#narrative morality

[avelera]

The Narrative Morality of "Our Flag Means Death"

One thing I find interesting to chart in fictional works is what I call "narrative morality" (there's probably another, more technical term) which boils down to "what is the consistent thread in the actions of the characters that leads to success?"

For example, in a romance it might be love, i.e when people act out of romantic love, they gain plot armor against misfortune, when they act out of some other motive, they lose it.

As "Our Flag Means Death" is a rom-com, one could be forgiven for assuming that it would follow the above example: when people act out of romantic love, they succeed. But that's actually not the case. Plenty of people act out of romantic love in the story and it's not enough to save them from misfortune (especially in the final episode, when all of our canonical lovers are separated despite how much they love each other). The narrative morality of OFMD is actually more nuanced than that and, I think as a result, more more mature and interesting. It doesn't necessarily apply to all characters, but it very much applies to Stede and Blackbeard at the center of the story.

In Our Flag Means Death, actions that are taken to pursue what one truly wants in life, no matter how difficult, lead to success for Stede and Ed. Actions that adhere to societal restrictions and expectations that run counter to their own happiness lead to disaster.

In short, follow your heart. By following his heart and pursuing what he loves, namely becoming a pirate, Stede finds himself in a dizzying array of insane circumstances that always seem to turn out for the better. For example, he discovers his found family, he meets and woos the love of his life, and ultimately he finds self-actualization and purpose he'd never known before. It all risks falling apart, however, when societal pressure and his own guilt lead him to the mistaken belief that he needs to return to the life that was killing his spirit out of a misplaced sense of duty. In the process, he almost ruins Mary's happiness, his own, and at the end of S1 he does ruin (for now) the happiness of Ed and pretty much everyone on the Revenge except Izzy (who is delighted). Only by re-swearing himself to the pursuit of his own eccentric happiness does he begin to set everything right and in the process, he becomes a self-actualized (ie successful) person. He even sacrifices other traditional markers of societal success like wealth in the process.

Ed also follows his heart and gains improbable plot armor as a result. By joining Stede in his hijinks, he too finds love, outwits the Spanish, defeats (by proxy) stuffy bullying nobles, begins to come to terms with his childhood trauma, and realizes who he is as a person. Where he fails and loses it all is when he listens to the voice of societal pressure--what he "should" be instead of what he wants to be--in Izzy and reverts to being Blackbeard to satisfy that pressure. Before that, he was taking material steps to healing as a person and becoming a more spiritually healthy individual. Presumably, in S2 we will see a more in-depth look at his journey, though perhaps not with 100% the same narrative morality that defined Stede (as they are different people, though I think the underlying morality will remain a thread), in order to see Ed fall, rise, grow as a person and reach the same level of actualization that Stede did.

As a final note, I will say that while this is hardly the most unique moral to a story, it is refreshing to see in a story aimed at adults. Oftentimes we see "duty" or "honor" or "rising to meet society's expectations" along with "toughness", "sticking to unpleasant situations because it's the right thing to do" as the inherent morality in a lot of shows, particularly "save the world" style superhero stories or stories driven by machismo where suffering is the currency of nobility.

Not so with OFMD, which sheds such trappings and instead enjoins its viewers to search deep within themselves and find their happiness, even if it lies on the other side of the thing they're most afraid of doing, be it leave a loveless relationship, a soulless career, or an emotionally abusive community, because what is waiting beyond the horizon promises greater happiness than you'll ever know by staying.

As simplistic or even childish as that might sound, it's an important message and antidote I think for more mature viewers who may have found themselves later in life stuck in dead-end lives, jobs, or relationships, yearning for the courage to break free as Stede and Ed did, before the death of their soul becomes permanent. Sometimes, the healthiest, most mature, and most difficult thing we can do is abandon what society says we "should" do in order to find our own true happiness. What waits on the other side is a reward that is worth the fight.

[avelera]

The Narrative Morality of HBO's "Barry" Series Finale

OK, so post HBO Barry series finale, I'm trying to figure out what I call the "narrative morality" of the story. IE, what morality is rewarded, what gets punished, and whether or not there's a common thread at all, because a story where no consistent morality is rewarded or punished is also a statement.

So let's dive in with a few of my takeaways on what Barry is trying to "say", at least within season 4 and its finale. Cut for spoilers.

Possibility 1: "It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing."

