Characters Who Transform: The Disguise, Girls as Boys

One of the most classic characters archetypes is the girl disguised as a boy, and the one of the most classic examples is Violet in Twelfth Night. 

Before I continue: I am not tackling biological girls who wish to be biological boys. I am tackling a trope. 

The issue here is the disguise itself. I've argued in other places that there is something inherently satisfying about seeing a disguise ripped away, the true self or event disclosed. However, like the Beast's transformation to the prince, the disclosure brings with it other questions, such as, Was the disguise believable? Are we, the audience, happier with the "true" self or with the disguise? 

Unlike the transformation from beast to prince, the transformation of the boy back to a girl doesn't ask us to fall back in love with a completely different person in appearance. The second question isn't as much as stake as the first. 

To answer the questions, I watched two films based on Twelfth Night. Both are films where a girl pretends to be a boy, so she can get something she wants: play a sport--soccer--in one case; enter a journalism contest in the other. 

She's the Man

The movie works to a huge extent because of Amanda Bynes. She is hilarious.

It also helps that in the sport she wants to play, she ends up, initially, on the second string. She was the best on the women's team at her previous school. She has the hand-eye coordination and the kicking skills that Eve demonstrates in Last Man Standing. But she simply, in reality, doesn't have the stamina of a young Channing Tatum. 

She practices, acquires more skills, and moves up. It isn't entirely believable but somewhat more believable than her being, say, forward tackle.

The Malvolio character is one of the cleverest characters, being the overly rule-conscious dorm leader. He thinks he has figured out the switch--until Sebastian comes back from abroad and ends up a very confused player in place of his sister on the soccer field. 

Would Shakespeare have objected to the resulting nudity jokes?

Nope!

Just One of the Guys

Joyce Hyser as the Viola character makes a somewhat more realistic, if pretty, boy than Bynes--so much so that the scenes of Terry with Rick/Duke Orsino are somewhat more interesting than the scenes with Terry as upset girl. In fact, the end would have been far funnier, in the French farce sense, if Terry and Rick had let the prom attendees believe they were two guys making out. 

The plot less directly follows the play. It is also full to the brim with 1980s scatological teen and pop culture jokes, which--again--is totally appropriate to Shakespeare. The Malvolio character is a dull-witted bully who is vanquished at the end.

The movie plays more directly with gender roles but, as mentioned above, pulls back from being as funny as it could be.

Of the two, She's the Man is more satisfying as a full story: it showcases more Viola-having-to-change-in-a-flash opportunities plus everybody loving the wrong person shenanigans. And Viola does help win the soccer game at the end!

As for the question--is it believable?--in both cases, the premise becomes its own excuse. That is, in certain cases, I believe the audience simply accepts (or is expected to accept) that certain things work, like magic rules in fantasy being consistent and therefore believable. As long as the rules are kept, we, the audience accept the result. So...male and female twins entirely resemble each other and nobody will guess, until told, that a boy is actually a girl. 

I suggest that the suspension of belief (or disbelief) also works here because Shakespeare's play doesn't focus exclusively on the "mix-up" but on the people involved. 

A-Z Characters & Transformation: Jean Valjean

Jean Valjean is one of the best known transformed characters within literature. He became especially well-known within my generation...and not (necessarily) because we read the book. The main reason was the 10th Anniversary Concert.

The 10th Anniversary Concert fully deserves all the praise it gets--in fact, I prefer that type of "musical" to a full stage production. I also consider Colm Wilkinson one of the best Valjeans on record. 

In the book and in the concert, Jean Valjean, an escaped convict, steals from a bishop. The bishop not only forgives him but gives him the candlesticks that Valjean stole. After this event, Valjean is a changed man. He saves Fontine, saves Cosette, saves Marius. And his change is more than surface deep. He isn't doing good things on a checklist. He has become a certain type of man. 

This inner change is demonstrated, interestingly enough, when he refuses to abandon Marius in his confrontation with Javert. That is, he places his obligation to a fellow human above his obligation to Javert. In the book, he is somewhat more respectful but since he already let Javert go once, he has gained a kind of ascendancy with Javert that Javert, as the ending proves, does not understand.   

