Ninja Mutants: An Extended Review -- Part Two: The Fantasy Paradigm (an IWM post)

Recently, I went to see the new Ninja Turtles movie with my kids (you can read my review of that here), and there are some things in it that go along with the fantasy "discussion" we're having right now. It's interesting enough that I think it deserves its own post, although I'm not including it in the actual exploring fantasy series. First, let's bring up our list of things that go along with fantasy stories:

1. The protagonist (I'm just going to say "hero" from here on out; it's shorter) is not an adult (and usually male).

2. The hero is an orphan (usually both parents are dead, although there is sometime one (usually the mother)).

3. The hero is "special" in some way.

4. There is a prophecy, generally related to the hero.

5. There is an old mentor of some sort, usually a male. (We recognize this character as "the wizard.")

6. There is a quest of some sort involved that only the hero can complete.

7. There is some kind of descent 

8. The hero has companions who help him on his journey.

9. There is some sort of "dark lord" who can only be defeated by the hero.

10. There's an absence of technology.

The thing of interest to me with this new movie is the protagonist...

And that's where I'll leave you. If you want to know the rest, you'll need to hop over to Indie Writers Monthly. If you've ever been a Turtles fan, even if only when you were a kid, you should hop over there right now! Oh, wait, Turtles to don't "hop." Um... Do a flying, ninja kick over there RIGHT NOW!

Ninja Mutants: An Extended Review -- Part One: The Bay Movie

The new Bay Ninja Turtle movie is one of those that I could hardly avoid seeing. For one thing, my daughter has been dying to see it ever since she first saw the trailer for it. Yes, you heard me right: my daughter. Which is not to say that my son (the younger one) didn't want to see it, but it was much more passive with him. You know, sure, he'd like to see it but, if he didn't get to, it wasn't gonna kill him. Not just did my daughter have to see it, but she had to see it ON OPENING DAY! OR ELSE!

So we went to see it on opening day. It wasn't the first showing, but I'm here writing this, so it must have been close enough to it to keep me alive. For now.

Added to all of that with my daughter, I like the Turtles. The original comic series was pretty brilliant, and the first movie (1990) was so well done it sealed my fate as a fan. That said, I never liked the original animated series. I was more than a few years too old for that when it came out, and "silly" was probably the best description I ever had for it. Needless to say, the Turtles have undergone many changes and interpretations over the years, so I'm not going to try to compare this to any previous incarnations. As much as that's possible, at any rate.

There will be spoilers:

As with any Michael Bay movie, the story is the movie's weakest link. If you've seen The Amazing Spider-Man, you might recognize the plot device of releasing a pathogen from a tower on the top of a prominent building in New York City which accompanies a rooftop battle to stop said release of said pathogen. Add to that the rather overused (at this point) plot of having a secret stash of the antidote to the pathogen on hand to charge the unsuspecting populace for and become insanely wealthy and you'll see the lack of thought that went into the story. Even the twist, that the antidote is in the blood of the Turtles and they must be drained to retrieve it, has been done more times than I can count. Or remember.

But, hey, I suppose considering their target audience... actually, I'm not sure what their target audience is since I'm sure they're trying to get the nostalgia audience along with the kids... Oh, well, for a movie more geared toward kids, I'm sure the plot is fine. Mostly, what the movie needs is good, snappy dialogue, and it has that. My daughter loved Michelangelo because he was so funny. Honestly, there were a lot of laughs in the movie, which ought to be the case for a Turtle picture.

And, as in any Bay movie, the action was spectacular.

There's nothing to complain about with the acting, either. Megan Fox was good as April O'Neil, maybe better than good. She really was the part. Will Arnett was great but, then, it's hard not to enjoy Arnett. The voice actors did a great job, especially Tony Shalhoub whom I didn't even recognize during the movie. Possibly the only issue with the acting wasn't actually an acting issue but a casting one: As soon as I saw William Fichtner, I knew he was the bad guy because, well, that's kind of what he does. It's not fun to know who the villain is because of typecasting.

Speaking of the villain, the other villain, Shredder, although he does have the huge rooftop battle with the Turtles, is hardly the bad guy in the movie. He's just this sort of background character who seems to be controlling things, but, other than the fight, he's not really there. That was disappointing. He, as a character, was hardly menacing because of that. The only thing that made him scary was the huge cybernetic armor suit that he had. I mean, really, anyone can have a suit.

