Cerebral Cafe

Welcome to Cerebral Cafe! One of the things I love the most about reading is the opportunity to see into the past, to peek at other worlds (real or not). Cerebral Cafe is the page where I share some critical essays I've written and invite your comments, opinions, and perspectives. This cafe's BYOHC/T/C (bring your own hot cocoa/tea/coffee) policy lets you pick your poison, and as always, ladies and gents, civil discourse is the name of the game. Annnnd... GO!

Of Love and Honor: Elements of Feudalism, the Chivalric Code, and Courtly Love in The Lord of the Rings Trilogy of Films           

Feudalistic societies and their dependency on noble knights for the protection of their citizens ushered in the Code of Chivalry. These two concepts reached the height of popularity during the Medieval Age. For centuries this social framework offered structure, safety, and stability to millions of Europeans. However, it was not to last. Events such as the Black Plague and the Industrial Revolution opened the social stratum for a new middle class and pulled people closer to cities to find housing and employment. Though the necessity for and usefulness of the feudal system had run its course, some of its hierarchal ideals remained on the British Isles. The Code of Chivalry and its accompanying ideals revolving around courtly love bled into and blended with the brief but influential literary Romanticism movement of the nineteenth-century. However, with the advent of women’s rights in the mid-twentieth-century, courtly conduct toward women came under harsh criticism and was thought to be oppressive and unnecessary; it, too, seemed to go the way of feudalism. However, though many claim that chivalry is dead, elements of medieval concepts such as feudalism, the Chivalric Code, and courtly love are evident in the film adaptations of J. R. R. Tolkein’s iconic trilogy series The Lord of the Rings.

            Feudalism is blatantly evident within the fictional world of The Lord of the Rings. Colleen Donnelly states that “the social structure of Middle-earth…is clearly based on medieval historical models” (17). According to feudal tradition, it was the responsibility of the lord or king to keep his people safe. In order to do so, a cooperative effort was required from all levels of the society. Much like Hrothgar in Beowulf, Rohan’s Theoden King provides just such a society for his people. He employs an army of lesser-born nobles to protect his peasants just as his peasants provide his house with sustenance and goods. On the eve of war, he offers his great hall to all for both safety and revelry, much like Hrothgar offers his Heorot for similar gatherings. When Theoden’s people are attacked, he moves them to the secure location known as Helm’s Deep, a refuge for his entire kingdom. He leads his army ahead of the trailing masses in order to pave a safer path to the great sanctuary cut into the mountain. Theoden’s people love him and remain loyal to him because he honors the responsibilities of a good lord. But he would not be able to accomplish this without the loyalty of other men and women.

            The success of feudalism is directly linked to the efforts of those who have sworn fealty to their king, or more specifically who abide by the Code of Chivalry. A key component of the Code of Chivalry requires that knights and vassals “actively perform their assigned duties and willingly embrace the roles they must play, if society and their world are to survive” (Donnelly 18). This happens in several instances within the movie trilogy. For example, Eomir and the Rohirim remain loyal to their king and country despite their banishment. They ride the Riddermark, wiping out Orc hoards in an effort to protect their borders and the people they are sworn to serve. Circumstances also inspire the hobbits Merry and Pippin to swear their fealty and offer their services to the kingdoms of Rohan and Gondor respectively. However, one of the most pivotal examples of fealty comes in the form of the Dead Men of Dunharrow. Traitors in life, they had refused to serve or had chosen to abandon the king they had sworn fealty to. As a result, they are cursed and placed under an oath in death; they are sworn to do the bidding of the heir of Isildur. In a moment of greatest need, Aragorn calls upon this treacherous lot to honor the oath they had made centuries before. Because of his right as the heir of Isildur, the result of this pact wins the battle at the foot of Osgiliath for the race of men. Perhaps more importantly, he promises them freedom in return for their assistance. This is a mark of a true feudal king: the giving of gifts after the battles are won.

