The Lion King

There are two aspects to the rhetoric of a narrative:

1) The argument of the narrative arc and

2) the argument of “the beautiful,” or the aesthetic arc. 

The argument of the narrative arc depends on the character development, conflict and outcome of the story.  A sin might be portrayed but condemned by the fact that the sinner got it in the end.  In that case, the narrative arc is arguing against that sin.  The argument of the aesthetic arc is what is portrayed as beautiful, or cool, or attractive, or ugly, or repulsive, or stupid by the story.  The Lord of the Rings presents beautiful elves and ugly orcs, so we root for the elves, which is good. But most modern movies portray fornication as attractive when it is in fact ugly clear to the bone.  By leaving out the reality of the emptiness, loneliness, bitterness and selfish hatred that are wedded to fornication in real life, they are subtly arguing for fornication.  Similarly, if all the funniest characters in prime time are sodomites (even though real life sodomites are not very funny), then that is an argument for sodomy.  If a movie presents honor as a lovely way to live then they are arguing for honor. 

            Most movies are not completely good or completely bad.  Usually they are in rhetorical conflict with themselves.  The Lion King, which was directed by Roger Allers and Rob Minkoff (of Tummy Trouble [1989] fame), has this very tension.  Simba is introduced to us as a young and arrogant self-centered glory-hound.  He and his wicked Uncle Scar have much in common.  If you compare their opening and introductory songs, they have much the same sentiments.  When I am king I will serve me and everyone will listen.  The main difference - cute lion cub in a major key, old ugly lion in a minor key surrounded by an army of Nazi Hyenas.   But the character arc of the story takes Simba through a three stage death and resurrection that changes him into the image of his father who died to save his son. 

            First Simba experiences an emotional death when he thinks that he killed his father.  This sends him running scared out of the kingdom into a field of thorns and thistles. He then flees into the desert where he runs until he is on the verge of death. He falls down unconscious where he is pecked at by vultures. With these images of thorns, thistles, dry desert, and vultures, all images of death and exile, we learn that Simba, like Adam, is experiencing death and exile for his sin.  It seems as if he has also taken the blessing of the Pridelands with him as he fled. His homeland, ruled now by Scar, is filled with hyenas, and afflicted by famine and drought.   Everyone and everything begins to die or pull up stakes, leaving the Pridelands empty, hungry, and lonely.

Simba, though, wakes up in a beautiful paradise where a “Hakuna Matata” (no worries) lifestyle reigns.  Food and shelter are all readily available while threats are seemingly absent.  However, while in this new Eden we learn that the emotional and physical deaths were not enough.  Simba (and his new friends Timon and Pumba) have to go through a moral death as well.  Simba is no longer prideful or an arrogant glory-hound, but he is still self-serving.  So, when he is confronted by Nala, he decides in favor of himself. But then Rafiki appears and Simba receives the priestly atoning word and a prophetic vision from this monastic baboon. Through Rafiki, Simba realizes that he must die to himself and live for the life of the citizens of his kingdom, the way that his father did.  He learns that what seemed an Edenic Paradise is actually the exile of a coward.  Timon and Pumba (who were self-professed outcasts) are restored to the fellowship of Simba’s kingdom and return with him to fight the false kingdom of Scar and the unjustly imprisoned Zazu is set free.  Upon his return, Simba is challenged in his claim to be the rightful king by Scar, but the deaths in the desert were effective agents of change for Simba and he stands as the rightful king in the face of his perceived guilt.  Simba and Scar battle while a fire sweeps through the kingdom, burning up the old kingdom as Simba defeats Scar.  The blessing of rain establishes the return of the kingdom of Simba with the rejoicing of the heavens.  Scar is offered mercy but is destroyed by his own cunning as he is torn to pieces and eaten by hyenas.  The argument of the narrative arc is that you must die to your youthful selfishness and live for others if you want to be exalted.

            But within the story there is a second argument, the aesthetic argument, which conflicts with the narrative argument.  The songs make sins look cool, fun, and attractive.  Hakuna Matata and  I’m Gonna be a Mighty King make selfishness (the same kind condemned as Scar’s hyenas march around like soulless Nazis) look fun, innocent, and attractive.  It is hard to say which argument is more powerful (since the movie is arguing against itself), but my suspicion is that, because our culture is almost exclusively image and song based, and not generally narritivally savvy, that we and our children leave the theater singing Hakuna Matata rather than struck by the narrative arc.  Both are powerful agents of worldview change, but we must always keep an eye on our frame.

The Lion King is schizophrenic. It argues against itself. If The Lion King were a person, it would have Dual Personality Disorder. We must learn wisdom when it comes to entertainment, and part of wisdom is understanding our frame and the frame of our children. When a movie contradicts itself, we must be careful with it, because it is in the contradictions that sin is made attractive.