My question was: Could the man undergo such a change? 

I posed the same question with Scrooge. Valjean is infinitely more believable, in part because of the time frame. Valjean may not have changed all at once. He saves Cosette and spends a lifetime doing good--all leading up to the moment in the sewers with Javert. 

Still--he changes from one direction to another. 

In the musical, Valjean performs a soliloquy.  

What have I done? Sweet Jesus, what have I done?
Become a thief in the night, become a dog on the run
Have I fallen so far and is the hour so late
That nothing remains but the cry of my hate?
The cries in the dark that nobody hears
Here where I stand at the turning of the years

Great number! Nevertheless, I went to the book, at which point I became seriously impressed by the musical's writers. 

In the book, Valjean is stunned by the bishop's behavior. He wanders until he ends up in a lane where he encounters a young boy from whom he inadvertently takes a sous--he also scares the lad. When he realizes what he has done, he is swamped with remorse. He tries to find the boy but fails. He then goes and prays at the bishop's door. 

The scene of inadvertently stealing the sous is remarkable because it is small event--nothing as large as Valjean's previous act of stealing a bishop's candlesticks. But it brings home to Valjean the type of person he has become and what he needs to do to change. 

In other words, his self-revelation echoes the lyrics. One can believe that this guy is fully aware of what it means to do better, not at a superficial level (I simply won't get caught the next time!) or a rule level (Let's see: how can I get God's blessings and how many can I get?) but at the human level (That boy didn't deserve to be scared.)

Shortly after the 10th anniversary special, every sermon at church seemed to make reference to Valjean, Valjean and the bishop, and so on. And honestly, the tribute is well-deserved and certainly preferable to people quoting from other people's sermons. Fiction can provide insight into the human condition.  

A-Z Characters That Transform: The Unknowns

A few characters in literature remain unnamed: the narrator of Daphne Du Maurier's Rebecca; the narrator of The Turn of the Screw by Henry James. 

(There is also the marvelous narrator of Sarah Caudwell's books, Hilary Tamar--Hilary's gender is never provided. The excellent writing proves that gender can be disguised/avoided without confusing people unnecessarily and clumsily with plural pronouns.)   

Both these unknown narrators change/adapt/grow--which is not a given with first-person but is often likely. To a degree, first-person brings the reader into the narrator's mind, and if the mind doesn't change...

(Interestingly enough, The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time by Mark Haddon, told entirely in first-person, is told by a character who changes incrementally but not substantially. He learns new things, so he undergoes external change. But his personality remains fairly static. When the book came out and was extremely popular, I read it, thought it was a decent read, and moved on. A friend of mine said, "By the time I finished, I wanted to be out of the boy's head." I admired the honesty, and I suspect that one reason first-person narration is USUALLY more about internal change is that readers expect it.) 

The narrator of Rebecca definitely undergoes a change--not in her personality but in her maturity. She is the stronger member of the couple, but she grows into her strength since she arrives on the manor young and inexperienced and diffident. The book is a believable tour de force. Although I thought Joan Fontaine was utterly wrong for Jane Eyre, I consider her perfect in Hitchcock's Rebecca.  

The narrator of the Turn of the Screw changes but the entire point of the book is that the change could be either external OR internal. Either she started out naive but sane and creepy events ganged up on her OR she started out slightly unbalanced and became fully nuts. 

In both cases, the writing delivers: both authors capture the show-not-tell force of the narrators' changes. That is, their writing skills communicates the change, not the first-person narrators saying, "Oh, yes, and then I changed."  

A-Z Characters Who DON'T Transform: Thumbelina

My current A-Z lost tackles characters who transform, internally or externally. I have also tackled what doesn't constitute transformation. Although Alice in Wonderland undergoes a transformation in location and even to her person, the changes don't constitute a transformation in the sense that her life moves forward from a new perspective, through a new choice, or by a new set of expectations. 

Thumbelina falls into the same category. For one, it is an Hans Christian Andersen tale and has a tone/theme typical of Andersen, which means it barely escapes evoking a skin-crawling sensation: poor victimized Thumbelina who barely escapes being married to an ugly mole. Luckily, a beautiful soulful bird and then a prince come along.

