There are many times when I start out writing a film and ponder setting those two letters next to my main character’s name; V.O.  I once heard an interview with a very prominent director who said he hated using voice-over in a film because, essentially, it was cheating.  It was taking the easy way out by allowing the audience to peer into that character’s inner thoughts without having to show them.  This has always stuck with me whenever I seriously considered using this form of storytelling.

Why is it so wrong to have a narrator?  First off, I don’t appreciate being asked such a loaded question.  Secondly, when dealing with any creative “art” there are really no rights or wrongs.  The only way to make a decision about anything is to weigh the pros against the cons and go from there.

PROS:

COMFORTABILITY - When one goes back to some of the oldest stories mankind has to offer, a common denominator is found.  The Narrator.  Audiences are very used to the practice of having an omnipotent entity to guide them through the course of the story.  When thinking of film, it should actually somewhat of a jarring concept.  Some disembodied voice is telling us what we should know.  Why do we trust a headless, bodiless ghost?  Maybe it all goes back to spirituality.  If we think of our own lives in the Real World, if we hear a voice coming from nowhere in particular, we pay attention and come to two conclusions.  It is a ghost, or it is God.  Or both, if we’re talking about the Holy Ghost.  But I digress.

But let’s take this concept a bit further. If we hear the voice of God talking to us, it’s probably because He has something pretty important to tell us.  Let’s face it, God doesn’t make a whole lot of housecalls nowadays.  What am I trying to say here? I’m saying that deep down we think that we should listen to what a narrator says because they are the ones in control. It is their story to tell. They exist, ostensibly, outside of the realm of time and space in which the film takes place. Stories are not stories unless they are passed on or told.  Otherwise, they are memories.  This is also one of the few instances of near immortality on earth.  Stories can transcend time.  One of the beautiful characteristics of a story, and sometimes devastating as well, is that they can always change.

To a new audience, a story only exists as it is told to them.  As they experience it.  The narrator has all the power to change whatever he or she sees fit.  And let’s face it, human memory is not always the most reliable thing.  A single forgotten point, a name, a place, a quip, can be lost forever depending on how much ginko the storyteller took the night before.

But aside from that tangent, the point here is that audiences sometimes like the helping hand when being led through a strange forest.  It is comforting knowing that they have someone they can trust who chimes in every once in a while to fill them in when they may be lost.

Think for a moment about the effect when reading or writing.  You have a voice in your head (hopefully just one) reading the words to you.  Your own personal narrator.  It is simply how the human brain functions.  We do not visually process the meaning of the words without “sounding” them out in our heads.

This is why we are comfortable with the concept of a narrator.  He represents the voice within our own heads.  We trust him.  How many evil narrators in films can you think of?  It is a convention of films and stories that the narrator is trustworthy.  At the very least it is understood that he/she knows more than we do and so we go along with them.  How could we as an audience know their story better than they do anyway?

EASY RELAY OF INFORMATION – So we’ve established that the narrator for the most part knows more than we do.  It’s THEIR story. We accept this and move on.  Now take into account the fact that audiences need to know as much about what’s going on as possible.  Also take into account that films, for the most part, are becoming bigger, faster, and more novel-like. By which I mean that movies are trying to cram as much information into ninety minutes as they possibly can.  What better way to go about that than to add a player outside of the story who can chime in and give a bit more info?

This is the point at which some would argue that the filmmaker is babying the viewer by giving them absolutely everything necessary to conclude the movie on their own.  Withholding information can be an extremely powerful tool when done correctly.  Audiences like to feel smart.  They want to think that they can outsmart the film.  Figure things out before they come to their obvious conclusion.

This is also the point at which I, the narrator of this blog, realizes that I need to get some sleep.  Stay tuned for part II of the Narration argument.