This to me is not the most convincing argument, but it is the quickest to articulate. There is no narrative morality. The fact is that Bill Hader is making a statement about the inherent senselessness of life. Fuches didn't deserve to get away. Coiseneau didn't deserve to go to jail for Barry's crimes. People deserved a happy ending who didn't get one, despite doing everything right, and people who deserved to die didn't and indeed, have every indication of going on to live fulfilling lives.

On a wider level, it's an indictment of Hollywood and films (in my opinion) like American Sniper that glorify violence and turn villains into martyrs. By expecting a moral to this Hollywood story, you are played for a fool. It means nothing. It all means nothing. Objectively, many people are dead who didn't deserve it or take any actions to cause it. To seek meaning in the violence is a fool's game.

Possibility 2: "To Thine Own Self Be True"

The only way to gain redemption in "Barry" is to operate with integrity. By coming clean to her son about what she did and who she really is, Sally secures for herself a marginally happy ending as a theater teacher with a son who loves her and the adoration of her students.

By realizing that he has always been, deep down, a heartless piece of shit and a criminal, Fuches self-actualizes, becomes who he has always been deep down, redeems himself by rescuing Barry's son (who he put in danger in the first place) and walks off into the night, presumably satisfied with his choices.

By resolving in his final moments to come clean about Janet's murder, Barry didn't fully secure redemption but he did get all he prayed for: to be seated at the right hand of his father figure in death, to be seen as a hero by his son, and to be lionized after his death.

By failing to admit to himself that he was the cause of Cristobal's death, NoHo failed to achieve redemption. Instead, he receives the fool's gold of dying in his lover's arm, a statue of his lover literally made of fool's gold. He told Sally there was nothing he could do to help her, he failed to take responsibility in that moment, because he did have the power to act with integrity, just like he did in the events leading up to Cristobal's death, and he failed to do so. His reasons were understandable but ultimately, he wore a mask, and those who wear masks are punished by this narrative.

Coiseneau is the fakest of them all. On numerous occasions he's given chances to come clean, to act with integrity, to care about what actually matters in life like Janice and his son. He is over and over again tempted away from acting with integrity by instead pursuing fame and the appearance of success. He is no inherently a bad person, but he is over and over again show to be far too seduced by the temptations of Hollywood fame and his own legend to ever truly break free and act with integrity.

Janice's father also fumbles with integrity at the end, choosing the easy explanation of Coiseneau being his daughter's murderer, rather than pursuing the truth. As a result, his daughter's true murderer is lionized by the media and her lover is wrongfully convicted of her death.

In essence, when people act with falsehood and give in to convenient narratives about themselves, instead of pursuing integrity and truth, regardless of the morality of that inner truth (being a criminal is still Fuches being true to himself) the narrative punishes them. When people are true to themselves and act with integrity, even if its only to admit their own monstrousness, the narrative rewards them.

As a story told by Bill Hader, who is embedded in the shallowness of Hollywood with its shifting alliances, massive egos, frailties and foibles, "Barry" as a story about fake people constantly failing to improve themselves, act with integrity, or even acknowledge who they really are, but choosing to live instead in the fairytale palaces of their false images of themselves, fits thematically with much of what we see on screen. It doesn't preclude other themes and morals, but to me at least, there's a running theme of integrity vs. falsehood in terms of who is rewarded by the narrative and who is punished.

Possibility 3: Every Act of Violence Removes More Of Our Choices

Violence is condemned by the narrative of "Barry" but in a very interesting way. One act of violence never cements a person's unhappy ending, but it removes choices available to them. Each lost life is one more path that has been cut off from the world, and the characters who commit violence, who commit murder, see their own lives and available choices pruned away as well with each murder committed.

The narrative is actually rather optimistic towards Barry when he first signs up for the acting class. There is a sense that this is his highest point, his earnest decision to try to escape the violence. However, his past haunts him. It cuts away options he might have had in his own happiness. When he chooses to return to that world out of self-interest, the narrative once again condemns him. Each murder, each coverup with another murder, spirals. Each death cuts away another path Barry might have taken in his life. He can no longer visit friends without guilt. He can no longer have people in his life, or be an actor the way he wanted to, or enjoy the acclaim he hoped to achieve, or live openly with his family eventually, in a place of his choosing, because of his acts of violence.

Sally commits only one major act of violence, but that too has a sense of placing a ceiling upon all she might have achieved in life. She can no longer act freely without guilt. She can no longer aspire to heights that would draw attention to her that might uncover the murder. She can no longer be all she might have been, because she is responsible for a man's death.

