I’m going to take a shot in the dark and assume that that is certainly not the case. I pretty much have to, since I’m working under the assumption that even the biggest of big girls is still a human being and thus capable of a vast emotional range, as well as reasonably impacted by stimuli of all kinds throughout her life. But I am an optimist, so who knows? It’d probably help if I’d actually seen the movie Big Girls Don’t Cry and didn’t just want to use it as a cheeky, pun-based lead-in to the topic du jour.
So enough dawdling. Let me say this to start: why aren’t there more giant protagonists in fiction?
Also, let me say this to…uh, continue: apparently I referenced the movie even though there are at least three different songs with the same title.
Why was I born a cultural dunce?
I guess not being alive in 1962 was my first mistake.
For those out of the loop: here and elsewhere, I’ve boasted about my plans to someday write a story about a kaiju-sized single mom. Turns out “someday” was March 20th, 2019, meaning that I’ve started on what’s a “prototype” for now, but may end up becoming a full-fledged manuscript if all goes well. Arguably it’s a (far from complete) manuscript now, but “prototype” is one of my favorite words, so it sticks.
This is a story and character I’ve agonizingly iterated over -- at a bare minimum -- nearly three years. Now that I finally have a plan in motion, from outlines to visuals to references to soundtracks, I can go forward. And I have. The file I’ve got now weighs in at 15,436 words; that’s tentative, because A) my word processor doesn’t give quite the accurate count, so I have to plug those pages in elsewhere, and B) the real challenge is going to be cutting stuff once I get everything written. But “15K” words is still a lot more than zero, and I’m happy to have made even a tiny bit of progress.
Here’s the problem I’ve run into -- the issue that made getting to this point about as easy as scaling a vertical steel wall coated in butter and killer bees. Since I have no idea what I’m doing (here or with life in general, take your pick), I thought it would be best to seek out reference materials. See how others have treated the subject. Surely other writers, artists, developers, and storytellers in general have made the subject of “giant hero/heroine” pretty well-worn, right? There’s no original idea under the sun, as they say. Someone, somewhere, at some point must have done my idea already, but earlier. And better. It’s just a matter of seeking them out and learning what I can from a master.
Except…that didn’t really happen.
What I’ve found with my Google fu is that by and large (ha), there aren’t really a lot of giant protagonists -- male or female, though obviously I’m focused on the latter. And to be clear: I’m not talking about a one-off instance where the character’s HUUUUUUUUUUUUGE for a bit, does some smashing, and then goes back to normal. More importantly? I’m talking about a story where the main character is huge. Not the secondary character to a normal-sized protagonist. So even if The Iron Giant is a top-notch movie, that’s not exactly what I’m looking for. Same for The BFG (book version).
I mean, let’s be mindful of the timeline here. Attack of the 50-Foot Woman came out in 1958 (and The Amazing Colossal Man a year earlier). Given their cult/B-movie status, I’m going to go ahead and assume that neither of those are what you’d conventionally call “good”. Actually, I’ll point to the stands and say that -- at least in terms of the former -- it’s not good, and certainly doesn’t hold up today as anything but a curio of the giant monster B-movie era. Okay, so some of the earliest forays into the giant lead story were duds. Fine. I get it. So does that mean no one should ever try it again? Seems like the answer to that is a nonchalant shrug.
It’s been more than 60 years since Allison Hayes’ Nancy Archer went on her sort-of-but-not-really rampage following the growth spurt from hell. What’s taken up the mantle since then? The 1993 remake, which is…also not good (though to its credit, it at least tries to make an introspective character study out of its larger-than-life heroine -- once the movie is halfway done). A couple of other movies that borrow the mouthful of a title convention, but are pretty much just low-budget excuses to get its leviathan ladies out of their shirts. And…what else? Jack Black in Gulliver’s Travels?
In terms of movies, at least, the winner of this race -- featuring a half-dozen horses drugged up on tranquilizers -- is 2009’s Monsters vs. Aliens. If the CinemaSins video is anything to go by, it’s not exactly a sterling achievement in film. Still, there was something resembling effort and talent in the production. Or if not that, the ideal I’m keen to pursue. What would happen if there was a giant human among us? That movie’s answer: she’d immediately get seized by the government and locked away, and likely would have stayed in captivity -- isolated and denied of everything but the most basic amenities -- if not for an alien invasion. That’s something. There’s a thing right there.
