The Reason Why We Tell Stories

Behind even the smallest encounter is a story. This may sound like a large call to make, yet psychology would vouch it as true (well at least the majority). Since identity has become so important to us in this reign of the individual, we need a story to verify our own existence. Are you sophisticated? Prove it with the coffee you drink. Are you ethical? Prove it by donating to a charity, or helping an elderly person cross the road. Witty? Find things in the news that are both funny and intelligent. The ways in which we 'prove' our identities, often through activities we already like doing, structure even the smallest details of our everyday lives.

 The problem with telling stories is that there is often a very fine line between a story and a lie. 'Telling stories' is, in fact, the wording for telling lies (just put in a much nicer way). Yet telling stories is what we rely so much upon in everyday decisions. Which shampoo you buy is very much dictated by who you think you are (are you thrifty, girly, would you even buy your shampoo from the supermarket?). So are general acts of kindness, or driving habits, or search terms; and, one could argue, even the fact whether there is a decision to do something at all (after all, these things might not apply to your life narrative at all).

Furthermore, your identity in your life story often seems to fit into one prescribed by society. The terms you would use to describe yourself are cut out for you - nerd, narcissist, drop-out, handsome - and all rely on societal norms anyhow. And yet, all of us want to be individual. We try and fight the restrictions placed upon who we can and can't be. Nevertheless, these societal 'stories' are the tools which others use to place us in their stories. Categories of stories help people know where other people 'fit'. Which leads you easily to the question - are our whole lives just a bunch of stories? Or, to put it harshly, a pack of lies?

 This may seem a highly strung question for a Thursday morning (I would agree with you). Yet in a world where no one actually knows what the real deal is (unless you are religious or religiously-scientific), lies are what you cling to. It is really up to society to deem your life story, or you, as authentic (remembering that you, too, are an actor in that society). These narratives that we use to make sense of the world are the only things that make sense. They are external and they are real - you can grab on to them, blog them, remember them with photos, have them re-told to you. You can make up your own authenticity; after all, who is to prove that any of the stories are objectively true? They are all released into the current frame of who you think you now are, or who you want to be.

The most common desired life narratives are picked up by marketers and advertisers, who insert their products into the way you live your life. If you can use a brand of toothpaste or drink a brand of tea every morning, then that too is part of your (at least external) identity. Life stories are developed much before the time you could write an autobiography: they are persistent in your persistence to repeat the same things over and over as life rituals. Psychologically, we are built to love rituals - they help our mental health. And so we become, increasingly, what we do, but also what we buy, as a reflection of what we desire. Whether or not we are conscious of it, we are all authors of at least our own existence, pencilling down the grittiest of details for ourselves to see.

 So what does all this matter, really? Well, it just makes you more aware that much of what sells today is really bottled familiarity and desire. The objects we want, and crave, are those that we believe will help us get that little bit closer to the person we want to be (whether consciously or not). Even negating buying is part of this; your ability to not buy is a part of you believing you are a person that would not be 'sucked in'. The things you use everyday, in this way, are not so much tools as objects of memory - objects that remind you of what you are aspiring to become, where you've been and maybe even a bit of  past sentimentality in-between. As humans are already anthropologically connected to possessions in ways not fully discovered, that daily mirror you use could indeed be a cultural reflection of you. You, at least, branded.

Awkward or Just Uncomfortable?

We've all had an experience, particularly as Kiwis, that is awkward. It might be something as simple as deciding who goes next in a line, or having to butt in on a conversation. It might go a little further and involve frenemies or exes in out of context places. Maybe someone's sprung you doing a flash 'n' dash down the hallway? Whatever it was, it was a defined moment, and it was awkward.

Girl In The Middle: Awkwardness Exhibit A

 My question today is: what is the essence of awkwardness? So many varied situations can be awkward. Sometimes a potentially awkward situation is glossed over by a great sense of confidence or troubleshooting at the time. Sometimes you are awkward and others aren't, or vice versa. Is awkwardness derived from your moral values, or personal upbringing, or brought about simply by waking up on the wrong side of (someone else's) bed? Most of the time, it seems increasingly hard to tell.

To bring an awkward (out of context) dictionary definition into the play, awkwardness is defined as three things:

Something or someone causing difficulty in your life; e.g.  an awkward-moving shopping trolley, or bringing a friend that doesn't socialize well to a party

Causing easy embarrassment or inconvenience; e.g.  seeing one of your parents flirt with bar staff at a family restaurant outing

Not smooth or graceful; e.g., tripping whilst trying to look desirable in front of someone you may like to procreate with

The Duck Pout: A regular fixture in awk-sexy pictures

The thing that stands out about these three definitions of awkwardness is that they are really not that varied. Awkwardness is really just being uncomfortable in a situation. Your chances of feeling uncomfortable have strong links to self-esteem and introversion, which explains why people with these traits find reasons for not talking to others. They're not used to socializing, and so socializing is unfamiliar, and thus uncomfortable. Maybe they've had a bad situation they're reminded of which makes the experience uncomfortable. Inexperience creates unfamiliarity which begets awkwardness.  Or, you'll just always find it strange to see your dad trying to get it on with the waitress.

