Today marks the 90th anniversary of the premier of “Steamboat Willie”, which Disney marks as the birthday of one Mickey Mouse. Mickey is a bit hard to write about, because what do you say? Walt was very good at writing a story, and his story about Mickey is more or less the story of the company itself. With Mickey as the company mascot, the two are so entwined that to tell the history of one precludes the other. Mickey is such an iconic symbol he is recognized across the world, as recognizable as the Buddha, Jesus, and the Coca-Cola logo.
But he’s also a character.
He’s been in shorts, in films, on TV, on radio, in comics– if Disney could make it, Mickey was on it. Lunch boxes. Toothbrushes. Gas masks. There is a definitive character to him, a distinctive “Mickeyness” that he has no matter where he is.
From character archetypes last week to character analysis this week. One of the favorite pastimes of Harry Potter fans (other than complaining about Harry Potter stuff) is sorting characters who are not in Harry Potter into the four Hogwarts houses: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. There are a few schools of thought as to how to go about this. The simplest is the way that it appears to happen in the books — heroes in Gryffindor, villains in Slytherin, smart people in Ravenclaw, everyone else in Hufflepuff. This, to many, is quite reductive and does not fully encapsulate the complexities of what the houses have come to represent. However, this is also how the houses are seen within the general public due to the nature of how the books were written. Sorting characters is as much literary analysis and, specifically, character analysis, as much as it is kinda fun.
“Superman is dead. Superman remains dead.
And we have killed him.” —Kyle Kallgren
There’s a reason that Wonder Woman is the best film out of the whole of the DCEU. Wonder Woman wasn’t afraid to admit that their main character was a god.
The heroes of the DC Comics company have always been more god-like than their Marvel counterparts. From the Teen Titans, to the New Gods, to the Amazons, gods and god-like imagery have permeated the universe. Even Batman, the lone Übermensch of DC’s trinity, is still a keystone to the entire DC universe, which is pretty god-like, in my opinion.
But we’re not here to talk about the princess or the bat. We’re here to talk about him.
Character motivation is possibly the most important aspect of narrative writing. Without character motivation, there’s no plot. And while narrative art without plot does exist (just ask Dziga Vertov or Godfrey Reggio) most books, films, tv shows, stage productions, and other things that we tend to associate with the art of language (as opposed to visual or musical art) has some kind of plot. And the most basic of these plots? Character wants something, has to overcome obstacles to get it, and either succeeds or fails. Luke Skywalker wants an adventure, he leaves the planet, blows up a Death Star, and becomes a hero. Indiana Jones wants to find the Ark of the Covenant, he contacts an old girlfriend, flies to Egypt, and the Nazi’s faces melt. Prince Hamlet wants to avenge his father’s murder, he grapples with his mental illness, distances himself from his social circle, and then kills King Claudius, but dies in the process.
Character motivations can change over the course of a story, usually as a “be careful what you wish for” kind of thing. You also can have unmotivated characters that are notable in their lack of motivation. But most plot consists of the motivation of the protagonist coming directly into conflict with the motivation of the antagonist, or the motivation of society, or the motivation of the universe itself sometimes. Figuring out your protagonist’s motivation is entangled in the plot and conflict of the story.
I’m going to look at a few different stories with varying complexity in terms of motivations and how they work, because unlike my other writing advice, figuring out your own character’s motivation is individual to your character and story. You can list a million different stories that have a million different characters with a million different motivations. I’m looking at these stories, but there are plenty more examples to look at if you’re having trouble.
So I recently got a Nintendo Switch, and with it the flagship release game The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild. I’ve been playing it a lot lately, but I haven’t really been doing much of the main quest. Or even too many of the side quests, for that matter. Mostly what I’ve been doing is plain exploring– unlocking shrines, activating towers, expanding the map. Breath of the Wild has one of the most free open worlds of the franchise since the original, and one of the largest maps of any game in any franchise. The map doesn’t feel empty, though, which can be a problem with an open world like that. Part of that is due to the sheer amount of stuff in the world, beyond the waypoints and major locations. All of this “extra” stuff that only seems to exist just to exist is a part of a necessary element of fiction and particularly speculative fiction called worldbuilding.
Worldbuilding exists in all kinds of fiction, not just speculative (Sci-Fi and Fantasy) fiction. Because all fiction is made up, the writer has to create a world where this fiction would make sense. Some of the greatest worldbuilders include Jane Austen and Charles Dickens– not because they were creating worlds whole-cloth, but because they captured the worlds that already existed and that they lived in like a time capsule. Some fiction even has that as its goal. Victor Hugo’s Notre-Dame du Paris, better known in the Anglophone world as The Hunchback of Notre Dame, was originally written to advocate for the restoration and preservation of the Notre Dame cathedral after decades of disuse and abuse. But there’s also the classic cases like J.R.R. Tolkien, the master worldbuilder, who at times seemed to write his Legendarium less to tell the stories of Middle Earth and more to justify all of the work he put in to building the languages of Middle Earth. There’s a reason that all modern Fantasy owes a debt to Tolkien– he practically prefabricated several generations worth of settings already.
But different types of fiction require different types and levels of worldbuilding. Some are more extensive than others, but when done very well, they all require the same level of commitment and effort.
Stranger Things premiered its second season last Friday, just in time to binge for Halloween. I talked about Stranger Things before as being part of a tradition of American Gothic fiction, and this season certainly continues in that. There are new characters, new combinations of characters, and surprising standouts that absolutely made the season. I’ll try to be as spoiler-free as possible, as not everyone had nine hours to spend doing nothing but watching TV and not everyone has finished the season yet, but as with any review, proceed at your own risk.
