Each Character Type has unique flaws that can drag them down, and can be overcome to create a satisfying story – Protagonist has a problem, their traits make things more difficult, they overcome those character traits to resolve their conflict, etc.

But what if your character tries to redeem themselves and fails so many times in ways that are harmful to others, that they can never truly be redeemed? To examine this, we’ll be looking at the Netflix adult animation Bojack Horseman. Be advised that MAJOR SPOILERS follow for all four seasons of the show.

Bojack Horseman (voiced by Will Arnett) is Power of Ambition, but the front that he puts on is so typically Power of Excitement that it is initially hard to determine which type he is. His party-loving ways seem like Power of Excitement behaviour, but deep down all his wants is to be liked, and to be successful again.

Bojack is a washed-up actor famed for his role on a network family sitcom back in the 90’s. Now he just drinks and makes the lives of those around him- agent Princess Carolyn (Amy Sedaris), rival Mister Peanutbutter (Paul F. Tompkins), roommate Todd (Aaron Paul) and biographer Diane Nguyen (Alison Brie)- a living hell. Bojack is aware of his deep insecurities and reckless behaviour and manages to ruin the constant shots at redemption that come his way.

Many characters that seem irredeemable never actually try to fix themselves. But Bojack has attempted on multiple occasions to get his life back on track, even abandon Hollywood and live a quiet life, but every time he tries this it ends in disaster and he returns to his miserable bachelor pad near the Hollywood sign.

Most notably he tries to seduce the underage daughter on a woman he once loved, and in a later season, he upsets a man who fixes up Bojack’s decrepit country house while mourning the death of his wife. Even his shots at rehabilitation and growth end in disaster. At some point, an audience must realise that no matter what, a character will never truly change.

Bojack discovers he has a sister, a young woman in his life that he has neglected up until that revelation. It seems like he has found someone to care for, and who may be a positive influence on him, but the viewer is left knowing that inevitably Bojack will destroy the relationship in some unforgivable way.

There are only so many times he can get himself clean of drugs and alcohol, and claim to be thinking of anyone but himself. He is a self-loathing narcissist who may experience profound revelations but never acts on them, and likely never will.

I cannot think of another show willing to show a character is such a self-destructive cycle, especially because the rug is always pulled from underneath our feet. Bojack may never change, but even though he tries- and effort should be commended- he is arguably worse than those that never try.

They may have a shot at redemption, but unwillingness holds them back. Bojack is willing to try, but he is his own worst enemy, and perhaps is truly irredeemable. I’d like to see more writers taking such a risk with their characters, especially ones as amusing as Bojack Horseman.

What’s up, Doc? A Power of Excitement character, that’s what! This week I’m talking about everyone’s favorite wascally wabbit, Bugs Bunny of Warner Bros. Looney Tunes fame.

I had the great good fortune to work with the remaining animators of “Termite Terrace” fame, including Chuck Jones.  I interviewed these amazing artists (somewhere I still have those tapes) and looked at their original drawings. in one of my first jobs as a consultant.

The object was to standardize the characterization of the Warner Bros. cartoon pantheon for legacy purposes.  These characters are now all over the world in television, merchandizing, and spin offs (Baby Bugs Bunny).  And Bugs needs to look like Bugs and act like Bugs wherever he appears. I helped create the official style and character guide.

But back to Bug Bunny’s Character Type:

Power of Excitement characters play the role of the merry prankster. They keep things lively, entertaining, interesting and off-balance for all the other characters  At heart, these characters are anarchists.  They love to cause chaos to keep things amusing or to shake up the existing (dull, boring, or pedantic) order of things.

Bugs Bunny is smart, sassy and adept at getting into and out of traps.  He is an anarchist, who refuses to obey rules (including the law of gravity).  “Ahh, Doc– I never went to law school.”  Bugs is a charming agent of chaos in every one of his cartoon roles. Bart Simpson is another example of this smart mouth “bad boy” character.

If we look to the Dark Side of Power of Excitement, we need to look no further than The Joker in the Batman franchise to find an example.  The clip below is the definition of an Agent of Chaos gone bad:

The film has been a great commercial success and has had a generally positive critical reception. I find myself in the distinct minority. For me the film has a very muddled story and lacks a strong clear emotional arc. Spoilers ahead for those who haven’t seen it.

“Frozen” is very loosely based on the Hans Christian Anderson fairytale, “The Snow Queen”. The original story depicts a little boy and girl, Kai and Gerda, caught in a terrible struggle between good and evil. Innocence is the only power that can vanquish darkness. This link is a good summary of the original story: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Snow_Queen

Evil is mostly eradicated from the Disney adaption. Anderson’s Snow Queen character is a powerful female villain on a par with Sleeping Beauty’s Maleficent, Cruella deVil in 101 Dalmations, The Little Mermaid’s Ursula or the Evil Queen in Snow White.

Instead of a great Diva of Darkness, “Frozen” gives us troubled Princess Elsa of Arendelle, a loving daughter and doting sister who has the ability to freeze everything within her reach. One day, during a wintery romp with her adoring younger sister, Anna, she accidentally pierces the girl with a ice shard.

Her parents bring Anna to a troll king for healing and the troll king is told Elsa’s powers are innate and not a curse. The random mishap causes Elsa to retreat from her sister and subjects to hide her abilities and for fear of causing further harm. Her parents are then lost at sea for no apparent reason.

Anna, tries endlessly over the years to draw her sister out, only to be rebuffed. Elsa can no longer hide when she comes of age and must attend her summer coronation ceremony. Tragedy strikes again when the young queen is angered by Anna’s impulsive engagement and cannot control her temper or her freezing powers.

Elsa locks the kingdom in a Polar Vortex of endless winter. She flees to far off snowy North Mountain and creates a crystal palace or Fortress of Solitude where she can finally be herself and be free by “never feeling anything”. This doesn’t make her evil, only a misunderstood recluse.

