Coriolanus Snow: We all do things we’re not proud of to survive.
The new ‘Hunger Games movie’, A Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes strikes me as mandatory viewing for our modern times. Director Francis Lawrence refuses to shy away from the gore or to mask the grittier aspects of this modern-day dystopia. The sounds of machine gun fire that fill the theatre, of assault weapons and battered children, all strike a little too close to home in our turbulent times.
Photo: Lionsgate
The words that came to mind, while still in the theatre, were jarring and anxiety-inducing. There was certainly a strong sense of unease amid the audience. And to think we’d got off lightly… after all, we were viewing the story from the victor’s side. Imagine hearing the same haunting story from the losing side, that of the districts. Actually, take a long enough walk, you don’t even have to imagine it anymore.
Much as I love a strong script and a good director (and this movie has got both), my attention kept fleeing from the storyline to the growing similarities with our world. Naturally. That’s the point of dystopia.
Just as it is the point of a good director and crew to know why a story needs to be told at all, and why it needs to be told now. Hunger Games: A Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes is a tale that needs telling now. Not because the book came out a few years ago, and it’s reasonable to get the movie out, too. But because we’re slipping ever closer to scary movie stuff, guys, and we really need to wake the fuck up before we all lose big time.
So naturally, with such mindset, I found myself wondering… who am I in this new movie (and by I, I mean the average movie-goer)?
Can we even aspire to the ‘myth’ of Katniss?
Coriolanus Snow was always my favorite Hunger Games character. I never could love Katniss as much as I did the President of Panem, because Katniss is easy to love. All of them are, Peeta, Haymitch. In the original series, Snow is the main villain, but what makes him a truly memorable character (to me) is that he is a believable villain.
I was always far more intrigued by how you make a Coriolanus Snow than how you make a Katniss Everdeen. So naturally, when the prequel, A Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes came out, I was thrilled. I devoured that book, and true to expectation, it’s my favorite of the series. Just like the movie, to me, surpassed the brilliance of the initial trilogy.
It’s a fair assumption that we all watched the Hunger Games series sympathizing with Katniss and the districts. Hell, half of us probably saw ourselves as some version of the Mockingjay, or at the very least, one of the two leading men. We all want to imagine ourselves the heroes, the golden boys and girls, the ones who finally stick it to the man, and win by breaking the rules.
It creates such glaring contrast to our day-to-day lives that, for a few brief moments, it manages to blind us to reality. Let’s be honest, if you were called upon here, now, sitting there reading this, to lead a rebellion and fight for a free, better world for us all, would you even know how to begin?
I’ll go first — I wouldn’t. I’d love to, but I don’t know how or what I’d do. Which is why I never saw myself as Katniss.
But then, who really are we?
Why we’re not President Snow
Photo: Lionsgate
It seems the obvious rider to what I just said. If we’re not the main hero, then at least tell me we’re the glorious villain, eh? Except no, I’m not about to liken us to Coriolanus Snow, either. Not the majority of movie-goers anyway.
Dr. Gaul: See how quickly civilization disappears?
Coriolanus: Those tributes don’t have a choice.
Dr Gaul: I was talking about you.
The sad truth is (or perhaps, a great fortune for us, morally) that most of us lack the intelligence, ambition, and presence of spirit to actually be Coriolanus Snow. No, it’s not because of the goodness of our heart that wouldn’t allow us to stoop to his level. I believe a good majority of us would, in the right circumstances, suffer no qualms about any of the things Snow does in the movie.
Some men might kill for love, others for advancement, others for land — the list goes on and on, but the main bullet point is most of us would kill.
But if you look at the majority of us, and I mean a good 85% of the population, we’re too happy following. Too content in our personal makeshift spotlight to truly even fathom our own meaningless. So you see, the good news is, we wouldn’t know to wear the shirt, or get ourselves noticed, or remember that water scares rabid animals, and use that to our advantage in the games. We wouldn’t, so no, growing snow-white roses in the greenhouse is not for us.
