Joachim Friedmann

Storytelling for Media

Introduction to the Theory and Practice of Narrative Design

UVK Verlag · München

Einbandmotiv: Henk Wyniger

Publiziert mit Unterstützung der Technischen Hochschule Köln und der ifs internationale filmschule köln.

Prof. Dr. Joachim Friedmann is a script- and headwriter for award-winning television series and author of storylines for comics for Disney, Egmont, and Carlsen. As a storytelling consultant, he has worked for institutions and companies like Microsoft and the German Federal Ministry of Environment or the German Soccer Federation DFB, creating educational and interactive online formats.

He teaches serial, transmedial, and interactive storytelling at the University of Hildesheim, the Film University Potsdam, the Film-Academy Baden-Württemberg, and the Hamburg Media School. In 2016, he received his doctorate with a thesis on transmedia storytelling. Since 2017 he is a professor at the International Film School Cologne (ifs), heading the Master’s program „Serial Storytelling“.

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1 Storytelling – More than Just Telling a Story

It would be tempting to start with a story at this point. Wouldn’t that be the right beginning for a book about storytelling? An exciting, interesting narrative that immediately captivates the reader and draws them into the subject? Yes, it might be exciting. But it might not be helpful. Because even though practically everyone tells stories and intuitively uses and recognizes the narrative form, they don’t give much thought to the way stories are created. This is exactly the question this book is meant to address. The methods used to tell stories are to be researched and presented here; it is, so to speak, a look behind the scenes of storytelling.

Narratives are ubiquitous; they simply belong to human life and appear as a natural way to communicate. Myths and fairy tales are important for the sense of identity in many early societies, and everyday stories thematize and structure interpersonal relationships. A multitude of stories are told in books, films, series, computer games, or documentaries in order to entertain, inform or convince. Stories are one of the most important forms of organizing communication and information across all social, historical, and cultural layers. “International, transhistorical, transcultural, narrative is there, like life” (95), states ROLAND BARTHES in The Semiotic Challenge This observation leads some people to the mistaken assumption that life itself writes the best stories. So why write a book on storytelling, when stories are omnipresent and happen all the time around us anyway?

The answer is simple: they don’t just happen. Stories are told. Life and existence only provide the material from which storytellers form their stories. The storyteller must select interesting material from the almost infinite number of events of daily life, shape them in a certain way to make them into a story, put them into perspective, structure them, and dramatize them. It is a craft, an art.

But although, or perhaps because, they are so ubiquitous, it doesn’t seem that easy to investigate stories, or to reveal their design principles. Stories are perceived as a natural phenomenon. When I ask the supposedly simple question in seminars or workshops: “What actually makes a story?” there is often thoughtful silence – although all participants have told a story before and have read, seen, heard, or even interactively experienced a multitude of stories. Nevertheless, this is not a contradictory finding. Even if children intuitively identify and name narrative texts, a narrative is at the same time a complex semiotic construct and narrative design strategies are by no means self-evident on closer inspection. Narrativizing texts, to describe the process of storytelling academically, is a highly complex, multi-layered, and differentiated procedure. At first glance, there would seem to be more logical, simpler, and concise ways of organizing, structuring, and sharing information. But stories appear to be the easiest way for the human brain to communicate and process information, as cognitive psychology research suggests.

Thus the narrative text deliberately leaves blank spaces and often – in contrast to instructive or scientific texts – does not reveal specific information, for example in crime novels or detective stories. Even when we encounter animals speaking in stories, such as in Aesop’s fables, or even household appliances, such as in Disney’s animated film The Brave Little Toaster, we can still find the narrative credible on an emotional and semantic level. And regardless of whether a narrative is conveyed orally, literarily, cinematically, or digitally, in the vast majority of cases it assumes a prototypical narrative structure.

The attempt to grasp the specifics of this transcultural and transhistorical form of communication theoretically begins in the ancient world, with ARISTOTLE’S seminal work, Poetics, in which Aristotle refers to the dominant narrative forms of his time: drama, epic, and poetry. This approach is further developed in Germany by GOTTHOLD EPHRAIM LESSING in a collection of essays published as Hamburgische Dramaturgie. At the end of the nineteenth century, narrative research had essentially emancipated itself from drama theory. In Russia, VLADIMIR PROPP presented the Morphology of the Folktale in 1928, the first systematic investigation of a narrative genre. However, a more fundamental scientific examination of narratives did not begin until the 1960s, when French structuralists took up and systematically developed the ideas of Propp and the Russian formalists.

Since TZVETAN TODOROV coined the technical term “narratology” (The 2 Principles of Narrative 44) for narrative studies in 1969, narrative forms of communication, subsumed in practice under the term “storytelling,” have received increasing attention. This has been particularly true in the last twenty years, in applied contexts such as journalism, marketing, organizational development or coaching, as well as in science. MARTIN KREISWIRTH thus coined the term “narrative turn” (377–382) in the humanities and notes that since the 1990s there has been an increased interest in questions of narrative form in a multitude of academic disciplines, such as art, cultural studies, and the social and natural sciences, as well as disciplines further afield such as medicine, economics, business administration, and law.

At the same time, it should be noted that the concept of storytelling is often used with little reflection, both in everyday life and in academic contexts. A story is something that is told, according to minimal consensus and circular reasoning. The minimal definitions of narrative science also fall short, especially in an applied context. In narratology, a narrative is described as a chain of events and actions in time and space. Especially for people who are interested in telling stories themselves, for storytellers, such descriptions do not go far enough. As the narratologist MARIE-LAURE RYAN shows, the design of a narrative text is subject to a multitude of conditions and specifications – even if storytelling techniques are often used intuitively. In both the scientific and the applied context, however, the aim must be to analyse and reflect on the principles of narrative design and thus make them consciously usable.

Due to the multitude of disciplines dealing with the overarching subject of storytelling, diverse and varied interests in knowledge, application, and teaching of storytelling are to be expected. For example, filmmakers may focus on questions of narrative structuring, since audiovisual formats such as feature films and horizontally-narrated drama series or sitcoms have different temporal lengths that affect the narrative structure. Documentaries and “reality TV” shows are shaped into stories at many points and in many ways; even in those that look the most “raw” or observational, dramatic turning points have been created. In game design, on the other hand, questions of spatial semantics are of importance, since in games spaces of experience are created for the recipients, which are explored both playfully and narratively. In marketing, however, it is of interest how certain messages can be communicated more powerfully by emotionalizing a story in order to trigger buying impulses or communicate political content more effectively. In medicine, one question may be how patients are brought into self-efficacy and self-responsibility through causal connections that are a focus in healing stories. The use of appropriate techniques is also context-dependent and – especially in academic teaching – the specific needs and desired outcomes of the respective discipline should be taken into account as much as possible.

