The aim of a storyteller is to draw you into his story so that each character becomes a real person or, at least, a
believable person. Some storytellers do this so well that you may find yourself having a visceral reaction to the choices & actions or a character, and the consequences of those things affect you in a real way. The storytelling is not restricted to the writer of a story; it is the art of an actor to give a human identity - a soul, a believable life - to the character.
How do they decide what characters they want to bring to life? Is it dangerous to play a corrupt, bad, or just plain evil person? Can an actor go too far, get too involved in imitating the life driven by immorality? Is there subjective value - that is, is it good for the individual actor - in playing a bad guy?
I am inclined to say yes, there is subjective value in the portrayal of a villainous character for an actor. This is a theory, based off of what I have learned from a gentleman in the industry, Mr. Ben McKenzie, watching him portray men with complicated stories, most of whom seem to be sliding down the slippery slope of immorality. To my mind, he could have two motivations for this: the first is that he could simply take delight in tormenting me with his sad, wounded, tragical facial expressions. The other is that he thinks it's contributing a good to the world, thereby benefiting himself and me (and the other millions of viewers who tuned in to The O.C., SouthLAnd, and now Gotham). I like to think of myself as a reasonable person, so I have to believe that he does this for the latter reason; no reasonable person would shape their entire career and life just to torment someone that they've never met. Nor is Mr. McKenzie a mere reasonable person - he's pretty gosh darn bright. So he must have smart reasons, which I am trying to guess and convey... or I am just projecting my own rationale on the good monsieur. Either way, here's the stuff:
An actor's craft, as above stated, is to bring a writer's character to life and to tell the writer's story through that character. One would like to think that an actor puts a bit of himself into a role, especially when portraying a hero. We'd like to think that the courage, justice, mercy, etc., of a hero are brought to life because of the virtue of an actor.
We like to think that, but it simply cannot be true. Sure, some actors are truly good people who play truly good characters, but the majority are just as morally flawed and challenged as a man you meet in the cereal aisle at the grocery store. As an audience member, however, mixing up reality and fiction concerning the man behind the mask of acting is not terribly dangerous. If we believe Chris Evans is truly as wonderful as Captain America (yes, I like Capt America. He's the best), that will likely lead us down the path of cultivating our own virtue, imitating him. As the viewer, what matters is the story. Who we believe an actor to be is not really important.
Along the same lines, one might think that an actor who portrays such virtue would also learn to cultivate virtue in his own life... but I don't think that's a necessary conclusion. I hadn't thought about it until I noticed with what determination Mr. McKenzie pursues a career full of good-boy-gone-bad characters. He also seems to be pursuing the normal life of a stand-up guy. So what is a good man doing portraying such morally conflicted characters? I think it's a way in which he keeps his moral compass straight. It could for him a subjectively beneficial decision.
Since Gotham is the currently airing show, let's take a look at Mr. McKenzie's Jim Gordon.
Here's what we know about Jim in the pilot episode: war veteran, boyscout-like hero, new detective, fiance to one Barbara Kean.
Here's what we know about Jim now, five episodes later: still a war veteran, has heroic tendencies, but a liar, secretive, not-so-fresh-and-new detective. Oh, also no longer affianced to Barbara.
Jim's character arc in the five hours of television we have seen thus far is, to put it bluntly, on a bleak trajectory. Jim is facing an impossible task: saving Gotham. It is a city corrupted from the bottom to the top, every conspiracy wrapped in another conspiracy, danger in every alley, help from bribed prostitutes, but not from police, and an ever darker whirlpool of lies, manipulation, and threats. Every villain is a vigilante who is fighting for justice outside of the justice system that is riddled with injustice.
What is a cop supposed to do with that?
#GoodGordon, as I've taken to hashtagging this character, started out with a black and white system of morality. One might argue, but I don't think prove, that his morality was almost scrupulously strict. Slowly, but surely, and oh-so-reminiscent of the infamous #BadBen Sherman, Jim is muddying his white paint by dipping his brush into the black. It is all in an effort to preserve any goodness left in the city of Gotham, but to continue with the paint analogy, his whole world is being tinged darker and darker shades of grey. There are questions that Jim now has to answer and decisions he must make. And from the consternation of his forehead wrinkle, I don't think he's happy about it. (Mr. McKenzie really does have the best facial expressions.)
That clearly delineated separation of right from wrong has been obscured for #GoodGordon. He is already caught between a rock and hard place and a Penguin and a Falcone and a Fish and a Maroney and a sour-puss partner and it's only going to get worse.
So, you ask, why would this be a
good thing for Ben McKenzie? I'll tell you.
For a man with faith in an all-good, all-loving God, the moral life is tough. He can do pretty well most of the time, but he will always stop doing well and do pretty gosh darn terribly at various points. What a man of faith has, even from the lowness and darkness of sin where he finds himself, is an objective standard of goodness to strive for. He recognizes that this objective goodness is not set by his own being, never tarnished by his own failures, but is a Being that is Good. The faithful man's goal, Who is an inimitable Good, never wavers, never changes, never lessens in goodness, but always invites us to approach Him.
