Spinning Against the Drive: Defining the Scope of Narrative Analysis in New Criticism
Herman Melville once wrote, “Any great poem spins against the way it drives.” David Milch, creator of the masterpiece drama Deadwood, felt that compelling fictional characters also spin in sin against the direction of their moral drive. New Criticism is concerned with this friction for its narrative analysis of value and appreciation for drama.
Understanding how compelling characters spin against their moral drive as they interact with other characters is a prime directive of New Criticism. From there, it becomes more apparent how themes of power and malice, good and evil, love and hate, and greed and self-sacrifice shape the situations in the stories we tell on screen. Difficult choices in times of trouble drive human drama. New Criticism is concerned with revolution and redemption, not finger-pointing and blame-shaming. The latter is what Old Critics do.
First, we must learn to define fictional characters by determining their moral drive. In what way does their heart bend? From there, we can explain how they spin against that drive and, beyond that, identify and discuss the thematic movements that create compelling dramas and, therefore, define their moral worth as art.
Determining a character’s moral mode begins with a simple question: What does this character want most in the scene I am watching?--the same question actors ask themselves before they open their mouths to speak a character’s dialogue or offer up their limbs and facial expressions to create the physical presence of a fictional projection.
As a child, one of my favorite creative activities was creating characters in Dungeons & Dragons; this was where my earliest expressions of honest storytelling took place on paper. Until then, most of my creative world-building happened through my toys: GI Joe, Transformers, Thundercats, He-Man, Star Wars, M.A.S.K., and more, all serving as a theater for my imagination.
While it’s powerful for a child to create within someone else’s Universe of play, the morality of the characters I was playing was largely predetermined by toy manufacturers and by commercial Hollywood films and animated content aimed at selling those toys to little boys and girls. It was playing inside a simulation, and it was joyous. When I started creating characters and assigning them backstories with moral alignment justified by traumas in their lives, I was preparing myself for a life of writing and appreciating fiction. D&D offers the most compelling moral matrix of character building, yielding value in artistic analysis.
In your mind, create a two-by-two matrix with four quadrants. The horizontal axis is MORALITY, with three tick values: Good, Neutral, and Evil. The vertical axis is ETHICS, with three tick values: Lawfulness, Neutrality, and Chaotic. What follows is an overview of the nine modes of moral complexity, with brief explanations and examples for each.
1. “Lawful Good” Characters who believe in truth, justice, and order. They adhere to a strict code of conduct and strive to do what is morally correct and beneficial for the community. (Example: Captain America from Marvel)
2. “Neutral Good” These characters do their best to help others according to their needs. They are altruistic, often acting without regard for laws or chaos. (Example: Albus Dumbledore in Harry Potter)
3. “Chaotic Good” Freedom-loving and kind-hearted, these characters believe in doing good in their own way, often challenging traditional expectations and laws. (Example: Robin Hood)
4. “Lawful Neutral” These characters are dedicated to order, tradition, or a personal code of conduct. They follow rules and structure, but without a commitment to Good or Evil. (Example: Judge Dredd from 2000 AD)
5. “True Neutral” True Neutrals often strive for balance. They see the value in all viewpoints and might act differently depending on the situation, without a strong inclination towards good, evil, law, or chaos. (Dr. Manhattan in Watchmen)
6. “Chaotic Neutral.” Such characters value their freedom and autonomy. They avoid rules and traditions and are not driven to do good or evil. (Example: Jack Sparrow from Pirates of the Caribbean)
7. “Lawful Evil” These characters are willing to use the law and structure to achieve their selfish goals, often through manipulating or exploiting systems. (Example: Tywin Lannister in Game of Thrones)
8. “Neutral Evil” Selfish and cruel, these characters do whatever they can get away with to gain advantage or power without the constraints of law or chaos. (Example: Emperor Palpatine in Star Wars)
9. “Chaotic Evil” Characters of this alignment often embody chaos and evil, acting on whims, desires, and personal urges without regard for the rights or lives of others. (The Joker from Batman)
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A good story takes a main character on a journey from one modality to another, an action that sparks a reaction, igniting similar moral impulses in other characters or creating enemies and conflicts that compose compelling drama that matters to us universally as humans (not just abused minorities).
