Examples of epic entertainment in our culture are about as varied as our own Ms. Kimball’s continuingly impressive collection of pez dispensers—they differ in feel and delivery, and some of them feature Chewbacca, but ultimately they all share the same essential characteristics. The Lord of the Rings, Star Wars, Indiana Jones, The Matrix, Harry Potter—all have longer-than-average story arcs, plots that boil down to a battle between good and evil, and exceptionally powerful, iconic characters. These characters, be they heroes, villains, or “other”, are what really drive their stories, so it’s fitting that we should begin to take a closer look at the concept of the hero.
I personally consider all the protagonists of those works to be heroes, based on my personal hero criteria, which are as follows:
-Heroes are not normal. They’re better than normal. Whether it’s through some inborn power (e.g. Neo in The Matrix, Luke in Star Wars), personal training or character (Indiana Jones in Indiana Jones, Aragorn in The Lord of the Rings), or some combination of the two (Bruce Willis), these people have some physical or moral strength we probably don’t—and if they start out below average, they’d sure as heck better develop some highly admirable attributes if they plan on surviving the first installment (all the hobbits). Which brings me to the second major heroic trait…
-Heroes are role models. They do the right thing when they can, no matter the odds or the consequences, and because of this we look up to them. In comparing ourselves to our heroes, we constantly evaluate the decisions they make and why they make them, and more often than not we’d like to think we’d have made the same decision in a given situation that Harrison Ford would’ve made. Be the obstacles physical, emotional, magical, or moral, a hero will, for the most part, surmount them, and we’d like that to apply to our own lives as well. Last, but definitely not least…
-Heroes are fun. We all wish we could do what they do, and to a certain extent I think we all live vicariously through their on-screen and in-print adventures. Who wouldn’t want to lift objects with his mind or single-handedly take on an army of Hugo Weaving? I know I would.
All the above listed characters meet these three heroic guidelines, which makes them heroes in my book (blog).
You may be wondering why there are no women in that list of heroes, which might naturally lead you to ask certain questions. “Could it be that Sam has cherry-picked a list of works with male heroes?” “Is there an inherent anti-female bias keeping women out of epic works?” “Can women even fit your ‘heroic criteria’?”
The answers are “no”, “no”, and “don’t be ridiculous”. The phenomena of women not appearing as heroes in modern epics can be explained as a function of human nature and capitalism. Epics today usually involve a lot of violence, often in the form of wars. The fact is, heroes in that context are usually great warriors, and men in general just like watching/consuming that sort of entertainment/art more than women. We like to connect and look up to our heroes, and men are a lot more likely to look up to someone capable of running face-first into a fight and emerging triumphant than women are, ergo more male heroes are created in order to facilitate that connection to the heavily male audience. Women still have heroes—they’re just different types of heroes, like Audrey Hepburn as Eliza Doolittle, or Julia Child, or some other dull, real-lifey thing. Now and again, there’s the exception, and a female character comes along who meets all the male requirements of a hero, and those characters are every bit as awesome as any other (you ladies have Quentin Tarantino to thank for this).
With all this fuss over heroes, one has to wonder whether we really “need” them. I find it kind of a hard question to answer, if only because I can’t really imagine a society without the concept of a “hero”. I think we always will need role models, so no matter whether or not anyone’s writing sweeping epics, people will still have their own personal heroes—we need something to work towards, because in the end that’s what a hero really is. Bertolt Brecht is on record as having said, “unhappy the land that needs heroes”; why, though? As long as there’s room for improvement within a population (or even an individual), there will always be heroes, so I think what Brecht is trying to say is that only when we have eliminated the need for heroes, i.e. our own imperfection, can we really be happy. Well, with all due respect to Berty-Bert, I think he couldn’t be more wrong; a society that doesn’t need role models is a society without sin or suffering, and not meaning any disrespect to those who’ve truly suffered, in terms of unhappiness that scenario seems second only to a society composed entirely of pain and anguish.
Without dark, the light seems irrelevant, there can be no heights if there are no depths, and if there is no need for heroes then there cannot be real happiness. So invite a couple of friends over, dig out your copy of Raiders of the Lost Ark, enjoy your culture’s heroes, and try and think what life’d be like without Indiana Jones. I think I’d cry.
--Yours always, SG
