It's Been a Long Time, Charlie Brown...
Too brain-dead and stressed about the hordes of money recently spent on Christmas Humbug, I couldn’t even focus on the Kim Harrison short story book I’ve been reading.
Visions of credit card bills danced through my head, sending courses of panic right through my bed. So I closed the book, made some hot chocolate, and turned on the DVD instead.
Glad I did. “Stranger Than Fiction” left me thinking and smiling, which is always a blessing.
The obvious theme – which came first, art or life; does art imitate life or does art create life? – is intriguing enough but either I’m not deep enough to resolve the question or it’s really just a matter of opinion. And the movie offers so many other life themes to ponder that the art vs. life questions seems rather silly, except to artist type people.
The movie will resonate with writers via Emma Thompson’s character, who is the stereotypical self-absorbed introvert living and breathing her characters. Her book, her creation, is all that matters until she realizes the effect her book is having on a real human being. Only then does she really feel, really come to life as a human, just as she had brought her character to life from his mundane existence. This change in her affects her book’s ending, naturally, much to the disappointment of her biggest fan, an equally self-absorbed literature professor who is the symbol of the publishing industry, in my opinion. Sure, Cold Mountain is literary genius, but what if Frazier had let Inman live? I shall tell you. The novel still would have been a bestseller but literary critics would have scoffed just a little, labeling it a glorified romance novel.
“Stranger Than Fiction” also appeals to a writer/artist in its evaluation of the writing process – is the author Creator or is she a vessel serving the character? In the movie, the author knows that her character is destined to die – she just doesn’t know how to kill him. She ponders contrivance after contrivance to slaughter Harold Crick while poor Harold, a very real person, tries to evade his fate. But it’s only until the author stops trying to kill him that his death comes to her. If she let the character decide his fate in the first place, instead of playing God, she wouldn’t have writer’s block.
Now, forget the writing process for a while and look at the story from Harold’s perspective. Harold, like most of us poor sods, is in a rut, neither happy nor sad, living but not alive, and unremarkable but a pretty decent human being. When he realizes that he is a puppet to an author, however, he suddenly develops free will. Frantic to find his creator to stop his imminent death, he also begins to come alive. He becomes brave, learning to play the guitar and bringing his crush a gift. He shows his true self. He flourishes, and then he meets his maker.
When the author meets Harold, her world view shifts. She sees herself as a murderer, yet clearly, her story is best served if Harold dies. Instead, she intervenes, intentionally playing God, changing Harold’s fate.
The literature professor would rather sacrifice the man to save the story. To him, the author’s book no longer qualifies as literature. It is merely “okay.” But as a human, the author is redeemed. Her life’s work is substandard by the world’s standards, but she choose to uplift her fellow human, refusing to kill a source of the world’s joy, thus uplifting her own soul.
And then, there’s the lesson of never judging a book by its cover, which is perhaps the most important theme in the movie. The object of Harold’s affection, like the viewer, sees Harold as a boring, rigid, slightly odd – a disposable human. But as we see Harold’s oddness as a shell hiding his awkwardness and kind intentions, we begin to feel compassionate toward him and as he begins to break his shell, we celebrate that such a man, who only wants to spread joy, exists. This boring everyday accountant is a true hero of humanity.
It’s just a good story. Watch it. It’s the “It’s a Wonderful Life” for Generation X.
On My Nightstand: Still delaying the inevitable end of Harry Potter. Just finished Haruki Murakami’s Blind Woman, Sleeping Willow and Stephen King’s The Green Mile. Currently reading Kim Harrison’s Two Ghosts for Sister Rachel and Karen Marie Moning’s Darkfever. All are highly recommended.
On My iPod: ‘Tis the season. All Christmas, all the time. Loreena McKennitt and New England Christmastide are my favorites along with the classic Waitresses “Christmas Wrapping” and an Oi! version of “White Christmas.” Then there’s Bing. Sigh. So hot.
Recommended Movies: “Waitress.” Another joy of life movie. Warning: don’t watch if you are trying to lose weight. Also, while you are trimming your tree, pop in "Nightmare Before Christmas" -- I mean, why wouldn't you?
