Nietzsche On Screenwriting
Freddy figured it outI assume that pretty much anyone serious about screenwriting has read Aristotle's Poetics, easily the most important (albeit incomplete) text ever written about the "how" of storytelling.
Poetics is very, well, Aristotelian. It's nuts and boltsy, a sort of dissection of the science of storytelling. This is, after all, the same man who spent his life establishing the foundations of logic, zoology, politics, metaphysics and few crucial geometric theories as well. What he *wasn't* was a poet or a playwright.
You might even argue that Aristotle was the first and ultimate Development Executive. For instance, how many times have we heard an exec trot out the typical "it's too episodic" note?
Well, Ari came up with that one over 2,000 years ago.
Of all plots and actions the episodic are the worst. I call a plot 'episodic' in which the episodes or acts succeed one another without probable or necessary sequence. --Poetics, 1.IX
Thanks, jerk.
Of course, he's dead right, and his invention of the basic "best practices" of drama are essential.
Still, wouldn't it be nice if there were the equivalent from another great thinker who happened to also write fiction? And wouldn't it be nice if instead of an answering "how should one write drama?" this thinker instead answered "what's the point of drama?"
Friends, I give you Friedrich Nietzsche's very first book: The Birth Of Tragedy. The edition I'm linking to is translated by Walter Kaufmann, who is frequently the best option when reading Nietzsche in English. There are other translations available for free reading on the web, but I'm not going to link to them because, frankly, they suck.
I'll shorthand Nietzsche's thesis as best I can, with the caveat that there are certainly a hundred philosophy grad students who would argue with me.
He says there's a basic dichotomy in art.
There's the Dionysian, which is the chaotic, experiential, existential, ephemeral and dream-like quality of existence every artist seeks to capture.
And then there's the Apollonian, which covers the structured, formal, tactile, permanent and representational quality of life and art.
To put a nice modern spin on it...getting high and whirling like a dervish at a Phish jam is pretty Dionysian, whereas sitting in a studio and using machines and technical expertise to make a *recording* of Phish is rather Apollonian.
Nietzsche felt that the essence of art was Dionysian. He believed that playwrights (and by extension, I'd argue, screenwriters) were called to their vocation by their desire and ability to tap into the common human chaos that runs through us all.
...let anyone feel the urge to transform himself and to speak out of other bodies and souls, and he will be a dramatist. --The Birth Of Tragedy, 8
The problem, however, is that the Dionysian is messy. Staring first-person into the abyss of irrationality, absurdity, emotion and delusion can make a person sick. Existential nausea, if you will.
Thus, Nietzsche posits, the transformative dramatist takes the Dionysian and formalizes it through the Apollonian structure of the play. Remember how I described the artist's relationship to the Dionysian above? We capture it in our art.
In this case...the screenplay.
The idea here is that when we write movies, we are taking the formless and giving it form. Through that form, we hope that the viewer can experience a brush with the Dionysian without absolutely losing their minds.
In other words, we get to watch the fiction of Sophie's Choice and experience something of the emotions involved in the Dionysian horror of that choice without having to actually experience the choice itself.
Once I phrase it that way you might think it obvious, but until Nietzsche said it, no one really quite understood that.
Once you start to believe that part of your job as a screenwriter is to capture the Dionysian within the Apollonian, you'll suddenly begin to understand why it is that light shining through plastic can make people laugh like idiots and weep like mourners...and then get up and walk outside and go on with the rest of their day.
The point of tragedy and comedy is to let us safely look into the beautiful and ugly absurdity of our own existence.
And that, my friends, is the philosophical underpinning of Scary Movie 4.
What? It is!
Craig,
Sounds like good stuff, but I am physically unable to read anything with even the whiff of philosophy at this point—so Aristotle and Nietzsche will have to remain unread. On the other hand, I’m currently reading Mascelli’s the Five C’s of Cinematography and am wondering why I didn’t read it before.
It seems to me, taking your and other professional screenwriters’ suggestions, that there are three types of materials one should read as a screenwriting.
(1) When Starting out: Lew Hunter’s 434 And one or two other beginning books to get a feel for the structure and form of a script.
(2) Developing your skills: Scripts, lots and lots of scripts. Mascelli/Stanislawski. Other non- screenwriting books related to the craft of filmmaking.
(3) Mastering your skills: Aristotle/the german guy whose name no-one pronouces correctly.
Or maybe I’m just looking for an excuse not to read another book related to screenwriting…
Cheers, T
Craig,
Nicely done. I’d only add that while I find Nietzsche a flaming adolescent in how he views the world, his position does lend itself well to appreciate the role of artist in our society. This ties back to a number or articles you’ve offered, from the role of theme, to making something human, to audience responsibilty, to…. And here’s the really Scary Movie: he considered such artists Ubermench, or Supermen.
Then again, you might like that personal log-line :-)
Trev,
Oxford University Press has an amazing “Very Short Introduction” series covering over a hundred fascinating subjects and thinkers. Their offering on Nietzsche, written by Michael Tanner, could not be a more accessible introduction to this - at times - infuriating thinker.
