X-Files: Make It Personal

I wrote a story in college (this is college fifteen years ago, not college two months ago) based on Sleeping Beauty, only my "Sleeping Beauty" was a prince and was cursed with unending sleep if he should ever pick up a sword (rather than a spindle). And I put him in a warrior-type culture; basically, here's a guy who can't relate to any of the male figures in his society, not to mention he has nothing to do all day, and he's really brassed off about it all.

And the witch, instead of being some Walt Disney hag-like take-off was young and sophisticated and rather ruthless. She was one of the first female characters I created who wasn't just me dressed up in someone else's clothes (I was about 20). Her motivation for cursing the prince was her hatred of war.

Now, even at the tender age of 20, I wasn't much of an anti-warmonger, but that didn't much matter because the character wasn't me. The problem with giving the witch this abstract reason was that it was abstract, and abstract people--Kierkegaard excepted, I suppose--are rather boring.

So, somewhere along the line, I changed her motivation. She hated war, but she hated war because it kept killing off her lovers. She wants one lover who will stick around for more than a couple of months. So, she curses the prince, and, since witches don't die and don't get old, as soon as he gets old enough, she takes him for her own. A sort of Chia Pet homegrown boyfriend!

The story really wasn't about her manufacturing a lover for herself. The story was about free will--how much the prince had or didn't have, etc. etc. But the story didn't work until the witch's motivation become something close and personal, rather than abstract and faraway. Not that it ever worked completely, since it never got published, but editors have assured me that the problem with the story is that I wrote it in present tense--and there's a whole nother can of worms!

Now . . . as Bill Cosby would say, I told you that story to tell you this one:

I'm not a huge X-Files fan. It isn't like Star Trek which I can watch any time in any weather under any conditions. I have to be in an X-Fily mood. I watch a whole bunch of episodes and that takes care of that for another year or so.

But every time I watch it, I am once again impressed by how good it is in terms of scripting and characterization and concept. I am always impressed by how complete Mulder and Scully are as characters and how truly excellent they are in their roles. David D. is great, of course, a tightly wound oddity with just a tiny bit of ham actor inside. And Gillian Anderson in this particular role is truly classic.

While watching it recently, I decided that another of the things the show got spot on was in making Mulder's quest personal. He has that backup group of conspirary theorists, the Lone Gun Men, and although I believe one of them has a personal story behind his obsession, these guys are more or less obsessed for the sake of being obsessed--the abstract motivation: The Truth is Out There. And they make fine minor characters. But for a major character, abstract motivation isn't enough. (Which may be one reason the spin-off show with the Lone Gun Men didn't fly.)

By making Mulder's obsession personal (his sister) and then giving him Scully as a sounding board, the creators of X-Files gave the show the kind of relationship and existential grit that every show since has tried to copy. In a way, Scully becomes Mulder's safety net. He can allow himself to go crazy because he knows he has this cautious voice-of-reason to hold him down.

In terms of plot, I never did get the whole "Scully was given to Mulder to discredit his work and Mulder is allowed to continue to keep him from becoming a martyr" stuff since, as far as I'm concerned, dead men tell no tales. Mulder dead would be less of a problem to the bad guys than Mulder with Scully. (I agree with Phil Farrand here that, actually, Cigarette Smoking man is Mulder's dad and came up with all that "can't make him a martyr" crap to keep Mulder alive.) But in terms of writing, the Scully-Mulder pairing is pure genius. Scully does legitimatize Mulder, but, more importantly, she makes it possible for him to have faith. Her rationalism gives him ballast. Otherwise, he would just be scary wacko guy. But, with her as his fall-back position, he becomes instead believer guy. This kind of symbiotic relationship between science and religion is, I think, one of the most insightful aspects of the show. At its best, the show explored attitudes and complexities of belief. But it did it through focusing on the personal, not the abstract.

The writerly rule seems to be: You can't sell abstract by getting abstract. You can only sell abstract by getting personal. (Unless you're Kierkegaard and then nobody will read you.)

CATEGORY: FICTION

Am I Getting Old or Is it Just Buffy?

When I was in college, I must have seen the movie Buffy about twenty times. I loved it. So, when our library bought it recently, I checked it out. And I hate to say it, but it was kind of dull.