The other similarity is that Thumbelina doesn't transform, not even like another of Andersen's characters, the Ugly Duckling. How Thumbelina is perceived changes. Her circumstances change. But everything is mostly chance or luck. 

Transformation, even external, is more organic. You here. Now you are here doesn't constitute transformation.

A-Z Characters & Transformation: Sam, Of Course

Sam from Tolkien's Lord of the Rings is another character who may not, on the surface, appear to transform. He remains steadfastly loyal and despite his momentary banishment in the movie, he never truly leaves Frodo's side. His personality remains steadfast, practical, virtuous, realistic--wonderful qualities that culminate in his decision to carry Frodo up part of Mount Doom. Some readers consider him the more heroic of the two since he never caves.

I don't agree since I think the burden Frodo carries is by necessity doomed to corrupt him. His heroism lies in choices made BEFORE the trek to Mount Doom, and in his remarkable endurance to keep stepping forward. He is the Fisher King. 

I also think that although the book culminates with Sam's decision at Mount Doom, his history--as written down by Tolkien--makes clear that Sam at the end is not the same Sam at the beginning. The journey did change him or, perhaps, crystallized those qualities that make him a capable and fair leader. He is voted as Mayor in the Shire up until he departs, in his elder years, for the Grey Havens. 

Sam is touched by grace in the same way as Frodo. Unlike with some of the other members of the Fellowship, he doesn't change direction or waffle over a decision or obviously gain experience--yet he comes out a hobbit who could not be anything but changed.  

Tolkien knew how to write heroism in everyday life.  

A-Z Characters Who Transform: Miller's Holmes

I'm reposting the below in connection with my A-Z Characters Who Transform list. 

* * * 

Generally, Sherlocks don't change. They arrive on the scene, practically sui generis, cocky, full of opinions, unrelenting, forces of nature. The genius who must, to a degree, be allowed-for. 

I don't mind (generally). But I will confess: I like Jonny Lee Miller's Holmes the best since he does, in fact, subtly transform--not to the extent that he changes personality. But to the extent necessary to adapt. 

It isn't really a contest. Although I still consider Jeremy Brett's Holmes to be definitive, I get a kick out of Benedict Cumberbatch's interpretation (though I mostly watch Sherlock for Martin Freeman).

But I actually like Jonny Lee Miller's Holmes.

In many ways, Miller's interpretation is closer to Brett's than Cumberbatch's. His Holmes is less austere than Brett's (although the drug issue is just as strongly referenced, more so than in Sherlock). More importantly, he exudes Brett's kindliness.

Visually, he isn't as tall as either Brett or Cumberbatch, being more compact (a build that I find enormously attractive). On paper, Sherlock Holmes is supposed to be tall and lanky, yet I rarely notice Miller's height either way, possibly because of how he carries himself--and also possibly because he is paired with the petite Lucy Liu.

Mostly, what I like about Miller's Holmes is his desire for functionality. Unlike the other Holmes and, for that matter, Simon Baker's Jane, Miller's Holmes seems salvageable. He appears to WANT to understand people, get along with people, function alongside people. He has all House's honesty without the need to batter people into submission. When he occasionally provides Watson with personal information, he lets the information stand; he doesn't rush immediately to protect himself (or attack others). 

It makes him a far more relatable Holmes--yet, I don't find the interpretation too sweet or cozy. Miller's Holmes is a real (brilliant) guy who might actually be more than just Mr. Supersmart Detective someday.

All this is helped by the fact that Miller's Holmes and Liu's Watson have just about the best sexual chemistry I've ever seen on a show (and I am including Bones and Booth). So much so--I can't help but wonder: How exactly are the writers going to keep them from falling into bed together, like, tomorrow? [Despite my doubts, I am impressed that they didn't have them fall in bed together.]

It's possible that the writers will employ the Scully-Mulder solution: ignore the possibility of romance until it becomes absolutely necessary. 

And I must say: Miller-Liu are the closest thing I've seen to Duchovny-Anderson in a very long time. The episodes focus on the functional aspect of their close relationship. Consequently, the episodes emphasize Holmes's need to be functional in order to accomplish his short-term ends (the case) and his long-term ends (to protect Watson and eventually her child). 

