Refusing the call to adventure I think is integral for the audience to see because it gives us time to see the protagonist processing in his or her mind what lies ahead. I think we are able to better relate with the conflict if we understand what are the character's thoughts on the upcoming situation. Giving us that insight helps us to connect with the hero, engage with him and his story, and also become invested in the making the right decision: how often do we yell our movies that a character should not go into that room, talk to that person, or how we wish they'd go postal for some much needed catharsis? The refusal of the call gives stability to the narrative. We might not clearly understand the character if they jump too soon into their new world, so I think the refusal helps us to understand who exactly is our main character.
Vogler uses the example of Christ in the garden before arriving at the cross and I think yes, it does show a moment of questioning whether going to the cross is necessary, I also think it's one of the few clear moments where we grasp the thoughts of Christ and what he really desires for himself, the world, and so on. By the time he has accepted the call, we see where the thoughts that motivated him in the garden are transformed, shaken, even questioned though yet a commitment to the call. These two landscapes for the character have such an obvious contrast that it really shows the heart of the character in what they want for the world and how that ends up being crystallized, and I think that's ideal in any story that we can see what the character is like before accepting the call and then giving a whole new experience which informs us to a greater degree as to what kind of character is being expressed before our eyes. If the new world is nothing really new -- than I would daresay that the journey is weak and that there should be a way to contrast the two landscapes more.
Mentors are some of my favorite tropes of all. Currently I'm taking a Native American languages class at the same time as this class, and the oddest of materials from the language seminar line up with the hero's journey. In many Native American societies, the shamans and storytellers were considered the ones with power, the tribe leader if you will in the best way we can translate this role to our first world developed brains. The storytellers were there to mentor the people, give lessons on why the world operates the way that it does, as well as that language of the tellers was served as a way to heal sickness. Certain shaman songs were kept so secretive that only the shamans were allowed to use them and were not for open, public use. I think part of the reason why I like the role of mentor so much is that it often still places a high respect for language -- most of the mentors are distinct in how they view the world and teach it toward their pupils. I find that whether it's Gandalf, Hannibal, the Fairy Godmother -- whatever mentor comes to help raise the hero into a stronger character -- that the mentor will have a distinct sense of language that operates on a different level from other fellow characters, and this to me is fascinating. I think we are drawn to language more than we realize and that it plays a larger role whether conscious or subconscious on how events play out in our lives. The very mentor's language I feel is what often grabs the hero. If the mentor had the same sense of dialogue as the best friend / ally / sidekick, I don't think he would be near as tangible or noticeable as mentor to the hero or audience.
In order to cross the threshold, the hero needs to be prepared. I think through the wisdom of the mentor who helps the hero to gain a sense of how to overcome her obstacles and give her a sense of what the new world will be like is often key. For instance, in the Count of Monte Cristo without the Abbé Faria, Edmund would never be transformed from his potential into the man he needs to be to fully escape, challenge his enemies, and live a new life into the sunset. Crossing the threshold I feel is a scary part of life whether in going into puberty, being married, flying a plane for the first time, or moving to a new bizarre location.
There should be anticipation no matter how prepared or knowledgable a character happens to be. The experience should bring upon growth, enlightenment, and change.
To sum up, this entire portion of the book reminded me greatly of Alice in Wonderland. Her curiosity fuels the book, but she is constantly going from one odd, disturbed character to the next, and she is given plenty of choices as to which doors to open, which things to eat to make her grow or shrink, and which characters to take their advice whether the White Rabbit, the Mad Hatter, the Caterpillar, or the Cheshire Cat. I read from an academic journal once that Alice in Wonderland was partly inspired by the new understandings of math at the time and that a great deal of the book was dealing with abstract numbers and the idea of matrices (which I can buy that, especially since the Matrix steals the White Rabbit character). Near the beginning of the book, Alice opens several doors in succession, many of which lead to nothing which the author of said paper believed it had to do with a matrix that was off by a number. Regardless of whether or not Lewis Carroll actually was inspired by math, I think what's important is that all schools of thought work together and that the hero's journey isn't simply about craft or psychology (or Tarot cards as Vogler noted) but extends itself into math and that through studying the hero's journey we are actually gaining what are the mathematical concepts behind our fiction, and in the same our own world since fiction is just a mirror of our reality that we use to understand our existence.
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