M. Night Shyamalan
Click for screenplay.
"I hope I am always able to risk everything for the right and just cause. If we did not make this decision, we could never again call ourselves innocent, and that, in the end, is what we have protected here - innocence. That, I am not ready to give up."
The Village has been next on my list for ages because almost everyone I know thinks it is mediocre at best (ha, ha). I disagree. After having read the screenplay, I still disagree. I'll analyze the crap out of it, but this is also going to be a defense of the story, so get your fightin' gloves on.
I think the biggest misunderstanding facing The Village is genre. (I attribute part of this argument to my dad, who probably planted the idea in my head that Shyamalan was breaking the pattern of scary-suspense-action-thriller-and-there's-a-twist-at-the-end with The Village.)
The Village isn't about [[SPOILER ALERT]] the "twist" that they are actually living in the present day and not the late 1890s, nor is it about the fact that Those We Don't Speak Of are (as Edward Walker puts it) "farce". The Village is a love story.
I'm going to do something a little different with the Seven Steps. I'm going to write one set with the screenplay revolving around the plot twist, and another set with the screenplay revolving around the love story. The real Seven Steps would probably be in between both of those, but look at me, dancing right around that responsibility, dancey-dancey-dancey! I'll just give you the two and you can mush them together yourself.
The Seven Steps (the plot twist):
1) Once upon a time, there is a small village in the midst of Covington Woods, a haunted forest in which monsters ("Those We Don't Speak Of") reside. The forest separates the village from what the villagers refer to as "the Towns", which are simply understood as "wicked places where wicked people live".
2) And every day, the villagers believe that if they offer sacrifices to Those We Don't Speak Of and respect the boundary of Covington Woods, they will live in peace and seclusion from both the monsters and the Towns.
3) Until one day, a mentally challenged boy named Noah discovers a costume in a shed - a costume that makes it evident that Those We Don't Speak Of do not actually exist, but have always been town elders wearing costumes and maintaining the lie that ultimately keeps the village separate from the Towns.
4) And because of this, Noah begins to wear the costume and inadvertently terrorize the town (without the knowledge of the elders). The subsequent struggle brings two villagers, Lucius and a blind girl named Ivy, to admit that they love each other and that they plan to marry.
5) And because of this, Noah becomes jealous because he also has feelings for Ivy. Noah stabs Lucius, leading Ivy to request that she be allowed to go through Covington Woods and fetch medicine from the Towns to prevent Lucius from dying. Noah, to escape the severe punishment that awaits him, steals a monster costume and runs into the Woods.
6) Until finally, Ivy accidentally leads Noah to fall to his death in the Woods. She makes it to the Towns, which prove to be present-day society. Ivy finds the medicine she needs and returns home.
7) And ever since that day, the villagers live in relative peace, as Noah is no longer running through the town as one of the monsters, and continue to live under the direction of the elders.
Kinda weak, huh? Especially the climax and denouement. That's because when you try to focus on only the plot twist, you miss a huge chunk of the story.
The Seven Steps (the love story):
1) Once upon a time, a quiet, thoughtful man named Lucius Hunt and a blind woman named Ivy Walker live in a small village in the middle of Covington Woods. The Woods are haunted by monsters ("Those We Don't Speak Of"), and they separate the village from what the villagers call "the Towns" - "wicked places where wicked people live".
2) And every day, Lucius and Ivy interact with each other in only the most formal of ways. The entire village believes that if they offer sacrifices to Those We Don't Speak Of and respect the boundary of Covington Woods, they will live in peace and seclusion from both the monsters and the Towns.
3) Until one day, Lucius approaches the town elders and asks permission to go to the Towns to fetch more advanced medicine, in order to prevent needless death from illness in the village. He is denied his request.
4) And because of this, Lucius walks a few yards into the Woods. Seemingly because of his transgression, Those We Don't Speak Of begin to terrorize the town. This brings Lucius and Ivy together; they love each other, and make plans to marry.
5) And because of this, a mentally challenged boy named Noah, who also has feelings for Ivy, becomes jealous. Noah stabs Lucius, mortally wounding him, leading Ivy to request that she be allowed to go through Covington Woods and fetch medicine from the Towns to prevent Lucius from dying. She is given permission, but all throughout her journey, she is plagued by one of the monsters.
6) Until finally, Ivy tricks the monster and leads it to its death. She makes it to the Towns, which prove to be present-day society. Ivy finds the medicine she needs and returns home.
7) And ever since that day, the village lives in relative peace.