Best,
Lee
Shouldn’t that be one basic dichotomy in art instead of two? Two dichotomies would mean choosing between four options. But nitpicking aside, that’s a great observation that certainly captures much of my frustration with the creative process, especially as it applies to film.
Grant:
How embarrassing. :)
It’s changed!
C.
Lee:
You’re right about N and adolescence. And since this was his first book, it really holds true.
And I do suppose that his concept of “overcoming” really does pop up in almost everything I write here.
Great post! I added a link at my blog just for it: othermatt.blogspot.com
Craig,
I’ve thought about your article a bit more:
There is a book called The Poetics of Space by Gaston Bachelard, which makes almost the opposite argument. I can’t summarize a book as well as you, but, in short, Bachelard argues that familiar structures (such as our homes), familiar places and familiar things (such as the smell of a certain cookie from one’s youth) lead us to, and help us to, create.
There is another book called the Dot and the Line: A Romance in Lower Mathematics, in which a pretty, yet rather flighty Dot is attracted first to a disorderly squiggle, but eventually falls for the gentlemanly line, when the line learns, and then demonstrates to her, all the beautiful shapes he can make.
I think Nietzsche’s view of the creative cosmos is akin to the squiggle, Blanchard’s is akin to the line. When I sit down to write, I sit down at a particular place. I then put on my headphones, click on iTunes and listen to particular music. In a little bit I am able to enter my writing mode and I start writing. That place, and that music helps me to draw on my own, familiar, emotions and experiences when I write.
I hope that those emotions and experiences can be substituted for the emotions and experiences of an audience. What I think is funny or tragic, I hope the audience (or in my case the studio reader) will think is funny and tragic.
Of course I write about experiences that I have not had, or emotions that I have felt less intensely if at all—but I don’t try to channel these experiences and emotions from some random angry cosmos, instead I try to reach them by using some familiar experience or emotion as a first step. That step leads to second step, the second to a third, and wallah I’ve built a scene around an unfamiliar emotion or experience that feels real to me because I can see how I’ve gotten from point A to point B. And if I can see that, hopefully the audience (reader) can too.
Perhaps Nietzsche and Bachelard are not mutually exclusive, though, it seems to me that if Nietzsche is saying that out of Chaos, a writer can (and must?) bring Order, Bachelard is saying that from Order, a writer can bring a new and different Order, out of Chaos comes nothing.
Now my head hurts. Thanks again for the help.
T
A thought or two on Nietzche:
When discussing Nietzsche, no matter how scientific or “enlightened” one professes to be, one sould always find themself concerned with the literal return of his spirit; for of all the great philosophers, he alone is the one I fear could emerge from the ether after one of my characterizations, screaming: “Do not, above all, confound me with what I am not!”
It’s hard to discuss N without understanding he was a man arguing with a ghost, rather than a contemporary. In particular, he sought to overturn, or more accurately as Craig refers to - overcome - Kant’s view of reality which was fast becoming accepted 19th century dogma. It was Kant who argued reality was a synthesis of what is universally true with what is privately sensed. In Kant’s view, this suggested a ‘right behavior’ where one should strive to balance the intersection of universal structure with personal experience in order to achieve happiness.
To which, N said: ‘Horseshit!’
N spent the rest of his sane life (yes, he did go mad) prodding his fellow man to overcome any preconceived notions of what structure, hence reality, truly was. He invited people to experience the world a fresh, and communicated this with a passion oft seen in today’s televangelist (now I really expect his ghost to emerge). The rest you can read about, if you care to, but be forewarned that when one enters the realm where you question reality in earnest, your head is sure to hurt.
Lee
Lee,
I can’t bring myself to read N when there is so much else to do in this world. My (admittedly naive) perception of N has always been that like many philosophers he is attempting to come to terms with the change from a life based on faith (the medieval world) to something else (the modern world).
Arthur Allan Leff (Yale Legal Philsopher, who died relatively young) noted in a series of papers (Unspeakable Ethics, Unnatural Law and Some Realism about Nominalims) that any philosphy is subject to what he called “The Great Sez Who.” (Or as you say it “Horseshit”).
Leff pointed out that all philosphies, at some point, insert as an axiom the basis (or bases) for that philosphy. Taking your example of N: that he encouraged persons to “experience the world a fresh.” In that one sentence are several unprovable axioms—that you must assume to buy N’s theory: (1) Definitions as to meaning—what does it mean excactly to see the world afresh? (2) Definitions as to the possibility of the statement — can a person ever see the world afresh? Aren’t our perceptions determined in part by our past experiences? (3) Definitions as to the rightness — I just argued above that creation comes from the familiar not the fresh.
In other words, just as N said “Horseshit” to Kant, anyone can say “Horseshit” to him or to you or to me or to Craig or to anyone.
Leff, who was in college in the sixties, had a much more direct way of putting it (which I paraphrase from SRAN):
There is no philosphy or logic that can prove that napalming children is bad, unless it first asserts the same.