Then surely, Sejanus Plinth…
Tigris (to Coriolanus): What I remember most about your father was, in his eyes, there was just hate. You don’t have to inherit that to survive. People can be good. You can be good.
Sejanus Plinth (played by the stunning Josh Andres Rivera) is the character we all want to be. He’s the idealist, the good-at-heart, the golden boy who, resenting his family’s newly-acquired wealth, decides to play the rebel martyr.
Photo: Lionsgate
One of my favorite parts about the movie is that it perfectly highlights the fact that spur-of-the-moment good intentions can have dire consequences (either for yourself or others). For Sejanus, they spell a terrible fate — caught (by Snow’s own doing) conspiring with rebels, Sejanus is hung before the population of District 12. Not only do his “good intentions” fail and get him executed, they also lead to the hanging of two other misfortunates from 12.
While the tale of young Plinth is touching, he’s a wonderfully nuanced reminder that a good heart is (sadly) not enough in this world. That the answer lies not in walking this world a perennial child, as Sejanus does (being only 18 when he’s killed, he’s got an excuse).
Rather, one must own both their actions and intentions, but also the evil in the world, and the evil in themselves. Sejanus Plinth is fooled by his friend’s cunning. The trust of an old, misled friend, or a subconscious choice to ignore the evil in men’s hearts?
There are some who would walk this earth like that, some who think their good, golden intentions alone are enough to make the world in their image. Except they’re not. Against a Coriolanus Snow, the Sejanuses of the world never win. They may outnumber the Snows, but they’re glaringly outgunned. The reason why Katniss Everdeen manages to win against Snow (and what makes their relationship so beautiful) is that she matches him in cunning, in intelligence, in resourcefulness — all vital elements if good is to win on this world of ours.
As I sunk in my chair, I kept wondering…who are we, then?
I’ll tell you who we are. There’s a scene in the Songbirds and Snakes movie, where Snow and some of the other peace-keepers are out on leave, and go party it up at some local tavern in District 12. And you’ve got Snow, obviously, and you’ve got Sejanus Plinth somewhat to the side, and then you’ve got a bunch of other officers, extras most likely, in the background.
That’s who we are. It sucks, I know. Nobody goes to the movies expecting they’re the extras. We want the big, meaty characters. But the truth is, when you give us a more in-depth look, you see that most of us are just trying to get along. Maybe we take positions of power (so we can finally have some). Or we just strive to make a bit more money so that next year won’t be so bad. Or try to get ahead of our neighbors, ’cause who knows when another crisis pops up, and they try to steal your toilet paper?
We think small. We’re easily led. And thus, we’re mostly the peace-keeping extras. Or the “viewers at home” spectating the Hunger Games. Is it better or worse than being one of the main characters? Would you trade a position of anonymity for the burden of making a choice?
In the immortal words of Pink Floyd, would you exchange a walk-on part in the war for a lead role in a cage?
That’s for you and your gods to know. While you decide, go see the movie. It’s well worth it.
I’ll leave you with the line that stuck to me most, not by one of the main characters, but one of the tribute kids, Coral, the main ring-leader in the Hunger Games. And even as the end becomes inevitable, she despondently turns to Lucy and says,
I can’t have killed them all for nothing.
It struck me as such an inanely human line. That’s just it. As long as we keep finding justification, as long as murder or destruction is reasonable for the right reasons, then we’re losing by default.
You’ll notice I make no mention of Lucy Gray, the movie’s female protagonist. I think she’s a wonderful character, but in my personal view as a creator, she just ticks too many “cliche gutsy yet charming heroine” boxes to be taken seriously. Not as a character, but as someone we’ve any chance of truly being. Love the character and the actor, it’s just, I don’t think there’s that many Lucy Grays out there for that to be a question (for me, at least).
This post originally appeared on my Medium