That said, there are numerous aspects that could be of use to all of the aforementioned disciplines: a systematic overview of narrative design strategies in various narrative media, based on scientific, practical, and dramaturgical-artistic approaches. The purpose of this book is to create this overview and to make storytelling techniques available to those interested in both theory and practice. The central design principles of narratives – be it the creation of narrative figures and narrative spaces, the creation of turning points, or the structuring of narratives – are each the subject of a separate chapter, in which stories in various narrative media are examined from a scientific-theoretical as well as a practical and application-oriented perspective. The basic narrative strategies are transmedially applicable. Nevertheless, some of these strategies find media-specific forms. Thus, the creation of subtext or the emotionalization of a narrative in verbally-mediated and audiovisually-received texts differs in some points – even if it is an important component of narrativization in both media. In this context, special attention is paid to new forms of interactive and digital narration – the possibilities of intervention that recipients have, for example, in the design of the game’s narrative, change some of the parameters that apply to classical narrative media.

This book will not answer the question of why storytellers prefer to communicate in the form of stories, why they emotionalize information, surprise listeners and readers with twists, explore the personality of a character in a series with many episodes, to move viewers in a cinema to tears, or to engage players in a game for many hours. But storytellers do all of these things, and how they do them will be answered in detail throughout this book.

2 The Narrative Figure – Life, Theme, Function

One obvious constant in stories is the protagonist. In all narratives, of all cultures, we encounter beings with goals, desires, and emotions. Aristotle noted that “men in action” (11) are imitated in stories, and when it comes to imitating acting people, storytellers should, obviously, be inspired by reality and life. LINDA SEGER, a script consultant from Hollywood, also assumes this. For her, the best way to create a film character is through detailed research.

A sculpture of Venus of Milo. Image in public domain.

Psychology, profession, milieu of origin, and appearance are for her the constituent framework to create as credible and lifelike figures as possible. If one looks at series such as The Wire, the socially critical films by Ken Loach, or the novels of Jonathan Franzen, this finding also applies. But what about a character like Colonel Hathi, the disciplined elephant from Disney’s The Jungle Book, or HK-47, the merciless battle droid from the computer game Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic? Here even the most intensive research would not have led anywhere, because in real life there are no elephants with military ranks or cynical war robots. Such figures are not credible in a naturalistic sense, but primarily transport a worldview and embody a theme. Author ROBERT MCKEE states:

“A character is no more a human being than the Venus of Milo is a real woman. A character is a work of art, a metaphor for human nature.” (375)

In this context, an elephant, a marionette like Pinocchio or – as in The Brave Little Toaster – an ensemble of household appliances can also become narrative figures. Whether they are life-like or not does not matter at first.

Pinocchio is a character based on an Italian children’s novel. Image in public domain.

In structuralist narrative research, on the other hand, neither the credibility nor the metaphorical or thematic location of a character are the focus of attention. Theorists such as Vladimir Propp or ALGIRDAS JULIEN GREIMAS emphasize the figure’s function in the narrative’s plot. Thus, Propp identifies seven figures who can complete all the actions and fulfull all the roles in a Russian fairy tale: the villain, the donor, the helper, the princess and her father, the dispatcher, the hero, and the false hero. In fact, Propp’s scheme can also be applied to other types of text: a character like Conan in Conan the Barbarian, for example, is neither credibly taken from life nor does he necessarily convey a theme or a world view. But Conan is always a hero, whether in the literary mode, the comic version, the film adaptations, or in the computer game Conan Exiles. Even in documentary, where the featured character ar not actors and dialogues are not prescripted often, in editing, attributes are exaggerated or certain details are withheld to craft the people into characters who serve the telling of the story. In the following chapters, we will take a look at the various different methods with which characters can be constructed.

2.1 Functional Figures
The Structuralist Approach

As early as 1923, when he systematically examines the Russian fairy tales and identifies the seven functions mentioned, Vladimir Propp comes to the conclusion that the figure has a clearly defined function in the plot. The semiotician Algirdas Julien Greimas further developed Propp’s model and reduced it to six functions, which he called “actants” (201):

 subject

 object

 sender

 receiver

 helper

 opponent

These terms result from the relationship to the object of desire. Thus an actant does not necessarily have to be a figure, it can also be an object. But the object of desire can also be a figurative one, for example when Harry Potter is looking for the prisoner of Azkaban or when the plumber Mario wants to free his girlfriend from Donkey Kong’s grasp. Several actants can also be merged into one figure, which Greimas then calls the “arche-actants” (211). Likewise, an actant can be realized in several individuals.

A visual representation of the actantial model, developed in 1966 by semiotician Algirdas Julien Greimas. Illustration by Jana Neef.

Due to its high degree of abstraction, the actantial model can be applied to the analysis of a large number of different narratives. In addition to Russian folktales, Greimas also examines the work of the novelist Georges Bernanos and transcripts of a child’s therapy session where the child is telling dreams and self-invented stories. The functions of the characters can also be portrayed in film narratives. In Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, Indiana Jones (subject) is supposed to retrieve the holy Sankara stone (object) for the suffering villagers (sender and receiver = arche-actants), which was stolen and to free the children of the village (object) who were kidnapped. With the help of Willie and Shorty (both helpers), Indiana Jones can defeat the vizier (opponent), save the children, and return the Sankara stone to the villagers.

Greimas’ approach is also important in coaching, as well as in economics and social sciences, for the analysis of narratives. Using the Greimas model, ANNE-MARIE SODERBERG examines a business takeover in Denmark and analyses the stories in which the workforce communicates their experiences with the merger in the form of narrative interviews (3–36). She can show that the six actants can be identified in each of these experiences.

The Cultural Anthropological Approach

Using a different methodological approach, script-writing instructor CHRISTOPHER VOGLER also comes up with a model that describes an ensemble of figures through its functions. Vogler builds primarily on the work of JOSEPH CAMPBELL, whose concept of the hero’s journey (see Chapter 9 Narrative Structure) has a considerable influence on the practice of storytelling. (In this text we will use the term “hero” regardless of the gender or whether the protagonist is human at all, similar to how the the single, gender-neutral word “actor” now can describe all those who act.) The anthropologist Campbell investigated a multitude of fairy tales, myths, religious narratives, and legends from all over the world. He identified recurring structural parameters whose sequence of action he describes as the transculturally and transhistorically effective monomyth: the shared single myth that exists throughout the world and throughout time. Also universally understood are the figures the hero of the monomyth encounters on his journey, who appear transculturally in a multitude of narratives. Campbell names them “archetypes of the collective unconscious” in relation to C.G. JUNG’S psychotherapeutic works. Vogler uses these theories for dramaturgy and also transfers them to film narratives, naming the following archetypal figures in a narrative:

 hero

 mentor

 threshold guardian

 shape-shifter

 shadow

 trickster

The hero is in most cases the main character of the story, like Luke Skywalker in Star Wars. The mentor is his advisor or teacher, embodied in this case by Obi-Wan Kenobi. The shadow is the opponent of the hero, here Darth Vader. The threshold guardian watches over a threshold or boundary that the hero must cross throughout the narrative – the Empire’s stormtroopers want to prevent Luke from leaving Tatooine. The herald is to be understood analogously to Greimas’ sender, he confronts the hero with his task, just as R2D2 delivers the cry for help from Princess Leia to Luke. The shape-shifter is characterized by the fact that he can change his function again and again from the perspective of the hero and thus provides a moment of uncertainty or surprising turn, just as Han Solo first appears as a cynical mercenary, only to reappear at the decisive moment as an important friend who saves Luke’s life in the showdown. The trickster is an anarchic, often humorous character who is able to question the assumptions and certainties of both the hero and the audience time and again, as does C-3PO, whose inappropriate, ceremonial behaviour creates comic situations even in moments of extreme danger.

