Movies and the Mind

by William Indick

  The Hero’s Initiation

  In the middle stages of his journey, the young squire learns the skills and wisdom that initiate him into the field of heroism. Though the hero faces many tests and obstacles, he does not become a true hero until the end of these stages, when he confronts and overcomes his deepest fear.

  Once the hero has accepted his call and sets out on his journey, he must gather some allies and a means of transport to get him to his final destination. This stage of the journey is the hero’s first stop on his road of trials. It’s a long and rough road, fraught with hardships and perils, so why not have a little drink first? Just as the first stop on the journey for the ancient hunting parties was the watering hole, the first stop for the hero and his mentor is the saloon. As the hero and his mentor have “one for the road” in the rowdy bar, tavern or saloon that invariably exists in the first outpost of the uncivilized world, he comes into contact with a brand new type of person. The men in the outpost tavern are adventurers, warriors and journeymen—not the simple folk the hero knew in his sleepy hometown. In Moby Dick (1956) and Treasure Island (1950), the tough seaport towns are where the hero first comes into contact with the dangerous sailors and crusty old sea dogs with whom he’ll become acquainted on his journey. They are a glimpse not only of his future, but of his destiny as well.

  The hero is at first overwhelmed and scared, but he must overcome his naiveté and keep his business in mind. If he gets pulled into a fight, he’ll have to show his mettle long before he’s ready for such a challenge. This is what happens to Luke in Star Wars. He and Obi-Wan are at the tavern to find a ship and pilot to take them off the planet. A rough looking alien picks a fight with Luke simply because he doesn’t like his face. The young squire would have found a quick end if he didn’t have Obi-Wan watching his back. Similarly, in The Lord of the Rings, Frodo and his hobbit companions would not have lasted long at The Prancing Pony, the tough tavern in the outpost town of Bree, if their new ally, Aragorn (Viggo Mortensen), wasn’t there to protect them.

  The stage in which the hero or mentor gathers allies is often one of the most engaging sequences in the film. When Jason in Jason and the Argonauts (1963) accepts the call to seek the Golden Fleece, he spends a good deal of time gathering the bravest heroes in all of Greece—classical heroes such as Theseus, Hercules, Orpheus and others. In Akira Kurosawa’s classic The Seven Samurai (1954), much of the movie is dedicated to the gathering of the hero warriors. The same structure was adopted in the famous American remake of Kurosawa’s film, The Magnificent Seven (1960).

  The hero must also obtain transport at the first outpost. Jason’s first step was to hire the famous shipbuilder Argo to create his heroic vessel, hence the name of Jason’s allies—the “Argonauts.” Odysseus also gathered the best ship and crew before setting sail on his epic journey. In the modern myth, Luke manages to find an able ship, the Millennium Falcon, along with a crew, Han Solo (Harrison Ford) and Chewbacca. Similarly, at The Prancing Pony, the hobbits in The Lord of the Rings gain Aragorn as their guide. Regardless of the number of allies needed, by gathering his crew of heroes and guiding them into adventure, the hero demonstrates another essential quality of heroism—leadership.

  Epiphany

  The road of trials in the Second Act generally leads the hero closer and closer to the central crisis of the film, which is the moment of critical development for the hero. The protagonist completes his arc by achieving a personal revelation that changes him in some significant way. The central crisis or “ordeal” is, in fact, an identity crisis that the hero must resolve in order to complete this stage of the journey and carry on with the rest of his adventure. The change that he undergoes is an “epiphany,” a great moment of realization about his own Self. Though the two levels of the story—the internal journey and the external journey—seldom intertwine, the epiphany is the one brief moment in which the fabric of the veil between realism and symbolism tears. The hero can see through the veil of his actions. He gains insight into the psychological symbolism of his mission. The hero realizes that in saving the maiden, hometown, world or universe, he is also saving his own soul. The epiphany is a moment of clarity, a moment of truth and a moment of spiritual awakening. It reveals the hero to himself, unmasking his persona and changing him forever.

