Brainscape!
Sep. 26th, 2004 06:31 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thedeadlyhookI wish to god sometimes I could record the lunch and/or dinner conversations I have with ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
toysdream. We end up getting into these long, involved discussions that go all over the place, and where everything connects to everything else. It explains a lot about how I (and he) think.
Today's topic: why the medium of comics is, in my mind, on such a downturn as compared to when I was reading comics in the '80s. Discussions of how "static" the art currently fashionable in comics is (e.g., as in Whedon's New X-Men, which looks more or less like snapshots or still frames of a film rather than Will Eisner-style "sequential art," in which a virtuoso of the comic form can literally create movies on paper, but with advantages of effects that only comics can achieve, being drawn art. (Steve Rude's art in The Moth is my current favorite in the comics medium - the two styles are pretty much night and day.)
From there, we got into a discussion about whether or not toy merchandising had anything to do with the vitality of the narrative, in a reversal of the usual view that comics are there to support toys, Toys was wondering if having a vital merchandise line ends up supporting the comics, by way of giving readers voodoo-esque figures for the readers to "inhabit" with the spirits of the story, thus back-investing them into the major story. Which tied into a discussion of the current trends in toys toward static "collectibles" instead of malleable little "action" figures, such as the Star Wars line, which managed to overcome the lameness of the actual figures by including lots of accessories and playsets in which to recreate the world.
From there, the connecting line of discussion was reader/viewer identification - the ability to feel involved with the story through "inhabiting" the characters. I argued that '80s Marvel Comics did a good job of not only allowing you to "inhabit" the characters, but of presenting a world that still seemed to be happening while the camera was "off" - reading monthly comics was like picking up a newspaper to the goings-on of the Marvel Universe in general; it wasn't a "fixed" narrative, but a larger imagined one that you got to experience selected scenes from through the larger comic stories.
And then, to a discussion about character with whom the audience identifies - Spider-Man, for example, is an easy point of entry, since just about anyone can step into his shoes and imagine how they would react in a similar situation. (This could also be said of Buffy in early seasons of the show.) Compare this to a character like John Chricton from Farscape - a very clearly defined character with whom you do tend to identify, but not so much because he's an everyman as because he's an "Alice" character, constantly questioning the alien world he's found himself in. Through asking questions and challenging the order of the alien universe, Chricton asks that environment to explain itself to the viewer. Thus does the environment become explicable, and the viewer feels comfortable in it.
We realized than that this is a dynamic also presented in Doctor Who, through the Doctor's companions - the Doctor's world is alien, and the companion exists to ask questions about it that the viewer might, and to show the Doctor in a light of an ambassador to the viewer. As the Doctor treats his companions, thus does also the show treat its audience, extending friendship, intellectual challenge, and good humor.
And now, circling back to the original point, viewer/reader involvement in the narrative. We talked about Harry Potter, and how that story is set up along lines that don't force you to identify with Harry. You have a choice of three main figures to relate to: Harry, who was born to the world of magic, but new to it (thus needing the "explanations" of a Doctor's companion figure, so thus Harry doubles as an "Alice"); Hermione, who got there through sheer hard work; and Ron, who isn't terribly good at magic although he does his best. You could parallel these three to Buffy, Willow, and Xander, actually - the born-to-it, the earned-through-intelligence, and the not-terribly-good-at-it.
The revelation from this part of the discussion was that readers entering this magic world - "inhabiting" it through the earlier-mentioned voodoo effect - picture themselves as one of the magic users, not the "muggles" who can't use magic, who would logically be parallel to the readers, who can't do magic themselves. Readers identify with the hero. Which explains why the the ad campaign for the most recent Potter book - which used the tagline "attention muggles!"- was so misguided. Nobody who reads those books is there to think of themselves as a muggle, but as a possible magic user. The inhabiting force of those book is the heroic identification - what would it feel like to be Harry, or Hermione, or Ron?
Then, onto talk of the "Robin" syndrome, which I've seen written about by Jules Ffeiffer. Robin, Batman's teen sidekick, was clearly inserted into Batman's story to be an indentification point for the reader (a teen just like you!). However, no one identifies with Robin (at least not as Batman's sidekick - his own stories, such as Teen Titans, are a different matter), because Robin is an annoying overachiever. The reader identifies with the hero, Batman. The reader is not there to tag along with the hero, but to be one. (Likewise the character of Adric introduced during the fifth Doctor's run - "everybody hated Adric... he was a mathematician... a too-perfect little prat," explains Toys.)
Arriving, finally, at a little revelation about Seasons 6-7 of Buffy, the reason those seasons seemed so radically different from Seasons 1-5. The story of Buffy, as a character, became "distanced" from the reader, like unto the comics effect mentioned at the beginning of the discussion. We were not invited to "inhabit" her character any longer. Her separateness from us was emphasized instead. What's more, characters who asked logical questions about the parameters of her world, fulfilling the Doctor's companion role (e.g., Anya's suggestion that she start charging a fee for Slaying vampires) were ridiculed and treated with hostility. Viewers no longer had a "point of entry" in which to access the world.
