Violence in Fiction

I’m thinking about the upcoming Joker movie. Frankly, after Heath Ledger’s performance as Joker, I thought nothing else could compare. However, here comes Joaquin Phoenix and the early Oscar buzz. As a former comics collector, I know the variations of Joker’s origin story. This time the treatment is deadly serious, maybe even ponderous and disturbing. This is not Cesar Romero’s campy Joker. You can’t see Phoenix’s portrayal in theatres yet but there’s already plenty said about it already. (This Huffington Post article, for instance.)

Where do violent incels come from?

Though the director insists the story is not political, some critics worry that Joker’s origin story will inspire incels to violence. With mass shootings in the news, I would argue that naming active shooters and giving them the fame they crave does more to inspire others to pick up a gun. A host of societal ills contributes to the violence that plagues us. These are trying times and it’s tempting to look for an easy scapegoat. Art ain’t it.

Eliminate income inequality, enact and enforce gun laws that make sense, reduce poverty and homelessness, act more instead of reacting, power up mental health initiatives, investigate groups that foster hate. That might help. I could go on and on about the roots of violence. Fiction is not on that list. Fiction is not the problem. Reality is. It’s so easy to point at a work of art and say, “Don’t do that. It could hurt people.” It might. It might also provide an escapist fantasy that does no harm. It might even stir some questions and thought that could be helpful.

Did Goodfellas get more people to join the mob? If somebody joined the mafia because of that movie, should no one watch Goodfellas ever again? If this were the 1960s, would the same people concern trolling Joker be condemning comic books? That was a thing. People were very sure comics were a threat to civil society. In reality, they inspired many non-readers to read (which has been shown to increase empathy, by the way). I don’t believe fiction is the problem. Systemic failure on many levels is the problem.

This is not to say that movies and books don’t have effects. Fight Club inspired real fight clubs. Top Gun was a Navy recruitment tool. The question is, do we Nerf the world on the chance that some rando will act on his impulses and kill innocents? What’s the cost-benefit analysis there and where should the chill of self-censorship stop?

The journey of the anti-hero is actually much more interesting to me than that of heroes. I often write about bad versus evil because good versus evil often posits a binary world with fewer shades of grey. I’d rather watch Breaking Bad, Dexter (the early seasons) or Better Call Saul than another police procedural. When those procedurals succeed, it’s often because the heroes embrace the darkness. House was a procedural of sorts and his misanthropy was much more interesting than the solutions he arrived at in the last ten minutes of the show.

I’m not glossing over anything. School shootings are a horror. The latest PSA put out by Sandy Hook Promise made me cry. If you haven’t seen it, prepare yourself.

It’s easy to point to the mass shooter in Colorado who dyed his hair like the Joker and say that the movie is where the danger lies. I don’t think so. I think it’s easy to focus an easy target than explore more complex solutions.

A long time ago I worked on a committee that was supposed to promote freedom of expression. Results, from my point of view, were mixed. There were publishers on the committee who were totally against censorship, or thought they were until the subject matter made them uncomfortable. That’s not how anti-censorship works.

What’s to be done?

The truth is, I’m not exactly sure I understand what critics want. Do they desire a ban on Joker movies or movies like it? There may be some who do. Mainly the commentary seems to take a less extreme tack. I suspect they’re being vague because they don’t want to be seen defending censorship. Instead, they’re indicting art. Are filmmakers supposed to be more careful to…what? I don’t know what they want. They won’t admit to whatever their goal is. To make filmmakers more thoughtful? Of anti-heroes?

The implication seems to be that if a mass shooter blames the movie, the movie will be to blame. That stance infantilizes us all and the net effect, if it worked, would be to make fiction less interesting. I don’t think it would improve our lives. Metalheads may retreat into death metal but that doesn’t make them violent. The Lord of the Rings is epic fantasy that has enthralled many. Has it inspired anyone to pick up a sword? If we could make that connection, what would they have us do? And where does it stop? Banning Eminem lyrics? Banning video of Elvis’s magical dancing hips?

My suggestions

Don’t like it? Don’t watch it. Don’t read it. Don’t listen to it. Don’t let your kids watch, read or listen, either.

