When somebody destroys me, I want to feel it
I was browsing in Rodney's yesterday when I ran across the novelization of The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen (2003). I was morbidly curious, so I took ten minutes and read it. Like most novelizations, I think it was done from the shooting script, so it's an improvement on the finished film in that it includes some evidently deleted scenes in which character development occurs rather than clichés and explosions, but that didn't make it good. Mostly it reminded me that the movie annoyed me so much that I wrote 4300 words about it in 2006. I still like Jason Flemyng's Jekyll. He could have done with a better film around him.
And he's not the only one. Among characters I like, there is a small subset I have mentally classed as "better than the stories they came from." Sometimes it's an actor salvaging their screentime—I'm thinking of the time I kept watching The High Bright Sun (1964) just for Denholm Elliott's cynical British agent, or Mercedes McCambridge's torch-singing survivor standing head and shoulders above the psychobabble of The Scarf (1951), or the compulsive professionalism Peter Cushing brought to otherwise deadly roles like Henry Miles in The End of the Affair (1955). Sometimes it's the sense that a character got away from their author, like Waldo Butters in Jim Butcher's Dresden Files; he is so instantly and eccentrically himself that I was not surprised to find out he was intended as a one-off who just refused to stay offstage. Sometimes it feels like structural failure elsewhere in the narrative: Nicholas Flokos' Nike (1998) disappointed me by slamming a sudden hard right into tragedy for no good reason I could discern then or now, but its protagonist Photi Anthropotis is a lovely sad clown of a modern Greek luftmensch and I still feel very tender toward him more than fifteen years later. And every now and then I have absolutely no idea what happened, but it's a fact that I actively like Licinus Honorius of Mary Gentle's Ilario: The Lion's Eye (2006) even when I want to clobber much of the novel around him.
I could go on, but I'd rather ask you. Who are your favorite characters who deserved better stories? What narratives do you revisit just for the supporting cast or a choice subplot? (What narratives would you never revisit, but you remember that one bit really fondly?) Recommendations? Warnings? Can you fix it with fic? I'm going to see if it's too late in the day to buy donuts.
And he's not the only one. Among characters I like, there is a small subset I have mentally classed as "better than the stories they came from." Sometimes it's an actor salvaging their screentime—I'm thinking of the time I kept watching The High Bright Sun (1964) just for Denholm Elliott's cynical British agent, or Mercedes McCambridge's torch-singing survivor standing head and shoulders above the psychobabble of The Scarf (1951), or the compulsive professionalism Peter Cushing brought to otherwise deadly roles like Henry Miles in The End of the Affair (1955). Sometimes it's the sense that a character got away from their author, like Waldo Butters in Jim Butcher's Dresden Files; he is so instantly and eccentrically himself that I was not surprised to find out he was intended as a one-off who just refused to stay offstage. Sometimes it feels like structural failure elsewhere in the narrative: Nicholas Flokos' Nike (1998) disappointed me by slamming a sudden hard right into tragedy for no good reason I could discern then or now, but its protagonist Photi Anthropotis is a lovely sad clown of a modern Greek luftmensch and I still feel very tender toward him more than fifteen years later. And every now and then I have absolutely no idea what happened, but it's a fact that I actively like Licinus Honorius of Mary Gentle's Ilario: The Lion's Eye (2006) even when I want to clobber much of the novel around him.
I could go on, but I'd rather ask you. Who are your favorite characters who deserved better stories? What narratives do you revisit just for the supporting cast or a choice subplot? (What narratives would you never revisit, but you remember that one bit really fondly?) Recommendations? Warnings? Can you fix it with fic? I'm going to see if it's too late in the day to buy donuts.

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This reminds me of Methos in the Highlander TV series: a one-off character that audiences liked so much, they kept bringing him back in random episodes. And although when I first heard about the character concept (five thousand years old! Oldest living immortal!) I thought he was a terrible, terrible idea, he turned out to be the best thing on that show -- to the point where I think his role in the story was part of what elevated the show from "meh" to actually interesting.
(I also harbor a theory that Mercutio was trying to take over Romeo and Juliet when Shakespeare wrote it, and that's why he gets killed off when he does. Because otherwise the play would be The Mercutio Story Featuring Some Kids Whose Lines Aren't Nearly As Good.)
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Sideways to this, my sister read Hamlet when I read it (she's my younger sister, meaning she got to it earlier in her development when I did) and was so confused when I told her it wasn't a comedy. "But everyone dies at the end!" she protested. "It's completely ridiculous!" And...yeah.
