Tropes are those tools we use to tell stories. They’re ideas so ingrained and familiar that you don’t have to work that hard to understand them, and as a tool, they are just part of the trade. Humans have been writing stories for thousands upon thousands of years, and there really is nothing new to be done. Just variations of what already is. It is virtually impossible to subvert a trope without stumbling into another trope, and that isn’t a bad thing. Tropes themselves are not bad.

But creating an interesting story is all about creating with intention, and the insidious aspect of tropes is that they often pop up because they’re expected, not because they work or are necessary. My recent thoughts on The Incredibles 2 can be summarized thusly: A lot of tropes without intent equals a functional but forgettable story. This is a bit of a bummer since I love the first film precisely because of how carefully considered its chosen story beats are. There is nothing in The Incredibles that is there simply to be there. Everything, every line, every joke, every cliché, every subversion is designed to fit together, creating such a tightly constructed story that nothing is wasted. Incredibles 2 is just sort of there, and that’s okay. But that’s all it is.

Okay.

But I’m not interested in picking on any particular story. Especially a story whose only real crime is being an okay follow up to an amazing film. I’m here to talk about the perils of tropes. At my writer’s group (DFW Writers Workshop), we always have a steady stream of new writers, and one thing a lot of new writers (and experienced writers for that matter) do is imitate. We all do to some degree. It’s impossible not to. But imitation without intent is when we run into story beats that function without engaging. They don’t exist with thought, but because of expectations.

“Why does your superhero have to be conflicted?”

“Why is the protagonist’s marriage falling apart?”

“Why do these characters dislike each other?” 

“Just why?”

Now, the obvious answer to these types of questions is to talk about the events of the story.

“My superhero is conflicted because he worries about his family.”

“The marriage is falling apart because they want different things.”

“Because they’re jerks.”

“Just because.”

But those aren’t answers. Those are events, plot motion. Great stories are usually more than that. We’re often told that conflict drives stories, and it is a lot harder to create interesting stories without conflict (though it can be done), but conflict isn’t enough. Not to get back to criticizing The Incredibles 2 but it is most recent example. In the first film, why is Mr. Incredible so down? Because he’s a superhero not allowed to be super, which is the obvious answer, but the deeper answer is that he has a deep compulsion to help people, a love of the adventure of the job, and just a general joy in getting to use his abilities in a productive way. This is contrasted against his job as a nameless cog in an office whose job is to literally deny people the help they need. His ideal, the job he was once among the best of, was to stand in the spotlight, saving people through his outstanding abilities. His new life is everything the opposite of that. It’s not just that Bob Parr has a crappy job. It’s that THIS crappy job is the furthest thing from being a superhero.

Every aspect of The Incredibles is like this, and while it isn’t so intrusive that you’re reminded you’re watching a carefully constructed story, it is all there to be scene and absorbed. Yes, the crappy job, the mid-life crisis, the family conflict, the returning villain with an axe to grind, and much more are all tropes, but they are carefully chosen and molded. Incredibles 2 just sort of grabbed whatever was available (harried father, TV-themed mind control villain, teen angst, etc.) and jammed them together. They work, but there is nothing there to make them uniquely Incredibles.

At the DFW Writers Conference two weeks ago, acclaimed writer Scott Westerfeld gave a keynote about POV. His observation about clichés was that they don’t really belong to any character and that’s why they’re uninteresting. To paraphrase a great quote: “The basement was as dark as a cave.” works, but doesn’t tell you anything about the character who is experiencing it. But “The basement was as black as a Hollywood agent’s soul.” says everything.

The best moments in Incredibles 2 do that. I’d argue the only outstanding sequence in the sequel is Jack-Jack versus the raccoon because it’s the only scene that’s uniquely suited to the world of the film. It’s also full of creative energy. It’s several tropes: Child vs. Pest, Temperamental Child, and Superpowers, all put together in a way that makes it something you wouldn’t see anywhere else.

A creator only reaches the next level when they start applying tropes with intent. That doesn’t have to mean subversion or challenging the expected. It just means applying with intent and not out of reflex. New writers are often so busy learning the basics that they don’t have the energy or ability to focus on that, and that’s just part of the process of becoming a better creator. We can’t hit a homerun our first time at bat. But as their skill improves, so should their understanding of the deeper mechanisms of storytelling. Although some will never get past the stage of writing well and applying tropes as expected, which isn’t the worst thing.

But every writer (new or experienced) can pause to reflect now and then about the tropes they’re using. Otherwise, even a skilled creator can end up falling back into the expected without considering why? There’s nothing wrong with doing the expected or not doing it, but do either because you want to, not because you think you have to. Or, worse, because you never really thought about it at all.

Keelah Se’lai

Fighting the good fight, Writing the good write,

LEE