Please don't misunderstand me: returning to the status quo is not always a bad decision. There are episodic shows that naturally return to the status quo; for example, Star Trek: TNG was an excellent show (probably made even more excellent in my memory since it was a family event while I was growing up) that always returned the status quo without becoming boring. Two factors helped it maintain this routine: first, an excuse. The Enterprise was a ship, constantly roving. The plot of each episode had to be resolved in a neat and tidy fashion, at least as far as the main characters were concerned, because next week those same main characters would be somewhere else. A good excuse like this spares the writers from any status quo-inducing measures that strain our suspension of disbelief. The traveling starship of Star Trek and Firefly isn't the only good excuse out there, either; several good speculative shows I can think of (Eureka, Warehouse 13, Moonlight, etc.) rely on the crime-show standby of "cases" to be solved. The second factor that helps a status quo show to remain dynamic is the proxy effect -- the fact that the show's guests, the inhabitants of this week's planet or the suspects in this week's case, do experience substantial, life-altering change. A war is averted, a culture is saved, a victim is protected or avenged; in other words, something BIG and emotional happens, even though the main characters go back to their lives unchanged. It's not my favorite plot structure, but there's no denying that it works.
On the other end of the spectrum, we've had a recent spate of shows that have no status quo. Syfy's Battlestar Galactica was all arc; the status of the fleet, and the situations of the individual characters, was constantly changing. Lost also had no resting place, although it used some awe-inspiring innovations to accomplish this. Whenever the characters experienced a lull on the island, the flash-backs provided a story of transformation to maintain a sense of forward motion. (Take, for example, last season's episode in which the characters made little progress on the island, but we witnessed Richard's life story). I happened to love this kind of show, perhaps because the structure more closely resembles that of a novel, or perhaps just because I glory in complications and am a sucker for romance (so, I like for people to actually get together). My all time favorite show, however, falls into the most common middle category.
Most shows lie in the challenging area between these two extremes. The writers want things to change, but not too fast, so they must delay, delay, delay. Joss Whedon set the standard for this type of writing with Buffy the Vampire Slayer. The show had episodic tendencies, but against the backdrop of monster-of-the-week plots, Whedon and his team wrote stories that involved real, lasting, character growth. Willow went from sweet to evil to grown-up; Spike earned a soul; Buffy went through more changes than I can list, longing for normalcy at first, finding reasons to live after being dead, and becoming more and more isolated in the final season. Relationships between the characters on the show began, developed, and ended (Xander and Anya). Whedon wasn't afraid to absent (Oz, Angel, etc.) or kill (Joyce, Tara) main characters, heightening the sense of danger. The key to Whedon's victory over the status quo was the way the characters were allowed to react to their wonderful and horrible adventures like actual people who are changed by their experiences. Add to that witty dialogue, a perfect blend of comedy, melodrama, and fantasy, and great acting, and you get my favorite show.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Merlin: Early signs of status quo disease?
(written after the third, most recent season)
Merlin has begun showing signs of status quo disease. In case you are not familiar with that particular TV malady, it is the delusion that all elements of a TV show must return to the status quo by the end of the episode, and that the writers are justified in going to increasingly ridiculous lengths to secure such an ending. Victims of the full-blown syndrome are unable to experience any true character growth, form any new relationships, or make any progress towards long-term goals.
At first glance, Merlin seems to be escaping this fate, because the character Morgana has changed, finally picking a side in Uther's ongoing battle against magic users and leaving Camelot with Morgause. The fact that Morgana picked the "other" side, the side of the morally ambiguous freedom fighters / terrorists bodes well for future conflict.
No, the signs of stagnation lie elsewhere, in Merlin's struggle to keep his magic a secret. Keeping a secret, and keeping it and keeping it, for three seasons running, is not a trope that lends itself to interesting character interaction, since by definition the characters are not talking about it. And the horrors of repetitiveness that must be perpetrated to keep the secret safe! At the end of every episode, Arthur must be knocked unconscious so that Merlin can perform magic and save the day. It's a wonder Arthur can see straight, he has taken so many blows to the head. The predictability of this bit is such that a viewer ends up thinking that Arthur has been felled not by a dragon or stone monster or wizard, but by a plot device. And no, varying the plot by making him pass out from illness does not alleviate this problem.
Think instead how interesting it would be if someone discovered Merlin's secret. My vote goes to Arthur: he would be deliciously torn between his father and Merlin, ridden with feelings of guilt and disloyalty, and forced to reevaluate his attitude towards Merlin. We call those kinds of conflicts *drama*.
Merlin has begun showing signs of status quo disease. In case you are not familiar with that particular TV malady, it is the delusion that all elements of a TV show must return to the status quo by the end of the episode, and that the writers are justified in going to increasingly ridiculous lengths to secure such an ending. Victims of the full-blown syndrome are unable to experience any true character growth, form any new relationships, or make any progress towards long-term goals.
At first glance, Merlin seems to be escaping this fate, because the character Morgana has changed, finally picking a side in Uther's ongoing battle against magic users and leaving Camelot with Morgause. The fact that Morgana picked the "other" side, the side of the morally ambiguous freedom fighters / terrorists bodes well for future conflict.
No, the signs of stagnation lie elsewhere, in Merlin's struggle to keep his magic a secret. Keeping a secret, and keeping it and keeping it, for three seasons running, is not a trope that lends itself to interesting character interaction, since by definition the characters are not talking about it. And the horrors of repetitiveness that must be perpetrated to keep the secret safe! At the end of every episode, Arthur must be knocked unconscious so that Merlin can perform magic and save the day. It's a wonder Arthur can see straight, he has taken so many blows to the head. The predictability of this bit is such that a viewer ends up thinking that Arthur has been felled not by a dragon or stone monster or wizard, but by a plot device. And no, varying the plot by making him pass out from illness does not alleviate this problem.