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I think everyone imprints on Mercutio. Even in Tanith Lee's alt-historical
Zeffirelli fanficretelling Sung in Shadow (1983), Flavian "Mercurio" Estemba gets all the best lines."But everyone dies at the end!" she protested. "It's completely ridiculous!" And...yeah.
Oh, please tell me someone introduced her to The Revenger's Tragedy. It's meant to be like that. It is awesome. (I adore Alex Cox's dystopian Liverpool remix Revengers Tragedy (2002) and and also recommend it. Music by Chumbawamba. Sexual tension by Christopher Eccleston and Eddie Izzard.)
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I saw it because I was taking a course on Senecan tragedy and it was shown as a double feature with Julie Taymor's Titus (1999). It remains one of the best double features I have ever seen in my life.
(I enjoyed that class. I wrote a paper about Sweeney Todd as revenge tragedy in the tradition of Seneca. I should have done something with that.)
[edit] I should make it clear that I've read Dean's Tam Lin—my first semester of college, right before I declared for Classics—but it was neither my introduction to The Lady's Not for Burning nor the reason I finally saw The Revenger's Tragedy. I learned to make cherries jubilee because of Patricia C. Wrede's Dealing with Dragons (1990), though.
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Dean introduced me to rather a lot of literature, I must admit.
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Cherries jubilee is cherries flambéed in kirschwasser and poured over vanilla ice cream. It's great.
Dean introduced me to rather a lot of literature, I must admit.
There is nothing wrong with that! Discovering books through other books is kind of the way a literary tradition works.
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(And before anybody says "you can't taste the alcohol!" -- I often can, even when other people don't.)
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Nine
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See reply to
abovebelow—yes, but I am no longer certain if it's any good or just a curiosity. Given the popularity of Tim Burton's film a few years later, I suspect all my conclusions were scooped by fandom anyway.no subject
Yes, but it was written in the spring of 2004, so I consider it mostly terrible from a prose perspective and probably not as intellectually well-developed as it could have been.
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This is where I ask if you've heard "Oor Hamlet."
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I keep hearing this about Methos! I've never seen the show. I've just been told I would like the character and for some reason I know that Peter Wingfield went back to get his medical degree in midlife and is apparently doing his residency somewhere this year.
(I also harbor a theory that Mercutio was trying to take over Romeo and Juliet when Shakespeare wrote it, and that's why he gets killed off when he does. Because otherwise the play would be The Mercutio Story Featuring Some Kids Whose Lines Aren't Nearly As Good.)
(I do not think I can subscribe to your theory, but I like it, if that makes sense. I don't actually hate Romeo and Juliet, but I imprinted on Mercutio in ninth grade—specifically, John McEnery as Mercutio in the 1968 Zeffirelli film—and it's never gone away.)
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What makes Methos work is that the concept implies one kind of character, and the kind you get is entirely different. He's not a Wise Old Guru (except at random moments, when he is), nor is he a total badass, being entirely willing to run the hell away from whatever threatens him. And he's snarky, which automatically endears him to me. :-) Given that Duncan MacLeod is prone to taking everything very seriously, Methos provides some much-needed leavening.
Mercutio I think would have died anyway -- the part about him dying was me being tongue in cheek -- but he very much feels to me like one of those characters who had way more life than his author expected him to. And for the record, I actually do like R&J. It's comparable to Highlander in that way: I think the character makes the story better, but that doesn't mean I wouldn't have enjoyed it without them.
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It's about the only thing I know about Peter Wingfield! It means I feel very positively toward him, at least.
Given that Duncan MacLeod is prone to taking everything very seriously, Methos provides some much-needed leavening.
He sounds like the character I'd like. Television is just a much bigger commitment than movies or books for me.
but he very much feels to me like one of those characters who had way more life than his author expected him to.
I wonder who originated the part. I wonder if we know. I should ask
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You certainly make an appealing case for him.
Does Ethan have more depth in the comics? I know he had some afterlife, but not the details.
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I don't know; I've never hunted down the Buffy comics. I believe he only has a couple of appearances there, and I know he dies in one of them. After I finished his TV appearances a few years back, I wound up reading a lot of fanfic, none of which was exactly what I wanted, and writing up a string of Tumblr posts codifying my own headcanons... and somewhere in there I established him as my definitive trickster. :-)
(Also as one of my primary imaginary friends, or whatever one would properly call them -- I have, as I think I mentioned, survived some shit, not least by talking to imaginary people in my head. I mention this because it comes up fairly regularly in my posts, and because it's why Ethan might be filtering my memories of Methos to some degree. Peter Wingfield really can have sexual chemistry with a blank wall, though.)
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