TWO ESCALATIONS FOR THE PRICE OF ONE

I've used my own term "escalation" twice on this blog for separate literary operations, though with the sense that they do connect up in a general sense. In 2012's ESCALATION PROCLAMATION I said:

Though I specified in NARRATIVE DEATH-DRIVE PT 2 that narrative conflict did not require literal violence, narrative violence does have a potential, beyond that of any other literary device, for escalating the immediacy of the conflict.  Even the kinetic appeal of sex—so earnestly defended by Legman above—cannot match violence in terms of fomenting the narrative principle of escalation. 

So "escalation" in this sense refers to the way in which narrative conflict is increased when violent threats are made or carried out in a repeated fashion, in order to better engross an audience in the resolution of said conflict.

Then in 2021's ESCALATION PROCLAMATION PT. 2, I shifted the term's use "with respect to the concepts of high and low forms of both stature and charisma." I began by distinguishing two types of escalation, quantitative (which has a direct parallel to the quantitative uses of narrative violence in the previous formulation) and qualitative. My main criterion for the latter was that of a work, or a series of works, becoming a "cultural touchstone." A more precise way of wording this would be to specify that the only works that become cultural touchstones are those that realize concrescence in one or more of the four potentialities. Though I didn't consider the idea at the time of writing Part 1, I'll now state that there is also a qualitative form of "conflict-escalation," and that this is identical with the term I styled "variety." 

I articulate this distinction in order to focus upon the quantitative aspects of both forms. Within a given text, narrative conflict is enhanced by repetition of a threat even if the text manifests an extremely low level of concrescence-- for example, one of the worst slashers of the 1980s, TO ALL A GOODNIGHT. But levels of stature and charisma do not multiply within one text; only in a series of texts with icons in common. In ESCALATION 2 I mentioned two characters, Miss Victory and Magik, whose levels of individual stature were low because they simply hadn't starred in many serial stories as solo characters-- but who went on to accrue greater collective stature once they became members of comparatively more popular teams, respectively "Femforce" and "The New Mutants." In a separate post I mentioned that despite the fact that Marvel's Ant-Man/Giant-Man had enjoyed a solo series for a couple of years, and was better known to contemporary readers than either of my other two examples, over the next sixty years he also became better known for his participation as an Avenger, and thus his fictive career was dominated by collective rather than individual stature.

In yet another 2012 essay, GRAVITY'S CROSSBOW PART 4, I set down two significant values that should serve to explicate these two functions of escalation. 

One significant value I termed "conviction," which I aligned with the reader's generally subconscious sussing out as to how much emotion, and of what type, he should invest in a text. Conflict-escalation within a text is one technique used to stoke a reader's identification with fictional concerns, though clearly there are very types of conviction involved between, say, a slasher in which a killer knocks off several victims, and a Roadrunner cartoon in which the Coyote suffers one injury after another until the story reaches some usually arbitrary conclusion. Though I didn't continue using the term "conviction" on a regular basis, I've never contradicted this 2012 formulation, and I may find new ways to better incorporate this formulation in future.

In contrast, I've devoted several thousand words to centricity, and the entire formulation of stature/charisma is dependent on showing how this or that icon has the greatest resonance while the other icons in the narrative are of a lesser narrative order. So escalation that comes about due to an icon having appeared a few times, or many many times, is entirely congruent with all of my writings on centricity.

And all of these terminological ruminations will tie into an essay intended for tomorrow.

VARIETY IS THE SPICE OF LIVELINESS

In VARIETY IS THE SPICE OF DEATH I wrote:

The two modes [of the varied and the unvaried] also apply to the other best-known principle whose main appeal to the kinetic senses, that of sex...
 

I hold to the conviction that authors who want to escalate the audience's kinetic tensions more frequently rely upon narrative violence rather than upon narrative sexuality.  Further, the use of violence in the varied mode is much more common than any parallel employment of sexuality.

In the above cited essay I cited two examples of stories in which a villain (or monster) sought to commit a sequence of serial murders.  The two evildoers even shared the motif of doing so for reasons of revenge, though the Joker tended to also kill off even people whom he was simply robbing.  I also pointed out that in the Joker's first appearance-- in contrast to many later stories, like "The Joker's Utility Belt" and "The Joker's Five-Way Revenge"-- the villain's killings were in the *unvaried* mode, while those of Doctor Phibes were in the *varied* mode.  Of the latter mode I wrote:

Thus in the PHIBES films the audience's intrigue may also be escalated by wondering what new death-device Phibes will introduce next.

Now, since I've asserted that narrative sexuality is a kinetic effect just as violence is, the question becomes: what discrete forms would a *varied* sexuality take?

Many, though not all, of the varied forms of violence are highly dependent on man's trademark use of weapons to inflict violence.  But although people do use instruments to facillitate sexual excitement, narratives of sexuality do not show a pattern of using same.  If anything, the use of instruments would probably diminish the audience's belief in the prowess of a professed Don Juan (or Don Juanita, for that matter). 

Narratives of sexuality can use the same pattern of serial escalation as narratives of violence: a serial killer murders victim after victim, a serial lothario brings "the little death" to conquest after conquest.  But the number of victims, or conquests, while it is relevant to the principle of escalation, is irrelevant to the question of whether a narrative employs either a varied or unvaried mode.

Only one close parallel applies.  If the use of multiple weapons is the dominant application of the varied mode in narratives of violence, then in narratives of sex, the closest parallel is that of specific sexual techniques and/or predilections.

