The Dance of Deconstruction
Deconstruction is a concept I greatly enjoy, yet almost anytime I hear someone use that word, part of me winces involuntarily. It’s begun to pop-up more frequently in recent years, from TV shows to movies to the actual place I first saw the concept utilized: cooking. Unfortunately, it’s rarely an indication of quality, or even someone properly understanding what the purpose of the method is.
More often, you’ll see “deconstruction” slapped atop a work that wants to play in a specific genre without adhering to the formula/tropes/patterns that mark the genre. Much as it’s become a punchline, Man of Steel would be an example most people are familiar with, though this is certainly not a Snyder-only sin. A lot of people love to use that label, often retroactively, to excuse their work as something the world “just wasn’t ready for”.
Now, harsh as I’ve been out of the gate, deconstruction actually does involve working in a genre without adhering to it’s usual conventions. The thing is, that’s only the first step in a longer process, not the point at which your work is a brilliant take-down of some existing media. Which means in order to really discuss deconstruction, we need to take a step back and appreciate the purpose of it.
I’m going to use cooking for this analogy, because its where I’ve most often seen deconstruction executed well. To deconstruct a dish is not, as some lazy chefs will try to pitch, merely breaking a dish down to it’s base ingredients and finding ways to re-arrange them. Rather, it is a process of taking the dish apart to it’s mechanical levels. Yes, ingredients are part of this, but far more relevant are elements like taste and texture.
Deconstructing a chicken parmesan is not just about putting chicken and cheese into a waffle then tossing on some marinara and saying all the elements are present. It’s about breaking down every part of the eating experience, then working to replicate those facets in new ways. Want to take away the cheese? Fine, but you have to be adding something that brings the similar flavors and replicates the chewy texture. Beyond that, there are elements of removal and streamlining, taking out part of the recipe that might be more tradition that function.
A well-deconstructed chicken parmesan would be a dish that still tasted and felt like eating chicken parmesan, even if the appearance, execution, or other elements had been severely altered by the chef. In the same way, a well-deconstructed work of art should also function as a version of that genre.
Moving away from food to something a little more visual, Behind the Mask: The Rise of Leslie Vernon is one of the few excellent film deconstructions I’ve seen in the last few years. Some spoilers ahead, but if you haven’t watching this one, pick it up. BtM is about an aspiring serial killer named Leslie Vernon, essentially a charismatic Michael Myers in training, agreeing to be recorded by a documentary crew. In explaining his schemes, plans, and tactics, Leslie breaks down a lot of the tropes from slasher movies, offering attempts at explanations such as lots of cardio, hidden tunnels, and prepared kill sites.
The movie does an wonderful job playing with the ideas of a slasher, taking away so many of the mystical elements that make them scary, however it doesn’t merely stop there. Leslie doesn’t debunk, he recontextualizes. Teleporting isn’t real, yet when you see him pull the same tricks later in the movie, it doesn’t bump you for a moment because you know Leslie had a way of moving about. And it does come into play, because this movie doesn’t merely examine slasher films, it also turns into an outstanding one in the final act. There’s a reason people have started regarding it as a cult classic.
There is something of a theme I’ve noticed in the deconstructions that are semi-successful, and that’s love for the source material. Generally speaking, as there are always exceptions, it’s hard to properly deconstruct something you don’t enjoy. It’s incredibly easy to do poorly, mind you, ripping out the junk you don’t like and calling it a day. Rebuilding the genre you’ve just taken apart to base components takes a lot of thought and care, not to mention understanding the way the pieces fit together. Movies like Behind the Mask work so well because there is palpable love for slasher movies dripping off the screen, from the cameos to the references to the structure of the plot itself. There’s never a sense that it’s trying to belittle you for loving them, only the earnest attempts of someone striving to add new dimensions to the genre.
If you really want to take deep stabs at a topic, then satire is more likely the tool you’re looking for. While it shares many of the same elements of deconstruction, here is where you don’t need to bother with the rebuilding or expanding. Skewer the tropes, make the jokes, and that’s enough. Mind you, good satire also requires an exceptional understanding of the topic-at-hand, unless you want to end up in Not Another X Movie territory.
With all of that grand speechifying out of the way, there is one last point to hit: deconstruction is not an all or nothing game. You could write a perfectly trope-stock series about kids attending a magic school, playing it by the number the whole time, except for one of the helpful teachers, who you decide to deconstruct. Messing with the “hesitant guide” tropes alone, you tweak that character into something strange and unique, all while still surrounded by the expected versions of everything else.
Deconstruction doesn’t need to be a big thing you sit down to do, and in fact, most often shouldn’t be. It can exist as a small, constant process in your mind, turning old ideas and situations around to see new version of how they might fit together. Assuming it’s something you’d like to tackle, I’d say start small, with one character/setting/element that you feel could be reshaped and improved. Take it apart, examine every piece, and then see what can be stripped away, replaced, and added on to make the best possible version.