Another Dish of Universal Theme Served Up by Uncle Stevie: Analyzing IT

 

Once again Stephen King mines our worst fears and serves them back up to us broiled and sauteed in a stew of universal themes. Fear and belonging. Are there two things more universal to humankind? We are both fearful and fearless, perhaps most of all, when we are kids. IT justifies those childhood fears innate in us all and shows us what happens when we try to avoid dealing with them head on. IT teaches us that fear, when ignored, manifests into real monsters that wreak havoc into adulthood. 

IT also showcases how adults create these fears for us as kids then repeatedly let us down until we become the adult letting ourselves down. The universal theme buzzer is going off again! But we can’t fight childhood demons alone. Hence the Losers Club. Found family and strength in numbers is prevalent in IT. Another thematic reason this novel and movies became blockbusters. 

The haunted house, that is merely the opening act for the true horrors roiling below, systematically separates the Losers because they are stronger together. As kids we seem to instinctively know this truth. We don’t split up. We don’t leave a friend behind. We’re safe together and dead meat alone. But this instinct is too easily forgotten as we grow older and society makes us less comfortable with our vulnerability and the reality of our fears. So, as adults, we stuff fear down until it manifests into a demented, shark-toothed figment of our imaginations. 

The absurdity of our fears is pointed at with the borderline comical ghosts and monsters that attack the Losers. These clowns, talking spider heads, and ghouls feel even more ridiculous when attacking the adult versions of the characters, which represents how nonsensical it is to keep running from your childhood fears as a grown ass adult. One could easily look at these characters and say “Just get some therapy, man.” But once again King writes their story in a way that relinquishes them (and us) from taking responsibility. 

With IT, King is giving us another excuse for our monstrous side. It’s not smalltown small-mindedness or bigotry or racism or sexism. It’s “the entity” driving us to any number of horrific manifestations of the dark side of humanity. Rest assured, it’s not a fatal flaw in the very fabric of humanity itself. It’s the entity making the people of Derry be monsters to each other…once every 27 years. That recurrence cycle seems as arbitrary as the bullying and hate crimes and abuse that we see infecting  basically everyone in Derry.  

Now, I'm not hating on King for giving his readers what they want. They want to believe there's a preternatural excuse for the terrible things in the world. That speculation is comforting. I get it. That said, IT does seem to imply that our fear is what feeds the monstrosity. So, what came first? The chicken or the egg? The monster or our capacity for violence? Does being a victim make us weak or is weakness what makes us violent?

Setting aside the dubious “beaver trapping” origins of Derry, that seem to distastefully wink at the child orgy scene in the novel that was conveniently left out of the movies, and King’s repetitive usage of “indian” mysticism as explanation for the inexplicable, IT is an obvious fight against fear. The most primal of stakes. Fear is what makes us human, what makes us all the same. And what makes us buy the same novels and movies. If only we could learn to fight against our individual fears together. Only then will the losers win and our feet can be safely grounded. Until that day of courage in the face of fear we’ll keep on floating. 

xo

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I Second that Emotion: Analyzing Rambo: First Blood

Who knew breaking down in tears (and sometimes defecation) made a tough guy tougher? David Morrell, that's who. Millions of viewers were shocked and deeply affected by tough-guy Stallone executing his heart-wrenching monologue at the end of the movie version of Rambo: First Blood. In the novel, however, that emotional turmoil is more gradually developed throughout the story. The blockbuster magic that Morrell accomplishes in the novel is that he gives "tough guys" permission to feel. 

But there's a lot to unpack with this novel and its infamous movie adaptation. The most notable difference between the novel and the movie version of First Blood to me is Rambo’s good guy designation. In the movie version, there’s no question we should be rooting for Rambo. He’s been booted out of town for no good reason then hunted down like a wild animal just for his inconvenient existence as a “vagrant” in a small town with even smaller minds. 

But in the novel, Rambo’s character is cast in shades of gray. The reader starts out rooting for him, but then he starts killing dogs. Lots of dogs. And an owl, which just seems like a cruel and unusual choice for a foraged dinner. If that wasn't enough to turn off a reader, by the final quarter of the story, he’s devolved into a vigilante who just wants to burn it all down. 