The peasant Joan of Arc (Jeanne D’Arc) led the French army to important victories in the Hundred Years’ War. The only direct portrait of Joan of Arc has not survived; this artist’s interpretation was painted between AD 1450 and 1500. Image in public domain.

It is not only in the labels that it becomes clear that Vogler defines his figures more narrowly than Greimas. At the same time, however, the ensemble’s function is broader than that of Propp or Greimas. For example, the shape-shifter has the ability to change roles several times. Sméagol from The Lord of the Rings, who in Vogler’s terminology would be a shape-shifter, transforms in Greimas’ terminology from a helper to an opponent, and finally again turns into the involuntary helper of the hero, Frodo.

Scientifically and theoretically, Vogler’s dramaturgical application of the archetype concept must be viewed critically. For Jung, who made his model applicable in psychotherapy, archetypes are not necessarily characters, but symbols and mythological allegories, which are important in the personality development of his patients. Nevertheless, Vogler’s model is useful in practice due to its unproblematic applicability to all kinds of narratives and the fact that it can be used in many areas such as marketing, film dramaturgy, or game design. In addition, it shows that the functions of certain figures can be repeatedly identified, transculturally and transhistorically. This applies not only to the archetypes described by Vogler. For example, the figure of the female warrior is present in a multitude of cultures, be it the Amazonian queen Penthesilea in ancient Greece, Mulan in Wei Dynasty China, Jeanne D’Arc in the Middle Ages in France, Snoop in the TV series The Wire, Katniss in The Hunger Games, or Lara Croft in Tomb Raider. Likewise, the figure of the just outlaw can be identified in almost every culture, as Robin Hood in the European narrative tradition, as the robbers in the 14th-century Chinese novel Outlaws of the Marsh, or in modernity as the myth of Che Guevara. One could argue that Jeanne D’Arc and Che Guevara are not narrative figures but are anchored in reality. However, this shows only the power of these narrative archetypes and that the factual can be narrated just as much as the fictional, as is seen in the numerous rewrites of Jeanne D’Arc’s myth in successful novels, plays, operas, and films.

Using such transculturally-effective character functions or – in Vogler’s terminology – archetypes, while at the same time creating them in a new and unusual way, is a challenge and an opportunity for every storyteller.

2.2 Mimetic Figures

Narratology emphasizes the function as a decisive component in figure design. But a purely function-oriented figure can appear one-dimensional and is in danger of leading to a formulaic narrative. Conan the Barbarian can be clearly classified in his function, but he lacks the psychological depth of a real human being. The success of Marvel’s superheroes with the audience is due, among other things, to the fact that the authors equipped their characters – in addition to their function as superheroes – with a comprehensible everyday life, which was hardly the case with their competitor DC in the early 1960s. The Marvel superheroes are not only on the road in the name of justice, they also struggle with everyday problems that are perceived as lifelike and relevant by the young target group. Peter Parker, (a.k.a. Spider-Man), has to work as a photographer and let himself be bullied by his imperious boss J. Jonah Jameson in order to finance his studies. He has problems with his girlfriend, Mary Jane, and he tries to help his Aunt May, who lives in small, cramped conditions.

Aristotle’s postulate that acting people in stories are imitated is still used today in narrative research and is referred to as mimesis in reference to the ancient Greek term μίμησις, which means imitation. This mimetic dimension of figure design is emphasized above all by modern film dramaturgy – credibility and psychological depth of the figure are the focus here, and careful research is considered essential to the creation of such a figure. In fact, a series like the American medical drama ER or the novel Jamila by Chingiz Aitmatov would not develop its narrative power without exact knowledge of the milieu and the people. Regardless of the narrative function of the characters, the recipients have the impression that they are following the experiences of real people. Thus, detailed research of the material is also part of the storyteller’s tasks.

In narratives that depict a narrowly limited milieu, such as a hospital or crime series, this concept is more difficult to apply, and requires some further, supplementary methods. In a hospital series, the permanent members of the ensemble are all doctors or nurses, in a crime series, all are investigators. In addition, they all pursue the same goal, namely to heal people or to solve a case, and are therefore more or less identical in their functions.

American dramatic advisor LAURIE HUTZLER has developed a model for differentiating such figures in a psychologically credible way while at the same time classifying them functionally. She uses the so-called enneagram, a model for determining personality, which describes nine different types, which in turn are grouped into three groups, depending on whether the character is emotionally, rationally, or instinctively controlled: those who react with their heart, brain, or “gut.” These personality types provide information about the underlying value system and the resulting behaviour patterns, which according to Hutzler, can be clearly differentiated between the different types.

This differentiation is particularly noticeable in ensembles, such as the TV series The Big Bang Theory, which portrays the lives of the four friends Sheldon, Leonard, Raj, and Howard. All four are highly intelligent men who work as physicists at the Caltech Institute in Pasadena. Leonard is a figure who, in dramaturgical terminology, is called a viewpoint character: the character from whose perspective the story is usually told. The viewpoint character is often the least differentiated figure and is ideally the most “normal” character in the ensemble so that the recipients can potentially build the highest level of identification with it. His three friends, on the other hand, are designed according to the basic types of the enneagram. With his IQ of 187, Sheldon represents the intellectual type; he is rarely in a position to show or recognize feelings. Engineer Howard is ridiculed by his friends for lacking a doctorate but he is an amorous daredevil; he is assertive and instinctual. Raj seeks great love, but due to his sensitivity and shyness is hardly able to communicate with women. As an emotional type, he lives out his need for love in a tender relationship with his Yorkshire Terrier, Cinnamon.

A similar pattern can be seen in the TV series Sex and the City; the focus is on the four friends Carrie, Samantha, Cynthia, and Miranda, who live in New York at the turn of the millennium. All four are successful, affluent, educated, attractive women – and in their mid to late thirties, in search of both a partner for life and sexual adventures. Again, it is the viewpoint character Carrie who shows the least psychological extremes. Samantha, on the other hand, a successful marketing businesswoman, is bold, and lives out her sexuality uninhibitedly. She uses men self-confidently and egoistically without opening up emotionally. For romantic Charlotte, on the other hand, sex is secondary and only a means to finally find long-term stability. As an emotional type, she firmly believes in love. The cynical, rational Cynthia is an academic and a lawyer who laughs at Charlotte’s romantic ideas. She is the typical representative of the intellectually-driven realist.

