As I reflect back on O Brother while writing my Response paper, I continue to appreciate the combination of that classic Coen-brother humor and the rather somber backdrop of the Depression days in the dusty American South that lends something of a tragic quality to the film.
That being said, I never did truly click with Everett. He was too incompetent, too narcissistic, too self-prioritizing to deserve real respect. He is however, thoroughly entertaining, and when I think of the initial purpose of the Odyssey as an orally presented song or poem with the purpose of entertaining an audience, I feel friendlier toward Joel and Ethan for distorting the traditional brooding, clever Odysseus prototype to meet that goal in a modern sense.
As an adaptation of the Odyssey, O Brother walk a fine line between retelling and departing from Homer's narrative entirely, and I do think it is a successful tightrope act. There is much room for interpretation when contrasting the poem with the movie, and I think this lack of definitive parallels (in many cases) makes the relationship between the two works all the more interesting.
I won't elaborate too much on this point, as it would spoil the content of my essay, but I will draw one parallel that I find intriguing. Athena, in The Odyssey, plays a major role, but in the film there isn't a character that emerges as a clear Athena figure. So who makes Everett feel more confident, look better? Who is ever-present and godly--an unattainable and immortal figure? Could it be a certain Dapper Dan? We see that lovely shot near the end of the film with the flood swirling hundreds of tins of Dan through the water in something of an epic display. Athena restoring peace to the men of Ithaca? Or just yet one more tongue in cheek joke by the Coen brothers?
Wednesday, February 25, 2015
Friday, February 6, 2015
An Incomplete and Somewhat Pretentious Treatise on Heroism
As our discussions in this class have progressed, I have established a number of speculations on the nature of heroism. I found our initial analysis of what constituted heroic behavior to be engaging while still being far from comprehensive. As such, it seems only fitting to preface Odyssey-specific observations with some thoughts on heroism at large.
Heroism is so tightly linked to morality that any discussion of the former would be woefully incomplete without touching upon the latter. The relationship between these two concepts itself is straightforward: the hero is s/he who upholds the side of moral virtue in the face of wrong/unjust/evil forces. (I shall, for the purposes of this post, be accepting this as a true statement without any further need of unpacking. If you disagree with it, comment and let me know.) Any uncertainty in a heroic analysis comes from distinctions within either a discussion of morality, or a discussion of heroism.
Few people are willing to hitch their wagon to a theory of moral objectivity, but most are still comfortable relying on intuition to make concrete judgments of right and wrong. Was the nameless kidnapper in "Victory Lap" wrong to abduct Allison with the intention of performing unsavory actions upon her? I'd venture that most of us would agree yes--and we're all happy to pass this judgment on him without evaluating not only why it is we don't question this judgment, but how we might extend this rationale to create at least a somewhat more systematic approach to moral conclusions. Murder is wrong. Incest is wrong. The average human will accept these statements as factual. My friends will roll their eyes here as I satisfy my self-imposed obligation to bring to the table a discussion of relative morality. I cannot ignore the relativism that is so prevalent in the postmodern thinking we all, to some extent, take for granted. Were one to adopt nihilism and reject morality entirely, the idea of a hero becomes very different--if it does not become entirely obsolete. Should one opt for a less extreme position as a moral relativist, it would follow that one's notion of heroism is as subjective as one's sense of morality.
Is there a heroic fact of the matter? Does heroism allow room for subjectivity? Campbell seemed to think so--disregarding the ultimate end of an individual's journey or deeds in favor of the hero's motivations and internal monologue. Here, we run a little further into the grey area of heroism. My first response to Campbell's remark was to think of specific situations that contradict his assertion. And so, picture a Nazi prison guard. Generally, we find devotion to a cause to be a commendable quality in an individual, and as far as heroic behaviors go, sacrificing one's personal interests for the betterment of the cause and its ideals is not unheard of. But can we generalize? Can we include vigilantes, Nazis, crusaders, jihadis... in our definition of a hero? In their own minds, they may be. They might even undergo the same mental and emotional trials a "true" hero would. But we shrink away from bestowing upon them this label. Why? Is it because, perhaps in spite of our natural tendency for skepticism, that we really do think there are moral truths? That, because the vigilante or the crusader or the Nazi is violating or has violated these objective moral standards, they are simply not able to be labeled a hero?