The other main issue goes back to the story, and that's having the Turtles start out as April's childhood pets. It's like ever since Tim Burton did that whole "I made you" thing in Batman, everyone has to have everything circle back around and be all connected and stuff. I suppose it's supposed to make it cooler but, really, it doesn't do anything for me other than cause my eyes to roll. Seriously, it's not even voluntary.

Still, as long as you buy into the plausibility of the Turtles, there's nothing really to break the suspension of disbelief. It never goes to "Seriously!? You expect me to buy that?!" Even the big rig scene stayed within the bounds of Ninja Turtles.

Basically, it's a fun movie... if you like the Turtles. Or if you're a kid who is going to end up liking the Turtles after seeing the movie. If you're not a Turtle fan, this one's probably not for you.

Creating a Masterpiece (an Indie Life post)

What do you think of when you hear the word "masterpiece"? And I don't mean Masterpiece Theater, either. Do you think of this?

Or this?

Or, maybe, even this?

Or something like this?

Joyeuse, the sword of Charlemagne

While it's true that we think of great works of art or craftsmanship as masterpieces, it wasn't always so. Far from it, actually. For hundreds of years, right up until modern times, the word masterpiece was actually applied to what was probably going to be the least accomplished work of one's professional career.
Wait. What?

Okay, let me explain.

There used to be this thing in Europe called a guild system. I'm not sure if they called it that, but it's what we call it. If you were a craftsman or artisan of any kind, you belonged to a guild. So there were guilds for woodworkers, stone cutters, goldsmiths, cooks, painters, sculptors... nearly anything you could think of. And, while it may seem that these just covered, basically, practical professions, they also covered the arts (and many of the most famous pieces of art in history came out of guild work, especially stuff done in cathedrals and other important buildings). [I also want to point out that the guilds also, to some extent, covered writing, especially scholarly writing.] If you wanted to be in one of these careers, you would get apprenticed to someone within the guild to learn the trade. Usually, this was just arranged between the families involved (because often the apprentice went off to live with the person he was apprenticed to), but, (I think) sometimes, these arrangements could be assigned by the guild.

So the apprentice would spend years working with his master to learn his trade, whatever that trade was. At the point that the apprentice had (1) learned everything from his master that he could or (2) learned everything that his master was willing to teach him, he would either become a journeyman (someone who "traveled" (because actual travelling wasn't always involved)) while he worked on his craft and attempted to learn new skills through practice or from finding others to learn from or, if his master had taught him enough, attempt to become a "master craftsman" himself. This was kind of like a test. Okay, no, it was a test. A skills test. The craftsman would have to produce an item to show that he had mastered his craft. If the item was judged worthy, it was called his "masterpiece."

And, as an aside, many (most? all?) of the guilds kept the items that "students" presented and had halls to display great "masterpiece" items. As an additional aside, some of these guilds grew into actual universities. Two prime examples are the Universities of Paris and Oxford.

So... it is true that an artisan tried to do his absolute best work on his masterpiece; it is also true that the production of a masterpiece marked the beginning of a master craftsman's career, not the culmination of it. It was expected that a "master" would go on to create even better works of... art. Because a master was expected to create things of beauty. Even if it was just chairs. Or stone pillars. Or swords. Or, even, writing, to a certain extent.

So here I am to present to you The House on the Corner as my "masterpiece." Not my best work, but the work that proves that I can do the work. I intend that everything will just get better from here on out, and I think that I've already done better. "Christmas on the Corner," for instance, is better. Brother's Keeper will be even better. That's how it goes. Or how it should go.

Now, you get out there and make your "masterpiece"! Whatever that is. Create that masterpiece and declare, "It only gets better from here!"

This post has been brought to you in part by Indie Life.

U2 and the Quest for a #1

I love the band U2, of which I've made no secret. I've loved them since the first time I ever heard them. They're my favorite band, and have been for, well, a long, long time. Unfortunately, I missed out on their formative years, because I just didn't listen to that type of music at that time.

I grew up, as most people do, on my parents' music (more specifically, my mother's music). Not that everyone grew up on my parents' music, because I don't remember you all at my house when I was a kid, so I expect that you grew up on your parents' music. My mother was into folk stuff: Simon and Garfunkel; Peter, Paul, and Mary; Bob Dylan. There was a little Beatles thrown in, but I was never into them (my mom still (at least I hope it's still) has the white album and Sgt. Pepper on vinyl). Oh, and the Beach Boys. At any rate, when I finally got into music on my own (at the very old age of 15), I tended toward that kind of music and listened to a "light rock" station that played "hits from the 60s, 70s, and 80s." I was really into Air Supply if that tells you anything. What the station I listened to didn't play was actual rock music which meant that the station did not play U2.

