X is for the Unknown in Murder Mysteries

In mysteries, X often stands in for the murderer. In the show Person of Interest, the unknown factor is whether the "number" (or person) is the perpetrator or the victim of a crime. Is X about to commit a crime? Suffer a crime? Should X be stopped, helped, or protected? 

Agatha Christie has her detectives argue that in order to catch the murderer, the detective must understand the victim. What type of reactions and interactions did the victim invite? In reaction, is the murderer fearful, revengeful, desperate, angry, vain...? 

And some of the best mysteries have memorable murderers. 

*Spoilers*

From the Golden Age,  

Dorothy Sayers' Whose Body delivers a fascinating and cold-hearted murderer in The Dawson Pedigree. The fretful innocence of the victim--and how readily the community accepts the death--underscores the murderess's paranoid self-protection. 

The murderer in Ngaio Marsh's Light Thickens is inconsequential since the main "character" of the book is inconsequential since the victim is also inconsequential. The main "character" of the book is the play. Final Curtain, however, places the victim center-stage; he is an aging actor after all. His ego and self-satisfaction, his demands on family and constant will-changing account for the behavior of the murderer who mirrors him. 

Josephine Tey's To Love and Be Wise, like a few of her novels, involves no murder. Supposed victim and perpetrator of the investigated crime are one and the same, and the character of that person explains the double role.

Agatha Christie's Evil Under the Sun focuses almost entirely on the clever murdering couple. They attract all the notice. Christie, however, links their personalities to the victim's ultimately naive nature. She appears a slinky, manipulative tease, but she is actually, as Poirot states, "The eternal victim." 

None of the victims deserves being murdered.  The above writers were thankfully not disposed to excusing cruel and violent behavior. 

However, nearly all of them spend time presenting their victims and murderers as members of various networks from family to career: networks that evoke a strong and memorable response. Marsh indulged the most in random or pointless and tawdry murders (that is, realistic murders). But those random, pointless, tawdry victims and murderers are far less memorable. 

A classic murder, it appears, requires a definitive X.  

People Don't Change: Mesopotamian Sons

Cultures change. Technology changes. Understanding changes. 

Human nature truly doesn't change.  

Professor Amanda H. Podany of Great Course's Ancient Mesopotamia: Life in the Cradle of Civilization describes a kingly father and his letters to his sons. His sons were sub-kings since Mesopotamian dynasties were comprised of cities. Sometimes, kings ruled over multiple cities. Sometimes, they were subject to other kings. 

What is hilarious is not just the king's desire to dole out advice--doling out advice definitely seems to be part of the human condition and quite specific to certain personality types. Podany even says that the father "tended to micro-manage his son's administrations." 

What is more hilarious is that the father-king acts like all fathers in history despite the differing context. When one of his sons wants to build more idols, the father-king points out that more idols means more religious ceremonies which require more sacrifices of oxen and sheep except "you keep telling me you don't have enough oxen and sheep!"

Translation: Where are you going to get the money? From me?  

 The father-king also complains that the son can't make his own decisions: "Is there no beard on your chin?"

And he compares his sons to each other. So the older son tells the younger, "Write to me before you write to Dad." 

Human nature is a constant.  

Books to Movies: The Great and Intelligent Excision from The Lord of the Rings

One of Jackson's most intelligent decisions was to not present the Scouring of the Shire.

In the book, Saruman--let go through mercy by Treebeard--alongside the still odiously sycophantic but increasing resentful Wormtongue make their way to the Shire and cause havoc. In the face of regulation-happy bullies, Sam, Pippin, Merry rally the "resistance" and defeat the bad guys. Frodo monitors the event and prevents it turning into a massacre. Wormtongue, as in the extended version of the trilogy, kills Saruman. 

It's a great sequence! And I'm frankly at a loss as to why people keep creating movies about everything BUT The Battle of the Shire--unless Jackson is saving it to do himself. 

However, it would have not only made a long trilogy already even longer, it would have turned the entire movie on its head. 

The pay-off in the movie is that the hobbits have directly and indirectly saved Middle Earth. The book's pay-off is the same, but Tolkien never forgets that real consequences exist for real actions. Everybody in Gondor is happy but the effects of peace and more stable times have not yet entirely reached beyond Gondor and Rohan (and even there, there's a great deal of clean-up, including rebuilding Osgiliath, tracking down prisoners in Mordor; besides which, Shelob survived--and confronting Shelob is another potentially great movie!) 

The lack of "okay, life is complicated and bad stuff keeps happening and people can't relax" doesn't make the movie shallow. As I remark elsewhere, movies are deep in a different way from books. I'll discuss imagery in another post. For now, I will state that deepness occurs in moments. 

