The Writer's Journey

by Christopher Vogler

  Titanic plays on fears that have a high degree of identification for the audience — the universal fear of heights, fear of being trapped and imprisoned, fear of drowning in a bottomless sea, fear of fire and explosion, fear of loneliness and isolation.

  The movie offers an imaginable horror. It could happen to anyone. Since it provides a complete spectrum of the society of its time, any viewer can find an identity there, as a well-off member of the ruling class, as a worker, as an immigrant, as a dreamer, as a lover. And we can appreciate the truth that certain inexorable forces — nature, death, physics, fate, accident — affect all of us, across the spectrum without exception. For a while the human story is reduced to one archetype — the Victim.

  Titanic is a coherent design in part because it observes the unities of time, place, and theme. The confinement of the central story to the time from the Titanic's sailing to her death concentrates the dramatic energy. This concentration intensifies in the second half of the film which follows the surging events in real time, moment by moment. Confining the action to one place, the world of the ship alone at sea, makes it into a microcosm of life. It is an island of life in a dead sea, just as this island Earth is adrift in an ocean of space. And the ideas and arguments of Titanic are woven into a coherent design by concentrating on a single theme — that love liberates us and transcends death.

  Cameron casts his arms wide in beckoning the audience to identify with his story. There's room enough on that ship for all of us. We can all identify with touches like the Turk who, while the boat sinks, frantically tries to read a corridor sign with a Turkish-English dictionary. We are all strangers somewhere. We're all in the same boat.

  The movie is cast to appeal to a broad range of age groups. The young have the youthful love story to relate to, the old are invited to identify with Old Rose, who is still lively and active, and the baby-boomer generation is represented by the scientist-explorer and Rose's granddaughter.

  The movie is not quite universal in that you don't see black or Asian faces. Certainly the slave experience is mentioned as a metaphor of Rose's emotional captivity, although here is where metaphor breaks down — Rose's pampered life is hardly the same as the Middle Passage in the bowels of the Amistad. However, the symbols of Titanic seem broad enough that almost everyone around the world can find something of themselves in it.

  Where Cameron is most successful is as a visual and emotional poet. Titanic is a tapestry, a weaving of plots and threads. He finds poetry in braiding together the big story and the little story. He articulates connections very well, connections between the little story of Lovett and the big story of Old Rose's colorful life, between the little story of Jack and Rose and the big story of the Titanic, which is in turn part of the bigger story of the 20th century.

  He organizes all this connection by finding a SYMBOL to concentrate and focus it, the narrow eye of a needle to pass all the threads through. "The Heart of the Ocean," connecting in its name the threads of romance and the sea, is a metaphor tying together all the plot lines, making them into a coherent design. (Cameron uses a wedding band to similar purpose in The Abyss.)

  The jewel has a European pedigree, was once a crown jewel of the ill-fated Louis XVI, and makes a good symbol of the treasure of European experience and wisdom, art and beauty, but also class warfare and bloodshed.

  Old Rose's action of tossing away the diamond at the end is a powerful poetic image that brings all the plot threads together for a real DENOUEMENT, an untying of all the knots and a smooth finish for all the plot threads. Lovett doesn't get the treasure but has a shot at love, Cal is thwarted and doesn't get Rose's heart or the diamond, Old Rose has kept her secret and now returns it to the sea. It was something private between her and Jack, hers to withhold all these years, hers to give back now.

  The audience feels the material value of the stone — it's still a shock to see something worth so much money tossed away — but by that shock the whole experience of Titanic is concentrated into a symbol of fading memory. The emotions, the unconscious materials stirred up by the movie can recede to their proper place, though the memory will linger. As the stone spins away, we see how the filmmaker wants us to regard the Titanic. Let it remain where it is, a mystery and a monument to the human tragedy.

