Category: Theory

“Yada, yada, yada” is a modern-day equivalent of “blah, blah, blah” (which is early 20th century). It is American, and emerged during or just after the Second World War. It was preceded by various alternative forms – “yatata, yatata,” “yaddega, yaddega,” et cetera. An example is found from an advertisement in an August 1948 edition of the Long Beach Independent:
“Yatata . . . Yatata” . . . The talk is all about Chatterbox, Knox’s own little Tomboy Cap with the young, young come-on look!”

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Rock the Cradle of Love: Lolita Dramatica Story Analysis

by Katharine Elizabeth Monahan Huntley

Human sexuality will not be bound to societal mores. Incomprehensible and unpredictable, grotesque or beautiful, it is inextricably tied to the heart. Director Adrian Lyne examines this idea, advanced in Vladimir Nabokov’s Lolita. The classic novel contains a storyform rich in illustrations. As with Nabokov’s own screenplay for Stanley Kubrick’s 1962 adaptation, Lyne’s valiant interpretation of Lolita contains the same storyform and stands well enough on its own, however, both films—lacking the whole of main character Humbert Humbert’s intimate confession—stand in the shadow of the original work—extraordinary in its lyrical literariness.

In Lyne’s screen version, Humbert Humbert’s “doomed obsession” for the “nymphet” impact character Lolita “a mixture of . . . tender dreamy childishness and a kind of eerie vulgarity” (Nabokov 44), is captured elegantly in Jeremy Irons’ tortured facial expressions. Dominique Swain’s Lolita is all swinging bare legs and unkempt adolescence. She practices flirting techniques with Humbert—blowing pink bubble gum, batting eyelashes. At first he is in: “. . . my adult disguise . . . a great big handsome hunk of movieland manhood” (Nabokov 39). Once he becomes the “pubescent concubine’s” (Nabokov 148) legal guardian, he is Lolita’s captor, her relentless rapist—because in his own words: “. . . she had nowhere else to go” (Nabokov 142).

Nicely done are the small moments that illustrate the film’s narrative, for example, Humbert’s backward glance of an innocent Lolita twirling inside—caught in a brief moment when the front porch—swing passes by the open door. Another instance is Lolita, bored with the interminable joy(less)ride, pitching soda bottle caps into the auto’s ashtray, clacking her teeth with a candy jawbreaker. Screenwriter Stephen Schiff’s dialogue jars—better is the selection and reworking of Nabokovian poetic passages, in particular, the film’s last line: “What I heard then was the melody of children at play, nothing but that. And I knew that the hopelessly poignant thing was not Lolita’s absence from my side, but the absence of her voice from that chorus.” Ennio Morricone’s melancholic music, interspersed with the 40’s dance tunes Lolita skips to, lends despair to the tragic misadventure.

The director alludes to Humbert’s abhorrence of his torrid torment of Lolita, as the pedophile contemplates (main character benchmark-conscious) what effect (impact character-direction) the daily sexual assaults on his young charge takes: “It was something quite special, that feeling: an oppressive, hideous constraint as if I were with the small ghost of somebody I had just killed” (Nabokov 129).

Certain omissions that truly underscore the magnitude of Humbert Humbert’s unforgivable acts (main character problem-non-accurate) devitalizes its storytelling. The film does not explore the depths of main character Humbert’s depravity: “a cesspool of rotting monsters behind his slow boyish smile” (Nabokov 44), visually unacceptable to the viewing audience.

What is also missing from Lyne’s account is how old Lolita really is at the relationship’s start—twelve—a developmentally significant age difference than that of the fourteen-year-old Lolita in the film. Another example is the untoward advantage Humbert takes, finding Lolita in her classroom without a teacher present: “I sat beside Dolly [Lolita] just behind that neck and that hair, and unbuttoned my overcoat and for sixty-five cents plus the permission to participate in the school play, had Dolly put her inky, chalky, red-knuckled hand under the desk” (Nabokov 198). Further, and most devastating: “. . . the thought that with patience and luck I might produce eventually a nymphet with my blood in her exquisite veins, a Lolita the Second, who would be eight or nine around 1960 . . . indeed, the telescopy of my mind, or un-mind, was strong enough to distinguish in the remoteness of time a . . . bizarre, tender, salivating Dr. Humbert, practicing on supremely lovely Lolita the Third the art of being a granddad” (Nabokov 174).

That Adrian Lyne’s Lolita could not be released as a feature film for fear it goes too far is unfounded. The real problem is, because of the constraints of the medium in which the story is recounted, the film lacks the ability to make commentary on what is being seen on screen. It is Nabokov’s commentary in the novel, made through Humbert’s narrative, that provides a main character throughline exhaustively detailed.

In love with Nabokov’s “American sweet immortal dead love” (Nabokov 280), I hope Lyne’s accomplished film production will intrigue an audience—who perhaps have not yet read the “horrific comic masterpiece” (Angell 156)—to take on the intellectual and emotional challenge the novel offers. That is, to feel “a private, perhaps unconscious anguish over the story’s sexual complexity” and the “dazzled admiration for its satiric brilliance and literary weight” (Angell 156). The reader that can rise above the horrors of the sexual relationship between Lolita and Humbert will realize: ” . . . this is a love story, after all—an unexpected grand romance, with a poignancy and conviction that match anything . . .” (Angell 159).

Postscript:

Click the image to read: “The Real Story That Inspired ‘Lolita’ Is Somehow More Disturbing Than The Actual Book.”

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Olympian Feat: Without Limits Dramatica Story Analysis

by Katharine Elizabeth Monahan Huntley

Steve Prefontaine has none of the usual insecurities. A track star in high school, he is courted by top colleges — the only one he wishes to attend, however, is the University of Oregon. Before he enrolls, Pre wants Bill Bowerman (impact character), a coach (impact character concern — being) who doesn’t believe in the value (impact character critical flaw) of himself recruiting, to invite him. Pre’s confidence (main vs. impact character catalyst) in his skill (unique ability) as a runner accelerates the relationship between Bill Bowerman and himself:

PRE: (to Bowerman’s assistant coach, Dellinger): I’ve got three weeks to sign my letter of intent before I’m gonna lose my slot at any college worth going to (main character signpost 1 — obtaining). Here’s my philosophy — I don’t go anywhere near Eugene unless Bowerman personally lets me know he wants me (main vs. impact character thematic conflict — value vs. worth).

EXT PHONE BOOTH

DELLINGER: Bill, for God’s sake! Everybody in the country’s been offering him the moon. All he wants is one word from you, to know that you want to coach him (impact character unique ability — ability).

Bowerman considers (main vs. impact character signpost 1 — conscious) Dellinger’s advice and writes to Pre: “If you do us the honor of attending the University of Oregon (story driver — action), there is no doubt in my mind that you can become (overall story precondition) the nation’s finest distance runner, perhaps the world’s” (overall story benchmark — future).

The overall story domain is explored in the confines of amateur track and field competition (situation) where athletes are ranked individually and in teams, whether for college or country. The goal centers on Steve Prefontaine’s progress as a college distance runner. To make his development meaningful, a requirement of the future is put in place (The Olympic Games) — Pre’s basic competitive drive (subconscious) is the prerequisite, and his insistence on becoming part of Oregon’s team an unessential restriction placed on the effort to achieve the goal.

In the overall story, proven (overall story problem) records drive the athletes to break them; in the impact character throughline, Bowerman’s proven (impact character problem) method of coaching is what Pre challenges (main character approach — doer):

BOWERMAN: Your pulse is north of 190 — just a rough guess (main vs. character focus — accurate) but I’d say you were exceeding the agreed-upon (impact character problem — proven) speed limit.

Pre’s natural instinct (main vs. impact character concern — preconscious) as a frontrunner leads to a contentious relationship with Bowerman — but his (in)experience (main character thematic issue), particularly in international competition, necessitates Bowerman’s ability (impact character unique ability) as a coach.

Pre is driven by the expectations (main character problem) he places upon himself. He arrogantly refuses to acknowledge any innate talent — he believes it is only by sheer guts (main character solution — determination) that he crosses the finish line first. The epitome of poetry in motion, Pre died instantly in an auto accident the evening of winning the American 5000 meter. In his eulogy, Bill Bowerman illuminates how the coach who went on to create Nike shoes and his “showboat” runner who embodied the phrase “Just do it” make Without Limits a success story (outcome), despite Steve Prefontaine’s tragic end.

BOWERMAN: All my life, man and boy, I’ve operated under the assumption that the main idea in running was to win the race (impact character domain — manner of thinking). Naturally, when I became a coach I tried to teach people how to do that. Tried to teach Pre how to do that. Tried like hell to teach Pre to do that. And Pre taught me. Taught me I was wrong.