The book can have more "where are they now" chapters; in fact, to an extent, books demand this kind of wrap-up. But for a movie, such an ending "reads" rather like an essay which brings up a completely different topic in the conclusion...and I turn the page, wondering where the next five paragraphs are. 

So not including the Battle of the Shire was remarkably smart. 

It would still make a fantastic movie of its own.  

What Makes a Good Hero?

Below is a repost from 2011.

* * *

I first came up with a list of favorite heroes (main protagonists). I then used those heroes to create a list of good hero attributes:

• Booth from Bones as representative of the romantic hero.
• Patrick Jane from The Mentalist as representative of the troubled, semi-romantic hero.
• All the Stargate men (including Dr. Rodney McKay).
• Benton Fraser from Due South as representative of the solitary hero.

What attributes do these heroes hold in common that I find satisfying to watch?

1. The heroes are confident in a nonchalant way.

Jack O’Neill and John Sheppard take the prize here. I doubt there are two more nonchalant heroes on television. It is appropriate to pair them together since they are an extroverted and introverted versions of the same personality type.

The best example of their similar nonchalance comes from the pilot to Stargate: Atlantis where the following exchange takes place:

O’Neill: This isn't a long trip, so I'll be a succinct as possible.
Sheppard: (After a long silence.) Well, that's pretty succinct.
O’Neill: Thank you.

The remaining heroes are less nonchalant but still manage to confront danger and uncertainty with finesse. Okay, McKay gets a little wild and crazy and talks too fast, but in general, these heroes meet problems with aplomb. (McKay is actually the most heroic of the bunch because he overcomes a normal amount of cowardice and courage to perform truly courageous and selfless acts.) Patrick Jane's willingness to call things as they are gives him a bit of House confidence (without the brassness).

I return to this issue of confidence below--from a slightly different angle.

2. The heroes have a sense of humor.

The heroic aplomb is helped by the heroes having a sense of humor. Benton Fraser may seem an exception here, but I’ve always considered Fraser's “straight man” persona to be partly put on. He isn’t faking so much as he is deliberately being more himself.

Ray: This is what's wrong with you, Fraser. You see a problem, and you gotta fix it. You can't even go to the men's room without stopping and telling some simple stupid charmingly witty Inuit story that inspires people to take on the world's social ills!
Fraser: Well, I'm sorry, Ray, but I fail to see how a small group of people banding together to form a neighborhood watch constitutes a form of political anarchy.

The remaining heroes are given to excessive irony (Jack and John), rampant sarcasm (McKay), and quick repartee (Booth). I also have to add Patrick Jane's unbelievably mischievous and charming smile. All by itself, it makes you happy!

Another aspect of hero humor is the ability of the hero to not get pissed at the heroine/react defensively to subtext. This may actually cross the fiction/reality line because it is an attribute I admire and wish I could emulate.

A great example comes from Booth in the first season. Bones makes a promise to a little boy which Booth then keeps.

Brennan: I knew you'd back me up. I knew you wouldn't make me a liar.
Booth: How did you know?
Brennan: Because you want to go to heaven
Booth: But you don't believe in heaven.
Brennan: But you do . . .

Here's the kicker (or "kickster," as Bones would say): Booth just smiles. Brennan's assumptions don't bug him; he doesn't feel used or manipulated or out-of-control. (I will refer back to this particular dialog later.)

3. The heroes respect women without putting them on pedestals.

Because, let’s face it, putting women on pedestals is just another form of condescension. (A woman on a pedestal can’t interfere or contribute. She’s just supposed to stay there.)

Some of the heroes (Benton, McKay) are a little uncertain around women and make up for this, in Benton's case, with excessive civility (McKay is just rude). But none of them are dismissive.

The Stargate heroes win the prize for heroes who, without taking women for granted manage to take them for granted. It's the difference between undervaluing or ignoring someone versus assuming someone has the right to exist/be there/contribute. Booth, for instance, gets kudos for wanting Bones' opinion while not perceiving her as perfect. And Patrick Jane doesn't flare up when Lisbon takes a stand, like when she returns the lottery-won jewelry:

Teresa: All right, guys. It's been fun playing dress-up, but playtime is over.
Cho: I'm sorry, boss, what do you mean?
Teresa: This. (She gestures at the necklace Patrick gave her.) It's kind of a waste, don't you think?
Patrick: I would have bought world peace if I could. They didn't have it in the casino gift store. Very limited range of items for sale.
Teresa: You know what I mean.
Patrick: I know those emeralds look lovely with your eyes.
Teresa: Thank you. It's beautiful, but I can't keep it.
Patrick: I understand.

4. The heroes know themselves.

This raises a conundrum. The reason so many romance novels succeed is because the hero doesn't make his problems the heroine's problem. He takes care of things! Unfortunately, he also tends to be ultra-alpha and dominating, which becomes tiresome. Confidence and self-knowledge are not limited to ultra-alpha and dominating males.