Leff, was an agnostic who when faced with his own personal existential crises stated the following (UE, UL):
“I want to believe —and so do you— in a complete, transcendent, and immanent set of propositions about right and wrong, findable rules that authoritatively and unambiguously direct us how to live righteously. I also want to believe —and so do you —in no such thing, but rather that we are wholly free, not only to choose for ourselves what we ought to do, but to decide for ourselves, individually and as a species, what we ought to be. What we want, Heaven help us, is simultaneously to be perfectly ruled and perfectly free, that is, at the same time to discover the right and good and to create it.”
Leff concluded by saying:
“All I can say is this: it looks as if we are all we have. Given what we know about ourselves, and each other, this is an extraordinarily unappetizing prospect; looking around the world, it appears that if all men are brothers, the ruling model is Cain and Abel. Neither reason, nor love, nor even terror, seems to have worked to make us “good,” and worse than that, there is no reason why any thing should. Only if ethics were something unspeakable by us could law be unnatural, and therefore unchallengeable. As things stand now, everything is up for grabs. Nevertheless:
Napalming babies is bad.
Starving the poor is wicked.
Buying and selling each other is depraved.
Those who stood up and died resisting Hitler, Stalin, Amin, and Pol Pot —and General Custer too— have earned salvation.
Those who acquiesced deserve to be damned.
There is in the world such a thing as evil.
[All together now:] Sez who?
God help us.”
After I read Leff, I gave up on philosophy. I group Leff with Godel. Just as Godel showed the limits of mathematics—any mathematics, Leff has shown the limits of philosophy—any philosophy. Unfortunately, Leff is not well known outside of Legal Academia.
What it comes down to is that either you take something on faith, or you don’t. N is fine if it works for you creatively, but if it works for it’s because you’re taking the underlying, unprovable axioms of N on faith.
The unprovable underlies everything that we do: You can’t prove to someone that creating art is better than not creating art. You can’t even prove that creating art is better than destroying art. Yet here on Craig’s site, we all take as a given that creating art is good.
Bringing this back to the discussion, Aristotle and N are both presenting systems that are ultimately arbitrary.
Take Ari’s quote on episodic content. As I write this I have playing around in my head a very rough outline of what might become a decent, though almost wholly episodic script based on Einstein’s Dreams (an almost wholly episodic novel). Better yet (and significantly less taxing on my brain) I can just go watch Mel Brook’s BLAZING SADDLES or read Roger Zelazny’s ROADMARKS (a great SF novel where events happen out of sequence and would no doubt drive Ari insane).
Leff would probably add at this point a note that though Ari and N’s system are arbitrary that doesn’t necessarily mean they’re wrong.
Cheers and apologies to Craig for the extended post (I understand if you delete it). T
CRAIG -
How do you see Nietzsche’s distinction actually impacting what you put on the page? What shows up in your writing (or should show up in anyone’s writing) as a result of embracing the idea of capturing the Dionysian within the Apollonian? I understand how Aristotle’s poetics relates - beginning, middle, end, unity, etc. - but the correlation is less evident with Nietzsche.
Trev:
You kiddin’? Great comment. Write all’s ya want.
Of course it’s all arbitrary. The only people who think it isn’t are the Cartesians who honestly believe our thought is rooted in the Divine. They’re probably happier than guys like you and me…but they’re wrong. :)
I think.
Jon:
Well, I guess the practical part of it all is how I choose to approach the writing. I always ask the Dionysian questions first. I let myself muck around in the emotions and irrationalities of my characters. I allow my characters to be nonsensical…logically perverted even, if necessary.
Then when I find some kernel of something that “feels right” (which is certain a pre-logical kind of thinking), then I begin to impose the demands of structure and form.
I think most writers do this naturally. I do get worried when I see some of the rookies in the other forums getting lost in the arcana of rules and such. I suppose part of our learning process is to first master the Apollonian so that we are comfortable embracing the Dionysian.
Jon and Craig —
I absolutely agree with Nietzsche that the essence of art is the Dionysian. The unnamable. The “you had to be there.” The chaotic, toe-curling irrational experience of being alive.
The consciousness that understands that its alive has to deal with the irrationality of its own existence. Scary shit. In swoops the storyteller to make mythical sense of it all. Or the doctor with the tiny blue pills.
I really like this conversation because it’s helping me understand something I’ve been pondering for awhile. Why is it that most beginners’ writing is not truly terrible, but instead stultifyingly, irrepressibly, unforgivably mediocre?
I think these writers must overlook (or skirt the edges of) the Dionysian.
But then, our culture tends to taboo the Dionysian. Except when it comes to Jerry Springer. Rock concerts. And the occasional Pentecostal tent revival.
But writing is supposed to be a journey into the grinning, chaotic abyss. And back out… with note cards and an outline. I mean, the only difference between The Jerry Springer Show and Jerry Springer, the Opera is that the latter had a writer — the one who delved in, stumbled back, dared to make sense, create meaning and purpose out of that circus of (mostly non-verbal) catharsis.
