Mommie Dearest
It has occurred to me that some areas of human experience are hot-button issues for people... writers and non-writers alike. (That's right, there are two kinds of people in the world...) One is motherhood.
I've been thinking about this because I have a script I want to write (once I'm "done" with my ever-growing to-write list) that revolves around a mother who sometimes really can't stand her kids. She loves them, but Lord, does she sometimes want to kill them. (It's a comedy; think of Jane Kaczmarek in Malcolm in the Middle.) I've had some friends who are parents weigh in on the story, which is admittedly at a very early stage... and there seems to be some reluctance about this mother character. I'm kind of getting that many moms won't buy my mother character because she's just not authentic enough. Not loving enough. Not all-consumingly, self-sacrificingly devoted enough. This is such a tough area; how can I, a non-mom (there are two kinds of people in this world...) write a convincing mother? How can I know what it means to experience a love like motherhood?
I haven't figured it out yet. Or even if it's going to be a problem (I'm really still in the "What's the essential premise?" phase). But I have to say, sometimes, even as a non-mom, I see a mother on screen and want to call bullshit.
Case in point: Padme Amidala's expiration of a broken heart in Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith.
I know. She loved the dude. She loved him more than anyone in the universe has loved another person. And he betrayed her, and all the people she's ever cared about, and chose the dark side. And oh, by the way, she thinks he's dead.
Her heart is broken. No doubt.
Meanwhile, she has just given birth to twins. Two babies borne of this great, cosmic love. Two babies with her dude's DNA, his face, his deep-down goodness. Her children.
She names them, and dies.
WTF?
Maybe you want to stick around and honour the memory of your great love by raising your/his kids to be loving, wonderful people who will do good in this world, rather than, I don't know, leaving 'em in the hands of whoever'll take 'em?
I don't think anyone can possibly believe this particular example of motherhood. This choice just screams "the character has to die because 25 years ago I wrote the ending, and she's totally dead".
Anakin, as he wakes in his shiny-new Vader suit, asks after Padme. He's told that he himself killed her. I kind of wish he had.
I've been thinking about this because I have a script I want to write (once I'm "done" with my ever-growing to-write list) that revolves around a mother who sometimes really can't stand her kids. She loves them, but Lord, does she sometimes want to kill them. (It's a comedy; think of Jane Kaczmarek in Malcolm in the Middle.) I've had some friends who are parents weigh in on the story, which is admittedly at a very early stage... and there seems to be some reluctance about this mother character. I'm kind of getting that many moms won't buy my mother character because she's just not authentic enough. Not loving enough. Not all-consumingly, self-sacrificingly devoted enough. This is such a tough area; how can I, a non-mom (there are two kinds of people in this world...) write a convincing mother? How can I know what it means to experience a love like motherhood?
I haven't figured it out yet. Or even if it's going to be a problem (I'm really still in the "What's the essential premise?" phase). But I have to say, sometimes, even as a non-mom, I see a mother on screen and want to call bullshit.
Case in point: Padme Amidala's expiration of a broken heart in Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith.
I know. She loved the dude. She loved him more than anyone in the universe has loved another person. And he betrayed her, and all the people she's ever cared about, and chose the dark side. And oh, by the way, she thinks he's dead.
Her heart is broken. No doubt.
Meanwhile, she has just given birth to twins. Two babies borne of this great, cosmic love. Two babies with her dude's DNA, his face, his deep-down goodness. Her children.
She names them, and dies.
WTF?
Maybe you want to stick around and honour the memory of your great love by raising your/his kids to be loving, wonderful people who will do good in this world, rather than, I don't know, leaving 'em in the hands of whoever'll take 'em?
I don't think anyone can possibly believe this particular example of motherhood. This choice just screams "the character has to die because 25 years ago I wrote the ending, and she's totally dead".
Anakin, as he wakes in his shiny-new Vader suit, asks after Padme. He's told that he himself killed her. I kind of wish he had.
Labels: character, credibility
posted by Jennica at 8:20 p.m.
3 comments
