The Deaths in Endgame - Part 1

Okay, folks, if you read the title, you know there are Endgame spoilers in this post. Consider yourself doubly warned.

I've been sitting on this post for a little while but now the time has come! I want to talk about how Endgame uses character deaths well to end character arcs. Character death is a writing topic that isn't easy; characters should be killed to further story and character development, not to add shock value. Even when they add to the story, I think they should be seriously considered because characters will likely do what they can to avoid a death, just like real people will. Deaths should be inevitable and add to the story in some meaningful way.

If you've seen Endgame you know that 2 characters die: Natasha Romanoff and Tony Stark. These characters are beloved and lots of people are upset that they're gone. However, these deaths, in my opinion, close off the arcs of these two characters well and impact the other characters in the right ways to further the story.

Let's begin with Natasha.

 
If I had to pick a word to define Natasha Romanoff, aka Black Widow's, character arc, I'd say "redemption." In the first Avengers movie we hear her say, "I have red in my ledger," a few times over, both to Loki (who she is playing for information) and also to Clint (her best friend), so we can probably trust it as true. We know she has a dark past and Clint was sent to kill her, but "made a different call" and brought her in to work for SHIELD, leading to her becoming one of the good guys and finding a family in the Avengers.

Natasha becomes the Avenger that has the most, and closest, ties with the other Avengers. We see her befriend them all, being the confidante for the rest of the team. She's the one who's there at Peggy Carter's funeral just so Steve isn't alone, despite their dispute over the Sokovia Accords. (This will be important later, so remember it.)

Okay, let's fast forward to Endgame. By this point, the Avengers have taken it hard, and Natasha especially. Five years after the snap, she's still depressed and doing everything she can to hold on to the little family she has left. She's looking for Clint, who has lost his family and gone off the deep end, murdering bad guys in vicious ways. (This is relevant later as well.) If there was any way to get everyone back, to fix this enormously red ledger (because Natasha may feel that this failure is only more she needs to correct), she'd take it. And when Scott Lang shows up with a solution, she jumps on it. In her words, she'll do "whatever it takes" to bring everyone back.

Let's talk about Clint now. He has become a dark version of himself. He's killed a lot of people, just like Natasha had, once. But she goes to find him, and bring him back, just like he did for her. The person saved becomes the savior and she goes further on Vormir.

Natasha dies on Vormir, getting the Soul Stone. We know, but the Avengers don't, that the price for the Soul Stone is a sacrifice of a person you love, a soul for a soul. In this way, it makes sense narratively that the team that goes for it is Natasha and Clint because as super SHIELD agents they're trained to handle dangerous and unknown situations and also because we the viewers would trust the love that Clint and Natasha have for each other more than we would the love between any of the other Avengers. (Their friendship is such that 1) Natasha is called "Aunt" by Clint's kids and 2) it survives Civil War when Tony and Steve's friendship did not.)

It makes sense that once there, once they know the price, Natasha would be the one to die. First, in an all-out fight between her and Clint, who do you think would win? And she does, choosing to be the one to sacrifice herself. Again, this makes sense narratively, since as the Avenger who has built up so many relationships with the others, her death would impact them way more than Clint's. But it also works thematically in her character arc.

Her arc is "redemption," remember? In Endgame, we have a Natasha who has moved away from her past to the point that she has found purpose and family in doing good. Then we have Clint, who has moved in the opposite direction. On Vormir, Clint is quick to write himself off as ruined. He's killed, he's done horrible things. He deserves to die, while Natasha deserves to live. (I acknowledge this truth; that's what adds meaning to what happens next.)

Natasha responds with, "I don't judge people by their worst mistakes." She's willing to sacrifice herself because it will save trillions, yes, but it also gives Clint another chance to redeem himself, like she did. To go back to his family and find purpose again.

If she's not judging Clint, if she finds value in him even after everything he did, that means that she has come to find value in herself.

Clint is her foil in this film; he's the one with red in his ledger, and he's ready to die as punishment to himself. He's ready for it, since he doesn't like what he has become. But if he had, his arc would have been halted: he is not at peace and is self-hating at this point. But Natasha has finished this arc; she doesn't hate herself anymore. She sees value in people who have made mistakes, including herself. Maybe seeing Clint fall (metaphorically) was enough for her to see herself in a new light and make the fall (literally) as proof as her own peace but also to "redeem" Clint from what she has also experienced.

I've heard criticism that this death was unnecessary, or that Natasha died just to further the character arcs of the other, male, Avengers. While I agree that it did affect the other characters (death is weighty, people! You can't have a death that doesn't affect the other characters. It doesn't work that way), I disagree that it was all about them. At the end of Natasha's arc, we have a Natasha who "doesn't judge people by their worst mistakes" and I think that applies to her, as well. She has found her value and purpose, and she is at peace with herself now. Her last words tell Clint to let go because "it's okay." She chose this, and it's very in character, given the circumstances, for her to choose this.