So why don’t we have more of the thing?
I guess what I’m looking for the most is a deconstruction of the trope. And people out there have already figured out how to deconstruct it, so what’s the holdup? Hollywood, where you at? You want to spend millions rendering Godzilla and King Kong, but won’t spend a penny to, I don’t know, put Kat Dennings in front of a green screen and have her play with some toys? Seems like an open-and-shut case to me.
Present a concept. Ask “what if”. Explore it within the context of a story. Have the characters react, change, and express their agency. Present actions and consequences, then actions and consequences. It can be soft, fluffy, and bright, or a bleak, heart-rending cautionary tale of why you shouldn’t do a keg stand with radioactive goo. I know I’ve said this a dozen times before or more in other situations, but I’ll repeat it here for the ages: it’s not that hard. Well, it is by way of any major creative endeavor requiring time, dedication, and perseverance. But it’d be cool if we could all agree that media of all kinds is allowed to break the mold.
With all that said, I’ll go ahead and play devil’s advocate. I’ll do a turnabout here and ask an important question. Instead of making a story starring a giant heroine, why shouldn’t you make a story starring a giant heroine? And the first answer that comes to mind is simple.
Because it would suuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.
There’s a reason why stuff like gigantism and acromegaly are considered disorders. In the real world, the human body generally has a limit on how big it’s supposed to get; going beyond that thanks to an aberration under the skin tends to be a recipe for pain. (See: the late Tanya Angus.) In fiction, you can get away with leap-frogging over those health issues for the sake of telling a story -- if there’s some built-in reason, like mystic magic or weird science -- but in exchange, you have to commit to the rules of your universe. And/or the suspension of disbelief. Be consistent, or get mocked.
In my case? “Consistency” goes hand-in-hand with following things through to their logical conclusion. Or logical-ish. My heroine starts (emphasis on starts) at 7’6” in a flashback/prologue, and she’s only 8 years old at the time. Once she’s at her present age of 33, she’s 18’ on the dot…at least that’s what the records suggest, but her mysteriously-increasing height says otherwise. Whatever the case, she’s lived a hard life precisely because the world is literally too small for her.
The real-world medical conditions that would otherwise leave her crippled or hamstrung don’t exist in-universe (by virtue of her bizarre, superhuman biology and power). In exchange? Her mind’s basically in tatters. Ridiculed for decades on end because she’s different. Denied of countless life experiences because of her condition. Forced to become a burden to anyone in her sphere of influence and out of it. And a peaceful life? Nah, son. She can’t even have a normal life. Too big, too strong, too costly, too dangerous -- which would explain why the story proper starts with her in a jail cell. Not just because of her crimes; it’s because that’s all that’s left for her.
If we try and follow through on the premise of “giant woman living her everyday life”, then said life falls apart instantly. It would take some impressive legwork to get some semblance of a life going for her. In-universe, she doesn’t, and things only get worse when she goes from 3x taller than the average man to…well, ten times that. And then ten times that later on. Godzilla wouldn’t even reach her knees.
I guess what I’m getting at is that, by all accounts, she’d be the biggest woobie ever if she existed in real life. But since she doesn’t (and can’t, thank God), she’s a huge woobie in-universe, sandbagged and put-upon relentlessly. Maybe that’s her charm point once I’ve wrapped up the first draft; no matter how big she is, she can still be a compelling character because she provides this alternative look on life -- one that earns sympathy, and shows you how human she is despite her monstrous size.
So that brings me to the next answer as to “why not”. Maybe the concept of a giant protagonist is so foreign, so out there, and so irreconcilable to the common zeitgeist that it’s instinctively rejected. Thanks to the Bible, we’re prone to root for the David in a tussle instead of the Goliath; the little guy is a lot more sympathetic and relatable than the super-sized, super-strong, superhuman, right? It’d be the equivalent of rooting for EA or Activision instead of Lab Zero or Yacht Club Games. The underdog has to be the hero of the story. (Usually.)