Coiseneau is punished by the narrative for the violence he partakes in. He is punished when he chooses to act with violence and shoot "Barry", who turns out to be his own son. He is punished when he does not act to bring Janice's actual killer to justice. He is punished when he doesn't wait a few more moments for Barry to turn himself in for Janice's murder, instead taking Barry's death into his own hands and damning his own memory as a result. All his choices are taken away by this moment of violence.

Fuches might have finally blossomed into the criminal he has always been, deep down, but his options are still limited. He is a figure of shadows now, incapable of coming out into the light. He can't share Barry's life with him, or be in John's life, or walk openly outside the criminal element. He has found himself in the darkness, but each act of violence has reduced all his other options to nothing, he cannot have anything but the life of a petty criminal.

The organized crime characters all have their choices limited by the violence they've committed, over and over. They don't get out. They suffer brief, brutal lives, often dying as a result of their own machinations. Cristobal tries desperately to go legitimate, but can't escape his past. NoHo wants desperately to live in a world where he can be safe, have Cristobal, be happy, and be fulfilled, but the violence he's partaken in precludes this, it closes so many of these doors to him. With Cristobal's death, he loses even more.

Each act of violence diminishes us. It diminishes the world. It reduces the choices available to us and to the world, because those two are inextricable. Violence is not only never the answer, it steals from the life and options of those who commit it.

[avelera]

Spoilers for "Thor Love and Thunder" but regarding Gorr's choice...

... to bring his own daughter back to life instead of, say, healing Jane I can't imagine of version of him doing so that would be in character?

Jane is enough of a god that when she dies, she disperses into golden light. For Gorr's final wish to be to give Thor, a god, his lover's health back by curing her disease or even (ignoring Thor) to give a godly woman her health back as his final act (when the option to save his own child is possible), would be an utter betrayal of everything he has stood for.

By refusing to continue fighting Gorr but instead deciding to spend his possibly final moments with Jane, Thor reminded Gorr of what really matters in life. He moved the needle from vengeance over the death of his daughter to reminding Gorr that with all the power of the universe at his disposal, he could instead remove the need for his own vengeance. But in my opinion, it would be hugely unrealistic for Gorr's revelation in that moment to move the needle all the way from vengeance to helping his enemy, another feckless god, at the expense of his own child.

The rules of how Eternity works as far as the limitations of the wish are vague. In theory, Gorr could have wished that nothing bad has ever happened ever or that he and Jane would both be cured and his daughter brought back. But even phrasing it like that I think reveals an implied limitation: there is no "and" possible. You get one (1) wish. He can't cure himself and bring back his daughter, he can't cure Jane and bring back his daughter.

I think Gorr makes the only choice that a loving parent can realistically make. In the absence of an "and" being possible in the wish, he wishes for his child's life at the expense of his own and certainly at the expense of his recent enemy's life.

In my opinion, by making the choice to save his daughter, Gorr does a correct thing. Maybe not the "right" thing because it's a moral quandary of an impossible situation that can only come up because this is a magical sci-fi story. (How many people does he save? How many people can he save? It doesn't matter because a magical wish to bring people back to life doesn't actually exist in the real world.)

Gorr isn't a good guy. We have no indication he was what we call a "hero" even before his daughter died. Our few in-text hints indicate he was a religious fanatic who only had doubts once his daughter died of privation in the desert and then he met his idiot god. There's nothing that occurs in his journey or after it to indicate he would ever make a selfless choice with that wish. Granted, it's hard to know the details of his personality because everything he does with the god-slaying sword is of dubious motivation since it's heavily implied he's mostly just a vessel for its will the entire film. Thor being able to push the needle from "vengeance" to "save your daughter with the wish" encapsulates the entire arc of morality we've seen from Gorr, there's no indication his moral compass has anything beyond those two directions.

From an in-text philosophical angle too, assuming the wish could only be for one thing to change, one person to be healed or brought back to life, IMO saving a child who died far too young, who died a refugee in the desert, is a worthy use of the wish. And it's the only one I can realistically see Gorr making. Assuming he'd go all the way to forgiving and saving his godly enemies is just a bridge too far. It would, IMO, show the hand of the author more than anything else. It would appease the audience who loves Jane but at the expense of the internal consistency of the character. It would be so obviously about saving Jane instead of doing what the character we've seen to that point would do. For Jane's salvation to be the outcome, presumably, we'd need Thor to have made the wish instead, which would only raise a hundred questions of why he didn't bring back everyone he's lost, or why only Jane. The Pandora's Box of questions of "why Thor made that wish" would be endless, whereas with Gorr's limited screen time there is no question, there's only one choice he could make.

