The reversible essay
or
So many questions, Pandora's box full of 'em
by Jeff Georgeson

Two small items of import I've noticed as I've tried to get this site up and functioning: First, and possibly related to the second, is that I've seemed to choose primarily creation myths (or, perhaps more properly, motifs) for the bulk of my admittedly rather simplistic reviews; and second, and a magnitude higher in importance, is that I'm floundering in my attempt to define "new" mythology -- which is, of course, the whole point of the site.

Now, I'll grant myself that no one else in my limited knowledge has defined it, either; even Joseph Campbell himself decided that we don't and, in his opinion, couldn't have a new mythology yet, although we need one. (It probably ought to be asked, then, who am I to be looking for new mythology when such a luminance does not believe it exists, and my answer would probably lie along the lines that even patent clerks can discover the theory of relativity, but that is another essay for another time.) But I have this sense the new mythology is growing up around us, or that at least its seeds have been sewn, and thus ...

Still, I am as flabbergasted as a rhinoceros in the Arctic as to what direction I should take in these reviews of films and other works, trying to suss what is mythic and what is not. The biggest difficulty thus far is discovering the difference between a "story" and a "myth." Those in the audience with a penchant for stating the obvious will observe that myths are tales of gods and heroes (or goddesses and heroines, take your pick) and stories are simple fictions made up to amuse and teach, but woven of lesser stuff than myths. Another such astute observer might remark that myths are, on some level, believed to be true, either literally or metaphorically, whereas stories are fictions through and through. And these observers would, obviously, be correct as far as they went. However, these distinctions blur as one moves "up" the realm of the stories and down from the Olympus of myths. What, for instance, are fairy tales? When the Brothers Grimm went about collecting tales from villages and hovels deep in the woods, they certainly ran into folk who believed, at least figuratively, in stories of wicked witches who lived in gingerbread houses and in trolls, goblins, and enchantments. But those are not stories of gods, of heroines immortal, so how can they be mythic? (There is obviously much deeper ground to be examined when discussing fairy tales, but again, another story, another time.) And now that some of these have been Disneyfied and Spielbergized beyond recognition, how do they stand even the slightest chance of being taken as elements of mythology? And what about all the "real" myths that have been bastardized by Hollywood? There's no way Clash of the Titans or Hercules could be taken as mythic, is there? These myths became less than mythic long ago, of course, and therein lies the first breadcrumb on our search: As myths lose touch with human society, and as they fall behind the times, they become lesser and lesser, eventually spreading so thin as to become mere stories, obvious fictions to be told without the depth and grandeur they once had.

This also allows us (or me, really, but if you're still reading, us will do) to step back and see our first signpost on the road to defining a "new myth": Something of great depth and grandeur, it speaks to human society, and is at least metaphorically believable; ideally, this new myth could also adapt quickly to social changes and keep up with an ever-rapidly-changing world.

Indeed, it is possible that any new mythology would have to contain this element, for anything here "today only" will almost literally be gone tomorrow. This is one of the reasons Campbell believed we couldn't have a working mythology today: This world, this society is too topsy-turvy, and no mythos could take root. I, however, see no reason why a new mythology wouldn't be so "of our times" to be highly adaptable and changeable.

Another thought I have along these lines is that, while most mythologies deal for the most part with the past, why couldn't be new mythology deal primarily with the future? By future I don't mean the end of the world, which indeed most major mythologies do have something to say about, but rather a working, a "we still exist in a believably familiar" future? Part of the reason mythologies/religions have difficulty working properly in this modern age is that they rely on a sense of mystery, on "possibly true" explanations, to tie the myth to our "real" world; this is at least part of the reason myths are believed by a society, and this leads (in part) to their functioning properly (for an explanation of this "functioning properly," see Joseph Campbell, Creative Mythology, 608-624). The havoc we have caused, however, to any working mythology relying on explorations of awe and mystery is due to modern science explaining away all of these in a completely secular, non-mythic experience kind of way. Now, I'm not saying there's no sense of grandeur to these explanations, and elegance to them, but there is no sense of the mythic, no religious experience related to them. We seem to be conditioned to think of anything scientific as humdrum, as boring once it is discovered. It is just a fact, to be believed with no religious awe or mystery, thanks, just a plain little fact to be shelved and numbered and merely forgotten.

But the future is something our science can only guess that, and thus it could contain that sense the possibility, of awe and mystery, of tales perhaps true in a way that really connects to human society without being easily explained away.

Now before you jump to conclusions and say, "Oh Gawd, he's about to say science fiction is mythology," let me continue and clarify. Some stories of the future could be mythic, could reach out and become a part of the new mythology, could reach the collective unconsciousness. But not all, and not even many. Even as only a tiny fraction of stories told about the past are mythic, only a tiny fraction of stories about the future could be mythic. But this still leads back to my original question: How you know which stories are mythic? I'll begin to feel like Ouroboros, going in circles and eating my own tail, if there's much more of this.

Let's take as hopeful candidates the films I've reviewed. At the start of this essay I mentioned that many of them are creation stories: The Matrix is about the coming of the One who saves the world and begins to re-create it; Serial Experiments: Lain is about the newly created world of the Wired and our world's relation to it. Even Ghost in the Shell and Blade Runner are about creation, in a sense, although more about new life rather than worlds. But is every story about creation automatically a myth?

My gut instinct is to say no, but then I can't think of any I'd drop out. Frankenstein would be the prototype, perhaps, and I certainly couldn't argue it away; it is one of the most enduring tales ever written, retold in countless filmed and unfilmed versions over many, many years. Perhaps there is something inherent in a story of creation, especially creation of life itself from what we think of as inorganic material, that strikes a deep, deep chord and is thus mythic. (This leads to the interesting and frightening idea that our next myths are myths told from the perspective of gods, if gods in fact tell myths about themselves; and then another set of myths from the perspective of the creatures we create. But, again, another essay ...) This doesn't seem likely, but, as I said, I cannot think of any examples to disprove it.

Perhaps I'm confusing a work which explains a moral dilemma with a myth -- but then, is not one function of myths to give us answers to moral dilemmas (see, again, Joseph Campbell's Creative Mythology)?

Or perhaps I should turn the question on its head and ask: What makes the films I've chosen just stories, and not myth? Ahh, but I'll have to think on that one. For now, this essay has gone on long enough. I will return for Part 2: Mythless Stories before Bedtime, or I Wanna Be a Myth when I Grow Up. Until then ...