  EPIPHANY AS ACCEPTANCE OF THE CALL

  There is a change in the protagonist’s identity that comes about when he accepts the call to adventure and begins to identify himself as an emergent hero. Typically, this change is different from the epiphany that the protagonist undergoes at the climax of his journey, when he identifies himself completely with the fully developed hero archetype, and he experiences a deep revelation about himself, his mission and his purpose in life. However, in some stories, the hero’s acceptance of the call represents such a monumental shift in his self-concept that the acceptance is also a full-blown epiphany. This type of structure is common in stories where the hero accepts his call in gradual stages.

  At the beginning of Moses’ journey in The Ten Commandments, Moses is an Egyptian prince who uses and abuses the Israelite slaves as cruelly and selfishly as his brother and father. To fulfill his destiny, Moses must accomplish a complete identity revolution—from Egyptian tyrant to Israelite liberator. His acceptance of his call to liberate the Israelites comes in stages. First, he begins to sympathize with the Israelites. Then he realizes that he actually is an Israelite. Then he abandons his aristocratic position and identifies himself as an Israelite slave. Then he kills an Egyptian slave-master in defense of a fellow Israelite. This act of rebellion leads him to exile in Sinai, where he receives and accepts his call from God to liberate his people. Moses’ acceptance of his call is an epiphany, but he has clearly been working towards this identity revolution for many years.

  Similarly, in The Lord of the Rings, Frodo’s acceptance of his call to adventure occurs in stages. First, he agrees to take the ring of power to Bree, a nearby village. Then he is forced to take the ring to Rivendell, a farther and more dangerous journey. At Rivendell, Frodo accepts the call to bear the ring to Mordor, an epic and treacherous journey into the heart of darkness, but he is clearly ambivalent about his new identity as the “Ringbearer.” In the subsequent stages of his journey, Frodo expresses constant doubt about his worthiness to bear the ring. He diffuses his responsibility by remaining a member of the Fellowship of the Ring, and he even offers the ring to an elfin queen. Frodo doesn’t fully accept his calling as the one true Ringbearer until the end of the first film, when he experiences a personal revelation about the awesome significance of his quest. Frodo’s acceptance of his call is accomplished through an epiphany of identity development.

  In other stories, the epiphany and acceptance of the call are simultaneous, resulting in a Third Act which is relatively simple and uncomplicated. In The Blues Brothers (1980), the brothers (John Belushi and Dan Ackroyd) experience a jubilant epiphany in a church when they “see the light.” After dancing and throwing somersaults and back flips, they accept their call to adventure. The brothers set off on their journey to reunite their band of musician heroes and make the money to pay the back taxes on a Catholic orphanage. After the brothers dedicate themselves to their “mission from God,” the film becomes relatively “plot light.” Most of the Second Act is filled with entertaining musical numbers, and the entire Third Act is an action-packed chase scene that ends with the brothers paying the taxes and saving the orphans from being evicted. (Incidentally, I don’t think the screenwriters realized that Catholic orphanages don’t have to pay taxes).

  HAMARTIA

  The epiphany is not only important in terms of the protagonist’s personal development, it is also crucial to the plot. The epiphany allows the protagonist to overcome his hamartia—the personal weakness or tragic character flaw which has been holding the squire back from developing into a full-blown hero. The hamartia isn’t a puny everyday flaw such as bad breath or smelly feet. These flaws aren’t tragic or deeply personal
. The ancient myths really show us what a hamartia is. When Thetis, the sea goddess, dipped her son Achilles into the mystical river Styx, she made his body impervious to any weapon. However, Achilles’ heel, which was covered by Thetis’s hand, was not immersed in the magic water, so this part of his body was completely vulnerable. Similarly, Superman, a contemporary version of the mythological warrior, had a similar external hamartia—his vulnerability to Kryptonite, the meteorites from Superman’s destroyed planet, Krypton. Both of these hamartias are truly personal because they relate directly to the hero’s unique backstory.