Not saying a reader can’t relate to that (this reader most definitely can), but simultaneously, we’re shown the softer side of Sheriff  Will Teasle, which has to be the most on-the-nose fictional character name I’ve ever seen. In the movie version Teasle is a cardboard cutout of a stereotypical cop. But in the novel he’s going through marital problems and dealing with personal losses when friends (and their dogs!) that he called in favors to help hunt down “the kid” start dropping like flies at the hand of Rambo’s wrath. 

In the novel, Teasel and Rambo trade places. At the beginning of the novel we’re rooting for Rambo over Teasel, but by the end Rambo has scorched so much earth that he is unredeemable. There’s a lot to unpack thematically about how the story relates to the US military industrial complex, and perhaps the trading places is poetic in that way. Perhaps Rambo's infamy lies in his contradictions. We love to watch him burn it all down so that we don't have to. 

XO

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The Good Fight: Analyzing the Tolkienverse

The rich landscape that author J.R.R. Tolkien created in The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings series is so vivid and thoroughly detailed that readers feel like they are actually in the Shire and trekking across Middle Earth. The characters are just as rich and developed with fascinating backstories and personalities that are relatable despite them being a hobbit or dwarf or elf with a superiority complex. 

Tolkien's blockbuster trait as a writer is that he shows readers that we’re all the same. Whether you have hairy hobbit feet or pointy elf ears we’re all fighting for the same innately "human" things in the end: love, freedom, honor, and safety for our loved ones. The different groups (hobbits, dwarves, elves, etc.) in this world go about obtaining those things in different ways, which is very realistic and relatable. It's also a clever method to explore some pretty complex and heavy themes without hitting the reader over the head with Gandalf’s staff. 

Despite being the first novel in the series, The Hobbit movie adaption didn’t come out until after the blockbuster Lord of the Rings movie trilogy blew our minds and attention spans in theaters. My personal take is that this was a smart, strategic decision. If the movies had been released in chronological order, I have to admit I would not have jumped on the Tolkien movie bandwagon. The Hobbit is full of silly-looking dwarfs and humor and singing. Oh, the singing... 

Dwarf-pop, anyone?

The Hobbit movie comes across as a bit childish, IMHO. But the Lord of the Rings trilogy is epic with an elegant grittiness and clear life-and-death stakes…as well as a few hot sword-wielding gents to keep those less fantasy-inclined interested. 

The Lord of the Rings movies take themselves very seriously, whereas The Hobbit has a bit more fun on the screen. That said, these were both blockbuster adaptations, and I think it all goes back to Tolkien’s world building. The vastly layered landscape and backstories each character carries makes this fantastical world feel real. The real world is complex and layered too, but in the Tolkienverse good prevails against all odds. We don’t get that in real life very often. It's an escape we want and maybe even need given the current societal climate.

The Tolkienverse is a blockbuster escape into a fantasy land, but there’s a twist that’s elevated this series' success. Tolkien’s characters don’t give us an escape pass to disconnect from the horrors of the real world. Instead they show us that the battle will be hard fought and devastating at times, but it’s very important that we keep fighting, and when we do good prevails.  Now that's a fantasy I'd like to see come true. 

XO

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The Other Side of Hate

The Hate U Give paints a scary, yet hopeful, portrait of inner city life that is written in such close first person POV that it’s impossible to keep ignoring the harsh realities of the Black Lives Matter movement. 

The injustices Starr faces in this timely YA novel are almost unbearable because we’ve all seen the news. We know her experience on the page isn’t “just” fiction. It’s fictionalized reporting on a harsh reality in a voice that the author has made us sympathize with. No reader can ignore that black people are being unjustly brutalized by law enforcement when it’s Starr giving them her firsthand account of that trauma. 

It’s a harrowing yet common tale, and experiencing it in the close first person voice of an authentic black teen makes the reality hit hard for all of us. Especially, readers who do not exist in this type of harsh reality are forced to feel and develop empathy for a type of situation  they’d rather ignore. But this novel makes it impossible to ignore the reality of what so many inner city teens can’t avoid. 

In particular, Starr’s constant struggle with codeshifting and her insecurity about who she’s “supposed” to be in any given situation is heartbreaking. She’s from two worlds but doesn’t feel she truly belongs in either. This is a reality that probably a lot of white readers had never been aware of, but it’s a commonality in American black culture. Starr’s codeshifting shows readers what it’s like to live as a black person navigating the fine line between authenticity and what society deems acceptable.  