Having said that, I will start with the most alpha of my listed heroes. One of Booth's most attractive qualities is that he DOESN'T kowtow to Bones. Regarding the dialog quoted above, one reason Booth doesn't get upset is because his ego isn't that fragile. This is very attractive.

However, leaving the confident factor up to men is rather unfair. One reason I get tired of books like Twilight (and a number of mystery series) is because the heroine runs around wondering if she is good enough and having her ego massaged by the confident male. Geez, wouldn't he get tired of this?

To continue, good heroes are never so tunnel-visioned, they don't know who they are. Booth is proud of being a beer-and-skittles guy. He doesn't pretend to be anything else although, like Benton and Jack, he sometimes emphasizes certain personality traits deliberately (he isn't as uninformed as he sometimes acts). He is a good father who has "stepped it up" and sees that stepping up as a defining part of his personality.

Patrick Jane has accepted his past mistakes to the nth degree. In some ways, he is too hard on himself, but in some ways, he isn't. Setting aside the Red John stuff, defrauding people isn't terribly kind. And there are enough flashbacks in Season 1 to make it clear that Jane did deliberately defraud some people, even when what he did hurt them emotionally.

All the Stargate guys are honest with themselves. One of my favorite examples is McKay when he tells a bunch of bad guys, " I don't know if you noticed or not, but I'm an extremely arrogant man who tends to think all his plans will work."

And Benton, who is actually quite hard to read, is never dishonest. About anything. He is occasionally self-deluded when he thinks he can help someone he can't. In the first season, he tries to save a deceitful, dark-haired woman from herself. In the final episode of that season, he and his partner have this exchange:

Ray Vecchio: Benny, not every woman with long dark hair tries to kill her lover.
Benton Fraser: Oh.

Ultimately, Benton always acknowledges what must be done.

5. The heroes are loyal/stick around.

Okay, guys, if you want to know how to attract/make a woman happy, this is it. The way to a woman's heart (in fact, I would argue, anyone's heart--see image) is loyalty.

Booth, of course, is way up the list. Actually, they all are, but Booth is the most obvious. One of my favorite quotes comes when Bones and Angela are discussing Bones' brother:

Bones: I worshiped him. You know? God, he was so cool. Everyone knew I was Russ Brennan's little sister. I wasn't cool or pretty, so being his sister...You know that game, Marco Polo? I'd be sitting in class, and I'd hear out the window, "Marco!" It'd be Russ, checking in on me, letting everyone know that I was his little sister.
Angela: Did you "Polo"?
Brennan: Yeah, sometimes it'd be the only word I said all day. "Polo." And then Mom and Dad disappeared, and Russ took off. Suddenly, no one cared where I was. I miss that. Someone caring where I am all the time. (My emphasis.)

At this point, you hear Booth call, "Bones. Bones. Where are you? Let's go!" off-screen. It is immeasurably touching.

Patrick Jane demonstrates that, whatever his behavior in the past, he did adore his wife and child. He also states that he will always have Lisbon's back. When she complains that she can't trust him because he's always doing crazy stuff, he responds, "Lisbon, I want you to know that you can trust me. No matter what happens, I will be there for you. I will. I need you to know that. Now, can I catch you?" (They are doing a trust exercise, and he does catch her.)

Of course, saying, "Trust me" isn't enough: actions speak louder than words. The Stargate guys always follow through. The creed, "We don't leave our people behind" may not always be good military policy, but it's good romance and hero policy.

And Benton, naturally, is Mr. Reliable. His reliability isn't confined to women; he is always there for his partner, neighbors, small children, pets, and total strangers!

To end, I'm going to give Bones the last word:

Booth: Mr. Decker, you and Donovan, you have a code word? Something to let him know that you sent me?
Decker: Paladin. Tell Donovan "Paladin."
(Decker leaves the room.)
Cullen: (stands) Paladin. Defender of the faith. Protector. Suits you, Booth.
(Cullen walks out.)
Bones: You know what? You tough guys are all very sentimental.

T.H. White and What Makes a King-to-Be

In my novella, The Wolf Boy Returns from Space, my king-to-be is more a young Alexander the Great than, say, Harry Potter. That is, he has a cold, observant, ambitious side even as a teen. He knows he has plans. 

T.H. White's Wart, however, is supposed to be a great king not for ambition but because he is good. 

So what is Wart like? 

One of the most interesting characteristics White gives Wart in his frankly medieval if anachronistic England is that he doesn't put himself forward. About Kay, the narrator states, "[He was] one of those people who would be neither a follower nor a leader, but only an aspiring heart, impatient in the failing body which imprisoned it." 

