#joseph campbell

“Where you stumble, there lies your treasure. The very cave you are afraid to enter turns out to be the source of what you are looking for. The damned thing in the cave that was so dreaded has become the center.”

– Joseph Campbell

The Lie That Every Story Has In Common - Kurt Vonnegut On The Shapes Of Stories

As we’ve followed the Hero through the first and second act of the story, the Hero left his ordinary world, met his mentor, found his allies, confronted his enemies, faced his tests, and finally received his reward.

The second act had the following stages:

• Test, Allies, Enemies
• Approach the Inmost Cave
• Ordeal
• Reward

The third act of the Hero’s Journey consists of the following stages:

• The Road Back
• Resurrection
• Return with the Elixir

After a victory, in which the Hero receives his reward, he/she must take the Road Back from the special world of adventure to the ordinary world. Unbeknown to the Hero, he is being chased by the Shadow towards a final confrontation. The Hero is in direct or indirect danger. The Empire tracks the Millennium Falcon to Yavin. Ripley arrives aboard the Sulaco to find the Alien Queen aboard as well. Neo arrives at the subway station, where Agent Smith confronts him.

At this moment, the Hero suffers death to then have Resurrection. Of course, this death is not literal, but it is a symbolic death, where the old persona of the hero ceases to be. The Hero resurrects as a new person. Luke lets go and uses the Force to destroy the Death Star. Ripley falls with the Alien Queen into the airlock (death) and slowly rises to escape from the vacuum of space (resurrection). In Neo’s case, he is actually killed by Agent Smith, and literally resurrects with the power to become the One. This is the moment that the Hero defeats the Shadow.

At last, the Hero Returns with the Elixir to the ordinary world. The elixir can be a treasure or newfound wisdom to guide the Hero into his/her future. If the Hero fails to bring the treasure or gain wisdom, then the Hero is doomed to repeat the journey. After destroying the Death Star Luke returns to the ordinary world as the hero he always dreamed to become. Ripley finds her peace by saving Newt, and she is able to sleep without nightmares. Neo, with his newfound wisdom and powers, warns the Robot Overlords about how the status quo will change. Don’t bother with the sequels.

Keep in mind these articles are a simplification of the Writer’s Journey. Remember that this is just a structure and not a formula that can write the story for you. The journey can be different in each story. Maybe the Hero will not ignore the call. Perhaps the Mentor is a Shapeshifter and betrays the Hero.  The possibilities are endless.

In the end, even if the path is familiar, a writer can change the structure in order to make each journey an exciting adventure with mythic proportions for our new Heroes.

References:

Vogler, C. (2007). The writer’s journey: mythic structure for writers. Studio City, CA: Michael Wiese Productions.

In my last article, I listed the character archetypes that Joseph Campbell presented in his storytelling theory, the Hero’s Journey. We have our courageous Hero, the foretelling Herald, the wise Mentor, his trusted Allies, the playful Trickster, the challenging Threshold Guardians, the enigmatic Shapeshifter and the evil Shadow.

Now, what is the journey of the hero? Where does he go? What happens on his way? What challenges does the hero face in his journey?

Campbell identified certain patters that appeared in myths and stories shared by different cultures. Out of these patterns or stages, Christopher Vogler created a screenwriting structure called The Writer’s Journey. Like Syd Field’s Screenplay, the Writer’s Journey is a three-act structure. Act one is about 30 pages, act two is 60 pages, and act three should be 30 pages long.

The stages of the Hero’s Journey are the following:

Act One

• Ordinary World
• Call to Adventure
• Refusal of the Call
• Meeting the Mentor
• Crossing the First Threshold

Act Two 

• Test, Allies, Enemies
• Approach the Inmost Cave
• Ordeal
• Reward

Act Three

• The Road Back
• Resurrection
• Return with the Elixir

For now, we’re going to focus on Act One. In this act we usually have the following stages to begin the story.

In our story, the Hero begins in the Ordinary World. This is the place, environment or emotional state before the hero starts his journey. This could be the Lars Moisture Farm in Tattooine, Neo’s life as an aimless hacker and a bored company employee, or Ripley drifting in space inside Nostromo’s escape shuttle.

The Hero receives his Call to Adventure, often brought by the Herald. The call can be a cryptic message that says, “Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi. You’re my only hope.” Sometimes the call can be a direct request, like the one Burke tells Ripley that the company lost contact with the settlers at LV-426. In the end, the call can be a simple question, “What is the Matrix?”

