Monday, December 24, 2012

The Christmas Spirit - Why I Don't Have It

Well, Christmas is coming and going, and I've been watching... yet again... some of the Christmas movies and TV specials that always spring up. Always. And since it's basically the same thing every year, what with the holiday cheer and Santa Claus, it's grown ever-so sickenly sweet to the point where it's become mundane for me. 

I don't even want to know what the ridiculous-looking movie "Rise of the the Guardians" is like. I've had enough, especially since Arthur Christmas. 

It's the same old story, with the same magical whimsy shoehorned into the screen as if it were an absolute must. And I suppose it is a must. Christmas-oriented programming caters to innocent children with extraordinarily active imaginations who, under the influence of the surrounding culture, are geared toward demanding a vast assortment of material goodies so they can one-up their friends (and enemies). It's a sad, sad world we live in, huh?

Which is why I staunchly request that people start taking a little risk and deliver a Christmas show that not only entertains the public, but challenges the market's corrupt commercialist ways. Without once reverting to pandering. Because that's what I think is the most putrid part of the holiday season: they send a barrage of cheery entertainment our way so as to render us into a blissful stupor and then feast upon our wealth when we mindlessly go buy-buy (bad joke). 

...When will the madness end?! 

Friday, November 30, 2012

Purple Prose?

What is this thing called "purple prose?"

No, that's not it. (You sillies.)

Purple prose is a term I've just recently become familiar with, and I'm glad I've learned what it means. Why? Because I see so much of it in amateur fiction, and it drives me absolutely crazy. In a bad way.  

While basic prose follows natural grammatical structure and flow in a manuscript, purple prose refers to an overdose of sentence embellishment within. And underneath all the fanciful, laced-and-gilded strings of words reeks a highly unpleasant odor. The odor of self-indulgence, and the mudding of clear meaning.

I'm going to try to give a "purple" example by offering myself as a sacrifice to the ornamented, flowery altar that is this proceeding paragraph. Here goes nothing...

She lept, her prom dress billowing along the rainbow spectrum, into his robust iron arms, shaken by the luscious quivering muscles protruding hard from under his bronze skin coat. Her shaking was by no means a breathing mural of fear, but instead of a festering untold love, screaming and squirming in infanthood, relentlessly seeking to find release from her fragile porcelain baby-smooth frame of a body. As he jettisoned his warm, ruby-tinted lips upon her streaming topaz locks that picked up in love-induced turbulence, a weak coo of erotic desperation dispersed from her vocal chords and aroused his primal testosterone-gorged spirit. 

...

Bleeeeeergh!

I'm sorry about that; really I am.

In short, writers should not be writing prose in this fashion - using too many metaphorical adjectives or whatnot - if they are to be taken seriously. If they're doing it to be funny, well, it still gets cumbersome to read after a while (to say the least). Some people enjoy it, and might argue that it strengthens the prose by fueling our imaginations on previously unimagined levels. However, I would make a counterargument: such saturated descriptions are ultimately superfluous, giving nothing of real value to the piece (flash as a replacement for substance). It should be the writer's job to let the readers fill in the imaginative gaps, not confine them within the boundaries of the writer's, to put it coldly, "descriptive dictatorship." For the writer needs to trust the readers to picture everything that's taking place - nudging them in the right direction about what to visualize, but allowing for some leeway all the same.

That said, I believe the key to crafting entertaining prose is to find a good balance between adornment and practicality. Maintaining a streamlined narrative (for story) while delivering on enough vivid description to keep things from getting stale.

...Do I now feel like revising the garbage I wrote above regarding the two lovebirds? Not necessarily; no more naughty content from me.       

Tuesday, November 20, 2012

Art and Entertainment

What's the difference between the two?

As I start off with the business of blogging, I think this is an important question to ask. So many times I've tried to figure out exactly why I enjoy a particular movie, TV show, song, or even a book for that matter (I don't read enough books apart from those on philosophy/cultural phenomena). And I always wonder what it is about a certain piece of media that draws people's attention. Does it have to do with the popularity of the subject matter? Is there a good hook? Is there a lasting impression? (I'm talking in a broad range of media here, but I'll focus more on storytelling forms.)

