Back in April 2020 I formulated the
term “master thread” as a perhaps less didactic substitute for
the common literary phrase “theme statement.” Therefore earlier
essays, such as February's CATEGORIES OF STRUCTURAL LENGTH PART 3,
don’t use the term, though that particular essay does mention a
“structuring principle” and its significance with the operations
of concrescence.
Had I coined the new term back at the
time of the February essay, I probably would have said something
like, “Because a hyperconcrescent symbolic dialogue requires a very
strong master thread, it’s impossible for the form termed a ‘basic
serial’ to exhibit more than a fair level of mythicity.” This
type of serial narrative—which henceforth I’ll term the “open
serial”—lacks any potential for the closure one can generally
find in the eight narrative forms discussed previously. “Closure”
in this sense refers to the closure of the discourse, symbolic or
otherwise, and has nothing to do with whether or not there currently
exist a finite number of installments in the open serial.
The open serial, as I remarked before,
can be comprised of several long or short arcs, several short
stories, or combinations thereof. It’s because the open serial
depends on a loose assemblage of sub-narratives that the overall
narrative cannot attain closure. Not that its authors want such
closure: the entire appeal of the open serial is that it gives its
audience a constant situation that either does not change at all or
changes very slowly. Open serials fall into three categories:
The Story with a Planned
Conclusion—here, though the overall narrative may include any
number of sub-narratives that don’t tie into one another, the
author intentionally designs for the narrative to end with a
culminating incident. LOVE HINA and many other manga fall into this
category. The FUGITIVE teleseries also managed to wrap up its hero’s
arc in its final season. In some cases, producers may plan for a
serial to be open-ended, but upon receiving bad reviews, the
show-runners successfully manage to wrap up a saga’s continuing arc
just before termination, as with the one-season wonder GUNS OF WILL
SONNETT.
The Story with an Accidental
Conclusion—in this category, the narrative, though designed to be
open-ended, is terminated by outside forces. Serials consisting of
unconnected short stories, like Classic STAR TREK, have no
culmination as such; they simply have a last episode. Dozens of
serial narratives have simply stopped at an arbitrary point, leaving
protagonists in mid-cliffhanger, a phenomenon I’ve frequently
observed in the first few years of DC’s early title ADVENTURE
COMICS. Up to the filming of the last episode of DARK SHADOWS, the
production team apparently didn’t know whether there would be
another season or not, so that the last episode concluded with a
tacked-on narration explaining how things finally shook out. On rare
occasions an arbitrary last episode seems to provide an accidental
summing-up. MARRIED WITH CHILDREN’s final episode just happened to
spotlight Kelly Bundy’s incredible lubricity and Bud’s eternal
victimization, certainly a recurring motif throughout the show’s
history.
The Never-Ending Story— in terms of
structure this type is identical to the Story with the Accidental
Conclusion, but this feature/franchise has existed continuously over
many generations, executed by dozens of raconteurs. Thus, though a
critic should know when the feature began, he may have no indication
as to when it might end. Certainly I expect that, whenever Superman
and Batman finally cease publication, I won’t be around to witness
it.
All of these types of open serials are
far too disorganized to maintain a master thread as such. At best—and
here I reference the setup of my essay-title—one could devise
“bachelor-threads,” which are, as per the collegiate metaphor,
not as advanced as the masters. Bachelor-threads simply codify the
most prominent story-motifs used in the open serial, but there’s no
sense that they all add up to a coherent discourse.
MARRIED WITH CHILDREN, for instance,
came close to expressing its own bachelor-thread with Al Bundy’s
comic credo, “A Bundy never wins, but a Bundy never quits.”
Still, this could use a little modification. The Bundys actually do
win a few minor conflicts, but it’s usually because they’ve
worked together. But because they feed off of fighting with one
another, the thread might read more like, “Hell is the other
members of your family.”
To segue to a serial more focused on
long arcs, I could codify the thread of LOVE HINA as, “Constantly
bothering girls (whether intentionally or not) gets you punched a
lot, but at least that way you’re bound to wind up with a
hot-looking sadist.”
Classic STAR TREK certainly lends
itself to a more profound-sounding bachelor-thread, if one renders it
as, “Humans, though advancing to the heavens with logic and reason,
forever carry with them their primitive natures, which must always be
controlled, sublimated, or, more rarely, weaponized (see “I,Mudd.”) But again, one can always find episodes that don’t
exemplify this quasi-theme, usually because some writer has chosen to
plop Captain Kirk down in a Roman arena or at the O.K. Corral.
A “never-ending story” is even
harder to break down, since its focus may change over generations. In
my essay THE MANY MYTHOI OF BATMAN, I attempted to break down the
Cowled Crusader’s career into different “creative eras,”
characterizing each era by the dominant visual and/or narrative
tropes used by the storytellers. It would be functionally impossible
to find even a single bachelor-thread that described all of the eras
together. However, in my next essay, I’ll take a shot at
formulating a bachelor-thread for the many disparate creative eras of
the Dark Knight’s career.
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