Think instead how interesting it would be if someone discovered Merlin's secret. My vote goes to Arthur: he would be deliciously torn between his father and Merlin, ridden with feelings of guilt and disloyalty, and forced to reevaluate his attitude towards Merlin. We call those kinds of conflicts *drama*.
Why Merlin Works
(written after the end of the second season)
My husband, swayed by his love of the BBC series “Merlin” (the first season of which just closed on NBC), recently made the mistake of renting the Sam Neil “Merlin” from the 1980's. I made it only two thirds of the way through that morass of a miniseries before it became unbearable, but it did drive home the brilliance of the new "Merlin" as reimagined by the BBC. The problem with the 1980's “Merlin” is that it was about the Arthurian legends--all them, actually, one dreary event after the other. The best Arthurian literature has always been about something else.
T.H. White's “The Once and Future King,” the first introduction to the Arthurian legends for many of us, is of course about good government versus bad. Thanks to Merlin's magic, the young Arthur visits feudal fish, fascist ants, pacifist geese, and other political animals, and then tries to apply these lessons to Camelot. The questions raised by these magical journeys were vital, necessary questions for those like White who saw the rise of the Nazis and lived through World War II . In contrast, Malory's “Le Morte D'Arthur,” the source of much of White's plot, is about the problems of the dying chivalric code of the 1400's, while the twelfth century works of Chretien de Troyes (one of Malory's sources), are primarily concerned with the nature of courtly love. The point is, all of these seminal works use the story of Camelot to comment on their own times.
The new, twenty-first century “Merlin” is about the ideal of tolerance and the horror of terrorism, and all the gray areas created when they collide. The reigning king, Uther, is a tyrant who fears and hates magic; Merlin is a member of a persecuted minority. The “nice” characters--Morgana, Gwen, Merlin, and increasingly, Arthur--suspect Uther of being a bloodthirsty fanatic. He is, after all, willing to kill children in his zeal to wipe out magic. Clearly Merlin is a good guy, and Uther would be wrong to kill him. Yet most of the witches who attack Camelot are terrorists, willing to poison an entire city of innocents as revenge against the king. Is Uther evil? Does he deserve to die? Do we really think every man, woman, and child killed by our bombs was a member of Al Queda? Has fighting terrorism made *us* fanatics?
You see my point.
I don't want to suggest to any of you who haven't seen the show that BBC's “Merlin” is some sort of dry philosophical treatise. On the contrary, “Merlin” is full of sword fights and CGI monsters, snappy dialogue (especially when Merlin and Arthur squabble), and loads of that who-likes-who unresolved sexual tension that makes for such good TV. It's well-acted, and watching it is a light, fun adventure.
Like all the best Arthurian retellings, “Merlin” manages to do *both* at the same time: to be escapist and allegorical, exciting and profound. That's why I love it. That's why it works.
My husband, swayed by his love of the BBC series “Merlin” (the first season of which just closed on NBC), recently made the mistake of renting the Sam Neil “Merlin” from the 1980's. I made it only two thirds of the way through that morass of a miniseries before it became unbearable, but it did drive home the brilliance of the new "Merlin" as reimagined by the BBC. The problem with the 1980's “Merlin” is that it was about the Arthurian legends--all them, actually, one dreary event after the other. The best Arthurian literature has always been about something else.
T.H. White's “The Once and Future King,” the first introduction to the Arthurian legends for many of us, is of course about good government versus bad. Thanks to Merlin's magic, the young Arthur visits feudal fish, fascist ants, pacifist geese, and other political animals, and then tries to apply these lessons to Camelot. The questions raised by these magical journeys were vital, necessary questions for those like White who saw the rise of the Nazis and lived through World War II . In contrast, Malory's “Le Morte D'Arthur,” the source of much of White's plot, is about the problems of the dying chivalric code of the 1400's, while the twelfth century works of Chretien de Troyes (one of Malory's sources), are primarily concerned with the nature of courtly love. The point is, all of these seminal works use the story of Camelot to comment on their own times.
The new, twenty-first century “Merlin” is about the ideal of tolerance and the horror of terrorism, and all the gray areas created when they collide. The reigning king, Uther, is a tyrant who fears and hates magic; Merlin is a member of a persecuted minority. The “nice” characters--Morgana, Gwen, Merlin, and increasingly, Arthur--suspect Uther of being a bloodthirsty fanatic. He is, after all, willing to kill children in his zeal to wipe out magic. Clearly Merlin is a good guy, and Uther would be wrong to kill him. Yet most of the witches who attack Camelot are terrorists, willing to poison an entire city of innocents as revenge against the king. Is Uther evil? Does he deserve to die? Do we really think every man, woman, and child killed by our bombs was a member of Al Queda? Has fighting terrorism made *us* fanatics?
You see my point.
I don't want to suggest to any of you who haven't seen the show that BBC's “Merlin” is some sort of dry philosophical treatise. On the contrary, “Merlin” is full of sword fights and CGI monsters, snappy dialogue (especially when Merlin and Arthur squabble), and loads of that who-likes-who unresolved sexual tension that makes for such good TV. It's well-acted, and watching it is a light, fun adventure.
Like all the best Arthurian retellings, “Merlin” manages to do *both* at the same time: to be escapist and allegorical, exciting and profound. That's why I love it. That's why it works.
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