Pre, you see, was troubled by knowing (main character critical flaw — fact) that a mediocre effort can win a race and a magnificent effort can lose one. Winning a race wouldn’t necessarily demand that he give it everything he had from start to finish. He never ran any other way (main character resolve — steadfast). I couldn’t get him to, and God knows I tried . . . but . . . Pre was stubborn (main character vs. impact character domain — fixed attitude). He insisted (main character solution — determination) on holding himself to a higher standard than victory (main character judgment — good). ‘A race is a work of art’ (main character concern — doing) is what he said and what he believed and he was out to make it one every step of the way (problem solving style — logical).

Of course he wanted to win. Those who saw Pre compete (main character domain — activity) or who competed against him were never in doubt how much he wanted to win. But how he won mattered to him more (main vs. impact character solution — process). Pre thought I was a hard case. But he finally got it through my head (impact character resolve — change) that the real purpose of running isn’t to win a race (main vs. impact character problem — result). It’s to test to the limits of the human heart. That he did . . . No one did it more often. No one did it better.

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To Kill A Mockingbird: Dramatica Story Analysis

by Katharine Elizabeth Monahan Huntley

 “I ain’t cynical, Miss Alexandra. Tellin’ the truth’s not cynical, is it?”—Dill

The events in Harper Lee’s To Kill A Mockingbird are told from the point of view of six-year-old Scout Finch, as she witnesses the transformations that take place in her small Alabama town during a controversial trial in which her father agrees to defend a black man who is unjustly accused of raping a white woman. The narrative voice, however, is that of a mature woman, looking back on these events from the perspective of adulthood. Her story depicts the gradual moral awakening of the two children as they come to appreciate their father’s courage and integrity in resisting the pressures of small-town bigotry and injustice. They come to realize that things are not always what they seem and that the individual must sometimes be willing to defend unpopular views if he believes that he is doing what is right. (Angyal, 1986, p. 1677)

The boy next door to main character Jean Louise (Scout) Finch in Harper Lee’s classic To Kill a Mockingbird is Charles Baker (Dill) Harris—a character based on Harper Lee’s childhood friend, fellow writer Truman Capote. Dill comes to Maycomb each summer to visit his Aunt Stephanie Crawford. Scout describes Dill as “a curiosity . . . his hair was snow white and stuck to his head like duck-fluff; he was a year my senior but I towered over him. . . . We came to know Dill as a pocket Merlin, whose head teemed with eccentric plans, strange longings, and quaint fancies” (Lee, 1960, p. 8).

Scout’s impact character, the “Boo” next door, is shy recluse Arthur Radley:
“The Radley Place jutted into a sharp curve beyond our house. . . . The house was low, was once white with a deep front porch and green shutters, but had long ago darkened to the colour of the slate-grey yard around it. Rain-rotten shingles drooped over the eaves of the veranda; oak trees kept the sun away. The remains of a picket fence drunkenly guarded the front yard . . .” (Lee, 1960, p. 9).

In addition to fulfilling the sidekick role, Dill serves as an echo of Boo’s loneliness:

“Why do you reckon Boo Radley’s never run off?” Dill sighed a long sigh and turned away from me. “Maybe he doesn’t have anywhere to run off to . . .” (Lee, 1960, p. 159).

Yet unlike Boo, Dill can entertain a hope of escape:

“I think I’ll be a clown when I get grown . . . there ain’t one thing in this world I can do about folks except laugh, so I’m gonna join the circus and laugh my head off” (Lee, 1960, p. 238).

Atticus Finch, Scout’s father, counsels Scout: “You never really know a man until you stand in his shoes and walk around in them” (Lee, 1960, p. 308). The following Dramatica througline synopsis and act order describes Boo Radley’s storyline, the “mockingbird” in Lee’s masterpiece, where Scout ultimately discovers “. . . just standing on the Radley porch was enough” (Lee, 1960, p. 308).

Arthur (Boo) Radley’s Throughline Synopsis
As a young boy Boo Radley fell in with the wrong crowd causing his father to shut him away in their home. Boo is not seen or heard again for fifteen years until he coolly stabs his father’s leg with a pair of scissors, causing fresh scandal and contributing to the neighborhood legend of the Radley house of horrors:

“You reckon he’s crazy?” Miss Maudie shook her head.” “If he’s not he should be by now. The things that happen to people we really never know. What happens in households behind closed doors, what secrets . . .” (Lee, 1960, p. 51). The children of the neighborhood are equal parts fascinated and terrified of Boo, but as time goes by, they come to realize he is only a gentle soul who has their best interests at heart.

“I sometimes felt a twinge of remorse, when passing by the old place, at ever having taken part in what must have been sheer torment to Arthur Radley—what reasonable recluse wants children peeping through his shutters, delivering greetings on the end of a fishing pole, wandering in his collards at night?” (Lee, 1960, p. 267)

Throughline as it relates to Manipulation
Boo Radley must maneuver within the confines of the way people think about him. Keeping Boo hidden away creates a mystique fueled by ignorance and fear to surround Boo, undermining his efforts to function in the outside world.

Concern as it relates to Developing a Plan
In order to make friends with the children without frightening them, Boo comes up with the idea of leaving them gifts in a tree.

Thematic Issue as it relates to Circumstances
Boo Radley is very unhappy with his environment. He is a recluse, and the implication is that is it is not by his own choice. He makes several attempts to alleviate his lonely state by trying to befriend the children. He eventually is able to make a positive impact on the children, Scout in particular; they come to understand he is not a monster, and the circumstances surrounding his life were and are beyond his control.

Thematic Issue Counterpoint as it relates to Situation
A reasonable evaluation of Maycomb finds Boo Radley as only one of its many eccentrics.

Thematic Conflict as it relates to Circumstances vs. Situation
Boo’s living situation is desolate, which leaves him emotionally deprived of friendship.

Problem as it relates to Desire
Boo’s drive to befriend and protect the children is a problem for him because, in the Radley family way of doing things, his older brother wants him to keep to himself. As an example, after discovering Boo has been putting gifts in a tree for Scout and Jem, Nathan Radley fills the knot-hole with cement to stop him from continuing.

Solution as it relates to Ability
When the children are in danger of being killed, Boo is able to save their lives, which enables him afterward to come forward and meet them, “He turned to me and nodded towards the front door. ‘You’d like to say good night to Jem, wouldn’t you, Mr. Arthur? Come right in'” (Lee, 1960, p. 305).

Symptom as it relates to Projection
The probability that Scout will never meet Boo is a problem for her, as she will never learn to accept him until she does:
“But I still looked for him each time I went by. Maybe someday we would see him . . . It was only a fantasy. We would never see him. He probably did go out when the moon was down and gaze at Miss Stephanie Crawford. I’d have picked somebody else to look at, but that was his business. He would never gaze at us.” (Lee, 1960, p. 267)

Response as it relates to Speculation
Scout spends a considerable amount of time fantasizing about ever meeting Boo, as she looks for him each time she passes by his house, “‘You aren’t starting that again, are you?’ said Atticus one night, when I expressed a stray desire just to have one good look at Boo Radley before I died. ‘If you are, I’ll tell you right now: stop it'” (Lee, 1960, p. 267).

Unique Ability as it relates to Circumstances
Boo must carry Jem back to the Finch’s for medical attention. These circumstances result in Scout, in her own home, to literally confront her personal problem—the man she has prejudiced herself against.

Critical Flaw as it relates to Senses
Boo has been made an invisible being by his family. As no-one can see or hear him, his efforts at making friends are blocked.

Benchmark as it relates to Changing One’s Nature
As Boo overcomes his shyness toward the children he is able to envision ways to make friends with them.

The Impact Character Throughline Act Order:
Impact Character Signpost 1 as it relates to Playing a Role
Boo Radley appears to the townspeople to be:
“. . . a malevolent phantom. People said he existed but Jem and I had never seen him. People said he went out at night when the moon was high, and peeped in windows. When people’s azaleas froze in a cold snap, it was because he had breathed on them. Any stealthy crimes committed in Maycomb were his work.” (Lee, 1960, p. 9)

Impact Character Journey 1 from Playing a Role to Changing One’s Nature
Boo’s impact on the children changes from them looking t him as being a horror locked away from the light of day to becoming a strange and curious friendly spirit:

“‘ . . . he’s crazy, I reckon, like they say, but Atticus, I swear to God he ain’t ever harmed us, he ain’t ever hurt us, he coulda cut my throat from ear to ear that night but he tried to mend my pants instead’. . . It was obvious that he had not followed a word Jem said, for all Atticus said was, ‘You’re right. We’d better keep this and the blanket to ourselves. Some day, maybe, Scout can thank him for covering her up.’ ‘Thank who?’ I asked. ‘Boo Radley. You were so busy looking at the fire you didn’t know it when he put the blanket around you.’ My stomach turned to water and I nearly threw up” (Lee, 1960, pp. 79-80)
Once Jem realizes Boo is the one leaving gifts for the children, he is able to overcome his fear of Boo and decides to write him a thank you note to continue this new line of communication, “‘Dear sir,’ said Jem. ‘We appreciate the—no, we appreciate everything which you have put into the tree for us. Your very truly, Jeremy Atticus Finch'” (Lee, 1960, p. 68).