Wart, however, "admired Kay and was a born follower. He was a hero-worshipper."

These qualities may seem odd ones for a incipient king, especially in our current "stand up and defend your label!" society. 

The movie is a disappointment--

the best action sequences are

missing--but Wart's character

is fairly accurate.

In T.H. White's hands, however, Wart as follower makes him pure boy.  He is curious, courageous, quick-witted, quick-on-his-feet, engaged with everything he does. He loves things with his whole heart. His greatest trait, of which he is almost entirely unaware, is his empathy. He understands and loves Kay, so he begs Merlyn for an adventure for Kay. He eventually earns Kay's "honest love." 

Wart loves the glory of jousts and worries about the combatants being hurt. He begs a boon for Wat but also, ultimately, lets Wat and Dog Boy alone to do their own thing.

Wart's leadership qualities here dovetail with T.H. White's treatment of Robin W(H)ood. Of all the social/political orders Wart encounters, Robin W(H)ood's independent band are the most efficient, the happiest, and the most self-supporting. 

In sum, the Wart doesn't want to push others around. In one of the most touching passages of The Sword in the Stone, Wart tells Merlyn that as a knight, he would take on his responsibilities alone. 

He muses (he isn't bragging), "I would pray to God to let me encounter all the evil in the world in my own person, so that if I conquered there should be none [of the evil] left, while if I was defeated, it would be I who would suffer for it." 

Merlyn chides him for being "presumptuous" and unrealistic. Besides, nobody would let Wart do what he wishes. 

"I could ask," said the Wart. 

"You could ask," repeated Merlyn. 

Stop the Christie Murder: ABC Murders and More About Serial Killers and Profiling

As I have mentioned elsewhere, serial killers are difficult to catch. Recent events have brought home to me that although human beings are good at adjusting to reality, they expect human behavior to follow patterns/expectations. Those expectations can be frustrating. I suspect they also keep people stable and functional. 

We truly don't imagine the unimaginable on a regular basis! In fact, according to Benedict Carey, our brains are wired to forget things. We can only handle so much information and stimuli at once. And information without context or story is quickly forgotten or buried. 

Outlying behavior--sociopathic behavior--is not something people quickly recognized. 

*Spoilers*

Of course, with The ABC Murders, the entire point is that the "true" murder is hiding within a series of other murders. I don't entirely buy into this plot. The same human quality that keeps us from easily recognizing sociopathic behavior, keeps people from planning multiple murders to disguise a single murder. 

However, Christie does a fantastic job--years before FBI members tried to figure out how psychopaths' brains work--of creating a bad guy who is basically a serial killer at heart. That is, the bad guy may be a trifle too organized and cunning but he leaves the impression that he quite enjoyed the extra killings and might even have gone on to do more (he only messed up the last because he was becoming "disorganized" or panicking). 

What serial killer-like qualities does he have?

• He portrays zero remorse. 
• He inserts himself into the investigation. 
  
• He has an outsized opinion of his abilities (as mentioned elsewhere, serial killers aren't geniuses; they are simply trading on the human inability to imagine such awfulness). 
• He doesn't use a consistent approach to his killings but with the first two killings, he does seem to have a "type"--vulnerable woman who appear independent and are estranged from their significant others. 
• He settles on a method of killing when--as Christie often points out--a simple household accident would do the trick. 
• He can appear quite charming (as I mention with Ted Bundy, "charming" isn't an automatic with serial killers nor does it work like some kind of magic trick, but it is a classic characteristic). 

My investigators are no better than anyone else at recognizing sociopathy. However, with some training, they might be more suspicious of the bad guy than the police--or at least as  suspicious as Poirot. They might, consequently, be able to trail him and prevent the final killing. 

Note: I'm not a huge fan of profiling. If one reads Douglas's books, what becomes apparent is not the profiling but Douglas's willingness to try all kinds of approaches and investigation techniques alongside local law enforcement to catch the bad guys. That is, it is Douglas's outside-the-box thinking that makes the difference.

However, I do think that generation of profilers should be credited for upending an idea that was quite popular in the 1980s. I remember when parole was still considered some kind of magic cure by idealists, which led to a guy (I know his name, but I don't think evil smug people should be acknowledged) being released from prison because a bunch of New York intelligentsia were so impressed by his writing. He killed a young aspiring actor, Richard Adan, within a month. 

Profilers demonstrated how a socipathic personality can lie without regret, charm without blinking, produce all kinds of "oh, woe is me" reasons, swear to improve, and even--within the confines of the prison--behave well. Douglas comments that (1) he quite liked some of the serial killers he and others interviewed; (2) the FBI interviewers learned to attend these interviews armed with facts because the killers would lie their heads off; (3) good behavior in prison means absolutely nothing on the outside where real life, real chance, real challenges show up.