Narratology takes a critical view of these psychologically-oriented approaches to figure design. The functional-psychological archetype model is regarded as scientifically outdated, and psychologists deny the enneagram any scientific basis. In practice, however, these concepts have proved their worth many times over. Hutzler advises, amongst many others, Oscar-winning screenwriter and director Paul Haggis. Vogler’s archetypes are the blueprint for the ensembles of several successful Disney films such as The Lion King. Even if these approaches are scientifically controversial, they have proven their worth in practice and are interculturally applicable.

2.3 Thematic Figures

Beyond the functional and mimetic design, there is another dimension of figure design, which the narrative scientist BRIAN RICHARDSON calls the thematic, and which can be identified, above all, in a type of narrative that is called gnoseological. The aim of the protagonist in this type of story is not necessarily to obtain an object. Instead, here – as the term gnoseologically suggests – the narrative is centered around the main character gaining knowledge. In the Grail legend, Percival must indeed search for the grail, but above all, he must transform from an innocent fool to a noble, knowledgeable knight. Mowgli, brought up by wolves, must discover his humanity in the Disney film The Jungle Book, and Hans Castorp must mature into a man in The Magic Mountain. In the course of the narrative, these protagonists repeatedly encounter characters who impart the necessary knowledge for this maturation process: the knight Gurnemanz teaches Percival courtly virtues and the hermit Trevrizent embodies humility and godliness. Mowgli is admonished by the panther Bagheera to reason and caution, Baloo the Bear encourages him to experience the joy of life; Colonel Hathi and his elephants stand for the value of discipline. Hans Castorp meets Settembrini, who teaches him humanism and artistic virtues, furthermore he learns from the cold rationalist Naphta and the disciplined Joachim, while Clawdia Chauchat embodies Eros and her lover Mynheer Pepperkorn stands for, and imparts, an exuberant cult of vitality. This principle is also applied in games. Revan, the protagonist of Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic, has lost his memory at the beginning of the game and now must decide whether he wants to join the dark side or the light side of the Force. He repeatedly encounters characters who thematically embody one side or the other, such as the battle droid HK-47, who embodies the dark side, or the Jedi Knight Bastila Shan, who stands for the light side of the Force.

In a mimetic dimension, these figures often seem less lifelike, rather larger-than-life and idealized. On a functional level, they don’t necessarily have to contribute to the progress of the action. Their function is most comparable to that of a mentor, as they often accompany and advise the main character on their archetypal heroic journey, which they usually undertake in a state of paradisical innocence, before completing their maturation process with the support of the thematic figures. But this role is not mandatory. With this type of figure, the focus is less on a functional assignment or mimetic dimension than on the representation of a particular world model or ideology that serves the main character as an example of how to shape his or her own life.

Protagonists of the film adaptation of The Magic Mountain (1982) by Hans W. Geißendörfer: Ludovico Settembrini (Flavio Bucci), Hans Castorp (Christoph Eichhorn), Joachim Ziemßen (Alexander Radszun), and Leo Naphta (Charles Aznavour). © Beta Film GmbH

These thematic figures are often organized in opposition pairs (see Chapter 4 Binary Narrative Oppositions) in order to emphasize their characteristics. Thus, the rational nature of Bagheera is emphasized in contrast to the fun-loving Baloo, as is the immoderate nature of Mynheer Pepperkorn and Clawdia Chauchat in contrast to the disciplined Joachim and the self-denying Naphtha. These thematic figures can stand not only in opposition to other figures but also in opposition to a setting, a narrative space (see Chapter 3 Setting – The Narrated and the Narrative Space). This constellation is known in Hollywood narrative cinema as the “fish-out-of-water” principle. Here, the main character must act assertively in an environment constructed in semantic opposition to the thematic aspects of their personality in order to generate a multitude of conflicts that force the character to act. Thus Elle Woods, initially described as naive, has to prove herself in Legally Blonde at the elite Harvard University. The romantic, naïve, Princess Giselle is moved from her fairyland to the modern, cold Manhattan in the film Enchanted. And Nemo’s father is literally a fish out of water saving his son in Finding Nemo.

Since the gnoseological narratives focus on the cognitive process, it makes sense to use this type of narrative with the corresponding characters in so-called “edutainment” formats, which combine narrative and didactic elements in order to convey certain insights to the recipients. For example, the German Soccer Association (DFB) mascot, PAULE, and his friends represent the values that the DFB stands for: fairness, respect, responsibility, and team spirit. PAULE, a role model, exemplifies these traits, while his friend Franziska embodies creativity, confidence, and commitment to women’s soccer. Emil and Katy stand for academic qualities and analytical intelligence by being experts in football rules, tactics, and analysis. Henri represents a fun spirit and the need for exercise, while Benni shows us that nutrition and sports go hand in hand. Even Winnie, who serves as an antagonistic force in the group with his sometimes misguided behaviour, wins the audience over with his passion for the game of soccer.

PAULE and his friends – from left to right: Winnie, Henri, PAULE, Franziska, Benni, Emil and Katy© 2021, DFB

Marketing and advertising campaigns also make use of this principle when basic characteristics or certain values that are to be linked with a product are embodied in a narrative figure – be it in the male, nature-loving cowboys of Marlboro cigarettes or Mr. Clean, who promises to power through tough stains.

If one examines further examples, one finds that in a narrative figure all three dimensions of character design are usually realized with different weightings. None of these three models can claim to capture the complexity of the narrative figure in its entirety. Depending on the narrative intention, different aspects of a figure are emphasized. In an action-adventure, psychological considerations are usually of secondary importance; the functionality of the characters as heroes, helpers, or opponents is in the foreground. When it comes to an interpersonal drama, the figure design focuses on mimetic aspects in order to create credibility and psychological depth. If thematic and didactic aspects are in the foreground, animals, robots, or other non-human protagonists can also become narrative figures – as in Aesop’s fables, in Disney films or in games – without losing credibility.

2.4 Anti-narrative Figures

Max Payne is a third-person shooter video game; the design is strongly influenced by the aesthetics of neo-noir and graphic novel. © Niranjan, 2004 on flickr under CC BY 2.0 https://www.flickr.com/photos/shany_410/11254934962004

The design dimensions described here can, of course, also be deliberately undermined. Thus, the concept of mimesis is called into question when a narrative figure becomes aware of its status as a narrated character – and thus communicates to the recipients that it is not taken from life but from a book or a film, like Harold Crick, the protagonist of the film Stranger than Fiction or Max Payne, the hero of the game series of the same name. Some storytellers even refrain from designing their characters with a clearly defined identity, such as Salman Rushdie, whose protagonist Gibreel from The Satanic Verses has several identities and is at the same time a Bollywood actor as well as the archangel Gabriel. In Beckett’s Waiting for Godot, the protagonists Vladimir and Estragon no longer have a consistent identity at all, and thus no thematic or mimetic credibility, nor a function within the plot. What would be perceived as a mistake in a prototypical narrative is, in this case, a consciously-set, artistic means of expression. Here the creator is actively working against the willing suspension of disbelief of the viewers in COLERIDGE’s sense. Intertextual procedures also reveal the artificiality of the text and the figures. For example, Turgenev in King Lear of the Steppes or Akira Kurosawa in Throne of Blood use figures that come from Shakespeare’s dramas as a reference to the original narrative and thus also to reveal their origin as imaginary figures that do not come from life.