The screenplay was written by Joss Whedon, but the film wasn't produced or directed by him; I think this makes a difference. Whedon is the American TV version of Kenneth Branagh; both have the ability to draw from actors a kind of transcendence. Unfortunately, in the movie Buffy, only Donald Sutherland (a wonderful pre-Giles) and, oddly enough, Luke Perry, seemed to have a clue how their characters should be played. Everyone else either hammed it up or played teen movie angst (á la Pretty in Pink). The point with Buffy is that it has to be played seriously humorous.

This means that first of all, the world of Buffy has to be accepted as absolutely real with real consequences. When the director said, "The movie isn't about vampires. That's just the milieu," I thought, "Lady, you have so missed the point." It is real. It has to be real. When, in the show, Buffy says to Jonathan, "My life sometimes sucks beyond the telling of it," you have to believe that she isn't just hamming it up. This is a world where teeny-boppy-dom meets eschatological world-dom and works.*

The solution isn't angst or hamminess. The solution is whimsy, the slide-by-and-miss-it humor that Whedon constantly employed. The movie has its moments but in general it feels surprisingly non-Whedon-like.

Second of all, Buffy has to stay Buffy. I gained an immense appreciation for Sarah Michelle Geller while watching the movie. Kristy Swanson starts out as a kind of Cordelia character, but as soon as she becomes a vampire slayer, she turns into tom-boy jock girl. And that isn't Buffy. The point with Buffy is that she never does turn into the proper image of the slayer (only in alternate universes). Not only does Buffy herself preserve her ultra-feminine Buffy-ness, her intrinsic personality is protected by Giles. I'm rewatching Season 2 right now, and I was struck by how, despite his many many complaints, Giles resisted turning Buffy into a friendless, fighting machine. It bothers him when she becomes obsessed. This, I think, is fantastically important. The reason this vampire slayer matters is because this time, the tale went different. (Despite my loathing for the new-age-women-have-power ending to the show, I think there was a kind of a metaphysical pay-off: Buffy got what she wanted--she got to be ordinary, one slayer amongst many.)

So why did I love the movie so much when I was young? Well, it’s a teeny-bopper film, and I was just out of my teens. But I think, too, that I loved it because it was early Whedon. After all, I hadn't been spoiled yet by the show and Angel and Firefly, etc. etc. When you don't have the real thing, you take what you can get.

*One of my favorite episodes with that transcendent, eschatological feel is the one where Cordelia wishes Buffy had never come to Sunnyvale. Her wish is granted by the to-be Anya. When Giles figures out how what has happened, he decides to smash Anya's amulet. She sneers at him: "How do you know that other world will be any better?"

"Because it has to be," Giles says, and I swear, I always tear-up at that point. There's so much pathos in Giles' desperation. And he is serious. Like I wrote, the Buffy universe must be taken seriously but not dead-seriously (ha ha), or rather not earnestly--yuck--which is why the whole new-age thing bugged me. It was so look look we're making a relevant statement about important stuff look! I hate that sort of thing. (And that was even before grad school.)

I think the difference between seriousness and earnestness is that when Giles says, "Because it has to be," he is talking within his world, his perspective. The viewer is satisfied, but it doesn't matter what the viewer thinks. It seemed like the end of the show got way too obsessed with what the viewer might be thinking and therefore became pitiably earnest.

CATEGORY: MOVIES

It's Official!

The Graduate

I received my diploma from the University of Southern Maine. I now have a Master's degree in American & New England Studies. Now that I have finished, I should be able to tell you what one does with a Master's in American & New England Studies. I will use my graduate level training to answer: "One is able to reflect on the interconnectiveneness of the reciprocity of dialectical imperatives enclosed in the ideological codification of perceptional, nay, liminal, social processes in which commodification, marginalization and imperialistic contracts are envisioned."

Oh, and lots, lots more.

Superman, romantic couples, House and more

I'm in the middle of watching the Lois and Clark saga. This is the first time I've seen the whole thing. It's a lot of fun. I still feel pretty much the same way I did when I wrote an earlier post about the show. However, now that Lois and Clark are engaged, some of the grist has gone out of that mill, and I've been wondering why.

I am an incurable romantic. Well, as much an incurable romantic as a reasonable realist can be. Anyway, I like seeing couples in shows get together, and I really, really loathe shows that spend seven seasons keeping the leads apart. And I really, really, really loathe shows that bring them together and then split them up, Buffy and Angel being the notable exception because Whedon did it so darn well.