In order to be that functional, he needs to adapt--and he does!  

A-Z Characters & Transformation: Scrooge

Scrooge is one of the best-known transformative heroes! 

In truth, Scrooge is not entirely believable. Dickens does a fine job preparing readers for the final transformation. He establishes that Scrooge was a lonely boy who became a sensible if workaholic young man who had the chance to marry the love of his life. He was, once upon a time, a friendly, sweet-natured guy, who turned into a "scrooge" due to his own choices and the bitterness of life.

Okay. But the end does leave one pondering whether the bitterness of life can be wiped out in a single night. Where exactly does personality come from if not one's choices and the exigencies of life? Can a person utterly undo what has made him or her a certain way in one fell swoop?

The best approach is to indicate that the Scrooge is changing perspective, not personality. In Joanna Chambers "Humbug," the thirty-something Scrooge, Quin, is inherently obsessive. That is, his personality is such that no matter what he does, he has to go at it to the nth degree. He gets into the consulting game by accident but once he is there, of course, he's going to be the best consultant ever whose team is also the "best". He's on the fast-track to becoming a manager.

Problem: the gig isn't totally in line with his personality, so he becomes--as characters in the story repeatedly tell him--a "dick." He later tells Rob, the Bob Crachit character, "I think [this job] brings out the worst in me."  Instead of becoming the kind of leader whose team is the best because they admire him and feel appreciated, he becomes (is becoming) the kind of leader who wrings work out of people through unreasonable demands and sheer sarky irritation. He is acting in accordance with what he believes to be the "role" of manager--and he does it well, but it makes him absolutely unpleasant to be around. 

After his epiphany, he returns to his first plan to be a math teacher. And here is where Joanna Chambers really knocks the characterization out of the park: because of course, Quin has to be the BEST teacher. Only this time, what he wants and what he brings to the table are in line. He'll get in his students' faces ("They'll love you," Rob says, "because you're sarky"). He'll get in their parents' faces. He'll tick off the school board but still win. The aggressive energy that makes him unlikable in one field (that he doesn't feel at home in) will make him an excellent advocate in another.

Quin is a Scrooge whose tweaks to his life believably result in a much, much happier life in the long-run. 

Another good "Scrooge" who undergoes believable changes is Phil from Groundhog Day. 

Phil is unique because his changes are linked to a romantic attachment. Although the original Scrooge lost a great love--the scene earns a song in The Muppet Movie--few movie/television versions of the book reunite him with that great love. Likewise, The Grinch doesn't start dating at the end--not in the picture book or animated feature anyway. And although Russ from The Kid has a girlfriend/wife waiting in his future, his change is due to a visit from a "ghost of Christmas past," not the potential significant other.

Yet, the repentant hero in Groundhog Day does have a romantic attachment.

The difference lies in the character arc. Original Scrooge undergo an internal realignment. The internal change is shown through external images and events. With Groundhog Day, on the other hand, the change is about the main character learning to get along with other people. 

Original Scrooge alters internally and shows that internal alteration through his treatment of others. 

Phil learns how to change internally by how he treats others--including a life insurance salesman!--better day by (same) day.  

I think that both types of change/epiphany are possible. But Phil is possibly a little more believable. Rather than an about-face (which could undo itself at any moment), he progresses over time. 

A-Z Characters & Transformation: Ruth and Rahab, Radical External Change

My current A-Z List tackles characters who transform. I mention in my post about Kate from Taming of the Shrew, 

I use "transform" throughout this list from its narrowest to its broadest sense. That is, a character may transform internally or externally, for good or for bad, slightly or to an extreme, beneath a mask or without a mask. 

Ruth and Rahab from the Old Testament undergo external transformation. They also represent the point of view of Jews within the Jewish diaspora. As parts of what became the Old Testament were being collected, Jewish populations were debating various perspectives. Ruth and Rahab represent a particular position on marriage--namely, that marriage of "foreigners" is acceptable (Ezra represents an opposing position).

As transformative characters, Ruth and Rahab are remarkable. They don't simply change location and group identity--they do it in ways that leave a lasting impression. 

