I’ve
only devoted three essays to the concepts of interiorization and
exteriorization, but it seems to me that the concept of self-mastery
is implicit within those essays. Here I’ll attempt to extend those
nations into greater elaboration.
Interiorization
is a narrative pattern in which a character literally or figuratively
draws upon his inner resources or character in order to become a more
imposing figure, be it Doctor Jekyll unleashing his evil side or
Billy Batson summoning up an idealized adult persona. As should be
evident from these two examples, this pattern can be subcombative as
well as combative, and even the combative example, that of Captain
Marvel, requires a little further analysis. Golden Age CAPTAIN MARVEL
stories don’t overtly posit that the hero is the adult form of
Billy Batson, but the Captain seems to enjoy no existence independent
from that of Billy. Although Billy’s ability to summon his adult
self needs to be jump-started by the “Shazam-lightning,” which
confer the power of legendary characters upon the Captain, Billy’s
own self is strongly implicated in the formation of the hero, and
therefore this qualifies as a form of self-mastery.
In
contrast, I’ve cites a number of examples in which great power is
thrust upon this or that character, in such a way that no
self-mastery can be adduced. My review of SCOOBY DOO AND THE SAMURAI SCHOOL provides a pertinent. The characters of Shaggy and Scooby Doo
are meant to be much more ludicrous in nature than Billy Batson, but
all three are roughly on the same level of dynamicity. It would not
be impossible to imagine a situation in which Scooby and Shaggy
gained great martial-arts skills through the use of some improbable
crash-course. If Howard the Duck could do it, why not Scooby and
Shaggy? But the writers of SAMURAI SCHOOL may not have wanted to
diverge that far from the duo’s default characterization as lovable
goof-ups. Thus the duo get samurai-powers thrust upon them by an
outside agent, with no indication of self-mastery.
THE COURT JESTER is another film in which the release of interiorized
energies is somewhat undermined by the principal thread of the
narrative. While a spoof of the swashbuckler genre does not have to
be subcombative, JESTER sets up its main character Hubert Hawkins to
undermine that aspect of the genre. In the early scene Hawkins wants
very much to be fighting on the front lines with the courageous
resistance, headed by the vaguely paternal Black Fox. Instead,
Hawkins is relegated to protecting the infant heir to England’s
throne. Yet in a roundabout way this “maternal” activity puts him
in the position to take the identity of jester to the evil king’s
court, giving him the inside track by which the king’s forces are
eventually defeated. Hawkins’s only deeds of physical valor come
about when a witch puts a hypnosis-like spell on the jester, making
him into a wizard with a sword. Now, though this sounds like the same
process described in SAMURAI SCHOOL, the setup allows for an “out”
in terms of self-mastery. Since at the outset Hawkins admires the
heroism of the Black Fox, it’s not impossible to imagine that he
has watched sword-duels even if he never personally achieved mastery
with the blade. The witch’s spell could be seen as a jump-starting
process like that of Shazam’s lightning, unleashing hidden in the
hero abilities that he always possessed in utero. However, the script
doesn’t shoot for an integration between Hawkins’s external and
internal personas, for he loses his sword-skill when he’s snapped
out of his trance, and when Hawkins does defeat his main opponent,
it’s done through a stratagem that undercuts the swashbuckler
genre’s trope of the dazzling climactic duel.
Possibly
the most improbable representative of combative interiorization can
be found in the deservedly obscure Italian comedy BLONDE IN BLACK
LEATHER. In this very rough precursor to THELMA AND LOUISE, Claudia
Cardinale plays an abused housewife who meets a motorcycle-riding
free spirit, played by Monica Vitti. Vitti encourages the naïve
Cardinale to desert her heavy-handed husband and to embark on a
series of rambunctious adventures. During one exploit, a gang of
seven or eight gangsters surrounds the two young women, intending to
commit mayhem. Neither female has displayed any skill at fighting,
but Vitti performs a sort of “hypnosis” on Cardinale, saying
(more or less):
Your
husband beat you, didn’t he? So do what your husband did, and beat
them up!
The
resulting fight shows Cardinale, with barely any help from Vitti,
clobbering all the gangsters with basic fisticuffs. The farcical mood
is very close to that of a Bugs Bunny cartoon, where the rabbit can
pull any weapon or contrivance he wants out of thin air. BLACK
LEATHER is very close to being this type of fantasy-farce. Yet the
basic intent still seems to be that of validating the ability of
“helpless” women to kick ass if they really want to, in contrast
to JESTER, which seeks to undercut the appeal of extravagant
ass-kicking.
The
pattern of exteriorization occurs when a character creates or
empowers some other entity, or entities, to do his fighting for him.
Most robot-protagonists, ranging from Gigantor to Bozo the Iron Man,
are obvious combative manifestations of this pattern. However, in TO BREAK OR NOT TO BREAK PT. 2 I devoted a great deal of space to showing why a big fight
at the end of 1934’s BABES IN TOYLAND, between king-sized toy
soldiers and some nasty boogiemen, did not result in a combative work
of art. I did not invoke the idea of self-mastery in the essay, but I
emphasized the notion that there was no purposive connection between
the soldiers and their dimwitted creator Stannie Dum. He builds the
toy soldiers, but his achievement comes about through dumb luck, not
as a means of exteriorizing his own buried passions and/or talents.
I’ve
remarked that in the earliest extant telling of the story of Aladdin,
there’s no combat between the lazy youth and the evil lamp-swiping
magician. Disney’s version of the story gives Aladdin more
swashbuckler-like abilities, though much of the film emphasizes
romance more than action, and the conclusion depends largely on
Aladdin undoing Jafar through strategy rather than direct combat. A
more inventive, albeit forgotten, iteration was offered by 1952’s
ALADDIN AND HIS LAMP. Here as well, Aladdin is a tough sword-fighter,
so he doesn’t entirely need the genie to do all of his fighting for
him. Indeed, the script works in the idea of both “obedient genie”
and “disobedient genie.” Though the genie will grant his new
master’s wishes, the genie will also try to kill Aladdin in order
to win free from his service. Since Aladdin must be vigilant to
counter the genie’s attempts at assassination, this supernatural
creature is more like Mister Hyde than like the traditional obedient
servant of the lamp-bearer. That said, the genie ends up serving his
master through Aladdin’s self-mastery strategy. The film’s
villain manages to steal Aladdin’s lamp, but doesn’t keep his
guard up against the rebellious spirit and thus meets the doom that
could have befallen the hero.
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