When TV Becomes Trivial - Analysis of The 100 S5

"I'm going to write because I cannot help it," -Charlotte Bronte

As you all well know, my favorite hobby is analyzing stories. And, of course, I like to analyze the content I'm consuming. 

Is anyone surprised?

Anyway, Season 5 of my third favorite tv show - The 100 - has been airing for the past month, and I've been noticing a trend that's concerning. It has also plagued The CW's Riverdale. It could be that these two shows come from the same network, but alas. It's still a problem. 

Season Five picks back up at the very end where Season Four left off, with Clarke radioing Bellamy, and a mysterious ship appearing in the air. And from there, there's only about a one episode interlude of establishing both where Clarke is on earth and where Bellamy and the others are in space. One other episode is spent on Octavia in the bunker, but otherwise, the episodes plunge right back into the thick of the plot. 

And already, we have a problem. This season's conflict arises when a group of prisoners come down from their mother ship to fight for the last habitable spot on earth - well, North America at least. 

And my question is this: why focus on this when there are six years worth of quality material that is just skipped over? The stories within the six years are far more interesting that just watching our heroes defeat yet another villain. Imagine all of the things that happened to them over six years that changed them and shape them into who they are. Skipping all of this time and just breezing right past all of that good character material is just a disservice. 

This is, unfortunately, a pitfall that many tv shows fall into. Once Upon A Time and The Walking Dead, to name a few. And it all culminates to the fact that the writers start writing for the thrills and stop writing for the characters, which is a one-stop-shop to failure. The characters of The 100 feel disconnected from who they were, which is a tragedy. But it would be less of a tragedy if the writers spent more time developing who they had changed into. 

However, I think this is a systemic problem with television though. The writers can't see a permanent end in sight because they never know if the show is going to be renewed, and if they do, it's probably too little too late to fix all of their problems. When you can't see a permanent end in sight, meaning something that overarcs through the whole series, it all feels . . . trivial. Like nothing matters, and all of the characters seem to reset at the beginning of another season. 

The problem when tv shows drag on and on, like The 100 is gearing towards, is that it starts writing for the thrills and not writing for the characters. The writers think they need to keep the watchers hooked with big reveals and plot twists, but all they really need is solid characters with growing arcs. I'm afraid that this is what The 100 is becoming, because jumping right back into the action without giving these characters time to develop - or even breathe - makes all of the other time we spent with them in past seasons feel wasted. It all loses meaning when the writers forget to focus on the most important part of the story. 

The 100 is a good show. It has strong characters, heartbreaking arcs, and interesting and complex themes and morals. Don't let stats, viewership, or the uncertainty of renewal draw your focus away from what really keeps viewers: the characters. I'm looking at you, Jason Rothenberg. You can do better. You have done better. 

~The WordShaker

How We Learn Better From Bad Stories | Writing Advice

"Being a writer requires intoxication with language," -Jim Harrison

I have a strange hypothesis, that everyone should watch bad or subpar movies, read subpar books, etc. because we can learn about stories so much better that way. 

Now hear me out, because the popular dialogue says otherwise. By consuming good media and identifying why it's good, then our creations will become better, right?

Wrong. 

See, everything we create is tainted with our emotional connection to it, so we can't see it in full clarity. And we can unsuccessfully emulate something we like in our art. 

But if we cut out everything that's bad, everything that we can identify in subpar fiction, then that can vastly improve our writing. 

To prove my point, I recently watched The Space Between Us with my friend, and it was okay. It had its moments of brilliance, and, inevitably, it had its missteps. Spoilers, duh. 

But by watching a movie like this, I was able to look at it critically and better see what it did right and what it did wrong. 

When we read okay books and watch okay fiction, the bad stuff seems to pop out, as does the good stuff. For example, the origins of the relationship between Gardner (Asa Butterfield) and Tulsa (Britt Robertson) are never established, so there is a delay in which the audience connects to their relationship. 

The focus was also a little off. A significant amount of time is spent with the adults in the movie, namely Gardner's father and his mother figure, Kendra, when it should have been focused more on the romance between Tulsa and Gardner. I say this only because this was how the movie was marketed, and it seemed to be the overarching theme of the movie as well. 

But The Space Between Us also does some things well. It's aesthetically beautiful and has some poignant lines. It has a lot of potential in its concept and characters, but it barely scratches the surface with Gardner and Tulsa, who had the beginnings of enthralling and deep characters. 

Seeing the potential in an "okay" story is inspiring to the writer, scriptwriter, filmmaker, storyteller. By seeing what doesn't work and why - and, by default, seeing what does work - allows us to apply it to our own stories. 

So, go watch that 3/5 star rated movie, and read that book you know you probably won't like. It will help you in the long run. 

~The WordShaker