Anna, always believing her sister to be good and kind, goes after Elsa. Elsa deeply cares about Anna and is ever fearful of hurting her. Tragedy strikes yet again when Elsa becomes angered by Anna’s persistence and pushes Anna away piercing Anna’s heart with paralyzing cold. Unless Anna’s heart is thawed by “an act of true love,” she will be frozen solid forever.

Anna is rushed to Arendelle to the supposed saving True Love’s Kiss of her betrothed, Prince Hans of the Summer Isles. He reveals himself, in a stunning narrative cheat, to only be after a crown (being 12th in line to the throne at home). There is never the slightest hint that Hans has anything but honorable intentions prior to this verbal revelation. Refusing to kiss her, he throws Anna in jail. I’m not sure how he thinks this will get him closer to the throne since he has no claim on it himself. Hans then mounts a search and destroy mission to kill Elsa. Yes, this is evil but it comes unearned, is illogical, and is very late in the story.

As Anna is dying, in the final moments of her life, she shields Elsa from harm. Although this is a sacrifice it is not a very big one. Anna is dying anyway. She is giving up something she has already lost. Elsa’s tears of grief melt Anna and supposedly warm Elsa’s own heart.

Here are my problems:

If Elsa’s freezing power can cause harm, even unintentionally, how can she be trusted (or trust herself) once back in Arendelle. Her benign building of an ice rink for the amusement of her subjects mirrors the original tragedy with her sister. What has changed?

If Elsa’s powers were the result of a curse, the curse could be lifted (by an act of love). Her freezing ability would be ended. If her abilities were a curse her parents could be killed on a journey to find a way to lift the curse, making Elsa feel even more culpable.

As an inborn ability, Elsa’s freezing power doesn’t go away. But we see no visible process of learning to channel it or control it. Will anger, despite her best intentions, have future disastrous consequences?

Elsa’s abilities also have no effect on her personality. Despite her frigid isolation and singing about never wanting to feel anything she personally never becomes bitter, cold, or cruel. Her hands may be cold but her heart is still warm. Everything she does, even creating the snow monster, is to protect others by keeping them away from her.

Elsa had a loving heart as a child princess and has one now as a young queen. She sacrifices years of her life to protect Anna. How are a few tears of grief at the end of the story a more powerful “act of love” than a life-time of sacrifice?

Anna, in turn, never gives up on her sister. She even pursues Elsa up a dangerous mountain against everyone’s warning. She is undaunted and, even when injured, doesn’t doubt Elsa’s goodness. How is shielding Elsa when Anna is moments from death, with nothing left to lose, a more powerful “act of love” than a life of undoubting belief in her sister and endless attempts to engage her?

If the cold had retreated from Arendelle as Elsa moved further away and up the mountain the people could demand that Anna be crowned queen instead of Elsa. Hans could try to rush Anna into a marriage, and secure the crown for himself as well. He could argue that Anna has always been the ignored, marginalized, abandoned younger sister. This is her time to shine and take her rightful place. He believes in her and Anna would make a wonderful queen. Hans could argue he will give Anna all the love Elsa withheld by withdrawing and now finally leaving her.

Hans’ arguments could provide a powerful incentive to stay. Anna would have everything she wants (and has always been denied): a sunny life of comfort and joy; the prestige of a crown and the ability to fully engage with her subjects; and the warmth of her own “true love.” However tempting, if Anna refused to marry without her sister’s blessing it would take her back up the mountain. The journey then would be at the sacrifice of everything that could make Anna happy. Even though she might be sorely tempted to stay Anna could still decide to give her sister one last chance.

Instead, Anna simply repeats what she has always done– go after Elsa. There is little holding Anna back and no delicious alternative beckons. There is nothing to tempt her into selfishness. There is no real inner struggle or doubt. Maybe her sister is not a force of good– but as evil, selfish, and angry as Hans might claim.

Despite being told (several times) True Love’s Kiss is essential, it is never used to any consequence in the story. Hans refuses to kiss Anna instead of kissing her and the kiss having no effect. The coldness of his kiss could make Anna realize her sister was right and he wasn’t the man for her (in an action that isn’t a verbal narrative cheat). That could propel Anna back to Elsa, to apologize, realizing Elsa always had Anna’s best interest at heart. She could then save her sister to make things right between them.

Unbelievably, these “Frozen” sisters never argue with bitter emotional consequences. (There are no more serious wounds than those inflicted by a sister.)  There is an argument about Anna’s impulsive engagement but it doesn’t last long. There is no deep seated terrible misunderstanding that constantly erupts between them. Why doesn’t Anna resent her sister’s withdrawal and just give up on her? Why isn’t Anna turned away from Elsa by Elsa’s seeming selfishness in refusing her blessing of Anna’s engagement? Why doesn’t Anna accuse Elsa of ruining her life and not wanting (never wanting) Anna to be happy? Why doesn’t Anna accuse Elsa of being cold and controlling? Why doesn’t Anna believe that Elsa is unhappy and wants everyone else to be frozen in unhappiness as well? Why doesn’t Hans try to undermine their relationship? Why aren’t the sisters deeply estranged at some point? Deep estrangement and bitter misunderstanding could propel their conflict and would provide something powerful to overcome.

In “Frozen” loving sisters never stop loving each other and, at the end, love each other more. That’s not a dramatic emotional arc.

There is also little lasting romance in “Frozen.” Even though there is great chemistry between Anna and Kristoff there is no real suggestion he and Anna are now a permanent couple. The gift of a new sleigh would logically prompt to Kristoff to leave the now sunny Arendelle to go back to harvesting ice (a prospect he seems happy about). Hans is quickly dispensed with in a dunk in the water and then back to the Summer Isles. There is no love interest at all for Elsa throughout the story.