I think this death works because it marks the end of the character's arc, it exemplifies the theme of redemption (for herself, but now for someone else) that has defined Natasha's arc, and of course, because it's true to what the character would do when put in that situation. It also works narratively because of how it works on the other characters as well, but that's an idea for Part 2. This post is getting long.

So, see you next week, with a little more on dead people in Endgame.

Avengers of the Round Table

Confession time, people: I have not watched the TV show Merlin all the way through.

I stopped at the end of the fourth season. I never watched the fifth.

This realization and subsequent confession is drawn from a couple of things that happened over the weekend.

The first is that I reread the last book in Gerald Morris's The Squire's Tale series. This is an excellent middle grade series telling the stories of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. I gleefully snap up every book in the series and devour them, laughing at the sly and clever humor and enjoying the well-rounded characters and their adventures. Until I get to the last two books. Those I take off the shelf gravely, considering if I truly want to read this book, this excellent, well-written book, one more time, and then I take it home and read slower, more gravely.

These last two books are the ones about Mordred and his campaign against Arthur. We all know how it ends. If you don't, treasure your innocence. And, probably, stop reading now because centuries-old spoilers ahead.

The show Merlin ends the same way. The legends of King Arthur have a set ending, and no matter how you reimagine the characters, no matter what adventures they have, they come to the end, and it hurts.

If I don't finish the story, it didn't happen. Camelot lives and thrives, and the golden age continues. I get to relive the Green Knight and the Holy Grail without fear that all this is heading for pain and death, and a bittersweet glory in legend.

I don't react to other stories like this. Comedies, tragedies...for some reason, I can end them just fine. There's something about Arthurian legend that hurts to end. Maybe it's the way it seems too short, too pointless in the connivings that bring down a kingdom. Maybe it's the noble heroes and how they all fail, all fall, one by one. How the kingdom breaks up, and how nothing strong and glorious can last forever except as legend, where it can inspire forever. There's something tragic and grand about Arthur that I feel I need to take seriously. It's more than just a story.

Confession #2: I have only watched Infinity War Part 1 once, even though I really enjoyed it and thought it was a well-made movie.

See the similarity here? Because I sure did.

If I don't watch it, I don't have to see it. I don't have to acknowledge an ending that hurts, that costs, that's the end of a golden age. I don't have to think about what could have been.

Just like with Camelot.

From there the comparisons grow. I hesitate to compare the MCU to Camelot, because seriously, Camelot is timeless (that's the point). But I think there's an analysis to be made about our modern superheroes, and especially the MCU with their particular plot arc, being our modern-day Knights of the Round Table.

- A collection of superhumans, who can fight anyone and not fail
- People who protect the weak and fight those who hurt the weak
- A fellowship of heroes, sometimes fighting each other but also relying on their friends
- Madcap, serious, or tragic stories, the heroes rising and falling in turn, but always coming home to tell their tale
- Stand-alone tales, and team-ups welcome
- Magic and supernatural forces helping or hurting our heroes

I could keep going. But what I think matters here is the way we read these heroes. Superhuman, but human still. Flawed but capable. They're everything we want to be, and we connect with them. Boy, do we connect with them. Want fan fiction? Let me introduce you to 90% (if not, really, all) of our current King Arthur legends (Chretien de Troyes, I'm looking at you). We've written and rewritten those stories way more than comic books have retconned anything new, or than fans have rewritten plots and characters in online fan fiction.

That's what we do with a certain kind of hero. We make them, remake them, make them ours. We have our favorites, our chosen few that we admire and defend over others. They become us: our society, who we admire as heroes. They reflect our values and our greatest pride in people.

Maybe that's why it hurts so much to watch them hurt, because they are our heroes. Us. Maybe that's why it hurts to watch what once shone so brightly tarnish and diminish, as all things do.

We don't want to see that last battle, not when all these heroes we came to love and admire might not make it, not this time. We don't want that glory to end: we want it to live forever, in legend and reality, when it can only live on in legend. This is why I'm thrilled, but very nervous, about seeing Infinity War: Endgame.

I'd like to think Marvel knew what it was doing, tapping into the Arthurian narrative for its Infinity War movie arc. It certainly fits well.

Or maybe all of this is just justification for me not wanting to see my boy Peter Parker cry and die again. Who knows. But if you have any comments, arguments, or book recommendations for me, I'd love to hear them!

