Deus ex Machina: The God Button

WARNING

This post contains references and negative opinions about a popular author's choices in the design and climax of her work. Whether you are of a like mind or definitively opposed, I don't care. Do not post a comment meant to defend her against my opinions. I am using her as an example only, and besides, I won't be swayed. Thank you.

Normally, I refrain from making posts about aspects of writing, because The Recreational Writer, a dear friend of mine, has a lovely blog consisting of just such a thing - very useful, and always a good deal of fun to read. However, despite my reservations, I have come to the opinion that I need to say this, because, frankly, it's ridiculous that some writers are just so damn lazy. 

Deus ex Machina literally means "god of the machine." It was created by the Ancient Greeks and used quite often in plays. Basically, the deus ex machina occurs when everything has gone pear-shaped. Good characters have died, bad characters are wrecking havoc, tyranny and chaos reign, the world is ending, and there's nothing anyone can do. 

Behold! From the Heavens comes the gods, who clap their hands and make everything better, because they're gods - they're allowed to use their omnipotent powers to do whatever they damn please? Are you gonna be the one to complain?

As I said, extremely popular in Ancient Greek culture, because a great deal of faith was placed in gods and on religion. Over the years, the deus ex machina migrated from Greece and was used in various plays throughout the world. As centuries past, however, and the eras shifted, gods changed, or religion held less sway over people than some other ideas - science, for instance, or money), the deus ex machina was used less frequently. 

The deus ex machina has altered slightly over time, however, due to the fact that religion means less to people of the modern era as it did to the Ancient Greeks (and don't you dare argue with me, either! The Ancient Greeks built temple upon temple to their gods, praying to them, worshipping them constantly, writing play after play about their greatness. In the modern age, Christians build churches for their nameless deity, and then ask people for money when they come. They pray when they want something and forget about their god when they are content, and only country music retains the strength of character to sing praises about the one they worship - though, I'll get into religion another day).

The shift in the deus ex machina was slight, if you overlook the religious connotations. Though the name remains the same, it is not necessary that it be a god who arrives to save the day. It can be a powerful character who suddenly arrives to rescue everyone, a situation that stops all dangers flat but which was otherwise not built into the plot previously in such a way to lead to this, or other failsafe options that amount to basically a cheat code to perfection. 

And for the most part, deus ex machina does end up looking like nothing more than a cheat code. There are a few exceptions, however. The one in particular that I have always recalled with relative ease was the ending of the movie Dogma. The deus ex machina was used here as a modern translation of the original idea - the god arrived and literally cleaned up the problem. It worked for two reasons: the first, the movie was based on religious lore and the existence of a god, which set the whole movie up, from the very beginning, to end in exactly the way it did. The second reason it worked: The movie was a comedy. It was supposed to be ridiculous - a demon gets exorcised because he's struck with a golf club blessed by an arrogant priest! The deus ex machina at the end of this movie was the icing on top of the proverbial cake - the cherry of ludicrosity that topped a sundae of stupidity.

The fact that they made it work in Dogma was lovely, because despite the fact that most people won't recognize the deus ex machina when they see it, it's nice to see when it's done well. The past and the effects of an ancient culture should not be forgotten, but returned to cautiously, and enjoyed.

Unfortunately, the deus ex machina is occasionally returned to in a manner that is ineffective for one basic reason: it's used to avoid having to do actual work.

The prime example: Stephanie Meyers Twilight series.

Now, mind you, I loved the first three books of the series. I had characters I liked, characters I hated, there were parts where I laughed, sympathized, and outright bawled, and it was the best. I was thoroughly excited to read Breaking Dawn, because the final book of a series is supposed to wrap everything up, finish it all off, answer all questions and be the best of them, if slightly less-awesome than the first on principle. And then, in the middle of the book, Meyers pulled a deus ex machina to save her from having to disappoint a character.

SPOILER ALERT

A multitude of things were consistent within the books up to a point. Bella was worried about growing physically older than Edward, Edward was worried about not having a soul and damning Bella by biting her, Edward and Jacob both loved Bella, and Bella loved both of them. And the werewolf pack was just waiting for an excuse to kill the entire Cullen Clan - Jacob would have his when Edward bit Bella, and Sam and the rest would have theirs when the half-vampire, half-human hybrid child was born.

The final book of the series cleared up a lot of these for us. Bella was bitten by Edward, turning her into a vampire and solving the problem of her aging. This also stopped any complaints Edward would have about her losing her soul, because he bit her, and he can't time travel. Edward and Jacob both fought for Bella's attention and, though she loved them both, she made her choice and was bitten by Edward. She also had her hybrid baby and, now that Jacob could no longer have Bella, he turns his attention to killing the baby, as the rest of the pack plans to, since this creature is dangerous. 

And then Jacob realizes that the baby is meant to be his life-mate.

This solves the problem of him wanting to kill the baby, because he's bonded with her now. 

It stops the werewolf pack from killing her, because that would go against the way they do things - they won't kill the creature another wolf is bonded to.

It also makes certain that Jacob won't pine for Bella, because he's bonded now. 