Impact Character Signpost 2 as it relates to Changing One’s Nature
Although the children still think of Boo as a frightening phantom, his actions have transformed him into more of a friendly ghost than an evil apparition ready to cause harm.

Impact Character Journey 2 from Changing One’s Nature to Conceiving an Idea
As Boo becomes more human in the children’s eyes, they cannot conceive of why he has remained in what must be a miserable existence:
“‘Why do you reckon Boo Radley’s never run off?’ Dill sighed a long sigh and turned away from me. ‘Maybe he doesn’t have anywhere to run off to . . .” (Lee, 1960, p. 159).

Impact Character Signpost 3 as it relates to Conceiving an Idea
The children spend countless hours devising ways to meet Boo Radley:
“Dill had hit upon a fool-proof plan to make Boo Radley come out at no cost to ourselves (place a trail of lemon drops from the back door to the front yard and he’d follow it like an ant).” (Lee, 1960, p. 159)

Impact Character Journey 3 from Conceiving an Idea to Developing a Plan
Up until Scout and Jem are really in danger, the ideas Boo has come up with to make friends with the children have left his identity ambiguous. Once he sees Bob Ewell terrorizing them, he devises and implements a plan to save them, that in turn reveals to the children he is the man who has watched over them for many years.

Impact Character Signpost 4 as it relates to Developing a Plan
Boo has the idea “his” children are in danger and comes up with a way to protect them, that ultimately saves their lives.

Sources Cited:
Angyal, A. J. (1986). To Kill a Mockingbird. In F. N. Magill (Ed.), Masterplots II (pp. 1677-1681). Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Salem Press
Lee, H. (1960). To Kill a Mockingbird. London: Mandarin.

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It Came From Outer Space: The Iron Giant: Dramatica Story Analysis

by Katharine Elizabeth Monahan Huntley

Fascination with aliens—paranoia (overall story thematic counterpoint-threat) in progressive (overall story concern) times. Reaction to the unknown is the topic explored in the politically subversive, amazingly stellar, animated feature, The Iron Giant. Inspired by Ted Hughes, written for the screen by Tim McCanlies and directed by Brad Bird, The Iron Giant is a “top notch” children’s story for adults and a Dramatica grand argument story relevant far beyond its retro time period—the 1950’s Cold War (overall story domain-universe).

“Hogarth Hughes. Ready for action” (main character approach-doer) is an imaginative boy with a sense of adventure (main character domain-physics) that, more often than not, lands him in hot water. Collecting strays (main character signpost 1-obtaining) he finds on outings is a source of affectionate exasperation for his single working mother. When Hogarth saves the metal man (impact character) who fell to earth (story driver-action)—the nine-year-old is wise (main character thematic counterpoint) enough to know this is one innocent creature that should not follow him home. The “strange invader,” however, is determined to attach himself to Hogarth (main vs. impact character story domain-mind).

Hogarth: Stay. . . . I mean it!

One train wreck later (overall story problem-effect) convinces Hogarth the robot with regenerative powers needs a hideout, before he is found out. And the town “wigs out.” The local scrap yard, run by resident beatnik Dean, is just the place. Dean introduces Hogarth to espresso and philosophy. Hogarth introduces the “Frankenbot with out-of-state plates” to the stunned sculptor: “Dean stares at Hogarth in expressionless shock.”

Hogarth: He needs food. And shelter. . . . He can stay?!

Dean: Tonight. Tomorrow, I don’t know . . .

Complications arise with the arrival of an officious government agent, on the scene in the interest of national security (overall story thematic issue).

Kent: Kent Mansly. United States Government. Unexplained Phenomena Department.

It is not too long before Mansly takes a room at the Hughes’ and zeroes in on Hogarth (main character critical flaw-security):

Kent: Hey, mind if I ask you a few questions . . . Buckaroo? Now why would you tell your mom about a giant robot, Slugger? . . . How big is this thing, Ranger? . . . . You know, Hogarth, we live in a strange and wondrous time. The atomic age. But, there’s dark side to progress (overall story concern).

Hogarth gives Mansly the slip and bikes over to Dean’s. Momentarily casting worries (main vs. impact character story thematic counterpoint) aside, Hogarth plays (main character concern; overall story dividend-doing) with the Iron Giant—the “greatest thing since television.” He teaches the “robotron” the difference between heroic Superman and villainous Atomo and solemnly explains issues of life and death:

Hogarth: Things die. It’s part of life. It’s bad to kill, but it’s not bad to die.

Giant: You die?

Hogarth: Well, yes. Someday.

Giant: I die?

Hogarth: I don’t know. You’re made of metal. But you have feelings. And you think (impact character thematic issue-thought) about things, and that means you have a soul. And souls don’t die. . . . Mom says it’s something inside—all good things. And that it goes on forever and ever (main character solution-unending).

Hogarth returns home. His mother is working the late shift and Mansly is in full G-man mode. Mansly confronts Hogarth with factual (overall story catalyst) evidence of the Giant and announces the Army will arrive in the A.M.

Hogarth and Dean manage to circumvent the military operation—but an incident far more disturbing occurs. They discover the Iron Giant’s capacity (main vs. impact character story inhibitor-ability) to effect (impact character problem) annihilation:

Hogarth: It was an accident. He’s our friend!

Dean: He’s a piece of hardware, Hogarth. Why do you think the Army was here? He’s a weapon. A big gun that walks!

The Iron Giant is ashamed and clanks off—only to be spotted by the retreating Army. Meanwhile, Dean determines the cause (impact character solution) of the Giant’s transformation (impact character benchmark-becoming) is direct threat (overall story thematic counterpoint) and that he is only reacting defensively. Dean attempts to intervene before the Army can destroy the Iron Giant—but Mansly exacerbates the situation. An all out attack turns the Iron Giant into a killing machine—until Hogarth stops (main character growth) him:

Hogarth: You don’t have to be a gun. You are what you choose to be. You choose.

At this time, Mansly, insane with power, orders the missile launch that will destroy the Iron Giant—and take out the United States. Once the Iron Giant comprehends an atomic holocaust is at stake (limit-optionlock)—he heroically jets to the sky with his afterburners supercharged—Superman (impact character resolve-change) saving the world at the cost (being) of his own life: “The ROAR of his engines fades into silence as a look of peace falls over his iron face. . . . The blackness of the night sky goes brilliant WHITE.”

What is recovered is delivered to Hogarth. An iron part that will surely find its way back to the Iron Giant:

INT. HOGARTH’S ROOM-NIGHT
Hogarth is awakened by a RATTLING SOUND. He looks to see the scorched PIECE OF IRON on his dresser as it drops to the floor and starts moving toward his window. Hogarth BEAMS . . . and opens the window to release it (main character resolve-steadfast). MUSIC SOARS as the boy watches the piece of metal GO, his mind swimming with new possibilities (main character judgment-good).

“Question authority.” “Trust No One.” From The Iron Giant producer Pete Townshend’s time to the new millennium, a child who understands television is good and the government is suspect is a wise (main character unique ability) one indeed. Hogarth represents a new era of enlightenment (main character thematic issue), and the Iron Giant statue erected in the (Norman) Rockwell town square serves as an indicator of progress (overall story goal; outcome-success) towards intelligent life on earth.

Quotations are transcribed directly from the film and/or The Iron Giant screenplay by Tim McCanlies and Brad Bird; July 11, 1997 Draft by Brent Forrester and Brad Bird; Screen Story by Brad Bird

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Arsenic and Old Lace: Dramatica Story Analysis

by Katharine Elizabeth Monahan Huntley

Frank Capra’s Arsenic and Old Lace “. . . is a Halloween tale of Brooklyn, where anything can happen and it usually does.” Mortimer Brewster, dramatic critic and main character, finds himself in the situation (mc domain-universe) of “The guy who wrote the bachelor’s bible finally getting hooked himself.” Standing in line to obtain (relationship story concern) his and his intended’s (Elaine Harper, the influence character) marriage license, he attempts to avoid (mc solution) publicity by whispering: “I don’t want this to get out for a while” to the court clerk (mc thematic issue of delay), and dodging photographers by wearing dark “cheaters” and ducking (mc approach-doer) into a telephone booth.

Exasperated by the problems this endeavor (rs domain-physics) has created, Mortimer sounds off to Elaine: “Don’t you understand (rs signpost 1)? How could I marry you? Me, the symbol of bachelorhood! (rs thematic issue of self interest) I’ve sneered at every love scene in every play! I’ve written four million words against marriage! Now I’ll be hooked to a minister’s daughter (rs thematic counterpoint-morality)! . . . I won’t go through with it and that’s that (rs inhibitor-commitment)!” Elaine, dewy-eyed faithfulness (rs response), patiently waits out his tirade and they go on to get hitched.

