Advocating for the dumb heroine

Yep, her. The pretty girl who can't run ten feet without falling on her face. The gutsy woman who, despite having a PhD, doesn't have the brains to stand with her back to the wall so that the hideous thing that she's hunting can't sneak up behind her. The resourceful young co-ed who, despite getting stalked multiple times (Are you there, Sidney?) has never thought about moving to a state where you can get a license to carry a concealed gun, or three. Yes, this weeks little chat will be about the women who we all curse and mock, even as they skip merrily to their doom.

Claudia has speculated that in the world where these stories take place, these poor ladies have no examples to learn from; that in the world of horror movies, they themselves have no horror movies. There were no Grimm's Fairy Tales to terrify young children into obeying their parents. No one ever told scary stories to nervous campers huddled around a hand-built fire. Nor are there any urban legends warning innocent virgins about the dangers of parking along a deserted road with their boyfriends. That, to me, sounds like a pretty scary world. ('Who? Stephen King? Oh, you mean that schoolteacher up north somewhere? The one who went crazy and chewed his own hands off in front of his class? What about him?')

But that's too easy an answer. The movies are made and watched in this world, so we have to assume the rules of this world apply to them. You can't say that the hero was able to get to the heroine in time by breaking the speed of light, when everyone knows that you can't do that. We need to empathize with the people on the screen, and we can't do that if they have superpowers or otherwise don't have the same worries that we do.

So assuming there could be an attractive young lady, (wearing only panties and a dress shirt, of course, but that's a different discussion) running from a knife-wielding maniac somewhere in a neighborhood near you, why exactly is she doomed to trip over her own feet at some point? Why didn't she notice him staring at her through the window? Why didn't she run screaming out the front door when she heard the floorboards upstairs creak?

Do a little thought experiment for me, would you? Sometime this week, pick one day, and try to notice every, single, detail that might mean something.  Do this from the time you get up in the morning until you finally fall asleep at night. Take note of all the little sounds, (My co-worker just walked by me a few minutes ago. The spare blade that's stored inside his box cutter clicked with each step. I wonder why he was still wearing his box cutter on his belt this late in the day?) sights, (Strange. I never noticed dirty fingerprints on that part of the door before. Looks like they’re from a lot of different people, too) and other minutiae that you encounter every day, and then automatically forget. Make yourself aware of every single thing that whoever writes the next 'Saw' or 'Sherlock Holmes' movie could turn into one of the secret 'Ah-ha' moments right at the end.

Good luck getting to sleep.

As for why our heroine can't walk and chew bubblegum at the same time, imagine this: What if the very next time you got a call, or page, or text, you had to run. I mean you had to go balls to the wall, full power sprint, and you couldn't stop until you encountered someone wearing a beret. I'm not asking, or even recommending that you really try this, but just think about it. You have to run, and you don't know how far or even how long. There's no nice, even track for you to use, and there WILL be lots of things lying around for you to trip over. Life is like that. Oh, and the consequences of falling, or not running fast enough? That's where that big, shiny knife comes in, and you won't get the benefit of a fade out. Your version of the scene follows all the way through.

Now you can say that individuality will play a big part here. Some people are damn good at running, and other people wouldn't run, especially if Mister Spookface shows up in our heroine's home. That fight or flight response is unpredictable at best. Just today I read where a fourteen year old boy shot a man who broke into his home. That's the kind of news story we love to read, but would it fit in a horror movie?

Which brings me to the last point. All of the above, when you really consider it, is another answer that's just too easy. Hollywood and the writers that fuel it have been churning out hapless heroines for over a century, and they show no sign of slowing. There are exceptions, but they're only remarkable because they contrast to the norm. Horror requires that certain buttons get pushed, and the archetype of a damsel in distress pushes them. Are there other things that push the buttons? Of course. I, and my colleagues/competition, are constantly working at hunting them down. That doesn't mean we're going to stop using what works, not any time soon.