It stops the animosity Jacob had for the vampires, because he's bonded to a half-vampire, whose family is a family of vampires. 

All problems are solved, the world is a wonderful place to live in, and everyone gets to live happily ever after. 

Art is an imitation of life. It's a well-known, oft-stated thing. Life, imitates art, imitates life. For those of you who have yet to realize this, allow me to spare you the shock and horror of an otherwise shitty-ass realization: life is not perfect. Life is not sunshine, daisies, and happily-ever-afters. Disney lied, darling. Not even the original fairytales ended on a happy note. People died. A lot. They usually do. 

Writers often write for entertainment, yes. However, because they're giving their worlds to others to leap into, they must be certain to make sure that their readers accept the rules of this world. In the world of Twilight, lots of humans were killed by vampires, then lots of vampires were killed by other vampires and a few werewolves. Then, a creature who is basically undead is still able to mate, despite the fact that hormones and certain plumbing shouldn't be functional after 400 years! But okay, I'll bite. Vampires can mate, despite being frozen corpses. Werewolves can tear vampires limb from limb. Vampires are like statues - cold and brick. Lots of people die throughout the books, all the time. 

But the main characters never die. They're also going to be perfectly happy at the end of the book, because no one wants a sad character. 

Except we do. 

Reality is harsh. Ignoring that, pretending that everything can turn out fine, is ridiculous. Pressing the God Button is cheating. The deus ex machina is a technique rarely used because it's abused. It ruins a story. 

In a Twilight tale that refused the deus ex machina, Jacob would have had to make a choice. Would it have been a hard one, yes! But it would have mattered because it was hard. It would have mattered to the readers that he made this choice, because they have to make hard choices everyday in their life. 

Instead, life hands him a get out of jail free card. He gets to fall in love, and suddenly everything is perfect. How lovely for Jacob. Too bad it's a slap in the face to the readers that Jacob might be able to get out of having to live a real life and suffer, and reminds them that life sucks. 

So, basic rule of writing: The deus ex machina is a form of cheating. 

Unless you can pull it off, suggest it from the beginning so subtly that people will reach the end and be able to look back and go "holy fuck, that's awesome, it was planned from the start!", DON'T USE IT! Don't ruin a perfectly good story, because you want an ending where everyone is happy. People in real life have to make hard choices. Characters in stories have to make hard choices, because they're trying to look as real as characters in real life. The writer has to get off of her ass and make the hard choice, too. You want your story to go down in history along with King Lear and Beowulf and To Kill a Mockingbird? Work for it, fight for it, and bleed for it, all over the page. Hurt, and let your characters hurt, because real people hurt, and the characters are real.

Memory

“A place in thy memory, dearest,

Is all that I claim;

To pause and look back when thou hearest

The sound of my name”

- Gerald Griffin

WARNING

This post contains some references to popular culture and may contain spoilers and/or opinions about such areas. 

It’s funny, the things that our minds choose to pick up and carry with us. Sometimes, it can be terrifying, to find that a particular incident leaves its mark upon our souls – a dark memory that haunts us as well as any ghost. Still, our memory banks may also be stocked with those happy memories; the first time you held your baby cousin, though she’s all grown up now, or the shriek and spontaneous hug that a friend gives you when she sees exactly what you got her as a gift. These are the things we carry with us, wrapped up in our minds and hearts – the good, the bad, and the unforgettable.

Books and movies leave their marks upon us in the same manner that true life does. The truly remarkable thing about such media is, however, that it isn’t our own actions or interferences that remain in our minds, but those of characters who do not exist. Greater still is the fact that sometimes, the most powerful of memories are those that come from the utterance of a single word.

Twilight.

Before Stephanie Meyers released her book, this word brought up two different thoughts. The first was the ubiquitous (for me) pondering of what time, exactly, defines twilight. The other was the episode of NCIS, where Kate dies. Now, Stephanie Meyers has released her series by such a title, and popular culture being what it is, no one is allowed to forget that Twilight means Bella and Edward, and the modern epitome of the dues ex machina, goddamn Breaking Dawn.

Clarence.

I’ve never heard this name used by anyone other than the angel we all know and love. It’s a Wonderful Life was a great movie, and the name Clarence never ceases to bring to mind frozen rivers and jingling bells.

“Khaaaan!”

Captain James T. Kirk of the U.S.S. Enterprise, played by William Shatner in the original Star Trek series, will be known by Trekkies for an eternity of memory for screaming this name to the heavens. Funny, how a single word can bring so many images of the good captain and his crew to mind.

Sometimes the words we recall from these movies or books bring the following phrases right to mind. Much like the amusing, if somewhat annoying, commercial for Red Robin (yum!).

Casper. (“The friendly ghost!”)

Rudolph. (“The red-nosed reindeer.”)

Frankly, my dear. (“I don’t give a damn.”)

Back! (“To the future!”)

Memory is a funny thing, and the lines and images that stick with us from movies and books are truly amazing. In a way, it’s just one more occasion where art is imitating life, and an artist can only hope that whatever they create with their hands – be it a sculpture, painting, or a book – someone, somewhere, will hear a word, and remember.

~ Wandering (“Muse”)