Deus ex Machina, or the Stupid Solution

I just finished another Pride and Prejudice knock-off. After my last experience with Regina Jeffers' awful book (bashed in a previous blog entry), I was reluctant to try another one, but I checked out Mr. Darcy, Vampyre from the library anyway.

Let me say, first, that it was a FAR better book than Jeffers'. Her level of plagiarism and horrid grammar made me gag for two days straight. This book was far more original, and began with the wedding, leading through to Elizabeth's final discovery that her husband was a vampyre.

What I hated--and I mean hated--was the end. Instead of resolving the problems the book accumulated through some known means, Amanda Grange (the author) pulled a rabbit out of a hat, inventing in the last 20 pages a solution for all of it.

It isn't just this Deus ex Machina I hate. It's any solution slapped on the end of a plot line because the author(s) cannot think of a fix that is integral to the rest of the book. As I write, perhaps I am better at creating the problem and building the tension than I am at finding the solution. Perhaps the solution only comes as I write, and I don't plan for it. However, once the solution has been found, it is my job as a writer to REVISE with that solution in mind. Grange's book's ending tossed all of the suspense and conflict on its head, essentially wiping it out in simple ways with an invented wash cloth of sorts. It's as if she'd written her characters into such a hole that the only way out was some weird prophecy.

The Sherlock Holmes stories had this problem, offering "solutions" to the mysteries only through cryptic details at the last minute, details none of the readers would ever be able to pick up on, but at least some of the clues were there already. I like it best when a plot contains the solutions, yet I miss them, and the ending is a surprise. Then I can re-read and see all the clues I missed the second time around. That, to me, is satisfying.

Now, here is one place this worked for me, and I'll explain why: At the end of Disney's The Little Mermaid, when Triton sees that his daughter loves Prince Eric, he magically gives her the legs she wanted, and she gets to live happily ever after. One could certainly argue that this last-minute "fix" was a deus ex machina. However, Triton could have done the same magic earlier, except for his prejudice against humans and dry land. It takes his near loss of his daughter and personal witness of Prince Eric's bravery to change his mind. You see, the plot isn't really about Ariel's becoming human, but about her father's acceptance of her choice. And that makes his act all the more potent and meaningful, as well as something we could have seen coming (though I was surprised the first time around).

What about all of you? What endings have struck you wrong? When has an ending seemed forced? When has it fundamentally changed what you thought you were reading?

All Things Austen

[Note: For the next few posts--or however long it takes me to come down from my manic high--I'm going to be posting all about the stuff I LOVE... and if you prefer depressing, angst-ridden posts by me, you'll need to scroll down a few days (I have plenty of them to spare, I'm afraid). I'm too happy to be sad right now.]

I, like many women adore Jane Austen. Unlike some, I cannot say I'm a fan of the dresses usually displayed in illustrations and films. Instead, I love the manners, the characters, the walking around fields and other stuff that seems to happen. Vacuous? I beg to differ. I am many things, but not vacuous. Besides, I adore so much related to Austen's books, and I've recently found reasons to adore them even more.

I've long kept my heart Austen-centered, for I watched the original PBS version of Pride and Prejudice when I was in my teens, read the book, and read it again (and again, and again). I read it in graduate school, and realized at that point that the PBS version didn't do the book justice at all.

But then A and E's version came out--you know the one I'm talking about, with Colin Firth as Mr. Darcy. Dreamy, dreamy, dreamy. I taped it all, then bought the VHS set, and a few years ago my brother bought me the 3-CD Special Edition. I've watched it every few months or so ever since the movie came out originally. It is by far the best version ever made. I also adored Gwineth Paltrow as Emma, the best version of that book I've seen. The film adaptation of Mansfield Park actually improved on the book, so I've seen that one several times over, too.

Recently, though, other Austen wonders have come out--not adaptations of the original novels, but new takes on the themes which run through them. PBS presented a delightful if impossible spin on Pride and Prejudice called Lost in Austen, taking the life of a woman fascinated with Colin Firth's Mr. Darcy character and turning it into a romp through the book, changing events in hilarious ways. (Yes, hilarious. Not just cute or quirky. Laugh out loud funny.)

And recently, I've read Shannon Hale's novel Austenland, a more realistic (sort of) exploration of a fictional "resort" for women who love Jane Austen's time period and characters. The resort goers dress in period costume, participate in pastimes of the period (lots of walks and whist), and mingle with paid actors who pretend to be "types" from the books. Several of my friends read the book as well, and we all wonder whether such a place exists. (It doesn't, at least not that I know of. Yes, I looked.)

So, there it is. And since many of my readers are men, don't think you'll be left out in future posts, for I have many other things I love to discuss. Besides, you could learn a lot from Mr. Darcy.

A Lame Spin on Pride and Prejudice

Don't get your hopes up... I'm not quite human yet. My son went through a hard day yesterday, too, where he did little beyond lie on me and drink water (slowly). Scared me a bit, but I still haven't gotten my appetite back, so I figure he's just fighting what's been attacking me for the last week. 

I said I'd blog on Fairest, but I'm not going to, not yet, anyway. I finally watched the film version of Pride and Prejudice--the Hollywood film--and I was so utterly unimpressed with it I'm not sure what to say. Perhaps it points to what I think makes most pseudo-epic Hollywood films fail miserably: cinematography and soundtrack replace a good script.

You might assume I am a purist, and to a degree you might be right, for I love a good script, love a good story, and love dialogue more than most... but I don't need for everything to reflect a book entirely, or the recent miniseries of Lost in Austen would have been unwatchable. But Lost in Austen, for all the liberties it took with Austen's original, used the original in such a fabulous, engaging, and humorous way that it taught viewers about the characters, paid its homage to a wonderful novel, and reflected the truth of the original, linking it to today's world in a refreshing way. (Can you tell I liked it? I almost sent $80 to the local PBS station so I could get the DVD of the 3-hour series). 

But the film with Keira Knightley did little to reveal any of the characters from the book. Honestly, I blame the director. Some of the actors were completely miscast, or were directed to play people who simply did not exist in the book at all. Bingley was an idiot, simpering, stupid, pathetic in his lack of backbone. Mr. Collins bore absolutely no resemblance to the novel's character at all. He was bland, bland, bland, when he should have been pompous, oily, and smarmy. He should have made us squirm. And Mr. Darcy was neither handsome nor regal... and though Colin Firth was brilliant in the role (and most men would fall by comparison), he cannot be the only capable male actor with a decent face out there. 

Most of all, though, I sensed that the director wanted to make Pride and Prejudice better. But Joe Wright didn't get it (and I must say that most men don't). He neither understood Darcy nor Elizabeth, nor any of the rest, and in the end he created a world as stilted as the entire second Star Wars trilogy. Had I not seen other versions recently, I might wonder what I ever saw in that book at all. Really terrible. Almost as bad as the local theatre company's versions of Shakespeare's plays (I need to blog about that soon). 

I think I'll go back over my DVR and watch the Lost in Austen series again, if only to get the yucky taste out of my brain. Were I Jane Austen, I fear I would have rolled over in my grave from Joe Wright's version. One should understand a work thorough before trying to take liberties with it.