This is a troubling lack of positive male energy. I am all for Girl Power and sister stories but instead of finding partners who are their equals and who treat them as equals both the heroines of “Brave” and “Frozen” seem to dispense with the importance of men all together. I’m not sure that mothers and sisters, as wonderful as they are, should negate the need for a grown-up romantic partner.

“Frozen” is a pleasant enough diversion but it lacks the power of classic fairytales.

Settling down in the theater seat I saw what seemed like a dozen trailers for upcoming animated films. There is a lot of competition out there!

All of the visuals for the coming attractions looked great, and so does Brave.  Every review of Brave (even the bad ones) wax poetic about  the lush scenery, the gorgeous colors, the spectacular hair, the realistic fur, and the impressive claws!

Folks, I’m here to tell you– The technology war is OVER. How much more realistic can you make rippling water, wind-whipped tresses, galloping horses, and  sleek bear pelts?  Great visuals are now the norm. Every animated studio film has them and the incremental improvements, unless they are game-changing, don’t add up to very much in my book. Are technological advances in fur, hair, and water really the reason why we go to movies? Is it to watch a fabulous moving painting?

We go to movies for the same reason people sat around the castle hearth in 10th century Scotland– for a great story filled with memorable characters! Brave, set in that very time and place, repeats over and over “Legends are lessons.” That is true of the best stories. They tell us what it is to be human in all our fragility and strength, blindness and insight, and selfishness and transcendence.

What story exactly is Brave telling? What is the lesson in this legend? The film’s very muddled narrative adds up to a lack of complexity and not enough heart. If the film’s visuals were on a par with the story we’d be watching stick figures.

I knew Brave was in trouble from the first few words spoken in voice over as the film began. Merida (Kelly Macdonald) uses the words “fate” and “destiny” interchangeably.  This muddle-headedness is at the heart of the film’s problem.

What’s the difference between fate and destiny? Philosophers through the ages have distinguished the two based on choice. Fate is something that happens TO you. Destiny is something that happens BECAUSE of you.

Fate is at the root of such words as “fatal” and “fatalistic.” It implies LACK of choice. Philosopher Rollo May says fate is what we are born into, something that cannot be changed and that we have no control over, such as race.

May says destiny is what we create based on what we were given. Destiny is all about CHOICE. It’s what we choose to do with what we have.

Merida is born a princess. She can’t change that. Her mother, Queen Elinor (Emma Thompson), is grooming Merida for a role as future queen. After a long series of wars King Fergus (Billy Connolly) has united the four clans. Merida’s duty is to help keep the clans unified though a judicious marriage.

Merida is a wild rebellious child with special talent as a rider and archer. The demonstrations of her skills are absolutely breath-taking.  She is unique and extraordinary and initially looks very much like a Power of Idealism character.

These kinds of characters are driven by their passion. They abhor what they consider to be a mundane, boring, or mediocre life. They want to seize some grand destiny that is uniquely theirs.

The film starts out like a Power of Idealism Coming of Age story. The deeper human questions at the heart of these stories are: How can I be true to myself and find my rightful place in the world? What is my own special destiny?

Well drawn female protagonists in this vein are:

Paikea (Keisha Castle-Hughes) in Whale Rider. This film, for those who haven’t seen it is described on IMDB as “A contemporary story of (family) love, rejection and triumph as a young Maori girl fights to fulfill a destiny her grandfather refuses to recognize.”

Jess Kaur Bhamra (Parminder Nagra) in Bend it Like Beckham is another example. IMDB states the film’s log line as “The (talented) daughter of an orthodox Sikh rebels against her parents’ traditionalism by running off to Germany to play with a girl’s football team (soccer in America).”

Unlike Paikea or Jess, Merida doesn’t fight for what she believes is HER destiny. Merida, instead, decides to change her mother!  Perhaps this is because Merida has no clue about what she is really called to do.

Now the story gets even muddier. With the help of an old witch’s spell Merida does indeed change her mother — into a bear.

Instead of figuring out who she is and what she uniquely is called to do, Merida must again deal with who her mother is. In the struggle over the middle part of Brave, Queen Elinor becomes the protagonist.

The definition of a protagonist, in my book, is the person who makes the biggest emotional sacrifice in the story. It is the person who undergoes the most profound transformation. This is clearly Elinor on every front.

Queen Elinor is a Power of Conscience character. She is a strict and demanding taskmaster, a perfectionist, and is driven by a strong sense of tradition and duty. Over the course of the story she recognizes her daughter’s uniqueness and fully appreciates Merida for who she is.

The first important glimpse of Elinor’s change of heart is the brawl in the great hall after Merida has disappeared.  When Merida strides back into the hall it is Elinor who puts words in Merida’s mouth. Elinor speaks through her surrogate about going against tradition and marrying for love. It is Elinor who makes an eloquent plea for choice and following one’s heart. Merida is just her passive interpreter. At the end of the film Elinor is willing to sacrifice her own life in a battle with the ancient cursed bear, who one would assume, was the monster who took off her husband’s leg. Or not? Who knows?

Even more confusingly this monster turns out to be the legendary brother, it would seem, who destroyed the ancient kingdom so long ago because of his pride and selfishness.  How did he turn into a bear? Was it mother love or something else that breaks his curse?

When a legend and curse is set up so carefully it should have a pay-off having to do with Merida or her destiny– if the film is really about Merida.

And what does Merida do that is so brave?  She scurries around looking for the witch’s house after her mother turns into a bear.  She stitches up (with big clumsy childish stitches) the tapestry she slashed separating her from her mother.  She does a lot of running away and running around. She is ineffective in battling the monstrous cursed bear. And she collapses in tears remembering her mother’s loving kindness as the second sunrise threatens to make her mother’s bear curse permanent. In other words, she acts like a child– or worse a girl.

