A magic trick, at its core, is visual storytelling. As a teenager I was very into magic, more specifically sleight of hand - cards and coins. You would assume that when experiencing magic now as an audience member, this would somewhat ruin the experience. ‘Oh that misdirection was this kind of palming technique, or that false shuffle places the card at the top of the deck right where it’s needed.’ However, in having a (very) basic understanding of how a thing is done, only serves to heighten my experience when it is done perfectly, and certainly makes me all the more amazed when I’m faced with an ‘unexplainable’ act. Yes of course knowing all the secrets could dampen the experience, but being transported away into suspension of disbelief based on the fact that the experience as a whole is far greater than the sum of its exquisitely crafted parts, is what great storytelling can do. To quote the already well over quoted Fox Mulder ‘I want to believe.’
This is a perfect way to explain the magic of film and television. Having produced short films myself, worked on set, seen through a process of pre production, production, post production and as a screenwriter myself. You develop a basic understanding first hand of certain steps, certain challenges involved in the process. This is also what makes it all the more magical when these behind the scenes processes disappear from view and as an audience member, I am totally engrossed by the story at hand. For 90% of Netflix’s The OA, this was the case. The other 10% was, sadly, a very pullable thread - and once you start pulling? The whole thing, for me, completely unravels. Our magicians in question Brit Marling and Zal Batmanglij seem to have sold themselves short on the basic sleight of hand technique, the foundation of their trick - story.
On paper the whole situation seems idyllic - long form storytelling, episodes are as long as they need to be, very little corporate or marketing interference, a real passion project of two intelligent and hardworking creatives with enough money to make it a reality and the perfect platform on which to distribute.
So why then, after watching all eight chapters, did myself and my partner instantly dive into conversation about why above all else, The OA felt...genuinely offensive.
Disclaimer: I know nothing of what it is to be part of the disenfranchised youth of america, part of a minority (ethnic, gender, sexuality), a friend or family member of a victim of kidnap, long term captivity or abuse, or what it could possibly be like to experience a mass shooting of any kind. I therefore cannot speak on behalf of anyone aforementioned.
I would however, be interested to know the opinion of someone who has experienced any of these, on The OA.
I’m not saying that difficult subject matter should necessarily be portrayed realistically, often it may be more suitable not to. What I am saying is that I feel the show had the opportunity to raise questions, to inform discourse around the important thematic material it uses, but chose not to because of either the blinkered disposition of the creators, or a lack of ability to do so, (or possibly both.)
In his introduction to his Dark Tower novel series, Stephen King states that there are two types of novelist (I extend this to storytellers of any sort.) When considering every event and detail of their story, the writer either asks the question ‘what would writing this sort of story mean to me?’ or they ask ‘what would writing this sort of story mean to others?’ He also states that both types are equally selfish. What it feels like we have with The OA is a story seeming to be written with the meaning for others in mind, when in actual fact it is a very personal piece. This is very clearly shown in our protagonist herself. She relays a story to a group of people, who are desperately searching for meaning within their own lives, the sense of purpose it gives them has the potential to be a constructive force for good, until ultimately the show leads us to believe that the story could very well all be fabricated, and yet it still turns out to be a powerful force for good in the end anyway. This premise in itself is strong, it questions the use of stories in modern society. The execution of the premise and the thematic choices of the show, end up forming a piece of work that is far more concerned with appearing meaningful, than actually having substance of its own.
Co-creator Zac Batmanglij has been quoted saying: “I guess I believe the trauma in her story is true. Maybe she couldn’t tell her story as it actually happened, but she experienced something. I don’t think the details matter. I think that there are lots of different interpretations.”
I would beg to differ, on all fronts, to all people, I would say that details do matter. Especially when it comes to writing, structuring and implementing a script. Certainly one of this magnitude. From the beginning, and then throughout the series, we are lead to believe that this story is a mystery. The reason for mystery within any story, is to some extent, gain clarification by the end, of the unknown entities posed at the beginning. We follow our ‘investigator(s)’ towards a conclusion, that ultimately reveals something about our characters or our perception of the content. As writers and producers, Marling and Batmanglij should have been aware of this. In almost every interview, both creators of the show play on this ‘mystery’ and ‘subjectivism’ which leads into every interviewer asking about a second series. Here is where my patience as a viewer runs dry and my inner sceptic goes into a hulk-like rage. Leaving not a few, not some, but all of the initial questions of the series unanswered is irresponsible storytelling. The fact that the creators have stated multiple times that they came up with all the answers, but chose not to share any of them, shows a lack of respect for their viewers as well as a lack of confidence in their own material. (I may well return to this idea at a later date considering the current state of the Star Wars saga.) Certain narrative elements are introduced, but then it is though the writers lose confidence in the idea, so back away slowly and follow another question, then repeat, until many mysterious questions are posed, and left that way. Posed. This undermines the very brave, well intentioned premise of the whole piece. To explain the explainable, makes the unexplained, magical. To not explain even the explainable, makes the unexplained, vacuous.
This vacuous nature of the clusterfuck of loose threads, doesn’t mean the viewer can place their own meaning on what happens, but that they must. Therefore we get very little meaning or weight from the actions of our characters themselves (inadvertently undermining the strong performances from all the cast.) Ultimately making the finale fall flat, offensively flat. With no foreshadowing whatsoever, without explanation or apparent necessity, an unknown teenage student begins to open fire at the school cafeteria. Despite this being perhaps a soberingly realistic view of how such a terrible event could unfold, this feels highly inappropriate for the themes discussed in the story up to that point.
Had the apparently fabricated story of The OA questioned the ongoing decisions of these five listeners, showing that every decision they make leads them down a new stream, to a new reality, and that is the new dimension in which they find themselves. That they were blind to the power of their own choices, but now they see the control they have over their own lives. Could be linked to the sense of captivity one might feel in life, leading them to extreme acts of violence, an important lesson for the angry and frustrated Steve perhaps? Sadly, as with other potential waypoints of meaning, or cultural context, this is suggested and then lost.
It is exactly this cultural context that Marling and Batmanglij seem to have overlooked. The consideration of the connotations, or any reasoning behind using a school shooting as a narrative device within a fantastical mystery story of hope and bravery, seems non existent. The horrendous reality of such an event, seems belittled, even mocked, by our five ‘heroes’ performing the five movements learned from those that have cheated death.
I want to be misdirected by fiction. I do not want to be misled by it. Our faith in stories comes from the fact that they are constructed, iterated over and over, a refinement of layers of creativity and craft weaving dramatic occurrences and characters into a meaningful ends. We crave the deception, the narrative game, we need some form of reveal. A viewer wants to feel rewarded for their commitment of both money and time to such a story. As a viewer of The OA, I felt taken for granted. As I sit waiting for the magician to reveal the card I picked at the beginning of the trick, the magician begins sword swallowing, then does a headstand, then lights a cigarette and tells us all that the show is over. Belief well spent? Queue curtain.