Genres Are: Ineffective

What a dumb title.

Listen! Audio version here! (Actual blog starts at ~2:25)


      I'm back here again discussing genres, attempting to debunk my own former belief on what they are. This time, no talk of the ultra-risque nature of things. I intend to look at a more basic aspect of genres. Let's see if that happens.

     In my review of The Monogatari Series, I attempted in many ways to convey how shell-shocked it was leaving me (and how it has left me). A lot of my perception of the show before watching was based on its genre labeling. I recently watched a great video that brought this up again.

     I'll reiterate, this is NOT about The Monogatari Series. I won't touch that again until... my next post!

     To the point, I've changed my stance on what a genre is, or rather, why it's so ineffectively doing it's job. We tend to get caught up on the name of a genre, instead of why we find ourselves drawn to it. Many times when someone is told to define one, they go the technical route. The questions that are asked are along the lines of "How is the story told, and from what point of view?" "How is the cinematography?" "What's the setting?" In this moment, I believe those are the wrong questions. The answers to those questions can still carry their weight, but the right questions are lost -- the biggest one being, "Why does someone choose this genre?"

     Why does someone choose entertainment for that matter? It seems like a dumb question, but I think I have to start here. We choose entertainment because we're looking for enjoyment. Right then, whether we want an escape, a challenge or even a bonding session, we want to walk away higher than we arrived. We look for a wide range of things, but they all boil down to feeling better. The more specific question then would be "What will entertain me right now?" Again, as simple as it sounds, I think this is where we get lost. I can say this confidently because any and all of us have defended something we like -- we've validated it -- because of it's technical legitimacy. Just as there are wrong questions, these defenses can be the wrong answers.

     I'm just as guilty of this as anyone. I've defended my favorite stories because "everything had a purpose," or "the cliches weren't there, and it told a new story." In truth, none of that ever mattered; that was extra ammunition I chose to fire into the sky. It effectively did nothing. When I was as deep as I could be in the moment, when my enjoyment levels were sky high and I was ready to proclaim an experience as "one of the best things ever," it didn't matter that a character wasn't making progress. It also didn't matter that the special effects were over-exaggerated and non-believable, or that there was a gaping plot hole. All that mattered was that it was fulfilling.

     For instance, let's look at the mockumentary. Shows like The Office, Parks and Recreation and even Reno 911!. If you're a fan of the genre, it's easy to say that you like it because it's told as if it were a legitimate documentary. I would argue that's not the case, and that's the fault of the naming of the genre. If a television show creator decided he or she wanted to mimic the experience that these mockumentaries create, they might trip up in the same place.

     I'm a fan of The Office, a huge fan. The charm of that show is not that it has a seemingly non-directed camera crew, it's in the moments. I like The Office because it makes me laugh, and at times it makes me want to cry. My favorite moment is when-
*Spoiler*
Michael is putting the chair back together with Holly, and his goofy, child-like nature is, in this moment and at all times, the epitome cringe-y. There's an unexpected turn, though, when Holly joins in, not out of pity, but because to her that's a fun person. There's this genuine connection, and the bliss that comes with it is impossible to explain.
Also, in that episode, Dwight convinces Holly that Kevin is mentally handicapped, and Kevin interprets her reaction to this (unknown to him) as her "having a thing for him."
*End Spoiler*

     I'm not dumb, I know how effective the camera work is in these moments. With it, we can remove Holly from this cramped shot, and get the wrong idea of what she's thinking. We can take Kevin to another room by himself and get his honest to God input. But that's not what we love, nor why we came to this show. We love the characters and how they interact. It's the interactions themselves that matter, not how these interactions are captured. Again, these methods can still carry their weight, but they're still the answers to the wrong questions.

     I actually think I came to this conclusion a few years ago. After I had watched Fullmetal Alchemist and played Final Fantasy VII for the umpteenth time, I was beginning to wonder why I couldn't find any other media that I enjoyed in the same way. Fullmetal Alchemist was a critically-acclaimed shounen anime, so I began looking for more shounen anime with critical acclaim. This turned into a fruitless search. I found shows that didn't entertain me, and much the same with Final Fantasy VII. Outside of the Final Fantasy series, I found nothing in the same genre (JRPG) that was able to hold my interest. I first came to the conclusion that these were two examples of masterpieces and that trying to make them my standard was unrealistic. Though that thought carries some truth, it's not the complete truth. As funny as it sounds, I watched FMA and played FFVII yet again, but with a different angle. This time, I wanted to figure out what I like so much about them -- what made them so dear to me.