The newlyweds taxi over to the Brewster sisters’ house. Elaine is the proverbial girl next door, having grown up in the parsonage next to Mortimer’s maiden aunts (“they’re like pressed rose leaves”). The young couple’s intention is to announce the marriage to their respective relatives, then set off for a honeymoon in Niagara Falls. Meanwhile, the aunts and Reverend Harper are taking tea, discussing Mortimer and Elaine’s relationship. Reverend Harper voices his disapproval of Mortimer’s book, Marriage: A Fraud and a Failure: “No man with this published attitude on marriage should take any man’s daughter any place, anytime.” (mc symptom-oppose)

Reverend Harper departs. Mortimer enters and reveals his newlywed status to Aunt Abby and Aunt Martha. They are thrilled, as this is what they had hoped (ic thematic issue) for Elaine and their nephew all along. When Mortimer asks for the hidden notes on his forthcoming novel, Mind over Marriage, the critic’s concern for his future indicates conflict between private and public persona—yes he may be a married man, at least on paper, but in the eyes of the public he is the quintessential bachelor. In the search, Mortimer discovers a dead body in the window seat (story driver-action). Further, his aunts are the ones responsible (os catalyst) for killing him and a dozen or so others with kindness in the form of arsenic in elderberry wine. From this point on the objective story is emphasized, particularly in the storytelling, to the near exclusion of the main character, influence character, and relationship story throughlines.

The objective story domain is psychology, and the characters’ different ways of thinking are what causes problems. “Charge” is the battle cry of Mortimer’s brother, believing himself to be Teddy Roosevelt. Long lost other brother Jonathan is a psychopath with a cold body of his own and no qualms about rubbing out immediate family. Aunt Abby and Aunt Martha’s pursuit (os problem) of lonely old gentlemen to poison (“Murder Incorporated”), thinking it the charitable thing to do, is a dilemma—Mortimer scolds: “I don’t know how I can explain this to you, but it’s not only against the law, it’s wrong! It’s not a nice thing to do! People wouldn’t understand. . . . this is developing into a very bad habit!”

The story goal of becoming is somewhat nebulous, however, becoming as an objective story concern is quite evident. Elaine becoming part of a wacky family: “You wouldn’t want to set up housekeeping in a padded cell . . . insanity runs in my family—it practically gallops!”—Jonathan becoming the “prodigal son”—his Boris Karloff countenance undergoing a physical transformation at the tremulous hands of Dr. Einstein–the burly cop on the beat becoming a playwright, and so forth. The thematic conflict of commitment vs. responsibility is also quite marked. O’Hara takes over Officer Brophy’s responsibilities for protecting the neighborhood, a nephew’s responsibilities to his family take precedence over the commitment to a new bride, much discussion is given to committing Teddy to Happydale.

“Egads!” Mortimer comes across a new body (Jonathan’s victim) in the window seat and demands an explanation from Aunt Abby. She’s outraged: “It’s a stranger. . . . It’s getting so anybody thinks he can walk in this house . . . That man’s an impostor! And if he came here to be buried in our cellar he’s mistaken!” Mortimer is exasperated: “Aunt Abby how can I believe you!” (os symptom-disbelief) He feels he must prevent (os solution) his aunts from becoming Sing Sing inmates for their well-intentioned misdeeds. He takes the necessary steps (mc mental sex-male) to commit Teddy sooner than originally planned. Mortimer’s thinking is, if anyone becomes wise to the bodies buried down in Panama (the cellar), Teddy can take the rap “. . . everybody knows he’s crazy.”

The nocturnal activities of Jonathan and his henchman, weaselly Dr. Einstein, skulking about with their body (Mr. Spinoza), and the aunt’s fussy preparations to hold funeral services for their murder victim (Mr. Hoskins), not to mention a near hysteric Elaine running in and out of the household (ic benchmark of preconscious) alerts Officer O’Hara. He stops in—but instead of clueing into how things are going (forewarning of progress), he pitches his play to Mortimer (os inhibitor of self-interest). Madness, mayhem, double takes and pratfalls continue until Teddy’s blasted bugle brings in Lieutenant Rooney.

Temporary sanity sorts out the confusion—Jonathan is carted off by New York’s finest—Mr. Witherspoon packs up Teddy’s duffel for Happydale (after pitching his play to the dramatic critic)—Aunt Abby and Aunt Martha avoid the slammer by committing themselves as well, but not before letting Mortimer in on a family secret. He is not really a Brewster, but the “son of sea cook”—a happy fact he shouts to the world as he kisses his wife for all to see (mc resolve-change) and starts (mc growth) his happily ever after (outcome-success; story judgment-good).

Postscript: I once spotted Abe Vigoda “Fish” at Diablo Valley College “The Rock.” His nephew was in a school play.

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My So Called Life and Buffy the Vampire Slayer

by Katharine Elizabeth Monahan Huntley

Forget academics. When it comes to high school, the rule is to be cool. For main characters Angela in the My So Called Life episode “Self-Esteem” written by Winnie Holzman and directed by Michael Engler, and Xander, in Joss Whedon’s Buffy the Vampire Slayer episode “The Zeppo” written by Dan Vebber and directed by James Whitmore Jr., image is of utmost concern.

Both episodes of the critically acclaimed television dramas are Dramatica grand argument stories. Each emphasizes the thematic conflict of worth vs. value. In My So-Called Life, feelings of self-worth are explored in the overall story domain of fixed attitudes (mind)-and are directly related to the problem of expectations-high and low. For example, Renee Lerner, the high school math teacher calls out in the hallway:

MS. LERNER
Angela Chase! Why weren’t you in geometry review? 
Angela, you need this. . . . How do you expect (overall story problem) to pass your midterm? [To other teacher] It breaks my heart, some of these girls. They are just so smart and yet . . .

MS. CHAVATAL
It’s called low self-esteem.

The thematic issue of worth is carried on when Rayanne and Sharon express disapproval of Angela and Jordan’s (impact character) relationship-one that is confined to kissing in the boiler room:

SHARON
Why is he keeping you two a secret?

ANGELA
How do you know he’s keeping us a secret?

SHARON
Rayanne told me.

RAYANNE
Look . . . we care about you. When I was drinking and drugging, you wanted me to stop (main character growth), as my friend.

ANGELA
Wait. You’re comparing me making out with Jordan Catalano to you getting your stomach pumped?

RAYANNE
You don’t see the connection?

SHARON
The connection is self-respect. . . . You deserve, like, so much better.

ANGELA
Just because he’s not Kyle and he doesn’t parade with me down the halls holding hands.

In an effort to save face, Angela brazenly lies to her friends, telling them Jordan has asked her to meet him at a music club. Rayanne and Sharon force the issue by accompanying Angela to the Pike Street club. Angela is humiliated when Jordan blatantly ignores her-compelling Rayanne to confront the beautiful, brooding boyfriend:

RAYANNE
You know you like her. Would it kill you to admit it? Maybe treat her halfway decent? Because, you know, she deserves it. And she’s not going to wait around for you forever (main vs. impact direction-unending).

Two objective character subplots offer thematic parallels. In one, Angela’s father, Graham, is undergoing a career crisis. Determined (overall story solution) to do what he loves and excels in, instead of what is expected (overall story problem), is behavior Graham’s father-in-law, Chuck Wood, finds indulgent:

CHUCK
Where’s Mr. Fixit tonight?

PATTY
He’s taking a [cooking] class.

CHUCK
He ought to be pulling his weight. . . . [You should] get one of those . . . headhunter[s]. That’s what you need. Somebody to get him a job . . . [so he can] stop sponging off his wife.

PATTY
Dad, this is between me and Graham. Okay, please? You don’t know all the particulars.

CHUCK
I’m your father. That’s the particulars. And you deserve better.

Graham’s renowned culinary teacher turns out to be drunken disappointment, prompting a classmate to comment: “We deserve better. I mean, don’t we?”
Much to his and Patty’s surprise (overall story problem-expectations), Graham later informs her: “They want me to teach the class.”

In another subplot, the new English teacher attempts to convince a student to sign up for the drama club:

RICKIE
Why are you doing this? This is not something I am gonna do. I’m not the sort of person who joins things, okay?

KATIMSKY
I’m really sorry, but no, that’s not okay. . . . Well, I mean, come on, I’m a teacher. How do you expect (overall story problem) me to react to a ridiculous statement like that-you don’t join things? Who are you, Groucho Marx-you’d never belong to any club that would have you as a member? . . . Look, what is holding you back here? That I’m not cool enough? Don’t let the fact that your English teacher is a dork stop you from fulfilling your potential. Just pretend-that I’m a track coach. I happen to notice that you can run fast. I need you on my team (overall story problem-expectation)! It’s as simple as that, Enrique.

RICKIE
Stop calling me that! Why are you calling me that?