Of course, when we see a case of true heroism, we do not hesitate to identify it. A hero elevates morality over social convention, and potentially even the law itself. (And so we cannot, for instance, equate morality with a legal system or code. The people who hid Jews during the holocaust were very much in violation of their country's laws, but we can agree they are heroes.) A hero pursues the good at all costs. Similarly, true evil is easily identifiable. There are villains whose actions are so contrary to our moral sensibilities--that they deserve the label "villain" they leave no room for doubt.
But what of the grey areas? What of vigilantism, what of insanity, what of the relationship between action and intention? In an attempt to better illustrate some of these questions, I have devised here a schematic of four characteristics, which may be combined as follows:
Culpable-Wrong: This category consists of individuals who may have the correct internal monologue. They may be sacrificing their own interests, exhibiting courage, or acting in the name of some greater good, but they are ultimately not heroes because their actions are not actually right. The vigilante, the Nazi, the crusader, the jihadi, the schizophrenic. They may have heroic qualities, but their morality is questionable. While they intend to do right (and perhaps even think that they are), they are, in fact, not. Conclusion: not really heroes.
Non-culpable-Right: I call this category the "accidental hero" category or perhaps, in some instances, the "fake hero" category. (Already this is inaccurate, as no one in this category is, in fact, a hero, and the whole point of this discussion is to prove, or at least to convince you, that there is an objective standard of heroism. Excuse the faulty naming--it is an attempt at uniformity.) These individuals may perform acts that seem heroic, but lack the requisite intention. One oddly specific case-in-point: A man (let's call him Cal) walked to his friend's house with a gun, intending to kill his friend (who we shall refer to as Sal). Cal does not know this, but Sal had his own gun, and had formed a plan to go on a rampage through the neighborhood, killing many people, including his buddy Cal. As Sal closes his front door behind him, he is shot and killed by Cal. Cal has just saved himself and many others from a brutal end, but is he a hero? No. Why? Because he set out only with the intention of murdering his friend. He intended to carry out an action that was wrong--that it ultimately was the right thing to do doesn't change the fact that he is not culpable for the goodness (read as heroism) in his action. Conclusion: also not heroes.
Non-culpable-Wrong: The villains. They both intend to do wrong/evil, and realize that intention.
What do you think?
Heroism is so tightly linked to morality that any discussion of the former would be woefully incomplete without touching upon the latter. The relationship between these two concepts itself is straightforward: the hero is s/he who upholds the side of moral virtue in the face of wrong/unjust/evil forces. (I shall, for the purposes of this post, be accepting this as a true statement without any further need of unpacking. If you disagree with it, comment and let me know.) Any uncertainty in a heroic analysis comes from distinctions within either a discussion of morality, or a discussion of heroism.
Few people are willing to hitch their wagon to a theory of moral objectivity, but most are still comfortable relying on intuition to make concrete judgments of right and wrong. Was the nameless kidnapper in "Victory Lap" wrong to abduct Allison with the intention of performing unsavory actions upon her? I'd venture that most of us would agree yes--and we're all happy to pass this judgment on him without evaluating not only why it is we don't question this judgment, but how we might extend this rationale to create at least a somewhat more systematic approach to moral conclusions. Murder is wrong. Incest is wrong. The average human will accept these statements as factual. My friends will roll their eyes here as I satisfy my self-imposed obligation to bring to the table a discussion of relative morality. I cannot ignore the relativism that is so prevalent in the postmodern thinking we all, to some extent, take for granted. Were one to adopt nihilism and reject morality entirely, the idea of a hero becomes very different--if it does not become entirely obsolete. Should one opt for a less extreme position as a moral relativist, it would follow that one's notion of heroism is as subjective as one's sense of morality.