But, as noted with Lois and Clark, once the leads get together, there's that whole problem of keeping up the tension/interest, and I've decided that it only works if the characters bring the tension/interest with them into the relationship.

What I mean by that is NOT angst caused by external problems. What I mean is foibles. Chandler and Monica worked, in my opinion, because they brought foibles into the relationship. Dharma and Greg worked for the same reason; Dharma and Greg were completely different and imperfect beings before they entered the relationship and one of the intelligent aspects of the show was that marriage didn't change either of them fundamentally (because, news flash, marriage doesn't: this is the reasonable realist part of my personality). They made adjustments, but Greg's uptightness and obsession with details didn't go away. And Dharma's competitiveness and foot-in-mouth tendencies didn't either (one of the smartest aspects of the show was that Dharma was more like Greg's mom than anyone would ever admit). The couple grew without abandoning their individuality--the things that made them sweet or irritating or exasperating. (Time Goes By worked for the same reason.)

For a negative example, although I was a fan of the Buffy-Angel relationship, Angel brought no foibles into the relationship. He had lots of angst, yes, but all his angst was caused by externals. For the purposes of Buffy, Angel had enough angst to keep the relationship tense, but Whedon later gave Angel some foibles ("I'm not cheap, I'm old."). The fact is, no matter how much women say they want it, a guy who spends all his time looking soulful and worrying about the woman is romantic . . . but dull.

On Lois and Clark, Lois (Teri Hatcher) has all kinds of foibles. She is competitive; she is opinionated and outspoken, not always at appropriate moments. She has trust issues. But Superman (Dean Cain) has nothing except angst caused by externals (he is an orphan, he worries about not being able to help people). This makes him a hero, in the traditional sense of the word. But it also makes him a tad uninteresting within the relationship. (Granted Hatcher is a better actor than Cain, but I still think the writing has a lot to do with it.) When he was trying to keep his identity a secret from Lois, that was interesting. When he and Lois were trying to adjust to being engaged despite the whole Superman job-on-the-side thing, that was interesting. But now that they're just in love, it's a tad dull. All the energy has to come from the outside.

It's a pity because, like I said, I prefer the leads to get together. And I hate being manipulated into thinking that it will happen THIS week, no, NEXT week, no, the week AFTER next. Blech. I spit on thee, manipulative shows. But writing that can sustain a romantic couple's togetherness seems to be a tad difficult to come by. Anyway, I do think it comes down to the characters' foibles/imperfections. The tension has to come not just from watching the characters overcome a nefarious plot but from watching HOW they, in their peculiar ways, overcome the nefarious plot.

Having said all this, I still can't think what Superman's foibles would be. And I've gotten the same impression from watching Smallville. Again, the foibles can't just be angst or worry about other people or even weird tics. They have to be fundamental characteristics like Monica's obsessive neatness or Chandler's sarcasm or Lionel's grumpiness or Spike's joie de vivre over potato chips and rock bands. But Clark Kent is noble and kind and generous and patriotic and decent, etc. etc. etc. And he needs to be. If he becomes all angry and dark, he'll turn into Batman, and he can't be Batman because Batman is Batman. For this reason, Batman provides a lot more material than Superman. Which makes Superman actually more of a challenge.

The one thing I did think of was gullibility. Or guilelessness. They've done this with Wilson on House. I've written earlier about how much I've admired their characterization of Chase. I've begun to appreciate their characterization of Wilson. Chase is a pretty boy, but he starts out with strikes against him since he is (at first) a rich pretty boy. But Wilson seems like Mr. Decent right from the get-go. Only this is a guy who has had several affaires (at least two, by my last count) and has, by his own admittance, a difficult time walking away from situations which will lead to affaires. He is TOO nice, for which quality House is always ragging him. This isn't just House being mean; House sees exactly where Wilson is heading when he starts comforting nurses and having late-night conversations with interns. It is Wilson's dishonesty about that path that bugs House. It is very, very smart writing since it makes Wilson incredibly flawed, but you still like him. (I love the line where Foreman gets put in charge and Wilson says, "Oh, I guess I'm his best friend now.") The House writers really do impress me.

Anyway, Superman's gullibility or guilelessness could bring tension into a relationship. But it would still be difficult to write.

CATEGORY: TV

Casting Emma Lathen

Emma Lathen is (or, "are"; "she" is two women collaborators) a mystery writer. Her amateur detective is John Putnam Thatcher, the second or third in command at the second (or third) largest bank in the world: the Sloan Guaranty Trust. He resides on Wall Street where, through luck, curiosity and inside knowledge, he ends up solving murders committed amongst bankers, accountants, business owners, stockholders and so on and so forth.