At the end of the film, Elinor has changed but not Merida.  Merida is the same galloping wild child as she was in the beginning.  This refusal to accept restrictions, grow up, or take responsibility is Power of Excitement territory. It is a sinking back into childhood rather than striding toward an adulthood based both on duty and and an individualistic sense of self. If you are a young woman, what is the lesson here?

Brave offers no alternative vision of how Merida might help unify the clan in some way that is uniquely hers. It provides a very unsatisfying resolution. How has Merida changed or grown? What happens when King Fergus and Queen Elinor are too old to rule? What is Merida’s role going forward?

There is so much missed opportunity in Brave.  Manohla Dargis writing in The New York Times laments:  “The association of Merida with the natural world accounts for some of the movie’s most beautifully animated sequences, and in other, smarter or maybe just braver, hands it might have also inspired new thinking about women, men, nature and culture.”

The story thuds along on the surface. None of the characters in Brave is particularly complex or have much emotional depth. Although Elinor and King Fergus are a love match now, theirs was an arranged marriage. Did either ever love another? How does either feel about the fact neither might have chosen the other if it was up to choice? How did they eventually find love together? That is rich emotional territory that never factors into the story– or in Elinor’s advice or lessons to Merida. It seems incredible that a loving mother wouldn’t speak of her own experience on the eve of arranged betrothal, especially if it was a struggle that ultimately lead to happiness.

King Fergus himself, is a simple lovable loud-mouth lout. He is the very broadest brush-stroke Power of Will character. He’s a big, larger than life presence. He is a man of lusty appetite– for food, wine, and brawling.

Merida’s three suitors are a joke. None of them is remotely appealing.  This is a huge mistake and gives Merida no pause for thought nor any temptation to chose a different path.  It removes essential inner conflict for her. All the conflict in the story is the simplest external conflict. No one has self-doubts. No one struggles within themselves.

How did the film go so wrong, except for the visuals?  Joe Morgenstern writing in The Wall Street Journal reports: “Brave was a notoriously troubled production, with a change of directors that clearly led to a change of narrative direction. (The complexity of the final credits reflects the tortuous history: directed by Mark Andrews and Brenda Chapman and co-directed by Steve Purcell, from a script written by Messrs. Andrews and Purcell, Ms. Chapman and Irene Mecchi.)

Colin Covert writing for The Minneapolis Star Tribune pretty much sums it up: “The standout characters, exciting set pieces and memorable songs that we’ve come to expect are absent. The truest advertising tagline would be, “From the studio that brought you ‘Cars 2.’“

Monsters Inc.

Protagonist, James P. Sullivan “Sully” (John Goodman) is a genial, lovable and caring big blue furry monster.  He is a Power of Love character and the top performer in the company, followed closely by  his main rival Randall Boggs (Steve Buscemi).  Sully’s manager/trainer is Mike Wazowski (Billy Crystal).  He is a fast-talking  short green cyclops who is a publicity hound Power of Ambition character.  Mike basks in Sully’s reflected glory and assists Sully in his duties.

The problem in Monsteropolis is that children are becoming harder and harder to scare.  The joke is that the monsters are actually terrified by children. An elaborate containment routine is triggered when so much as a child’s sock enters their world.  Complete chaos ensues when a little girl, Boo, accidentally follows Sully back to Monsteropolis.  She isn’t afraid of Sully at all and calls him “kitty.”

After the initial shock, Sully immediately protects, hides and cares for the child.  Boo falls into the clutches of the Chairman of Monsters Inc., Henry J. Waternoose (James Coburn) and Randall Boggs in a plot to enslave children and forcibly extract their screams. Randall is a chameleon-like Power of Truth character.  He possesses the ability to change color in an sneaky stealthy shape-shifting way that truly terrifies Boo.

In uncovering the plot and rescuing Boo, Sully and Mike also discover that more power is generated by laughter than by fear.  Randall and Waternoose are exposed and defeated.  Monsters Inc. revamps its approach and generates even more power.  Mike finally graduates to having his own door and Sully reunites with Boo for a final tender good-bye.

This wonderful Pixar movie made me wonder what in my life is powered by fear.  It made me wonder what would happen if I turned off that switch and changed tactics, like Monsters Inc.  It’s my belief that any decision generated by fear is the wrong decision. Fear always speaks to the worst in us.  What leap of faith would I need to take to generate more power through joy? What would I need to change in my life to do that?

First of all, the film is stunningly beautiful visually.  The fluidity of the ocean is marvelously and imaginatively depicted and the solid gravity of earth keeps the human characters anchored to the ground in a very real way.  It is a delight to behold.

The film tells the story is about a curious “daughter of the sea” (Ponyo) who is rescued by a very young boy.  She is trapped in a glass jar, a piece of ocean trash washed up on shore.  In helping her out of her predicament, the boy (Sosuke) cuts his finger.  She licks the wound and it heals instantly.  Ponyo, having ingested human blood, begins the transformation to becoming human.  The two children desperately want to stay together.  Ponyo risks all to be with her friend Sosuke.  Sosuke must accept “all the Ponyos” in all her incarnation as a test of true love.

Here is what Manohla Dargis, writing in the New York Times has to say:  “To watch the image of a young girl burbling with laughter as she runs atop cresting waves in “Ponyo” is to be reminded of how infrequently the movies seem to express joy now, how rarely they sweep us up in ecstatic reverie. It’s a giddy, touchingly resonant image of freedom — the animated girl is as liberated from shoes as from the laws of nature — one that the director Hayao Miyazaki lingers on only as long as it takes your eyes and mind to hold it close, love it deeply and immediately regret its impermanence.”

That is exactly what I’ve been missing in more recent live action releases.  I see so very little joy, hope or the exuberance of life and love on the screen.  And yes this is a fairytale. But there are gentle reminders that things are not at all well in the world.

