Light The Ugliness On Fire To Warm Ourselves

(This column is posted at www.StevenSavage.com, Steve’s Tumblr, and Pillowfort.  Find out more at my newsletter, and all my social media at my linktr.ee)

The latest news about our oncoming future of AI generated soulless media has got me and my creative friends talking. We’re swearing, too, but the conversation is quite intelligent between the occasional profanities

My good friend Serdar notes in an excellent post that you have to drive out ugliness with beauty. If you keep showing off the ugliness, the awfulness of things, it creates pathologies, a tunnel of crap, even if its in mockery. Trauma tourism of our culture is still traumatic after all, and we hunger for actual good stuff – so make something good damn it to squeeze out the ugly.

I agree with him for the most part, but sometimes you can use the ugly.

Now in my own work, even that which responds to trends (like some worldbuilding books), the goal is to get people to write good things. I want something that adds to the wonderful of the world.

But you’ve also noticed some of my sarcasm or parody here, or in my fiction. It occurs in some of the more experimental art and writing I do (currently) under pen names. There is a part of my work that uses the terrible and sad things of the world as fuel, and I think that is valid – when done right.

There is value in mockery, and parody, and response. From Mark Twain to Dave Barry, Terry Pratchet to Chuang-Tzu, people have made works both timeless and calling out people and organizations and ideas that need to be skewered. Sometimes you create beauty by giving the ugliness a good drubbing- hell, no small amount of Punk music fits this category.

The problem is this is really hard to do. If you’re going to make beauty from ugliness, then you best make sure you’re up to the task and you want to do it. Not everyone is, and that’s fine – for instance Serdar and I have different backgrounds and inclinations. Or in short, I’m the sarcastic and parodic one, meaning our friendship is sort of a Road movie that happens very slow.

As the sarcastic one, here’s what I think makes a response-to-ugliness work as actual, positive, creative work.

First, it has to timeless in its own ways. There’s little value in speaking to the event of the moment without context or depth. The more the thing you’ve decided to “take on” is connected to the big picture, the better. I recall an essay in the Chuang-Tzu on warriors (albeit one clearly written by one of his followers) that had me outright laughing at the end, even though the tale was perhaps two thousand years old.

Secondly, a work of mockery or parody has to be relevant, and this is the paradox that affects many a writer. You have to know the subject matter enough to make what you create more than just saying “see how dumb that is!” I mean I can watch many videos mocking an unwisely-constructed electric truck that seems designed to kill people. But in-depth understanding is valuable because then I understand.

Third, such work has to be human. Ridiculing something or someone is easy, any bully can do it. I want to understand people, their reactions, their experiences. Ever read a good essay or book on the economic impacts of some horrible government choice on real people and felt it? That’s what you want. That’s what art does – it gets the mind and heart going.

Finally, it has to be actually good. You can’t rely on someone else being terrible to carry your work. I learned this lesson from podcasts and youtube videos that did critiques. The truly good ones have good hosts, providing smart analysis, and were people I’d listen to or watch if they spoke about good things.

If you create beauty out of ugliness, you need depth to really do something that will squeeze out the ugliness. For all he took on, the late Sir Terry Pratchett’s books are things of beauty, even when addressing issues from racism to economics. Any ugliness is but fuel for beauty – in the right hands.

If you can’t do that or don’t want to, then fine! We all do our parts to make the world a more beautiful place – and that’s needed today more than ever.

Steven Savage

Stupid or Clever? A Ramble on Parody and Perspective with Popstar

(This column is posted at www.StevenSavage.com, Steve’s Tumblr, and Pillowfort.  Find out more at my newsletter, and all my social media at my linktr.ee)

It’s such a fine line between stupid, and clever.

  • David St. Hubbins, Spinal Tap

Spinal Tap is one of the greatest movies ever made.  It defined the mockumentary genre, absolutely capturing the sense of a cultural space – ridiculous metal bands in the 80s.  It was well-acted, sensitive, and also the music may have been silly but pretty good.  In fact, it was so well done that when the “band” toured, a friend who was a fan ran into people at a concert who didn’t get the joke.

Want to argue with me?  Shut up.  Look. I just like Spinal Tap.

Being such a fan of the film, I checked out a similar movie Popstar: Never Stop Never Stopping, as a friend said it was in much the same vein.  Popstar was also a mockumentary, but was released in 2016, targeting more modern pop music (with bits of boybands, the Beastie Boys, and rap thrown in).  The movie focuses on one Conner Friel (Andy Samberg) who rose to fame as part of a trio called “The Style Boys,” but being the most charismatic of the group, he ended up solo, leaving one friend traumatized and the other as his DJ.  Connor’s meteoric rise becomes a crashing-to-earth potential extinction event through various bad choices, exacerbated by more bad choices.

The film was a bomb, but I found it quite entertaining, disturbingly spot-on, and the musical performances are pretty good.  However, there were parts of it that seemed, well, stupid – over the top, vulgar, or dumb.  As I watched it my reaction was yes, it was funny, but Spinal Tap it was not.

However, as I watched, I realized that this was a film of a different time.  Spinal Tap was funny to sixteen-year old me as I knew that era of music, the stories of drummer disasters, monsters of metal who just kept going, and strange careers.  Watching Popstar i started thinking that maybe I didn’t “get it.”

Stupid or clever?  A fine line indeed as Mr. St. Hubbins would note.  So I tried to view it as best I could through a modern lens – and I’m the kind of person who hears of Maroon Five and wonders what happened to the first four.

Once I did that, my perspective changed – and with it I got a better understanding of media.