They make these changes without giving up their selves. Ruth debates Naomi (another powerhouse) kindly yet confidently. Rahab is utterly unapologetic. They are not even vaguely victims, despite desperate circumstances (dead husband, besieged city). They are level-headed women who make decisions and accept the consequences--in both cases while protecting others (mother-in-law, entire household). 

I wrote stories about both Ruth and Rahab, one sci-fi, one historical. These woman are tough enough to survive any context.  

A-Z Characters & Transformation: The Queen Who Transforms Yet Remains Herself

Extreme transformation is attractive--but careful transformation is more believable. In my master's program, New England Studies, Anne Hutchinson may have attracted more attention (Look how she stood up to the patriarchal system!) but I always found Anne Bradstreet more interesting. In truth, I don't think it is that hard to "buck" the system--though it can be unpleasant when the system doesn't budge and a person gets squashed instead (Anne Hutchinson was exiled). 

Survival and adaptation within the system, however, is far more difficult, thoughtful, and ongoing. Anne Bradstreet married and raised kids and led the life of a Puritan woman within her community--and she also wrote poetry and got published. 

Anne Bradstreet reminds me of Queen Elizabeth II in The Queen starring Helen Mirren. The queen doesn't decide half-way through the movie to tout disestablishmentarian. She doesn't abandoned her identity, doesn't give up her royal title. She also doesn't perform one of those classic "yell at everyone for being jerks" scenes. 

She believes in her role and obligations. She believes in the grandeur of the monarchy she represents. She also worries about its possible obsolesce. She adjusts. She adapts to a specific set of circumstances. 

(And she's played by Helen Mirren.)

Consequently, one of my favorite parts of the film is when she returns to Buckingham Palace and forces herself to inspect the flowers for a dead woman who poured scorn on her and her office. 

As she turns to the crowd, a young child extends flowers. Queen Elizabeth assumes they are for the memorial but no, the child replies, they are for the queen. 

As she moves along the row, the woman at the rope courtesy to her, at first mostly older women but, as she proceeds, younger ones too. 

At the same time that she is adjusting to unusual circumstances, she is shown respect for herself, the person who adapts to her times without losing herself. 

Quincy, Luther's Dog: Great Character Actor

In my most recent A-Z List, I've been exploring characters that change. 

One of the funniest non-human examples is Luther's dog Quincy. 

Quincy is a basset hound. As the guy at the pound says, "A ficus tree and basset hound are pretty much the same thing." 

Except--

Quincy will go crazy when he is left alone or when he sees certain people/colors. So, he destroys the band room and later attacks the band director. 

The hilarity of these moments is how entirely sleepy and unaffected Quincy looks when he appears on-screen--as compared to what people hear him doing or hear about him doing. 

Rather touchingly, Quincy also changes in terms of getting older and eventually dying. That is, he lives a full pet life with Luther, who is equally impacted by Quincy. Eventually, Luther ends up with a new "little" Quincy.  

A-Z Characters & Transformation: The Little Princess

On my list of Characters Who Transform, I am now tackling princes and princesses. 

As mentioned at the beginning of this list, some transformation are internal. Others are external. The transformation of Sarah's life in The Little Princess is entirely external. 

External transformations are quite effective. Still--many children's novels usually also rely on an internal transformation. Mary Lennox and Colin Craven from The Secret Garden, for instance, change their looks and lives outwardly, but that outward transformation is occupied by an inward epiphany or resolution. Edmund and Eustace from The Narnia Chronicles are further good examples. Even Lucy Pevensie undergoes moments of shame and cowardice. 

Frances Hodgson Burnett created two child protagonists who are good and kind and pretty much flawless from the get-go. It is to her credit that the books are so strong. 

Both are like royalty, though they are not technically royal: Cedric, Little Lord Fauntleroy and Sarah, the Little Princess. 

Both children do suffer heartache, including, for Cedric, homesickness, and, for Sarah, weary depression. However, neither of them ever commits wrongs, even when pressed to the wall. 

Again, to Hodgson Burnett's credit, neither of them come across as self-righteous and self-satisfied. Cedric suffers a bit from being almost too good to be true (it's that suit!) but Sarah comes across as more resilient than Pollyannish. 