The ocean is polluted and Ponyo’s father decries how careless humans are with the natural treasures in our world. The youthful exuberance of the children is contrasted with the routine and sedentary existence of the seniors in the center where Ponyo’s mother work (and where Sosuke often visits).  The impermanence of life is reflected in those seniors whose lives are slipping away.

This film really hit home for me.  Sosuke must promise to love Ponyo in whatever form she appears to him.  During our lives we all go through many iterations of ourselves.  Some variations are more pleasant than others. My husband and I have been together since I was nineteen.  In the decades we grown up together we’ve gone through many changes, and very different forms and iterations of ourselves– we’ve undergone rough times and smooth times, seen much sorrow and great joy.

But constancy, fidelity and true love must allow for each change, no matter how difficult.  Right now my father-in-law is in the late stages of Alzheimer’s.  In many ways he is longer recognizable as the man he once was, and yet we love him just the same. We love him in whatever form he appears to us.

That constant love is what Sosuke must promise to Ponyo’s mother, the Goddess of Mercy.  It is his love that restores the balance of nature in the film.  No matter how upsetting or difficult the circumstances it is love that restores the balance and harmony to our own lives.  When we love we see life through the lens of compassion.  When we have compassion it is also possible to find joy no matter how difficult the situation.

His Holiness the XIV Dalai Lama

]]> https://etbscreenwriting.com/ponyo-day-ten-40movies40days/feed/ 0 https://etbscreenwriting.com/rango-and-my-own-lenten-observance-40movies40days/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=rango-and-my-own-lenten-observance-40movies40days https://etbscreenwriting.com/rango-and-my-own-lenten-observance-40movies40days/#respond Thu, 10 Mar 2011 21:45:28 +0000 http://etbscreenwriting.com//?p=4036 I dodged a couple of potentially catastrophic bullets very recently.  I’ve had a droopy eye lid for a while now.  It’s gotten to the point that when I am tired, it’s hard to read– My eye lid sags, causes eye strain and makes me feel very sleepy.  Reading at night is the worst.

After returning from my most recent trip to Europe, I went to the eye doctor.  I thought I had a bit of a muscle tone problem and it would be mendable with a small nip and tuck– and while I was under the knife– maybe I would just do a few other small tweaks as well.  Win win.

Instead, I was diagnosed with Horner’s Syndrome.  I was informed there are four possible causes of Horner’s– shingles (which I did have but in the wrong place to be a factor) brain tumor, brain aneurism or lung cancer.  Each option was more horrific than the next.  It took a month (over 30 days) of waiting to get the MIR appointments and neurology appointments that I needed to hear the answer.

The good news was I was given the all clear on all fronts.  The doctors said that sometimes the reason for Horner’s is not discoverable.  But it is a neurological weakening of the eye lid muscles. I can get the nip and tuck when my insurance company approves, so perhaps this is a tweakable situation yet.

Cut to– Yesterday, on Ash Wednesday, the Lenten season started.  Ash Wednesday is a day to remember “you are dust and unto dust you shall return” (a quote from the book of Genesis).   The fleeting nature of life is something that hits uncomfortably close to home given my recent reprieve.

Lent is a period of time (40 days) of reflection, discernment and renewal.  It ends on the glorious miracle of Easter Sunday–  If you believe in the Resurrection.  Or it ends with the more secular egg hunt and Easter basket goodies, if you are a general holiday celebrator.  The egg is a long-time pagan symbol of new life so we still are tapping into the renewal thing with Easter eggs.

Every religion or cultural tradition has a period of annual inward looking, contemplation and sense of starting over or symbolic rebrith.  It’s important at times to stop, whatever our belief system, and ask– what are we doing? Are we just living by rote or routine?  And “is this what I want out of my life or am I who I want to be”?

One of the reasons people “give things up” during Lent is to take themselves out of their comfort zones.  People often choose giving up chocolate, smoking, sweets, drinking, mindless television-watching, etc. to break those habits (for a time) that are self-indulgent, self-destructive or that keep us in an anesthetized state.  Lent is supposed to move us out of the rote and routine of our lives and challenge us to look at ourselves anew.

So what does all this have to do with Rango (the first full-length ILM animated movie)?  Give me a moment to set things up before I move in for the personal payoff.

Rango is the story of a chameleon who, during a car accident, falls out of a family vehicle and escapes when his glass habitat shatters on the asphalt.   He is stranded in the desert somewhere between Nowhere and Las Vegas.

Although the film has much to recommend it– wonderfully detailed animation, unusual and odd character choices (moth-eaten, flea-bitten, broken-down and patched up every one), a fully realized visual world and inventive set pieces that are fast, furious and funny– these great elements just don’t add up to much. On first viewing there is so much visual cleverness, so many movie send-ups and western spoofs going on it’s easy not to notice the story is a mess and the characters are very poorly defined.

Here’s how Lisa Schwarzbaum put it in Entertainment Weekly

Rango takes a long time finding a story line to stick with. First the lizard, liberated from domestication by humans, gets a crash course in outdoor life skills. (In the desert, blend in!) He staggers into a dusty town called Dirt and decides to reinvent himself as a gunslinging hero. (In town, stand out!) After being rewarded for inadvertent acts of bravery as town sheriff, he decides that being a hero is too hard. Then he changes his mind and sticks to his, er, gun. (Actually, a single bullet)

This isn’t a movie that will hold up well after repeated viewing.  Rango, the character, can’t seem to make up his mind whether he is a Power of Ambition character (boasting, bragging and pretending to be something he’s not because he feels like a fraud or a fake inside) or a Power of Idealism character (a unique and extraordinary creature who is trying to figure out how he can maintain his individuality AND be part of or fit into a community AND be true to his special destiny.)

Everything and the kitchen sink is thrown into the movie– parts of Chinatown are graphed onto High Noon with side excursions into The Man with No Name.  But nothing adds up, makes sense or has a deeper emotional meaning, relevance or resonance.