“But it’s too far away!” Said Luke to Obi-Wan. Neo refuses to escape through the window. Ripley kicks Burke out of her apartment. The Hero refuses the call out of fear, doubt, or even responsibilities that ties him/her down. Of course, an event happens that makes the hero overcome his doubts or objections.

Often times the event in question happens when the Hero meets the wise Mentor. The Mentor guides the Hero to prepare him for his adventure. Sometimes the mentor will give the hero a magical item or talisman. At one point, the Mentor will stay behind to allow the hero to face the unknown.

At this moment, the Hero will cross the first threshold. This is the point of no return that the hero must pass. Luke boards the Millennium Falcon to blast across the Imperial Blockade out of Tattooine. Neo takes the red pill, and Ripley steps inside the Weyland-Yutani installation.

It is by this moment that the first act finishes usually at page 30 of the script. Our hero has left his place of security and will head towards his adventure to find his destiny.

Stay tuned for Structure Act Two!

References:

Vogler, C. (2007). The writer’s journey: mythic structure for writers. Studio City, CA: Michael Wiese Productions.

Many of you may be familiar with Joseph Campbell’s theory of the Hero’s Journey from his book The Hero with a Thousand Faces. The Hero’s Journey, also known as the Monomyth, basically suggests that various myths from different cultures share a similar structure and stages, including similar character archetypes. Christopher Vogler based Campbell’s theory to write his book, The Writer’s Journey: Mythic Structure for Writers.

The Writer’s Journey is a storytelling structure based on the Hero’s Journey, which can be used not only for screenwriting, but also for prose writing. Before going in detail on the structure, we’re going to talk about the character archetypes.

For the following examples I referred to Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope, The Matrix, andAliens.

We start with the HERO. The Hero, who happens to be the protagonist, has a humble beginning and receives the call for adventure. There are many varieties of heroes, including willing and unwilling heroes, anti-heroes, and loner heroes among others. We have to identify with the hero in order to follow the hero through his journey. Luke Skywalker, Neo, and Ellen Ripley are examples of the Hero.

The Hero should have a MENTOR.  The Mentor is, most of the times, the old wise man that counsels the hero with sage advice so our hero can overcome his challenges. Since the hero must grow, oftentimes the mentor will fall. Obi-Wan Kenobi, Morpheus, and Corporal Hicks are examples of Mentors.

Now who, or what, sends the hero to his journey? That would be the HERALD.  The Herald could be a character, an object, or an event that urges the hero to take an action to commence the journey. Luke finding Princess Leia message, Neo following the White Rabbit. Finally, Burke and Lt. Gorman asking Ripley to go back to LV-426 are examples of the Herald.

The hero is on his way, but he must face challenges that will allow him to grow as a person. The THRESHOLD GUARDIANS will attempt to stop the hero along the way. Most of the times the Threshold Guardian happens to be the henchmen of the villain, but they can also be an antagonist who tries to stop the hero. Imperial Stormtroopers, Sentinels, and the Aliens are examples of the Threshold Guardians.

Of course, the hero won’t be alone to face these challenges. The hero has ALLIES to share that adventure. The Ally can serve many functions; some of those functions are also separate archetypes. The ally can be a companion, a sidekick, comic relief, etc. R2-D2 and C-3PO, Trinity, and the Marines are examples of Allies.

One particular ally is the TRICKSTER. The Trickster happens to be a chaotic character that can be very unpredictable, and also very funny. The Trickster can be the comic relief character but often times the hero can be a Trickster too. Han Solo, Mouse, and Private Hudson are examples of Tricksters.

Now, according to Vogler, the SHAPESHIFTER is the hardest character to grasp since his/her nature changes constantly from our hero’s point of view. This figure, oftentimes from the opposite sex, may present one way and then changes through the story to become the opposite of what it was in the beginning. Femme Fatales are example of this, but many times it could be a traitor. Princess Leia (from a damsel in distress to a capable fighter), Cypher, and Burke are examples of the Shapeshifter.

The Hero has survived his Journey. He has faced many obstacles and challenges. Now he must face the SHADOW. The Shadow happens to be the dark side; the negative force that the hero must overcome. Villains and enemies will try to kill the heroes. An antagonist may not be a villain; he/she may oppose the hero but may not be necessarily evil. Darth Vader, Agent Smith and the Alien Queen are examples of the Shadow archetype.

These are the archetypes that appear in myth, according to Campbell. Some characters can share more than one archetype, for example, Gandalf is both a herald and a mentor to Frodo in The Lord of the Rings.

Great characters have been created based in these mythological archetypes, and with the combination of these archetypes, a writer can create timeless characters that will appear fresh to the audience, even if these archetypes has been present in many different cultures and myths.

