Is there an arc to the passage of time? Must a rainbow of dramatic tension connect the starting and ending points of a story? Is it absolutely necessary to provide obstacles for the protagonist to overcome? Does every tale benefit from the hero’s passage through the dark night of the soul?
Interestingly, most schools of thought, the teachers and their students, say yes. From Plato to Christopher Nolan, from the classic fable to the suspenseful thrillers of the modern streaming age, we have adopted the reality that humans are hard-wired to follow the emotion of a story as much as the actual binary and sometimes bland factual recapitulation of events. This answers the question of why narration is a vital component of any vacation slide show. What were you thinking when those gypsies asked for directions? Was your hotel central to the city or outside of town? Does it rain there all the time. How much was that pizza? What was the atmosphere, the vibe of the downtown core? Did you ever feel threatened? Was the cell service adequate? How many museums did you visit? Did you get in a bike ride?
Which, for our purposes today, all point to one observation, a question I was confronted with late last night as I, through the critical lens, watched the second master file of the completed video. The question is this:
Is a compilation of images, a combination of video and stills, spanning the globe from Islands off the coast of Africa to a former Olympic site in Norway, from Spain to Canada and from California to Australia, assembled and precisely cut to the heart-beat of classic rock n roll, jazz and blues instrumentals, and loosely bound with a thematic narrative, enough?
I have no hero other than intended audience projection of themselves in the saddle, and I ask for little emotional response other than a wow and perhaps some consideration to join in the fun, travel and ride a bike at some future point in time. There is no crime solving, no world to be saved and no boy meets girl. In other words there is no arc to the trajectory of the plight of the hero, no call to action and no third act drama. It is simply a series of takes, some in exotic locations, some local, that displays the energy, passion, skill, wanderlust and (I have never used this phrase before) daring-do of a group of people putting their commitment to a robust quality of life on display. Riding up hills, past trees and into the light of a healthy, satisfied and harmonious quest for adventure.
I think that is enough. Enough for a hour-long video presentation to the audience that will view while riding stationary bikes. This is my audience. I know them. I am trusting that they are not expecting a sequel to Breaking Way or American Flyers. They know that while we share first names I am not a Costner. I think they will forgive my renegade attitudes and creation of what amounts to a sixty-minute music video.
I do however, also feel that my understanding of their likes, dislikes, and appreciation of someone taking the time to document our passionate search for adventure and wholesome recreation, gives me a fail-safe notion of laziness. I cannot lose with this audience. They are forgiving and respectful. They, I sincerely believe, appreciate the effort.
And that makes me a lazy artist. Because I know the importance of the story. There needs to be an arc. There must be some drama, bit of danger and/or a job needing done. Our hero must face an immovable object and figure a way to remove it from the process of her quest. The protagonist needs to take a journey to find something or do something, or, as the case histories indicate and Oscar attests, a stranger must come to town.
I sit and watch the master. I like it. It is cool. It contains several pro cuts and it flows dynamically from start to finish. There is a theme and an on-going narrative, mostly pithy memes asking questions of the audience. Will you or won’t you? In this it is inspirational. That was my intent. And in that regard, too that end, it is a success.
But there isn’t a story. The sheriff does not ride into the sunset on a Palomino.
Hey wait. What a story.
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