Kasper Hviid
Sage
On the internet, exchange of opinions easily evolves into argumentation wars. As a medium, the internet breeds disagreement, gently herding us into opposing tripes. I really want to break out of this fractured world view. So I will try to tell why I think static protags can have great depth, but at the same time, I will try to avoid being too dismissive of dynamic ones.
Real people change over time. Therefore, we must accept the fact that dynamic protagonists are more realistic since they change over the course of the story. Or so goes the argument.
True, people do change over time. However, this is a slow process. It’s a bit like the movement of plants; it happens, it’s a thing, but we don’t want to watch grass grow.
For this reason, fiction exaggerates. Characters are either presented as one of the various over-the-top character arc tropes, or they are completely static. Neither choice is true to life. Both create a simplification which, while dumped down, becomes larger than life. You may not agree here, but just try running with the idea that neither protag is all that much true to life, and that they both represent different aspects of the human experience.
Let’s take a closer look at the strengths of the dynamic characters:
The dynamic character showcases the human ability to adapt and change, for better or worse, or the ability to seize a potential change and pass it by, and all this can make for some really beautiful stories. It’s pretty good for kitschy fun too, like in BRAINDEAD.
Storytelling-wise, anything that tempts the reader with something, like Dan Brown’s chapter-ending cliffhangers, or small and big mysteries that the reader is promised will be resolved, those things make a story terribly exciting. So if you put an arc in your protag, you have added an extra of those “what then” things to keep the reader turning those pages. The reader will be curious about how the protag will turn out.
And there are a lot of fun character arc tropes to choose from, on top of my head:
—Cleaning up your life (White Trash Zombie)
—Fresh off the boat (Vis a Vis)
—Downward Spiral, Redemption Arc (Bad Lieutenant, Taxi Driver)
—Coming of age, The loss of Innocence (Vis a Vis)
—Mid-life crisis, divorce
—Facing flashbackish childhood trauma (Braindead or that one by Stephen King)
The dynamic protagonist has now been respectfully introduced. Enter the static protagonist! Now, how to compare those two?
One way of looking at static and dynamic protags is to compare their different impact. In a given moment in the story, what does a static or a dynamic protag feel like for the reader?
The dynamic protag is a work in progress. We are not seeing who she is right now, we are seeing who she might become. Her potential. As a reader, we are not as much present in the moment, as we are wondering, what happens next? Who will she become?
The static protag, on the other hand, is rooted in this exact moment. She may not be perfect, but this, right here, right now, is who she is. Unlike the dynamic protag who can go arcing this way and that, the static protag has laid out her route in life, her character arc flatlining. In an oft-quoted bit from LORD OF THE RINGS, Gandalf says: “All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.” The static protags have made that decision. They have chosen their path in life, or life has chosen for them. The static protag can feel unpleasant to write because she is so permanent. There is something a bit frightening, something a bit too final, about protags who commit themselves fully to their path. The title character from THE BIG LEBOWSKI has followed the way of the hippie with stoic determination well into the nineties. A very harsh and determined life choice. It’s played for laughs, but there’s an element of tragedy beneath.
MEMORIES OF MATSUKO (2006) is a movie where ... how can I even begin to describe this one? Well, it’s a two-hour musical from Japan. One review described it as “the equivalent of being castrated with rusty scissors by Snow White”. Despite the arc in the framing device, this devastating joyride is grounded on the determination of the heroine, who follows her cursed path with eager fatalism. The movie opens with us knowing that she ends up fat, lonesome, and murdered at the age of 53. So we don’t watch it in the hope that we reach a happy ending. It’s about the trip, not the destination. What was her life like? Despite the character arc in the framing, it’s the character study of a static character who drives the movie.
