Joss Do It

I love a well-told tale. One of the reason that I still unabashedly recommend Patrick Rothfuss and his two novels to people is because Rothfuss knows how to tell a good story. Not only that, but he loves to tell stories. Almost every question he answers in interviews comes in the form of a story. He's supped full of the bardic tradition and it exudes from him like an odoriferous wave of narrative--I would imagine. I haven't met him in person, so I can't say for certain. As an addendum, I would like to point out that the particulars of an odoriferous wave of narrative and what that would smell like are beyond my experience, though I imagine it would entail nutmeg somehow. That just seems how it ought to be.

Anyway, this essay isn't about Rothfuss. It's about how he got so good at stories: It was by watching Joss Whedon. You can learn all about Rothfuss' conversion story, but what he doesn't really go into detail with that post is why Whedon is so gorram good at what he does.

I'll attempt an explanation, acknowledging two things right up front: One, I'm not diving into others' analyses about the director/writer, nor am I fully versed in Whedon's mechanics, having not finished Dollhouse season 2, hardly any of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, none of Angel, and I've yet to watch Cabin in the Woods. My ruminations come from the incredible narrative successes of Dr. Horrible, Serenity, and Firefly, with a dash of The Avengers because that's good, too. Second point: There are better qualified people to talk about Joss Whedon's abilities, but I'm not relying on those specifically. Instead, I'm shifting through what I know about the work. If you happened to Google "Steven Dowdle's thoughts on Joss Whedon" and came here, I could reiterate a point of view that you've already heard before. If that's the case, then wow, that's a really bizarre search term but, hey, welcome, and also, the universe may be infinite, but human thoughts about Joss Whedon aren't, so there's bound to be some potential double-ups here.

(Also, I realize that Joss Whedon is considered a very progressive writer--lots of strong women doing strong women things--but he's also an imperfect one. He relies on waif-fu and women don't always solve the problems before them by relying on feminine abilities. His feminism could be considered problematic, except that it's a strong step in the right direction and I prefer not to rake people over the coals for failing the Bechdel test when there is so much that's done right in the narrative.)

Cliches

With that out of the way, I'm going to start with the easiest piece of the puzzle: Whedon swims in cliches the way that we walk through air. Yes, that's a mixed metaphor, but it's an essential component of his storytelling. Whether it be cliche or trope, Whedon comprehends and speaks it--completely and thoroughly subverting it as he goes. Basically, when there's a familiar idea or concept, Whedon will spin the cliche around in the least expected way. Bad guy is soliloquizing? Shoot him, rather than let him finish--but put him in body armor so that he can remain a threat.

Even this concept of being aware of cliches in order to subvert them is turned inside out. In an early episode (the first, actually, if I remember correctly) of Dollhouse, the character Echo is programmed with what writers are told from day one to incorporate into all their characters: A flaw. This quirk of writing (to make things interesting) is brought in by Topher, who gives Echo asthma in order to make her more realistic. For a writer, it's a meta-commentary on the tropes of writing, and it turns into an almost disaster as a result.

Ensemble

Certainly one of the more difficult things to do as a writer is to give a fair balance to a large cast of characters. You could argue that one of the flaws with George R.R. Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire is that the ensemble feeling, particularly after the diaspora at the end of book three, is lost. It is exceptionally difficult to give equal attention to multiple characters within a single narrative. Part of what Whedon does so well is demonstrate that equal attention does not mean equal time. 

The Avengers isn't about any one of the superhero team: Instead, it's about the whole team. Watching Black Widow get out of the hostage situation at the beginning of the movie is significant because of what we learn about her. We can figure her out pretty well from the character that's presented there. Thor is more complicated--his world and its interactions with our own are convoluted to say the least--and therefore he has a separate movie and a little more screen time so that we can see why he's involved. Hulk is the opposite: We don't need to know a lot about him, because there isn't much there. In a lot of ways, that's why he's involved with the team in the first place, as it's the only thing that gives him meaning. His previous film doesn't factor into what the audience needs to know for The Avengers.

In fact, I personally think the reason why Age of Ultron was quite a bit less endearing a film comes from two primary issues: The ensemble dissolved into a focus on Tony's hubris (because he has to be the center of every story, even the ones that aren't about him); and the ensemble feeling became forced as a result. 

With that exception aside, one of Whedon's strengths is the ensemble. As a writer, figuring out what needs to be shown/known about a character is one of the crucial aspects of pacing, characterization, and motivation. When a book is dedicated to a single character--say, Katniss Everdeen--then everyone else becomes secondary. When a story is about a group of people, everyone can step forward at the appropriate time.

Firefly is a beautiful example of this, though its truncated existence prevents it from being fully realized. Even though we never get to learn Book's past, it's obvious that he has one--his turn simply hadn't come yet. This sort of elliptical storytelling is so masterful, it's almost as if he learned it somewhere...

Shakespeare

Oh, yeah. Whedon is a genuine Bardolator. There are stories I'm too lazy to look up about how Whedon will call his Hollywood actor friends over for an evening at his house where they do a reader's theater of a Shakespearean play--just because. That's part of his motivation for filming Much Ado About Nothing at his home in Los Angeles a few years back. Shakespeare is woven into almost everything Whedon touches, including a direct quote in Dollhouse and the "Shakespeare in the park" joke in The Avengers. 

If you want to know how to write characters, you study Shakespeare. It's pretty much that simple. Sure, there can be some strange flaws on the masterpieces that Shakespeare wrote, but profound psychological variety and continuity is one of the primary reasons that the Bard is so catholic (with a lowercase C). And any friend of the Bard's a friend of mine, says I.

Conclusion

 Okay, so I don't actually need a heading to let you know it's a conclusion. I got a little carried away.

Sorry.

Anyway, there's a lot more to unpack, but I'm getting sleepy and this has been going on too long anyway. Dialogue, humor, and pacing are other tools that Whedon has mastered, and I feel like I need to watch more of his work in order to improve my own writing. And if you're thinking that there's more you, too, can learn about writing by watching his stuff, I'd encourage you to...

....Joss do it.






I'll see myself out.