Welcome to ‘episode’(?) two of Do While Thinking: a new-fangled experiment where I write about how I think about the things I am doing, the things I’m considering doing - or things that I will do as soon as the time is right.
I’ve been thinking (duh) about today’s piece for a very long time - for at least half a year, and I’m going to do it a disservice ‘cos I am writing it by 2:49am, half-asleep and with a brain filled, surprisingly, with Disenchantment quotes.
Ah - dang it. Let’s dive in.
King of [the] Boys
This is not insightful, or particularly useful, but Kemi Adetiba’s King of Boys seemed to have been greeted a little colder on Netflix than it was at the cinemas.
Does this mean anything? Perhaps not (although I had a conversation with someone over the weekend who planted the seed of an idea in my head - that when you ‘arrest’ cinema-goers - effectively holding them captive for two hours or so - they will find a way to enjoy almost anything, but when left to idly surf through TV at home, they will suddenly have demands).
On my third watch of King of Boys, it occurred to me that if you face away from the TV and let the dialog alone inform your impression of the movie, you could come up with an environment like this:
a. Small Earth: the world of KOB is much smaller than real-world Lagos. Characters had their stories crucially intertwined and motivations tangled up in some other character’s life arc that it was either entirely coincidental or deus ex machina. While likely, I don’t find those provisions especially interesting - so let’s go with my small earth theory. All you have to believe is that everybody in KOB lives in the same estate. Okay? Okay.
b. Everyone on this small earth is corrupt: Corruption appeared to be the common binder of all the actors - save for the hapless young detective. In that wise, he often gave me the impression that he was a younger, less intelligent version of Jim Gordon, who incidentally plays on his small piece of earth called Gotham. This parallel I have drawn is what forms the basis of this entire article.
Attached screenshot: notes from an animated project I’m working on with a small crew, titled Mainland
The truly interesting thing about King of Boys is that Kemi Adetiba may have just created a cinematic universe before our eyes.
A cinematic universe (star wars, Q Tarantino’s weirdly racist worlds, the MCU etc) have a few qualities going for them:
Clearly defined worlds with clearly defined logic. The logic powering those worlds also act as the world’s branding. There is only one world where saying ‘accio pancakes!’ will actually give you pancakes.
These worlds go through great lengths to plant the idea of expansiveness in your head (in Star Wars, for example, it’s the infinite vastness of space, and in the MCU it’s all the planets and multiple dimensions!) but the real playing field is often astonishingly small. Every thing of note happens on a spaceship, in Hogwarts or in New York.
Characters can rise to importance and be just as similarly dismantled - and if done well, the audience would still be thoroughly enthralled. Because - and this is important - the true protagonist of a cinematic universe is not the characters, but the world itself.
These are the reasons why I think KA (I’m going to call her KA now - I think after having written all that, I’ve earned some familial points) is sitting on a cinematic universe.
Awesome. Wow. Five stars. But that isn’t particularly useful to you. So, here’s the other half of my point: everything has a universe embedded in it.
If you buy my premise (albeit skeptically), your first question is: outside of movies and games, what does my universe look like?
To explore this, you’ll have to look no farther than your work history.
Small Earth Theory: LinkedIn
Curriculum Vitaes are structured using storytelling for a reason: they give your interviewer an easy-to-follow snapshot of all the mischief you’ve been up to before you landed in their office wearing that horrible lime-green shirt.
And so you put lipstick on that pig while the interviewer does their best to prod your CV and wait for it to squeal.
Unbeknownst to either of you, between the two of you, across the desk, lies a small universe…
It is difficult for you to separate yourself from the action, but think about your life - specifically your work history - through the eyes of a casual observer. As far as they are concerned the world is pretty tiny - it’s a list of companies that have hired you so far. You have been a recurrent character in these adventures - which is another feature of universes: repeat characters - and you’ve had good adventures and bad adventures.
The casual observer has to root for you because, due to the way this story has centered on you, you’re necessarily the protagonist. Your bosses have been stock, reusable villains, some of your colleagues have literally been the Magical Negro, etc.
Your CV, therefore, is a little IMDb of your life, but it really focuses instead on your roles in that unassuming small earth you’ve constructed.
[Aside: true to form, my small earth theory states that the playing field is always small, but appears to be large. You have only ever worked in a handful of places, but have the potential to work in hundreds of places.]
Over time, you will discover purpose and begin to fade into the backdrop - because ultimately, it is the world that is the protagonist. If you play in Yabacon valley, soon enough, Yabacon valley itself will become the obvious protagonist, and your CV will merge with other CVs to form the story of Yabacon valley.
An Embedded Universe, with you as a POV character.
The Utility of the Lens
Of course this is all wacky, dubious thinking. I did not promise anyone critical thought - just interesting ones. The truly most important question is “okay, but what do we do with all this?”
Understanding that you are in an Embedded Universe (or that you are embedding a universe in something!) is a great fourth-wall breaking event. That’s the point you stare at the camera, and the audience sees you seeing them, and suddenly you become more interesting.
I am talking about deliberately creating your universe once you understand the makings of a universe.
I should know. I did try to make a teeny tiny universe once.
Embedded Universe Theory
Whether you look directly at the camera or not, you are playing in an embedded universe. Understanding that the new thing you’re doing builds on the old thing you’re coming from allows you become more deliberate about working and living.
Viewing your life as playing out in an Embedded Universe makes you ask questions like:
What is the clearly-defined logic of my world?
Is breaking that logic an important plot point, or is it something that happens off-screen, with no utility to the narrative?
At any given time there are plots and subplots running in the embedded universe? Which is mine? Am I a B, or C character? How do I become an A character? Do I want to be an A character?
At what stage in my character arc am I? Am I undergoing the right character development? Have I been given the proper character treatment?
Am I working for or against my world (the original protagonist)? Is the world antagonistic, supportive or indifferent to my existence? How can I change that? Do I want to change that?
So many questions.
Closing notes
As I said earlier, I have not done this thesis any favors, and I was going to sit on this until I fleshed it out, but I’ve decided that this newsletter will ship articles without being precious about that. That’s the point isn’t it? To do while thinking?
I read responses and if they’re challenging/interesting enough, I would actually reply them.
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