References:

Vogler, C. (2007). The writer’s journey: mythic structure for writers (3rd ed.). Studio City, CA: Michael Wiese Productions.

How to get rid of ego as dictator and turn it into messenger and servant and scout, to be in your service, is the trick.

Joseph Campbell

“Who’s your favorite character?” I hear that question come up a lot over Avatar: The Last Airbender, a show particularly near and dear to me. Iroh and Toph get tossed around a lot. Zuko is very popular. Sokka has his fans. But something I’ve noticed? Aang very rarely gets the pick. When he comes up, it’s usually in that “Oh, and also…” kind of way. Which is strange, I think, considering he’s the main character, the titular airbender, of the entire show.

I never really thought much about it until a couple weeks ago when I finished my annual re-watch of the series and found myself, for the first time, specifically focused on Aang’s arc. Somehow, I never really paid that much attention to him before. I mean sure, he’s front and center in most episodes, fighting or practicing or learning big spiritual secrets, and yet, he always feels a little overshadowed. Katara takes care of the group. Sokka makes the plans. Zuko has the big, heroic Joseph Campbell journey. Aang…goofs around. He listens and follows and plays with Momo. And yes, at the end his story gets bigger and louder, but even then I feel like a lot of it dodges the spotlight. And here’s why:

Avatar casts the least traditionally-masculine hero you could possibly write as the star of a fantasy war story. Because of that, we don’t see Aang naturally for everything he is, so we look elsewhere.

To show what I mean, I want to talk about some of the show’s other characters, and I want to start with Zuko. Zuko is the hero we’re looking for. He’s tall and hot and complicated. He perseveres in the face of constant setbacks. He uses two swords and shoots fire out of his hands. He trains with a wise old man on ship decks and mountaintops. Occasionally he yells at the sky. He’s got the whole 180-degree moral turn beat for beat, right down to the scars and the sins-of-the-father confrontation scene. And if you were going into battle, some epic affair with battalions of armor-clad infantry, Zuko is the man you’d want leading the charge, Aragorn style. We love Zuko. Because Zuko does what he’s supposed to do.

Now let’s look at Katara. Katara doesn’t do what she’s supposed to do. She doesn’t care about your traditionally gender dynamics because she’s too busy fighting pirates and firebenders, planning military operations with the highest ranking generals in the Earth Kingdom, and dismantling the entire patriarchal structure of the Northern Water Tribe. Somewhere in her spare time she also manages to become one of the greatest waterbenders in the world, train the Avatar, defeat the princess of the Fire Nation in the middle of Sozin’s Comet and take care of the entire rest of the cast for an entire year living in tents and caves. Katara is a badass, and we love that.

So what about Aang? When we meet Aang, he is twelve years old. He is small and his voice hasn’t changed yet. His hobbies include dancing, baking and braiding necklaces with pink flowers. He loves animals. He doesn’t eat meat. He despises violence and spends nine tenths of every fight ducking and dodging. His only “weapon” is a blunt staff, used more for recreation than combat. Through the show, Aang receives most of his training from two young women – Katara and Toph – whom he gives absolute respect, even to the point of reverence. When he questions their instruction, it comes from a place of discomfort or anxiety, never superiority. He defers to women, young women, in matters of strategy and combat. Then he makes a joke at his own expense and goes off to feed his pet lemur.

Now there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for all this, and it’s the one that shielded Aang from the heroic limelight in my eyes for ten years. The reasoning goes like this: Aang is a child. He has no presumptuous authority complex, no masculinity anxiety, no self-consciousness about his preferred pastimes, because he’s twelve. He’s still the hero, but he’s the prepubescent hero, the hero who can’t lead the charge himself because he’s just not old enough. The problem is, that reasoning just doesn’t hold up when you look at him in the context of the rest of the show.

Let’s look at Azula. Aside from the Avatar himself, Zuko’s sister is arguably the strongest bender in the entire show. We could debate Toph and Ozai all day, but when you look at all Azula does, the evidence is pretty damning. Let’s make a list, shall we?

Azula completely mastered lightning, the highest level firebending technique, in her spare time on a boat, under the instruction of two old women who can’t even bend.

Azula led the drill assault on Ba Sing Sae, one of the most important Fire Nation operations of the entire war, and almost succeeded in conquering the whole Earth Kingdom.