From a Doylist angle too, to briefly switch gears, Natalie Portman was done with the MCU. She's been done for years but came back to make one film and do justice to her character who has been poorly written in every other iteration. She got an epic, memorable exit. I'm entirely at peace with it, personally, as a storyteller myself. And as a storyteller, there's just no way to expand the possibilities of the Eternity wish without inviting a thousand more in-universe questions of how best to use it. Heck, people are still scrapping about the Avengers undoing Thanos's snap and if they did the right thing by bringing everyone back but not, say, winding back the clock so it never happened or bringing back their non-snapped dead loved ones as well.

The minute you introduce universe-altering powers that can overcome death, you're playing with fire as a creator, a fire that risks undermining all the sacrifices and deaths in your story up to that point. Giving Gorr the wish, making it clear Gorr had only one possible wish he could make once he turns from vengeance but doesn't turn all the way towards global altruism or Christ-like forgiveness of his recent enemies, you allow the magic of the plot device to exist without undermining everything else.

I completely understand people who are sad about Jane. She's built up as a wonderful person in this film. She could do so much good as The Mighty Thor. That's important because we should feel the tragedy of her death. That's just good storytelling. But I personally would have let out a gasp of outrage in the theater if Gorr had picked her over his own daughter, for all the reasons listed above. Natalie Portman was never coming back for another film. There's a slim chance that any director besides Taika would have remembered to include her character in future iterations, much less done her any justice if we're going by the treatment of other MCU love interests. She was never going to headline her own franchise nor would the actress have wanted to. From a Watsonian and Doylist perspective, this was an excellent exit for her. It was dignified, emotional, memorable, and magical. To have spent the wish on her instead of an innocent child would have cheapened the entire narrative. At least, that's my take.

[avelera]

Writers who don't understand the narrative morality of their story risk making stupid mistakes like the Killing Eve writers made

One reason I think it's important for creators to be aware of narrative morality is that it can help you avoid a dumb mistake like the end of Killing Eve.

(As a reminder, I use the term "narrative morality" to discuss "What actions consistently lead to success or failure by the characters?" For example, in an action story, the morality might be "be brave" - people who do brave things dodge bullets that should have killed them, people who act in a cowardly way get injured or killed in spite of or because of their cowardice.)

Now, I stopped watching "Killing Eve" after S1 but it's been hard to miss the discourse around, basically, the main characters ending up together and then one of them dying tragically at the very last minute.

Death is a pretty big consequence for a character, arguably the biggest consequence, and since fiction is not reality when characters die it is a choice by the author and that choice has meaning. Oftentimes amateur writers will try to claim something happened because it's "realistic", which fundamentally misses the point of the artificial world created in fiction. Things happen to tell a story. That story has intent behind it. Because all the circumstances are artificial, they're entirely up to the author's choices and it is fair game to examine those choices for meaning.

When characters have escaped death numerous times and then suddenly die after achieving happiness in a same-sex relationship, audiences are going to wonder "What changed that the character died this time and not all those other times?" If the only thing that changed narratively is that they're now in a happy same-sex relationship, then it doesn't matter that in the "real world" being in a happy same-sex relationship isn't why someone dies if they fall off a cliff because fiction is not reality. Cause and effect are totally different and based on story beats.

To not be charting your own narrative morality can cause you to blunder into mistakes like this. I'm sure the writers thought, "X character dies because she's a villain and her past caught up to her, she's being punished for being a villain despite the fact she's now in a happy same-sex relationship," (Again, I did not see the episode but saw the discourse) but this character has been a villain throughout and hasn't died because of it. If the only change was the relationship, then in the world of fiction, the relationship is the cause of death. Not then making the connection to the fact that same-sex relationships have been seen as aberrant historically and therefore targeted with violence and death is to be utterly tone-deaf at best and malicious at worst.

TL;DR Stories are not reality. Cause and effect in stories are based on authorial choices. If you as an author do not chart which choices lead to what outcomes, then you risk making an unintentional moral argument even in a story not designed to have a moral argument, or a making a different moral argument than the one you intended.