Although this type of figure design is increasingly used in postmodern literature and contemporary drama, it would be wrong to see it as a narrative strategy. Empirical research suggests that a text must have an anthropomorphic, goal-oriented protagonist in order to be perceived as a narrative. In this respect, such design methods are to be regarded as anti-narrative; they are used to achieve an artistic effect, as shown by the example of the Beckett drama. However, they work with figures that are not to be regarded as prototypically narrative for this purpose.

Chapter 2 summary:

The imitation of acting people is foundational for a narrative, as Aristotle states. A narrative figure is a representation of a human character, which would describe the mimetic dimension, but there is also a functional dimension that describes the purpose of the narrative figure in the plot of the narrative. The thematic dimension describes a figure that represents a particular ideological or philosophical worldview. Such figures appear most often in narratives in which the center of the plot is the main character gaining knowledge. Most narrative figures unite all three dimensions of figure design, whereby the respective weighting differs according to the type of story and genre. In some narratives, this character design is undermined for artistic reasons, in which, for example, a figure is not assigned a clearly defined identity or is conscious of its status as a narrated character, thus questioning the mimetic dimension of the figure.

| EXERCISE:
| Find and name the archetypes in one of your favorite movies.
| Try to describe the thematic, functional, and psychological dimensions of one of your favorite narrative characters.

3 Setting – The Narrative Space

A story is spatially located – this statement is almost commonplace in narratology. It means that the actions and events of a narrative take place in one or more places – what is referred to as the setting in a dramaturgical terminology. But is the design of a narrative space subject to a narrative specificity or is it a purely descriptive representation because a story presupposes the space in which it takes place? In this case, a route description or driver directions would also fulfil all the criteria for defining a story. The driver, as a protagonist, is following directions, following a map, where they cross a given space and finally arrive at their destination. It’s likely that they must also overcome obstacles on the way that trigger conflicts, e.g. in the form of construction sites or traffic restrictions. A travelogue in a book or newspaper article could also be considered a narrative. Intuitively, however, such a text would not necessarily be defined as a story.

In this respect, one has to ask whether there are special strategies of narrative spatial design. As was already clear from the description of the narrative figure, the representation of a character of a story is subject to different design principles than in a purely descriptive text. This also applies to narratively depicted spaces.

For a long time, narrative spatial design was hardly an issue for structuralist narratology. One reason for this was probably to be found in the roots of narratology in linguistics and literary studies and the associated focus on literary narratives, thus, in turn, there is a focus on questions of temporality, narrator position, and narrative perspective. In fact, in contrast to visual narrative media such as film, comics or games, verbally conveyed narratives can even completely dispense with description of places. In jokes, for example, as a short form of narrative, often a dialogue takes place without a locality being depicted. Even if this may be a theoretical option in literature, narratologist GERARD GENETTE refers to the possibility of telling a story without location, while it would not be possible to situate it without temporal reference in the present, past, or future. Genette concludes that the temporal determinations of narration are more important than the spatial ones.

3.1 Juri Lotman and Semantic Space

The semiotician JURI LOTMAN, on the other hand, points out for the first time that it is precisely the design of space that is of decisive importance in the production of meaning.

“The most general social, religious, political, and ethical models of the world, with whose help man comprehends the world around him at various stages in his spiritual development, are invariably invested with spatial characteristics […] This property of spatial models is extremely important for art.” (318)

Lotman does not define more precisely what he understands as an artistic text, but since he develops his model paradigmatically through narrative texts, it can be assumed that he links his considerations to the narrative form. He calls the narrative text a “plot,” whereby for him this plot consists of three necessary elements:

1 “some semantic field divided into two mutually complementary subsets;

2 the border between these subsets, which under normal circumstances is impenetrable, though in a given instance (a text with a plot always deals with a given instance) it proves to be penetrable for the hero-agent;

3 the hero-agent.” (240)

Put simply, Lotman formulates a minimal definition of a narrative. For him, this consists of two spaces separated by a border and a protagonist, whom he calls “hero.” The most important and defining step in the plot is the hero-agent’s crossing of a border.

What is particularly important here is the concept of the “semantic field,” (97) which describes the narrated world. As shown, Lotman assumes that the human cognitive process and thus the production of meaning is primarily spatially organized, i.e., that space is the bearer of meaning, whereby Lotman is in agreement with more recent human geographical and cognitive psychological findings. According to Lotman, this semantization of space takes place in narrative texts on three levels: first, space is characterized by binary topological oppositions such as “above vs. below” or “inside vs. outside.” Second, the topological oppositions are linked to semantic oppositions such as “good vs. evil,” “protected vs. unprotected,” or “artificial vs. natural.” Third, in the narrated world, these oppositions are created by spatial conditions and topographically realized in the text of the narrative, for instance as mountain and valley, house and forest or – as Lotman shows in Dante’s Divine Comedy – heaven and hell.

The space in narratives is thus not a neutral container, but through semantization makes action in this space meaningful in the first place. This is where the second important term of Lotman’s definition comes into play, the border. For Lotman, the most important topological feature of space is the boundary, which divides semantic space into at least two subspaces in opposition, such as urban and rural space, or the profane world of everyday life in opposition to the magical world of adventure. In Lotman’s model, the motif of crossing the border is of particular importance: the border is impermeable and insurmountable for everyone except the hero of the narrative. Crossing the border defines him or her as the protagonist of the story.

Although he does not refer specifically to his works, Lotman is in agreement with the aforementioned anthropologist Joseph Campbell and his concept of the monomyth. Here, too, the moment of crossing borders is a constitutive element, from the world of profane and everyday life to the world of magic and adventure. Christopher Vogler, who has used Campbell’s insights as a structuring model for film dramaturgy, also recognizes the structural border between the 1st and 2nd acts in the hero’s transgression of boundaries. Campbell describes the semanticized spaces and their topological connections. According to Campbell’s observation, the hero is often prevented from crossing the border by a threshold guardian, which can also be depicted by a high wall or a large gate. In mythological narratives, these borders are usually positioned at the upper or lower end of the world – also topological attributions. Thus, the heroine in Mother Holle must first jump into a deep well, needing to reach the very bottom of a deep hole. Having arrived in the magical world, the heroine has to help Mother Holle, who is responsible for snowfall on planet Earth – and so, is carrying out her duties at the very top of the vault of heaven. The hero’s way back into the world of everyday life leads her through a large, magnificent gate where she receives her reward in the form of golden.