Is there a heroic fact of the matter? Does heroism allow room for subjectivity? Campbell seemed to think so--disregarding the ultimate end of an individual's journey or deeds in favor of the hero's motivations and internal monologue. Here, we run a little further into the grey area of heroism. My first response to Campbell's remark was to think of specific situations that contradict his assertion. And so, picture a Nazi prison guard. Generally, we find devotion to a cause to be a commendable quality in an individual, and as far as heroic behaviors go, sacrificing one's personal interests for the betterment of the cause and its ideals is not unheard of. But can we generalize? Can we include vigilantes, Nazis, crusaders, jihadis... in our definition of a hero? In their own minds, they may be. They might even undergo the same mental and emotional trials a "true" hero would. But we shrink away from bestowing upon them this label. Why? Is it because, perhaps in spite of our natural tendency for skepticism, that we really do think there are moral truths? That, because the vigilante or the crusader or the Nazi is violating or has violated these objective moral standards, they are simply not able to be labeled a hero?
Of course, when we see a case of true heroism, we do not hesitate to identify it. A hero elevates morality over social convention, and potentially even the law itself. (And so we cannot, for instance, equate morality with a legal system or code. The people who hid Jews during the holocaust were very much in violation of their country's laws, but we can agree they are heroes.) A hero pursues the good at all costs. Similarly, true evil is easily identifiable. There are villains whose actions are so contrary to our moral sensibilities--that they deserve the label "villain" they leave no room for doubt.
But what of the grey areas? What of vigilantism, what of insanity, what of the relationship between action and intention? In an attempt to better illustrate some of these questions, I have devised here a schematic of four characteristics, which may be combined as follows:
Culpable-Right: This category houses the true heroes. These individuals aware that their actions' are right actions (and so are culpable). Additionally, the actions must, in fact, be objectively right.
Non-culpable-Right: I call this category the "accidental hero" category or perhaps, in some instances, the "fake hero" category. (Already this is inaccurate, as no one in this category is, in fact, a hero, and the whole point of this discussion is to prove, or at least to convince you, that there is an objective standard of heroism. Excuse the faulty naming--it is an attempt at uniformity.) These individuals may perform acts that seem heroic, but lack the requisite intention. One oddly specific case-in-point: A man (let's call him Cal) walked to his friend's house with a gun, intending to kill his friend (who we shall refer to as Sal). Cal does not know this, but Sal had his own gun, and had formed a plan to go on a rampage through the neighborhood, killing many people, including his buddy Cal. As Sal closes his front door behind him, he is shot and killed by Cal. Cal has just saved himself and many others from a brutal end, but is he a hero? No. Why? Because he set out only with the intention of murdering his friend. He intended to carry out an action that was wrong--that it ultimately was the right thing to do doesn't change the fact that he is not culpable for the goodness (read as heroism) in his action. Conclusion: also not heroes.
Non-culpable-Wrong: The villains. They both intend to do wrong/evil, and realize that intention.
What do you think?
Thursday, February 5, 2015
One guilty confession, infinite imaginary invitations, and a single thinly-veiled apology
So, my numerous and loyal readers, I must confess to you that I have sinned.
I have neglected to take the many pages of notes and observations in my notebook and place them here on this online pedestal of literary discussion so that you might feast your hungry eyes. In fact, I have even written multiple drafts of multiple posts and, perhaps in an unfortunate endeavor to satisfy my perfectionism, retained them as unpublished ghosts. However, fear not: there will indeed be food for thought here shortly--an entire banquet's-full in fact, and I cordially invite each and every one of you (and especially you, Mr. Mitchell, should you too be reading) here for a magnificent feast. Food for thought in not one, not two, but most likely three courses shall be served in quick succession, beginning shortly. You have the hostess' permission to behave as a mob of suitors on this one occasion.
I have neglected to take the many pages of notes and observations in my notebook and place them here on this online pedestal of literary discussion so that you might feast your hungry eyes. In fact, I have even written multiple drafts of multiple posts and, perhaps in an unfortunate endeavor to satisfy my perfectionism, retained them as unpublished ghosts. However, fear not: there will indeed be food for thought here shortly--an entire banquet's-full in fact, and I cordially invite each and every one of you (and especially you, Mr. Mitchell, should you too be reading) here for a magnificent feast. Food for thought in not one, not two, but most likely three courses shall be served in quick succession, beginning shortly. You have the hostess' permission to behave as a mob of suitors on this one occasion.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)