I guess if you don’t go in, then you’re not going to have very much to say. Your Apollonian map will look a bit like Kansas after a blizzard.
But the thing is, going in can be really, really scary. Not for the faint of heart. It is no mystery to me why so many writers are alcoholics. Or, for that matter, doctors. :-)
Every story is a map of that mystical journey into the unknown, in a way. That tapping into the common irrational experience of being alive. And then coming back, gleefully waving your pages, saying, “I’ve made sense of it. Here. Look. You’ll understand.”
To me, it’s one of the noblest things anyone can set out to do. Because everyone is, essentially, alone. And stories serve to connect us to each other. Our shared nightmares (horror). Our shared hopes and failures (drama). Our shared lust and love (romance). Our shared silliness and embarrasing biological functions (comedy). Our shared hubris (tragedy).
Oh, dear. I’ve just outed myself as an existentialist, haven’t I? Don’t tell George Bush. Or my Baptists relatives.
Trev,
Well, all you and I are going to do is agree here. I haven’t read Leff, though if he came after Godel, and presents what you offered, it sounds like he was leveraging Godel’s work to wrap Wittgenstein. (I’d argue anyone who offered 20th century nihilistic views - even Wittgenstein - was riding Godel’s coattails… interesting, now I think about it, the two great nihilists of the past two centuries - N & G - both went insane… be glad your head only hurts!).
Perhaps it’s meaningless in this conversation :-), but N ultimately came to reject the validity of his views on BOT, for he found them too dogmatic. It is interesting, however, to contrast N’s rejection of his earlier work against my favorite quote from his 20th century counterpart:
“Only fables, present the world as it should be and as if it had meaning.” ~ Kurt Godel
Lee
Lee,
This has been a very entertaining discussion, I only hope we haven’t bored Craig or his readers. I’m unsurprised that you haven’t read Leff, he is as noted, a legal philospher, and tends to only get read by, and quoted by, legal thinkers. I’m misrepresenting him when I say that he rejected philosphy as arbitrary, it is more correct to say he rejected philosphy, the social sciences and pretty much any other system people use to make sense of the cosmos as arbitrary.
For him philosphy, economics, history, language, what have you—were all just different matrices that people used to view the world. None was more correct than any other, and useful things could be garnered from using a particular matrix in a particular way, but all matrices shared the same flaws.
Leff didn’t go crazy, but he did die in his forties from a brain tumor.
The Leff line that haunts me [from Some Realism About Nominalism (60 Virgina Law Review 1974)] is at the very end of the conclusion to the article, which, if Craig doesn’t mind I will quote the last paragraph (almost) in full:
[Note: The article is ostensibly a book review of Richard Posner’s Economic Analysis of the Law.]
“…I think we shall have to continue wrestling with a universe filled with too many things about which we understand too little and then evaluate them against standards we don’t even have. That doesn’t mean that any of us—especially bright, talented and sensitive people like Richard Posner—should stop what they are doing and gaze silently into the buzz. What he is doing and has done (including this book) enriches us all. But (to get us back where we started) he (and all of us) should keep in mind what I think is the most lovely moment in Don Quixote. When asked by a mocking Duke if he actually believes in the real existence of his lady Dulcinea, the Don replise:
‘This is not one of those cases where you can prove a thing conclusively. I have not begotten or given birth to my lady, although I contemplate her as she needs must be…’
One can understand the impulse, and be touched by the attempt, but the world is never as it needs must be. If it ever so seems, it is not the thing illuminated one is seeing, but the light.”
Leff, would, I think, consider Godel’s fables as simply another brilliant blinding light. Beautiful, to be sure, but still blinding.
Cheers, T
Jaylynn:
That’s right. WE have to face the abyss when we tell stories. That’s our miserable lot…but we get to be the ones who, as you put it, make sense of it all for the audience.
Lee:
There are long chunks of the book that stink, and Nietzsche repudiated almost everything he wrote about Wagner in BoT. I don’t know if he ever turned his back on his theory of the purpose of drama, however.
By the by, since a few of you are Godel fans…have you been following this latest hoo-ha over Fermat’s theorem, the invalidation of the recent proof…and a possible new theory of numbers?
Craig:
Hate to keep coming back to nuts and bolts, but I’m very interested in how other writers - especially ones making a better living at it than me - face the process. One of my great frustrations (there are so many) is that I start with a story conceit and spend an inordinate amount of time wiring back into characters that make sense for it. It takes me forever to find the right lead for the conceit. On the other hand, it almost sounds like you start with characters and play with them until the story begins to take shape. Am I reading in too much?
On a more philosophical note - to add on to what Lee and Trev are saying - I think Nietzsche and Gödel’s nihilism is answered by postmodernism, in which we are called upon to actually create values and be responsible for them, knowing full well there is no outside authority to justify them, rather than being allowed to merely accept the existential abyss and cry about it. Bringing it home, American screenwriting has a long tradition of mainstream writers understanding the political and social implications of their writing and, in fact, relying upon that responsibility to focus the themes of their work (e.g. John Howard Lawson). Accepting a purely nihilist POV allows the writer to write anything no matter how putrid it’s values are. The challenge (at least to me) is to embrace a story philosophy that rises above that. For many thinkers who are no longer able to rely upon the devine as a source of values, I think postmodernism provides a place to stand.
