Just as I Expected... A Narrative Grievance

(originally published on 27 April, 2017)

This is going to be a bit of an odd ramble, but it’s a topic that keeps coming up at odd tangents, so I’m going to see if I can’t put my thoughts into words, and it all starts with a simple question: “Why are so many stories so fucking shitty?”

Needless to say, I have an answer (I wouldn’t be a terribly good smartarse if I didn’t). It’s not THE answer, but it’s one I’ve been tossing back and forth across my branemeats for awhile now, and I’d like to throw it open. 

It all began, way, way back in the distant past, when I was posting on a message board called Comic Book Resources. In this dim days, one of the boards they had was called CBR Rumbles, where nerds would engage in that most noble of sports, deciding who would win in a fight between fictional characters. At one point, comics writer Kurt Busiek weighed in. He’s an excellent fellow (his ‘Astro City’ comics series is great! You should check it out!). What he does, he explained, is different to what the Rumblers do. In a ‘Rumble’, who will win is the end goal, but in a story, it’s a means to an end. The end, in this case, being telling a satisfying, well-executed story. For instance, in a Rumble between Captain America and Thor, Thor should win. But in a story, who ‘should’ win is based not on stats and power levels, but on which outcome makes for the better story. 

It is, Busiek concluded, the role of the creator to put forth a reason that Captain America can win a fight against Thor if that makes for the more entertaining story. Of course, as your Rumbles Board devotee will point out, such an outcome is very unlikely given the various factors involved. And that’s where creativity comes in. It is a storyteller’s job to make sure that the outcome, as with all the various other elements of the story, comes together in a way that’s believable, satisfying and enjoyable. It’s a damned difficult job which is why, after all, we esteem people we consider good storytellers so highly. This is important.

Jump ahead, and I’m in the cinema, watching ‘Indiana Jones and the Crystal Skull’. A lot of people have a lot of scorn for this movie, whether it’s fridges or aliens or Shia LeBoeuf, but for me, the breaking point was a waterfall. It’s a pretty standard set up. Indy and the others are on a boat hurtling down a torrential tropical river when up ahead comes the unmistakable roar of a Waterfall! Drama! Excitement! This is the meat and potatoes of this kind of film. At this point, excitement is building. How will the heroes get out of this? What ingenious and unlikely, but thrilling, way will Indy figure out to save everyone? And the answer is... nothing. He doesn’t. The boat goes over the edge and splashes into the pool below. There’s a kind of give-and-take in storytelling. If a storyteller throws a waterfall at me, I’m prepared to invest in it. It’s dangerous and exciting. I’m with them there, and I trust that they’ve got something up their sleeve... but in this case, nothing. And then they do it again. And they expect that, even after they’ve pretty much told me “Waterfalls Are Shit”, that I’m going to trust them again... and again, nothing. After a third waterfall, I’m beginning to feel insulted. Oh sure, everyone looks vaguely frightened and people are yelling stuff like “Hang on!” and shaking back and forth... but by this stage it’s not Indiana Jones, it’s “The Indiana Jones Log Ride”(TM). As I said above “It is a storyteller’s job to make sure that the outcome, as with all the various other elements of the story, comes together in a way that’s believable, satisfying and enjoyable”. In the waterfall sequence, there was no creativity involved. The boat went up to the waterfall. It went over the waterfall. Cause. Effect. The sequence was in the film, so someone thought it was important to the story, but it did nothing to enhance the story, and undermined pretty much everything else in the film. Because if I’ve been told once that my investment in a story is going to be wasted, I’ll be less likely to give that story a second chance.

Jump ahead again, and that sense of narrative ennui I felt as the boat bobbed up, unharmed after falling off the waterfall is hitting me again and again. I read and watch a lot of stories, and more and more, I’m seeing that same cause and effect. Sometimes, it someone just following a formula without variation. Sometimes, it’s an expected event having an expected outcome. Sometimes it’s deja vu. But in every case, it’s a storyteller looking at a situation and choosing the easy response, or the obvious response, or the ‘safe’ response, or the response which gets us to the next plot checkpoint by the most direct route so we can check it off and move ahead to the next one.

And yeah I KNOW it’s hard. Storytelling is fucking hard. That’s why most people aren’t storytellers for a living. It’s hard work. But if you’re a storyteller For A Living, then you can’t just give us ‘safe’ or ‘obvious’ or ‘easy’. You have to show us why You’re the storyteller and We’re the audience. Wow us. Surprise us. Shock us. Make us think. Piss us off, if you have to. And yeah, some audiences can be fucking pricks. That’s another part of why being a storyteller is hard. But for those of us who LOVE stories, we’ll trust you. We’ll believe you. We’ll be right there with you. We want this to blow our socks clean the hell off. Don’t let us down.