Beans, the female lead iguana, tells us she is worried about losing her daddy’s farm but we never see the land or her personal connection to it.  Someone is dumping water but we never find out why or for what specific purpose, unlike in Chinatown.  The actual answer to the problem in the film is not water dumping but a shut off water valve that someone closed.  There is no narrative coherence anywhere.  There is lots of action and very little heart.

Here is how Ty Burr puts it, writing The Boston Globe:

Just as often, though, everyone mills around waiting for the story to go somewhere. “Rango’’ wants to send up every sagebrush cliche it can, but the screenplay just piles those cliches on top of each other and waits for alchemy to happen. The director is Gore Verbinski, the mastermind of the “Pirates of the Caribbean’’ franchise, and like those movies, “Rango’’ is a highly watchable but somewhat frustrating mix of sloppy plotting, rascally attitude, and Big Action.

It’s a fun movie and a noisy one, but not the great work of family-friendly gonzo this particular crew could have created with just a little more focus. Back to your workstations, boys, and let’s see what else you’ve got.

(E)veryone mills around waiting for the story to go somewhere. “Rango’’ wants to send up every sagebrush cliche it can, but the screenplay just piles those cliches on top of each other and waits for alchemy to happen.

The director is Gore Verbinski, the mastermind of the “Pirates of the Caribbean’’ franchise, and like those movies, “Rango’’ is a highly watchable but somewhat frustrating mix of sloppy plotting, rascally attitude, and Big Action. (IMO those movies go nowhere either)

It’s a fun movie and a noisy one, but not the great work of family-friendly gonzo (filmmaking that) this particular crew could have created with just a little more focus. Back to your workstations, boys, and let’s see what else you’ve got.

Okay so here’s the personal Lenten observation part.

Like this film, my life is filled with a steady stream of creative and inventive action sequences.  I have a bunch of projects and lots of other things going at full blast.

What are they adding up to?  Do they have a strong narrative through-line that is clearly defining who I want to be and how I want to live my life?  Is my focus clear enough or am I just addicted to the frantic activity?   Do I just mill around between action sequences waiting for the story to go somewhere?  What is all this activity in service of.  Food for thought for 40 days.

So what am I going to do about it?  I’ve decided to watch 40 films in 40 days and write about them from a personal standpoint as I puzzle through how I want to be reborn on Easter morning.  It will be a journey of looking at my life through the lens of movies– some contemporary and some old school– I hope you will join me.

Rather than just write about Character Types and story construction I want to look at my own life and how I am constructing my own story.  Do you ever want to take a step back and ask yourself– just what is most important and how do my choices define me?  Do you ever wonder what your frantic activity adds up to in the end?

Okay, I know this just sounds like piling on more activity but I am also committed to quitting work at 5PM for 40 days and giving myself time to think about the larger narrative arc of the time (hopefully lots and lots) that I have left.  I am going to do a better job of prioritizing and putting the larger purpose of my life first.  I’d love to hear your thoughts on all this and about the questions you struggle with in your own life as you move from project to project.  Comment here or on my ETB FaceBook Page.   #40movies40days

Whenever a ruthless dictator and a few brutal henchmen seize power and squander the resources of the community, they rely on fear, intimidation and violence to keep and maintain the repressive status quo.  Once the community wakes up and realizes its own inherent power, it can’t be stopped in its demands for freedom and autonomy.  It is usually the young who lead the way.

In the real world, the community may have to take several runs at the oppressive regime over an extended period of time but “you cannot stop an idea whose time has come.”  In the Middle East we see a surging hunger for democracy and a desire to end the repressive exploitation that has kept so many people poor, overworked and paralyzed by fear.

Here is my commentary on this wonderful Pixar film released in 1998 and well worth another look today.

In A Bug’s Life, an island colony of hard-working ants is exploited by a dictatorial grasshopper thug, Hopper (voiced by Kevin Spacey).  Hopper and his vicious henchmen extort most of the colony’s food each summer. The ants are left with very little time to gather what meager provisions that are left.

Flik (voiced by Dave Foley), is young ant who rebels against the traditional conformity of ant society.  He is an individual thinker and an odd-ball eccentric.  Flik is a Power of Idealism character.  These characters want to find their special place in the world, be extraordinary in what they do and are often called to some great destiny (usually as a freedom-fighting warrior/leader).  They are misfits, mavericks and rebels. These characters reject popular opinion or the demands of authority to maintain and assert their own unique individuality and break through the accepted conventions of society.

All the other ants in the film march in lock-step following exactly the ant that went before.  They panic when the “line” is broken by a randomly fallen leaf.  Flik wants to do things differently.  He’s invented a threshing machine to make grain collection faster and easier.  He goes off on his own to do his own thing. None of the other ants want anything to do with him.  Because he’s young and still learning, Flik’s inventions tend to end in disaster.

When Flik adds his pile of food to the offering for the grasshoppers, he accidentally dumps everything into the stream. The grasshoppers arrive and are furious to find that their tribute booty is gone.  They double the extortion price and the colony will most likely have to work themselves to death and starve when their last food reserves are taken.

Flik offers a radical idea.  He will leave the colony, find a band of warrior insects and lead a rebellion against the evil grasshopper regime.  Everyone thinks he is crazy but they send him off on what they see as a suicide mission, mostly to get rid of him.  They don’t want any problems or delays in their desperate attempts to gather more food for the grasshoppers.  The only ant who believes in Flik is Dot, a youngster who is the littlest member of the ant royal family.

Dot (voiced by Hayden Panettiere) is a Power of Imagination character.  Like all of these kinds of characters, she is innocent and naive.  Power of Imagination characters are childlike in their beliefs.  They are often overlooked small and gentle souls who believe against all odds, trust against all conventional wisdom and have faith against all experience or reason.  Dot has absolute unwavering conviction in Flik’s abilities.  She watches for him and when he returns she says:  “Flik you came back. I knew you could do it!”