KATIMSKY
I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I keep forgetting. It’s just, it’s just-gee whiz, it’s such a great name. When I was in high school, I hated my name. I hated it.

RICKIE
I don’t-hate my name, I-I just . . .

KATIMSKY
Oh, oh good. I’m really glad. No-nobody should hate who they are.

After “being made a fool of by the only person I’ll ever love” (main vs. impact thematic issue-fantasy), Angela surreptitiously meets Jordan one last time:

ANGELA
The truly frightening thing, is that even after everything that happened, Jordan Catalano left a note in my locker to meet him in the boiler room. The nauseating part is that I went.

She demands he admit: “That all of this happened (main vs. impact thematic counterpoint-fact). That you have emotions. That you can’t, like, treat me one way in front of your friends then the next minute leave me some note.”

Success (outcome) is illustrated when Jordan, in front of everyone, asks Angela “Can we, like, go somewhere?” (impact character resolve-change) and her immediate response (story goal-preconscious) is “Sure.” With all eyes upon them-they parade down the hall, holding hands (main character judgment-good).

For Xander in Buffy the Vampire Slayer, the real horror show in high school is not necessarily Sunnydale’s proximity to the Hellmouth (overall story domain-universe) and the always impending end (overall story focus) of the world, but combating the role (main character concern-being) of the “boy who has no cool.”

CORDELIA
It must be really hard when all your friends have, like, superpowers (impact character thematic conflict-experience vs. skill). Slayer, werewolf, witches, vampires, and you’re like this little nothing (main character thematic counterpoint-ability).

XANDER
. . . I happen to be an integral part of that group (impact character). I happen to have a lot to offer (main vs. impact thematic conflict-worth vs. value).

CORDELIA
. . . Oh, please.

Xander obsesses (main character domain-psychology) over his “lack (main character growth-start) of cool,” and sets out to discover what will make him unique (mc thematic issue-desire). In the midst of apocalyptic evil (overall story thematic counterpoint-fact), Xander is only allowed to run inconsequential errandsleaving idle time that allows for running with the wrong crowd-like becoming (main character journey 2) the wheel man for zombies.

At story’s end, Xander comes to realization (main character resolve-change) that cool is not about show and tell-but quiet grace (main character judgment-good) under unexpected (main vs. impact-solution) pressure.
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Welcome to the Dollhouse and Happiness

by Katharine Elizabeth Monahan Huntley

“Well, there are never enough entertaining movies. . . . But there’s entertainment, and then there’s engagement.  And ideally both can happen.”—Todd Solondz

Todd Solondz, an original voice in the independent film world, creates family relationships that are immediately, if not uneasily, recognizable.  Welcome to the Dollhouse is a grand argument story.  Happiness is not, it is instead: “. . . five separate tales of modern alienation, romantic woe, and shocking transgression into a merciless critique of American lifestyles . . .” (“That Lovin’ Feeling” 37).

The title Welcome to the Dollhouse serves as ironic commentary on main character Dawn Wiener’s throughline, neither welcome nor a pretty doll the eleven-year-old is put in her place and must stay there.  She is the quintessential middle child of a middle class family in suburbia, New Jersey.

Dawn’s main character throughline is an exploration of her present situation.  Ignored at home and designated “dogface” at school, she is not accepted.  Typical conversation is: “Why do you hate me?”  “Because you’re ugly.”  Nevertheless, when confronted with a dilemma, Dawn takes immediate, external action.  In one scene, she shoots a spitball back at the boys who have antagonized her.  Unfortunately, it hits a teacher right in the eye.  When she explains to her parents in the principal’s office: “I was fighting back!”  Dawn’s mother’s response is: “Who ever told you to fight back?”

The impact character function is handed off between two characters; Brandon, a junior high classmate of Dawn’s, and Steve, lead singer of Dawn’s older brother Mark’s garage rock band.  They each contend with issues of image.  Brandon puts on a cool juvenile delinquent act; Steve is a longhaired wannabe rock star popular with the girls—high school and junior high.  Neither is onscreen at the same time, both irrevocably impact Dawn.

In the main vs. impact story throughline, teen crush takes on new meaning when Steve, adored by Dawn, humiliates her after weeks of encouraging the infatuation:

DAWN

I was wondering if . . . well, I’ve been thinking seriously of building another clubhouse, and I wanted to know, would you be interested in being my first honorary member?

STEVE

What are you talking about?

DAWN

The “special people” club.

STEVE

Special people?

DAWN

What’s the matter?

STEVE

Do you know what “special people” means?

DAWN

What?

STEVE

Special people equals retarded.  Your club is for retards.

Dawn and Brandon continue on in the main vs. impact story throughline, learning the “mechanics of the dance,” a courtship ritual that necessitates vicious dialogue to protect their vulnerability:

DAWN

Brandon, are you still going to rape me?

BRANDON

What time is it?

DAWN

I don’t know.  But I guess I don’t have to be home yet.

BRANDON

Nah, there’s not enough time.

DAWN

Thanks, Brandon.

BRANDON

[Affectionately holding her close] Yeah, but just remember, this didn’t happen.  I mean no one . . . because if you do, I really will rape you next time.

DAWN

Okay.

The overall story throughline addresses what happens to those who have ideas about what makes them unique, ideas that differ from the accepted norm.  They fail.  Steve goes off to New York:

MARK

He dropped out of school and left town.  He wants to try making in New York as the next Jim Morrison.

MR. WIENER

Stupid idiot kid.  He’ll never make it.

MARK

Yeah, that’s what I told him.  He’ll never get into a good school now.

MRS. WIENER

Oh, he won’t make it.

MR. WIENER

Never make it.

MRS. WIENER

Never.

Brandon is unfairly expelled for drug dealing (a crime he does not commit), and his father’s reaction is to send him to the reformatory.  Instead, Brandon ends the impact character throughline by running away to New York, after first asking Dawn to accompany him.  An offer she cannot accept.

DAWN

Wait—I’m so sorry.

BRANDON

Well, it’s too late.  I’m getting’ outta here.  And who knows, maybe I will deal drugs now.

Dawn takes a trip to New York as well, but unlike Steve and Brandon it is not to make a new start, it is a reaction to her little sister’s kidnapping.  She searches for Missy to bring her desolate family back into balance and hopes it will finally give her the love and acceptance she desperately needs.  The Wieners barely notice her absence:

DAWN

Is mom really upset?

MARK

Not really, actually.  They found Missy this morning.

Todd Solondz’ grand argument against conformity concludes when, unlike Ibsen’s Nora, Dawn doesn’t leave the dollhouse.  She instead takes a school bus to Disneyworld, just one of the Benjamin Franklin “Hummingbirds” numbly singing her junior high school song: “. . . now put on a smile then wipe off that frown . . .”

Solondz revisits New Jersey (“a state of irony”) in his next film, Happiness, which is anything but.  His disturbing depiction of American life (carried over from Welcome to the Dollhouse) stings with caustic humor as it attacks pretension and reveals aberrant behavior behind closed doors.  Happiness is fleeting, illustrated when one sad sack announces: “I am champagne,” then later commits suicide.

Happiness is not a grand argument story.  It is Solondz’ indictment against adults who are egocentric and perversely afflicted.  The characters are loosely related to three sisters, Trish, Helen, and Joy, and not a jot of fun is to be found in this family’s dysfunctions.  Solondz’ denouncement of grown-ups can be inferred from a scene in which Trish’s husband Bill Maplewood, a psychiatrist, allows to his psychiatrist:

BILL

My patients are ugly.  Their problems are trite.  Each one thinks he is unique.  On a professional level they bore me.  On a personal level I have no sympathy.  They deserve what they get.

The relationship between Bill and his eleven-year-old son, Billy, has the makings of a main vs. impact story, but it is not fully developed.  What is certain is an unhappy ending; Bill’s stoic countenance masks his anguish as he admits his pedophilia to the shattered boy.

Solondz does concede a hint of hope for humans and their frailties, indicated in an exchange between Kristina and Allen:

KRISTINA

(while eating her sundae)

Anyway, so then I had to cut up his body, plastic bag all the parts . . . I’ve been throwing it out gradually ever since.  There’s still a little left in my freezer.

ALLEN

So you cut off his . . .

KRISTINA

No.  I left it attached.  I didn’t want to have to touch it again. . . . Can we still be . . . friends?

ALLEN

Um . . . I guess . . . Yeah . . . I mean, we all have our . . . you know . . . pluses and minuses . . .

Happiness is a bold statement that is brave in its subject matter.  Unlike Welcome to the Dollhouse, however, it is not a grand argument that examines the problems from the overall story, main vs. impact story, main character, and impact character points of view.  Without all four of these perspectives it remains just one auteur’s harsh, albeit darkly humorous, opinion.

Works Cited

Solondz, Todd.  Happiness.  Screenplay, 1997.

Solondz, Todd.  “That Lovin’ Feeling.”  With Scott Macaulay.  FILMMAKER 7 1998: 37-39, 104-05.

