Evolution of the outcast

Student Writer Morgan Wrigley

In the words of Stephen Sondheim, “The outsider is basic to a lot of dramatic literature. This country is about conformity, and so nonconformity is a fairly common theme.” Sondheim was referring to the character type of loners, misfits and outcasts so often portrayed in literature.

From the vain, pompous Malvolio in Shakespeare’s “Twelfth Night,” to the deformed and frightening Phantom in Andrew Lloyd Webber’s “Phantom of the Opera,” to the tortured, maniacal Joker in Todd Phillips’ 2019 film, outsider characters have taken the stage in plays, books and movies for thousands of years. I chose to do my senior research study on the evolution of these characters over time. As society changes, the perception of what makes a character an outsider changes with it. Studying this led me to ask two questions: What defines an outcast character, and how has that changed over time?

When exploring this topic and reviewing previous research, I found that in the early days of cinema, these misfit characters often reinforced shallow, negative stereotypes about people who did not fit into the societal norm. They were often portrayed as having a onedimensional personality, with their outcast status being their only defining characteristic. Failing to explore their backstory and experiences limited the humanity of these characters and created mere caricatures. As society became more accepting of diversity, the cinematic portrayal of outcast characters began to evolve. Characters who were once viewed in a negative light became heroes, and their differences were celebrated rather than mocked. In the 1980s, movies like “The Breakfast Club” and “Pretty in Pink” depicted teenage misfits who found strength in their individuality and stood up against the status quo.

In recent years, the portrayal of outcasts has continued to change. The focus has shifted from mental and physical differences among characters to other types of marginalization and standing up against oppression. For example, movies like “The Hate U Give” explore the experience of protagonists who face racial discrimination in their communities. Others such as “Call Me By Your Name” depict the struggles of gay teenagers coming of age in a homophobic society.

Ultimately, what defines an outcast or misfit character in film is not about their physical or mental characteristics as much as it is a reflection of societal expectations and norms. As the push to embrace diverse perspectives has continued, outcast characters are more often portrayed in a positive light with substantial backstories. The portrayal

Resurrection racket

In 2016, I went to see “Rogue One:

A Star Wars Story,” which is set in a time slightly before the original 1977 classic. The plot involves Rebel spies stealing plans for the Empire’s battle station. Remember Grand Moff Tarkin, the evil governor who wants to blow up Princess Leia’s home planet? He was played originally by veteran horror-movie actor Peter Cushing.

Cushing died in 1994. Imagine my surprise, then, when his avatar showed up in “Rogue One” to reprise the Imperial villain role. “How in the world,” I asked myself, “did they find a guy who looks exactly like him?” As it turned out, they didn’t. It was all CGI, with a voiceover supplying the dastardly British accent. The effect was eerie, to say the least.

I noticed later that the credits thanked “the estate of Peter Cushing.” Given that the film brought in $1.058 billion, I assume the estate got a hefty residual. And so began the debate over the ethics of recreating the dead onscreen. It’s hard enough for the children of bygone celebrities to decide whether dad would have wanted them to license those T-shirts and bobbleheads. But now they must choose what parts he would audition for beyond the grave.

But that quandary is child’s play compared to the latest AI outrage. A Korean company has now created a chatbot that can resurrect the dead.

For $10,000 or thereabouts, the company will come to your home and film you for several hours. The goal is to capture your voice, your speech patterns, your gestures and your mannerisms. Then, after you die, the company will create an artificially intelligent hologram that can speak with your family in your voice. It is being marketed as a source of comfort for the bereaved.

Columnist Michael Claxton

After the initial fee, I believe you pay extra for each viewing. Just like Redbox.

This, my friends, is a racket. As long as there has been grief, there have been swindlers trying to cash in on it. Back in the 1840s, a pair of sisters in upstate New York started pranking their parents. They discovered that they could secretly snap their toes together and blame the “raps” on ghosts. Kate and Maggie Fox did not intend to start a religion, but as reports grew of their alleged ability to contact the deceased, so did the movement they accidentally inspired.

Spiritualism was huge from the Victorian era through its peak after World War I, when grieving family members were anxious to have one final word from a son killed at Gallipoli. Seances, levitations, automatic writing, spirit manifestations and other flapdoodles swept the world. Gullible clients often paid through the nose to sit in a dark room and be duped by con artists who pretended to be in sync with the dead. Professional magicians like Harry Houdini were incensed and labored to expose rampant séance fraud.

Then as now, manipulating sad people is a rotten way to make a buck.

Set aside how creepy this new AI horror show is. No chatbot, no matter how good, can authentically recreate a person. If it filmed our beloved Great Aunt Vera for weeks, it couldn’t capture everything she knows or prepare her hologram to answer any question her relatives want to pose. If of these characters in films over time also speaks to the goals of society. In a time when the goal was to silence voices that did not conform to the status quo, characters who stood out from the vast majority in different ways were portrayed as shallow and unpleasant, sending a message that it’s wrong to be different. In a time when diversity is more and more widely accepted and celebrated, outcast characters take the spotlight as empowered protagonists who inspire others. we want her to tell the story she hadn’t told in years — about the time she and four of her sisters were riding on the back of a horse and all fell into the lake when the horse stopped for a drink — will she be able to? Of course not. Will the hologram make up a fake story? Probably. us. We also pledge to do the basics: Report accurate and relevant information, check our facts, and share them in a professional, timely manner. If you have any story ideas, questions, comments or concerns for The Bison staff, please email Emma Jones, the editor-in-chief, at ejones19@harding.edu. “The Bison (USPS 577-660) is published weekly (except vacations, exams and summer sessions), 20 issues per year, by Harding University. Periodicals postage paid at Searcy, Arkansas 72143. POSTMASTER: Send address changes to The Bison, Harding University 11192, SEARCY, AR 72149-0001.” BYLINE POLICY: The Bison provides an opportunity for class writers to contribute work under the byline “guest writers.” Due to this arrangement, staff writers may rewrite a portion of the guest writers’ stories as they deem necessary, while still identifying the work as the guest writers’ own.

Consider the opportunities for fraud or spite. With a slight tweak in the programming, we can get a late relative’s hologram to announce he’s changing the will. Or to say something vicious to the cousin we don’t like. Or to confess to something he never did.

At the very least, a glitch in the system — there are always glitches in the system — could have the dearly departed behave in a way that confuses, bewilders or upsets her loved ones.

Life teaches us many things. One is that death is inevitable. We ache, we mourn, we grieve and yet we continue living. We must move on. Now, AI allows us to circumvent another crucial stage of human growth. Why seek closure and learn to let go, when we can pop in a $10,000 DVD and simulate one more chat with our old friend?

When it works as it should, life teaches us how to respond maturely to what happens. Are the folks who create our technologies on board with that plan?

Last week marked 12 years since my father died. I think about him every day. I would dearly love to see him again, to hear his laugh, to hold his large, warm hand. But I am confident that, someday, I will. And I can wait.

I look forward to telling him how much money I saved. He’ll love that.

MICHAEL CLAXTON is the narrative columnist for The Bison. He can be contacted at mclaxto1@harding.edu.