Generic Conventions and Genre Evolution

Rick Altman's discussion of intra- and intergeneric processes of genre in his book The American Film Musical (1989) attempts to correct oversights in previous genre theory. Altman is highly critical of the fact that genre theorists have tended to talk about the history of genres in a very compartmentalised manner. When outlining the history of a genre and looking at the way it evolves, traditional theorists such as Thomas Schatz (1981) and William Wright (1975) have tended to look at genres as being entirely separate from each other. Hence, when looking at generic evolution, later genre films are assumed to build on earlier films of the same genre and no others. In fact, Altman's examination of the problem of "defining the corpus" makes it clear that many approaches have been even more deficient, concentrating on only a small range of texts within the genre. Schatz's examination of Westerns in Hollywood Genres (1981), which focusses almost exclusively on the work of John Ford, is a good example of this problem.

Altman argues that such a single-minded approach ignores the considerable cross-pollination that occurs across genres. Hybrid genres, as Altman points out, have been around a long time: he cites various examples, including western/musicals dating as far back as the singing cowboys of the thirties and gangster/musicals such as Guys and Dolls. To suggest that the evolution of a genre is not going to be effected significantly by a hybridisation with other genres' forms and conventions is to bury ones head in the sand. After all, almost all classical Hollywood studio directors almost worked in more than one genre: Howard Hawks directed westerns, screwball comedies, and science fiction films; and even John Ford found time for the occaisional non-western project. Therefore, anyone arguing that thematic and plot motifs do not cross from genre to genre must abandon all notions of auteurism and work on the assumption that even the most gifted of directors will succumb completely to generic forms.

To look in more detail at the way in which these intergeneric influences affaect generic evolution it is necessary to pause for a moment to look in more detail at the main thrust of Altman's argument. Traditional genre theory, Altman argues, has tripped up not only through uncertain definitions of generic content (the "corpus" referred to before), but through a fundamental confusion about generic definitions. Altman points out that genres are usually defined in terms of either certain signs (taking the western as an example, the guns, horses, wagons, towns, landscapes, or even the western stars such as John Wayne or Clint Eastwood) or certain plots and themes (such as Wright's notions of the western's classic stories). Altman labels the former group the semantic elements and the latter the syntactic, and argues that genre theory needs to keep the distinction clearly in mind if it is to come to terms with issues such as generic evolution, and cross-genre pollination in particular.

Altman suggests a basic model of genre creation using these terms. He argues that genres start out with a set of semantic elements, and only achieve true genre status when they complete a process of evolving an accompanying syntax. Altman is intelligent enough to point out the limited scope of this interpretation. After all, the syntactic and semantic elements both continue to shift after this process is completed. Nevertheless, the idea makes sense. Syntactic likenesses between films are subtle, especially considering that the classical Hollywood paradigm limits the range of syntactic options. Semantic similarities, meanwhile, are unmistakable, and therefore porvide a stronger basis for notions of a genre to begin to appear. Westerns must, of necessity, grow out of the setting (and hence associated semantics) of the old west. Musicals, likewise, must first and foremost involve music.

Why, when developing a model of such usefullness in defining genres and explaining their evolution, does Altman worry at all about intergeneric influences? The answer is that this semantic / syntactic apporach requires intergeneric processes to make sense, even as it provides a framework in which such processes can be better understood. After all, if Altman's approach were looked at strictly intragenerically, genres would require a long, slow, formation period as they evolved a syntax to accompany their semantics. Thinking intergenerically, however, we can see that another approach is available. A set of promising semantics simply hijack existing an existing syntactic framework from another genre.

This is a crucial concept, if only because it might finally allow genre theorists to finally come to terms with science fiction films (a subject upon which Schatz is notably silent). After all, science fiction is perhaps one of the most easily recognised of genres (there is surely much more public awareness of science fiction as a discrete genre than there is of screwball comedy), yet older theorists have never quite come to terms with it. A large part of the reason is that science fiction has resisted any attempt at definition based on syntax: science fiction exists almost entirely as a set of semantics (and a loose one at that). There is, simply, no syntactic framework existent in science fiction. It is a parasitical genre, relying on hybrids between its semantics and the syntactic frameworks taken from elsewhere.