Don’t like that other people are making art that makes you uncomfortable? It’s never been easier to become a filmmaker, an author or an artist. Make your stuff. Counter the wave and cancel it out with a wave of your own.

Will someone watch Joker and be inspired to inflict violence on others? If they have the weapons, possibly. I’d focus on denying those people the means to act on their sickness first. Failing that, I guess the question is, is art worth the risk? Worry about who is answering that question for you. You might not have much entertainment to enjoy if some outliers were to have their way.

Four final thoughts

  1. Support and enjoy art you love. Ignore the rest so you don’t give it oxygen. (When I saw the first Joker trailer, I was not enthused. Those think pieces on Joker make me want to see it more, not less.)
  2. Don’t infantilize us all in the hopes of avoiding unlikely violence.
  3. Focus on solving risk factors that are far more likely to lead to carnage.
  4. If you want to have a discussion about making more movies that aren’t sequels to pre-existing franchises, I’m all for that discussion. There are many intellectual properties out there that are fresh and shiny which get pushed aside. Original stories that are less homogenous are more of a financial risk. If you want more interesting and original cinema, patronize more independent films and art cinemas. Voting with your dollar gets the message to the people who give new film ventures a chance.

The Top Three Movies about Writing

We’ve got plenty of movies about superheroes and cops tracking down serial killers. We need more good movies about writing. Here are my top picks (and why)  plus a few runners-up.

Wonder Boys

Wonder Boys is one of my favorite movies. Based on the book by Michael Chabon, Michael Douglas stars as a college professor who can’t seem to bring himself to finish writing a massive manuscript. (The manuscript is called Wonder Boys, too, by the way.)

There are a lot of fun moments in that movie and Toby Maguire is cast perfectly as the weird and aspiring young writer, James Leer.  There’s a great scene where three drunk writers make up fictional histories of fellow bar patrons. I do that, too (the making up part, not the drunk part.) Great characters and intrigue are everywhere.

Reading Wonder Boys, I find the interiority of the main character is interesting in its depth. There’s plenty to admire in Chabon’s imaginative use of language. In one scene, students stand by an open door blowing “bored clouds” of cigarette smoke. I found myself wondering how many editors would cross out that line and sneer in the margin: “bored clouds? Really?” (Typical editors, not all editors. In context, it’s a great line.) 

If a book description includes the phrase, “beautiful language” I’m usually suspect that it will be a literary novel in which nothing much will actually happen. When critics of old felt they had to give a pulp writer any credit, they’d grudgingly observe that the prose was “muscular” or “workmanlike.” (They often used to say sort of thing about Stephen King and Dashiell Hammett.) From the mouths of snobs, they damned fun books and good writing with faint praise. Readers ate it up and couldn’t wait for more. In 
Wonder Boys, Chabon finds the middle ground. The use of language is often innovative but the guy can paint a picture and there’s lots of fun and hijinx going on.

I love the line about James Leer’s second-hand smelly overcoat. I’m going from memory but it goes something like, “Standing nearby you could feel your luck change for the worse.” Beautiful.

I won’t spoil what happens with Professor Grady’s overlong manuscript but it’s memorable if you love books at all.

Finding Forrester

Sean Connery plays the successful recluse whose novel hit huge (like To Kill a Mockingbird huge). He mentors Jamal Wallace, a young writer with promise played by Rob Brown. The student is ready, the master appears. The apprentice writer finds the old man has critiqued his work savagely, exing out page after page in red ink. Jamal has talent and his prose is visceral but needs refinement. 

That’s not the moment that really sticks with me, though. What resonates is a moment when the young man walks home at night past a burning car. Cops slide past in a cruiser, giving Jamal the evil eye. It could have been a throwaway scene but it’s not. Jamal is intelligent, observant and vulnerable.  That one short scene is a nod from the director that connotes: yes, he’s young but his experience of the world is complicated, painful and worthy of being written.

I never had to walk home past a burning car but that hit me hard. In my twenties, I worked in Toronto’s book publishing industry. I was part of an army of underpaid professionals filling editorial positions and working in the sales force.

We were young, often underestimated, underappreciated and sometimes even belittled. I met smart people in that profession but the smart ones weren’t all in charge. The industry valued us only as cheap labor. In one job interview, my prospective boss told me I wouldn’t get to have an opinion for seven to ten years. I told him I may as well go to med school because they’d let me perform cardiothoracic surgery faster than that.