Jon,
Interesting stuff. My own solution to the problems posed by modernism, was the opposite of yours. I embraced the medieval mind and converted to Catholicism.
I’d be interested in Craig’s (and the other pros) answer(s) to your nuts & bolts question too. Though I wish you had elaborated a bit more of how you work: I can’t think of a story idea seperate from the main characters that need to inhabit that idea. Putting it another way, I seem to be unable to create a story molecule just based on “X happens” — which is what you seem to be saying—I can only build a story molecule out of “X happens to Y.” Plot and Character develop together.
Am I just completely misinterpreting what you’re saying?
Cheers, T
Jon:
Sometimes I start with a story, but just as often, I start with a theme or a character.
Maybe the most important nuts-and-bolts thing to learn from all this philosophy is that there’s a significant part of the process that isn’t nuts-and-bolts, can’t be taught…and must be struggled through and overcome.
Jon Deer-
Couldn’t agree more, vis-a-vis postmodernism. It’s a leap for folks who want their morality grounded in external authority or an internally consistent logical system. But ultimately, there’s just as much power in saying “I have decided that Napalming babies is wrong, and I choose to live my life accordingly - and be responsible for that choice.”
On a practical note, I will make this observation on Craig’s Nietzchean theory of screenwriting:
The Dionysian screenwriter sells brilliant-sounding pitches he can’t execute.
The Appolonian screenwriter is brought in to fix the mess of a script the Dionysian screenwriter turned in, only to have the executive tell him that “something’s missing.”
The Superman transcends these categories and writes a script that is both inspired and well-executed, and then spends his days making $200,000 a week doing production rewrites.
Matt:
I love that. :)
But let’s stick with precedent. The production rewrite guy is the UberSchreiber!
C.
Craig,
Towards the end of N’s sane writing, he expressed doubt about the entire concept of opposition. Large parts of Beyond Good & Evil were devoted to developing a concept of unity, which, of course, would reject the explicit duality present with the A & D construct.
[disclaimer: I am far, far, far, from a N scholar, and do not pretend to play one on television or the internet. I would look forward to any corrections to the above (mis)understanding]
I would quickly add, however, that when one ventures too far into skepticism - especially to the point of nihilism - you lose the ability to say anything. In short, useful constructs, such as A & D for your writing, are the proverbial baby tossed with the bath water.
Which is a rather stupid thing to do if you’re a smart person.
As for the invalidation of the Fermat’s theorem, no, I was not aware of that; do you have a link? I’d love to read about that. As for the “new theory of numbers,” that’s a bit open ended. I’m aware of one researcher’s work building a new class of primitives which could be classified as “numbers” (Wolfram), but I doubt that’s what your referring to. Or not? Again, a link would be appreciated.
One last comment on this whole ‘constructs of writing’ thread. It is little more than a parlor trick - and an especially geeky one at that - for the skeptic to prance in and throw any construct into doubt. And while I have played that game, there is a pushback to which the skeptic must remain silent; namely: how is it possible we can even communicate?
Here is where the magic of language comes in, and in particular, our use of story to synthesise our world experience and share it with others. It’s all rather amazing to me.
Gonna stare at my navel, now, and ponder what it must be like to be an UberSchreiber.
Lee
Lee:
I’m aware of BGE’s push towards a new morality (or overcoming of the Judeo-Christian morality…the overman’s ability to create his own value system, enforced by his will), but I don’t recall it specifically invalidating the notion of all duality.
As much as Nietzsche seemed nihilistic, I think he wasn’t. He wanted to replace the systems that weren’t worth believing in with those that were.
But hey…he was also intentionally vague. Then he hugged a horse and went cuckoo, so we’ll never know. :)
Here’s the story about Fermat’s Theorem. It’s wild stuff.
For instance, there’s something called “trichotomy” in mathematics. It says that for every A and B, either A equals B, A is greater than B, or A is less than B.
Makes sense, right?
Turns out…it might not be true.
Chew on THAT one!
Craig,
Well, regarding N, one more thing to discuss over a single malt. As for Fermat’s Theorem, there’s a reason why I have not heard of the invalidation of Wiles’ proof; that’s because it has not been disproved. Escultura’s objections are ignorant of basic set theory (his “trichotomy” and axiom of choice rebuttals are undergrad level mistakes - Wiles’ reply is sarcasm at its finest), and are the type of quackery that professionals must endure regularly from over-eager amateurs.
Witness this site :-)
Best,
Lee
Lee:
Yeah, that’s why I called it a “hoo-hah”. :) Still, it’s kind of fun when the mathematical equivalent of cold fusion comes along.
And I love quackery!