FEMALE PRISONER #701: SCORPION (1972) showcases another committed woman. Beware—Spoilers ahead! This protag is in prison. Her crime: Stripping naked in front of a police station and then trying to stab a police detective to death. Said police detective was her boyfriend, who had her raped in a rather strange scheme to get a cut of the marijuana business. The majority of the movie takes place inside the prison where she endures torture and rape-seduces and mutilates her enemies with barely a word spoken, biding her time. Finally, during a riot, she escapes. She murders each of her rapists, then her ex-boyfriend. Then, she calmly allows herself to be taken back to prison; her sole reason for escaping was that being imprisoned stood in the way of her vengeance. This rock-solid determination of the protag is what sold the movie. True, the psychedelic fight scene in the showers and the lesbian rape-seduction helped too, but storywise, despite all the outrageous glamour, it is basically a story about unrelenting determination. And I think that is a good story.
I’m an atheist. As I see it, when I die, my life is over. All of it, soul gone too. Just gone. Dammit. Yet, I believe this grants me an opportunity to truly appreciate life for what it is. Every moment in my life has exactly the meaning I put into it. There is nothing, nothing at all, except life, right here and now. This is opposed by the religious world-view where the meaning of each moment is determined on how it is going to be reflected in the afterlife.
I try to inject my atheist life view into everything. This is why I love roguelikes, games where you play characters who actually die when they die. I want to play games for the experience here and now, not to “finish” a game or to create a perfect character build which just ends up gathering digital dust. Roguelikes force you to care about the present. That level 12 axe looks nice, but ... your character may not live to reach level 12.
In a similar vein, I like how static protags are grounded on what they are right here and now, instead of a promise of what they might become. Rather than the aesthetics of constant progress, the repeated promise of the new and the shiny, they have seen what life had to offer and decided on their path.
I spend way too much time being reflective. I’m not happy, I’m not happy, life isn’t what I expected it to be, how did I end up like this, is this really what’s left of life? The bad part is, it sounds just as annoying to me as it does to anyone else. But I can’t turn it off. I’m not happy, I’m not happy ...
Sometimes, when I read a novel, I want to see the world from a point of view that is less egocentric and whiny than my own. I want a hero whose story is about something other than himself, his inner journey. There is an element of narcism when the story is about the protagonist; even if the hero himself isn’t a narcissist at all, we experience him through the lens of the author.
A lot of our life is spent simply living it. Those moments where we are simply existing in the moment right here and now can have great beauty. Fiction is able to exaggerate this with the static protagonist.
Real people change over time. Therefore, we must accept the fact that dynamic protagonists are more realistic since they change over the course of the story. Or so goes the argument.
True, people do change over time. However, this is a slow process. It’s a bit like the movement of plants; it happens, it’s a thing, but we don’t want to watch grass grow.
For this reason, fiction exaggerates. Characters are either presented as one of the various over-the-top character arc tropes, or they are completely static. Neither choice is true to life. Both create a simplification which, while dumped down, becomes larger than life. You may not agree here, but just try running with the idea that neither protag is all that much true to life, and that they both represent different aspects of the human experience.
Let’s take a closer look at the strengths of the dynamic characters:
The dynamic character showcases the human ability to adapt and change, for better or worse, or the ability to seize a potential change and pass it by, and all this can make for some really beautiful stories. It’s pretty good for kitschy fun too, like in BRAINDEAD.
Storytelling-wise, anything that tempts the reader with something, like Dan Brown’s chapter-ending cliffhangers, or small and big mysteries that the reader is promised will be resolved, those things make a story terribly exciting. So if you put an arc in your protag, you have added an extra of those “what then” things to keep the reader turning those pages. The reader will be curious about how the protag will turn out.
And there are a lot of fun character arc tropes to choose from, on top of my head:
—Cleaning up your life (White Trash Zombie)
—Fresh off the boat (Vis a Vis)
—Downward Spiral, Redemption Arc (Bad Lieutenant, Taxi Driver)
—Coming of age, The loss of Innocence (Vis a Vis)
—Mid-life crisis, divorce
—Facing flashbackish childhood trauma (Braindead or that one by Stephen King)
The dynamic protagonist has now been respectfully introduced. Enter the static protagonist! Now, how to compare those two?
One way of looking at static and dynamic protags is to compare their different impact. In a given moment in the story, what does a static or a dynamic protag feel like for the reader?