Is that archetype demeaning? Does it insult not only all the women who could outrun our killer, but also the ones who would outwit him, not to mention the ones who would blow his fool head off? (Have I mentioned that my wife can shoot?) Only if they were supposed to be models to live by. But these are fables, not news stories, and they function under different rules. There's a reason our heroine has a face, and why the killer wears a mask of some sort. We have to relate to her in one way, and to the killer in another. From a guy's perspective, the heroine is that girl who got away, and who will now run eagerly into our arms, because we can protect her. The killer, partly, is all the rage and hate we felt toward her, which is why he wears a mask. We don't want to be recognized as hating her. What is it from a woman's perspective? I can speculate that it's about the fears a woman has, of men and of the parts of life that she can't control, but I'm in unfamiliar territory here. A lady's response would be welcome.

My this post has a dark tone, doesn't it? Try to think about a cardboard box full of puppies and kittens for a little bit. That should clear your mental palette.

Still writing.

Edit:  Vagina.  See?  I say it, and the world doesn't end.

Movies, books, and a maze.

I finished reading 'Battle Royale' on Friday, and I have to say I liked it. I saw the movie some years ago, and except for changing some small (but not minor) details, I now know it's pretty true to the book. There's that same dark, bleak hopelessness that hits you in the face right at the beginning, and just builds through the rest of the story.

With the Hunger Games movie out, I've been pondering the comparisons between the two, and may pick up the Hunger Games book series so I can judge for myself. (I'll probably read something unrelated first, just to start with a fresh mind) I've read conflicting accounts whether the author of the latter has said she read Battle Royale, but just a bit of browsing, being careful to avoid spoilers, seems to indicate that Games ends up having the exact same group dynamic as Battle, which would 'strain credulity,' to quote Captain Barbosa.

Claudia and I saw 'Prometheus' Saturday, and it's going to take a bit of pondering to be able to say what I thought of it. There's a lot of subtle imagery and heavy questions that it asks. Sad to say, it seemed to waste Charlize Theron.

We also went looking for a van so we can start having steady transportation for all the grid and other stuff for Pan-Gaia designs when we go to conventions. If I ever had doubts that inspiration for good horror can be found anywhere and everywhere, one place we stopped at killed them. Along the highway, there are a lot of car dealerships, and these are one of the businesses that have been hit pretty hard by the recession. A lot of them are closed and deserted, and there is something really creepy about wandering through a lot with plain white vans, (some with bars and metal grid over the windows) vans with mechanical arms mounted on top, and old ambulances all around. There were no salespeople to be found, and all the vehicles were parked in rows that seemed like they had been designed by somebody studying modern art. The word 'labyrinth' came to mind more than once.

Yesterday was Father's Day, and it wasn't as good as I had hoped it would be. My mom is in the hospital, and I didn't get to talk to my daughter.

Am I still writing?  Hell yes.

On Crap

If you read, watch, or listen to horror, you're going to discover a basic truth: There's a lot of crap out there. It's true for other genres as well, but we're talking about horror, so smear some vapor rub under your nose and put on your waders. It gets pretty deep in here.

I just watched a movie on Netflix that billed itself as horror, and it inspired the title of this piece. I debated for a while whether or not to tell the title of the film, and I've just decided to give the relevant details, and if you can figure out which one I'm talking about, well, you've earned the warning to avoid it.

Disclaimer: Have I written crap? Oh hell yes. Will you ever read it? Not if I can help it. If you've ever read anything of mine that was crap, please send me an e-mail and we can arrange to meet somewhere along a dark, deserted stretch of road. If you can bring your own duct tape, plastic bags, and hacksaw, that would be ideal.