Maybe it’s just a necessity. Maybe you just have to have someone normal, or grounded, or inherently relatable in order to get your story going (or even told). I’d argue against that concept and bet there are some rebels in the mix, BUT I get it. Even if you overlook the grim details of a giant’s life, there needs to be a tether between the real and fictional. A core, emotional or otherwise. I’d think (and hope) that I can create a strong emotional core of my own with my leviathan leading lady, but opinions may vary.
The bigger stumbling block is probably one of perspective. How do you create a perceptible, appreciable sense of scale when your character, by nature, has their sense of scale twisted beyond compare? One obvious choice is to just not have the big guy/gal be the lead, and instead feature a second character who has to “look up” instead of “look down”. Or, again, just dodge it entirely with well-worn ground. There are way more stories out there with tiny and/or shrunken characters than the reverse. I’m not even going to try and name them all, so I’ll simplify and say this: two Honey I Shrunk the Kids movies (naming conventions aside); one Honey I Blew Up the Kid movie. Small characters = protagonists. Big character = observed by protagonists. Food for thought.
Want to know what I think? I would say that it was the critical, categorical failure of all of the 50-foot woman movies to not provide anything substantive. To fail in delivering a worthwhile narrative (complete with progressively-improving AV and production values, as per their respective eras) with the core concept. There are a handful of books that have picked up the slack, which is good -- but the mac granny of them all dropped the ball, as has everyone else in the family tree.
It was, and still is, possible to tell this kind of story with respect for itself and its audience. It really is. All you have to do is do something, and then stick with it. Have a main character. Have his or her circumstances. Have agency. Have progression. Have a plot. Have actions and consequences. Have a world to explore (or destroy). Have anything. Just tell a story, damn it. I swear to God, if this project ends up being the one that takes me straight to the top, I’m going to be pissed.
I mean, I’m sure there are guys and gals out there who have already done their own…exploration. Which leads to my third point -- featuring a video that’s becoming increasingly, distressingly common on this blog.
If there’s one thing I’ve found in my search for reference materials, it’s a lot of Rule 34 content. It may very well be a 50-50 split between erotica and that one song from Steven Universe. And you know what? I get it. I’m not going to tell anyone they’re wrong for liking what they like. If anything, I’ll point fingers at guys who get all wound up and shout “STOP LIKING THE THING THAT YOU LIKE! IT’S WEIRD AND GROSS AND CONFUSES ME!”
But I am going to take issue with the fact that, well, there can be so much more than just Rule 34 material, and I feel like there aren’t enough people tapping that essence. I mean, you read what I wrote earlier, didn’t you? About how it would suck to be even a couple of feet above normal? So while that brand of erotica probably has its value, for me specifically, it’s a bit lacking in verisimilitude. Further, it’s like jamming the concept into a box and locking it up. And the “concept” in this metaphor is a beautiful flower that, you know, needs sunlight and junk to blossom into its greatest form.
Again, it’s the categorical failure of the 50-foot movies. If they managed to H.G. Wells it and fully expound on the topic, then maybe the 1958 production would be famous for more than just its poster of a scantily-clad colossus. But they didn’t, and now we’re stuck. And now the assumption is that the only thing you can do with the concept -- one that’s either too depressing to explore, or too foreign to attempt -- is to make porn out of it.
Someone needs to change that, conclusively. And I guess it’ll have to be me.
When it comes to storytelling, I don’t believe in limits. I believe in infinity -- in the infinite potential that can be explored, as long as a hopeful creator has the will for it. True, wisdom and technique factor into it; without skill, any endeavor’s destined to crash and burn. But the willpower is the real clincher. The spark, of sorts. If there’s no drive, nothing will ever move forward, you know?
And rest assured, I’ve got that drive. The skill level is debatable, to say the least, but I think that I’m in a better place than I was a year, month, or even week ago. Having envisioned the possibilities, I’m ready to make good on my ambitions. I’m going to do what I can to do my giant heroine justice. I just wish I didn’t have to do so by utterly ruining her life on multiple occasions. Blame her son for that, I guess.
Oh, right, the son. Guess I should talk about him at some point, right?
Maybe.
Maybe.
Maybe.
Or I could gripe about JRPGs some more.
We’ll see what happens, yes?
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