This is one of my favorite movies of All Time. The screenplay is not the final draft, and there are some little things that I'm glad were omitted, and some that I wish had been kept. (This is something that I'm learning with lots of these screenplays, particularly Little Miss Sunshine. But that's not really my point here.)
Both the screenplay and the film make it evident that the story isn't about the horror or the patented "M. Night Twist". It's Lucius' and Ivy's love story. People want to pin Shyamalan to the suspense thriller genre because of the massive success of The Sixth Sense. That poor man. If I had one big hit and everyone expected everything I did afterwards to be exactly like it, I'd quit. In fact, I would argue that The Village's "twist" is Shyamalan parodying himself. You can try to shock and surprise the audience all you want, but sometimes what we - and the story - need, is a good ol' fashioned romance. (In the case of The Village, it's very old-fashioned. 1890s old-fashioned. Ha. Ha. Ha.)
It's easier to talk about The Village in its story-based chronology, rather than its plot-based chronology.
(Story-based = the events that took place in the world, in the order in which they supposedly happened.
Plot-based = the events that took place, in the order in which they occur in the film, for the audience.)
So let's go back to before the village was actually created. Unfortunately, the screenplay lacks one of the most important parts of the movie - the scene in which the elders open one of their mysterious black wooden boxes, and the audience hears voice-over explanations of why they chose to join Edward Walker in his endeavor to create a village frozen in the past, and escape the horrors of modern society as we know it. The closest we get is Edward holding a pair of blue jeans, which is nice and all, but doesn't give quite the explanation that the movie does, so I'll fill in with what I know.
The village elders suffered painful losses while they lived in the Towns (aka, modern society). If you'd like to watch this scene, click here - the relevant part is only about a couple minutes long, but as I'm linking you to an illegal Youtube copy of the entire film, I can't promise that it will be online forever. (If you're really dedicated to understanding my point, find a copy of the movie yourself - this scene begins at the 1:26:38 mark.) To sum up - they attended group counseling together and Edward Walker, an American History professor at the University of Pennsylvania, developed "an idea".
By the time the audience sees this scene, they understand what his "idea" is - to create a secluded community that mimics life in the late 1890s for those interested to escape the pain and suffering brought on by contemporary society. Enter the village.
Years passed, and while of course some people died, the village continued on. The elders preached peace, innocence, patience, charity, humility, all those good virtues. Villagers co-existed peacefully. An extra incentive for the children that grew up in the village was that Covington Woods were haunted.
EDWARD WALKER: I have always pictured [Those We Don't Speak Of], in some ways, as our protectors. They have allowed us to live here nestled amongst them in this untouched place.
This is true in a few ways - here, Edward is speaking to the children, who actually believe in the monsters. He doesn't want them to stay in the village solely out of fear of the monsters. He wants them to understand the benefit of their solitude. The monsters aren't just monsters. They're protectors. (The monsters are actually the elders in costume, so technically, yes, they are protectors.)
Not only were the Woods haunted, but the Towns were wicked. So now the village is peaceful and portrayed as a utopian oasis in the midst of sin.
Some already have an issue with the story at this point. One of the people that had to suffer next to me while I bounced up and down in my seat watching the film offered a great argument to dislike the story based on the principle that the elders' desire to run away from their past, and from pain, is despicable and doesn't deserve much pity or respect (she was nicer about it than that, but I'm summing up). The elders see modern society as plagued with corruption and violence and they believe that somewhere along the line of human history, we took a turn that we shouldn't have. They want to go back to that moment and stay on the path of innocence and purity.
First, I certainly am not rushing to defend their choice (although I think we all understand the childish and innocent desire to avoid suffering), because as the film proves, it's impossible to escape hurt. Death comes for everyone, even if you live in a sin-less, happy little village. Suffering and pain are universal human woes. Even before the shit hits the fan, this is evident.
AUGUSTUS (sitting next to his small son's coffin): Who will plague me with questions now? Who will pinch me to wake me up? Who will laugh at me when I fall? Whose breath will listen to so that I may sleep? Whose hand will I hold, so that I may walk?
LUCIUS: It is a blessed place, this village. Our days are filled with love and compassion and joy... but there is also some suffering and fear.
ALICE: Society survives on greed, and desire. Its heart is fed by wants. It has no place for something so un-tradable and old-fashioned as contentment.
Ivy put it well. At one point, she reprimanded Lucius about his desire to go to the Towns to get medicine for the village so they could avoid painful events such as the death of Augustus' little boy, at the beginning of the film.