As for our amateur readers, I have to say that I’ve been absolutely amazed at and grateful for the level of discussion this site has generated so far.
Accepting a purely nihilist POV allows the writer to write anything no matter how putrid it’s values are.>>>>
Jon —
You might be confusing nihilism with social relativism. I’m not sure. A lot of the conversation I’ve read in this thread reads like Fermat’s last theorum to me. And I flunked calculus. Twice.
I don’t believe that there is a writer alive who is truly nihilistic. Not even Neitzsche. It could just be me, and the thousands of tons of diesal fuel it requires in order for me to actually sit down in front of the computer and focus my brain on the blank page… but I’ve always thought that the written word — no matter how bleak or nihilistic or Hunter S. Thompson-esque — always betrays itself. Because the act of writing itself requires that one have hope. The actual putting down of words on paper means that one must be anticipating an audience to read those words and respond to those thoughts. And to anticipate an audience means to anticipate a shared experience. And a shared experience itself is, by definition, anti-nihilistic.
As to Nietzsche’s eventual loss of sanity, I can quote another great thinker, and a decidedly under appreciated one at that:
“The only difference between a madman and a mystic? The mystic swims in the sea of insanity in which the madman drowns.” Walker Percy
While I agree that no one, not even Nietzsche, is a pure nihilist (at least not up until he went insane), I’m not confusing nihilism with social relativism. The nihilistic values of Nietzsche and many others lead to a moral crisis in the twentieth century with which thinkers and artists continue to struggle. The way out still seems to be (i) resurrect an old moral framework (e.g. religion), (ii) find a new moral framework, e.g. postmodernism, or (iii) become indifferent. My suggestion is that, at least for me, postmodernism provides an appropriate basis from which to evaluate the moral impact of my writing, a much more appropriate basis than indifference.
For reference, from the Internet Encyclopedia Of Philosphy:
Jon,
One could argue that postmodernism’s greatest moral contribution has been to pave the way for our rampant consumerism; which - in my book - makes indifference or “old” moral frameworks look rather… good.
Damn, don’t press that post button, Lee… don’t press it… don’t press it…
Lee,
I’m not sure I get the connection between postmodernism and rampant consumerism, but I would be the last one to argue that postmodernism or any other value system is free of negative consequences. To me, a struggle between value systems is at the heart of most stories for that very reason. As writers, we get to allow our audiences to safely explore difficult value issues and see “the beautiful and ugly absurdity of our own existence.”
(Notice how my hands never left my sleeve as I somehow managed to relate this tangent to Craig’s initial premise about the purpose of comedy and tragedy.)
Jon,
Well, this is where I wanted to go with this “tangent:” Craig’s (and almost any screenwriter’s) Apollonian structure must meet a basic commercial constraint, which limits the scope of any Dionysian investigation. That you have gracefully (with hands in sleeves :-), transitioned to this point, Jon, is appreciated*.
The explicit question to all who care: how do commercial constraints affect the story values you are able to investigate? Are there issues in your Dionysian explorations which you are unable to fit into an acceptable Apollonian structure? If so, what have they been and how do you reconcile any sense of loss in being unable to present them to an audience?
Lee
* I do see a strong link between postmodernism and rampant consumerism, yet you are wise in steering us clear of that rat-hole. Thanks, Jon.
Lee wrote:
Here’s where we part ways. I don’t think there are any story values or subject matter or thematic content that can’t be presented in a commercial way.
I’ve always maintained, for instance, that Toy Story 2 is no less than an exploration of the paradox of mortality: to enjoy life, we must spend it, and by spending it, we eventually lose it. What to do then? Enjoy it while it lasts.
Consider the speech that Stinky Pete gives to Woody in the baggage area at the airport. It’s a toy version of “You fool! You will age and wither! Your body will fail, your mind will turn against you. The people who love you will cease to care about you. You’ll be discarded by the world, and you will die lonely and in terrible pain. When the end comes, your flesh will rot and there is no afterlife as a reward! Life is futile! The only salvation is to not be played with! To deny your desire and embrace sterility!”
Pretty damned dark.
On the other hand, living a sterile life of perserved suspension in a box or a museum isn’t really living. Just as a human must live, even though every day is a step closer to death, so too must a toy be played with, even though each play session is a step closer to boredom and disposal.
Toy Story 2 stares right into the abyss, and the quality of its Apollonian craft is so impeccable, everyone can enjoy it.
I maintain that there is no theme that can’t be presented commercially.
Craig,
I’m not sure if I agree or disagree with your statement.
Theme is like the parable of the elephant and the blind men. I’m sure we all know it, but if y’all don’t mind I’ll repeat it.
Six blind men encounter an elephant. Each man touches a different part of the elephant. One blind men touches the nose. “This thing called elephant,” he says, “is akin to a snake, thin and long.” Another man touches the tusks, “you are incorrect,” he says,”this thing called elephant, is akin to a rock, hard and solid and smooth.” Another blind man touches the side of the elephant. “You are both wrong,” he says, “this thing called elephant, it is akin to a road, large, wide and rough.” And so each blind man touched a different part of the elephant, and proclaimed it similiar to a different thing.