This type of common-sense profiling might have saved Richard Adan's life. 

Books to Movies: Return of the King & The Mouth of Sauron

In my review of The Hobbit: The Battle of Five Armies, I complain about the length of the battle. 

My biggest complaint, however, is that the 40 minutes contain way too many climaxes. There should have had two: when Thorin & Company emerge from the Erebor, and Thorin and Bilbo's final talk. 

Return of the King does much better. I know the movie was criticized for having too many endings--but I'm not bothered by THOSE extra 25+ minutes. I'm referring, rather, to the climax when the ring is finally destroyed. 

There is one "off" note in the extended version, which Jackson very smartly excised in the theater version: when Aragorn beheads the Mouth of Sauron. 

He was right to excise the scene because (1) it is a violation of the chivalric code that doesn't "shoot the messenger." I don't mind Han Solo shooting first because he is Han Solo and he does that type of thing. But Aragorn is supposed to be the high king of Middle Earth, and beheading any messenger is, in sum, "bad form." 

Jackson was also right to excise the scene because it is one too many climaxes. 

The climax of the entire trilogy is entirely dependent on Frodo and Gollum's struggle at Mount Doom. The ultimate rescue is one of Tolkien's eucastrophes. But the actual climax of book and film is the vanquishing of the ring. 

The entire sequence deserves two sub-climaxes and one major climax: Aragorn's speech; Sam's decision to carry Frodo; Frodo and Gollum's fight (which is itself the culmination of choices made by both characters). 

That's it!

Lobbing off the messenger's head is a spike in the overall climax and it gets in the way. That is, it creates a temporary feeling of relief when the entire sequence should be building up to Sauron's ultimate defeat. 

In the book, Gandalf seizes Frodo's "coat, cloak, and sword" from the Messenger and piles scorn on Sauron's minion. The Messenger retreats just as Sauron "sprang his trap." 

That is, Gandalf retrieves those things that belong to the Fellowship because Frodo was their companion, and he denounces Sauron. But in the face of what is to come, Gandalf's actions are more Norse than Greek myth--Thor raging at the dark rather than Zeus scattering evildoers. Our good guys are limited and they know it and they are doing what they do anyway. 

The triumph is all the more emphatic.  

Pacing truly is everything. 

The Prison Trope in Mysteries

A common trope in mysteries is a case that must be solved during a prison lockdown. 

It bores me only slightly less than mafia tales. And doesn't strike me as terribly different from plane or Titanic mysteries--the problem must be solved before we land! Or sink! Or die in a riot! 

The prison trope does have the merit of the mystery usually being linked to the riot in some way. In Murder She Wrote, the prison's poor conditions are linked to fraudulent behavior by several prison employees. Uncovering the reason for the first death leaves to uncovering the deceit. And Angela Lansbury does a more than credible job as the woman holding everything together. 

But. Still. I get weary of the surge in violence before the commercial break (where the commercial break obviously came when the show aired): "Oh, no, the prisoners are about to kill the hostages! Oh no, what will the detective do?!" 

One exception is the NCIS episode "Caged" with Martha Hackett as the man-killing serial killer. The episode ends with McGee proving that he can handle a difficult situation diplomatically and intelligently without losing his fundamental kindness. 

Monk sharpened and cleaned his shiv.

The prison trope still isn't one of my favorites. I always suspect that these episodes are like clairvoyant-shows-up episodes--they are thrown in there for the viewers who really, really like that kind of thing. Next week, the show can go back to less irritating crime stories.  

After all, even Due South and Monk and Bones did prison episodes. Though in all three cases here, the episodes were deliberately humorous.

Characters That Don't Change: Verne's Adventurers

It is a given in classical narration that the main characters will undergo some type of change. They will grow and develop and rejoice or despair and sink into disillusionment. They are occupants of Dante's circles, products of what they strove to become in the mortal realm. 

I more or less agree with the need for characters to change. 

There are, however, characters who remain entirely what the author established them to be. Verne's characters fall into this category. 

I write elsewhere how Jules Verne and H.G. Wells represent the two sides of the sci-fi genre. Verne belongs to the older side which focused on the world and discoveries around the characters. Wells, a decade after Verne's Journey, uses a modern approach with War of the Worlds, not only through first-person narration but through a detailed examination of the narrator's emotional state. Verne does not require this type of internal investigation. 

When Verne is put to film, however, the need for character change quite literally enters the picture. The Brendan Fraser version of Journey to the Center of the Earth provides a character searching for his parents and then having to deal with their loss. The 1959 version provides a villain and a romance as the main character, Lindenbrook played by James Mason, becomes more and more disheveled. 

