnny Depp. In his present company, though, he comes off as introspective at best, and weak at worst.
Nothing in this movie is totally bad, though. Its flaws are almost entirely the result of too much faith placed in the abilities of extremely talented actors, and that sort of thing can only go so wrong.
As another big novel adaptation of the winter movie season (albeit with a major intermediate step), Les Mis bears comparison to The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey. Observation number one: Victor Hugo's approximately-one-million-word novel was reasonably adapted into a reasonably long movie. J.R.R. Tolkien's much shorter novel cannot, apparently, on the other hand, fit in three unreasonably long movies. You would think it had been Tolkien who couldn't shut up about nuns.
A lot of love for the book and the musical evidently went into this movie. It's a useful lesson in how you can lovingly adapt a work without necessarily rubbing every word of your source material into a tremendous lather. The battle between Fred and Satan (which I mentioned regarding TH:UJ) played out quite differently in these two movies. I actually found Satan's influence quite small in Les Miz.
Les puts a lot on the actors' acting ability. Do you remember that scene in Rocky, during the training montage, when Rocky is running past a docked freighter? The camera starts close on Sylvester Stallone and then pans out slowly in a long shot, until it registers with the audience that Stallone must actually be in really good shape. Well, about two hours' worth of Lez consist of that moment, with varying results. The songs are shot in merciless, continuous closeup.
Just how close, and how continuous, seemed to be a function of the character's billing. The bigger the part and the actor, the more the movie relied on their face and voice to tell the story, to the exclusion of all other dramatic expedients. Consequently, I spent a lot of time trying to see around Hugh Jackman's head. Much of Anne Hathaway's torso is allowed to appear in "I Dreamed a Dream." The supporting cast end up in the movie's sweet spot, since it's assumed that they could benefit from some actual mis-en-scene. In almost every case, the relentless camera work reflects well on the actors.
It's been popular among reviewers to find fault with Russell Crowe's performance. He does seem to be the only one who needs to spare concentration from his acting for singing--except when Hugh Jackman falters while running the falsetto gauntlet that is "Bring Him Home." Sweeney Todd did a pretty good job of establishing that it doesn't take a strong singing voice to drive a movie musical. It turns out, though, that while you don't need to be able to project to the cheap seats, you do need to be able to sing and act simultaneously. And Crowe's Javert would have been suitably intense in a Mis cast like Todd; he could have gone rasp for rasp with Johnny Depp. In his present company, though, he comes off as introspective at best, and weak at worst.
Nothing in this movie is totally bad, though. Its flaws are almost entirely the result of too much faith placed in the abilities of extremely talented actors, and that sort of thing can only go so wrong.
Saturday, January 5, 2013
A look back on reading, 2012
2012 came to an end what feels like more than five days ago, and 2013 is shaping up busily. Freelance work has come in in a rush, to the extent that I begin to suspect what I said last year about building momentum and a client base wasn't just blowing smoke at concerned relatives. Input is coming back from beta readers for the two novellas I wrote last year, and it turns out that getting feedback gives me more of a sense of having written something than looking back at the actual drafts. Now, all of a sudden, it feels like I've actually been doing something for last 12 months.
It's time to retire the lists of media I've consumed in 2012. I thought to include it this past year because I really do believe that your media intake has an effect on your output, and if anyone wants to know what's going on in my head they could do worse than to look at what's going into it. Perhaps there's room for some highlights from my reading.
What I Read in 2012:
The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction
F&SF has provided me a steady, varied, and fairly nutritious diet of literature. Ironically, I spent most of the year without new issues because of some mistake involving my move, which it took me shamefully long to address. As a result I'm working through my 2012 back issues now. But really, F&SF deserves a mention as an influence on this year because of what I read 2011: namely but not exclusively "Rampion" by Alexandra Duncan, which convinced me it might be worthwhile to write stories of the scope and nature of the two novellas I've just started showing to people.
Lost Christianities, Bart D. Ehrman
This book was the chief enemy of my productivity in my first few weeks working from home, before I amended my personal contract to put a limit on how much reading I could do before I had finished my work. The look at the evolution of Christian orthodoxy was illuminating in itself, and also reminded me to leaven my reading with nonfiction now and again.
The Hobbit and The Fellowship of the Ring, J.R.R. Tolkien
With the movie coming, I had to reread The Hobbit. But if I remember correctly, I actually went to these books to remind myself how quest adventures are done.
It, Stephen King
This turned out to be better and richer than I had expected, possibly because some fragments of writer's-workshop condescension still lingered from my college days. I have little in the way of regrets regarding the two months or so it took me to get through this doorstopper. Also, if anything in my 12 Dancing Princesses adaptation ends up disturbing you, it probably had its genesis in me reading It.
Whatever Happened to the Caped Crusader?, Neil Gaiman
I mention this graphic novel primarily because I read it shortly before watching The Dark Knight Rises, and found Neil Gaiman's conception of the Batman character much more satisfying than Christopher Nolan's. C'est l'art.
