For our inaugural post, I thought it would be appropriate to examine the concept of the "origin story". For some, revealing a beloved character's backstory will induce and sustain a raging nerd-on long enough to require medical attention, but the same revelation will send others into bile-fueled fits of geek-on-geek violence. It is impossible to predict which devotees will react in which way, but they never fail to turn against each other at the drop of the word "prequel".
Origin stories are the leading cause of message board bloodshed, but it's something the nerd brain craves. Any Star Wars fan who claims they weren't fully erect when they heard George Lucas announce that he was going to make the prequel trilogy is a filthy, disgusting liar. After 20+ years of speculating based on information provided by the original films, what could be better than a brand new trilogy chronicling the rise of the most iconic villain in the history of cinema? Greatest idea ever, right guys...?
As it turns out, no. Millions of nerds who would have taken a bullet for Mr. Lucas in 1998 were assembling their sniper rifles on the outskirts of Skywalker Ranch by the autumn of '99. But why? Isn't this what we wanted? And if not, than what did we want? Considering that this old and distant galaxy we so loved comes entirely from the mind of Darth Fat-Neck (the former Master George), who are we to say that Episodes I-III aren't as legitimate as IV-VI?
But regardless of it's legitimacy, the Anakin debacle led many critics and aficionados to conclude that origin stories are best left untold. Anything that can't be said in a few lines of expository dialogue is indulgent and monotonous. There are many examples to support this claim. Michael Myers (Halloween) was infinitely more terrifying before the remake let us in on his traumatic beginnings. The intentional ambiguity of the Joker's origins in The Dark Knight turned a violent looney tune into a chaotic force of nature. Characters that aren't meant to be identified with on a personal level usually benefit from the assumption that they simply materialized, fully-formed and raising hell.
While I cannot deny that the arguments against exploring a character's history are spot-on, for the most part, I am always excited by the idea of an origin story. I like seeing Bruce Wayne work through the issues that culminate in his decision to don cape and cowl. I sqeed in girlish delight when I read about Severus Snape's secret longing for Lily Potter. And I LOVE Lost, largely because of it's dedication to fleshing out every character's past.
A well-told origin story transforms a fictional character into a relatable human being, even if they have super powers. So when you find yourself complaining 30 minutes into the next Spiderman movie because he hasn't yet slipped on his trademark spandex, try to remember that there's a confused teenager behind those web-shooters. He's going through some serious shit right now! (spider-bites, sticky hands, pretty girls, bullies, etc.) How do you think he feels?
Origin stories are the leading cause of message board bloodshed, but it's something the nerd brain craves. Any Star Wars fan who claims they weren't fully erect when they heard George Lucas announce that he was going to make the prequel trilogy is a filthy, disgusting liar. After 20+ years of speculating based on information provided by the original films, what could be better than a brand new trilogy chronicling the rise of the most iconic villain in the history of cinema? Greatest idea ever, right guys...?
But regardless of it's legitimacy, the Anakin debacle led many critics and aficionados to conclude that origin stories are best left untold. Anything that can't be said in a few lines of expository dialogue is indulgent and monotonous. There are many examples to support this claim. Michael Myers (Halloween) was infinitely more terrifying before the remake let us in on his traumatic beginnings. The intentional ambiguity of the Joker's origins in The Dark Knight turned a violent looney tune into a chaotic force of nature. Characters that aren't meant to be identified with on a personal level usually benefit from the assumption that they simply materialized, fully-formed and raising hell.
While I cannot deny that the arguments against exploring a character's history are spot-on, for the most part, I am always excited by the idea of an origin story. I like seeing Bruce Wayne work through the issues that culminate in his decision to don cape and cowl. I sqeed in girlish delight when I read about Severus Snape's secret longing for Lily Potter. And I LOVE Lost, largely because of it's dedication to fleshing out every character's past.
A well-told origin story transforms a fictional character into a relatable human being, even if they have super powers. So when you find yourself complaining 30 minutes into the next Spiderman movie because he hasn't yet slipped on his trademark spandex, try to remember that there's a confused teenager behind those web-shooters. He's going through some serious shit right now! (spider-bites, sticky hands, pretty girls, bullies, etc.) How do you think he feels?
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