Nearly every 20,000 Leagues' version stresses the choice Aronnax has to make between Ned and Nemo; in fairness to Verne, that choice is given space within the book; it just isn't as important as all the *wow* stuff Nemo drives his submarine through and around. 

The differences indicate several points: 

(1) film goers are products of a modern age that wants character development; we want more than simply a series of images or visual extravaganzas; 

(2) a liking for extravaganza lingers, however; a film that introduces us to an amazing world goes a long way to satisfying our desires--Jackson's Tolkien's films are some of the few I went to the theater to watch (rather than waiting for the DVDs) since I wanted to SEE big Middle-Earth; 

(3) nevertheless, a film requires story in a way that a book does not; I suggest one reason the book does not is not because people don't want characters to grow and change but because reading between the lines enables readers to identify characters with stories and personalities beyond what shows up on the page. 

Static characters have their place. Generally speaking, current writers need to know how to give characters weaknesses over which to stumble or conquer. But not all plots have made the same requirement because not all plots have had the same purpose. 

Like It Anyway: Little Nikita

Every few years, I check out Little Nikita with River Phoenix and Sidney Poitier. The movie has a 52-54% rating on both IMDB and Rotten Tomatoes. (It has a higher rating on Amazon, which is not unusual since Amazon ratings are often by folks renting the movie through Prime; if they are going to rent it, they already have a reason.)

In truth, the plot makes absolutely no sense. It is the ultimate McGuffin. The rogue agent, Scuba, is killing off sleeper agents supposedly to embarrass the Soviet Union (I guess), yet makes zero effort to contact any news agencies. Also, once the sleeper agents are dead, who is there left to embarrass the Soviets? If the Soviets are trying to protect their agents, why do they use the last agents to pay Scuba? Why don't they just ship them back to Moscow? And if the payment is to capture Scuba, wouldn't Scuba guess? And why are the Soviet agents so impressively bad at capturing and/or eliminating this guy? 

In the end, though, I don't care. Sure, I think a few tweaks to the script would have made it more sensible. But ultimately, again, I don't care. Phoenix's Nikita character falls into a category that I will address in a future A-Z List since I enjoy character journeys so much. He is a character in disguise, only he doesn't know he is in disguise. That part of the movie is exceptionally well-done with excellent pacing. 

And pacing is an important element of film. The movie isn't fast. It isn't slow. It is, rather, inexorable. The inevitable unveiling--the movement from one understanding of one's self to another--is what matters. 

Consequently, the exchanges between Nikita and the adult characters--his father, mother, Sidney Poitier--carry the film. Even Richard Bradford and River Phoenix in the final scenes (however nonsensical in terms of plot) are enough to keep the viewers' attention. 

 

All the Ms: Magnan to Magras

Pierre Magnan: The beginning of The Messengers of Death reminded me why I tell my students not to use the “generic” you. It’s one thing to directly address the reader. It’s another to throw the “you” into the text as if the “you” will immediately place the reader in the moment. It annoys me. The "you" for Magnan's book is unfortunate because the rest of the first chapter is quite well-written and engaging. (The book is translated from French, which means that the original opening may have used “on” which is often translated as “we.” I don’t know if “you” is better. I do think the translation choice here, if it was a choice, doesn't match the rest of the chapter.)

Joyce Magnin: The Prayers of Agnes Sparrow tackles small-town living. These types of novels can range from Precious Moments’ dolls cutesiness to dystopian where-are-the-Zombies nuttiness. The Prayers appears to be a decent product from the middle range.

Kekla Magoon:  Camo Girl is about kids dealing with adolescence. It has a strong opening.
 
Diane Magras: The Mad Wolf’s Daughter has an action-packed opening chapter! The heroine appears to be a tough, fair-minded, and practical character.

Complaint Regarding Businesses & False Promises: USPS, Amazon Third Party Vendors, and a New Community College System

Lately, I've gotten very fed up with businesses that lie. 

Recently, USPS failed to deliver a package to me on the date the package was supposed to be delivered. The excuse? The driveway was blocked. I get my mail in a cluster mailbox. The driveway was not blocked. 

USPS again: USPS stated that a priority package was delivered to my friend when actually the package was scanned as delivered but hasn't shown up at the house. 

Amazon, 3rd Partner Vendor (this event happened twice): I ordered a semi-rare item. The vendor then tried to get me to cancel my order rather than cancelling themselves. 

Here's what annoys me. It isn't, in fact, the delay in delivery or even the item being unavailable. With the second USPS issue, I'm somewhat irritated that I paid for priority shipping that didn't come through. But hey, delays happen! Life is life. 

With Amazon, sure I'm upset at not getting items I was looking forward to--but again, that kind of thing happens all the time on eBay. Life is life. 

What makes me grind my teeth is acting as if the consumer is at fault, did something wrong. 