In both cases, too, the protagonists suffer from external conflicts and are rescued by external means. I submit that one reason Hodgson Burnett is able to pull off this feat is because the rescues are so thoroughly delightful and overwhelming. They are true "deus ex machinas"--however, they don't seem random but rather extraordinarily satisfying.  

I mean, if one is going to throw in a rescue, one might as well go BIG! 

It's not a plot choice I suggest writers rely on too often. Even Tolkien said, of the eagles, that they were "machines" and shouldn't be relied on too much (his eagles only come after the protagonists have, in fact, descended into the pit--they are not purveyors for grace; grace is already provided since death is not an automatic negative; rather, the eagles are purveyors of life being far more interesting when characters are still alive). 

Again, a lesser writer could never pull off what Hogdson Burnett accomplishes in her books. And I suggest that one reason that she succeeds is that, like with Tolkien's eagles, the character are already doing okay. Sarah would likely, eventually, simply take over the school or at least move on to a better one. Cedric is already beloved by his grandfather, whatever happens to his birthright.  

A-Z Characters & Transformation: Is the Transforming Royal Fact or Fiction?

In my latest A-Z list--Characters who Transform--I've reached Prince and Princesses. 

A remarkable number of fictional prince and princesses have transformed, from bad people to good ones; from being in disguise to being revealed. 

Prince Hal is supposedly one of the former. In reality, he never went through a dissolute phase and even in Henry IV, Parts 1 & 11, Shakespeare remarkably has him confess, in monologue, that he is mostly playacting. He is quite clear with Falstaff, even as prince, that Falstaff's influence on him is negligible and will eventually die. 

But the IDEA of a playboy reforming to be a good king is too good to pass up. It's the underlying character evolution of Gilgamesh! So the oldest tale on record has a prince (he is actually a king when the tale begins) acting like a playboy and annoying his citizens--until Enkidu comes along. It is Enkidu's death that propels Gilgamesh to hunt for answers to something larger than "hey, yo, how drunk should we get today?" Upon his return to the city, he retakes his place as a wise and productive sovereign. 

The manga and anime, Royal Tutor, presents a back story of a not-exactly-playboy prince but a prince who doesn't seem to be all that aware of his citizens' needs...until he begins to sneak out at night and pal around with Heine. Likewise, Mark Twain uses growth with his prince whose disguise allows him to learn about real life. 

In C.S. Lewis's quest tale, The Silver Chair, the prince is enchanted (disguised) as a kind of blithe, unthinking playboy (with a mommy complex). When he is chained to the silver chair, his underlying nature is revealed: he is, in fact, a prince in captivity. I think it would be quite easy to back-write a playboy attitude into the prince's character development. He is ensnared by the enchantress when his mother dies but, seriously, what was he doing rushing off to act all angsty around the first smooth-talking fae who crossed his path...rather than sticking by his dad and assuming more responsibilities? 

In the above cases, trials hone the prince into someone who CAN be a good king. 

I'm not sure that outside of narratives, this type of honing is a given: Prince Harry doesn't seem to have imbibed the American idea that work = virtue. I suspect that politicians and celebrities are so cushioned by sycophants, they require a certain amount of chutzpah to see through the fawning to begin with.  

A-Z Characters & Transformation: The Surprise Reveal or What the Audience Truly Wants

In one of his discussions on horror, Stephen King points out that the human brain can imagine greater horrors within a text than a film can capture. Granted, there are exceptions. I watched the black & white French Les Diaboliques as a student. All of us in the theater gasped-as-one at the great reveal. 

So often, however, these moments run the risk of falling somewhat flat. The "man behind the curtain" turns out to be...

The Wizard of Oz. A conman (or a couple of Ferengi) who is not what everyone thought. Not a grand spectacle--just an ordinary guy pulling wires. 

With Baum's Oz, the almost random ordinariness of "O" is rather the point: "A little old man with a bald head and a wrinkled face." He readily admits to being a "humbug" though he argues, "I'm really a very good man, but I'm a very bad Wizard, I must admit."  