And if you're interested in more summary and analysis of King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table, the following videos are very good.

Silly and Serious, A Balance

It's been an interesting week. I've started teaching again, and I'm deep into two creative writing classes this semester. It's a new experience teaching a class that isn't required, aka, most of my students (if not all) actually want to be there. It makes me want to be a better teacher so they're not disappointed.

Well, I promised that I'd talk about the balance of seriousness and silliness in stories. I said it would be about middle grade stories, but I think I can apply it to lots of stories.

I'm a big fan of balance in stories. In having tender moments broken up with action, and vice-versa, and humor met with seriousness. I think they allow the readers to recover from the heavy moments, to fully understand the character development, and to have a little fun with the story, because isn't that what fiction is about?

I also think that stories that use a variety of scenes and styles can really reveal character and growth in ways that one-note stories don't.

That said, I want to say that one-note stories have their places. Some stories are best served by unending tension, or sorrow, or levity. Some stories are goofy comedies from start to finish. That's what they're meant to be, and as such, they're doing a good job.

But me, I like a balance, and today I want to talk about balancing humor with seriousness. I think Marvel does a good job with this, to the point that people have used it as a strike against DC's cinematic universe: Marvel has a good balance, overall, of humor and heavy, while DC has a history of eliminating all jokes and humor (except in things like Suicide Squad. I'm interested to see what Shazam is like).

Which can work very well in genre. Think The Dark Knight: not a funny movie. But even that one has slowed moments in action, places where we see the characters in moments of relative peace, before the mayhem starts again. A serious movie, but balanced in its own way, and there are moments of humor. Dark humor, maybe, but humor. While I might argue that Dawn of Justice doesn't know how to strike this balance.

However, one thing I appreciate about Marvel is that allowing humor allows characters to respond to stress in different ways. Captain America takes it head-on, seriously as you'd expect a leader like him to take it. But he'll joke when things are going well, and will respond to others' jokes in kind. And then there's Tony Stark, who seems to use humor as a defense mechanism.

Character is revealed, when humor is used in realistic character-driven ways. The way characters react to humorous moments also shows character. Most people aren't serious all the time; what we laugh at says a lot about us, as does why we laugh when we do.

A balance in humor can also lighten or darken moments. When everything is going wrong in Age of Ultron, and Cap cracks a joke, the audience is assured that the characters actually can pull this off. Whereas moments without humor highlight the anxiety the characters feel. I'd also like to point out Spider-Man: Homecoming and how, on the whole, it's a hilarious movie. But then there's that part where Vulture drops a building on Spidey, and there's no quip or joke then. It shows us how serious that moment is in contrast to the rest of the movie.

I don't think Marvel does this well all the time; I think Thor: Ragnarok let the silliness overwhelm the seriousness too much, which led to things feeling lighter than they should of. Really dark moments passed me by in that movie, without me feeling much, because they were lightened. Balance is important in both directions.

I've noticed that the stories I like the most have humor, used well, to lighten light moments and contrast the darker ones, while revealing character, but also have weight that shows me the stakes for the characters and why the story matters. Why it hurts the characters and what they have to lose. The Lord of the Rings. Harry Potter. Even Shakespeare manages balance, even in his saddest tragedies. Light and dark both have a place in art, and writing is no different.

I'm Back and Ready to Discuss Avengers

So, I'm emotionally compromised again.

Oh, hello! I'm back. I've been traveling abroad in England, so I wasn't able to post anything while I was gone. I had a good time, riding the rails all over the United Kingdom, but I am glad to be back. It can be tiring to be in a new city every night.

Some highlights of my trip include attending Evensong at Westminster Abbey, seeing a play at the Globe Theatre, finding a little old chocolate house in Kendal, and pretty much all of the Lake District in general.

And having my birthday in Bath and going to the Pump Room for my cake:

That was pretty great.

Anyway, like I said, I'm emotionally compromised again. Netflix just released Part 3 of Trollhunters: Tales of Arcadia and I just finished binging the new season. It's intense. And really, really good. If you're into fantasy, adventure, and kid's animated shows that are actually really serious and dark, and you haven't been watching this, you should start it up. Really well done, Netflix. Well done.

I guess it was time to get another fictional fist to the face, now that I've finally cooled down enough over Avengers: Infinity War (AAAAAAHHHH!) to blog about it. (In semi-related news, I bought a Spider-Man running shirt for my marathon. Which is this weekend, so more AAAAAHHH.)

I noticed some things in the movie that I've wanted to speak about. Now, since time has passed, I can.

Um, spoiler alert. You have been warned.

So I want to talk about Thanos. He was way, way more interesting as a villain than I was expecting.