     I found the same things about both the show and the game: I loved the characters and the small moment between them that would eventually become infinitely important. I liked the bad guys who's motives were twisted and selfish and completely unsustainable. I liked the exposition and preparation before the fights more than the fights themselves (when they weren't a corny mess), and I loved the hopeless endings. Yet the biggest thing I found was that none of these things were encapsulated by the genre, and I knew they weren't unique to it, either.

     You see, the fault in my initial search for more games and television was that I was comparing the means, not the content. I compared Final Fantasy VII's battle system to other games', and I looked for anime that had a low-fantasy setting like Fullmetal Alchemist -- neither of which were things I considered big parts of why I liked them. This was the path, though, that I was led down by Netflix's recommendation algorithm, and other "recommended for you" sections across the internet.

     For similar reasons, I consider Rocket League, the soccer game where the players each control their own rocket-propelled car, a party game, and not a sports game. It is *literally* a game about sports, but that's not how it's experienced. People who do not like sports game tend to like Rocket League, and though that is a testament to the quality of the game, it's more of a sign to me that it is simply not played as a sports game.

     If genre tags were used in this sort of way that compared show themes and levels of importance in different areas, this method would have worked wonders for me. However, all that the JRPG video game tag tells me is that combat is most likely turn-based, represented by numbers, and is backed by a long gameplay time expectancy in one playthrough. Similarly, the shounen genre is one that is aimed at adolescent men (because apparently all adolescent men like the same thing *eye roll*), featured some level of action, was animated and usually told in first person. These in no way mean that the show does or does not have what I want: quick, intense and conclusive actions scenes, witty dialogue, a love story (insightful or not, I don't actually care) and two cups of humor (spare me the puns).

     This is what I meant about being worried about the means and not the content.
This game is played in first person. Does that mean it's funny?
This show uses documentary-esque camerawork. Does that mean that there's going to be a love story?
Of course neither of these are solid assumptions.

     Like I stated earlier, I'm fully aware that these traits are important. Sometimes you want to feel like you are the main character, in which case you do want a First-person experience (or if you have a god-complex, look for a sandbox or sim game). Or maybe you feel the mockumentary gives the show a realistic vibe, like it's really happening, and you currently want something in the realm of possibility. But conversely, say I want a funny game. How am I supposed to know if I should go with the FPS or the RPG? More important still, what style of comedy will it be ? Even if I get my hands on a comedy FPS (all hail Borderlands!) how much is it gonna suck when I find the game is too raunchy for me, and it's filled with puns! And no character interaction -- Just a bunch of one-liners. Yuk! (Again, I actually love Borderlands, this is just an example.)

     The truth is, our genre tags are amazingly ineffective of prefacing an experience. Whether or not we realize it, our deepest enjoyment comes from subtleties that can't be covered by the broad blanket categories that genres use. There are different types of comedies, and some dramas have more light-hearted moments than others, for example. Though we've tried to remedy this through more specific tags ("light-hearted comedy," "raunchy comedy" etc.) the effectiveness of these tags has hardly improved.

     As of late, my favorite things have been surprises. I've been force-fed that Sci-Fi is action packed and showy, as well as disconnected from reality, instead of the dramatic and heartwrenching realism that is Steins;Gate. The Monogatari series features sexual situations and a romantic interest, so it got the Ecchi/RomCom tag slapped on, when it is, in fact, an insightful, thought-provoking series riddled with deeply sewn comedy. I do not care from what angle the story is told. Instead, what *is* the story? That's the only label I care about.

     Unfortunately, I have no remedy to recommend for this problem. On the consumer side of things, we're stuck to following our favorite directors and producers, gamemakers and specific communities who share our tastes. But I do not know how to label things any better. The best thing that I can think of is to get better algorithms to track patters of who likes what. It's tricky, and I think we have to start over fresh if we want a better system, and who's going to take on that task?

     I'll sing my praises now: Hats off to Extra Credits for bringing this up. Genre labels, in my honest opinion, are way too focused on the technical side of things. They suggest new names be put in place, and that maybe we come up with more genres to replace our overly general ones currently in place. Again, I have no answer, just too much pulp.