Either way, I want to explore where the dividing line is between something that's "artful" in a piece of work and something that's only - if I can use the word only - "entertaining."

I've discussed this issue with my folks at home somewhat, along with pulling up various internet articles on the subject, and I've come to a personal consensus. Allow me to explain my thoughts... convoluted as they may be.

When we go to the movies, or plunk down in front of the television screen after a hard day's work, we want to relax, unwind, and be entertained. But what do we first find that's entertaining? Maybe a good football game, maybe a romance story, or a super-actiony action flick (you know, the kind where things go boom). Everyone has his or her personal preferences. I like my animated movies, cartoons and comedies - anything that suits my fancy. At this point of discourse, what's entertaining to us comes down to subjective taste.

But let's not stop here; let's push this a little bit further. What else besides preferences determine whether or not we're satisfactorily entertained by the show? The quantity? The quality? Both the quantity and quality?

Right now I'll go with quality, because I start feeling like a lazy sack of sad if I watch too much of anything.

For something to be entertaining, in general it has to be a well-executed endeavor. You don't expect to happily stroll out the movie theater after having endured an hour-and-a-half's worth of painful voice acting, disoriented action sequences, and a soundtrack that gives bad rap music the illusion of being "up there" with the likes of Mozart and Beethoven (slight hyperbole). Though there are cases where films can be so bad as to be enjoyed for completely the wrong reasons.

...No thanks. 
     
All in all I like to think of entertainment as "pleasure that can be measured," depending on how picky people are about what they watch, play, or read. And a lot of it does come down to what we precedently like or dislike. However, at least in the storytelling world, there are also different levels of craftsmanship exhibited within a particular medium which can generate approval or disdain, appreciation or disgust. Well-crafted productions are generally better received than poorly-crafted ones for instance (I emphasize "generally"), because more people will set aside their preferences and partake, and the critics will be appeased.

This, of course, is delving into the territory of what we would consider objectively "good" or "bad," the former adjective generating - what we would hope to be - greater enjoyment among the public than the latter. Which next brings me to the topic of art.

What is art? My own supposition would be that it's an expression of ideas through realms upon realms of media, but in our postmodern world, there is no absolute definition. Anything could be called art. Cars stacked up in the middle of a grassy field could be called art. My sandwich could be called art. The possibilities are endless, so maybe we should probe deeper into what good art is vs. bad art, specifically in the realm of fiction. That might work better for clarity.

First, we may agree that the production of good art takes a solid amount of knowledge and skill in a particular craft. Anyone can make a sandwich; a chef can (presumably) make a masterpiece out of the simplest ingredients. Now let's apply this idea to storytelling. Anyone can write a story if he has a premise, but an author can weave an engaging tale from any premise he chooses, be it an interesting, uninteresting, or flat-out ludicrous one. Naturally, the interesting premise would result in the best art, but the ability to produce something grand out of something otherwise insignificant is quite a feat, and undeniably a testament to the artist's mastery of skill. Thus, good art is the crop of skill.

I love to see people tell genuinely heartfelt and unforgettable stories through the most unexpected media. We always like to think of books as the harbingers of masterful storytelling, and that very well may be true. But film and stage also have their place in the art world, as do even comics and television programming.

What about video games?

One might pass off video games as worthless and time-wasting (with the possible exception of them developing good hand-eye coordination). People just play games for fun, or for venting their frustrations by blowing stuff up in a virtual reality setting. Right?

Well, I've played a game or two that serves more purpose than a "game" would typically dare. One of said games is an RPG title, released only in Japan, called Mother 3.    

Mother 3 the Game: Heartbreak, Tears


This game - nay, this work of art - was an experiment in storytelling through the interactive medium by Japanese game designer and essayist Shigesato Itoi. While it is a bit average in terms of overall gameplay, Mother 3 packs a story with so much punch you'll be hard pressed to find a more emotionally-involving experience as you commence with the action of button tapping. As Itoi puts it: "I wanted to make Mother 3 like a mirror. One that reflects the heart of the player off of the screen." And as far as the players are concerned, he succeeded. Now that wouldn't just be art; that would be good art, for a medium once thought void of any real meaningful content has now been taken advantage of in brilliant new ways. A pioneering, if you will.