IVY: You speak as if we are plagued. There is nothing to cure.
This reminds me of the Perfect Pacifist People trope, also seen in a couple other stories that I love. You can't cure human nature. You can't weed out aggression, hate, greed, desire, and all those other crappy things. It's a part of life. The Village makes that evident to the elders, who have tried for years to pretend that they can escape suffering, as well as to us, the film's audience. One benefit that both audiences have, however, is that they see the utopia beginning to unravel at the same time that they see a love story - evidence of Good in the Bad.
EDWARD WALKER: You are a strong one, Ivy. You lead when others would follow. You see light when there is only darkness.
Despite the somewhat heavy-handed ironic symbolism (Ivy is blind, remember?), it's true.
Ivy told Lucius that there was nothing innate in the village that needed to be cured.
Ivy is very close to Noah, the mentally challenged boy who (inadvertently) terrorizes her hometown, stabs her fiancé, and almost kills her.
Ivy is a point of light for others, and she sees the light in others. She is proof that good and evil, innocence and corruption, aren't black and white. The Towns aren't horrible places entirely. The village, unfortunately, is not pure, if simply because people live there and people themselves cannot be entirely pure.
The town elders are, in many ways, the least mature people in the village. Or rather, they are the most childish.
EDWARD WALKER: We are grateful for the time we have been given.
This is a claim made by the elders several times throughout the screenplay, but it isn't completely true. I'm not saying that they think they can live forever in their little secluded village. But I think in many ways they cling to life and they fear death to the point where gratefulness has little to no room in their minds.
EDWARD WALKER (to Lucius): You are fearless in a way I shall never know.
The elders have cut themselves off from the changing society. They probably hope that nothing will ever interrupt life in the village. The elders are, in a sense, paralyzed by fear of suffering - frozen alone in their little village, blind to the pain of the outside world. Unfortunately, this leads to a stunting of emotions as well. The romantic tension between Edward Walker and Alice Hunt is hinted at throughout the screenplay, but the most obvious symbol is pointed out by the ever-perceptive Lucius.
LUCIUS: [Edward Walker] hides, too. He hides his feelings for you...
ALICE: What makes you think he has feelings for me?
LUCIUS: He never touches you.
Alice (and the audience) gets proof of this at Kitty and Christop's wedding, when Alice moves to shake Edward's hand in congratulations and he avoids it entirely while shaking the hands of the people around her. Compare this to the scene where Ivy stands alone on the porch, waiting for Lucius to make sure she's okay. This is probably, by the way, one of the best scenes of anything I've ever seen ever.
In that scene, Lucius overcomes is own emotional paralysis (perhaps nurtured indirectly by the somewhat emotionally repressed society of the village itself). He is willing to risk being hurt, because that's what love is, is a risk of being hurt.
Cue Lucius and Ivy. They are young and unaware of modern society. But, as Edward Walker says, they are the ones that will have to carry on the life that the elders have built. So they have to be trusted, just as the elders trusted each other, to do their best to maintain the relative innocence and purity of the village. Edward Walker finally sees this, that they will have to trust in their children, and this is why he feels comfortable in sending his blind daughter to walk through the woods (eventually alone) and save her love, Lucius.
EDWARD WALKER (to the elders): I sent [Ivy] because I trust her. And it in her blindness that our town's hope lives.
Ivy's blindness symbolically protects her from the corruption, greed, and sin that (supposedly) control the Towns. She is the only one who can go into the Towns and not bring back vivid details and descriptions of modern life (like the truck that almost runs her over, for example). Her only care is to get the medicine needed to save Lucius' life.
Ivy's passage through Covington Woods is filled with symbols and I'm not going to go in-depth because in all honesty, I just recommend you watch the movie (or read the screenplay if you're a big nerd). It's Ivy's journey through a place that has potential to destroy her innocence.
 |
| Ivy in the Bad Color |
When she (unknowingly) leads Noah to fall to his death, she is destroying the person who threatened her love. She'll probably find this out when she returns to the village, but for now, she's fighting (and vanquishing) her demon. It's a loss of innocence for her. She sheds her yellow cloak to reveal a formerly-white dress ( #innocence ), stained with mud around the hem but still predominantly white.