Visions of credit card bills danced through my head, sending courses of panic right through my bed. So I closed the book, made some hot chocolate, and turned on the DVD instead.
Glad I did. “Stranger Than Fiction” left me thinking and smiling, which is always a blessing.
The obvious theme – which came first, art or life; does art imitate life or does art create life? – is intriguing enough but either I’m not deep enough to resolve the question or it’s really just a matter of opinion. And the movie offers so many other life themes to ponder that the art vs. life questions seems rather silly, except to artist type people.
The movie will resonate with writers via Emma Thompson’s character, who is the stereotypical self-absorbed introvert living and breathing her characters. Her book, her creation, is all that matters until she realizes the effect her book is having on a real human being. Only then does she really feel, really come to life as a human, just as she had brought her character to life from his mundane existence. This change in her affects her book’s ending, naturally, much to the disappointment of her biggest fan, an equally self-absorbed literature professor who is the symbol of the publishing industry, in my opinion. Sure, Cold Mountain is literary genius, but what if Frazier had let Inman live? I shall tell you. The novel still would have been a bestseller but literary critics would have scoffed just a little, labeling it a glorified romance novel.
“Stranger Than Fiction” also appeals to a writer/artist in its evaluation of the writing process – is the author Creator or is she a vessel serving the character? In the movie, the author knows that her character is destined to die – she just doesn’t know how to kill him. She ponders contrivance after contrivance to slaughter Harold Crick while poor Harold, a very real person, tries to evade his fate. But it’s only until the author stops trying to kill him that his death comes to her. If she let the character decide his fate in the first place, instead of playing God, she wouldn’t have writer’s block.
Now, forget the writing process for a while and look at the story from Harold’s perspective. Harold, like most of us poor sods, is in a rut, neither happy nor sad, living but not alive, and unremarkable but a pretty decent human being. When he realizes that he is a puppet to an author, however, he suddenly develops free will. Frantic to find his creator to stop his imminent death, he also begins to come alive. He becomes brave, learning to play the guitar and bringing his crush a gift. He shows his true self. He flourishes, and then he meets his maker.
When the author meets Harold, her world view shifts. She sees herself as a murderer, yet clearly, her story is best served if Harold dies. Instead, she intervenes, intentionally playing God, changing Harold’s fate.
The literature professor would rather sacrifice the man to save the story. To him, the author’s book no longer qualifies as literature. It is merely “okay.” But as a human, the author is redeemed. Her life’s work is substandard by the world’s standards, but she choose to uplift her fellow human, refusing to kill a source of the world’s joy, thus uplifting her own soul.
And then, there’s the lesson of never judging a book by its cover, which is perhaps the most important theme in the movie. The object of Harold’s affection, like the viewer, sees Harold as a boring, rigid, slightly odd – a disposable human. But as we see Harold’s oddness as a shell hiding his awkwardness and kind intentions, we begin to feel compassionate toward him and as he begins to break his shell, we celebrate that such a man, who only wants to spread joy, exists. This boring everyday accountant is a true hero of humanity.
It’s just a good story. Watch it. It’s the “It’s a Wonderful Life” for Generation X.
On My Nightstand: Still delaying the inevitable end of Harry Potter. Just finished Haruki Murakami’s Blind Woman, Sleeping Willow and Stephen King’s The Green Mile. Currently reading Kim Harrison’s Two Ghosts for Sister Rachel and Karen Marie Moning’s Darkfever. All are highly recommended.
On My iPod: ‘Tis the season. All Christmas, all the time. Loreena McKennitt and New England Christmastide are my favorites along with the classic Waitresses “Christmas Wrapping” and an Oi! version of “White Christmas.” Then there’s Bing. Sigh. So hot.
Recommended Movies: “Waitress.” Another joy of life movie. Warning: don’t watch if you are trying to lose weight. Also, while you are trimming your tree, pop in "Nightmare Before Christmas" -- I mean, why wouldn't you?
Labels: Stranger Than Fiction
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