My apologies for my lateness! I thought each of these journals were to be posted two weeks apart from my quick reading of the schedule, so this is a week late. However, now it is here and I have learned a good deal from this last section.
In these pages I felt that Vogler's writing took a leap into profoundness. It was already a strong book, but this section held more intrigue for me, perhaps it's simply because of the archetypes discussed at this point.
I did not expect such a detailed discussion on gender, the self, and sexuality within the archetype of the shapeshifter. I found those handful of pages to be enlightening. Much of the ideas in Vogler's book are already floating in my head, but he has a way of pegging them down and giving those ideas clarity, direction, and in a way, authority. The psychological side of the shapeshifter makes sense to me and seems to go somewhat hand-in-hand with the shadow archetype considering we as people can only be so much of the possibilities in our minds. I think if we tried to be the full spectrum of possibilities it could overwhelm us to the point of an explosion. To be a certain gender, or in a certain situation rather, will more than likely require suppressing some qualities -- which this can get crazy, but perhaps the real question is what is healthy suppression vs. unhealthy suppression. I'm thinking along these lines because I feel that some of the most sagacious characters have a stealthy amount of suppression to the point of almost being androgynous. Maybe the real battle is how to not be consumed by one's gender or sexuality but to be master over it, but how does one master one's self so as to be who they really are intended to be? I think taking a closer examination of what's ticking inside our skulls is close, yet not a perfect answer -- I don't think there is a solid, perfect answer to hold onto when trying to figure out who we are. For one I don't think there's only one best available version of one's self but rather there's multiple best versions. As with perfection, first: it is an unattainable reality that ironically I think is harmful and causes people to avoid progress. Second: we're imperfect beings so our minds can only go so far.
There's a great deal that can be said of gender and why we express it the way we do; there's both biological and sociological reasons for how our gender comes out into performance. I find this topic fascinating because it runs close to how much is will and how much is destined which I think is one of the more worthwhile topics for writers as freewill and destiny is tied so greatly to plot and character. If you don't know the characters' desires and senses of will, then what is going to be their objective(s)?
I think the shapeshifter chapter in itself brought too many ideas to the forefront of my mind. Generally, my-go-to shapeshifters are from comic books: the one's who actually have the ability of a shapeshifter like Mystique and whatever the shapeshifter is in Spiderman. I think why this chapter caught my attention so much is that it brought the idea of a shapeshifter to a more human level rather than the more glorified, and macro superhero ideal (which magnifying traits to a superhero level is helpful at least for me in being able to understand theory).
As with the shadow archetype, there were a lot of dark villains brought up in the text that after awhile began to make my mind feel uncomfortable. Thinking about Hannibal Lecter kind of grosses me out, which means he's an incredible antagonist but knowing how sinister he is and yet helpful is not exactly something I like to contemplate; essentially, to me Vogler gives that character too much credit in saying that he reveals our humanity -- cannibalism, at least for me, is beyond humanity. Maybe this reveals my own humanity, but downright eating people isn't on my menu. I'd rather die then have to be in such terrible conditions that my only way of survival... is that. I may blame the English department that I know intimately how I feel about cannibalism since this scenario comes up and I've thought for some time along these lines:
"Okay, if I'm shipwrecked on some island and there's no food but the people I'm with, would it be more ethical to eat people to survive or just bloody accept fate and die... because I'm going to die eventually, so why add cannibalism to perhaps a well-lived life?" Oh, the things I write at 2:53AM.
What I wish that Vogler had done is expand more on the last paragraph on shadows. There was a lighter passage where he stated that the shadow could be a place of unbridled potential such as creativity, the other side of choices, etc. Shadows don't have to be the evil we're trying to hide under the rug, and I think that the what-could-have-beens and why-didn't-I put-more-time-into-this gifts are more at the heart of people than what we try to bury. I speculate on my ideas here, but it would probably depend on what you are trying to bury. If you have a deep dark secret, like murder, I think that would be consuming of one's psyche, where if we struggle with lesser evils, I would bargain that we would be less cognitive of what those evils are in us because they're not as pressing (or hold as much burden) on our lives. I would say that daily, normal bad things we do... suck and frustrate us. We should for our own being try to denounce our evils, but in the foreground of our minds I think we more predominately look at "the roads not taken." Perhaps the antagonist is merely the result of the opposite of our own choices that eventually is bound to meet us in our own space and time.
I think the things we don't do are more haunting and relatable for the audience than perhaps -- huge deafening secrets, not necessarily tragedies like the loss of a loved one or disease, but I mean secrets like murder and affairs -- then again affairs are more common than I like so maybe these two types of shadows are in the same league of relatable. I don't know, I'm just theorizing. I will admit that in reading about shadows it challenged me to consider how to bring more empathetic moments to my villains. There are some downright evil villains I think who succeed by not having any humanistic qualities about them, they just want to destroy for the sake of destroying -- the extreme nihilists. I don't feel like the recent Joker for the batman trilogy had a great deal of backstory for the audience to feel as though he needed our empathy (there's no family, no Harle, not even a past circus story where Robin might be related.) Kefka from the Final Fantasy series is still considered one of the greatest video game villains and I think in part that is because he has no backstory -- he attempts to destroy the world and own it and he succeeds in this. I think villains need just a touch of empathy on part of the viewer, but they don't need to be too softened. I think if we apply too much of the same strategy to our antagonists as we do our protagonists that it's like treating different food groups the same way with cooking, which isn't necessarily going to give either food group the best, salivating flavor.
The last group in the book (the trickster) is one of my all time favorites. (The ally which is written in the journal assignment isn't listed as an archetype in the book.) I think it's the dynamic of sadness and humor that catches my eye for the trickster. Most tricksters are there to help push the drama along, say a few jokes, but underneath it they usually have some rather intriguing pensive and melancholy emotions. Perhaps its because the fool has many jokes that are at the expense of the self and thus there's a sense of loss. There are many tricksters who don't have this sad dimension to them, such as I would say for the most part Bugs Bunny, but I think if you want to round a trickster... understanding their sadness is key.
While reading I was rather spellbound that rabbits are a universal symbol for tricksters. I love finding those type of unconscious symbols that society pulps around -- so the whole idea of a rabbit and where it's been in storytelling popped up in my brain like an encyclopedia article from clips from the Matrix, Alice in Wonderland, the ole pull-a-rabbit-from-the-hat-trick, Peter Rabbit, Donnie Darko... seriously, how did I miss this and better yet... why is such a unconscious symbol occurring? Does it have to do with being sneaky in gardens? I'm somewhat perplexed, maybe it's because the bunnies I've met never seemed this magical to me. I mean, to further the weirdness of animal perceptions into tropes, cats seem to be centering their selves around time traveling, teleporting, and quantum mechanics; a dog's death is cliche in literature and film but it's a guaranteed tear jerker. We as humans apply very strange, abstract concepts to animal beings whether in the ancient times or today. I think our relationship to animals and our capacity to imagine the infinite is perplexing. I mean, these archetypes in general are perplexing in how we apply them to ourselves.
I find there is a great deal of complexity in truly understanding archetypes. One mask may appear differently to another character simply based off the differing relationships each character has with the others: put more simply, one character may appear as a shadow to one while a herald to another. In going with the idea of "character language" I think there is some semantics with archetypes -- with literal language a sentence can carry more than one meaning at the same time and still both be accurate. A character can appear to wear one mask to one character while wearing a seemingly different mask to another.
Thinking about the potential interpretations that fictional characters have toward other fictional characters is maddening (yet worthwhile in trying to understand the people who make up our own real world).
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