What this novel does so well is educating readers without it feeling too telling or preachy. Starr is letting us into her worlds, her thoughts, fears, and hopes. So we’re learning about Starr while simultaneously learning about the nuanced layers of inner city community. Approaching a polarizing topic like racially-charged police brutality that way makes it accessible to everyone.

There’s also a strong theme that’s reinforced throughout the story: Sometimes you can do everything right and things can still go wrong. Everyone from every type of background can identify with that theme. So with that the story then becomes universally relatable. The author offers readers common ground to stand on in that theme. 

When this book debuted in 2017, the BLM movement had only been around for a few years and people were (and, sadly, still are) very angry on both sides. The timing and authentic voice is what made this novel a blockbuster, but the true triumph is how the author, Angie Thomas,  broke down the ways in which the system works against low income, primarily black communities through the eyes and heart of a single girl. Starr’s story forces readers to not just acknowledge but really see systemic racism working against people/characters we care about. 

We all have things in our lives that are worth fighting for. That fight is never easy, but it’s very important that we keep fighting. That's a blockbuster message.

xo

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Kale and Broccoli Covered in Cheese Whiz: Analyzing the Success of Jurassic Park

 I am lucky (and old) enough to remember when the movie adaptation of Jurassic Park premiered. Leading up to the release in the summer of 1993, there was a cultural buzz that doesn’t exist in our modern, oversaturated 24-7 digital lifestyle. It wasn’t social media blasts or “influencers” generating this buzz. It was good old fashioned word of mouth. Between friends and neighbors and parents, it felt like everyone was talking about the new dinosaur movie. And this IRL conversation was fueled by one impossible promise: Spielberg had brought dinosaurs back to life. 

The groundbreaking special effects that this movie employed were legendary before anyone even stepped foot in a movie theater. Even if the movie had sucked, it still would’ve been a blockbuster simply because you couldn’t avoid the buzz, the awe, the “who HAVE to see the T-Rex” hype. 

But the movie didn’t suck. The script was layered. The sets were lush and realistic right down to the Jurassic Park lunchboxes in the giftshop and the custom-painted Jeeps that many a fan attempted to replicate on their own vehicles. All of this attention to detail made the impossible concept of an amusement park that brings dinosaurs back to life feel real. Above all that though the cast elevated this movie to blockbuster status.

They're witty, funny, and walked around with theme backpacks strapped to them as they ran for their lives. People showed up to Jurassic Park because of the dino buzz, but they bought tickets a second and third time because of the themes. Theme is the true blockbuster element in Jurassic Park. 

We see Ellie debating “sexism in survival situations” and Malcolm preaching the cautionary tale of man vs. nature. He famously says, "Your scientists were so preoccupied with whether or not they could, they didn't stop to think if they should.". 

And this is it. This is the blockbuster theme (one of many in this movie) everyone in every theater across the globe can relate to. Universal themes shine from every character like the blinking warning lights on the electric fences in the park. People will say they love this movie because they remember that first moment when the T-Rex busts out of her enclosure in the middle of a rainstorm to wreak havoc and gnash on some lawyer-on-the-toilet grindage, but it’s not just the special effects that keep us re-watching this movie every time it’s on TV.

Spielberg and screenwriter David Koepp were savvy enough to make these thematic touchpoints vehicles for character development and comedic relief. We’re being taught so many lessons in this movie that we quote deep moments like “life finds a way” with a laugh instead of a reverential nod. This movie is so palatable yet so intellectually stimulating that it might as well be kale and broccoli covered in cheese whiz. 

The success of Michael Crichton’s novel prior to the movie release can’t be ignored either. Millions of copies sold years before any dilophosaurus made Newman from Seinfeld the ultimate example of nature’s power over mankind. (Dude, deserved it though, right?)

The success of Jurassic Park is the sum of its parts. The blockbuster novel. The blockbuster director. The blockbuster special effects. The blockbuster cast. And the blockbuster themes. Add all that together and you have one hell of a blockbuster that will surely last longer than the dinosaurs. 