Sometimes the source can be classic literature: we have have updates of Homer in 2001: A Space Odyssey or Defoe's "Robinson Crusoe" in Enemy Mine. More often, though, the hybrids are between science fiction and other popular genres: hence we have science fiction / horror films (Alien); science fiction / war films (Star Wars, Aliens); science fiction / westerns (Outland was pitched by Peter Hyams as "high noon in outer space," while Gene Roddenberry's original Star Trek concept was a "wagon train to the stars"); even science fiction / film noir (about the only unpretentious definition for "cyberpunk" texts I've heard).

In recent years, however, such hybridisation has been occuring everywhere. The once completely separate genres are beginning to seem about as secure as the Titanic's famed watertight compartments. Some critics see this phenomenon as a result of the increasing creative bankruptcy of Hollywood: others, such as Jim Collins (1995), see it as an inevitable result of the increasing media awareness of the post-modern audience. Since neither suggested cause is expected to go away, it seems likely that the prominence of hybrid films is likely to increase (though the phenomenon's greatest realisation may have occured as far back as 1983, with Timerider, which managed to combine elements from science fiction, westerns, and - wait for it - motorcycle movies).

Hybrids have been around a long time, as has already been noted. Yet there does seem to be something different with the hybrids of today. So frantic has been the remixing in recent years that the search for new combinations has led to highly specific hybridisation. Instead of thinking in terms of generic hybrids, films today are pitched in terms of meshing of individual films: the "meets" films identified by Collins. We might describe, for example, The Mask as "Who Framed Roger Rabbit meets Ace Ventura." In some cases (lending unfortunate credence to the "creative bankrupty" argument) the process can be reduced to merely remaking the film in a new location. Examples are Waterworld ("Mad Max 2 on water") or the recent spate of "Die Hard on a" films: Die Hard on a ship (Under Siege); on a train (Under Siege 2); on a plane (Passenger 57, Die Hard 2); even on a mountain (Cliffhanger). Such descripitons are partly driven by film companies desiring to associate their films with other popular successes, yet their is enough use of them by critics to reflect the fact that syntactic theft has now reached a point where very specific syntaxes are being lifted. As Roger Ebert (1991, p. 426) complained: "Predator begins like Rambo and ends like Alien, and in today's Hollywood, that's creativity."

There is validity in such criticism. Yet to dwell upon the films that use such syntactic theft in a manner that approaches plagiarism is to distort the picture: there are plenty of films that use such techniques imaginatively. Paul Verhoeven's Total Recall is one of the most aggresive examples of this style. Instead of using a syntax from another genre and disguising it intact within new semantics, Verhoeven's film breaks the previous syntaxes into fragments. These syntactic fragments are used like a constructor set to put together an entirely new story form. In terms of plot, it is fair to say that there have been few Hollywood films as original as this: Verhoeven's three scriptwriters have taken the notion of implanted memories (notable in that it counts neither as a dream or a flashback, Hollywoods traditional forms of alternate realities) and weaved an incredibly intricate structure around it. Yet when the plot is taken in small sections, clear precedents can be identified. Many of the spy sections take after James Bond films, as we follow our spy hero through exotic, unfamiliar locations to an eventual climax in an improbably large hidden structure (which explodes at the climax). Other sections recall westerns, with the frontier setting sporting saloons, bar girls, and cowering, mistreated settlers who need defending.

Verhoeven's earlier Robocop is an even more interesting example. The film is a classic hybrid, most obviously between science fiction elements and those from the police vengeance genre. Yet the film has other precedents too. The figure of Robocop, with his super refined marksmanship, is a classic example of the western gunfighter in a new setting: an analogy made most explicit through Robocop's western style spinning of his gun before placing it in his holster. Looking at the film's genealogy we can identify western influences on both sides. The police elements of the film, for example, are largely based upon Dirty Harry and the sub-genre of sequels and imitations it inspired: yet Dirty Harry was very much a film that took Clint Eastwood's spaghetti-western persona and placed it in a contemporary setting. On the science fiction side, we can see the film essentially as a reworking of James Cameron's The Terminator with the robot transformed to a good guy (notably, for Terminator 2 Cameron too adopted this plot device, perhaps realising that syntactic habit was leading audiences to identify with Schwarzenneger's robot more than Linda Hamilton's intended hero). Yet prominent amongst Cameron's inspirations must surely have been Michael Crichton's Westworld, from which he took the figure of the relentless, unstoppable robot (like the Terminator, Yul Brynner's gunfighter is set on fire before rising from the grave and attacking again).