Welcome to the Dollhouse.  Dir. Todd Solondz.  Screenwriter Todd Solondz. COL, 1995.

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House of Yes & Death on Long Island

by KEM Huntley

Parker Posey Hangs on the Wall of Hové® New Orleans.
The House of Yes and Love and Death on Long Island are two indie presentations that have more than 90210 cast members in common. Without getting too caught up in histrionics and endless details that often attend melodrama, each film offers the same premise: mad love exists.

Each film holds the same expectation, as well. The viewer will not look askance at the “all’s fair in love and war” tactics, but will instead nod their head in affirmation that the heart does what it damn well pleases.

For recent widower and recluse, Giles De’ath (John Hurt), the main character in Love and Death on Long Island, written and directed by Richard Kwientniowski and loosely based upon Thomas Mann’s Death in Venice, the story begins as he ventures into the present day (overall story concern) after accepting (story driver-decision; overall story solution) an invitation to be interviewed on the “wireless.” When asked if he uses a word processor for his novels, he is bemused, tartly replying he is a writer; he does not “process words.”

It is here established that the notable British author is completely out of touch with the 20th century (overall story domain-universe), illustrated again as the camera focuses on him ruefully looking through the front door mail slot at forgotten house keys, his gaze taking in an archaic life.

As Giles is locked out and must wait before his niece is available to bring the extra set of keys, he decides to go to the cinema. He mistakenly walks into a matinee of “Hotpants College II,” instead of the latest E. M. Forster adaptation. Rising to leave (main character symptom-reaction), he is dumbstruck by the beauty of its dreamboat star, impact character Ronnie Bostock (Jason Priestly), a screen heartthrob he will later compare to a painting of the writer Chatterton hanging in the Tate Gallery.

At this point, emphasis in the overall story throughline is placed upon the thematic conflict of attraction vs. repulsion, the clash between obsolescence and technology (overall story benchmark-progress) and high art and popular culture.

Giddy Giles begins the quest his own fictitious characters engage in (main character domain-physics) to learn (main character concern) all about the object of his desire. Hampered by the ministrations of his nosy parker housekeeper, and well-intentioned literary agent (main character problem-protection), he restricts their possible interference (main character approach-do-er) of his foray into “finding beauty where no-one (at least in his milieu) seems to look”: fan magazines, situation comedy, B grade movies.

While mooning over Ronnie, Giles comes to terms with the present (outcome-success). He is compelled to purchase and master the video player and “goggle box,” open an account at the video store (to rent the Ronnie film festival, “Tex Mex” and “Skid Marks”), hook up an answering machine to take messages while cutting and pasting his Ronnie collage, and finally, jetting to Long Island (main character response of proaction), where he will strategize (main character thematic issue) how to meet the actor.

Giles holes up in the roadside motel of Ronnie’s town, run by yet another interfering and overprotective landlady. Inside he scratches out tactics to determine his film idol’s whereabouts: “1. Hire detective 2. Bribe postman” (logical problem solving style), but it is his painstaking investigation (main vs. impact story catalyst) that pays off when he ascertains Ronnie’s exact location and trumps up a relationship with the lovely Audrey, Ronnie’s fiancée (overall story dividend-learning).

Like an infatuated schoolgirl, Giles sits anxiously by the telephone for hours (main vs. impact character inhibitor-need), until the beautiful couple rings up with a dinner invitation. Ronnie represents the emotional manipulation (impact character domain-psychology) of mass media, yet he repudiates (impact character problem-non-acceptance) his teen beat status-despite his photogenic “files of smiles” he wants to be a serious actor (impact character benchmark).

His initial appraisal (main vs. impact character thematic issue) of the old gentleman is based on Giles’ fabrication and the teen’s own conviction that “British stuff is cool,” yet this first impression (appraisal) is his critical flaw. Giles flatters the boy with what he needs (impact character thematic issue) to hear-he has “the look of a young Olivier” and the potential (main vs. impact character story problem) for Shakespeare.

Astute Audrey understands, however, that “something is rotten in the state of Denmark” and arranges (impact character unique ability-permission) to effectively remove Ronnie from Giles’ advances (main character growth-stop).

Giles reacts (main vs. impact character story symptom) to Ronnie’s impending departure by confessing (main vs. impact character response-proaction) his desperate love to the boy in the local hamburger dive. That each has a different point of view (main vs. impact character story domain-mind) is underscored as they face each other from across the vinyl booth. It is clear Giles is as steadfast (main character resolve) in his disdain for the popular arts as he is in his devotion to Ronnie, contemptuously dismissing Ronnie’s adolescent audience and American “contacts” and entreating the actor to fall in with a traditional European relationship of mentor and student, on the order of Rimbaud and Verlaine.

Rattled, Ronnie refuses to consider the offer (overall story consequence-conscious), and the relationship, heretofore certain (main vs. impact character story solution) to flourish is ended. In the erstwhile author’s world, the quest is not a success without sacrifice.

Giles faxes a love letter to Ronnie that includes a revised scene for “Hot Pants College III.” On the way to the airport he inquires of the cabby if faxes can be retrieved. Shaking his head no, the cab driver asks Giles if he would like to return to the motel anyway. Giles knows there is no turning back (story limit-optionlock). With a smile (judgment-good), he slips on the new wave sunglasses-a gift from Ronnie-and waves the driver to continue on (main character solution-inaction).

Ronnie’s change is depicted on-screen in his new film as he delivers Giles’ eulogy to his character’s mother, an indication he will now aspire to something more than performing for the “rabble in the pit.”

In the House of Yes, written and directed by Mark Waters, the overall story concern is how the memory of the day JFK died–the same day Daddy tried to leave:

“Everybody remembers that day. Exactly what they were doing.”

The overall story goal, in particular, is the memory twins, (main vs. impact story domain-universe) Jackie-O (Parker Posey) and Marty (Josh Hamilton), share of their illicit affair that occurred the day they attended an Ides of March party . . . Jackie O costumed as Jacqueline Bouvier Kennedy pirouetting:

“. . . in a pink Chanel suit and pillbox hat and blood on my dress. Well, ketchup actually and other stuff too, like macaroni kind of glued on like brains. It was more tasteful than it sounds.”

Jackie-O is another main character zealous (do-er) in her efforts (main character domain-physics) to fulfill desires (main character problem). When impact character Marty, comes home to Washington D.C. Thanksgiving 1982-“20 years after the Kennedy assassination”-and announces (story driver-action) his engagement to Lesly (Tori Spelling), he has sealed his fate (main vs. impact character issue).

The circumstances (main vs. impact character domain-universe) of the twins’ relationship are such that any plan for a normal life Marty attempts to implement (impact character concern-conceptualizing) is anarchy (main vs. impact character problem-chaos).
Marriage is an act the unhinged Jackie-O will steadfastly (main character resolve) not allow.

Mama (Genevieve Bujold), very French Gothic, demands a private word with her son: Mama: You, a fiancée here, why?
Marty: I love her and I’m just trying to follow procedure (impact character symptom-order).
Mama: Marty, your sister has been out of the hospital less than six months. Last week she nearly lost it because the seltzer water was flat and you bring a woman home! Not just a woman, a fiancée! An anti-Jackie! Are you trying to push your sister over the edge?Marty: No.
Mama: Just what, then, are you trying to do?
Marty: Be normal.

Family secrets and lies (overall story thematic counterpoint-falsehood), exposed or withheld, are the weapons used against artless Lesly, the fiancée who smells like powdered sugar. The family knows (overall story symptom) Marty is making a mistake. Marty had loved a lizard; Jackie-O flushed it down the toilet.

Lesly’s perception overall story problem) of Marty’s glamorous twin is mistaken-she calls Jackie-O spoiled to which Jackie-O replies-“Oh please. If people start telling the truth (overall story thematic issue) around here, I’m going to bed.” What Lesly doesn’t consider (overall story benchmark-conscious), until almost too late, is that Jackie-O is insane (overall story solution-actuality) and extravagantly dangerous.

An unexpected hurricane extinguishes the electrical power and all but Marty and Jackie-O retire for the evening. By candlelight, the twins play their favorite game, the reenactment of Jack Kennedy’s assassination. This leads to a reenactment of their own affaire d’ amour, unaware Lesly is watching. Crushed, Lesly allows the twins’ younger brother, Anthony (Freddie Prinze, Jr.), to make love to her, unaware Mama is watching.

Confronting the naïf with what she knows (overall story symptom): “A mother doesn’t spy, a mother pays attention!”-she thinks (overall story response) Lesly will now leave alone. Instead, Lesly persuades Marty to believe the man she fell in love with is the man he truly is (impact character thematic issue of state of being), not the image he has of himself (impact character thematic counterpoint-sense of self). She implores Marty to return with her to New York.