For the things that we can change, namely our side of social interactions, it seems there is only one solution: get yourself out there. Face the embarrassing situations. You may find, after all, that they're not actually that embarrassing (or maybe what's embarrassing is your feeling embarrassed which leaves other people feeling awkward). Make your conversation as available as the dole to a bush stoner. Maybe then conversation will smooth over all that is awkward on that graceless morning after.

Hunger for The Hunger Games

Every so often a movie comes out that is a cult sensation. Sometimes these are critic-worthy, sometimes not. But what is worthy in all of them is their popularity, and what that has to tell us about the values of our culture. Why, for example, are vampires suddenly sexy? Why the burst of psychocrime shows on main channels? What is it about law dramas that excite our interest? Because all of them are popular, and for the most part, profitable. Something within them touches a cultural nerve.

This is the mindset from which I approach The Hunger Games. For while the film appeals to basic instincts such as survival and family loyalty, its popularity has reached levels past reasonable expectations. The highest grossing film in NZ for this year by far, its success in the US and abroad has been put down to great reviews. Yet, paid or unpaid, the great reviews too had to come from somewhere. The modern consumer is often smart enough to smell fabricated praise, whether by use of language or the mere site on which false love is published. Instead, I propose that The Hunger Games is a great amalgamation of trends and themes we're running across for 2012. Some we have reached, some are in the works overseas and are running off current loves. All are relevant in the question of what makes a blockbuster, and its underlying question of what indeed makes something an icon of cult culture.

Andre Pejic: Taking Androgny to New Levels

Cross-Gender
This is a theme that has been widely attributed to The Hunger Games' success. Cross-gender here is not transsexual, or the sexual offerings at 2am on K Road, but rather androgny. Androgny has been running through fashion for some time, making headlines through the usage of dual-sex models such as Andrej Pejic. Wear boyfriend jeans, long blazers or brogues to work? Know men that wear cardigans? You have been swept away by the andrognynous trend, too. Celebrities, just like they do with any trend, have also been catching on, most notably Tilda Swinton. In Hunger, this cross-gender theme is best dsisplayed in the khaki gear all the 'players' wear and the disruption of gender stereotypes, such as Katniss' skill as a hunter.

Trilogies: Successful or not?

Book Trilogies
This is a trend that has also been underway for some time, most popularly deployed in Harry Potter, Twilight, and The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo. The audiences most likely to watch The Hunger Games would be anywhere from 10 to 30 - a generation (Y) which has been weaned on trilogies and their cult status in marketing. In the face of virtual gaming, parents often see movies sprung from books as a good way to get their children to read more - the result being that the main story is often encouraged. Trilogies also offer a long period of interest and maintain audience hype, making them attractive offers for publicists. The Hunger Games is only the first in a trilogy of three, which will no doubt  be released with substantial time lapses for extra revenue.

Reality Show Humiliation
The humiliation endured by the characters in Hunger is not a new phenomemon - since the rise of reality shows at the turn of the millennium, producers have been looking for more and more laughs to keep audiences. Shows like The Moment of Truth, where contestants ruin their personal lives for a few thousand dollars, are  examples of humiliation-earning ratings. The humiliation theme crosses many other aspects of reality-show life: dating (The Bachelor/ Bachelorette, Beauty and the Geek), personal appearance (I Used To Be Fat, The Swan, 60 Minute Makeover), sports and athletics (Survivor, The Amazing Race) and intellect (Are You Smarter Than a 5th Grader). The gaming aspect of most of these shows is attractive in a generation addicted to instant gratification, offering a part both for the voyeur and the fame-hungry. The Hunger Games realizes this humiliation through the upper society's control of the game and the usage of cameras.

The Moment of Truth: Humiliation Made Public

 Apocalypse
One could argue the theme of apocalypse is centuries old - but, just like fashion trends, it is one that resurges at peak times. Apocalyptic themes are booming not just in movies such as Twilight and Avatar but in the news, too, with the Mayan calendar's looming date shadowed at the end of the year. Debate has been lively around this, boosted by riots and mini-wars across the globe as leaders topple and societies revolt. This film, although not actually about the end of the world, invokes apocalypse through the potential end of the contestant's world, the upper society's control being that of a Creator, and the struggle to death at the end.

All of these are just a few of the trends Hunger relates to; but you can see the power they have in making a success of a production. Produce what people are interested in and you've tapped desire. Produce what is relevant to people and you've made it interesting. Combine the two together with  trends in fashion and consumerism and you've got something intellectually and emotionally interesting that is cool.

Let the Hunger Games begin.