  Old Rose, like every hero returning from a journey to the unconscious, had a choice to face. Do I scream and shout about my elixir, try to exploit it or evangelize about it? Or do I simply go about the business of my life, letting what I have learned radiate out from me and inevitably change, revive, rejuvenate those around me, and then the whole world? Do I choose an outer or an inner path to express my elixir? Obviously, Rose took the latter path, containing and internalizing the treasure from the special world, a poetic lesson taught by the Celtic tales, where heroes who come back and brag about their adventures in the Underworld find nothing but seaweed where they thought they'd collected fairy treasure. But the rare one, like Rose, keeps the fairies' secrets and lives a long and happy life.

  James Cameron honors his Celtic ancestors with the folk music that plays below decks and whenever emotion surges. It makes a strong contrast with the courtly European dance and church music played in first class, and contributes to the poetic feeling. This is the epic telling of the Titanic by a Celtic bard, accompanied by pipes and harps as in days of yore.

  This is supported by visual poetry and structural connectedness like the serpentine braiding of a Celtic graphic design. Simple polarities, bow and stern, above decks and below, first class and third, light and dark, give strong symmetrical axes for an almost mathematical composition. Cameron's design offers a number of poetic metaphors — the boat as a model of the world, the diamond as a symbol of value and love, the clock as a symbol of fleeting time, the angel statue on the main staircase as an image of Rose s innocence. In the broad strokes of a pop song, the movie provides metaphors against which the audience can compare themselves, a set of tools for interpreting their own lives.

  Finally, CATHARSIS is the elixir this movie provides, the healthy purging of emotions that Aristotle identified and that audiences still want above anything. People rewarded this story for giving them the rare chance to feel something. We are well defended against emotion, and the movie hammers away with shocking effects and strong sentiments until even the most jaded and guarded must feel some reaction, some release of tension. Shots of panicking passengers fighting for lifeboat spaces, of Jack and Rose battling to survive, and of terrified victims falling to their horrid deaths bring the tension to an almost unbearable pitch, and yet there must be something rewarding and satisfying about this, for people stayed in their seats and many returned for multiple viewings. They couldn't get enough of the emotions released by this film. It gives the chance for a shudder of horror and a good cry, valuable sensations in any age.

  The audience witnessing this spectacle goes through an ordeal along with the characters. Joseph Campbell used to say that the purpose of ritual is to wear you out, to grind down your defenses so that you fall open to the transcendent experience. Wearing you out seems to be part of Titanic's strategy, making you feel something of what the passengers felt by immersing you in the Titanic world for so long.

  In this cynical, jaded time, it takes courage to be so nakedly emotional, for both the filmmaker and the audience. Movies like Titanic, The English Patient, Braveheart, Dances with Wolves, and Glory are taking a big risk in being sentimental on a grand scale. The darkness of the theatre offers the audience some protection — they can cry silently and few will witness their emotional vulnerability. But the filmmakers must expose emotions in public, under the full light of a cynical society, and deserve some respect for this act of courage.

  IN THE WAKE OF TITANIC

  What will be the long-term effect of Titanic on the movie industry? Its success shows that the big gamble sometimes pays off Big production values generally do pay off in the long run — even Cleopatra, the film that nearly sank 20th Century Fox in the 1960
s, eventually made back its production costs and is now a jewel in the company crown. Titanic turned a profit quickly, and its success will undoubtedly encourage others to spend big in hopes of hitting the same kind of jackpot.

  In the short run, however, some executives responded by setting tight limits on their budgets. Although the Fox and Paramount executives had won the gamble, they didn't enjoy the suspenseful period before the film opened, and they didn't want to sweat like that again. Of course they reserve the option of making Titanic-sized exceptions now and then if all the key executives in the company are agreed that its worth the risk on a specific project.

  In all likelihood, other films will be made on the scale of Titanic and even greater quantum levels will be reached. There will always be an audience for spectacle, especially when it moves many of us emotionally. On the other hand, small-budget films at the opposite end of the spectrum can be more profitable in relation to their cost. The major Hollywood studios are learning from the example of independent filmmakers, developing lower-budget films for carefully targeted, specialized audiences, to keep profit flowing while they gamble on the big ones.