Here's an analogy: 

I go to the local grocery store. The deli counter is advertising fried chicken at 1/2 price. I get my number, I put in an order, and I wait. 

It turns out the deli counter doesn't have any more fried chicken. Maybe, the counter legitimately ran out. Maybe, the sign is a day old. Maybe, the counter put up the sign deliberately to lure in customers. 

That is, perhaps the deli counter is honestly overworked. But maybe it is also incompetent. And maybe it is actually maliciously deceitful.  

In the moment, the reason hardly matters. All the deli counter has to say to me is, "We don't have any more fried chicken. We'll take down the sign. Sorry." And, if the business is a decent one, "Would you like salmon at 1/2 price?"

That's not what is happening. USPS actually called me the first time and told me, in sum, that I should be more understanding of how difficult things are for USPS right now. I didn't care. I wasn't upset by the late delivery. I thought USPS shouldn't make untrue claims about delivery conditions. Or charge me for a service it can't deliver on. 

With Amazon third-party vendors, the matter is worse. Wanting me to cancel for their failure (non-deliberate or deliberate) is the equivalent of the deli counter saying, "Rescind that order! Take it back! No, no, no, no, you can't ask for that. Really, you ought to apologize for asking." 

Seriously? Seriously!? 

If a business can't do something, simply stating, "We can't do that right now" is less horrible to me than claiming it can be done, not following through, and then behaving as if I messed up in some way because I requested what the business offered. 

I can be civil about mistakes. Everybody makes mistakes! But I do expect businesses not to lie. 

As Mike states on Last Man Standing, "The Free Market is the greatest thing that happened to this planet. But it only works if there's some moral compass to it."   

I'm not currently going to name the horrible intranet system that my employer bought that has not only failed to deliver but is causing ongoing problems with time, privacy, efficiency, retention, and money (the list is longer but I will stop here) for staff, students, and everyone else. (Prior systems, even the new online course system, caused momentary difficulties but not continual and wide-ranging ones.) 

I am going to reference a statement from a higher-up, which statement (sent out this fall) suggests that the issue is not the new system but the implementation: 

"As colleges strengthen their understanding of the PRODUCT'S environment, they are modifying configurations and identifying issues that have slowed operations. PRODUCT itself is also working to update the program and improve functionality." 

In other words, the community colleges bought a bad product but employees should stop complaining and understand that the product needs time to improve itself--on someone else's dime. Various departments have already reacted with letters to the board. I think there is a real fear that subsequent financial repercussions could dribble down to harm employees and students--in which case, a lawsuit may follow.   

It is events like these that make me wonder if we live in an Age of Bullies--not because bullies haven't always existed but because our social-media-impacted cultural climate gives them so many ways to excuse themselves. (I guess I should be relieved USPS, Amazon, and the higher-up didn't try to blame AI, but that kind of excuse is coming...)  

Why Jessica Fletcher is a Great Way to Write a Detective

One of the problems with any detective is How do they encounter the mystery? Truth is, most of us don't encounter dead murdered bodies on a regular basis--if at all. Encountering one is usually more than enough. 

One solution, of course, is to make the person a police officer. Another is to make the person a doctor. Another is to make the person a lawyer. 

All of those professions, however, come with a shelf-life. In fact, as Sheriff Metzger points out to Jessica, police do not encounter murder as often as television suggests. Neither do doctors. A lawyer like Matlock might encounter it more but not, of course, as often as once every week. (Boston Legal, for all its flaws, makes the correct point that many lawyers don't go to court and those cases that do go to court and involve murder are high profile.)

What makes Jessica Fletcher so workable is that she is so mobile. She is going to lots and lots of places: literary conventions, family weddings, radio shows, college campuses. Her age also gives her contact with numerous people from her past as well as her extended family, her husband's extended family, neighbors (people who lived in Cabot Cove and then moved away), and so on. Her status gives her cache, even in the United States Senate!

She also has multiple reasons for getting involved. She rarely investigates just for the fun of investigating--she is willing to let the police operate if she believes they are competent--but she finds a reason if a family member is in trouble, a neighbor asks for help, a strange event occurs that puts someone she cares about in jeopardy, someone hands her information, she is a witness, she overhears a plan...

Granted, Jessica Fletcher's contact with so many dead bodies has led to the tongue-in-cheek suggestion by fans that she is actually a serial killer. 

But her wide-ranging experiences and contacts means that she isn't spending every episode defending, say, her nephew Brady from a false accusation. She has multiple reasons to be in multiple places.

It's very, very smart writing--and one reason, I suggest, that Murder She Wrote was such a hit.

The Corrupt Bourgeois: Oh, Please Make The Archetype Go Away

It is not uncommon for Hollywood and New York Times Bestseller lists to promote, as Updike does with Gertrude & Claudius, books in which a suburban family life is seething with drugs and promiscuity underneath seeming respectability. 

