So between school, work and hospital stuff, we’ve not been writing a lot about OUAT here on Organised Freedom, mostly just going about our respective lives and realizing that for all we absolutely enjoy dissecting pieces of pop-culture and seeing what fortunes we can read in their entrails (we did make a blog for just that purpose, after all), it’s becoming more and more apparent that OUAT is basically a pop-cultural scarecrow, a story-shaped thing propped up in the middle of a field to simulate a thing: oh, certainly it has characters and events which happen one after another each of which affect the characters in different ways but ultimately it’s all straw and borrowed clothes with nary an ounce of flesh beneath.
In the most recent episode, “Ariel”, for instance, we spend half the episode running through OUAT’s abbreviated take on The Little Mermaid, which primarily involves the eponymous mermaid making no massive, existential sacrifices to walk on land so that she can be with her prince and making much about her being unsure she’s willing to tell said prince about how she’s a mermaid so Snow White intervenes to tell her maybe she should tell him the truth. This “will she/won’t she” truth-telling subplot in the flashback sequences is meant, I think, to reflect the episode’s MacGuffin quest to have the cast save Neal in the Cave of Echoes by revealing all sorts of Deep, Dark Secrets to one another (none of which are all that deep or dark to this viewer’s tastes)—the season-long MacGuffin, saving the innocent child who’s been stolen by Peter Pan, being pushed to the side for the time being so that Henry’s biological parents can, I guess, be the ones to save him, avoiding the apparently frightful spectre of single-motherhood being considered heroic in any way, shape or form.
And, y’know. It’s fine. It is what it is. Regina is snarky and pragmatic, Emma is driven but bland, David is a liar we’re supposed to forgive because he’s so noble or whatever and Snow is whatever the plot or the values of the writers need her to be in the moments she appears. The flashback does nothing that two to five seconds of dialogue couldn’t do just as well for the lore of the series and tells us nothing we don’t already know about the main characters, instead introducing new characters to a cast which had recently—and wisely—shrunk its cast down to a handful of main characters. Which, again: it’s fine. That’s just how Once Upon a Time rolls. But again, we’re brought to the point where the flashback tells us nothing we don’t already know about the established characters (Flashback-Snow is ostensibly sweetness and light where Flashback-Regina is a doing her best Ming the Merciless in contrast to her earlier dalliances with Complex Villain With Motivations-dom, the two facets never seeming to meet in any one episode) and adding nothing to the plot except to explain that Snow White doesn’t believe in lies, something the later exposure of Deep Dark Secrets would have done just as well in a fraction of the time.
And I know I keep coming, again and again, back to the question of the way OUAT uses its allotted time and, honestly, it forms the crux of my problem with the show. See, you might not imagine it from how long-winded I can be, but I’m a big proponent of narrative economy: everything that happens—every line of dialog, every twist of the plot, every character interaction, every individual chapter—should have a place in the larger metanarrative if, indeed, a metanarrative is to be had. That’s pretty much the nature of multi-chapter books, after all, and if the show is going to justify spending a full season (or, perhaps, half of one?) on the story of “Emma Swan, et al, shall brave the Lost-esque Neverland to save the son she once gave up”, every episode should see the cast moving toward that goal in one way or another. Instead, each episode offers one digression after another, usually with ostensible villain Peter Pan providing tips on how the heroes can get close enough to him to thwart him or taking diversions to have each character spend an episode explicitly describing their motivations because “save the kidnapped child whom we all love” is apparently insufficient. Each episode is less about the heroes shoring themselves up to fight the villain or finding his secret weaknesses or figuring out how they could convince him to become their ally and more about the writers crafting reasons why the confrontation between Peter Pan and Our Heroes must be put off for another week, which can be interesting for an episode or two while the drama builds but after the sixth, it really begins to feel like fucking about. It’s not to say that I want action action action all the time but after a certain point, something weighty should happen every episode or what was the point of the episode? By the end of each episode, the characters should be at a different point relative to their proximity to their goals, either closer or further away, depending on the interplay between the force the protagonists can bring against the antagonist and vice-versa. Instead, we get a lot of portent and interplay between the protagonists wherein they discuss their interrelationships for episodes at a time, usually with one or more of them asking at one point or another why they’re hanging around talking about their feelings when they would be better served working to achieve their goals (which is to say, overcoming the antagonist and procuring the MacGuffin/saving the damsel), a question we here at OF often ask ourselves. And, again, all of even THAT thin gruel attempt at storytelling falls to the wayside because half of each episode is wasted in flashbacks to other, smaller conflicts which bear no real relation to the plot at hand—even if they did relate to a future plot, it’s that thing again where it could be fixed in a maximum of five minutes in a later episode. “Who is The Goddess Ursula?” “I am! And X years ago, you committed a crime against my kingdom!” “Oh crap, this looks like a conflict we will have to resolve before we move on!” would about cover it.
And it’s not as if OUAT is the first show to try doing this sort of thing; serial television has been the way of things for decades in daytime soap operas; even if we only wanted to apply the serial narrative structure to the fantasy adventure genre, the road has been paved by everything from Buffy to Battlestar Galactica to Lost (which, again, many of the writers worked on). Fair is fair, though, I can’t actually speak to the quality of the metanarratives of Galactica or Lost because there was rarely anything in them to interest me. Indeed, it’s not even as if it’s the writers’ first time at the old serial narrative rodeo. Showrunners Kitsis and Horowitz worked together on the short-lived Tron: Uprising cartoon which followed a small cast of absurdly archetypical characters trying to reach their own goals—goals which come into conflict with one another throughout the series until, finally, they come to a head in the season finale (which would turn out to be the series finale because very few people actually care about Tron as a franchise). Why they seem to have so much difficulty in OUAT when, honestly, the basic requirements (set archetypical characters into conflict with one another; keep them in conflict for a season) are the same is a source of constant confusion and wonder whenever I go to watch the show.
For me, however, that confusion has ceased to be fun or even remotely interesting. There’s no joy in saying “fuck this show” when the show doesn’t even feel as if it’s trying to mount a defense of itself. It’s no fun trying to mock the tenuous thematic connections when the show takes no stances on anything but the importance of the creation and exultation of the (biological) nuclear family unit. Going in and really trying to get into the meat of the series just feels like an empty exercise because there’s no meat to be found; just moldy straw all the way down.