Seeing as the book is, possibly, a dream of Dorothy's, the non-surprise here makes sense. It may also explain why I don't care for the book. I have a hard enough time with the dreamlike sequences in Miyazaki's work--but they at least seem to capture a feeling of transcendence. The Wizard of Oz comes across as a very long in-joke, which I find unsettling. 

But again, Baum is a good-enough writer to use the "reveal" as is. The "thing" behind the curtain will not live up to expectations, so the story addresses those disappointed expectations. 

Another solution to the gap between what viewers/readers imagine and what the lifted curtain presents is to give away the reveal. In Heaven's Official Blessing, Xie Lian--and the reader--are fairly sure of the true identity of San Lang. It isn't exactly a secret--it simply isn't addressed until necessary. Likewise, the audience knows the twins in Twelfth Night are alive, even if they do not.

Which suggests that the reveal isn't for the characters' sake. Rather, it is artistically satisfying for the audience to watch the confrontation, the reveal, the ripped-off disguise. We know it is coming: we still want to see it happen.   

(Regarding the placement of Oz on this list, Characters Who Transform: the character doesn't transform, but his transformation or reveal alters the main characters: the impact of the reveal is greater on others than on the character.)  

A-Z Characters & Transformation: Nero Wolfe, The Untransforming Detective

My latest A-Z List is characters who transform. I also address characters who don't transform: what constitutes transformation; what doesn't. 

One of the most amusing non-transformations is book detectives who remain the same age over several decades. It's rather like TV detectives who never retire (though Murdoch, who begins his career in the series at approximately 35 is still believably working 18 years later, and the series does move forward in time, so every season is the next year in the early 1900s). 

Miss Marple, Poirot, Nero Wolfe--they all remind me of my left-brain father getting frustrated when my mother began to lose her memory and talked about her parents as still being alive. He would growl, "They would be 130 years old!" 

Rex Stout reputedly stated about Nero Wolfe, "I didn't age the characters because I didn't want to." I LOVE that. Some authors get apologetic. Others, like Sayers, intend to age their characters from the beginning (Wimsey marries when he is 45). But Rex Stout apparently perceived his mystery stories the way I perceive sci-fi: put THIS character into a situation and see how the character handles it, whether the situation is pre-World War II or a 1960s bohemian neighborhood--

Which may explain why Nero Wolfe has proved so "translatable"!  

A-Z Characters & Transformation: Transformed Monsters, Justification or Truth?

Many, many people have written stories from The Monster's perspective, whether the Monster is Grendel or a serial killer. In truth, these stories aren't the product of modern psychology. The tradition goes back to Shelley's Frankenstein and even farther. 

The desire to creep into the "other's" mind and understand it is very old. The Epic of Gilgamesh presents a point where Humbaba, the giant or ogre that Enkidu and Gilgamesh have come to kill, presents his "side" and pleads for his life. Arguably, he is lying to waste time (Enkidu and Gilgamesh kill him anyway). But he gets a surprising amount of dialog. 

My favorite example of a justifying Monster is The Dracula Tape by Fred Saberhagen. Using Bram Stoker's own text, Dracula argues that he has been massively misunderstood. His "truth-telling" is  fun because he isn't entirely trustworthy. Ambiguous. Sarcastic. He doesn't present a Dracula transformed into a decent, virtuous, sacrificing hero. Rather, his "truth-telling" transforms him into...a guy who isn't quite as bad as people say.  

Monsters who turn out to be UTTERLY unlike their original characters are a little too much, like stories which turn out to dreams. Far better to have a Smaug who speaks half-truths than a Smaug who uses Bilbo as his personal therapist. 

Monsters should never be entirely stripped of their monster-selves, even when transformed.  

A-Z Characters & Transformation: Lionel from Christie's Nemesis

Lionel, the nephew of Miss Marple, is a great example of a character who transforms--

And he isn't in the book! 

In the Joan Hickson Miss Marple movie Nemesis, Lionel is Miss Marple's waffling nephew who shows up in St. Mary Mead when he is at loose ends. He accompanies his aunt when she starts out on the pilgrimage/investigation set in motion by Jason Rafiel. 