The first time I ever remember hearing of U2 was my junior year of high school. I was dating this girl that was constantly asking me about songs of theirs, especially "Sunday Bloody Sunday." She couldn't seem to hold it in her head that I had never heard of U2 before she mentioned them, and I continued to not try to figure out who they were 1. because she wouldn't leave me alone about them. 2. because her other favorite group was Pink Floyd, and I was certainly not interested in them (thank you very much).

So it wasn't until the release of "With or Without You," a song that the station I listened to would play, that I finally heard a U2 song. I was instantly hooked. I loved that song. I had to know who that group was, and I was kind of not happy to find out that it was U2 1. because my (by then) ex-girlfriend had bugged me about them all the time. 2. because I wished I'd taken the time to see who they were when she was bugging me about them all the time. I dived into all of their older stuff along with The Joshua Tree and 1987 became my own personal year of U2 quite aside from what was going on with them and the rest of the world.

But what did it take for them to finally get my attention? A #1 single. And a #1 single was something that U2 actively sought. They were striving for it. This highlights the question for me of "Is it art if it's commercial?" And that's a whole different discussion, the difference between what is and what is not art, so I'm not really going to go into that; however, it has some bearing on where I'm going with this, so it had to be mentioned.

When U2 first got together, they didn't know what they were doing. Larry Mullen was the only one that really knew anything about music. They were just a bunch of kids that wanted to be in a band. But they practiced hard and learned. Not just learning to make music but learning who they were. That bit, the bit of learning themselves, learning their voice, was just as important as learning how to make music. One was learning the technical skills and the other was learning their specific art, their voice.

Skipping the history lesson, all of this lead to their first album, Boy. Boy and, later, October were received well critically, but they failed to achieve the kind of commercial success that they and Island Records wanted. They were making art, good art, but no one was seeing it. Well, hearing it. They wanted a #1 single, and they set about to get it. They wanted, in short, commercial success.

This is where a lot of people would say they "sold out." They let their desire to be commercially successful destroy their art. (Not that I know if anyone would actually say this about U2, but it would be said about a lot of other people in this position.) It's at this point that a lot of bands, writers, painters, artists of whatever stripe would have sold out. They would have looked around at what was popular and tried to mimic that, subverting their art into something that it wasn't in hopes of becoming popular so that "one day" they could return to what they really wanted to do.

U2 didn't do that. The used their desire for commercial success to drive them to become, well, to become more them. They didn't look around at what was popular in music and try to do that; they just kept pushing to get better. I look at it like what Michelangelo said about his sculpture David, (and this is a paraphrase) "I chipped away everything that wasn't David." I think U2 chipped away everything that wasn't U2 in becoming the band that released three #1 singles from The Joshua Tree. Certainly, they did not pattern themselves after  the things that were popular at the time as often what they were doing was at right angles to what everyone else was doing.

Often people look down on artists that want commercial success. It's as if the desire to be successful somehow makes them less. Makes them, in short, a sellout. Like it's a choice. You can either do art or you can be commercial. The truth is, though, that it's not a choice. Sure, so many of us think that it is that we frequently make it into a choice. For instance, the choice between writing a vampire/zombie novel (commercial) or writing about the long road trip through the desert (art).

The real problem is that too many people never figure out their specific art before trying to get the #1. They don't spend the time discovering their own voice so that they can become more of themselves when they're ready to reach for the goal of making their art a commercial success. Instead, they just strive for commercial success and leave their art behind hoping to go back to it one day.

The truth is that there doesn't have to be a choice. If you know your art, if you've spent time with it, learning it, discovering it, becoming it, when it comes time to achieve, you do that by becoming more "it." You chip away everything that's not "you," and you take your art along with you.

Yeah, yeah, I know, that doesn't guarantee that you get the #1. But, then, nothing guarantees that you get the #1. But, if you do, no one can call you a sellout, right? And you're still you. I think that's the key to all real success and to being happy in your success. The ability to become more of who you are, not becoming something you're not.

Learn your art. Become your art. Become more you.


I really wish I could give you my top 10 U2 songs or something, but I can't get it down to 10. I even like Pop and Zooropa, if that tells you anything. I'll think more about this one and, maybe, give you a top 10 countdown at some point.