The dynamic protag is a work in progress. We are not seeing who she is right now, we are seeing who she might become. Her potential. As a reader, we are not as much present in the moment, as we are wondering, what happens next? Who will she become?
The static protag, on the other hand, is rooted in this exact moment. She may not be perfect, but this, right here, right now, is who she is. Unlike the dynamic protag who can go arcing this way and that, the static protag has laid out her route in life, her character arc flatlining. In an oft-quoted bit from LORD OF THE RINGS, Gandalf says: “All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.” The static protags have made that decision. They have chosen their path in life, or life has chosen for them. The static protag can feel unpleasant to write because she is so permanent. There is something a bit frightening, something a bit too final, about protags who commit themselves fully to their path. The title character from THE BIG LEBOWSKI has followed the way of the hippie with stoic determination well into the nineties. A very harsh and determined life choice. It’s played for laughs, but there’s an element of tragedy beneath.
MEMORIES OF MATSUKO (2006) is a movie where ... how can I even begin to describe this one? Well, it’s a two-hour musical from Japan. One review described it as “the equivalent of being castrated with rusty scissors by Snow White”. Despite the arc in the framing device, this devastating joyride is grounded on the determination of the heroine, who follows her cursed path with eager fatalism. The movie opens with us knowing that she ends up fat, lonesome, and murdered at the age of 53. So we don’t watch it in the hope that we reach a happy ending. It’s about the trip, not the destination. What was her life like? Despite the character arc in the framing, it’s the character study of a static character who drives the movie.
FEMALE PRISONER #701: SCORPION (1972) showcases another committed woman. Beware—Spoilers ahead! This protag is in prison. Her crime: Stripping naked in front of a police station and then trying to stab a police detective to death. Said police detective was her boyfriend, who had her raped in a rather strange scheme to get a cut of the marijuana business. The majority of the movie takes place inside the prison where she endures torture and rape-seduces and mutilates her enemies with barely a word spoken, biding her time. Finally, during a riot, she escapes. She murders each of her rapists, then her ex-boyfriend. Then, she calmly allows herself to be taken back to prison; her sole reason for escaping was that being imprisoned stood in the way of her vengeance. This rock-solid determination of the protag is what sold the movie. True, the psychedelic fight scene in the showers and the lesbian rape-seduction helped too, but storywise, despite all the outrageous glamour, it is basically a story about unrelenting determination. And I think that is a good story.
I’m an atheist. As I see it, when I die, my life is over. All of it, soul gone too. Just gone. Dammit. Yet, I believe this grants me an opportunity to truly appreciate life for what it is. Every moment in my life has exactly the meaning I put into it. There is nothing, nothing at all, except life, right here and now. This is opposed by the religious world-view where the meaning of each moment is determined on how it is going to be reflected in the afterlife.
I try to inject my atheist life view into everything. This is why I love roguelikes, games where you play characters who actually die when they die. I want to play games for the experience here and now, not to “finish” a game or to create a perfect character build which just ends up gathering digital dust. Roguelikes force you to care about the present. That level 12 axe looks nice, but ... your character may not live to reach level 12.
In a similar vein, I like how static protags are grounded on what they are right here and now, instead of a promise of what they might become. Rather than the aesthetics of constant progress, the repeated promise of the new and the shiny, they have seen what life had to offer and decided on their path.
I spend way too much time being reflective. I’m not happy, I’m not happy, life isn’t what I expected it to be, how did I end up like this, is this really what’s left of life? The bad part is, it sounds just as annoying to me as it does to anyone else. But I can’t turn it off. I’m not happy, I’m not happy ...
Sometimes, when I read a novel, I want to see the world from a point of view that is less egocentric and whiny than my own. I want a hero whose story is about something other than himself, his inner journey. There is an element of narcism when the story is about the protagonist; even if the hero himself isn’t a narcissist at all, we experience him through the lens of the author.
A lot of our life is spent simply living it. Those moments where we are simply existing in the moment right here and now can have great beauty. Fiction is able to exaggerate this with the static protagonist.