For those who don't have a God in whom they can trust and believe, the moral life can be a pretty lonely road. A man without religion or faith in a higher, overseeing, beneficent Being who created us, saved us, and loves us, will be challenged to keep his moral compass pointing in any direction with consistency. Without an objective standard, outside of oneself, one's morality may shift and change drastically throughout one's life. A man without faith in God would not seek out and depend on a Being who is Good. For this man, his morality is self-determined (though we know any goodness and righteousness in that self-determination is simply an unrecognized & abundant gift from God).
So when you are responsible for the steadiness of your own moral compass, what do you do? How can you help yourself be a better person, especially when you live and work in Hollywood land where you pretend to be someone other than yourself for a living?
The simplest solution, but one that I've come to realize is not risk-free: play the good guy. By accepting roles in which you imitate virtuous actions, you could potentially learn the habits of virtue. You would imitate a man who is challenged and possibly tempted to immorality, but he overcomes the difficulty and goodness triumphs over all!
But here's the risk: our human capacity for
pride.
If you play a good man, a "perfect man", would you not be tempted to think of yourself as that man? If he closely resembles who you want to be, could you not easily slip into a mindset of complacency? If I were to be portray the heroine in a story who exhibited compassion, intelligence, and strength, I would be sorely tempted to start attributing that compassion, intelligence, and strength to my real person. Think about it: if you saw something as desirable, saw "yourself" doing the desirable thing, you would conclude that
you did that desirable thing, in fact. You brought those qualities to the character because you
have those qualities in your own character. You could paint your own person to be quite the heroine, of whom the fictional character is only an imitation. Instead of growing in virtue through imitating virtue, you could very well find yourself growing in the vice of pride... for good qualities you don't even really have. Subjectively, playing clean could lead to living dirty.
So what happens if you elect to play the bad guy? By simple solution logic, one would suppose that by imitating evil actions, one could easily become evil. But I don't think that's a high-risk game. Let me illustrate with a metaphor involving Ben McKenzie and paint.
A good man, but morally flawed and challenged as all men are, Ben McKenzie portrays Jim Gordon, who starts his journey as a morally upright Jim Gordon.
1. Ben McKenzie uses white paint to portray the character of Jim Gordon.
2. Ben McKenzie starts painting his Jim with mostly white paint, but deliberately adds some black, that is easily recognized as black, which muddles the character's glossy white sheen with the drabness of grey. It is deliberate, careful, and small step off the road of squeaky clean morality.
3. Ben McKenzie incrementally increases the amount of black used in his portrait of Jim, adding shadows and obscuring details, leading to a generally darker moral landscape. Again, it is careful, thoughtful, and very deliberate.
4. Ben McKenzie takes gobs and gobs of black paint and liberally pours it onto his portrait of Jim, making it a sad, sad puddle of black, wet, and depressing paint. Sob, sob, sob.
5. Ben McKenzie is, at last, granted a show that runs long enough to follow the character in to the pit of despair and back out to the world of sunshine, goodness, and hope. Please, television executives, don't leave Jim where you left #BadBen: hanging out in the world of dark, dirty, and seemingly hopeless immorality.
Assuming that Mr. McKenzie starts out this journey as Jim Gordon with his own personal moral compass steadily pointing toward goodness and truth, but not immovably righteous, he may safely proceed to portray this dark path. As Gotham's story unfolds, Mr. McKenzie may deliberately and knowingly twist and turn his Gordon in to the world of moral ambiguity and compromise. Through this intentional destruction of Jim Gordon's black & white morality, he could very well be subjectively benefiting his own soul. With every bad decision and compromise Jim makes, we have an example of the path we shouldn't choose... and can thereby more clearly see the path we should choose. If done correctly and intelligently (which I fully trust him to do), Mr. McKenzie is in no danger of losing his own morality alongside Jim, but rather, by an accurate portrayal of human failure, might actually strengthen his own personal virtue. That sounds subjectively beneficial.
By drawing detailed portraits of good guys who have gone wrong, Mr. McKenzie is drawing himself a map of morality. Each character has good intentions, but always finds a way to begin sliding down the slippery slope into immorality or, sometimes, amorality. But what one can know with certainty is that he is an artist, drawing a picture so unlike himself that he can never
confuse his own identity with that of his subject.
A good guy is sketching his path, and possibly a path for others to follow, by highlighting the darkness. He is aligning his moral compass by exploring immorality through characters in his storytelling. His craft of acting could be construed as an extreme version of learning from others' mistakes.
It's a bold move, not risk-free, but I think it will work for Ben McKenzie. I believe that he is smart enough to do this the right way and that he might even be smart enough to help others by this unconventional method. Like Aristotle, he is exploring the world in which we live, where:
-->
"It is nevertheless hard sometimes to determine what should
be chosen at what cost, and what should be endured for what gain; and harder
still to stand by our decisions."
I know...
A lot of words, a lot of thoughts that I'm imagining to belong to a person I have never met, nor am ever likely to meet. But it's the only sense I can make of his decisions as a good man (and I have it on very good authority that he is, in fact, a good man).
A lot of words, a lot of thoughts in which my smarter friends might find hundreds of illogical and fallacious assumptions and conclusions. I apologize if I (inadvertently) uttered falsehoods and injured your intelligence. Just learn from my mistakes if, in fact, I have made a mistake. :)