XO

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Manic Pixie Sci-Fi Boys

After reading The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, I, much like the characters in the novel, went searching for answers because I was at a loss for where to even begin analyzing such a chaotic, nonsensically esoteric story hitting blockbuster status. In a Youtube post by Jess of the Shire, she breaks the story down to “the universe is a confusing and often disappointing place, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

This sums up how I felt as a reader at the end of (and largely throughout) the story. This theme is comforting in a nihilistic kind of way, and there can be an argument made for it being a universal theme (a trademark of blockbusters), but the manic dialogue and cyclical nature of the plot made my head feel like a two-day-old boba tea. Not very tasty.  

The writing is almost purple prose, but it’s so strange I don’t even want to qualify it as that. Perhaps a better term for Douglas Adams’s writing style is periwinkle prose. It’s purposefully dense to showcase its absurdity (which seems to be the main draw of the text?), but it’s borderline too dense to attempt to enjoy.

To its credit, the story is wildly creative, if not wholly random, and the voice is unique and quirky. This was a check in the plus column for me in chapter one, but by chapter ten it became exhaustive. I felt like I was reading the rantings of a manic pixie sci-fi boy. Much like the often criticized manic pixie dream girl trope, I was not impressed by the manic pixie sci-fi boys that populated this novel.

That said, many other readers were impressed, obviously. So, what makes this blockbuster bust? The one mass-appeal aspect I could find was how the story pokes fun at human behaviors. It’s a universal human experience to laugh at ourselves, right? If you can’t laugh off the meaninglessness of life, how can you live it? 

Perhaps that’s the question that keeps readers coming back to The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. Especially, in the times that we’re living in (or through might be more accurate) today, an absurdist view of our universe might be the only way to survive. 

XO

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An Analysis of the Bizarre Strength of Elle Woods

Since the film adaptation of Amanda Brown's bestselling novel Legally Blond premiered in 2001, Reese Witherspoon has evolved into the Book Maven of Hollywood. Sharing this title with the OG, Oprah, Reese's Book Club has more than 2 million members and her production companies have adapted (and help create) blockbusters like Wild, Gone Girl, Where the Crawdads Sing, Big Little Lies, Little Fires Everywhere, and Daisy Jones & the Six to name just a few from the big and small screens. 

As a writer of female-driven fiction, there are few things I attempt to manifest more than seeing that coveted RBC round, yellow sticker on one of my novels. Being chosen for Reese’s Book Club is an outright guarantee that your novel will become a bestseller. So, how did a girl better versed in Prada than legalese catapult Reese into maven status? 

I think the key blockbuster quality that Legally Blond has is the character of Elle Woods. To point back at the bizarre behavior argument from my previous post about The Hunger Games, all blockbuster protagonists seem to make bizarre choices, like all the time. When your response to getting dumped by your boyfriend is to kill your senior year by studying non-stop so you can attend law school clear across the country to win him back, girl, you are dead smack in bizarre territory. 

Nobody in real life makes decisions like this. And if they try to, they almost always fail. But we want to make crazy bizarre leaps of faith like this, don't we? The admirable thing about Elle is that even when she’s failing (which is rare), she’s still growing and leveling up. 

From a thematic standpoint, Elle bets on herself. Always. She has moments of doubt, but they’re short-lived because one of her unique opinions or quirks swiftly offers up an outside-the-box solution. Elle’s character teaches viewers (and readers) that when you believe in yourself you can accomplish anything. It’s self-doubt that holds you back, not your perceived flaws. In Elle’s world, nothing that is part of her makeup is a flaw. It’s simply a fresh way to approach a familiar problem. 

If only we could all live that way, thinking our flaws are actually our strengths. The Legally Blond franchise lets us escape into that world and live vicariously through Elle’s inner courage.  

Elle could’ve been written as a sorority girl caricature–and she still frequently acts like one–but she has unique opinions and an admirable drive to do hard things. She goes all in on whatever she’s committed to. Whether it’s a toga party on campus or her first day in court, Elle fully commits to the task at hand in unique and unexpected ways. She subverts our expectations of someone who looks and acts like she does, and it’s hilarious and satisfying when she proves everyone wrong. She teaches us not to judge a book (or ourselves?) by its cover…even when it has a round, yellow Reese’s Book Club sticker on it. 

xo

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