( A Movie, A Show, A Lesson )

Disclaimer: I hated Django and loved the Three Little Pigs. But that is personally. What is about to happen right now is not at all personal.

I’ve been calling myself a writer for years. And I’ve been putting the truth behind my words for the same number of years. What I’ve seldom, if ever done, is write about writing. But a decision taken in a weak moment allows for me to write about writing when the mood takes me. I'm taken by the mood and it’s got me good. Recently, I watched Django: Unchained and The Three Little Pigs. One was a movie. The other, a stage production. Might both have been a satire? I do not know. The Three Little Pigs was. Django was... something else. One was the twisted product of Tarantino mind and the other was a grim take on a story I have known since I was knee high to a grasshopper. Two completely, completely different stories. And yet, in a way I had not anticipated until I gave some thought to what was bothering me about both, they are similar and will both serve to illustrate the point I’m trying to make.

First, some observations.

I sometimes feel uncomfortable about movies that bring attention to a contentious and sensitive issue - they often glamourise what it was really about, which lends an air of exaggeration and under appreciation for what they are addressing. There have been many a discussion out there on the internets about Django and its many implications, imperfections and impressions. Which means that somewhere along the line, Quentin Tarantino did something right - his message is out there. Whether you agree or disagree is hardly the issue here. A story is a vehicle for a deeper meaning, a bigger purpose... a point. Whatever you feel about that point, it’s definitely been made. You hear, loud and clear, a message.

It is therefore unfortunate that the vehicle that message came in on was beaten up and a little bit rundown. The story of Django - the this event and then that event, then he said, then she said - all of that lets the message down. It’s a powerful message that should have had a powerful story, but ended up with a weak plot full of holes. The dialogue was uncomfortable. The story made no sense, and seemed needlessly excessive (violence and evil has its place, but only within a story). It made little use of great characters and the very weakness of the story overshadowed some excellent performances. It wasn't cohesive, even for Tarantino, who manages to thread a story through his madness. Not here. Django, the story, was downright bad and needs a whole lot more work to be the right kind of story for the message it delivers.

And on the other hand...

The Three Little Pigs is a very important piece of work. I have long lamented the satire in South Africa, finding it lazy and without the character good satire requires. There are a few exceptions, but the beautiful tragedy of exceptions is that there aren't many. The Three Little Pigs was an excellent story and restores my faith in satire. It was a fresh, wickedly thoughtful take on a tale that’s been told for decades. Its characters were compelling, fitting the tone and mood of the narrative to the (very much required) point that you forget they are actors and see just what they want you to see. The telling was cohesive and the mockery completely on point. The story allowed for the fantastic performances to shine, and tell it like it should be told.

In this case, it was the message that let the story down. I have long believed that in communication, simplicity is absolutely key. Never more so than your message. Your words can be whatever they want to be (okay, they can’t, but that’s for another blogpost), with grammatic layers and linguistic artistry. But your message can only be simple. In simplicity lies the stuff that makes your message relative. The message in The Three Little Pigs was present, but it was vague and a bit incoherent. It’s the downfall of comedy everywhere, in South Africa: you either try to address everything at once, or you focus on race. Three Little Pigs was not about race, and it lost its focus. It tried to do everything at once, to shine a light on all the issues that we should laugh knowingly at. There is so much scope for message in South African satire, and no need for hurrying; the focus can be singular, and the message relevant, strong and as powerful as the story it rode in on.

As I said in the beginning, I have far more time for The Three Little Pigs than I do for Django: Unchained. But as a writer, they both presented me with the same lesson. Story and message carry one another and like a good relationship, they cannot succeed alone. The two must match and compliment, must enrich the entire experience and work together. They must both succeed, because the result of that is something truly astounding. I try to remember that when I write, when I feel the urge to push the message as hard as I can, to the detriment of the characters and the essential story that I am ultimately trying to tell. But I also remember that a message, a clear and defined point, can make a story more than a list of events strung together by dialogue. It becomes, unequivocally, the stone in the pond that causes all the ripples.