Both the film TOY STORY 2 and the play OUR TOWN have as central themes the problem of our knowledge of our own mortality. Each author is like the blind man, finding slightly different answers when exploring the same thematic elephant.
I’d argue that the parable of the blind men and the elephant expands to encompass all the philosphy that has been discussed here.
In N’s terms the elephant is the Dionysian Comos, the blind men the dramatists exploring it, the Apollonian craft, the individual ability of each dramatist to best describe that portion they touch. In Godel’s terms the elephant is the Mathematical Cosmos, the blind men the mathematicians. In Leff, the elephant is the world, the blind men seperately an economist, an author, a philospher, and etc.
Which brings me back to the where I started this post, if what you meant when you said “no theme can’t be presented commercially” is that every thematic elephant has at least one tusk or nose or a tail that can be presented commercially in film, I’d agree.
If you meant that every blind dramatist who touches the elephent can present what they touch as a commercially successful film (emphasis here on film), I’d have to disagree. Not because the dramatist is a poor writer, but because that theme is better expressed elsewhere. My example is the aforementioned OUR TOWN. OUR TOWN, is best experienced as live theater. It can be filmed, and indeed (perhaps) with proper marketing might be a successful film—but no film adaptation can improve on the experience of sitting and watching it performed as a play. More to your point, no film adaptation [and IIRC, I think there’s only been one] can result in the same thematic power as one can get from watching the performance.
Cheers, Trev
Well, there’s a difference between “that theme is better expressed in another medium” and “that theme can’t be presented in a commercially successful film.”
I’m saying yes…all themes can be presented in a commercial film.
When you talk about Our Town, you’re talking about an Apollonized bit of Dionysus, aka “art”. I’m not talking about the suitability of all art to film adaptation…just all theme.
Wow, what a cool discussion.
Though I think my head is going to explode. :)
Craig,
At this point, I want to fade back to the role of lurker for the remainder of the thread, for my strongest rebuttals to your position are academic in nature, and, quite honestly, irrelivant in understanding how established practitioners approach the craft I am deeply interested in pursuing. Suffice to say that I appreciate the responses of all, and value this forum and the quality of the exchange.
Best,
Lee
Lee:
‘twas a pleasure. All of you, really, hell of a discussion.
Want to posit that Nietzche was not a static philosopher like Wagner, Schoepenhouer and Kant, his views reflected the changing times. His views changed. I believe this quote to be among his best:
“Compulsory education for all has lowered cultural standards; thinkers and writers have come to think and write for the masses.”
And has as much impact on GOOD screenwriting as the Dionysian/Apollonian structure. As it should be, a good work should favor the art rather than the audience.
Although it seems that some here think him as nihilist, in reality he grew up in favor of Wagner, Kant and Schoepenhouer according to Walter Kaufmann. I cannot say that I am a philsopher and have thoroughly studied Nietzche’s work, but I have read two of his books, and the above statement coming from a translator of his work, Walter Kaufmann, holds more weight than others. Dont want to turn this into a philosophy debate in which i will get annihilated by a philosophy ph.d., but there is a misinterpretation (most likely a grudge) that people hold because his philosophy became strongly anti-Christian and he supported life rather than praise. He frequently made this connection with war (praise does not save lives) and friends (who aid in a progressive life).
while nihilism is the philosophy of hopelessness
Niet’s view of aesthetics did indeed change pretty quickly. His most interesting ‘quotes’ on Art actually came from his middle/late period. I think an aspect of him that is ENTIRELY more relevant for writers in general is a book called Life as Literature by Nehamas. I found it very fluent in representing N as a literary character within his own works. Life as narration. His early views on the Dionisysion and Apollonian quickly became irrelevant, although they are very attractive in their own ways - creative ecstasy vs creation by method cannot be so easily separated in the long term.
Sarah:
Seeing as how I studied under Nehamas at Princeton, I couldn’t agree more. :)
Then again, this article was really an introductory piece, and since Nehamas began the course with BoT, I figured I was safe in doing so here as well.
I would just like to say I found your thesis very interesting. Thank you. Among other things, I have graduated from NYU’s film school, shot a few independent films, and am also a writer/illustrator (published), and a great lover of Nietszche.
One thing I’ve noticed disciples/haters of Nietszche do is get quite superior when discussing him (this is not pointed at you, but some commentary above), as if they are chanelling his vast intellect, mental facility, and arrogance, all at once. I always find this disappointing. Superior not only in their discussion of his ideas, but when discussing him. (But perhaps this tone and approach is inevitable due to the nature of the content?)
I tend to think N would, actually, like such debate. Also, I think it matters not what I think he would think of such debate. At the same time, I always find such contentiousness it a bit…well. “Annoying” is too strong a word. Sad? Unfortunate. Maybe that’s a good choice. Unfortunate. But that is, perhaps, due to my own view and connection with his work. And we all have our own. But mine was so enlightening that when people say “Oh, Nietszche was a juvenile” or “reactionary” or “sexist,” or whatever terms they use to place themselves just a tad higher than him, I think it is a waste of their own time.