The Complete Works of H.P. Lovecraft
I didn't actually finish all of the Cthulhu Chick's compilation, but I read a lot and learned a lot. Also, I probably lied earlier when I laid the blame for anything disturbing in my 12 Princesses story at Stephen King's feet. I'm pretty sure Lovecraft gets some credit, too.
It's time to retire the lists of media I've consumed in 2012. I thought to include it this past year because I really do believe that your media intake has an effect on your output, and if anyone wants to know what's going on in my head they could do worse than to look at what's going into it. Perhaps there's room for some highlights from my reading.
What I Read in 2012:
The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction
F&SF has provided me a steady, varied, and fairly nutritious diet of literature. Ironically, I spent most of the year without new issues because of some mistake involving my move, which it took me shamefully long to address. As a result I'm working through my 2012 back issues now. But really, F&SF deserves a mention as an influence on this year because of what I read 2011: namely but not exclusively "Rampion" by Alexandra Duncan, which convinced me it might be worthwhile to write stories of the scope and nature of the two novellas I've just started showing to people.
Lost Christianities, Bart D. Ehrman
This book was the chief enemy of my productivity in my first few weeks working from home, before I amended my personal contract to put a limit on how much reading I could do before I had finished my work. The look at the evolution of Christian orthodoxy was illuminating in itself, and also reminded me to leaven my reading with nonfiction now and again.
The Hobbit and The Fellowship of the Ring, J.R.R. Tolkien
With the movie coming, I had to reread The Hobbit. But if I remember correctly, I actually went to these books to remind myself how quest adventures are done.
It, Stephen King
This turned out to be better and richer than I had expected, possibly because some fragments of writer's-workshop condescension still lingered from my college days. I have little in the way of regrets regarding the two months or so it took me to get through this doorstopper. Also, if anything in my 12 Dancing Princesses adaptation ends up disturbing you, it probably had its genesis in me reading It.
Whatever Happened to the Caped Crusader?, Neil Gaiman
I mention this graphic novel primarily because I read it shortly before watching The Dark Knight Rises, and found Neil Gaiman's conception of the Batman character much more satisfying than Christopher Nolan's. C'est l'art.
The Complete Works of H.P. Lovecraft
I didn't actually finish all of the Cthulhu Chick's compilation, but I read a lot and learned a lot. Also, I probably lied earlier when I laid the blame for anything disturbing in my 12 Princesses story at Stephen King's feet. I'm pretty sure Lovecraft gets some credit, too.
Wednesday, January 2, 2013
In 2012, there was a Christmas
Sorry, everyone. Since the week before Christmas until about now, I've been traveling and vacationing and somewhat oblivious to what day of the week it was. Christmas happened on Long Island (at least, that's where I can confirm it happened; I assume it happened everywhere else, too) and New Year's Eve happened with many friends back here in Maryland, which was cool.
I think I've mentioned before that the Christmas season is my favorite time of year. It is significant to me in ways that make me suspect a connection between spirituality and aesthetics.
I caught a thought-provoking sermon at my home church the Sunday before Christmas. It was on the subject of "thin places," where the walls between the physical world and the spirit world are thin--a concept that the pastor was quick to point out was markedly un-Christian, but which keeps finding resonance. Places like Iona, a green, cold, rainy island in Scotland, where people go to be closer to God. What it sent me thinking was that, even though Christians believe God is omnipresent, we want there to be places where God is closer than normal. Even if we have to move toward God to get any closer, part of us wants permission. And the Christmas season is a "thin" time--when the physical world is almost literally worn thin. Even if it's only a perception--an illusion--that we are any closer to God at a time like this, it's something some of us need to imagine that there's even a chance of contact.
Not that I'm qualified to go too deep into it. But I did spend some time thinking about that as I walked around in a cold, dark, and peculiarly beautiful season.
I think I've mentioned before that the Christmas season is my favorite time of year. It is significant to me in ways that make me suspect a connection between spirituality and aesthetics.
I caught a thought-provoking sermon at my home church the Sunday before Christmas. It was on the subject of "thin places," where the walls between the physical world and the spirit world are thin--a concept that the pastor was quick to point out was markedly un-Christian, but which keeps finding resonance. Places like Iona, a green, cold, rainy island in Scotland, where people go to be closer to God. What it sent me thinking was that, even though Christians believe God is omnipresent, we want there to be places where God is closer than normal. Even if we have to move toward God to get any closer, part of us wants permission. And the Christmas season is a "thin" time--when the physical world is almost literally worn thin. Even if it's only a perception--an illusion--that we are any closer to God at a time like this, it's something some of us need to imagine that there's even a chance of contact.
Not that I'm qualified to go too deep into it. But I did spend some time thinking about that as I walked around in a cold, dark, and peculiarly beautiful season.
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