It is a great mystery series and despite being, now, rather dated, it would make a great television series. In order for it to work, however, it would have to done with at least a vaguely positive attitude towards capitalism. It simply wouldn't work if the whole thing was aimed at showing how corrupt and underhanded and Enron-ish the United States Stock Exchange is. Thatcher himself is a very content banker. He is also conservative, although not rabidly so, and intensely interested in specialized areas of finance. That is, he and his friends don't sit around yammering on about the purpose of life a la Oliver Stone. They talk about stocks and bonds and exchange rates, etc. etc. etc.

In fact, a really good production would include the slight amusement that Thatcher feels towards people who want him to be all soulful and unhappy in his chosen profession. In one book, an earnest non-profit producer wants to film Thatcher holding an artistic vase as the definitive image of callous and unfeeling businessman everywhere. Thatcher is appalled at the idea; do they really think he would manhandled an expensive, and uninsured, vase?

The first step in creating the production is the main cast: a police officer, Miss Corsa and, of course, Thatcher. In many of the books, various police officers interview Thatcher, drawing him into the case or, as the case may be, giving him necessary information to solve the case. The police officers change in every book, but for the series, there would be just one (or one with a partner).

Miss Corsa is Thatcher's secretary: efficient, proper and one of his links to the "ordinary" (that is, non-billionaire) populace. I picture her as being a lot like Miss Lemon on Poirot.

Before I get to Thatcher, I will cover the secondary cast (regularly appearing extras). They would include Everett Gabler (the Spock of the Sloan) who would play straight man to the ebullient Charlie Trinkam (Thatcher's immediate subordinate) who I see as a Wall Street version of Greg from CSI: Vegas. Also amongst the secondary players would be Tom Robichaux, Thatcher's closest associate outside of the Sloan, who is always in the process of getting divorced from the latest Mrs. Robichaux (rather like the dad in You've Got Mail); Laura Carlson, Thatcher's daughter and his source for inside knowledge concerning high society balls and other shindings (which he doesn't like to attend); Brad Withers, the president of the Sloan, a guileless, rich yacht owner who is continually putting his foot in his mouth (and whose associates are always sending him off on trips to keep him from making actual decisions).

Thatcher himself is not the stereotype of the hyperactive Wall Street yuppie. For one thing, in the books, he is about 60 (and, as in so many book series, he stays 60 for about 25 years). For the purposes of the television series, I would take off 15 years or so, making him 45-50. He is a widower, which detail I would keep. He is a hard worker, laid back, a man who likes puzzles and is reasonably extroverted but has a core of reserve that keeps his associates from getting too personal (although they bring personnel problems to him all the time). Approachable but not intimate. He is a confident man, with a degree of charisma, the degree of which he himself doesn't realize. (In the books, he is continually confided in, turned to or put in charge of things without his direct encouragement.) He is always trying to get his associates to stick to the everyday job and always getting sidetrack by murders and such. He is a conservative. I picture him as a cross between Thomas Gibson and Mandy Patinkin (but much less intense than either).

And, naturally, he needs a love interest. There's no love interest in the books, other than Thatcher's interest in and appreciation of female beauty. But a TV series needs a love interest. I would make it the police officer, a woman of about 35-40 who has worked her way up the ranks to detective. She has a blue-collar background and is a little contemptuous of Thatcher's high society background. (There has to be tension!) She is an expert, however, in white collar crime. I see her as being an American version of DS Barbara Havers (Sharon Small) in the Detective Lynley mysteries. I chose Havers because although Lynley is sometimes brought down a peg for his lordly condescension towards Havers, Havers is not the insightful cockney who understands reality so much better than her rich boss. Their relationship is more complicated than that.

That said, I don't see the Emma Lathen series as being terribly complicated psychologically; financially complicated would be okay since the target audience would be people who watch money/business shows on PBS. In other words, the series would be a kind of a Wall Street CSI, the expertise being finance, rather than forensics. It would have to be funny, and it could never get all MAKING STATEMENTS ABOUT GREED IN AMERICA. Unfortunately, I'm not sure that any current producer could keep him/herself from heavy-handed commentary. Maybe in a hundred years, it will be done as a historical series.

CATEGORY: BOOKS