When it comes to stories, everyone’s a critic. And they should be; narrative criticism is a vital enterprise. But that enterprise, I would argue, is marred by a major misconception. In their eagerness to discourse, people often confuse the ends and means of storytelling.
The end, or purpose, of a story is simply to be told. That’s all any story needs: a listener, and to keep that listener sufficiently invested. The means by which the story manages this may vary. There’s characters. Plot. Style. Themes. Ideas. Subtext. Any combination thereof can constitute a gripping story.
But many get it backwards. They believe the purpose of a story is to have fully realized characters, plot, style, themes, ideas, and subtext.
This belief makes for a forcible framework of narrative criticism. Every absence becomes a flaw. Does the film lack complex characterization, relying more on visuals and plot? Then it’s a “vapid effects movie with cardboard characters.” Does the episode prioritize atmosphere over story? Then it’s “filler”. Does the book include horrific deeds, but no subtext that condemns them? Then it’s got a “problematic message”. It’s not true criticism, but a great forgery of failures.
It reminds me of how many people talk about relationships online. They’ll list “loyalty”, “emotional intelligence”, and “financial independence” as indications of a successful pairing, and, in their maturity, forget “love”.
A story is like love. It’s a connection for the sake of connecting. An experience for the sake of experience. If it feels good, it is good. If a story can snare a listener, then it works. That’s the end of it.