Recycle, reuse, rehash

It’s hardly a novelty to realize that originality in storytelling is hard to come by. In class we learn that even in biblical times Ecclesiastes wrote that “nothing is new under the sun.” From epic poems to 3D movies, plotlines have always been somewhat formulaic: boy sets out on adventurous quest, boy meets girl, boy slays the dragon and wins girl’s heart, with some give or take. Jungian theory tells us these stories, all composed of the same basic formulas, stem from a collective human unconscious and reflect our shared experience. These formulas were once celebrated, not only creating a comforting sense of regularity that made characters more accessible, but also lending historical gravitas and majesty to a story.

But now, material is so reused that even King Solomon would roll his eyes with disbelief. This is not to say that formulaic stories are necessarily bad—when hearing a tale of a young hero setting off into the rising sun to find the golden fleece (or the golden ring or the golden ticket) no one rolled his or her eyes in boredom. “The Odyssey” is an archetypal work. “Hamlet,” “Star Wars,” and “The Crucible,” are archetypal works. “New Moon” (from the “Twilight” series), however, is not. Popular media has moved beyond just using the same formulas and now uses the exact same stories. Literally. Seven of the 10 highest grossing movies from the summer of 2009 were either sequels (“Night at the Museum 2,” “Ice Age 3”), adaptations from either print or another movie (“Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince,” “Angels and Demons,” “Star Trek”) or, quite impressively, straddling both categories, a sequel of a movie based on an 80’s cartoon—“Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen.” In this era of both economic frugality and environmental awareness, perhaps the push for recycling has gone a bit too far. Come February, it seems that there will be hardly enough candidates to fill the roster of “Best Original Screenplay” for the Oscars. (In the name of the recession, perhaps they should just strike the category. Better yet, forget the whole awards ceremony and cut the event after the red carpet, leaving America with what they really want: more room in Us Weekly for a thorough analysis of Angelina Jolie’s gown choice and its implications regarding a theoretical baby bulge.)

Some may argue that looking into the movie archives for inspiration doesn’t at all compromise artistic integrity. Broadway revivals are an excellent example of a refreshing exercise in resurrection. They re-examine a piece years later to test its relevance, and often find that, at the show’s kernel, there still remains pure, good ol’ fashioned entertainment. It’s a time-honored tradition looked upon with amusement, not frustration. But when sandwiched in between rehashed movies and plays that are simply lifting material from another source, these revivals get swept in with this nebulous new category that could potentially include productions based on the movie that is based on the novel that is inspired by the songs of Duran Duran.

I ran my observations by a friend as we emerged from a movie theater after watching “My Sister’s Keeper,” adapted from a best-selling Jodie Picoult novel (an author already quite fond of the reuse, reduce, recycle approach to plot). A film buff himself, he pointed out that many before me have already noted the stale repetitiveness of contemporary movies, an irony that he noted with great relish.

Furthermore, he challenged me to write my own completely original, 100% fresh and new screenplay that relied on no formulaic crutches, no familiar characters, no previously produced inspiration. I respectfully declined to accept his challenge.

The author is a sophomore in Barnard College. She is an associate editorial page editor.