Night Drive Through Ketchum's Joyride

Ever since I started driving as a teenager, I used my car as a vehicle for thinking.  If I had a problem late at night, go for a ride.  By the time I got back home, I'd have an answer.  Maybe not always the right answer, but an answer which was usually better than when I started.  While I didn't particularly like this book (as I have previously discussed I'm a fan of subtlety and this story wasn't), Jack Ketchum in Joyride employs the same tactic, using his characters as a proverbial night drive.  His characters work through issues and explore ideas that aren't necessarily plot appropriate but they do reveal a lot about the characters, and most likely, Ketchum as well.

Susan, at the beginning of the novel is thinking of Wayne, and how sad and lonely his life must be.  She believes he is depressed over the loss of his mother.  She has this thought, "It occurred to her that life was only measured time, really, and you were the only measure.  Like people were all a bunch of clocks each set to a different time, each fatally winding down" (Ketchum 16).  What a beautiful image and turn of phrase.  People as clocks, tick-tocking through life until they eventually stop.  It's not a necessary thought to the novel.  It does play into death which the novel deals with heavily but it's a thought provoking sentiment.  It gets the reader thinking about life off the page.  Time is a sensitive issue to many people.  Not enough of it, too much, not enough left, etc.  Time is an obsession.  And this example exposes that and reveals it for it is.  Running out at all times.

When Lee and Carole are in the car with Wayne, Lee recalls parts of his past.  He thinks of the Summer of Love, a summer in 1967 Boston where "flower power" was in full swing and hippies were going to change the world with love.  He recognizes that they lost this war of peace and it had changed him.  His optimism for humanity faded and he filled that void with drugs and women.  He stopped teaching and started selling.  And then he says, "The problem was that he'd found out along the way, through a pretty long string of lovers, that you could burn out on passion and romance the same way you could burn out on bad dope or optimism or any other damn thing.  It happened.  And once it happened it was forever.  So that then, even when something undisputedly good came along, you maintained a kind of reserve" (Ketchum 94).

Wow.

Talk about exploring human behavior and understanding.  Dr. Al once posed us the question at orientation: what can we do, as popular fiction writers, to explore the emotional connection between reader and author?  If only I'd had the above quote as an answer.  Ketchum in a very short amount of words doesn't just sum up Lee's character, he also breaks down the fourth wall.  It's a lecture of human consciousness that doesn't read like one.  He opens up a dialogue about idealism and the human spirit that ends with Lee recognizing he doesn't have anything to lose because he's already lost it.

What Ketchum is doing is reminiscent of what I posted last time regarding what Alan Moore said about The Killing Joke.  That stories (or any form of art) should connect people on an emotional level.  Moore says his story failed because it didn't say anything interesting.  It didn't pose any new ideas or ideologies that would make people think.  It wasn't relatable.  Moore argues (and I agree) that art is not face value.  It's deep and poses deep questions on an individual level.  And that is what Ketchum is doing.  Ketchum's novel is about a mass murdering car ride.  That isn't exactly relatable but the characters are.  They live and breathe as all characters should.  But they also pose questions to themselves that actual people want the answers to.  And it's presented so subtly it's as if the characters are helping the reader answer them.

That's not just popular fiction.  That's art.

"If I I'm going to have a past, I prefer it to be multiple choice!"

Alan Moore's small contribution to DC Comic's Batman universe, Batman: The Killing Joke, is just another one of Moore's works that refuses to be ignored.  His original, non-canonical one-shot from 1988 became so popular it became canon, only adding to Moore's impressive body of work.  His decision to make Deborah (Batgirl) a paraplegic at the hands of Joker, led DC to adapt Batgirl's character into Oracle, a hacker who still fights crime even from a wheelchair.  Deborah's second secret identity has been a staple in the Batman until she was cured of her paralysis in 2011.  A small contribution in light of all that Batman has to offer, but one that has influence much,  causing ripple effects in the franchise that can still be felt today.  