But though works like the Kama Sutra and all its modern descendants recommend the employment of varied techniques for sex-partners in the real world, in human art the varied mode of sexuality doesn't occur nearly as often as the varied mode of violence.  Part of this is, as I said, because audiences are used to the idea of warriors or murderers employing varied methods of death-bringing.  But in addition, real sex is a much more private act than real violence, and too much variety can dispel audience identification.  I tend to think that this generalization also applies to fetishization narratives on the whole.  Should an erotic artist try to deal with both, say, incest and flagellation at the same time, the response of particular enthusiasts would probably be along the lines of the famous Reece's Peanut Butter Cup slogan.  "You got your incest in my flagellation!"  "Well, you got your..." etc. etc.

In the Western tradition the most common way to explore a variety of sexual techniques seems to be through an anthology-approach, where one can use different characters to expound different techniques.  Perhaps the best known American film on this theme is the Woody Allen farce Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Sex But Were Afraid to Ask, in which each story illustrates a different technique and/or manifestation of sexuality in comic fashion, as with the segment that really ought to have been titled, "Attack of the Giant Boob."

Even in many non-Western works, the anthology-approach is favored.  Japan's OGENKI CLINIC is another farce, but a serial one, in that it revolves around the exploits of a sex-clinic doctor-- the titular Ogenki-- and his buxom nurse as they explore their clients' many and varied manifestations of sexuality under the rubric of "medical treatment."  Even so, most stories content themselves with dealing with just one manifestation at a time, as with this rather mild illustration of "superhero cosplay sex."

It should go without saying that in works that follow the general pattern of Sade-- in which victims are subjected to varied torments for the sexual entertainment of their victimizers-- and perhaps of the audience as well-- are still dominantly in the mode of "varied violence," not "varied sex."

VARIETY IS THE SPICE OF DEATH

In ESCALATION PROCLAMATION I wrote:

Though I specified in NARRATIVE DEATH-DRIVE PT 2 that narrative conflict did not require literal violence, narrative violence does have a potential, beyond that of any other literary device, for escalating the immediacy of the conflict...To be sure, narrative violence only has this potential when it is repeated within the narrative. A single violent act, such the sort of unsolved killing that initiates most murder-mysteries—including two of Poe’s three efforts in that genre—merely serves to incite the average reader’s curiosity. What incites that reader’s deeper identification is the repetition of violence. Through repetition of violence, the reader’s potential fears for the story’s characters are escalated. Which character may die next? Can the hero save the next victim from the villain’s machinations?

 

Having meditated for some time on the many ways in which violence escalates reader-tension through repetition, I've formulated two repetition-modes which are not confined to violence as such.  The two modes also apply to the other best-known principle whose main appeal to the kinetic senses, that of sex, and they might also apply to other facets of narrative storytelling: the dramatic interaction of characters, the thematic association of various thoughtful analyses, and others to be named later.  These two repetition-modes I term the VARIED and the UNVARIED.

I should add that this blogpost also touches on the theme raised with regard to the "goal-affects" of persona-types at the end of NARRATIVE DEATH-DRIVE 2:

...I am not saying that concrete goal-affects do not appear in hero-villain narratives. Maybe the Joker sends Batman a mocking note so that Batman will come chase him, but clearly the Penguin would rather get away with the loot rather than tilt with the Caped Crusader again.
 

Just as it's possible for heroes or villains to be consciously motivated by concrete goal-affects, even though their basic nature suggests the abstract quality I term "glory," it's just as possible for a monster or a demihero to appeal consciously to abstract goal-affects such as fame, even though their basic nature inclines toward the quality of "persistence."  In EXPENDITURE ACCOUNTS 4  the Baron Frankenstein of Hammer Studios' CURSE OF FRANKENSTEIN appears to want the "glory" of scientific fame, but analysis of the narrative shows that his character reflects rather the "instinctive will" of the monster-persona. Thus it will be seen that even though the two examples here use some of the same strategies for working evil, those strategies do not make them equivalent personae.

The earlier of my two examples appears in BATMAN #1 (1940).  In the first appearance of the Joker, the villain's modus operandi deals with him constantly dealing out death to many victims, whether they are rich men who possess priceless gems or authorities who have harried the Joker in the past.

Throughout this story the Joker only uses one UNVARIED weapon for his ritualized murders: a drug that causes its victims to perish with a rictus-smile on their lips (currently called "Joker-Venom" in the DC canon).  True, when chased by lawmen the villain may resort to a gun or a knife, and he does distribute the death-drug in a variety of ways: a poisoned dart, a cloud of gas.  But in this introductory story, the Joker is almost a one-trick pony, making his mode of repetition an UNVARIED one.

In contrast, consider the monstrous Doctor Phibes of two Vincent Price films of the early 1970s.

In these two films, Phibes uses a VARIED number of traps and device to execute his victims, some based on the "Ten Plagues of Egypt."  In the photo above he's using a device to drain all the blood from one victim, but his methods are diverse, including crushing a man's head with a mechanical mask, stabbing another with the horn of a (sculpted) unicorn, exposing another to scorpions, and so on.

Now the distinction I want to make is that even though the initial Joker-outing and the two Phibes films all intrigue the reader with escalating levels of violence, one does so by simply repeating essentially the same murder-method, while the other gives extra "spice" to death by introducing variety.  Thus in the PHIBES films the audience's intrigue may also be escalated by wondering what new death-device Phibes will introduce next.

Of course the Joker didn't remain a one-trick pony in later iterations.  I haven't tried to trace his development into a user of diverse gimmicks for battling justice.  However, the 1952 story "The Joker's Utility Belt" almost certainly takes pride of place.

From the 1960s on, the Joker would continue to be defined by his gimmicks, which either dealt out death or could incapacitate enemies so that he could kill them if he chose-- though usually, being the Joker, he had to try the old death-trap schtick, which also qualifies as a VARIED mode of repetition.

 

 More later.