  Typically, the hamartia is an inner flaw or psychological issue rather than an external vulnerability. The psychological hamartia must be resolved through character development. In the Greek myths, the heroes tended to be so great and powerful that their hamartias were their own hubris—the arrogance and conceit a hero develops as a side effect of his superiority over regular mortals. Hubris was the hamartia of Hercules, who would never admit to needing help. Hubris was also seen in the vanity of Narcissus and Cassiopeia, and the egoistic indulgences of Zeus and Aphrodite. Heroes in the Judeo-Christian tradition tend to have a problem contradictory to hubris. Their sense of humility is so great that they cannot believe that they have a divine destiny as the savior of their people. Noah, Moses and Jesus all could not accept the fact of their divinely chosen destinies until their moments of great epiphany.

  The modern myths tend to borrow from both the Greek and Judeo-Christian traditions. Frodo Baggins consistently balks at the notion that he, a tiny hobbit, is destined to be the all-important Ringbearer. It seems that Frodo could learn a thing or two from the book of Yoda, the tiny yet incredibly powerful Jedi master who’s diminutive size stands in direct contrast to his awesome control of the Force. Similarly, Luke Skywalker finds it hard to believe that he, a rather normal baby-faced boy, is the son of Darth Vader, the omnipotent dark lord of the evil Emperor. Other movie heroes tend to err in the opposite direction. They have too much self-confidence and seem to always take on more than they can chew. Luke’s father, Anakin, was plagued with the hamartias of rage and hubris. Like the mighty Hercules, he falls from grace when he decides to release his pent-up anger by fighting all of his enemies single-handedly.

  In the very western tradition of independence and rugged individualism, heroes like Lawrence in Lawrence of Arabia and General Gordon (Charlton Heston) in Khartoum (1966) don’t think twice before taking on entire Arab nations without help. In Lawrence of Arabia, Lawrence walks arrogantly through an enemy Turkish town without fear of being caught, believing that his self-ordained destiny as the Arab savior would make him invisible. Lawrence’s hubris leads to his ordeal, in which he is brutally tortured and raped by a sadistic Turk officer. In an interesting reversal of the archetypal identity theme, Lawrence’s epiphany is that he is not a divine messiah, but that he is in fact just an “ordinary man.” Lawrence’s challenge at this stage of his journey is to find a reason to stay committed to his cause, beyond his shattered beliefs in personal destiny and glory. He must redefine himself and his goals in order to carry on.

  Goddess and Temptress

  In Campbell’s model, the stages in which the hero overcomes his hamartia and experiences epiphany are moments in which the hero encounters and integrates the different archetypes of his Self. Each of these encounters develops the hero by adding a fundamental element to his character. In the meeting with the goddess, the hero encounters the earth goddess archetype. She is the psychological representation of the mother figure. The goddess typically offers some emotional wisdom or insight. A very common archetype in myth is the “oracle goddess” who provides a prophecy. For example, in The Lord of the Rings, Frodo’s goddess is Galadriel (Cate Blanchett), the queen of the forest elves. Galadriel allows Frodo to look into her magical mirror, showing him a glimpse of things to come. But the mirror—an archetype in and of itself—is just an illusion. Looking into the mirror only shows the hero what is hidden inside his own mind. Frodo already knows what will happen in the near future, the goddess merely helps him to look inside himself. The function of the prophet goddess’s mirror, crystal ball or tarot cards is to help the hero get in touch with wisdom that he already has in his unconscious.

  A second archetype that the hero may encounter is the woman as temptress. Here, the hero meets up with the anima archetype, the representation of female beauty, sensitivity and passion within the male hero’s psyche. Often times, the anima is a temptress who leads the hero away from his destined path and into danger. The beautiful Sirens in Odysseus’s journey tempt the hero with their beauty and lure him into danger. In silent movies, female characters were generally either an “ingenue” or a “vamp.” The ingenue was the “good girl,” the positive version of the anima archetype that the hero will marry in the end. The vamp was the “bad girl,” the temptress who was up to no good. She used her sexuality to lure the hero into danger, and she represented most of the negative qualities of femininity. The vamp never wound up with the hero in the end. In Vanilla Sky, Sophia (Penélope Cruz) was the good girl, the positive side of the anima. Julie (Cameron Diaz) was the bad girl, the negative side of the anima. In Julie’s case, she may also be considered a “femme fatale,” another common female archetype, as she represented both feminine sexuality and physical danger.

