Wednesday, March 7, 2012

Against Miracles and Special Effects

                Against Miracles and Special Effects


                Dear reader, please compare and contrast Bullwinkle and Jar Jar Binks. Both are animated cinema characters; both are tall, lumpy doofuses. But they differ in two ways: one is animated by the highest computer technology, but the other is crudely hand-drawn; and one character is loved by fandom, but the other is reviled. Which is which?
                Jar Jar Binks is the high-tech toon, a real joy to look at; but is despised by fans. Bullwinkle is the low-tech toon, visibly slap-dash;  and beloved. But surely this is strange, at least from George Lucas’s point of view. Why does investment in animation technology yield negative returns on customer satisfaction? The fans love special effects; why hate Jar Jar Binks, who is nothing but?
                Because Jar Jar Binks was badly written. He, and his whole movie, had no point, no plot, no sense, and no respect for character, actor, or movie viewer. It is as if all the money spent on Special Effects had to be taken out of the Creative Writing budget; whereas with the Rocky & Bullwinkle Show, it is as if all the money saved on the animation was spent on the writing.
                Let us call this the Bullwinkle-Binks Effect; that there is a tradeoff, in the cinema, between special effects and creative writing. The better the glitz, the worse the words! This is not due to a literal transfer of funds between two departments – though that too happens – but more of an institutional problem.
                The trouble with special effects is that they cost a lot of money, which the investors want back. Therefore further risk, inevitable with creative writing, is unacceptable. The special effects must tell a conventional story. They cheapen the tale, in proportion to the money spent.
                Whereas creative writing is cheap, so it plus cheap animation can take bigger risks; and a story is remembered for what it risked. The worse the look, the better the story it can afford to tell.
                Special effects ruin movies because they break rules, distract audiences, stultify plotting and reward bad writing. Good writing needs no special effects; it is its own special effect. Movies needing special effects have moronic dialog, wooden acting, cardboard characters, stupid plot twists, boring action, senseless violence and repellent values; whereas a well-written tale can be told on a bare stage, and the people will remember it, and beg to hear it again.
                All of these artistic objections to special effects in cinema also apply to miracles in religion. Miracles ruin religious tales the same way that special effects ruin movies; by breaking rules, distracting audiences, and rewarding bad writing. This includes moronic dialog, wooden acting, cardboard characters, stupid plot twists, boring action, senseless violence and repellent values. This is because miracles strain the suspension of disbelief; and so the tale-teller cannot risk telling the truly incredible truths.  So the brighter the miracle, the duller the tale.
                Whereas a good story, well-told told straight from life, can melt a heart of stone.
                If you doubt me, then consider the tale of Jonah. What do the people remember about Jonah? The whale! A big flashy miracle, and that’s all that people remember!
                Who notices that Jonah is a satire of all the other prophets? The world’s worst prophet, he had to be forced, by sea monster if need be, to preach to Nineveh and save it. He wanted it doomed! And when the city is saved, he sees a giant gourd or something grow and wither, and he mourns it. OK, that’s weird. Was the gourd a mushroom cloud, blipping out of existence, thus saving the city to the regret of Jonah, world’s worst prophet? Or maybe it was the mushroom that Jonah took before seeing the mushroom?
                All of this was funny enough, and surely a tip-off to anyone with a clue. Then add to that the whale tale! (A submarine, perhaps?) The capper was the last line, delivered by the Lord:
                “And should I not care for Nineveh, that great city, with more than a hundred and twenty thousand people who cannot tell their right hand from their left—and also many animals?”
                What boffs! Have some pity for 120,000 morons, and their cattle too! A great last line; but who remembers it? Almost nobody! And why? Because of that ridiculous fish story!
                And that is how miracles ruin religion.

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