Harry Potter, and the Age of Faceless Characters
Alright, I may be just a little behind the “cutting edge” bandwagon, but I’ve finally finished reading the final book in the series, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. I must admit that I spent a number of nights until 1AM or so in order to read “just one more chapter” over and over, so the book itself was rather addicting. I think what bothered me a little, though, was that much of the book was spent in a tent, and I could tell that it was dragging a little. While I realize that there were a lot of things to get done, loose ends to tie up, and other things to take care of, there really were a few times that I was sitting there, willing myself to turn the page. As I finally reached the end, I was just ripping through, racing to find out what was going to happen next. It was definitely a fitting end to the series. I was very happy with it, and offer Rowling my congrats. I know she appreciates it, I’m sure.
What was so much more interesting, though, was the phenomenon and craze that has gone on around this story for the past decade. Harry Potter has become the iconic character of the early 21st century. (A look at the lines to buy the 7th book at Barnes & Noble should have convinced you of that. Compare that to the lines for the PS3 or the XBox 360, or even the iPhone.) The character has truly embraced a wide range of group personas, from young kids in elementary school to college students, as well as seasoned intellectuals.
What I’ve noticed, however, is the lack of these kinds of characters in the stories that are told in the media that we view, read, or watch now. Growing up, I was wowed by the He-Man, Ninja Turtles, the Ghostbusters… Indiana Jones was my hero from a very young age. Star Wars, though it was a little before my time, also took away a good chunk of my childhood. I remember having all the toys and stickers and notebooks, and pencil cases.
The most interesting parts about all of these, however, were not necessarily the products. It was the icon that they represented. The TMNT logo, or the “no-ghosts” sign; a lightsaber, blaster; a whip, or a fedora – each of these have become American pop-culture icons, that have seemingly outlasted the original sources that they came from, and still seem to permeate our culture today.
Now, fast forward past the 90s into the 21st century. What do we have to show for ourselves? The only comparable icons that we’ve produced seem to be The Matrix, which was and is one of the most original ideas ever produced on screen, and Harry Potter, the literary phenomenon of an original outside-the-box thinker. I guess I should also mention Pokemon, which itself can account for the unholy amount of Japanese cartoons that our kids are force-fed on Saturday mornings.
When you go to the movies now, or watch television, you seldom see unique, interesting characters anymore. Instead, you get the “tough-guy” character who can do anything, the sexy female, (either the victim or the femme fatale), and teenage characters who are simply dim-witted horndogs.
In an attempt to give audience “empathy” with the faceless characters, they are thrown into unbelievable, cruel, or even grotesque situations, and the audience is forced to watch as they are battered and bruised purely from an external perspective. How sad is that?
This is mostly why I enjoyed Harry Potter. There was internal struggle. You got to know the character, not only because of what he could or couldn’t do, but also why he was in the situations he was in. There was a soul to follow, there was a face, whether he had a lightning scar on it or not.
So kudos to Rowling. May her works continue to put to shame the drivel that the mainstream media would have us wade through.
- Kyle
Storytelling – Unfair Comparisons
I’ve always been interested in the different methods of storytelling. From movies, to books, to plays, to just sitting around the campfire, there’s all kinds of ways that a story can be related.
What bothers me, though, is when people start to compare the different versions of a story, that is, the different methods in which a story is told. People, it seems, find it fair to criticize a movie for being “not as good as the book.”
By example, take a look at the different versions of the several Harry Potter films. Most people began reading these books when they were young, perhaps just before, or early high school-age. When the first movie came out, it was lauded as fantastic.
Now, though, as we’ve experienced the fifth book on the silver screen, we feel that we can be critical. We’ve earned the right to be authoritive as to whether the book or the movie is the better story.
That’s just plain unfair, however. Generally, we better enjoy the version that we first experienced. If we see the play first, the film just isn’t as good. If we’ve watched the movie, the book seems sub-par.
Why is that? I’m no expert on the matter, but I can venture a pretty good guess. Often times, when we experience something for the first time, and we enjoy it, there’s more to the experience than simply “the entertainment.”
When we read the book, we have experiences at the same time that are supplemental to the book itself, and provide a superior experience. When we watch a movie in the theater, it’s quite a different experience than when we watch it alone at home. When we mentally relive that experience, the memory is not of our living room, but instead is a dark room with stadium seating.
I don’t want to rant on. I just had this in my head and thought I’d jot it down. You can’t fairly compare the play, Phantom of the Opera, to the film. Bourne Identity is completely different in book form.
These are different mediums. You wouldn’t fairly compare Pepsi to a smoothie, though both are methods to quench your thirst.
-Kyle