What is interesting about Robocop is the way it takes its "vengeance" plot and repositions it completely. Such plots may have started with westerns, but once they moved into an urban milieu (with Dirty Harry and Death Wish) they inevitably took on a right wing political position. In the west, when society was unable to punish the villains, it was in the context of a setting where law had not yet arrived. Yet when such a plot arrives in an urban setting, the law is present, and must therefore be shown to be completely ineffective before we can accept the hero's actions. The genre thus becomes a very political one, attacking ineffective justice systems and calling for a tougher attitude to crime. In Robocop, we have just such a plot (albeit with the new twist of the hero tracking down his own killers), yet it largely negates this reading. Firstly, the desire for vengeance is associated with the regaining of humanity, effectively distracting the audience from noting that our cop is actually operating outside the law. Similarly, while Robocop does present a justice system that clearly is not working, it alters the political undertones by prescribing blame on the traditional post-modern villain, big business. The genre's traditional "get tough on crime" message is eliminated through the film's ridicule of the sub-machine gun carrying robot ED-209. Thus, the filmmakers have achieved a near complete reversal of a very politicised syntax by merging it with new elements.

Classical, or near classical, forms of genres still exist. In the early nineties we have seen the western reemerge after years of hiding under the semantics of other genres. Yet it is a more knowing form we see return. Clint Eastwood's Unforgiven, for example, gives us a drastically altered version of the basic vengeance plot. While I would not like to take this argument to the point of claiming Unforgiven was directly influenced by Robocop, I think it is true that the prevailing mood of moral uncertainty created by some of these generic hybrids had an influence on Eastwood's film, and helped ease its audience acceptance. Thus in Unforgiven we have what might have been legitimate basis for applauding the violent elimination of villains (the brothel patron's disgraceful treatment of prostitutes, the sherriff's murder of Eastwood's old riding partner) subsumed in a cloud of moral ambiguity. The way Eastwood stages the killings (they are slow and messy) leads us to pity even the despicable sherriff.

In summary, we see the western vengeance plot move across to police films, then across to science fiction, and then back to the western, with its political overtones altering each step of the way. We also see the emergence of a new post-modern cinema that strikes new effects from interesting combinations of disparate elements. Clearly such films require the adoption of critical frameworks that pay attention to intergeneric influences. Altman's discussion of semantic and syntactic plot elements provides a clear example of just such a framework.

References

Altman, Rick, 1989, The American Film Musical, BFI, London, pp 90-102 & 110-119.

Collins, Jim, "When the Legend Becomes Hyperconcious, Print the. . ." Architectures of Excess, Routledge, New York & London, pp 125 - 156.

Ebert, Roger, 1991, Roger Ebert's Movie Home Companion, Andrews & McMeel, Kansas City, p. 426.

Schatz, Thomas, 1981, Hollywood Genres: Formulas, Filmmaking and the Studio System, Random House, New York.

Wright, Will, 1975, Six Guns and Society: a Structural Study of the Western, University of California Press, Berkely.

Bibliography

Cohen, Ralph, 1987, "Do Postmodern Genres Exist?", Genre, vol XX, nos 3-4, Fall-Winter, pp 241-257.

Neale, Steve, 1990, "Questions of Genre," Screen, vol 31, no 1, Spring.

Filmography

Alien, 1979, Ridley Scott

Aliens, 1986, James Cameron

Cliffhanger, 1993, Renny Harlin

Death Wish, 1974, Michael Winner

Die Hard, 1988, John McTiernan

Die Hard 2, 1990, Renny Harlin

Dirty Harry, 1971, Don Siegel

Enemy Mine, 1985, Wolfgang Petersen

Guys and Dolls, 1955, Joseph L. Mankiewicz

Mad Max 2, 1981, George Miller

Outland, 1981, Peter Hyams

Passenger 57, 1992, Kevin Hooks

Predator, 1987, John McTiernan

Rambo, 1985, George P. Cosmatos

Robocop, 1987, Paul Verhoeven

Star Wars, 1977, George Lucas

2001: A Space Odyssey, 1968, Stanley Kubrick

The Terminator, 1984, James Cameron

Terminator 2, 1991, James Cameron

Timerider, 1983, William Dear

Totall Recall, 1990, Paul Verhoeven

Who framed Roger Rabbit, 1988, Robert Zemeckis

Under Siege, 1993, Andrew Davis

Unforgiven, 1992, Clint Eastwood

Waterworld, 1995, Kevin Reynolds

Westworld, 1973, Michael Crichton