  It's likely also that filmmakers will be influenced by Cameron's choice to build his script around a young love story, which is widely regarded as a significant factor in the film's success. It's becoming a rule of thumb in Hollywood that an expensive period piece has a better chance if it features a romantic melodrama, preferably with young lovers to make it inviting for the core of the moviegoing audience.

  Some critics worry that the weaknesses of the script will become institutionalized because Titanic made so much money, and that future writers will be forced to "dumb down" their scripts to appeal to the mass audience needed to offset the big budgets. That would certainly be nothing new; studios and producers have always argued for broader appeal in expensive productions. But maybe there's another scenario, in which audiences thirst for more sophistication and reward filmmakers who try harder to make their stories both more intelligent and more emotionally universal.

  SYNERGY

  James Cameron has spoken of a certain synergy that operated with Titanic, a combination of elements that somehow adds up to more than the sum of its parts. Just as certain combinations of chemical elements sometimes produce unexpected powers and capacities, so the elements of acting, sets, costumes, music, effects, story, context, the needs of the audience, and the skills of the artists combined into a mysterious, organic whole which has an emotional and transformative power greater than the sum of the individual parts.

  Part of that synergy is the use of the motifs and archetypes of the Hero's Journey, such as tests, crossings, ordeals, suspense, death, rebirth, rescues, escapes, chases, sacred marriages, etc. These devices give the audience reference points in the long story and contribute to making it a coherent design, directed to maximum cathartic effect. In the tradition of the Hero's Journey, Titanic explores death but makes the case for the full embrace of life.

  Ultimately the success of the film is a mystery — a secret compact between the audience and the story. Like the men in the mini-sub we can shine some light on this mystery, but in the end we must simply withdraw and wonder.

  THE LION KING AND OTHER PROBLEMS

  In the summer of 1992 I was asked by the executives at Disney Feature Animation to review story materials on a project called "King of the Jungle." It came to be known as The Lion King and eventually turned into the most successful animated film Disney had done so far, but at the time it was just another opportunity to use the tools of the Hero's Journey on story problems.

  As I drove to "animation country" in an anonymous industrial district of Glendale, California, I recalled what I knew of the project so far. This was an unusual undertaking, a departure from the Disney tradition of adapting popular children's literature or classics. For the first time it was an original story idea, cooked up by Jeffrey Katzenberg and his team of young animators on the company jet. They were on a flight back from New York where they had just previewed their latest work, Beauty and the Beast.

  Katzenberg, a recent and enthusiastic convert to animation, engaged the animators in a discussion of the moment when they first felt the stirrings of adulthood. He related his own moment of feeling he had become a man, and they all realized it was an interesting thing to make a movie about. They began discussing formats and settings that could support such a story, and eventually hit on the idea of doing it entirely in the world of African animals. Disney had not done an exclusively animal-driven animated feature since Bambi in 1942, so it seemed fresh and also could play on the public's fondness for nature shows. It would avoid some of the problems of animating humans. To animate a human character you have to represent a particular ethnic group and choose certain hair and skin colors, which may prevent audience members with different features from fully identifying with the character. Much of this limitation is swept away with the use of animals, where human concerns about race and genetics are less relevant.

  A father-and-son story was developed by borrowing inspiration from Hamlet. Katzenberg liked to bolster animation stories with plot elements from several sources so that a treatment for The Odyssey or Huckleberry Finn might be woven together with themes and structure from It Happened One Night or 48 Hours. The Lion King had elements of Bambi but was made richer and more complex by weaving in some Hamlet plot elements. These included a jealous uncle who bumps off the hero's father and unjustly assumes the throne, and an unready young hero who gradually gathers his will and strikes back.