The excesses shown in Popstar were excesses that were distinctly modern – stupidity that was in most cases part of our lives.  Megastars who gain a great deal of fame very fast and do very stupid and immature things amplified by the news.  Oversharing on social media of every detail.  Dumb tie-ins using modern technology to do things no one wants but everyone tells you is cool.

A lot of the things I found stupid in the film were there in real life.  This was a fascinating realization, as well as more than a bit depressing.  Maybe the first four Maroons were in hiding from the dumb world we’d made.

In the end I came to the conclusion that of Popstar’s stupid elements, well over half were completely well-deserved.  Tell me you can’t believe a business called Party Wolves with stellar yelp reviews for providing cute wolves for events.  There’s a scene taking on Daft Punk/Deadmaus techno-costumes and bands that is hilarious as it is believable.  We really do amazingly self-destructive things on social media, especially when famous.

Clever or Stupid?  I had to come down on the side of clever.  It’s just that it was made in modern times where we have invented some incredible kinds of idiocy.

I did note where there was actual stupidity it was due to the film going from mockumentary to parodyMockumentaries should adhere to being as real as possible while also exploring the ridiculousness of their subject.  Parody has more of a free hand and allows – indeed may require – some excess to point out the ridiculousness of its subject.  I consider a mockumentary a sub-form of parody, a more disciplined and sensitive one, and to break out of the form is jarring – as this film does occasionally.

I wish the film had been handled with some more deftness, dare I say “more Spinal Tap like,” but perhaps that was too much of a challenge. The musical and managerial traumas in Spinal Tap were of a different time, one without social media, and embarrassing holographic reconstructions.  Perhaps our current times have so much stupidity that it’s harder to handle it cleverly – one needs their cleverness up to eleven as it were.

If there’s a point to all of my intentional rambling  it’s that mockumentaries require some careful handling, but also that audience understanding matters.  I had to take effort to put myself in the right mindset of Popstar, much as a young person might not “get” Spinal Tap with some thought.  Even if Popstar had been handled as well as Spinal Tap (and it is still pretty good) I would have had to make some effort.

Some things just are of their times.  Including me.  Besides, I’d probably throw my back out trying to do The Donkey Roll.

Steven Savage

Dogs In Space Season 2: A Risk That Paid Off

(This column is posted at www.StevenSavage.com, Steve’s Tumblr, and Pillowfort.  Find out more at my newsletter, and all my social media at my linktr.ee)

Previously, I reviewed Dogs In Space (the Netflix show, again, not the movie on punk).  I was surprised at how good this Sci-Fi parody was, enjoying the family-friendly adventures of uplifted dogs trying to “fetch” a new home for humanity.  Though it had erratic moments, it was well-done, built a continuity, and had some gut-punch moments exploring its premise.  When I saw that Season Two had dropped, I watched it immediately, finishing it in two evenings.

The choices made surprised me -pleasantly so – and are not only good but show the importance of choices writers made.  Sometimes there’s funny, but then there’s funny with meaning.

Season One was a mix of shenanigans parodying Sci-Fi tropes, and continuing plot, ending in the cast of genetically-engineered dogs going through some personal changes.  How would the show deal with so many repercussions in Season Two?  For the writers, the answer was lean the into repercussions full force.

Season Two was almost all about the results of characters’ actions in Season One (and Season Two) having effects, often serious ones.  There was no happy reversal of fortune to establish a norm, no reset button to deliver more of the same.  In fact, parts of Season Two and its entire climax made no sense without having seen Season One.

It was still funny, at times very funny, but it was humor in the context of a developed setting where actions have consequences.  Much of the humor, indeed the theme of the season, was repercussions.

Season Two also explored backstory of the characters and how their personality quirks mean real trouble.  Some of this built the world, some seemed to tie up “spent” plots, and others explored unsavory repercussions of character traits that would otherwise be one-note jokes.  It was as if the authors were saying “that thing you laughed at in Season One is funny in a darker way if you think about it . . .”

Pleasingly, this wasn’t just characters being in a setting pinball machine.  Characters are explored, make choices, and deal with results.  Side characters weren’t forgotten and get to reappear for critical moments – and they just came in and dig their thing with no big “hey, it’s them” fanfare.  The elements of the show’s world mattered.

(I was thrilled one of my favorite side-side characters, the friendly but butt-kicking Saint Bernard Duchess got a moment.  If you want to see a humanoid dog go sword-swinging anime heroine, this is your show.)

I found this continuity-focus a very bold writing choice, and it tells us something about parody.  A good parody (which Dogs in Space is) can keep leaning on its jokes and get a lot of mileage out of that.  But meaningfully embracing the continuity you’ve built and being funny is the real challenge, and Dogs in Space pulled it off, making the show meaningful (while still keeping some dog jokes, of course).

There was still some uneven plotting as Season One had, but this time it seemed to be due to the challenge of having a continuing plot.  A few early episodes just aren’t that interesting, and the final story arc ties heavily into Season One, but it didn’t get foreshadowed well.  I’m sure there were a lot of plates to spin, while keeping the show both funny, serious, and family-friendly.

The emotional bite was also different.  Season One’s gut punches really came more and more near the end of the season, but Season Two spreads them out.  Though the end was quite dramatic, I was never quite sure when an emotional swing would come at me – which made the experience more enjoyable!  All the winding character arcs, backstory, and more were surprising, making the serious elements matter even more.

Dogs in Space Season Two showed courageous writers embracing continuity heavily, understanding it was a strength of what they’d created.  It’s a reminder that even when you’re doing funny, doing funny in a good setting with repercussions gives the audience a deeper experience.  Humor that matters is humor that hits harder and makes the darker jokes more thought-provoking.

Plus, kudos to Season Two’s cliffhanger ending.  It not only expands the universe, but promises even more complicators for our heroic canines . . .

Steven Savage