I was particularly impressed with Moore's exposing of Batman and Joker's duality.  Not in themselves, but in each other.  Moore has said that Batman and the Joker are mirror images of each other.  He explores this by Joker repeating that one sane man can become insane, as he did, with just "one bad day."  We're given a backstory on Joker (not sure if he's exactly a reliable narrator, but the story of Jack and his attempt to support his wife and unborn child as a comedian carved out a piece of the Batman universe that few have tackled), and we see how his nihilistic philosophy came to be.  Joker even speculates that Batman must've suffered from a "one bad day" experience as well and that is why he is the way he is.  Is he hot or cold?  Joker uses Commissioner Gordon as a guinea pig to test this worldview.  After shooting and paralyzing Gordon's daughter, he imprisons Gordon in a hedonistic fun house where nude images of his wounded daughter are displayed in an attempt to break his spirit.  And ultimately, Gordon defies him, refusing to break and revealing the overall theme of the piece that people are strong and can withstand trauma in hopes for a greater good.   

But what I found to be even more impressive with this work was Moore's commentary on it.  Ever since it's publication, Moore has been critical of his contribution to Batman.  In the 2003 edition of The Extraordinary Works of Alan Moore, Moore stated, "[Batman: The Killing Joke] was clumsy, misjudged and had no real human importance. It was just about a couple of licensed DC characters that didn't really relate to the real world in any way."  

Interesting.  Overly critical perhaps, but profound all the same.   

This artistic vision that Moore has (or lack their of according to him), which I would consider to be anything expressed to reach people and connect to a pure, human experience, is relevant to popular genre writing as it is often the basis for the argument of whether popular fiction is considered "literature" in the proper sense of the word, or just pieces of fiction in the lowest form of the word.  These people, mostly literati, argue that popular fiction writers (more so in sci-fi/fantasy/horror genres) in creating fanciful worlds and fantastical situations for their stories, lose sight of what art is supposed to do: connect the reader to a truly unique, human experience, not just spin a tale.  They quip that the fanciful elements of popular genres are only a distraction, distancing the relationship of the work and reader.  It's a high brow sentiment but the argument undoubtably has merit.  But the argument can also go both ways.  Pop fiction writers and critics (and fans) argue that literary works are often too focused on artistry, whether that be theme or symbolism, and because of this the plot and characters suffer and are left in the background which makes the experience a dull one.  

So, where would you draw the line?  Where is the line drawn between works of guilty pleasures and works of art?

This question seems important, and one that is not nearly asked enough.  I feel like there is an attitude from popular writers that literary works are "snooty," and because of that they are somehow lesser.  Meanwhile, the literati argue that popular genre works are silly children's stories.  But any that believe this, on both sides, are ignorant.  It is not "snooty" or arrogant to attempt to transcend the page and reach people on a higher level as the Great American Novelist attempts to do.  Just as it is not silly to also attempt this artistic vision but in the sky on the back of a dragon.  If a human connection is made, the work is art of the only sense of the word.    

Think of many of your favorite works that made you want to be a popular genre writer.  For me, it was Robert Jordan's The Wheel of Time, which whether you love it or hate it, does transcend the page into a unique, human experience.  Would I love the series just as much if I were to cut out all of the battles, and magic, and fantastical lands?  No I wouldn't because I enjoy fantastical elements in stories.  But even if I did, I would still be able to connect to it.  Which is a valuable lesson in itself.  We, as popular writers, can give the readers the best of both worlds.  We can give them worlds and powers that cannot exist in our reality.  We can make them the champion of a kingdom with only the turn of the page.  But I agree with Moore, that that should only add to the essential human experience that must exist first and foremost.  This doesn't change no matter the time period, the world, the race, the situation; the connection between reader and the piece should be one and the same. 