            Gift-giving is another element of the feudal system and chivalry that appears in The Lord of the Rings. The trilogy has been called “a twentieth century Beowulf”, and the tradition of gift giving is a well represented in both works (Thompson 59). However, the manner of gift-giving in The Lord of the Rings resembles a more genteel form of the tradition as seen in Arthurian works like Sir Gawain and the Green Knight and Marie de France’s “Lanval.” The elven queen Galadriel is a wonderful example of the more refined aspects of the ancient gifting tradition. When the Fellowship approaches her borders, she offers them shelter and wise counsel. She feeds them, clothes them, and offers each member of the party a personalized gift that will aid him on the rest of his journey. She is the epitome of a generous liege, harboring no malice, giving generously, and offering what she can to assist the brave adventurers. But her role in the trilogy surpasses that of gift giver to include the concept of courtly love.

            Many would argue that The Lord of the Rings trilogy is not romantic because “Tolkien’s world of men seems…very chivalric in its philosophy of leaving women behind” (Hatcher 43). Yet the element of courtly love appears in abundance. Peter Jackson’s film interpretation of the novels supports and embellishes on the idea that “Tolkien stresses the importance of women as healers or protectors of Middle-earth and the human spirit” (Hatcher 45).  Galadriel herself is depicted as the pinnacle of purity. Not even the grousing, prejudiced dwarf Gimli can withstand her all-encompassing charms. Like Lanval with his fairy queen, Gimli is instantly entranced with Lady Galadriel’s unparalleled beauty. Due to the long history of animosity between the two races, the interaction between the two is unorthodox though it is still considered an appropriate example of courtly love as both are of noble birthrights. It is also a pure example of courtly love, in that Gimli worships the elf queen, and wishes only to look upon her beauty. The sole boon he asks of her is one strand of her golden hair to keep as a remembrance, and in the tradition of magnanimous courtly gestures, Galadriel exceeds his request and offers him three. Though this interaction between the unlikely pair is noteworthy, the true representation of courtly love is most evident in the relationship of Aragorn and Arwen.

            Arwen, as Hatcher puts it, “is the exalted chivalric ideal of a woman…[the] symbol of the unattainable” (Hatcher 46). In the film version of the trilogy, the elven princess Arwen ties her fate to the fate to the Dunedain ranger Aragorn and to that of Middle-earth.  Before he leaves her, Arwen gives Aragorn a token to bind him to her, a silver filigreed pendant that represents her love for him. With this symbolic gesture, she pledges her devotion to Aragorn and he to her. Beyond that point, her role in their romance is inactive, other than to serve as an inspiration and a motivation for Aragorn’s success. She, like her Arthurian counterparts (Guinevere specifically), leaves her fate in the hands of a warrior. If Aragorn fails in conquering the forces of evil, Arwen will succumb to darkness and die. However, he does not fail, and thus wins Arwen as the bride of his heart. This aspect of their courtly romance can also be tied back to the feudalistic tradition of peace-weaving even though it is a voluntary union, as the marriage unites the races of Elves and Men. Ultimately, it is the hope of their love that binds Middle-earth under the feudal banner of unity and fidelity.

            Though many of the traditions of chivalry have long since died, the romantic ideals live on in the hearts and literature of modern societies. The Lord of the Rings books and films have remained popular because they herald back to a time when honor and loyalty took precedence over greed and hubris. Though feudalism may no longer serve the societal needs of modernity, there are some aspects of the past that resonate with those who value the same things that set chivalric knights and their lords and ladies on the literary map in the first place. Hope, love, courage, and the desire for community will forever be a part of the human race, no matter the year on the calendar!

Works Cited

Donnelly, Colleen. "Feudal Values, Vassalage, and Fealty in The Lord of the Rings." Mythlore 25.3/4 (2007): 17-27. Web. 30 Aug 2015.

Hatcher, Melissa McCrory. "Finding Woman's Role in The Lord of the Rings." Mythlore 25.3/4 (2007): 43-54. Web. 30 Aug 2015.

Thompson, George H. ""The Lord of the Rings": The Novel as Traditional Romance." Wisconsin Studies in Contemporary Literature 8.1 (1967): 43-59. Web. 30 Jul 2015.