Any rebellion against the status quo requires true believers in the impossible.  In the recent rebellions, it has been the women (the mothers, grandmothers and daughters) who have quietly been providing food, water and medical attention to the protesters, believing with simple unwavering conviction in what here-to-fore has seemed impossible to achieve.  I am sure some women probably fought but the pictures mostly have demonstrated the quiet resistance of the women who believe in the fight their sons, brothers and fathers are waging.

Princess Atta (voiced by Julia Louis-Drefuss) is a Power of Truth character.  She is nervous and slightly neurotic, always doubting and second-guessing herself.  She hems and haws until Flik is beaten badly by the grasshopper overlord, Hopper.  When Flik refuses to back down, even in the face of certain death, she finally finds her courage and helps rally the ants.  The community’s powerfully linked arms, realization of their own inherent power and superior numbers overwhelms the grasshoppers.

As we are seeing in the rebellions unfolding in the Middle East, you can’t stop the power of a united community.  When people link arms and keep coming, eventually, and often at great cost, a repressive regime topples.  The simple truth is always: “There are more of us than there are of them.”   The following clips expresses the philosophy of despotic thug regimes everywhere and how the community, when powerfully called to action, eventually triumphs.

Enjoy and watch some simple entertainment that contains a potent message and lesson we all need to learn over and over again.  Find the clips here:

In the Toy Story Movie Trilogy, Cowboy Woody (voiced by Tom Hanks) undergoes the rich complex emotional journey of an exceptionally well-drawn Power of Love character. In Toy Story 3, Woody completes that journey with his beloved Andy.  Toy Story 3 is as powerful, heartfelt, thrilling and funny as any film deserving of a “Best Picture” nomination.  It has my personal vote to take home the 2011 Oscar in that category.

Power of Love characters see their own value only as it is reflected in the eyes of their love object.  Woody’s relationship with Andy defines who Woody is and why he feels important.  His “special place” in Andy’s heart and on Andy’s pillow is put at risk in the first Toy Story film.  A new toy, Buzz Lightyear (voiced by Tim Allen), has captured Andy’s attention and interest.  When Buzz appears on Andy’s bed Woody approaches the interloper to set things straight.

Woody says:  “Hey hey! Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa! Did I frighten you? Didn’t mean to. Sorry. Howdy. My name… is Woody… and this… is Andy’s room. That’s all I wanted to say. And also, there has been a bit of a mix-up. This is my spot, see… the bed here.”

When Buzz won’t cooperate Woody’s reaction is mounting fury and intense jealousy.  Woody says: “Listen, Lightsnack, you stay away from Andy. He’s mine, and no one is taking him away from me.”

Over the course of Toy Story, Woody learns to share Andy’s love.  Woody and Buzz become friends.  It is a hard won step in Woody’s emotional journey.  Power of Love characters fear becoming useless, unnecessary, unwanted or unappreciated.

These characters define their own self-worth by how much others need or are dependent on them. Jealousy and resentment are the immediate reactions when a Power of Love character feels displaced or rejected. Woody must put these selfish feelings aside and learn that love is expansive.  If you are open and generous you will find that there is enough to go around.

Power of Love characters are usually the caretakers in an ensemble and Woody relishes filling that role with the other toys.  In Toy Story 2 Woody prepares to go away with Andy to Cowboy Camp.  Woody is concerned that everyone is well cared for during his absence.  He says: “Here’s your list of things to do while I’m gone: batteries need to be changed. Toys at the bottom of the chest need to be rotated. Oh, and make sure everyone attends Mr. Spell’s seminar on what to do if you or part of you is swallowed. Okay? Okay, good, okay.”

But Woody’s arm gets ripped and Andy leaves him behind.  Andy goes to Cowboy Camp without his friend.  Through a series of unfortunate events, Woody ends up in a yard sale and is stolen by a vintage toy collector.  Buzz, leading the other toys, comes after Woody to return him to Andy and the toy chest.

Initially, Woody is tempted to stay with his new friends.  What he is offered is immortality– to be enshrined in a museum, admired and adored forever by endless generations of children.  Buzz tries to talk some sense into Woody.

Buzz Lightyear:  “Woody, stop this nonsense and let’s go.”

Woody:  “Nah, Buzz.”  (Woody sighs)  I can’t go. I can’t abandon these guys. They need me to get into this museum. Without me, they’ll go back into storage. Maybe forever.”

Buzz Lightyear:  “Woody, you’re not a collector’s item, you’re a child’s plaything. You are a toy!”

Woody:  “For how much longer? One more rip, and Andy’s done with me. And what do I do then, Buzz? Huh? You tell me.”

Buzz Lightyear:  “Somewhere in that pad of stuffing is a toy who taught me that life’s only worth living if you’re being loved by a kid. And I traveled all this way to rescue that toy because I believed him.”

Stinky Pete the Prospector tries to warn Woody that Andy is growing up and will eventually abandon him and break his heart. Woody tells Pete: “Your’e right, Prospector. I can’t stop Andy from growing up… but I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Woody realizes love is worth the pain.  He explains his attachment to Andy to his new friend Jessie the Cowgirl.

Woody: “Look Jessie, I know you hate me for leaving, but I have to go back. I’m still Andy’s toy. Well, if you knew him, you’d understand. See, Andy’s… ”

Jessie: “Let me guess. Andy’s a real special kid, and to him, you’re his buddy, his best friend, and when Andy plays with you it’s like… even though you’re not moving, you feel like you’re alive, because that’s how he sees you.”

Woody: “How did you know that?”

Jessie: “Because Emily was just the same. She was my whole world.”

In Toy Story 2 Woody learns to love Andy even though he knows Andy will eventually outgrow him.  Woody has moved from loving Andy because it makes Woody feel needed and important, to loving Andy unconditionally.  Even if love may eventually break Woody’s heart, it’s the only thing that matters.  The end is already in sight in Toy Story 2.