Frau Holle monument in the Frau Holle Park in Hessisch Lichtenau. Photo by Markus Kroll, Creative Commons license.

Lotman’s model can be especially useful when applying it to mythological narratives, not only to the original sagas and myths that Campbell has studied but also to narratives built on similar structural principles. Thus, in Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings, the hero Frodo has to move from his homeland, the green valley in the Shire, to the elevated, black Mordor, from bottom to top, from fertile land to barren mountains, from idyllic, good homeland to an evil foreign land. Only he and his companion Sam Gamgee cross the border to Mordor, where the giant spider Shelob guards the threshold. It should be noted that the border to Mordor is by no means the only one the heroes have to overcome. Middle Earth, the setting of the novel, is made up of a multitude of semantic spaces with different topographical features: the companions must cross the dangerous and enchanted Old Forest, they must climb the desolate, deserted Weathertop, and they must descend into the dark, underground mining town of Khazad-dûm.

Lotman’s model not only serves to analyze mythological plots but can also be applied to the study of modern literature, such as Thomas Mann’s novella Death in Venice, where the spaces Munich and Venice are semanticized by opposition couples such as home vs. abroad, land vs. the sea, hetero- vs. homosexuality. Crossing the border from Germany to Italy, Gustav von Aschenbach flees from the repressive bourgeois world in which he is forced to suppress his homosexuality. In Venice, he finds his sexual identity, but has to pay for this border crossing with his life.

The model is not only applicable to verbally conveyed narratives, but the semantics of space and the associated transgressions of boundaries can also, in principle, be depicted in all media. Although most of the film Titanic is set on the ship of the same name, semantic spaces can also be found here, including the boundary crossed by the main characters. The ship is divided into upper and lower decks, on which the members of the respective social classes travel, according to the topological classifications of the upper and lower classes. Jack, a penniless artist from the lower deck, meets Rose, a young woman from the upper class, while she is trying to kill herself. He prevents her from committing suicide and is invited to a dinner on the upper deck, thus crossing the semantic social border. He asserts himself in the upper ballroom during dinner and wins the dining party’s sympathy, although Ruth, Rose’s mother, challenges him with mocking remarks. Thus, Jack also proves that he is a real archetypal hero, a “master of the two worlds” (212–220) in the sense of Campbell because the hero of the monomyth can move in both rooms. But now it’s up to Rose to discover her potential as a hero. Jack invites her to a party on the lower deck. She sneaks out to the party, overcoming the topographical border, and then she goes, against convention, to the lower deck, and thereby also crosses a social border because as a member of the upper class she is not allowed to join the lower social classes. And she crosses another border as she celebrates on the lower deck because wild, exuberant dancing to bagpipes and fiddles is no suitable pastime for a girl from the upper class, which is made clear by a parallel-cut to the stiff, high-society activities happening on the upper deck. Rose also becomes a master of the two worlds when she impresses the party society on the lower deck with a dance routine and reaps applause for it. The Titanic is divided into top and bottom as described in Lotman’s model, with the semantic attributions of rich vs. poor, drive suppression vs. joy of life, and thus, also, reason vs. love. Rose loves Jack but is pressured to marry the wealthy Cal, because, as we learn in the course of the story, the father has left the family in debt.

The cover illustration of the novel Blauvogel: Georg Foster, descended of a white family, is now a member of the Iroquois Native American tribe. Courtesy of Verlagsgruppe Beltz.

Even in interactive media, corresponding design strategies are demonstrable. Lara Croft, the protagonist of the Tomb Raider games, is battle-tested, but at the same time a scientist, and thus a representative of rationality and civilization. Accordingly, she begins her first adventure in a luxury hotel, the Hotel Imperial in Calcutta. Soon after, we find her in a new semantic space and she has to fight her way through an inhospitable Andean landscape with towering mountains. In contrast to the narrow hotel space, the new topography is a wide mountain landscape, untouched by human civilization, highlighting the sense of oppositions of low vs. high, narrow vs. wide, and culture vs. nature. At the end of her journey through the Andes, the protagonist finds herself in front of a huge gate decorated with Aztec signs – the entrance to the ancient, ruined City of Vilcabamba. When Lara passes through the gate, she, the hero, crosses the threshold to the world of adventure in the sense of crossing the border, and thus begins the actual game in which the player can participate interactively – analogous to the movement Campbell suggests for the monomyth in which the main character crosses the border from ordinary to the magical world.

In the examples given above, it becomes clear that the consequences of a border crossing, even if it takes place, may differ: the hero can also fail in crossing the border or pay for it with his life, as Gustav von Aschenbach does. In Titanic, Jack also has to die, but thanks to him, Rose learns what she really wants and does not return to her old world but begins a new, self-determined life as an artist, using Jack’s last name. Her border crossing is successful and final.

In contrast, narratives in which the crossing of borders is reversed are also conceivable. In the 1950 western Broken Arrow, white adventurer Tom Jeffords crosses the border between the settlers’ land and the Native Americans’ and goes to an Apache tribe to negotiate peace with Chief Cochise. He gains the respect and friendship of the natives and finally marries Sonseeahray, the shaman of the tribe. When she is shot by a white man, however, Jeffords returns to his own settler world. The crossing of the border is reversed, probably also in consideration of the taste of the American public of that time. Anna Jürgen’s novel Blauvogel (Blue Bird), which was published in the GDR in the same year, describes a different movement. Nine-year-old Georg Ruster, a son of white settlers, is kidnapped and adopted by indigenous people. After having great difficulty getting used to life with the natives, he finally becomes a respected and beloved member of the tribe, taking his new Native name, Bluebird. When, under pressure from the white military, he is forced to leave the tribe and return to his old family, he finds himself alienated from his previous life and flees back to the indigenous tribe. His crossing of the border is therefore final. Stories that describe a constant crossing of borders and the associated transformation are also called revolutionary in narrative science. Texts that describe a failed border crossing such as in Death in Venice or a reversed border crossing as in Broken Arrow often confirm the status quo of a given order and are called restitutive.

| EXERCISE:
| Try to describe the oppositional concepts and spaces in your favorite narratives. Which borders are crossed, which semantical concepts are represented?

3.2 Other Options for Spatial Semantization

Lotman’s model is convincing in the practical design of narratives through its clear, comprehensible logic and simplicity. But at the same time, it can be overly reductive. For example, one has to ask whether there are always only two spaces represented in narrative reality. Authors from migrant cultures such as Hanif Kureishi or Zadie Smith thus consciously introduce further (intermediate) spaces, “contact zones” and “third spaces,” into postcolonial literature. Lotman, too, expanded his approach and introduced the concept of sub-semiospheres, through which, in turn, new spaces of meaning can be opened up.