In Finding Forrester, it was nice to see a movie that didn’t undercut the young simply because they’re young. I had lots to say back then but unfortunately, I believed I had to wait. If you’re a writer, don’t wait. Gather experience. Read more. Write now.


As Sean would say, “Punch the keys!”

Runners-up

There are several runners-up for my top three. Throw Mama from the Train stands out, especially when Mama comes up with the crucial word (“sultry”). That’s the moment Billy Crystal, playing the writer frustrated and blocked, decides he’s willing to murder her.

In Bullets Over Broadway, the struggling playwright played by John Cusack gives up. He announces, “I am not a writer!”

It’s devastating. As Cusack walks off-screen into The Future of Abandoned Dreams,  I thought, No! Don’t give up! I was a child when I saw that but I wanted to be a writer. I took his failure personally.

Adaptation is pretty great. Nicholas Cage plays twins with an appropriate level of weirdness. The portrayal of Robert McKee is spot on. Playing the famous writing teacher, Brian Cox gives a blistering speech in which he eschews the notion that a plot point is unbelievable. That’s worth the price of admission. It’s also fun to watch the writer who insisted on no car chases ends up writing about a car chase.

Misery is a good movie but I prefer the book. I read it in fascination because most of the action takes place in one room. King keeps it going and flowing. In several of my books about global apocalyptic conflict, the settings are quite expansive, more like the structure of The Stand. (As in, “Meanwhile in Jakarta…) By comparison, watching Stephen King keep a whole novel to one claustrophobic space is almost a stunt.

I don’t think Barton Fink is a great movie. However, John Goodman screaming, “I’ll show you the life of the mind!” Gold.

Those are the runners-up but the bronze medal goes to…

Stranger Than Fiction


Stranger Than Fiction was good for me in part because of the great character work by Will Ferrell. However, it’s Emma Thompson standing on the desk that makes it for me. She’s imagining stepping out on a ledge and looking down, figuring out what it would be like to feel the wind between her fingers before she leaps to her death.

We don’t have to experience everything nasty in order to write about it. I forget who said that by the time we’ve gone through high school we’ve experienced enough trauma to write for the rest of our lives. Writers observe and imagine. We put ideas through the brain blender, bake it up and, if done well, the fiction souffle rises.

Imagination allows me to write crime thrillers packed with murders. I have rage. I am vindictive. Still, I keep it to the page. Somehow I’ve avoided killing anyone in real life just for the sake of experimentation. The truth is, I think about murdering people in imaginative ways quite a lot. I mean, 
a lot.

Writing novels allows me to make an acceptable living of which my family disapproves. It’s also a healthy and entertaining outlet. I never have to taste prison coffee.


What are your favorite movies about writing? Tell me.

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Elon Musk: Humanity risks ‘summoning a demon’

After a week of illness that kept me on my back, I got out to see Ex Machina. I won’t spoil it for you, but it is a thought-provoking horror movie that will remind you of Skynet becoming self-aware , that Elon Musk quote (above) about the dangerous possibilities of Artificial Intelligence and what monster slavers we could will become when we create convincing sexbots. Musk might not be wrong, but we are also demons. Right now. As you’re reading this.

Mostly, Ex Machina is about how dangerous we are and our place in the continuum of existence. The self-awareness of AI will make you uncomfortably self-conscious of the evil we can do long past the time your popcorn runs out.

I loved the writing. The slow, grim foreboding builds and the villain of the piece is perfect. One thing I really enjoyed was that we got through the entire movie without speaking the word slavery aloud. There are no extra words in the script and it relies on the audience being smart enough to fill in the blanks. That’s kind of rare, isn’t it? Writers are often too deathly afraid of the dough heads in the audience saying, “I don’t get it.”

I also didn’t recognize a single actor. The Hollywood machine pumps out sequels with faces you’ve seen before (and that’s not all bad), but it was refreshing to see something original, intelligent and well…new.

You’ll see Age of Ultron. Make sure you catch Ex Machina, too.