Azula then bested the Kyoshi Warriors, one of the strongest non-bender fighting groups in the entire world, successfully infiltrated the Earth Kingdom in disguise, befriended its monarch, learned of the enemy’s most secret operation, emotionally manipulated her older brother, overthrew the captain of the secret police and did conquer the Earth Kingdom, something three Fire Lords, numerous technological monstrosities, and countless generals, including her uncle, failed to do in a century.

And she did this all when she was fourteen.

That last part is easy to forget. Azula seems so much her brother’s peer, we forget she’s the same age as Katara. And that means that when we first meet Azula, she’s only a year older than Aang is at the end of the series. So to dismiss Aang’s autonomy, maturity or capability because of his age is ridiculous, understanding that he and Azula could have been in the same preschool class.

We must then accept Aang for what he truly is: the hero of the story, the leader of the charge, who repeatedly displays restraint and meekness, not because of his age, not because of his upbringing, not because of some character flaw, but because he chooses too. We clamor for strong female characters, and for excellent reason. But nobody every calls for more weak male characters. Not weak in a negative sense, but weak in a sense that he listens when heroes talk. He negotiates when heroes fight. And when heroes are sharpening their blades, planning their strategies and stringing along their hetero love interests, Aang is making jewelry, feeding Appa, and wearing that flower crown he got from a travelling band of hippies. If all Aang’s hobbies and habits were transposed onto Toph or Katara, we’d see it as a weakening of their characters. But with Aang it’s cute, because he’s a child. Only it isn’t, because he’s not.

Even in his relationship with Katara, a landmark piece of any traditional protagonist’s identity, Aang defies expectations. From the moment he wakes up in episode one, he is infatuated with the young woman who would become his oldest teacher and closest friend. Throughout season one we see many examples of his puppy love expressing itself, usually to no avail. But there’s one episode in particular that I always thought a little odd, and that’s Jet.

InJet, Katara has an infatuation of her own. The titular vigilante outlaw sweeps her off her feet, literally, with his stunning hair, his masterful swordsmanship and his apparent selflessness. You’d think this would elicit some kind of jealousy from Aang. There’s no way he’s ignorant of what’s happening, as Sokka sarcastically refers to Jet as Katara’s boyfriend directly in Aang’s presence, and she doesn’t even dispute it. But even then, we never see any kind of rivalry manifest in Aang. Rather, he seems in full support of it. He repeatedly praises Jet, impressed by his leadership and carefree attitude. Despite his overwhelming affection for Katara, he evaluates both her and Jet on their own merits as people. There is no sense of ownership or macho competition.

Contrast this with Zuko’s reaction to a similar scenario in season three’s The Beach. Zuko goes to a party with his girlfriend, and at that party he sees her talking to another guy. His reaction? Throwing the challenger into the wall, shattering a vase, yelling at Mai, and storming out. This may seem a little extreme, but it’s also what we’d expect to an extent. Zuko is being challenged. He feels threatened in his station as a man, and he responds physically, asserting his strength and dominance as best he can.

I could go on and on. I could talk about how the first time Aang trains with a dedicated waterbending master, he tries to quit because of sexist double standards, only changing his mind after Katara’s urging. I could talk about how Aang is cast as a woman in the Fire Nation’s propaganda theatre piece bashing him and his friends. Because in a patriarchal society, the worst thing a man can be is feminine. I could talk about the only times Aang causes any kind of real destruction in the Avatar state, it’s not even him, since he doesn’t gain control of the skill until the show’s closing moments. Every time he is powerless in his own power and guilt-ridden right after, until the very end when he finally gains control, and what does he do with all that potential? He raises the rivers, and puts the fires out.

Aang isn’t what he’s supposed to be. He rejects every masculine expectation placed on his role, and in doing so he dodges center stage of his own show. It’s shocking to think about how many times I just forgot about Aang. Even at the end, when his voice has dropped and his abs have filled in, we miss it. Zuko’s coronation comes and we cheer with the crowd, psyched to see our hero crowned. Then the Fire Lord shakes his head, gestures behind him and declares “the real hero is the Avatar.” It’s like he’s talking to us. “Don’t you get it?” he asks. “Did you miss it? This is his story. But you forgot that. Because he was small. And silly. And he hated fighting. And he loved to dance. Look at him,” Zuko seems to say. “He’s your hero. Avatar Aang, defier of gender norms, champion of self-identity, feminist icon.”

Find a place inside where there’s joy, and the joy will burn out the pain.

Joseph Campbell

lifeofdai:

Life is like arriving late for a movie, having to figure out what was going on without bothering everybody with a lot of questions, and then being unexpectedly called away before you find out how it ends.

— Joseph Campbell, Creative Mythology