Reflections in a Warped Mirror: Reversed Gender Roles in The Hunger Games and Gone Girl

For centuries, women have struggled against rigid, patriarchal oppression in order to earn private and societal equality. As the movement has progressed, the need for a solid definition of their role in modern society has arisen.  Within the past twenty years, media outlets have increasingly embraced this cause with an almost overwhelming passion for endorsing female empowerment. As society (and its reflective media) has become more obsessed with promoting the image of the powerful, independent woman, scrutinization of traditional gender roles has become necessary. As more women embrace feminist tenets, the pressure to conform to progressive standards inevitably extends to men. Consequently, the resulting challenges involved in reconciling traditional gender roles with evolving modern ideals has increasingly become a hot topic in society’s collective conversation. Novels like Suzanne Collins’ The Hunger Games and Gillian Flynn’s Gone Girl suggest the social impact of redefining gender roles not only through notably masculinized females like Katniss Everdeen and Amy Elliott Dunne, but more significantly through the feminized characterizations of their male counterparts, Peeta Mellark and Nick Dunne. Within these two vastly different men, both authors challenge accepted ideas about masculinity and femininity in a manner that compels audiences to acknowledge and internalize the distortions between traditional and modern concepts of gender roles in relationships; this, in turn, contributes to the novels’ resonating popularity.

On the surface, both Collins and Flynn infuse Peeta and Nick with traditionally desirable male traits. For example, in regard to their physicality, they are characterized as handsome, charming, and virile. Both men possess solid, marketable skills and are capable of providing a comfortable living for themselves and a prospective family. These characters also support accepted concepts of stereotypical masculinity through Peeta’s brute strength and aptitude for “hand-to-hand combat” (The Hunger Games 96) as well as through Nick’s infidelity and ability to “turn off his emotions like a spout” (Flynn 94). However, these few masculine characteristics are where their alignment with traditional male roles peters off. While Peeta and Nick are miles apart in regard to personality, motivation, and social status, it is through their unique circumstances and relationships which Collins and Flynn present very different versions of the feminized man.

In Collins’ The Hunger Games, the affable baker Peeta Mellark is a foil for the pragmatic hunter Katniss Everdeen. Though Peeta is a man living in a patriarchal society, his social position does not coincide with that of the privileged Capitol men. In addition to his diminished status within Panem, he also suffers abuse at the hands of his domineering mother (The Hunger Games 30). Similar to generations of women, these converging circumstances render Peeta a marginalized citizen within his society as well as within his own home, and he appears to embrace his role without complaint. Unlike Katniss who takes upon herself the masculine role of provider, Peeta spends his life in a kitchen. He is “the handsome sensitive baker’s son” (Oliver 678), “the boy with the bread” imbued with attributes comparable to the loaves he bakes: warm, wholesome, and solid (The Hunger Games 93).  Additionally, Peeta’s “softer more loving” disposition is a stark contrast to Katniss’ decisive aggression (Oliver 680).

Peeta’s gentle personality before and during the Games is the antithesis of Katniss’ cold, calculating demeanor. For instance, despite the fact that he has the physical strength required to be a contender in the brutal Hunger Games, he is not inclined to use this trait; in fact, he brushes off the notion that it is in any way to his advantage (The Hunger Games 90). Instead, he ingratiates himself to the audience, using his “self-deprecating humor” to “appeal to the crowd” (The Hunger Games 116). By confessing that he has “had a crush on [Katniss] ever since [he] can remember”, Peeta wins sympathy not only for himself, but for Katniss, as well (The Hunger Games 130). When he does this, Katniss suspects that he has fashioned the image of “the star-crossed lovers” to weaken her position (The Hunger Games 135). While she can accept that his stratagem has merit—especially if it succeeds in giving her an advantage—she refuses to accept that Peeta might actually have feelings for her; she does not want to think of him “as simply kind” (Hansen 163). Katniss’ reaction to his authentic feelings demonstrates her discomfort and unfamiliarity with traditional feminine characteristics of romantic love, compassion and kindness— attributes that the feminized Peeta is neither confused by nor afraid to express (The Hunger Games 135). Yet, it is “Peeta’s vulnerability [that] attracts Katniss to him” (Oliver 680). It is ultimately “his nonstereotypical masculinity… [that] complements her nontraditional femininity” in a way that eventually creates a balanced, albeit a traditionally backward, partnership (Hansen 175). The stability in their relationship is an encouraging one for audiences to ponder. However, not all fictional relationships are as poised for success.