Destiny (main vs. impact character catalyst), however, prevails. Jackie-O cajoles her brother into one more dead Kennedy charade, with the promise he may leave afterwards. He foolishly does not suspect (impact character critical flaw) she may fire the pistol they have used to pretend, despite the fact Jackie-O has shot him in the past (main vs. impact character concern). Marty is gunned down, and buried in the back yard next to his father-the romantic memory of gallant men: Jack, Daddy, and Marty, preserved intact (outcome-success).

In voice-over, Jackie-O reassures us: “Don’t worry about Marty. A close family like ours has to stick together. We cleared out a nice place for him out back, next to Daddy so he would stay right here with me, where he belongs (story judgment-good).

Love and Death on Long Island and the House of Yes approach obsessive, irrational love with humor and compassion for its main characters, and a distant nod to their impact characters. Emphasis in each is placed upon the main vs. impact story, almost to the exclusion of the overall story throughline, much like lovers heedless to the world around them.
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All Who Wander Are Not Lost

by Kerrin Ross Monahan


 		  
 “All who wander are not lost.”—Tolkien

“Everything comes from somewhere.”—Rushdie

The way to avoid tragedy is to cultivate a sense of it” (Robert D. Kaplan). Aidan Chamber has said that the classic definition of story is: “What happens to whom, and why,” and since, as he reminds us, “story is everywhere,” we need to look everywhere in order to find exactly what it is we should be searching for.

We should start with oral tradition, with what Seamus Heaney calls: “the directness of utterance” by the skalds, bards, jongleurs, troubadours (and Rushdie’s the “Shah of Blah”), and from there progress through the arts up to the present.

A quest is a search or pursuit made in order to find or obtain something. There is a testing of some importance and obstacles to overcome. The goal or prize could be: The Holy Grail, hidden treasure, a castle or kingdom or fair maiden. It could well be something intangible such as: salvation, redemption, revenge, justice, peace, truth, glory, courage, strength, wisdom, faith, love, or hope. Sometimes one isn’t certain what it is that she/he seeks. Some fail, others do reach their goal.

The quest occurs in all types of literature, music, and historic events the world over, and all forms reflect the historical and cultural base in which they are embedded. There is a universality, however, a basic humanism about them all—a transcending core that resonates with everyone.

The quest can take the form of a grand and sweeping heroic epic, can appear in a short poem, a long narrative, an interior monologue, a small gem of a fable, a “pourquoi” story, a nursery rhyme. It can be found in certain films, music, plays, opera, novels, and rock songs. It can take the form of a chivalric romance, fairytale, folktale, mythology, legend, or nationalistic or religious saga. It can be emotionally heavy, or light and airy, and may contain both elements of tragedy and comedy. (Barzun points out that the word “tragedy” means “goat song” and in the Renaissance the word “comedy” meant any sort of play—drama in general.) He also states that the epic, thought of as a serious genre, is “often close to burlesque.”

The quest can be in the form of a cautionary tale, allegory, rules of conduct, a coming-of-age work or nationalistic propaganda. It can be gorgeous and soaring in tone, and heartwarming, whimsical, and quaint, or raw, ugly, and petty—but always passionate and always magic. It can entertain (hopefully, always), anger and disturb, instruct and uplift, enchant and inspire: one should come away thinking, analyzing, considering and questioning—and be receptive to and expressive about the core meaning of each story.

In each instance the characters could be any of the following: druids, oracles, pookas, banshees, piskies, kelpies, leprechauns, trolls, elves, menehunes, water sprites, Baba Yagas, dwarves, goblins, vampires, werewolves, ghosts, wizards, nissers, sorcerers, ogres, mummies, monsters, fairies, witches, queens, gremlins, brownies, golems, giants, genies, Black and Tans, angels, kings, dragons, devils, talking animals, and of course, larger-than-life heroic warriors (both male and female), their evil human counterparts, and naturally, a large cast of “common folk” such as farmers, innkeepers, “hoors,” hobbits, beggars, and children.

Props include: ancient books and parchments, thunder and fire, magic swords, cloaks, wooden legs, riddles and runes, shoes and lamps, talking cats, flying horses, snakes and toads, secret doorways and curses, spells, passwords, boats, bikes, rafts, umbrellas, whales, Cadillacs and taxis, dreams, visions, portents and nightmares, poisons and elixirs, trees and burning bushes, vast quantities of beer, wine, mead, and weed, and of course, gold rings.

Because, on the whole, we in this country have been exposed to mostly Western Canon, some may not be aware that there is a plenitude of much admired, and many revered, works of all genres that come from a global cultural base. Much of Western art, in fact, is based upon, or drawn from, ancient worldwide customs and lore.

The following is not meant by any means to be all-inclusive; the selections are certainly subjective. If they are top heavy with works from Great Britain, it is because (until fairly recently), our nation’s literary canon has derived mainly from and has glorified our “motherland’s” literature.

I Western

Great Britain and Ireland

The Cuchulain Cycle, The Finn Cycle, (Fin M’Coul), two pre-Christian Celtic epics: The Hound of Ulster and Queen Mab. Beowulf: Anglo Saxon epic Christian poem composed sometime between 650 ad and 900 AD. Seamus Heaney, Irish Nobel Laureate Poet, renders a brilliant translation. King Arthur, Knights of the Round Table, Merlin, The Holy Grail, and Robin Hood. Sir Gawain and the Green Knight (author unknown). The Crusades, St. George and the Dragon, William Langland’s Piers Plowman, Chaucer’s The Canterbury Tales, the Welsh White Book of Rchydderch, Sir Thomas Mallory’s Le Morte d’ Arthur. Morality plays and mystery plays for example, Everyman, dramatized allegories of Christian life: a quest for salvation.

Edmund Spenser’s The Faerie Queene, Shakespeare’s English and Roman histories, tragedies and tragic-comedies. He was extremely knowledgeable about the volatile social and political issues of his day: the escalating patriotism and nationalism, the new colonialism, and concerns about the royal succession. A.L. Rowse tells us that he (Shakespeare) “. . . knew too well how thin is the crust of civilisation; how easy for society to break down, to fall into what dark waters beneath.” In these works, Shakespeare’s quest is for order and obedience to authority.

Milton’s Paradise Lost, John Bunyan’s The Pilgrim’s Progress, Jonathan Swift’s Gulliver’s Travels, Defoe’s Robinson Crusoe and Moll Flanders, Richardson’s Clarissa, Fielding’s Tom Jones, Edward Fitzgerald’s (translation) The Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyam, Wordsworth’s The Prelude, Coleridge’s The Rime of the Ancient Mariner and Kubla Khan, Blake’s The Four Zoas and Jerusalem, Shelley’s Prometheus Unbound, Keat’s Hyperion, The Eve of St. Agnes and La Belle Dame Sans Merci, Byron’s Childe Harold, Sir Walter Scott’s historical novels and ballads, Dicken’s Bleak House, David Copperfield, Great Expectations and A Tale of Two Cities, Robert Browning’s Childe Roland to the Dark Tower Came, Tennyson’s Ulysses and Idylls of the King, Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland, Stevenson’s Treasure Island, Kipling’s Just So Stories, Sir James Barrie’s Peter Pan, Hugh Lofting’s Dr. Doolittle, Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness, Kenneth Grahame’s The Wind in the Willows, A.A. Milne’s Winnie the Pooh, P.L. Travers’ Mary Poppins, Beatrix Potter’s Peter Rabbit, James Joyce’s Ulysses, Yeats’ Fairy Tales of Ireland, T.S. Eliot’s The Wasteland, Tolkien’s The Hobbit and The Ring Trilogy, C.S. Lewis’ The Chronicles of Narnia, Roddy Doyle’s A Star Called Henry, J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter series

North America

Highwater’s Anpao (the Native American Ulysses) The Sedna Legends of the Inuits, Paul Bunyan’s tall tales, the tales of Pecos Bill the Cowboy, Melville’s Moby Dick, Twain’s Huckleberry Finn, Joel Chandler Harris’ Uncle Remus Stories (a retelling of stories brought from overseas by African slaves), L. Frank Baum’s The Wizard of Oz, Hemingway’s The Sun Also Rises, Ralph Ellison’s The Invisible Man, the Russian born Nabokov’s Lolita, Steven Spielberg’s E.T., and, with George Lucas, the Indiana Jones sagas and Star Wars series.

