Concepts: (Not So) Beautifully Broken
Occasionally, I have thoughts I want to shed light on, but I don’t have a completed stance on them or yet to have a clear conclusion. I decide to share them anyway as more open ended and generalized bite sized writings. They serve as prompts or catalysts for future essays. I head these series of articles as “Concepts”.
Recently, I found a video of a round table discussion with actors and directors. I noticed some faces, so I listened for a bit. The interviewer asked an opening question of why they want to act. In moments, someone quipped, “Because I am broken”. The other actors chuckled and nodded in agreement and, yes, they too felt this they are a broken individual.
That phrase bothered me.
Believe me, this doesn’t bother me because people with feelings of being broken and inadequate exist (and it serves us well to listen to these stories).
It bothers me because this emotional ideal has become a lazy trope.
To me it has become a superficial expression; a de facto excuse towards any actions or choices people take. It takes away a good amount of personal agency. Similarly, we have the other commonly held belief– and one that’s been around a long time–that only the broken and the tortured self can be truly talented, creative, or genius. Really? The only way?
We also consume this ideal in our stories. A frequent number of movies, books, and television series put forth the archetype of the deeply troubled (drug-addicted, alcoholic, narcissistic, bigoted, etc.) person as the pinnacle of good drama. They are award winners, and often described as remarkable and beautiful stories.
It seems to be the popular trend to revision popular heroes as hollow shells of their former selves, bitter, or otherwise troubled. I have recently seen Superman become ambivalent and mournful and both Luke Skywalker and Picard deconstructed into bitter, indecisive, and self-loathing. Even the reboot of Star Trek had Kirk as a self-destructive and directionless young man, whereas the classic Kirk grew up relatively stable, well-read, and deliberate; his only flaw being his marriage to the captain’s chair and shirking the ideals of settling down with a family.
Growing up around religion, I also witnessed the focus on brokenness in church groups. Lessons would highlight the brokenness of biblical characters and how God still found them worthy of love and used them as instruments of good. The conclusion being that modern church-goers too, dealing with the brokenness of sinful nature, are worthy of love and capable of good deeds.
Normal or untroubled is dull. Normal and untroubled people are boring and unrealistic. Or so I keep being told. I have had conversations with people who lead with the worst parts of their lives or share their detrimental vices quicker. Many times, they share this with a tone of accomplishment and do so far more than any of their hopes or dreams. I have been told that everyone has their baggage or brokenness* Sorry, I wanted to say, not everyone is broken. Secondly, I hate this because we have reduced the impact of what it means to be broken. I don’t think most people are broken. Troubled or flawed. Yes. Imperfect. Sure. But broken is several degrees above that! But we keep using that word for every situation! I think most of us aren’t that interesting to be broken and we are kidding ourselves into believing every trouble is more grandiose as it really is it –- just like the actor expressing himself in the interview. Without broken, many of us would just be left with the menial and tedious task of working on ourselves– a dull chore in comparison.
I realize at this point I might sound too grumpy and putting too much onus on what just might be a throw away term or a small trendy saying.
I’m not saying to eradicate the usage of broken or ignore the people and tales that explore them. I know the issue I am addressing isn’t some epidemic widespread ideal, but I do find myself noticing that it’s either a growing trend to express or just a very lazy way to garner interest and importance.
As an alternative, I think it could be a damn good yarn, to see fairly adjusted people deal with the ugliness of life, too. It sounds incredibly dramatic to me. Let that be trendy for a while.
Because this idea of brokenness has become trite, shallow, and ultimately… boring.
*I couldn’t agree with that one. I thought about the Anna Karenina Principle and a bit of dialogue in As Good As It Gets. Leo Tolstoy’s epic unfolds because it followed the unhappy family; studying the adjusted family wouldn’t produce anything unique (or 800 pages worth of material). And the ” broken” people in his plot were unhappy because they knew there was indeed a way to be happy. Similarly, in As Good As it Gets, Nicholson’s character spouts (possibly oversimplified) wisdom that not everyone has a terrible story to get over, and there are legitimately happy stories – with boats and friends and noodle salad. Not everyone is broken which is what makes it so awful.
