Veronica Mars
Written by: Sam Henry Miller
Enabled by Kickstarter.com and writer Rob Thomas’s tenacity to keep his career relevant, The Internet executively produced its first film. I can claim, with utmost sincerity, a deep gratitude for this. Because not only is Veronica Mars the first circle-jerk of major-cinematic-studio proportions—a film hinging fundamentally on cameo appearances, self-referentiality in the shallowest fashion and an amalgamation of hypothetical character interactions realized (spurred by nocturnal-emissionary thinking)—the film is an exemplar, to the converse, of why the world needs professional writers, why professional screenwriting is integral to filmmaking and what differentiates fan-fiction from fiction that creates fans.
Veronica Mars picks up 10 years after its series’ finale, with a now more mature, refined protagonist vying for a prestigious position at a New York law firm. Fate, however, summons Veronica back to her home town of Neptune, where her past life of private-eye antics lay buried but, of course, can’t stay buried.
I hope it is universally unobjectionable to claim that: A proper film should not insist upon its own canon as the fundamental point of reference for its existence. This technique works, at its best, as a subtle nod to a franchise’s most loyal fans, but hardly as the sole premise for a major addition to any canon’s diegesis. “I think therefore I am”, said Rene Descartes; not, “I thought therefore I am”. Veronica Mars the series ‘was’, but this should not give it license ‘to be’. We’ve witnessed this tactic fail, financially and critically, many times with adaptations, sequels, and reboots. But now, perhaps for the first time, we witness it fail for a reason distinct to our digital age.
Mars is unique because franchise revivals for non-lucrative reasons are rare (if existent) yet the nature of the film’s existence precludes any pecuniary avarice. The money was raised by fans (not invested) with no expectation of profit or reciprocity. As a consequence, “don’t bite the hand that feeds” would become the totalizing vision for and from the script’s inception to the film’s distribution. Hence the cyclical wank. The disparity between critical lambasting and user lauding on other metric-savvy forums should blatantly attest to this.
Since Mars was made by fans for fans and exudes self-referentiality (even to Kickstarter!) at every milkable opportunity, the film’s genre detours precariously into comedy. Usually this comes in the form of gratuitous cameo appearances and (past) self allusions. Albeit amusing to fans, this is the vainest—perhaps the most shameful—form of reflexivity in the book and can make or break the stability of a film’s tone. Comedies that limit themselves to the public sphere have proven successful (Crime/action comedies), and likewise comedies that limit themselves to the private/domestic sphere work (Melodrama comedies). But, generically speaking, the Melodrama/Crime/Comedy is a sticky space to navigate. Shifting from domestic peril (love affairs) to public crisis (serial killers) is difficult enough to manage, tonally, without adding the element of yuks. Mars unfortunately reaches for so many exclusive yuks that it seems to have forfeited this challenge fundamentally from the get-go (if it ever acknowledged it at all).
What’s left is a hallow facade of a film: a narrative that only exists to serve its creators. This, in a nutshell, is the definition of fan fiction. It should go without saying that: there is no place in the societal cinematic medium—dare I say any medium—from craft to consumption to study, for art made solely to serve its maker(s). Claiming “it’s a film for fans” is semantic to, “it’s dog food for dogs”. It will feed those who hunger for it and make wretch those whose motives are anything otherwise. Where is the value in that?
Veronica Mars offers nothing of societally-inclusive value save a potentially poignant metaphor linking addiction to career passion, which unfortunately doesn’t even leave the gate of diegetic integration, complication or symbolism. This is a shame because it would have been a brilliant premise from which to begin and perhaps even lead to a reflexive criticism of creation based on fanaticism (that dopamine rush which drugs so conveniently allow). But the fans wouldn’t like that.
Sitting in a theater where 80% of the audience is laughing 80% of the time when you’re the 20% is never a fun experience. It usually means one of two things: that you have no sense of humor and should quickly rush home to catch the latest episode of 60 Minutes, or, you’ve stumbled into a niche gathering: a rare event where the majority of the space is in fact a minority of the population.
If you’ve never watched the television series, the film Veronica Mars will let you down. If you have, the filmVeronica Mars should let you down, because it exists to pander to your most basic of human desires in the same league and with the same depth as your average porno.