French Canada
The Adventures of Petit Jean

Mexico/South America
Why the Burro Lives With Man, The Tale of the Lazy People and many legends and myths from the Incas and Aztecs and Mayan civilizations

Greece
Homer’s The Iliad, The Odyssey, Aesop’s Fables

Italy
The Roman poet Virgil’s The Aëneid, the poet Dante’s The Inferno, the poet Tasso’s Jerusalem Delivered

Spain
El Cid (the epic poem El Cantar de Mio Cid), Cervante’s Don Quixote

Portugal
Comoën’s The Lusiads

France
The deeds of Charlemagne, Le Chanson de Roland, Jean de Neun’s Roman de la Rose, La Fontaine’s Fables, Perrault’s folktales (Cinderella), Villanueva’s Beauty and the Beast, Dumas’ The Count of Monte Cristo, Saint Exupéry’s Le Petit Prince, de Brunhoff’s Stories of Babar

Germany
The Nibelungen Saga (heroic sagas), the tales of the Brothers Grimm, Richard Wagner’s Opera Cycle: The Ring of the Neibelung

Norway/Sweden/Denmark
The great sagas involving Valhalla and the gods Thor, Odin, Freya, and Loke; Hans Christian Andersen’s tales

Iceland

The Elder Edda, The Younger Edda (ancient manuscripts), from these comes The Volsunga Saga

Finland

The saga The Kalevala

Russia

The Legend of the Firebird, Pushkin’s fairy tales, Vasilissa the Fair

II Middle East

The sacred texts: The Holy Bible, The Torah, The Talmud, The Koran. Firdavsi’s Shah (collection of legendary Persian epic folktales), the splendid Arabian Nights, the Islamic legend The Night Journey (Mohammed’s Night Ride to Heaven) Nobel Laureate Isaac B. Singer’s Zlateh the Goat and Other Stories

III India

The Fables of Bidpai, The Jatake Tales of Buddha, the cycle of fables in the Hindu collection of the Panchatantha, Vyasa’s Mahabharata, Valmiki’s Ranayana, Salman Rushdie’s Shame and Haroun and the Sea of Stories

IV Africa

Tribal tales of witchdoctors and brave warriors, folktales like Anansi the Spider, Podhu and Aruwa, Unanana and the Elephant

IV Far East

Japan
Great shogun and samurai exploits, folktales such as The Tongue-Cut Sparrow, The Enchanted Sticks

China
Fantastic tales of empresses and peasants, warlords and courtiers. Folktales like Ah Tcha the Sleeper, The Story of Wang Li

V Oceania (Australia)

The wonderful Aboriginal “dream-time” experiences and folktales such as Dinewan the Emu

Polynesia
Many fantasy tales of how their islands were fashioned; from Hawaii we get the myth: How Kana Brought Back the Sun and Moon and Stars. To quote Heaney, all of the foregoing are universal stories of “mythic potency.”

To return to the main question: What should we be looking for, and why? Tolkien said: “Myth is invention about truth.” Joseph Campbell states that the hero’s journey is about “overcoming the dark passions . . . to control the irrational savage within us,” and that “the journey is a life lived in self-discovery . . . the ultimate aim of the quest must be . . . the wisdom and the power to serve others.” The hero acts “to redeem society.” Dostoyevsky said: “Man is a mystery.” The author was “an investigator of the human spirit” always searching for truth. In Richard Tarnas’ preface to his grand The Passion of the Western Mind (and this could certainly apply to the rich and varied canon of world literature as well), he states: “The history of Western culture has long seemed to possess the dynamics, scope, and beauty of a great epic drama . . . [containing] sweep and grandeur, dramatic conflicts and astonishing resolutions . . . a stirring adventure and epic heroism . . .” He also talks about: “A common vision . . . to see clarifying universals in the chaos of life . . . the attempt to comprehend the nature of reality.” Bruno Bettelheim says that through fables and fairy tales we can find ways “to gain peace within ourselves and with the world . . .” In a new volume of Yeat’s essays, Writings on Irish Folklore, Legend and Myth he tells us that in fables, “mortals are transformed into ‘perfect symbols of the sorrow and beauty and of the magnificence and penury of dreams.'” Harold Bloom feels: “We read to find ourselves . . .[to gain] an enhanced sense of freedom . . . to prepare ourselves for change and the final change, alas is universal.”

Certainly there are skeptics among us: the poet W. H. Auden said: “poetry makes nothing happen” and Jack Kerouac’s On the Road narrator (“the road is life”) says “. . . nobody, nobody knows what’s going to happen to anybody besides the forlorn rags of growing old . . .” And U2’s Bono laments “. . . and I still haven’t found what I’m looking for.” To all that, Tolkien’s Gandalf could well answer: “All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.”

During the rest of our lifequest we must: read, write, travel, attend plays, opera, museums and films, watch television and sporting events, listen to music, political debates, talk shows, gossip, and propaganda. We must sing and dance and work and love, all so that we may connect in some positive and meaningful way with our ancestors, peers, and children, thus hopefully discovering our higher selves. By doing so, when our grand quest comes to the inevitable and unavoidable end, we will be able to leave behind a brilliant, universal ensemble cast with a balanced and harmonious script full of recurring motifs such as unity and integration, a magnificent work, a gift of love and peace to our vast audience—all of humankind’s descendants.

“The world is sacred,
It can’t be improved.
If you tamper with it, you’ll ruin it.
If your treat it like an object, you’ll lose it.”—Lao-tzu

Bibliography

Barzun, Jacques. From Dawn to Decadence. New York: HarperCollins, 2000.
Bettelheim, Bruno. The Uses of Enchantment. New York: Simon, 2000.
Bloom, Harold. How to Read and Why. New York: Simon, 2000.
Campbell, Joseph. The Power of Myth. New York: Doubleday, 1988.
Chamber, Aidan. Introducing Books to Children. 2nd ed. Horn, 1983.
Doyle, Roddy. A Star Called Henry. New York: Penguin, 2000.
Heaney, Seamus. Beowulf. New York: Norton, 2000.
Kerouac, Jack. On the Road. New York: Viking, 1957.
Lao-tzu. Tao Te Ching. Trans. Stephen Mitchell. New York: Harper, 1988.
Maxym, Lucy. Russian Lacquer, Legends and Fairy Tales. 2 vols. New York: Siamese Imports, 1985-86.
Norton Anthology of English Literature. Ed. M.H. Abrams. 5th ed. 2 vols. New York: Norton, 1986.
Oxford Companion to the English Language. Ed. Tom McArthur. Oxford: Oxford UP, 1992.
Porcaro, Lauren. “Book Currents”: rev. of Writings on Irish Folklore, Legend and Myth by William Butler Yeats, New Yorker 1, Apr. 2002: 21.
Riverside Anthology of Children’s Literature. Judith Saltman. 6th ed. Boston: Houghton, 1985.
Rowse, A.L. The Annotated Shakespeare. Vols I and II. New York: Clarkson, 1978.
Rushdie, Salman. Haroun and the Sea of Stories. New York: Viking, 1990.
Tarnas, Richard. The Passion of the Western Mind. New York: Ballantine, 1993.
Tolkien, J.R.R. The Hobbit. New York: Ballantine, 1967.
Tolkien, J.R.R. The Ring Trilogy. New York: Ballantine, 1982.
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The Butcher Boy

by KEM Huntley

In a Dramatica grand argument story, it is the influence character that has the most impact on the main character. The influence character, wittingly or unwittingly, will compel the main character to remain steadfast to their particular paradigm or change to the influence character’s point of view.

Typically, the influence character is one person or single entity. In the case of Neil Jordan’s The Butcher Boy, and Stanley Kubrick’s A Clockwork Orange, the influence character is the society in which the main character functions.

The Butcher Boy, an adaptation of Pat McCabe’s novel, is a brutal account of one boy’s moral destruction set against the “duck and cover” environment of fear that emanated from communism, specifically the 1962 Cuban Missile Crisis. Precocious and full of Gaelic charm, “The Incredible Francis Brady” (main character) is an ebullient twelve-year-old with a wide Irish eyes smile and an unfortunate set of parents-a beautiful and suicidal mother, and a father who ” . . . was the best drinker in the town.” Francie sets up the story with a voice-over narration: “When I was a young lad . . . I lived in a small town where they were all after me on account of what I’d done [to] Mrs. Nugent.”

What follows is a cinematic treatise on the making of a psychopath.

Francis steals apples from Mrs. Nugent’s tree and extorts Green Lantern comics from her bespectacled son, Philip. Mrs. Nugent tells his mother exactly what she thinks of the Bradys: “Pigs!” igniting a feud (story driver-action) between the boy and neighbor that erupts in unholy carnage. During the course of the story, Francie’s pranks evolve from the malicious to the unconscionably vicious. He is sent to a reform school where he easily manipulates his release, a mental institution where he escapes, and even fools his parish priest who exhorts the townspeople to ” . . . pray for the redemption of Francis Brady . . .” Each personal tragedy, most notably the death of his mother and perceived betrayal of best friend Joe Purcell, exacerbates the sins he commits against Mrs. Nugent and the small community. Finally, the town’s authorities ” . . . put Francie Brady in the ‘garage’ for bad bastards.” (ic resolve-change)

Like anti-hero Alex in A Clockwork Orange, none of Francie’s actions are excusable, but there is a margin for understanding. In one of the film’s most poignant moments, Francie lists his losses on the steamed up kitchen window with his finger-unaware his abandoned soul is the most tragic loss of all.