Ivy's last obstacle is an ivy-covered fence that divides the real world from Covington Woods. As usual, I might be reading too far into it, but my guess is that this final struggle mirrors Ivy's role in the village's society. Like I said, she is the seer and bringer of light despite the fact that she is blind. Her optimism, loyalty, faith, determination, goodness, and overall badassery protects the village from the corruption of the Towns. The ivy-covered fence runs all the way around the reserve. It protects the life that the elders created. Ivy climbing the fence (see the double meaning there?) is her breaching that level of protection, but she is pretty much the only one who could and come back untainted. When ivy climbs, it also represents time (and sometimes wisdom, hence Ivy League colleges) - time has passed, change will come regardless. The elders can't escape it. Edward hopes that Ivy has the wisdom to see what is right.
So, we come to the big theme of the movie: love. The screenplay is, at times, much more blunt than the final product. I am a huge fan of subtlety in storytelling, so I prefer the movie's methods of communicating the theme to the audience. Here are a couple of things left out of the movie that were present in the screenplay regarding Twue Wuv:
ALICE: Why do you not tell me what you feel? I do not know if you think about love. I do not know what your dreams are...
(Alice drifts off to sleep.)
LUCIUS (pulling the blanket up to her shoulders, tucking her in): I do think about love.
(Then [Ivy] hears the first wail from the woods... the screams and wails come from all directions... we see what she cannot. The trees in these woods have holes through the center of them. We watch as wind travels through these holes and causes a sound - a scream.)
IVY: It is for love that I am here! I beg you to let me pass! ...it is for love...
These are pretty heavy-handed moments that would have shoved the audience into understanding that the movie is about love and not the twist or the fear. At the same time, though, since so many people don't seem to view it as a love story, maybe they should have been left in? Who knows. Like I said, I like the subtlety.
The trailer doesn't lend much support to the love story aspect, either. But I think it does lend itself towards Shyamalan's self-referential play with genre.
After The Sixth Sense, Unbreakable, and Signs, people expect the M. Night Twist. They want psychological thriller, and suspense. They want to be scared. This trailer pulls those people in - but what I think gets lost in the process is their open-mindedness as they walk into the theater. The trailer advertises one thing, but the movie subtly shifts in another direction, and the audience is left feeling like they were lied to, or that they hold unmet expectations. Worse yet, they feel as though they outsmarted Shyamalan by guessing the "twist" way ahead of time (don't pat yourself on the back, the "twist" is far from an original idea). They didn't walk into the theater looking for a movie. They walked in looking for the movie they predicted The Village would be, after having seen Shyamalan's previous films. They walked in with the desire to try to spot the M. Night Twist before it happened.
The first sign that would have showed the audience to change their expectations, or even to throw them out entirely, happens on page 18. (If it had been kept in the movie, it would have been before 11-minute mark. I wish it had been kept.) Alice's voice creates a sound bridge between the discovery of the second skinned animal corpse, and the village meeting meant to discuss the corpse.
ALICE (o.s.): We understand the depth of your worries, but you needn't be alarmed.
Sure, she's talking to the village and assuaging their fears about the animal corpses (and therefore, Those We Don't Speak Of). But when I read this, I felt like her words could also apply to the audience. The movie is set up as a horror film, so naturally the audience is afraid. Will the village survive? Will the characters we empathize with be okay? Are the monsters coming to get them?
You needn't be alarmed. The point of the movie is not to threaten the lives of the main characters; the only character that we come to know, that dies, is Noah. The entire village is not really at risk. We needn't be alarmed because this isn't your typical suspenseful horror movie. Eventually, the movie will steer clear of titillating fear and go down the path of what a young couple in love has to go through in order to make it work.
By the time the audience sees Noah dying in the ditch in the middle of the Woods, we know that the monsters are fake and we're doubting the validity of the village (actually, the encounter between Noah and Ivy is cross-cut with the elders reviewing the truth of their past, therefore revealing the entire truth to the audience). And guess what? There are still 20 minutes of the movie left. That means that the "twist" is not the main point of the movie. Ivy hasn't succeeded in her goal yet, she hasn't saved Lucius - the story is not resolved.
And now for my arch-nemesis, the armature.
Humanity has to learn to take the good with the bad - it's all part of existing. You cannot escape from suffering entirely.
As always, there is much more to talk about, but I feel like I should be wrapping this up.
The plot of The Village is advanced by love, not by fear. Lucius acts out of love. Noah acts out of (misguided) love. Edward's decision to let Ivy go is from love, and Ivy risks her life in the Woods alone for, yep, you guessed it, love.
EDWARD WALKER: I have great reverence for the word "love", Kitty. It should not be thrown about lightly. It is the greatest force on this earth.
No comments:
Post a Comment