I guess I see Nietszche like religion, or art. A source of great inspiration, and you either get it or you do not. I love the discussion of the Dionysian and the Apollonian. I find echoes of this pattern in other areas of discussion. I recently read a pHd thesis that discussed the ole “confronting the void” analogy that artists live. It spoke at length about oh, hell, what were the terms? I’ll have to find it, but it correlated amazingly to the artist who identified with his chaotic maelstrom, the birthplace of unframed, unfiltered, or undefined invention, and who refused to engage the other necessary element of creation, (“secondary process”?) which was the mature, organized, technique-driven part. In refusing to identify with this second element of creation, they felt they were purer “artists,” never crafting, thinking, or hestitation too much, always with one hand on the God-Machine. It was very good, and you are getting a sad translation through me and my retelling.
But my point is that I continue to find echoes of N’s thoughts and ideas throughout the world and my life, and as unshakeable truths do, their essence remains unchanged, while their form changes. This, I feel, is the key to recognizing a Truth in life.
Anyway, I ramble. But I do not find Nietszche’s ideas “outdated,” or able to be reduced and defined by “his reaction to social context.” He was a brilliant man, unlike any other, and if one needs to reexamine the envelope of his ideas to get at the unflinching message within, that is on oneself—to unravel the language and issues of the day, the ones that have seeped into their own mind, the ones that present a garbled language that it is their own job to decipher. There is a conversion possible with almost everything I’ve read of his. Perhaps not all. But that may just be because I do not understand, not because he did not say it right.
I am hesitant to say there is any “bad” art at all because of this. I truly have found in my own life, that there is art that you connect with, and art you do not. And any other presumption of judgment is illusory.
I realize that I have been discussing Nietszche rather than N-as-applied to your topic. Perhaps I am being reactionary now, after reading a string of commentary on the man who so opened my eyes (along with many other writers/artists).
Anyway, I originally was just passing through, and found your topic and musings original and interesting. Wanted to tell you as much. Forgive me for blathering on about Mr. N.
JRH:
Thanks for the comment. Having had more than a few chats with students of Nietzsche, I found myself nodding along with a lot of what you wrote. :)
JRH:
For the careful reader, your statement rings irony to it. What would Zarathushtra think of Nietzsche for channeling his image and philosophy on life to create his own Zarathushtra in “Thus Spoke Zarathushtra”. I could imagine it now, if Zarathushtra and Nietzsche met, which philosopher would be more humble; the one who attempts to recreate Zarathushtrian beliefs or the origin of philosophy; Zarathushtra. Would not Nietzsche be a disciple (of most)/hater (of some of) Zarathushtra’s teachings? Your statements could just as well be positioned from Zarathushtra’s point of view, of how Nietzsche is a disciple/hater of his “vast intellect, mental facility, and arrogance….”. I would have to agree with you that they were both luminaries.
JRH:
For the careful reader, your statement rings irony to it. What would Zarathushtra think of Nietzsche for channeling his image and philosophy on life to create his own Zarathushtra in “Thus Spoke Zarathushtra”. I could imagine it now, if Zarathushtra and Nietzsche met, which philosopher would be more humble; the one who attempts to recreate Zarathushtrian beliefs or the origin of philosophy; Zarathushtra. Would not Nietzsche be a disciple (of most)/hater (of some of) Zarathushtra’s teachings? Your statements could just as well be positioned from Zarathushtra’s point of view, of how Nietzsche is a disciple/hater of his “vast intellect, mental facility, and arrogance….”. I would have to agree with you that they were both luminaries.
JRH:
For the careful reader, your statement rings irony to it. What would Zarathushtra think of Nietzsche for channeling his image and philosophy on life to create his own Zarathushtra in “Thus Spoke Zarathushtra”. I could imagine it now, if Zarathushtra and Nietzsche met, which philosopher would be more humble; the one who attempts to recreate Zarathushtrian beliefs or the origin of philosophy; Zarathushtra. Would not Nietzsche be a disciple (of most)/hater (of some of) Zarathushtra’s teachings? Your statements could just as well be positioned from Zarathushtra’s point of view, of how Nietzsche is a disciple/hater of his “vast intellect, mental facility, and arrogance….”. I would have to agree with you that they were both luminaries.
“Nicely done. I�d only add that while I find Nietzsche a flaming adolescent in how he views the world […]”
It’s always amusing to hear inferiors condescend to their superiors. Please, enlighten us to this monolithic view of the world that Nietzsche possesses, and that you understand so well!
Trev:
“Bringing this back to the discussion, Aristotle and N are both presenting systems that are ultimately arbitrary”.
If you knew anything at all about Nietzsche, then you would know that he is the primary architect of the doctrine of Perspectivism that you so naively invoke to call his work into question. Do you feel foolish, now? You should.
P.S. Nietzsche was opposed to philosophical systems, and he never created one.