From a writing perspective, the change here is perfect--on the page, Miss Marple can think about her task and review her options. But absent a voiceover (and I generally side against voiceovers), a film requires conversation. As a physically strong man with an ironic sense of humor and complete willingness to follow his aunt's lead, Lionel (played by Peter Tilbury), makes a great companion. He also acts well opposite Joan Hickson since he carries a touch of camp about his mild persona. 

And he changes. The film is far more generous with all the male characters, including Mr. Rafiel's estranged son Michael. One of the most touching scenes is when Lionel takes the initiative (finally) to track down Michael and gently inform him of the investigation's conclusion. 

The transformation is gently done--it doesn't distract from Miss Marple's work and triumph. As all good transformations should be, it is all show, no tell. Lionel doesn't become someone else. He remains Lionel, only a more grounded and experienced Lionel.  

He also doesn't distract from the plot. Overall, the film is quite faithful to the book. 

Excellent writing!  

A-Z Characters & Transformation: Does Kate of Taming of the Shrew Transform?

I questioned whether I should include Katherine from Taming of the Shrew on my A-Z Characters Who Transform List. Does she transform? She gets married. She remains married. She defends her husband in the play's climatic ending. But is she truly "tamed"?

First, I see Petruchio and Kate as distinct people. They aren't representative of men and women. They are Petruchio and Kate.  

A great many people, however, feel that the relationship must be explained or justified in some way. One common interpretation is to argue that Petruchio is trying to "help" Katherine by teaching her social rules. The version I saw during my Theatre in London program used this interpretation (and was one of the few to use the frame story). It is the same interpretation used by the BBC version, John Cleese as Petruchio. 

It is unbelievably sexist. 

It is far more sexist than Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton behaving like...Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton. Elizabeth Taylor's Kate hasn't been trained (like a poodle) to play a social game (join the right clique, flatter the correct people, use the proper vocabulary). She is a force of nature who comes up against another force of nature and finds she is willing to fight it out. At the end, she is still able to leave him guessing.   

My absolute favorite version, however, is Shakespeare Retold's with Shirley Henderson and Rufus Sewell. Sewell's Petruchio is frankly kind of nuts. Henderson's Kate is this tiny bundle of super-intelligent political acerbity. They adore each other. At the end, she tells off her bratty sister. She is willing to give up everything for Petruchio. He is willing to give up everything for her. What's the problem?

This Katherine isn't tamed. If anything, her true self--what has always been her true self--gets concentrated and distilled. 

Fantastic couple! 

As for the initial question--I use "transform" throughout this list from its narrowest to its broadest sense. That is, a character may transform internally or externally, for good or for bad, slightly or to an extreme, beneath a mask or without a mask. 

At the end of the play, the character of Kate is no longer single and she is happier. 

So, yes, in that sense, she does transform!  

A-Z Characters & Transformation: The Ultimate Transformation Tale, Joseph of Old

Joseph of Old is the Old Testament's most complete epic. One of its most endearing qualities is that it embodies--in a way that few epics do other than the Epic of Gilgamesh--change, even transformation. 

The transformation is not only external but internal; not only directly stated but implied. 

Externally, Joseph himself transforms from farmer to urbanite powerbroker. 

Internally, his oldest brothers transform from envious to repentant. The change is focused not on the oldest son but on Judah (which explains the odd little tale of Judah and the prostitute in the middle of the epic). It is Judah who offers himself in Benjamin's place. 

Joseph transforms internally from distrust to trust. He embraces his brothers, implying forgiveness. After Jacob's death, he assures the brothers that his forgiveness goes beyond filial obedience. He will not take revenge on them at any time. 

It's a remarkable story and lends itself to endless interpretations around a coherent whole. The first "fan fiction" I ever wrote was about Joseph. The computer ate the document, and I never tried to start over. I realized that I didn't have much to add (beyond Mann and Andrew Lloyd Weber) since I think the original holds up fairly well. Unlike with various fairy tales, I didn't think a "true" version was lurking underneath.

The tale Of Joseph stands quite well without "fixes." There's a reason great epics last with so much intact! 

I recommend the Genesis Project/New Media version:    

Part 1 

Part 2 

Part 3 

Part 4 

Part 5