My favorite Horror media are all in the sub-genre of Horror-Comedy. From Ghostbusters, Beetlejuice, and Young Frankenstein (which I recommended last week) to things like Buffy The Vampire Slayer and Welcome to Night Vale. Popular and classic films within the Horror genre are Horror-Comedy; things like Shawn of the Dead, Scary Movie, and many of Sam Raimi’s non-Spiderman films. Disney Channel and Cartoon Network got in on the act with Gravity Falls and Over the Garden Wall, respectively, which are colorful cartoons for children ages 8-12 that feature Eldritch horrors as the primary antagonists. Mystery Science Theater 3000 has built their franchise on adding comedy to terrible and over the top Horror films like Manos: The Hands of Fate, Hobgoblins, and Reptilicus. And the Nightmare on Elm Street franchise wouldn’t be the same without Freddie’s constant puns and one-liners.
What gives Horror and Comedy common ground is the techniques that they use to achieve their effects: suspense, exaggeration, and transgression. These techniques are not unique to these genres, but they are intrinsic to them, and mesh well together. It allows them to work together in these films and shows. What is horrific and what is funny can often be the same thing, depending on the framing, and that’s what the real difference is between the two genres.
A lot of spin-offs never really make it. They’re DOA back-door pilots that people hate, or sometimes they get maybe a season or half-season, and sometimes you get lucky with an Angel or Star Trek: The Next Deep Space Enterprising Voyager. Actually, Star Trek seems to have the best success with their spin-offs. But there are some that become so big, that they totally eclipse the original in both popularity and cultural influence. Whether it’s because of a different demographic, or a particular performance, or just plain luck, these stories just seemed to grab audiences so much more than the originals, that the originals are all but forgotten.
The post that you are about to read is not very pleasant, because anything regarding the tragic story of the Baudelaire Orphans is, by definition, unpleasant. While I have made the choice to relay the information, opinions, and theories that I have about the events surrounding the burning of the Baudelaire mansion and what became of the three bright, brave, and resourceful children that once lived there, you can make the choice not to read it. If you have mistakenly opened the link to this, close it, and continue on with your day. If you came here looking for puttanesca recipes, might I suggest another website. If you are averse, a word which here means “repelled by”, to forced child labor, secret organizations, or clowns, then do not read any further. You have been warned.
There are two kinds of people in this world– those who start fires, and those who put them out. Both feature in the Netflix retelling of Lemony Snicket’s A Series of Unfortunate Events, though who is which is often difficult to tell. A firefighter, for instance, might put out literal fires as part of their job, but might cause figurative fires by creating massive problems that others then have to solve. A secretary might be very good at solving their boss’ problems, but might also be an arsonist. Lemony Snicket put himself in charge of putting out the massive figurative fire that is the mishandling of the Baudelaire Orphans, perhaps because he was too late to put out the literal fire that burned down their mansion and killed their parents. I myself have locked the door to my room and prepared the window as an escape route in case of any fire, literal or figurative.
After all, if there’s nothing out there, what was that noise?
Okay, I’m hearing Star Wars, I’m hearing Harry Potter, Percy Jackson… Did someone actually say Disney’s Hercules?
All right, now name one with a female protagonist.
That isn’t Buffy.
(Leave your answers in the comments.)
Most Heroines– at least the ones of the past 30-ish years– don’t get chosen but rather choose their adventure. Mulan decides to take up her father’s sword and join the Army. Katniss volunteers in place of her sister for the Hunger Games. Merida’s entire story is about how she should have the choice of what her life will be. It’s hardly ever seen in Sci-Fi; Ripley isn’t a Chosen One, neither is Capt. Janeway or Dana Scully or the Doctor’s Companions (pointed stare at Moffat). Chosen Ones tend to deal with prophesies and mysticism and fate, things more often associated with Fantasy.
There’s also more to girls who are Chosen Ones than being princesses with curses, or being Buffy. They follow certain patterns, the same that the guys follow. There are essentially three different types of Chosen Ones; Type One, the kind that has an explicit prophesy attached to them; Type Two, the kind that is chosen by the gods/the universe’s higher power; and Type Three, the kind that simply has a unique power and is “Great Power, Great Responsibility”-ed into being the hero. Types One and Two are the easiest to write, but the hardest to write well due to just how many of them there are, and Type Three works best for serialized stories. I’ll talk some about each of them, with some of their higher profile examples, as well as some writing advice to nail the character arc.
11/18/2018
Disney Character Profile: Mickey Mouse
valeriemclean1919 Disney, Disney Profiles, Disney's House of Mouse, Disneyland, Fantasia, Mickey Mouse, Mickey Mouse (2013), Steamboat Willie, The Band Concert, The Mickey Mouse Club, Walt Disney, Walt Disney World, Who Framed Roger Rabbit? About Film, About Other Art, About TV 0 Comments
Today marks the 90th anniversary of the premier of “Steamboat Willie”, which Disney marks as the birthday of one Mickey Mouse. Mickey is a bit hard to write about, because what do you say? Walt was very good at writing a story, and his story about Mickey is more or less the story of the company itself. With Mickey as the company mascot, the two are so entwined that to tell the history of one precludes the other. Mickey is such an iconic symbol he is recognized across the world, as recognizable as the Buddha, Jesus, and the Coca-Cola logo.
But he’s also a character.
He’s been in shorts, in films, on TV, on radio, in comics– if Disney could make it, Mickey was on it. Lunch boxes. Toothbrushes. Gas masks. There is a definitive character to him, a distinctive “Mickeyness” that he has no matter where he is.
So let’s delve into that.
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