In fairness to Updike, that could have been his point regarding his retelling of Hamlet. Not great drama! Just two somewhat pathetic people living out a typical intellectual trope. 

Unfortunately, the idea that suburbia is riddled with ghastly secrets and all kinds of repression is the main reason most current products with Miss Marple entirely misunderstand Christie's point. 

Christie wasn't preaching the dark underbelly of seemingly refined middle class mainstream life. She fully supported middle class mainstream life! She was pointing out that the dark underbelly of human nature on a resort wasn't too different from the dark underbelly of human nature in a village. People are much the same everywhere. 

Again, in fairness, Updike may have been making the same point. But this not-entirely-normal obsession with suburbia makes one wonder if the writers--and Hollywood--are indulging mostly in a kind of wishful thinking, in both directions: what they wish they had and what they wish would happen to all those people in those neighborhoods.

When Bones did its evil suburbia episode, the writers deliberately filled it with every supposed suburban underbelly trope. They topped all the cliches with ordinary neighbors and, ultimately, as the excuse for the murder, the utterly mundane. 

Still, Blue Bloods generally did better with Danny's neighbors: community is community. No point in dismissing it until one learns its value. 

Sandlot truly is closest to the truth.

Laid-Back Hero: Justin of The Rats of Nimh

Justin is the Captain of the Guard in Secret of Nimh (movie) and a main character in Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH (book). He greets Mrs. Frisby, jokes with Mr. Ages, defends Nicodemus, and--in the movie--confronts the villain. 

He is a rat. 

He is an animated rat. 

Why is he so hot? 

There are two points here: one, as Wall-E shows, animated characters can be entirely personable. The beauty of a body in motion can be conveyed with pixels. Personality comes through body language, expression, and voice.

The second issue goes beyond the movie. In the book and the movie, Justin is the one Mrs. F(B)risby automatically trusts and turns to. She notes that Justin is handsome with "easy confidence." Multiple characters, including the children, note that he is nice. Justin was in NIMH and Nicodemus's descriptions make clear that Justin has always been alert, clever, curious, and reliable with a non-groveling deference to Nicodemus.  

In addition, in the book, Justin potentially sacrifices himself. In the sequels, written by Robert O'Brien's daughter, Justin has survived, which I find entirely plausible, namely because I don't think NIMH would kill the rats to begin with, whatever the lab told the farmer. In the sequel, a young character has a crush on Justin despite him being engaged. 

In other words, the print Justin is as attractive as the animated Justin. When I was younger, I was--like many readers--upset at Justin's potential death. Readers get attached. 

The loveliness of Justin is his humor coupled with his nobility. Consider the remarkable and touching goofiness of Wall-E that translates into pure noble action. Consider the utter coolness of a very different character, Saitama (sort of different), who looks like the guy hanging out behind the convenience store until he decides that a certain course of action is merited. 

Justin is sweet-tempered and heroic. A lethal romantic hero combination! 

Mysteries: Plan Versus Reality

"Does anyone have a plan like ours?"

Dr. Sloan doesn't pretend to be dumb. His intelligence is a given (doctors honestly aren't any more intelligent than other people but they are perceived that way). 

Most importantly, like many detectives, Dr. Sloan is a realist. He takes people and things as they are. He doesn't imagine conspiracies and murder until he is forced to imagine them. 

Consequently, he approaches a crime with few preconceptions. He isn't easily fooled because he isn't playing by a rule book to begin with. 

One of my favorite Diagnosis Murder episodes, "Till Death Do Us Part," starts with the murderers--a spoiled daughter and her clueless fiance--imagining the murder they have planned. They imagine themselves as slick operators who impress the wedding guests at their upcoming nuptials. They imagine the victim, the father, as a jerk. They imagine his second wife, the woman they intend to frame, as snide. They imagine the murder going off without a hitch as the detectives find all the clues they planted.

The episode then switches to the actual day. The couple are vain, pompous, disorganized, and kind of stupid. The father is kindly. The stepmother smooths things over. The two murderers keep making mistakes. Items that were supposed to be in certain places get lost. The dog laps up part of the poison. The maid vacuums. And so on.

 

The imagined plan extends to the murderers' self-delusions. The groom resents his father-in-law's rejection of his completely ridiculous business proposals. The bride asks her stepmother to fetch nail polish that is already sitting on her vanity (she never bothered to check the set-up). They don't see their own arrests coming because they believe so thoroughly in their smug version of reality. 

Dr. Sloan naturally finds out the truth. He was never party to the story the murderers invented about themselves. What he sees is not what they wish to impose on others' perceptions but what they actually did. He deals in reality.