Not that I was expecting much. I was expecting your typical Big Bad Comic Book Villain with megalomania and monologues, but lacking in motivation beyond "I'm bad and I do what I want" (no offense to Loki). That's not what we got.

The Thanos in Infinity War is mad, yes, and he is driven by motivations that don't make a lot of sense to anyone who actually values life. Which is, hopefully, everyone. But, I was interested to see a Thanos who has thought out his plan, who can explain it in a rational way, and, most importantly, sees himself as the sacrificing hero.

We haven't had this type of villain before. Think about it. In Iron Man, we have Obediah Stane, who wants to take over as CEO of Stark Industries. Greed and power are the motivators. In Captain America, we have HYDRA and the Red Skull, who are seeking ultimate power and domination. Ultron wants the complete destruction of the human race because he thinks robots and androids like himself and Vision are the future. So...power and domination, in a more computer way. And don't get me started on Star-Lord's psycho father Ego.

Helmut Zemo (the Civil War villain) and Wanda and Pietro Maximoff (before they join the Avengers) are all seeking revenge for past wrongs done to them by the Avengers. Not power, then, but vengeance. You can put Ronan the Accuser in this category, too.

And who can forget Loki, the "full-tilt diva" who wears a cape and monologues until forcibly stopped by Hulk? He's a more complicated villain, given his backstory, but he really acts the megalomaniac villain for the Avengers, seeking power and domination. A throne.

This is really the only villains the Avengers have fought: the power-mad and the vengeance-crazed. These are people who want what they want, and they'll do whatever it takes to get it. It's all about them.

Which is why I think they weren't ready for Thanos.

Thanos thinks he's the hero. He thinks the universe will thank him for annihilating half of all life so that the other half can live with more prosperity. He honestly thinks this. Yes, he's insane. But to himself, he's doing the right thing. It's not about him; it's about everyone else.

So he acts the part of the hero. He doesn't monologue or posture, and he doesn't make sure the heroes know that his actions are his fault.

Terry Pratchett, in his book Men at Arms, says this:

“Something Vimes had learned as a young guard drifted up from memory. If you have to look along the shaft of an arrow from the wrong end, if a man has you entirely at his mercy, then hope like hell that man is an evil man. Because the evil like power, power over people, and they want to see you in fear. They want you to know you're going to die. So they'll talk. They'll gloat.

They'll watch you squirm. They'll put off the moment of murder like another man will put off a good cigar.

So hope like hell your captor is an evil man. A good man will kill you with hardly a word.” 

So far, for the Avengers, this has been true: they've been fighting evil men. And that's how they treat Thanos, like another evil man. They expect the power-madness and selfishness, and that's not what they get.

Of course, Thanos is the villain. Anyone who thinks the solution to a problem is killing people is not the hero. But he behaves like one and has, to himself, heroic motivations, which is why I don't think the Avengers and Guardians were ready for him.

Gamora doesn't believe Thanos can love, so she's unprepared for when he sacrifices her as his greatest treasure. And later, Scarlet Witch tells Thanos that he can't imagine the pain she's in. The Avengers have decided that Thanos is just like their other villains, when he's really not.

Thanos, at least to himself, is a good man. And he behaves like Pratchett describes.

Thanos doesn't gloat. He comes in, takes the stone, and goes to find the next one. He doesn't wait or seem to enjoy people's suffering. He behaves like a merciful hero, although he's really not.

 
Thanos also is willing to make sacrifices for the greater good. Although it hurts him to do it, costs him "everything," he throws his daughter Gamora off a cliff, killing her for the Soul Stone. He does this not for himself, but for the universe. He doesn't want statues and monuments to his name, and he doesn't want to rule the universe. He's tired of the quest. His goal, when all of it is over, is to rest quietly on a farm.

This doesn't sound like a villain's MO. This is what a hero does. The Avengers and Guardians weren't ready for this because they have to fight someone who behaves like they do. Like a hero. And after Civil War, we can see how bad they are at fighting people who draw strength from the same things they do: determination and a belief in a higher, moral purpose.

(I'd also like to point out that Star-Lord and Thor were motivated by revenge, and because of that, Star-Lord lashed out, preventing the others from taking the gauntlet, and Thor hit Thanos in the chest, not the head, so Thanos could see who was killing him. Star-Lord and Thor's "villain" actions might have cost them all the fight.)

Infinity War was a loss for the Avengers and the Guardians, and I think it's because for the first time they had a super-powerful foe that didn't fit the villain mold in motivations and actions. They were scattered and unsure of what they were dealing with.

Now, for the second half, I am hoping that with his mission complete, Thanos has lost some of that "heroic" determination. And, with so much lost, the Avengers have redoubled theirs to set things right.