Consider Han Solo, who was Chaotic Neutral when we first met him in the Mos Eisley Cantina. He was a simple smuggler doing right by his clients, except when he had to drop a shipment because of an Empire checkpoint that went wrong, and Han lost the cargo of Jabba the Hutt, putting him in a situation where Han had to take any money that came to him, including this starry-eyed farm boy and crazy old hermit who thought he was a space wizard. Eventually, Han Solo ends his life as Neutral Good, rarely acting outside the boundaries of the laws of the New Republic he helped establish. That movement ultimately cost him his relationship with his wife and son, which is the tragedy of Han Solo.
Characters spinning against the way they drive is the essence of great fiction, and the beginning of appreciation for the stories told on film. The New Critic must be well-versed in studying and breaking down the topographical moral lines of any story, charting character moral drifts and dramatic spiritual shifts in direction like the old pirates watched the winds and stars.
The value in fiction is when a character recognizes they are spinning against their moral drive, becoming aware of how they have either 1) inflicted trauma on other characters or 2) suffered trauma from other characters. They could kill someone or, on the other side, apologize, stop doing the behavior, and seek redemption for their sins. If the latter, they either pursue justice and vengeance or practice forgiveness and move on. These possibilities are a narrative overlay of the story being told on that two-by-two matrix of moral alignment, a system that becomes a helpful lens through which to analyze and appreciate good stories.
Films where no character spins against the way they drive, are not good movies or aren’t good enough to write about anyway.
Once the New Critic identifies the moral mode of each main character, the next step is to assess how each character thinks they will get what they want from the others. Will they emotionally manipulate them, gaslighting them until they bleed dry and commit suicide? Will they kidnap them and torture them into submission? Will they steal their money and trash their reputation? Or will they help someone down on their luck who needs assistance, kindness, and forgiveness? Would they sacrifice their lives to maintain another character’s safety and joy?
This exploration of character motivation can be applied to any fictional character, not just Cinema. It can also be applied to politicians and CEOs. It’s good to ask, “Why are so many of these politicians and business leaders Lawful Evil or worse? Why do we listen to these people? Allow them to manipulate our lives?” Why indeed. Best we stick to conversations about fictional people because the answers to those questions can suck the soul out of the Universe.
Round Characters are in turmoil and moving along their arc of salvation or damnation, depending on the story. Meanwhile, flat characters do not change their moral mode during a story.
Finally, Moral Redemption is the most crucial story that human beings tell and, therefore, is a primary focus for New Criticism, the story of the sinner made a saint. Redemption is more critical than tragedy or blame, although these elements are essential in personal and collective salvation stories. Every human being has sinned against others at some point in their life. We must project our past sins through fictional narratives that align with characters’ moral journey towards redemption and salvation. Above all, this elevates human beings above animals in the jungle. Look out at the world, and you can see how many pathetic people still live lesser moral lives than forest creatures. Some of those with the most enormous fangs and the sharpest claws are wealthy beyond measure and powerful beyond scope, yet in their souls, they exist on a lower spiritual level than animals.
Staring closely at art through a moral lens of analysis and appreciation is our most significant investment in civilization. It’s an investment more effective than any sport or system of politics yet invented, highlighting the pedagogical aspect of film study and critical writing, the one that teaches us by providing a memetic moral framework within which to cast our unique life choices and ask those ancient goddesses of grace in art, “Are these characters good people? Am I a good person?”
Good fiction can change the world for the better, but only in small measures for a limited time. Ask any church that’s being honest, and they’ll tell you the sell-by date on their story has long since passed. Ancient religions continue milking the ghost stories of our past to emotionally manipulate the spiritually weak, still licking the floor in the shadows because they believe those stories are real memories to be worshipped and tithed. New Criticism is a rejection of this.