Now just as crap is unavoidable, in producing as well as consuming, it has a function. When you write something that stinks and oozes, you better have the ability to recognize it, and either flush it and learn from the experience, or break it down to it's raw elements and start over. If you can't recognize it, rest assured someone out there can, and they will not be shy about informing you. When you read or watch crap, you can tell what it is pretty quickly. Then, if you have the itch, you start noticing specifics. In the movie, Daniel Baldwin does a good job acting, but his character is one dimensional. All he is, is a really sadistic murderer. That's it. Good villains, on the other hand, are worth watching because they're interesting. Jigsaw has a code he follows, and he's a murderous psycho because he lost his unborn child and was given a death sentence by brain cancer. Hannibal Lecter is smarter than we are, has those creepy abilities to manipulate other people and to accurately predict what they'll do in important situations, and lived through a horrific childhood. These plot points make us envy and empathize with the villains. We make up little details about them in our head that are never mentioned in the book/movie. We say to ourselves, 'If I had that ability, I know exactly what I'd do with it.' Our movie villain is a murderous bully, and he's lucky. He gives us no hint of being a genius, and he NEVER makes a mistake.

Watch your foot. I think my disbelief is going to fall there.

The two protagonists would have to have an extra hour of screentime, each, in order to work their way up to being one-dimensional. We have a jaded cop, and an optimistic shrink, and that's all that they are. The emphasis here is on the victims, and to be fair the women deliver decent performances. But when the credits rolled, I wanted my hour and a half back. There was no point. Almost nothing changed, and the only thing that did, only made matters worse. I will admit that the later 'Saw' movies have this same problem, too, so I can understand people who make a claim to them getting labeled as crap. But I dare you to stick that label on the original, and then defend that viewpoint.

That's the difference. Good writing, whether it ends up in print or on a screen, tells a story. There is progression, whether for good or ill, but it has a pace, and a plot. I can sum up this movie by saying, 'Sadistic murderer tortures and murders some pretty women.' Except for the gory details, that's the whole story, which is no story.

That's crap.

I finished 'Blood' on Wednesday, and on Friday I started 'A Room'. I'm really excited about the latter, as I've had it bouncing around in my head for a long time now.

I'm trying out a new technique for these entries, writing them on an Open Office document and copying and pasting them in. This way I'll have a record in case Google swallows my blog and refuses to spit it back up, and I can write these earlier if I get an idea. Hopefully, that will prevent me from being late again.

Still writing.

Back from Project A-kon

Once again this is a day late, but I have a better excuse this time.  Yesterday I worked Claudia's booth at A-kon, as I had for the whole weekend, then I packed up the display and stock in the van she had rented, kissed her good-bye, and then drove all the way back to Houston because I had to go to work today.  When I got home last night it was nearly one in the morning, and while due to my insomnia that's not usually late for me, at that point I could still feel the vibration of the road in my bones and whenever I closed my eyes I could still see the lane dividers whipping past me.
A-kon always is a lot of fun, and this time was no exception.  There were all kinds of costumes, including a Catwoman who meowed and batted at one of the cat toys in the booth, the same two 'mushroom people' that I've seen nearly every year, and some REALLY good Sith characters.  I got to bare my general ignorance when I failed to know who a girl was talking about when she came to the booth looking for a crown so she could complete her Princess Peach costume, and I got to use my favorite elevator line.  We stayed in the Marriot, connected to the convention center, and there was always a long wait for an elevator.  When I finally got in one, I would always wait until the doors closed, and then look around and say, "Okay, who's seen the movie, 'Devil'?"  Boy I wish I had gotten pictures of some of the looks on the other people's faces.
Now that I'm back, I'm pounding on rewriting Roja.  Because I started it so long ago, and then put it on hold, it has some major cracks in the overall framework, and those are what I need to address first.  The story I'm working on, 'Blood, is drawing down too.  I was able to get a bit of it written while in Dallas, but after being a filthy salesman all day, (No joke.  That's what I call myself to half the people I would talk to) I would usually just come back to the hotel room and read 'Battle Royale' for a while until I crashed.  It's good, and reading it makes some parts of the movie make a bit more sense.
Still writing.