I should add though, that good art can only be expected from good intention. The artist's vision provides the driving force behind the work, and if the finished piece is a beautiful one, so too was the intent of the author. Usually, that is. I can't really think of an example showing an ill-conceived concept turning into a fine end product.

To help articulate what I mean by "ill-conceived," I will now turn my attention to the other side of the spectrum: bad art.

Bad art, to my knowledge, results from a lack of skill. It's something anyone could do - akin to making a sandwich, only with deducted points for trying to be something it's not. Basically, it's either a failure to fulfill, say, an author's good intentions for writing a compelling story, or it's the simple outcome of a poorly thought-out and unappealing idea.

However, if there were one aspect of bad art that I personally have the most difficulty forgiving, it would have to be this: intentionally bad art.

I don't think I can handle the abstract concept that any work the artist parades around as being a purposefully shoddy effort is worthy of even being called art. Why be art when it takes no expertise whatsoever? I'm aware of those who say it still serves as an expression of an idea, and there are exceptions I'd reconsider (such as jokes and parodies courtesy of the experts, even though such undertakings can stray into egotistical territory). But in general, no, I don't approve of bad art, and the true underlying reason for that is...

It's not enjoyable.    

Indeed, this is where I begin to bring the discussion of "art and entertainment" full circle. Good art not only takes skill to create; it elates. It brings pleasure to us in some shape or form. Particularly when talking about fiction, which I've tried to do this whole time despite my generalizing. Truly, the sense of entertainment and intellectual/emotional satisfaction that escalades from the audience represents a living testimony of the artist's end tour de force. And it's even more evident when the appeal reaches the greatest number of people possible, to the young and old, and to diverse cultures. 

But for every enterprise of good art, there's always the kind that encourages us to overindulge in our pagan/youth culture (or otherwise); I'll call it the putting-way-too-much-emphasis-on-mindless-entertainment kind of art. Case in point...

MS Paint Adventures: Hamsteak
(I don't understand the full context of the GIF above, nor do I really want to.)

Not to rap on those who work hard to make their sometimes very inexplicable visions a reality, but I can't help but wonder what's going through their minds as they slave over pointless indulgences, in turn failing to deliver on a sufficiently coherent story. If there's supposed to be any real story at all, considering the nature of "webcomics" as seen above.

I'd argue that while there is an art to the crafting of entertainment - in movies, video games, music, books, Broadway, etc. - it may or may not achieve its end goal of entertaining an audience if its ambitions are limited, including its limiting of itself to temporary pleasures. (Why not try to produce something timeless, enjoyed throughout many generations, instead of something that ages quickly as does so much contemporary pop media?) I'd also argue that good art inevitably brings pleasure, but pleasure does not guarantee good art. Pleasure is subjective among individuals; art, I would say, has a degree of objectivity, because its quality can vary. Not exactly by one placing it on a numerical scale, but perhaps by the overcoming of a challenge and the level it took to do so - the care, maturity, and skill of the artist. Those kinds of things. Not just by the capacity to entertain, since people are each entertained differently and may not enjoy Mozart or Citizen Kane.

Finally, I realize that enjoyment for art can be interpreted as "art appreciation," thus "entertainment" and "appreciation" can go hand-in-hand. I'll leave that issue aside for now.

With all said and sorted through to the best of my ability, I'm going to leave this a little open-ended and close quickly after a longer-than-expected post. The contrasts between art and entertainment, for me, are these: entertainment takes less skill than art to be achieved, and appeals to personal preference; art transcends what we want, and instead leaves us with a profound impact that changes us, whatever form it may take. Art at its peak is mastery of a craft; entertainment by itself is a pleasure-giver on demand, nothing much more. But of course, art can at certain times be found lying underneath the guise of entertainment, and vice versa. We just always need to look closer.

--

Articles of Further Interest: "The Difference Between Art and Entertainment" and "Thin Line Between Arts and Entertainment"