And thus, to the new phenomenon of the inacessible, passive narrative. In comics lately, in movies, on TV, there's been a trend toward creating stories in which one is told to sit back and keep their mouths shut, to simply observe what is happening, not to question, as if our role as viewers were the equivalent of taking the SAT and filling in the correct answers. In BtVS, the one corrective measure thrown out to counteract this effect was in "Chosen" - the spell to create new Slayers - and this ran up against the unfortunate "muggle syndrome." Buffy and Willow's magic wand giving girls the power to "stand up" reminds us that without it, we're just muggles. We, the viewers, don't get to be Slayers. We're told we get to be Andrew, the "normal" nerdy guy. And who wants to be Andrew?
toysdream. We end up getting into these long, involved discussions that go all over the place, and where everything connects to everything else. It explains a lot about how I (and he) think. Today's topic: why the medium of comics is, in my mind, on such a downturn as compared to when I was reading comics in the '80s. Discussions of how "static" the art currently fashionable in comics is (e.g., as in Whedon's New X-Men, which looks more or less like snapshots or still frames of a film rather than Will Eisner-style "sequential art," in which a virtuoso of the comic form can literally create movies on paper, but with advantages of effects that only comics can achieve, being drawn art. (Steve Rude's art in The Moth is my current favorite in the comics medium - the two styles are pretty much night and day.)
From there, we got into a discussion about whether or not toy merchandising had anything to do with the vitality of the narrative, in a reversal of the usual view that comics are there to support toys, Toys was wondering if having a vital merchandise line ends up supporting the comics, by way of giving readers voodoo-esque figures for the readers to "inhabit" with the spirits of the story, thus back-investing them into the major story. Which tied into a discussion of the current trends in toys toward static "collectibles" instead of malleable little "action" figures, such as the Star Wars line, which managed to overcome the lameness of the actual figures by including lots of accessories and playsets in which to recreate the world.
From there, the connecting line of discussion was reader/viewer identification - the ability to feel involved with the story through "inhabiting" the characters. I argued that '80s Marvel Comics did a good job of not only allowing you to "inhabit" the characters, but of presenting a world that still seemed to be happening while the camera was "off" - reading monthly comics was like picking up a newspaper to the goings-on of the Marvel Universe in general; it wasn't a "fixed" narrative, but a larger imagined one that you got to experience selected scenes from through the larger comic stories.
And then, to a discussion about character with whom the audience identifies - Spider-Man, for example, is an easy point of entry, since just about anyone can step into his shoes and imagine how they would react in a similar situation. (This could also be said of Buffy in early seasons of the show.) Compare this to a character like John Chricton from Farscape - a very clearly defined character with whom you do tend to identify, but not so much because he's an everyman as because he's an "Alice" character, constantly questioning the alien world he's found himself in. Through asking questions and challenging the order of the alien universe, Chricton asks that environment to explain itself to the viewer. Thus does the environment become explicable, and the viewer feels comfortable in it.
We realized than that this is a dynamic also presented in Doctor Who, through the Doctor's companions - the Doctor's world is alien, and the companion exists to ask questions about it that the viewer might, and to show the Doctor in a light of an ambassador to the viewer. As the Doctor treats his companions, thus does also the show treat its audience, extending friendship, intellectual challenge, and good humor.
And now, circling back to the original point, viewer/reader involvement in the narrative. We talked about Harry Potter, and how that story is set up along lines that don't force you to identify with Harry. You have a choice of three main figures to relate to: Harry, who was born to the world of magic, but new to it (thus needing the "explanations" of a Doctor's companion figure, so thus Harry doubles as an "Alice"); Hermione, who got there through sheer hard work; and Ron, who isn't terribly good at magic although he does his best. You could parallel these three to Buffy, Willow, and Xander, actually - the born-to-it, the earned-through-intelligence, and the not-terribly-good-at-it.
The revelation from this part of the discussion was that readers entering this magic world - "inhabiting" it through the earlier-mentioned voodoo effect - picture themselves as one of the magic users, not the "muggles" who can't use magic, who would logically be parallel to the readers, who can't do magic themselves. Readers identify with the hero. Which explains why the the ad campaign for the most recent Potter book - which used the tagline "attention muggles!"- was so misguided. Nobody who reads those books is there to think of themselves as a muggle, but as a possible magic user. The inhabiting force of those book is the heroic identification - what would it feel like to be Harry, or Hermione, or Ron?
Then, onto talk of the "Robin" syndrome, which I've seen written about by Jules Ffeiffer. Robin, Batman's teen sidekick, was clearly inserted into Batman's story to be an indentification point for the reader (a teen just like you!). However, no one identifies with Robin (at least not as Batman's sidekick - his own stories, such as Teen Titans, are a different matter), because Robin is an annoying overachiever. The reader identifies with the hero, Batman. The reader is not there to tag along with the hero, but to be one. (Likewise the character of Adric introduced during the fifth Doctor's run - "everybody hated Adric... he was a mathematician... a too-perfect little prat," explains Toys.)
Arriving, finally, at a little revelation about Seasons 6-7 of Buffy, the reason those seasons seemed so radically different from Seasons 1-5. The story of Buffy, as a character, became "distanced" from the reader, like unto the comics effect mentioned at the beginning of the discussion. We were not invited to "inhabit" her character any longer. Her separateness from us was emphasized instead. What's more, characters who asked logical questions about the parameters of her world, fulfilling the Doctor's companion role (e.g., Anya's suggestion that she start charging a fee for Slaying vampires) were ridiculed and treated with hostility. Viewers no longer had a "point of entry" in which to access the world.
And thus, to the new phenomenon of the inacessible, passive narrative. In comics lately, in movies, on TV, there's been a trend toward creating stories in which one is told to sit back and keep their mouths shut, to simply observe what is happening, not to question, as if our role as viewers were the equivalent of taking the SAT and filling in the correct answers. In BtVS, the one corrective measure thrown out to counteract this effect was in "Chosen" - the spell to create new Slayers - and this ran up against the unfortunate "muggle syndrome." Buffy and Willow's magic wand giving girls the power to "stand up" reminds us that without it, we're just muggles. We, the viewers, don't get to be Slayers. We're told we get to be Andrew, the "normal" nerdy guy. And who wants to be Andrew?