I am almost fully recovered from my illness and I’m looking forward to sending you updates about my next book, a fresh podcast and the latest developments over the next week. Until then, don’t forget to sign up for the newsletter. We’ll talk.

(And, yes, I want to write about AI and cool robots, too!)

Spoilers Enclosed: A review of the movie Transcendence

As I’ve mentioned on Facebook, it seems whoever’s in charge has decided that it’s okay to spoil Game of Thrones immediately. I’m now hypersensitive to the problem of spoilers so, though I won’t get into great detail on the movie Transcendence, I’m going to tell you up front that I plan to spoil it. Perhaps enjoy this review more like a Slate Spoiler Special (a review of a movie you’ve already seen, not one you plan to see.)

So, straight to the problem with Transcendence:

It’s based on a paranoia that is never supported and the stakes are all wrong.

If the very foundation of the film wasn’t immensely flawed, it wouldn’t have been a bad show. I like Johnny Depp. He’s good in this in that he says his lines and doesn’t walk into furniture. (He hardly does any walking at all since mostly he’s on screen and percolating through the net. They sure didn’t give him much to work with in the script.

Sadly, Morgan Freeman plays the dumbest character he has ever played. Here’s the deal: Download a brilliant, dying scientist’s mind into a computer. The photocopy of his consciousness might not be entirely him, but there’s no evidence it isn’t all him.

We’re supposed to be worried it isn’t all Johnny and it might be PINN, the autonomous computer that MIGHT DESTROY THE HUMAN RACE! Except we barely meet PINN before the scientist gets on PINN’s hard drive and there is no sense of menace. PINN isn’t HAL in 2001: A Space Odyssey. It’s as innocuous as Microsoft Word’s paperclip character that popped up to ask, “It look like you’re typing a letter. Can I help?” PINN will open the pod bay door and won’t keep you out of the airlock, Dave, so relax.

Anyway, the ghost in the machine (i.e. Johnny’s character of Will Caster) embraces solar power and starts making the blind see, saving lives and doing good everywhere.

Morgan’s character’s answer to all this good news? A note that tells the dead guy’s wife to run away because…um…well…hm. Because paranoia! Because freedom! Because your dead husband is down in the basement curing cancer with nanotechnology that could save us all! What a jerk!

Making the people he cures of terrible diseases into a slave army (part-time) was supposed to alarm us. However, if the doctor said, “I’m curing your blindness for free but I get to run around in your body, as needed, maybe 10- 20% of the time,” I’d say, “Sure! Thanks! Better than being a debt slave for the rest of my life. That’s a fair exchange! Bring on the nano-tech!”

Skip to the death scene

Dying wife looks up at dying husband (again) and says, “It’s you.”

Meaning: You aren’t the monster we feared.

He answers, “Always was.”

Meaning: I was always Jesus. You’ve killed me again and learned nothing in over 2000 years.

She smiles.

She smiles!? No! She should not be smiling. She should be weeping and begging forgiveness, not only from her dead husband/computer program, but from the human race.

Ah. The human race. What did we win in the end?

Pain. Disease. Weakness. Congratulations, humans! You had a shot at long, healthy lives and hope for the future but you weren’t worthy of the gift. You “win”, ya big dopes! That’s what anti-intellectualism and paranoia and fear of new things gets you. I’d call it a life lesson, but your lives are so short and miserable, who cares? Sure, science guy healed the planet a bit in the end, but we still die hooked up to machines. Whee! We win!

Transcendence needed a lesson from Lawn Mower Man. You don’t make a guy a beneficent god and bring him down. You transform him into a mad, evil god and then you bring him down. Bring down monsters or we’re all doofuses.

And that non sequitur little tag of an ending, so full of nonsense and obfuscation?

I wonder if studio suit thought, Add in some hope for the husband and wife at the end, despite the fact that the anti-virus worked everywhere else. Sure. If we confuse the audience with a vague ending, maybe they’ll forgive us the rest.

We won’t forgive. The point of the movie is, we won’t. We aren’t worthy and we don’t cut anybody else any slack, either.

~ FYI: For a satisfying ending, try my funny crime novel about a Cuban hit man trying to escape the mob. It’s called Bigger Than Jesus. It’s pronounced, “HAY-SOOSE.” As I write this, it’s free on Amazon here.