  One of my first assignments, after having read the "King of the Jungle" treatment, was to read Hamlet carefully and draw out elements we could use in our script. I did a Hero's Journey analysis of the Hamlet plot to illustrate its turning points and movements, and then listed many of its memorable lines which the writers could use to playfully evoke the Shakespearean connection. The Disney animated films were conceived to work for all levels of the audience, with physical gags for the youngest kids, irreverent verbal wit and action for teenagers, and sophisticated inside jokes for the adults. Some of Shakespeare entered the script, especially through the character of Scar, the villain, voiced by the English actor Jeremy Irons. He delivered twisted Hamlet references in droll and ironic fashion, with a knowing wink to the grown-up audience.

  Arriving at the Disney animation complex, I entered the special world of what would become The Lion King. Every animator's cubicle was plastered with photos and drawings of African life and several of the staff had made photo safari trips to Africa to gather inspiration. Storyboards were set up in the theatre and I sat down with the animators and designers to see the latest presentation by the directors, Rob Minkoff and Roger Ailers.

  Here was an opportunity to test some of the Hero's Journey ideas on a major project. I was one of literally hundreds of people giving their opinions on the story, but for a moment I had a chance to influence the final product by my reactions and arguments. I took notes as the animators unfolded the story that was to become The Lion King.

  To the rhythms of "The Circle of Life," the African animals gather to honor the birth of a young lion, Simba, whose father is Mufasa, ruler of the region around Pride Rock. One guest at the gathering is a strange old baboon, Rafiki, who is chased away by the King's advisor, a fussy bird named Zazu. Simba grows into a sassy young cub who sings "L Just Can't Wait to be King." Disobeying his father, he sneaks off to explore the spooky Elephant's Graveyard with his young lioness playmate Nala, and there they are terrorized by two comically scary Jackals, servants of Mufasa's jealous brother Scar. Mufasa rescues them but sternly rebukes Simba for disobeying him.

  Simba is just beginning to learn the lessons of kingship from his father when Mufasa is cruelly killed in an antelope stampede, thanks to Scar's underhanded trickery. Scar makes Simba think he caused his own father's death, and Simba, fearing Scar will kill him, escapes across the desert like Hamlet leaving the court of Denmark after his uncle killed his father.

 
In Act Two, a guilt-wracked Simba comes to the SPECIAL WORLD of a lush jungle area where he meets two funny sidekicks, fast-talking meerkat Timon and tubby warthog Pumbaa, the Rosencrantz and Guildenstern of the piece. To get his mind off his guilt, they teach him the take-it-easy philosophy of "Hakuna Matata" and show him how they live on the jungle's never-ending banquet of bugs. Simba grows into a powerful teen-aged lion and one day has a violent encounter with another lion who was menacing Pumbaa. However it turns out to be Nala, who has grown into a beautiful and powerful young lioness. Their love blossoms in a romantic duet. But Nala is on a mission. She tells him how Scar has tyrannized Pride Rock, enslaved the animals, and tried to take her as his mate. She pleads with him to return and take his rightful place as king. Haunted by his guilt and unsure of his strength, Simba hesitates. Like many heroes, he isn't eager to leave the pleasures of the SPECIAL WORLD. But his father's spirit appears (like the ghost of Hamlet's father in Act One of "Hamlet") and urges him to face his destiny.

  In Act Three, Simba shakes off his guilt, returns to Pride Rock, and confronts Scar. A fierce battle breaks out. Simba's "manhood" and right to be king are put to the ultimate test. Simba's ALLIES come to his aid, and Scar falls from power with a touch of poetic justice, echoing the way he allowed Mufasa to fall to his death. Simba takes his father's place and "The Circle of Life" continues.

  As the presentation concluded, it wasn't difficult to see the Hero's Journey elements in The Lion King. Simba is a classic hero whose ORDINARY WORLD is that of privilege and the knowledge that he will one day be king. His first CALL is his father's demand that he grow up and face the responsibilities of kingship. Earning the right to rule the land as king is a metaphor for adulthood in many fables and fairy tales. His cockiness and disobedience constitute a REFUSAL OF THE CALL. He receives other CALLS — the temptation to explore the forbidden zone, a call of childhood romance from Nala, and most drastically, the death of his father that calls him to enter a new phase of life in which he has to run away to survive.