In this respect, it must be examined to what extent Lotman’s considerations can also be meaningfully extended in practical application. It can be shown by some examples that a semantization of space cannot only be described in a topographical or topological dimension. If one examines the spatial design in The Lord of the Rings, for example, color semantization catches the eye. Spaces in which green dominates, such as The Shire or Lothlórien, have positive connotations, while in Mordor, the realm of evil, black dominates. In the Elvish language Sindarin, “Mordor” literally means “Black Land.” One could even interpret a phonetic-semantic design in the setting names. Thus, the vowels “o” and “u” obviously stand for the evil, black side. The refuge of the evil adversary Sauron, after his first defeat, is called Dol Guldur. Then he conquers the kingdom of Mordor, whose largest region is called Núrn and whose highest mountain rises on the Gorgoroth plateau. After the city of Minas Ithil is conquered by the evil Nazgûl, it is renamed Minas Morgul.

It must also be questioned whether the existence of two semantic spaces and the associated topographical boundary is in fact a fundamental condition for the subject of a narrative text. Even in the film, which is predestined for spatial depictions due to its visual level of reception, this is apparently not a compelling condition when one considers the genre of intimate theatre, e.g., Lumet’s 12 Angry Men, whose plot unfolds in a single jury room. This space is highly semanticized by the experiential knowledge of the recipient. The recipients know that justice is determined and administered in this space, that guilt and innocence and – in this concrete example – even life and death are decided here. But the border and the second semantic space are missing. Nevertheless, oppositional relationships can of course also be identified in this narrative, such as guilt vs. innocence, morality vs. law, racism vs. anti-racism, opportunism vs. loyalty to principles, but these are not bound to concrete spaces.

A similar problem arises when considering games, particularly the so-called “casual games” or games with less elaborate graphics and history. Especially in the early arcade games, there was often only a single game space or setting available, due to the lack of computer capacity at that time, e.g., in games like Pong, Space Invaders, or Asteroids. Since no second space can be constructed here with the corresponding oppositions, no border crossing can take place and semantization in the strict sense of Lotman is not possible. Nevertheless, these games contain narrative elements with the corresponding semantizations despite their simple graphics and limited representational potential.

Spacewars! is considered by many to be the first computer game ever made. Here the game is shown with original source code running on a PDP-1. Image moral authors: Martin Graetz, Stephen Russell, Wayne Wiitanen, Peter Samson, Dan Edwards, Alan Kotok, Steve Piner, and Robert A. Saunders.

In one of the very first computer games, Spacewar!, programmed in 1961 by students of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, the setting is the “final frontier” – the space beyond earth. This is fitting for the genre, because in all phases of the history of computer games the universe, foreign planets, space stations etc. are constantly recurring locations, be it in Galaga, Doom, or Halo. Space Invaders from 1978 is regarded as the first commercially successful space shooter and triggered the development of a whole series of games that also chose space as their setting. However, the design of the setting of these computer games is still rudimentary – in the case of Space Invaders there is nothing but four blocks behind which the player’s spaceship can seek protection. The setting is supported by other factors, such as the naming of the game and the design of the machine. Its surface is decorated with representations of aliens, rockets, planets, stars etc. to illustrate the science fiction setting of the game. With Phoenix and Galaga, the setting becomes more elaborate and already shows a star-studded galaxy in the background. It is not the richness of detail that is decisive here, but the semantization of the game space through the activation of a narrative script. Media scientist HENRY JENKINS calls this strategy of game design “evocative spaces.” He compares the game designer’s work here with the design of an amusement park, in which the attractions are often based on well-known narrative genres and settings such as the “wild west,” a fairytale environment, or a pirate ship. According to Jenkins, game designers use the same strategy. Because one falls back on the narrative competences of the recipients, the design of the world is often subcomplex and can be carried out in a suggestive or schematic way. In other words, games make targeted use of narrative archetypes or genres in order to semanticize space or integrate the game into a narrative context. The old arcade games, in particular, used this design strategy, since computer technology at that time did not allow sophisticated graphic representation. Thus, in Galaga or Space Invaders, not only does the game space contain rudimentary pixel aliens or spaceships, but also the arcade machine itself is decorated on its surface with aliens, comets, and ring planets to communicate to the recipient that this is a game in a science fiction setting, with the corresponding narrative tropes such as alien invasion, space battles, etc. Similarly, Ghost’n Goblins features ghosts, mythical creatures, knights, and princesses, both on the machine itself and in the game space, to situate the game in the fantasy and fairytale genre and thus activate the corresponding narrative scripts, with oppositional pairs such as everyday world vs. magical world, life vs. death, noble knights vs. dangerous mythical creatures, and beautiful princess vs. ugly monster.

However, there are other possibilities of semantization in the sense of an evocative space that do not necessarily have to resort to existing narrative genres. The handheld game Candy Crush Saga is one of the most successful casual games in history. The idea of the game isn’t new in itself. It’s a so-called “match three game,” (Juul 92) which is all about combining three game pieces of the same colour or shape. Shariki is the first computer game to use this game mechanic. The game is about exchanging neighbouring orbs on the playing field in their places so that three balls of the same colour are combined horizontally or vertically, whereupon they explode and make room for new balls. The game mechanics of Shariki were often copied, e.g. in Tetris Attack, Bejeweled or Candy Crush Saga. Bejeweled was a great commercial success and is considered one of the most important pioneers for the casual games. What is the difference between Shariki and Bejeweled, which both follow the same game mechanics? Apart from minor innovations, Bejeweled stands out for its more complex and sophisticated graphics. The pieces now differ not only in color but also in shape. Furthermore, they are not only abstract shapes or orbs, but Bejeweled game pieces are shaped like jewels. Candy Crush Saga continues in the design of the game space and the game objects. The game pieces differ in colour and shape and are based on sweets. Childlike characters in cartoon style, designed like puppets, lead the player through the setting, where places like the “Pastilles Pyramid,” the “Gingerbread Glade” or the “Bubblegum Bridge” are located.

Tiffi and Mr. Toffee, two of the characters from Candy Crush Saga, with a pot full of jewels. All elements of the game conform to the childlike and colorful design. © Nguyen Hung Vu, 2013 on flickr under CC BY 2.0 https://www.flickr.com/photos/vuhung/10405325514

In the course of the game, cut scenes introduce the problems of the inhabitants of the country: a unicorn has lost its horn, Lemonade Lake has dried up, the Yeti has gotten caught in a sticky-sugar mass. In short: all elements of the game space and the associated world, which were not yet present in Shariki or Bejeweled, are consistently committed to a childlike, colourful, innocent design. Here, too, one can speak of a semantic space, even if at first glance no second, complementary semantic space is realized and no border crossing takes place. But in the form of obstacles, which restrict the recipient in the combination of the game pieces, an oppositional principle breaks into the world of the Candy Crush Saga: black liquorice blocks the movements of the players; colourless jelly surrounds the game pieces and makes them immobile; dark brown chocolate appears in the playing field and restricts freedom of movement. The oppositions colourful vs. colourless, mobile vs. static, light vs. dark are realized here. It should be emphasized that Candy Crush Saga does not tell a real story. Nevertheless, many narrative design elements are used, most consistently spatial semantics. It is not conclusive to determine to what extent spatial semantics are responsible for the success of the game. Nevertheless, it is striking that the same game mechanics become more and more popular with increasing semantization.