If Peeta and Katniss represent a warped but positive reflection of gender roles in relationships, Nick and Amy Dunne illustrate the darker side of gender role reversal. In his article “Love, Marriage, and Other Relationships”, psychologist Gerd H. Fenchel comments that “most analysts believe that unresolved issues we carry … into adult life will be displayed in our intimate relationships” (7). While Gone Girl’s Nick seems to be a typical male on the surface—especially as portrayed in Diary Amy’s depictions—“he is a man of a million little fatherly stab wounds” whose efforts to not become his father ultimately leads him to identify more with his independent over-indulgent mother and twin sister, Go (Flynn 472). He has been enabled his entire life by strong women and has no incentive to change. When he meets and marries Amy during her Cool Girl phase, Nick is conditioned to accept this reality and is temporarily allowed to continue “to [glide] through life with … his beloved-child entitlement, his fibs and shirkings, his shortcomings and selfishness” intact (Flynn 316). Even after he realizes that Amy is not who she had pretended to be, he turns to Andie, another aggressive woman who ironically shares a name with Able Andy, the fictionalized mate of Amazing Amy. It is this affair that sends Real Amy over the edge and leads to Nick’s emasculation—first through public suspicion and then through Amy’s private manipulation. In his efforts to avoid becoming an abuser, to avoid becoming like his father, he instead assumes the traditional female gender role of victim.

Though Amy’s return from the dead releases Nick from the threat of the death penalty, he is now trapped into serving a veritable life sentence with a psychopath for a roommate. Even as he daydreams about killing her, of being free of her brand of violence, he lacks the conviction and bravery to face his attacker. When he confronts Amy about her crimes, about wanting to leave her, she asserts her dominance in the relationship, making it clear that there is no escape. Only then does he realize that by taking the less aggressive approach and giving her exactly what she wanted—“the man he was pretending to be … I love that guy. That’s the man I want for my husband. That’s the man I deserve” (Flynn 526)—Nick has trapped himself in a toxic relationship. Akin to many battered women, instead of seeking a way out, he accepts his fate. With his child’s life hanging in the balance, he agrees to be half of a publicly perfect pair who privately “complete each other in the nastiest, ugliest possible way” (Flynn 527). This final act of maternal motivation seals Nick’s destiny as a feminized victim leads audiences to consider “the underside of things” they’d much rather avoid (Flynn 148).

As the media continues to tout female empowerment, it is important to bear in mind that “relationships are molded by the present culture and the society of a specific era” (Fenchel 2). If art truly reflects life, then books like The Hunger Games and Gone Girl produce some pressing social questions, questions like can we create a gender equality that looks different from accepted traditions? and will a shift in traditional roles truly conquer misogyny or will a misandristic society evolve in its wake? Audiences cannot help but notice that Katniss and Amy’s nihilistic rebellion against conventional femininity would not be as powerfully portrayed without the foils of Peeta and Nick, that these men serve as a catalyst for the empowerment of each respective woman. These men also reflect a cultural need for revised definitions of masculine gender roles. Through their characterizations of Peeta and Nick, Collins and Flynn submit for public consideration the idea that men can nurture and that a husband can be the victim of domestic abuse. While these notions are not new, they are rarely discussed, often ignored details in the warped reflection our cultural mirror provides. As a modern society’s definitions of gender roles and relationships continue to evolve, criticism of such compelling couples like Katniss and Peeta and Nick and Amy Dunne will instigate closer examination. Should personal introspection result from that scrutiny, it is possible that the underlying message contained in The Hunger Games and Gone Girl could inspire the acceptance of authentic individual contributions within relationships and contribute to liberation from societal pressures to conform.

Works Cited

Collins, Suzanne. Catching Fire. New York: Scholastic, 2009. Print.

—. The Hunger Games. New York: Scholastic Press, 2008. Print.

Fenchel, Gerd H. "Marriage, Love, and Other Relationships." Issues In Psychoanalytic Psychology 35 (2013): 1-36. Web. 12 Jun 2015.

Flynn, Gillian. Gone Girl. New York: Broadway Books, 2012. Print.

Hansen, Kathryn Strong. "The Metamorphosis of Katniss Everdeen: The Hunger Games, Myth, and Femininity." Children's Literature Association Quarterly, 40.2 (2015): 161-178. Web. 13 Jun 2015.

Oliver, Kelly. "Ambiguity, Ambivalence and Extravagance in The Hunger Games." Humanities 3.4 (2014): 675-686. Web. 25 June 2015. <www.mdpi.com/journal/humanities>.