Stimulating The Gene
If someone old me they were going to make a movie where Boba Fett fights The Predator I would want to see that.
If the same person told me they’d done one where Indiana Jones fights Ernst Stavro Blofeld (a villain in the Bond films, including my favorite, Diamonds Are Forever) I would be like “Whatever. Is the movie good?”
This has little to do with how much I like the source media: I don’t really even like the Predator movies that much*—and I love James Bond movies.
Somehow, Predator and Boba Fett activate the fan gene and Indiana Jones and Blofeld do not.
Two Things
I think this has to do with two things.
First thing is simpler:
Boba Fett and Predator are toyetic. That is: they look like they’d make good toys. They also—and this is more elusive—act more like toys. What is interesting about them in the movies is very much their physical actions, what they are capable of. Indiana Jones is capable of action of course but also he's an interesting guy incarnated by the arguably greatest heroic actor of all time with all the personality and complexity of facial expression that implies—it is interesting to hear him talk. Boba Fett talking is just a prelude to Boba Fett doing something cooler than talking with a wrist rocket or some shit. His whole body, character design, look, is built to do things on the screen—he wears the backpack that he will fly with. His entire visual image is defined by actions he will take, his body is a threat—the same goes for the Predator, Spider-Man, Iron Man, Gundam mecha, a space marine, a wizard, a dwarf barbarian with an axe.
While these characters suggest to you what they might do, Indiana Jones is someone where you would wait to see what he will do. His story is as much about (cliché incoming) whats inside as what’s outside—that’s why God doesn’t melt his face. I wouldn’t dream of telling Indiana Jones what to do—that’s the job of people who invented Indiana Jones and want to tell me what he’s like.
This leads into the second thing:
There is always some sense, with toyetic characters, that what has been done with them is wrong. Maybe not totally wrong, maybe just not enough or surely not everything they could do.
I saw Raiders of the Lost Ark and I was happy. To me, Indiana Jones was basically a real guy and that thing I saw up on the screen was his greatest adventure and he told me about it. I did not need him to have another adventure or fight another guy (though if he wanted to, I was happy to hear about it)--that seemed enough for me.
When I saw Empire Strikes Back I was also happy. And I could started thinking of other, cooler things they could have Boba Fett do in the next movie. And this wasn’t just because he isn’t in it much—I liked the first Iron Man and had the same reaction.
Indiana Jones adventure seems complete because it is part of a good story where what is interesting about IJ is woven into and somewhat solved by the shape of that story—his possibilities are, if not exhausted, then explored thoroughly. While Tony Stark is similarly solved in the Iron Man movie, Iron Man’s not: there’s soooo many cool things they could do and didn’t.
Fascination
I would say that I love Raiders of the Lost Ark (and Julio Cortazar novels, and Wong-Kar Wai movies, and cheeseburgers), but I would say that not only do I am fascinated by games (and comic books, and giant robot cartoons).
The things in the first category are great and satisfying. The things in the second category are great and unsatisfying. You not only always want more but somehow your brain just starts going “well what about..and what about…and what about…”. I am not going to blog about cheeseburgers—I am perfectly happy with cheeseburgers as they are and lack entirely the will to tinker with them.
There is something about the kind of media for children that also translates well for adults that is forever mysterious. Perhaps it is the point that—unlike a classically great work of art—it takes no arrogance to see the flaws, while still being wholeheartedly devoted to the result. These things work on your mind and should not.
This week I went through every single comic Gil Kane ever drew looking for the really good ones. I read some really good ones. I came away happy and wishing he’d drawn the Flash more, and wishing that the scripts they gave him were better. It was great and unsatisfying—and fascinating. I can’t stop thinking about Gil Kane.
I feel the same way every time I open up an RPG. That was cool—why was it cool? How come it worked or didn’t? How can we do it better next time?
I don’t know whether everyone in the RPG scene feels exactly this—but I think there’s a reason that we blog about some things and we just sit back and enjoy others.
*Except Prey, Prey rules).
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