In visual narrative media, this semantization can also be applied on a formal level, in which not only the narrated space is designed, but also the space in which the narrative is presented, such as in the first season of the TV series Homecoming. The series takes place on two time levels, in 2018 and four years later, in 2022. In 2022, the protagonist Heidi Bergman has lost her memory and no longer remembers the events of 2018, when she conducted a psychological experiment with war veterans. The two time levels are thus in opposition to knowledge vs. non-knowledge. The formal presentation space is also semanticized because the 2018 story is staged in the conventional 16:9 image format, while the plot in the future is presented in a smaller, square format. Moreover, this time level is desaturated and darker in color. In the 8th episode of the series, Heidi’s memory returns in 2022, followed by a transformational turn (see Chapter 6 Transformation) from non-knowledge to knowledge, which also changes the image format, back to 16:9 as in the past. When Heidi, in the tenth episode in 2018 takes the medicine that caused her to lose her memory, the opposite transformation from knowledge to non-knowledge is realized, thus changing the picture format again from 16:9 to the small, square picture. The different image formats thus not only serve to visually differentiate the time levels but also semanticize the states of knowledge vs. non-knowledge on a formal level.

The semantization of space as a narrative design strategy can thus take place on many levels and go beyond topographical and topological categories. Therefore, it does not have to be adapted to the reduced specifications of Lotman’s model. Nevertheless, it remains Lotman’s merit to have theoretically grasped and specified narrative spatial design and to have shown that the representation of space in narrative texts is different from that in purely descriptive texts. The semantization of space, one can formulate in relation to Lotman, is a distinct narrative strategy that can be applied transmedially.

3.3 Hierarchization of Spatial Events

Actions concerning space and its order obviously have a special meaning in narratives, when Lotman makes a border crossing a definitory prerequisite for the narrative form and the role of the hero. On this basis, the narratologist MICHAEL TITZMANN defines further spatial events and prioritizes them. According to Titzmann, an even higher significance than a border crossing is a so-called border shift. We encounter this motif again in many Westerns and other narratives in the United States that glorify the movement of settlers to the West. There, the white man not only changes the border, but with courage, energy, and determination, also brings law, order, and civilization into a country that was previously described as “uncivilized” – a semantization strategy that many narratives of colonial literature follow. The murder of the indigenous people, which went hand in hand with the moving of the border, was presented as a necessary price to pay for the establishment of the new order. This, of course, is a question of perspective: the rearrangement of the border can also be portrayed as a cruel invasion if it is depicted from the point of view of the indigenous people, as happens in Blue Bird. The myths and stories surrounding the Christian crusades also depict the history of border shifts. From the point of view of the western world, Christianity was brought back to the Holy Land in the course of the border shift, while many modern Muslim stories still portray the trauma caused by the foreign aggressors. But regardless of the reception, the destruction of a border is dramaturgically even more powerful than a shift. Stories that describe the liberation from a tyrannical despot or a totalitarian system often contain the dissolution of a border. Thus the five-part feature film epic Liberation released in 1970 is a dramatized account of the Second World War from a Soviet perspective. At the end of the film, the Soviet soldiers fraternise with German civilians, the political and semantic border that separated the two peoples no longer exists, and the Soviet flag flutters on the Reichstag. Accordingly, the film Good Bye Lenin! (2003) tells the story of the renewed border dissolution after the fall of the Berlin Wall. Protagonist Alexander Kerner’s mother Christiane, a loyal believer in the communist regime, is bedridden with a heart condition, so Alexander and the family try to conceal the fall of the Berlin Wall because Alexander believes that the shock of learning the truth would kill her.

The most significant event, however, is the extinction of a room: when an entire semantic room is destroyed or disappears. Examples of such events are the sinking of the Titanic, the destruction of the Death Star in Star Wars, or the demise of Mordor after the destruction of the One Ring. Mount Doom burns the remaining Nazgûl and covers Mordor with lava with its final eruption. Everything Sauron has built with the power of the One Ring is destroyed, along with its creator. The entire semantic space of tyranny he has erected is destroyed. When socialist rulers, in 1950, demolished the old Berlin City Palace, the resulting worldwide indignation was possibly due to the fact that the destruction of space is perceived as such an important event. The new socialist system, already responsible for a border shift, then destroyed the space of the old order by blowing up an already-damaged building.

Chapter 3 summary:

The space in which the actions and events of a story are portrayed is more than just a stage or a container; it carries meaning and contributes to the production of meaning on a semantic level. This was first described systematically by semiotician Juri Lotman. The setting is thus a semantic field divided into two semantically complementary fields separated by a border. Only the hero of the narrative can overcome this boundary. The two semantic spaces are shaped in topological, topographic, and semantic oppositions. However, a crossing of borders is not a compelling characteristic of every story; semantizations can also be realized without crossing borders, for example through colors, language or the activation of narrative scripts. Media scientist Henry Jenkins calls the latter strategy “evocative spaces.” Space events can also be hierarchized. A border shift or border dissolution is perceived as more significant than a border crossing, a maximally significant event is a destruction of space.

| EXERCISE:
| Please describe the semanticization of two opposite spaces in one of your favorite movies.

4 Binary Narrative Oppositions – Opposites Make Sense
4.1 The Meaning of the Narrative

Are there pointless stories? One may have this impression with so-called “fake news,” or with a surrealistic play. However, narrative science has established that stories should always communicate in a meaningful way. The literary scholar WERNER WOLF, for example, sees the narrative as an essential element which offers meaning for human existence, and even sees stories as the most important contribution to the human quest for meaning. In everyday language, this is reflected in Wilhelm Busch’s dictum of “the moral of the story” or in every literature teacher’s question about the author’s intention. At first glance, this finding may seem trivial. Shouldn’t all communication be meaningful? Even a lexical entry, an instruction manual or a mathematical formula such as a² + b² = c², which represents a basis for calculating the proportions of right-angled triangles, are meaningful communications – but they don’t appear to be narrative. The question arises as to the specific manner in which way narratives produce meaning.

It is, again, Juri Lotman who distinguishes the production of meaning in narrative and scientific texts when he writes:

“Scientific truth exists in one semantic field. Artistic truth exists simultaneously in several fields within their mutual correlation.” (249)

In scientific or instructive texts, such as instruction manuals, unambiguity is key. A mathematical formula should not allow room for interpretation but should communicate a clear calculation method. Artistic or narrative texts, on the other hand, permit an ambiguity from which a reader must first make sense.

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