  The male hero’s encounter with a feminine figure, whether romantic or spiritual, is also an essential part of the male hero’s character development. The mythmakers intuitively understood that in order for their hero to become a fully developed character, he must integrate some feminine personality traits into his own identity. In a similar vein, most Hollywood producers insist that in order for a film to be marketable, the hero must have a viable love interest. Audiences intuitively feel that a story and character are not complete without the essential ingredient of love. After all, what is truly important in life, other than the need to love and to be loved by others? In a Freudian sense, the meeting with the goddess or temptress represents an Oedipal resolution in which the son achieves primary intimacy with the mother. The meeting is a psychological integration that recapitulates the psychosexual state of infancy, in which infant and mother are physically connected within a symbiotic relationship.

  In Star Wars, Luke’s integration of the goddess is symbolized beautifully in the rescue scene, when he clutches the beautiful princess close to his side and swings across a deep chasm to safety. In The Lord of the Rings, Aragorn encounters Arwen, an elfin princess who is a temptress as well as a spiritual goddess. In Excalibur, the goddess figure—the Lady of the Lake (Telsche Boorman)—is encountered twice. Arthur receives Excalibur from the Lady after he breaks the sword and throws it into the lake, and Perceval gives Excalibur back to the Lady as Arthur dies. In both encounters, the Lady of the Lake provides divine direction for Arthur’s journey. Meanwhile, Guenevere (Cherie Lunghi) is the emotional heart of the picture. Arthur becomes a man when he weds the beautiful temptress, Guenevere. He loses his soul when Guenevere betrays him and they become separated, but he is reborn when he forgives Guenevere and she returns Excalibur to him. Though most of the film deals with the heroic acts of Arthur, Lancelot, Merlin, Perceval and other men of action, the axes upon which the entire film turns are the two women—the temptress, Guenevere, and the goddess, the Lady of the Lake.

  Atonement

  The hero encounters his final archetype, the wise old man, when he experiences an atonement with the father. To recall Rank’s model, the climax of the hero saga occurs when the hero returns to the land of his father and claims his birthright. The atonement is when the hero confronts his father man-to-man. By confronting his father, he confronts his own identity and achieves the ultimate level of self-awareness and understanding. The stage is an “at-one-ment.” The hero becomes “at-one” with his father, thus becoming “at-one” with himself. In Campbell’s and Rank’s analyses of the hero archetype, the atonement is the peak of the hero’s journey and the grand purpose of the entire
adventure.

  Atonement itself can be achieved in many ways, depending on the story being told. The hero can actually become spiritually united with the father, as Jesus does when he dies and goes to heaven. Spiritual atonement can also occur through the death of the mentor figure. When Obi-Wan sacrifices himself to Darth Vader, he becomes “at-one” with the hero, and Luke carries his spirit inside him for the rest of his journey. The exact same theme is played out in the Lord of the Rings. When Gandalf sacrifices himself to the balrog in order to save the Fellowship, he becomes “at-one” with the hero, and Frodo carries Gandalf’s spirit with him all the way to Mordor. By sacrificing themselves to the cause, the mentor archetypes serve several functions. First, they free their own spirits so they can become spiritually united with their heroes. Second, they teach by example, showing the hero that the true nature of heroism is demonstrated through self-sacrifice. And third, they give the hero a glimpse of his destiny, showing him that by the end of his journey, he must become a willing martyr to his righteous cause.

  The atonement may also be achieved through battle. This is especially true in stories that feature an antagonistic relationship between father and son. When Oedipus encounters Laius, they engage in battle and Oedipus kills his own father. In doing so, Oedipus fulfills the prophecy of his birth and claims his birthright as king of Thebes. However, as Freud pointed out so clearly, Oedipus was tragically unaware of his own identity. By destroying his father and unwittingly wedding Jocasta, his own mother, Oedipus blindly ventures into the realm of the most ancient and detested social taboo. When the truth of his own identity is revealed to him, Oedipus prefers to remain blind to his own sins. He gouges his eyes out in a tragic act of self-loathing and shame. The lesson we learn from Oedipus is that the moment of atonement with the father must be achieved through greater self-awareness, rather than blind anger or rage.