In Toy Story 3 Woody learns that loving is letting go.  Woody has the opportunity to go to college with Andy.  But he will sit on shelf, gathering dust.  Andy has moved past needing Woody and the cowboy knows it.  Instead, Woody chooses to join his friends and be donated to Bonnie, a much younger girl.

When Andy delivers the box, he is surprised to see Woody inside.  Andy hesitates and then lets go too.  He plays with Woody and the gang one last time and tells Bonnie:  “Now Woody, he’s been my pal for as long as I can remember. He’s brave, like a cowboy should be. And kind, and smart. But the thing that makes Woody special, is he’ll never give up on you… ever. He’ll be there for you, no matter what.”

Both Woody and Andy are ready to move on because that’s what you have to do in life.  The people you love eventually all will leave you– because of circumstances, age or death.  They go off to college.  They move away.  They come to the end of their lifespan.  We can choose to be embittered, resentful and closed off by our loss or we can chose to love expansively and let go like Woody.

This movie was particularly poignant to me because my family has learned all too clearly that loving is letting go.  Eleven years ago, on a Good Friday, my father died of lung cancer.  He was a long-time smoker and an “Ad Man” in the era of Mad Men. I can still see him light up a Pall Mall and sip his Tanqueray Martini.  He always had a crisp white handkerchief in his pocket, a shine on his shoes and the faint scent of Brylcreem and British Sterling.  If I had one word to describe him it would be “dapper.”  He was a showman and a professional hypnotist.  Everyone in town knew him and he was genuinely interested in and curious about everyone he met.

At the end of his life, my dad was in hospice care at home.  We were all fortunate to be with him and in the house when he died.  In his last days, it was clear he was ready– more than ready– to go.  As much as we wanted to keep him with us for just a little longer, it was time to say goodbye.

The biggest thing I’ve learned about love is that it is not diminished by distance.  It is not diminished by time.  It is not diminished by death.  Those we we have loved live forever in our hearts.  It hurts to love and let go.  But it hurts even more to close ourselves off from love.

I have learned we must allow our hearts to be cracked open by love and even be broken.  Those we love will disappoint us.  They will often fail us.  They will leave us. But that is part of being human. It’s a fragile, frail and imperfect existence.  And in the end, love is the only thing that makes life matter– even when it means saying goodbye.  There is no movie I can think of that expresses that sentiment better or with more elegance, grace and humor than Toy Story 3.

I’d love to hear your experience of the movie and how you have experienced and written about loss and love in your own life and work.  Please comment below or post on our new ETB FaceBook Page.  And if you are feeling generous and expansive today please “like” us.

Coraline (voiced by Dakota Fanning) is a lonely, neglected middle-school aged girl.  Her family has just moved to a new home far away from Coraline’s two best friends.  Her parents (voiced by Terri Hatcher and John Hodgman) are busy writers who work for a garden catalog company but don’t garden themselves.  They don’t like dirt.  They are also parents.  But they don’t seem to like family life.  Nor do they enjoy their daughter’s company.

I didn’t get a sense that these busy writers are pressed for time on a particularly onerous short-term deadline but really wish they could be with their daughter to help her adjust to her new home.  I never got the feeling Coraline was being to asked to pitch in during a difficult rough patch (or that she selfishly refused to help or understand her parents’ dilemma).

The lack of interest from or intimate contact with her parents seems to be the status quo.  When Coraline speaks, her parents often don’t look at her.  When they address her they rarely make eye-contact.  She seems to be an irritating obstacle in their self-absorbed way.  Mealtime is quick and unsatisfying.  The family refrigerator is nearly empty and contains only random odds and ends which Coraline’s father cooks into a gelatinous mess.

Miraculously, an alternative reality appears.  Coraline discovers a small secret door and follows a group of mice to an identical house.  She is greeted warmly by her “other” parents.  In this parallel home, her “other” mother cooks Coraline’s favorite foods.  Her “other” father plays with her and the family has planted a garden with her face depicted in flowers.  Her “other” parents dote on her.  There is only one problem.  Her “other” mother wants to replace Coraline’s eyes with buttons and she wants Coraline to stay forever in the alternative universe.  Her warmth turns into obsessive possessiveness.

Coraline can escape by finding three magic balls hidden with her “other” neighbors (voiced by Ian McShane, Dawn French and Jennifer Saunders).  Here is where the problems start.  Gathering the balls is an episodic exercise that is made easy with a magic “viewing stone” that quickly and effortlessly identifies each ball.  The search doesn’t require Coraline to discover anything new about herself, meet a personal challenge or learn any kind of life lesson.

When Coraline finally escapes from the alternative universe she finds her real parents are trapped inside a snow globe.  When they are freed they have no recollection of the experience.  They have not changed in any way nor have they taken any lesson from the experience.  Even worse, at the film’s climax it is Coraline’s friend Wybie (voiced by Robert Bailey Jr.), a lonely neighbor boy, who comes to the rescue and saves her.  This deprives Coraline of final control over her destiny.  What journey there is for her is co-opted by another character.

This is a splendid looking film without an emotional journey for its plucky heroine.  The dilemmas posed and the obstacle to overcome aren’t personal.  They are merely physical obstructions adding up to nothing much.  The film’s message seems to be that no matter how neglectful or self-absorbed busy working parents are, they are better than a poke with a needle and buttons for eyes.   There seems to be no middle ground between the obsessive “devouring” mother and the cold distant professional mom.  Perhaps this is supposed to be a comforting message for parents who have no time for their children and use presents to substitute for attention.  (Coraline’s mother buys her a pair of gloves as a rare token of affection but continues to be rather disengaged, impatient and abrupt right to end of the film.)  The most important journey in any film is the emotional journey.  The biggest obstacle to overcome should be yourself!