You Can't Make This Stuff Up

On true crime, Chaos theory, and studio Ghibli; based on true stories.

A couple of years ago I had a conversation with a producer that I was working with. We would often discuss true crime stories which could potentially inspire the next TV show or film project. In this conversation, we spoke about a podcast we were both listening to. In Napleiten, meaning ‘arguing further after the case in Dutch’, each episode the hosts — a crime journalist and criminal defense lawyer — are joined by public prosecutors and lawyers, to delve into extraordinary criminal trials. These cases can range from alleged attempts at manslaughter to incest, from dark web activities to a diamond heist. One thing is certain, the details of these cases make you understand Mark Twain’s quote ‘Truth is stranger than fiction.’

Zodiac (2007), written by James Vanderbilt, directed by David Fincher

I believe most of us are aware of the intricacies of the human mind and what people are capable of. We observe this in true crime TV shows and movies based on true events. Just have one look at this list of famous books, films and series:

• 12 Years a Slave

  A free black man from upstate New York, is abducted and sold into slavery. For the next twelve years he is forced to work on two Louisiana plantations.

• The Serpent

  A serial killer murders Western backpackers, who are going through the “Hippie Trail”, exploring Southeast Asia.

• Into the Wild

  A young man gives up everything, including a trust fund and ties to his immediate family, to lead a solitary life in the wild.

• Les Intouchables

  An unlikely friendship develops between a wealthy quadriplegic and his caretaker, just released from prison.

• Hachikō Monogatari (remake — Hachi: A Dog’s Tale)

  A college professor's bonds with the abandoned dog he takes into his home. When he unexpectedly passes away, the dog continues to wait at the station each day for nearly a decade, faithfully hoping for his owner's return.

• The Big Short

  A group of investors bet against the United States mortgage market. In their research, they discover how flawed and corrupt the market is.

One might argue that these stories are indeed partly true, but that they have been dramatized in order to appeal to audiences in its high-end drama format. I cannot argue against this, seeing as — for the most part — these stories do add their own storylines, characters, and even plots in order to create a coherent film or book for said audiences. Still, reality does not owe us coherence.

Zwartboek (2006), written and directed by Paul Verhoeven, co-written by Gerard Soeteman

There is a Stanford lecture by professor Robert Sapolsky, where he mentions chaos theory, and references the book by James Gleick discussing this theory. After listening to a couple of his lectures, I decided to purchase this book to further develop my understanding of chaos theory. Unfortunately, my knowledge of the field is fairly limited and after trying to re-read the first three chapters over and over, I decided to admit to my scientific limitations and put the book down. But this did not weaken my interest in this theory. Quite the opposite.

There is one lesson I did take away from this book. Gleick argues that over time, even the most predictable systems behave in unexpected ways. Scientists often resist chaos, seeing as it goes against intuition and this chaos does not only emerge in grand events, but even in the small and mundane.

Edward Lorenz was a meteorologist who wanted to better understand the weather. He thought that if he were to measure exactly how the air is moving today, he could predict the weather of tomorrow. So he made a computer model of the atmosphere. Lorenz wanted to save time, so he made a tiny difference in his computer by just rounding up a number — typing 0.506 instead of 0.506127 — which completely changed the entire prediction.

This was revolutionary. Instead of sun the machine would for example predict rain. Instead of stormy weathers the wind would be calm. Small and almost invisible differences can generate hugely different outcomes, meaning that we are never able to predict anything seeing as the tiniest detail can completely change everything. Much of the world is governed by this same unpredictability, so it is impossible to know what the future holds. This thought can be both exciting and unsettling.

I’m Thinking of Ending Things (2020), written by Charlie Kaufman

How does this theory apply to fiction?

In storytelling, we are taught to follow a clear structure, which wraps into a more or less predictable ending, but could be understandable due to the nature of the story. We know that Batman will eventually defeat the villain, but we want to know how he will do it. How will he be challenged, and what methods will he use to overcome these challenges? Even surrealist writers such as Charlie Kaufman, [Being John Malkovich (1999), Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004), Synecdoche, New York (2008)], tend to follow a certain structure that — though more complex in its nature — is still understandable when applied to story theory.

Who does it differently?

There is an exception to every rule. Not every film follows a similar structure to the “Hollywood-esque” type of storytelling we are used to. My first thoughts go to the animation films, produced by Studio Ghibli. In his films — such as My Neighbor Totoro, Princess Mononoke, and Spirited Away — Hayao Miyazaki uses a method of storytelling that date to ancient times in Japan, called Kishōtenketsu. This structure resonates with chaos theory more than our Western storytelling.

Princess Mononoke (1997), written and directed by Hayao Miyazaki

To Western viewers, Ghibli films might appear to be chaotic, structureless, and perhaps even confusing. Kishōtenketsu stands for Ki (起) = introduction; Shō (承) = development; Ten (転) = turn / twist; and Ketsu (結) = resolution. Unlike Western films, these films do not rely on hero/villain characters, a central conflict, huge emotional build-up, wrapped up in a tidy arc. This substack article explains Ghibli storytelling beautifully.

Perhaps we can examine this structure through one of his famous films — Spirited Away.

A 10-year-old girl, named Chihiro, travels with her parents to their new home. When taking a shortcut, they come across an abandoned town with an empty restaurant full of food, which Chihiro’s parents eagerly begin to eat. Meanwhile, the little girl explores the town, finding a bathhouse and meets a boy, Haku, who warns her to return across the riverbed before sunset. But by now spirits have started to appear. Chihiro goes back to the restaurant to discover that her parents have been transformed into pigs, and the river has been flooded. They cannot cross it anymore. The story unfolds as Chihiro starts working at the bathhouse, meeting workers and spirits, life there enters into a routine.

Spirited Away (2001), written and directed by Hayao Miyazaki

In the beginning one might suspect that Chihiro will have to defeat her boss at the bathhouse — the witch Yubaba, who steals workers’ names and controls them through labor and fear. However, in the film Yubaba is not presented as a villain. She is merely a manager who wants what is best for the bathhouse. Thus, he acts greedy when that greed is necessary, but acts with kindness where appropriate. The film is not about Chihiro trying to defeat the '“evil” Yubaba, trying to change this world and overthrow the system. Instead, the little girl learns the rules of the world, slowly becoming more capable, understanding how to navigate it. Even though the system does not change, Chihiro does.

Yes, there are spirits, mysticism, and fantastical elements, but aside from these elements, Ghibli films do mirror real life. And just like in Chaos theory, the films are characterized by structured unpredictability. It unfolds slowly, each small change happening moment by moment — without radically exploding into huge conflict — which in the end reveals how all these tiny details had a big impact. In essence, Kishōtenketsu storytelling truly mirrors real life, where one might not understand the importance of each small moment, though in the end they all make sense after all.

Now back to reality.

The Spy (2019), written and directed by Gideon Raff, co-written by Max Perry

Real life can be both mundane and grandiose. In the podcast mentioned earlier, the hosts discuss incidents which can almost feel surreal at times. As in other true crime we are familiar with, horror stories about pedophilia, murder, war, and so on happen on a day to day basis. Things are constantly changing, though not always happen through meaning and understanding, as in fiction. When it comes to true stories, we cannot always wrap them up in a nice structure, where the grandiosity or chaos is justified.

To continue Twain’s quote: ‘Truth is stranger than fiction, but it is because fiction is obliged to stick to possibilities; truth isn’t.’

In other words: fiction has to make sense. Reality doesn’t.