This makes me think of my own writing.  Of course all writers attempt to connect with readers.  That's why we read, right?  To embody another person for a few hundred pages, experience what they experience, triumph in what they triumph.  But what about after that?  Can we make readers take away a truly unique, human experience?  Even if that human experience is set on an alien planet?  That's not to say is it realistic.  Realism must be achieved for even a story to work on its basest level.  I mean, are we trying to connect to people and give them an experience that they can only get when reading your book?  Do we all attempt this, or do we simply turn up our noses and just give them a show?  

Lucky Number Se7en

Horror in cinema has captured the imagination, and attention, of viewers for generations.  From the natural to the supernatural, movies that invoke fear are among the most memorable of the medium’s history.  But there is a very wide margin between those works and ‘all the rest.’  I don’t think I’ve ever seen a horror movie and thought it was ‘pretty good’ or ‘so so.’  It was either great or it wasn’t.  Why is that?  What makes a horror film great?

Psycho killer movies are usually not among great horror films.  This subgenre has a reputation of being largely trite, formulaic, and predictable.  And psycho killer films that involve a genius killer who leaves clues for law enforcement to follow can be more intriguing than your typical slasher flick, still are more often than not unremarkable.  Yet David Fincher’s Se7en stands out as remarkable, even a classic some might say.  Why?  The tropes listed above are all present in Se7en and some (hot-head rookie cop bites off more than he can chew when he partners with veteran cop who on his last day before retirement takes on the case that ends up being the biggest case of his life.  Whew), yet it stands out as a classic.  So what makes Se7en better than contemporary titles such as The Bone Collector or the Saw series?  Those films employ many of the same tropes, themes, and elements, yet one is better than the others.  What makes this one better? And what does that say about horror?

The biggest factor I believe is theme.  Due to the historical importance and western dominance of Christianity in the last millennia, Judeo-Christian myths are among the most recognizable in the world.  And because of this, many great works of literature either influenced or fueled the myths, and many of those works fuel this film as well.  The seven cardinal, or deadly, sins trace their roots back to early Christianity but were popularized in Dante Alighieri’s Divine Comedy, a masterpiece of western literature, and more importantly, at least for the film’s success, is a story people are familiar with and interested in.  I would be much more inclined to see a movie regarding the seven deadly sins than a movie about the Arishadvarga passions (Hindu) even though both theologies represent the same thing.  So a movie that explores some of Judeo-Christian’s less, well, Christian side is an appeal.  And the religious subject matter only strengthens the believability of the film as well.  Religious zealotry is terrifying on its own and when it’s combined with murder, especially ritualistic murder in an effort to teach God’s will, is only more terrifying. 

Another factor is atmosphere.  While the atmosphere of Se7en is similar to those of many horror films, it still deserves noting.  Se7en is gritty.  The setting is of the urban underbelly we don’t want to believe exists.  The color pallet is for the large part gray.  It rains most of the film with the exception of the last scene.  Fincher is using setting to reflect what is happening in the plot to great effect.  What would Se7en be like in a sunny suburb?  Probably not as remarkable I can tell you that. 

Another is cast.  The cast, while star studded, deserves noting though I feel like it makes actually little difference.  Brad Pitt, Morgan Freeman, and Gwyneth Paltrow, play their characters well though are not very memorable (to no fault of their performance, just unremarkable scripting).  Kevin Spacey on the other hand, does a fantastic job as the almost cameo he has as the killer.  Only on screen for fifteen or twenty minutes, Spacey brings the killings to life and really sells the entire picture in a few short lines.

Which brings us to the last factor, and I believe one of the most memorable.  I saved THE END for the end.  The climactic climax of Se7en turns the tropes upside down and really sets it apart from the others.  Spacey’s character, Jon Doe’s, explanation of the murders and what his plan has been the entire time makes the movie live and breathe.  The ninety minutes or so of the film start to feel a little more rounded and it really brings out what happens off screen. 

And it’s with each one of these factors working well together that makes Se7en stand out as a modern classic for other horror films in the same subgenre emulate and aspire to.