Run Lola Run

In “Run Lola Run,” there is an interesting flip-flop of gender roles. In fact, we see this same reversal in Erec and Enide. Stereotypically the man is the hero, the one who saves the damsel in distress; however, what is the first scene of the movie? Manni’s in a phone booth freaking out and in hysterics blaming Lola for not showing up and then begging her to save him from his own mess. In the first two sequences it Lola not Manni who finds the way out. While the success in the third sequence is the result of both of their efforts, the protagonist/hero is still obviously Lola. Therefore, Manni proves to be the Princess Peach trapped in Bowser Castle. In Erec and Enide, the reversal is a bit more subtle: Erec is portrayed as this big hero, is the guy who wins every battle and, yet, was it not for Enide, his battles wouldn’t have ever evolved to involve true honor. Another interesting thing about the film is the use of sound – specifically the scream. Another stereotype is that of the trophy wife/girlfriend, the one who’s supposed to ‘Shut up and look pretty.’ In Cretien’s Erec and Enide and Yvain, we see that stereotype subtly refuted by the verbose Enide (who becomes a much deeper character as soon as she’s allowed to speak) and the crafty Lunette (who uses language to get her way). In “Run Lola Run,” her scream is a way to assert herself – a ‘no, I will not shut up and look pretty. You shut up and listen,’ if you will.

Yvain (pp. 353-380)

When Yvain fights the two demons, I don’t understand how that battle is considered a victory in his favor. It was very unsettling actually… The victory didn’t seem all that legitimate. Yes, the fight was unfair to begin with (two devils against one man) but it was designed to be that way – two against one. (In Erec and Enide, Erec fights a whole slew of battles by himself and doesn’t need to call in help; he submits to the rules of battle no matter how ridiculous the set-up is.) I’m not saying that Yvain called in the Lion to help him, per se, but it still helped him. At the start of the battle, the demons inform Yvain that he must put the Lion away where it cannot help him or harm them, that he must take them on alone, that “if the lion were to… attack us, then you wouldn’t be alone: it would be two against two” (364) and would be against the rules of battle. Therefore, Yvain would have to concede defeat if the Lion assisted him. He puts the Lion away and commences fighting but is not strong enough to defeat them. (In fact, he’ll be bettered quickly if the fight continues.) It was luck that the Lion dug its way out of its holding cell and saved Yvain. The Lion kills a demon and gives Yvain a chance to kill the other. This is an impressive turnaround, yes, but it violates the rules of battle, does it not? Therefore, though his enemies were defeated, should this truly be considered his victory?

Yvain (pp. 324-353)

When Yvain leaves on his journey the text says that he “left his lady so reluctantly that his heart stayed behind” (328) and miraculously remained an alive body without a heart. This feat was only possible while his lady, who had been keeping his heart safe, loved him and kept his heart well. When the messenger says that Laudine no longer loves Yvain his reaction is one of shock; however, that shock could also be interpreted as death (he has no way to retrieve his heart and, therefore, can no longer move or speak; the messenger removes the ring from his finger as a grave-robber would the ring of a corpse). After the messenger leaves, Yvain sneaks off to let his maddening grief consume him. In that scene, we see that the previous ‘death’ was no so much a full death but a death of his reason and humanity. With his heart destroyed, he does not give up breath but instead gives into the animal in him. He had wanted to distance himself as far away as possible from the thing that hurt and ‘killed’ him, the thing that he hates most, himself. Insanity brings him that peace. However, we see that insanity doesn’t destroy all the good in him. When the hermit leaves out bread and water, Yvain doesn’t just take it and leave or continue taking it for nothing in return – instead he brings the man game to show his gratitude. Yvain can’t have been all that bad a guy if even in madness he retains some of his virtue. In fact, this is proof that he’s not as evil as the messenger had said and not as deserving of hatred as he believes he is.

Yvain (pp. 295-324)

And here goes a random tangent…

In the context of the narrative, Calogrenant’s story is one of disgrace – he must tell the court his shame, how he failed a challenge pitifully. Of course, this is Chrétien so the story is not simply one of a knight admitting defeat. On one hand, he is setting up a challenge. He’s saying ‘I wasn’t worthy to fight this knight; are you?’ Yvain takes the bait and so does his sharp-tongued, slander-spewing rival Kay. So does the entire court in fact. When one man fails, another swoops down to avenge him; that ‘avenging,’ however, is more an opportunity to up his own renown than anything else). It’s a chance for Yvain to contest against Kay, to beat him honorably. On the other hand, look back at the informal prologue. Chrétien laments that love has lost its power, that it’s been reduced to nothingness. And what does Yvain ultimately do in this first third of the story? He breaks Laudine’s heart by killing her husband, falls in love with her himself, and then manages to stop her grieving by loving and marrying her. Not only is strength or valor triumphing in the tale but love – love wasn’t dead then and it doesn’t have to be now. Therefore, Calogrenant’s story also sets the stage for that: it sets the stage for the fight to preserve the strength of love. 

Erec and Enide (pp. 90-122)

When Erec leaves with Enide, it seems as though his journey is one of redemption and renewal. His renown had fallen and he was made fun of for neglecting his chivalry to be with his wife. When Enide tells him of this, he gets angry and we get the impression that he’s headed off to regain his old title and renown – gained before through tournaments and mindless acts of violence, mind you. In the concluding section of the text, we see that he’s not regaining his chivalry as we’d come to know it before but instead a different kind of chivalry. This new kind is gained not through mindlessly macho fighting but through actual tasks of heroism. Let’s compare the ‘chivalry’ earlier in the tale to the kind now: before he had challenged all in order to show off and for the sake of challenge; this time he rescues a knight from dishonorable giants to spare a maiden’s broken heart, saves Enide from a morally vile Count, and restores joy to a kingdom by freeing a strong knight from a curse. Chrétien is making a commentary on that testosterone-driven society. From the get-go, he seemed to be saying that it was just ridiculous – ‘what’s the point in just fighting for the sake of fighting and bloodshed?’ The way chivalry had been described as a sort of virtue was no virtue at all – machismo does not in itself constitute a virtue. The true spirit of chivalry is in fighting for things that matter, for honor from good deeds and heroism.

Erec and Enide (pp. 60-90)

If the first part of the romance belongs to Erec, the second part most certainly belongs to Enide. How do we see her character emerging here? In what context do we finally get her name?

I find it funny that we don’t find out Enide’s name until basically hers and Erec’s wedding day. That means that until that time (and there was a stretch of time between their meeting and their wedding day), Enide wasn’t seen as having an identity. Her own father hadn’t thought it was worth noting that his daughter had a name (probably because she was a daughter and not a son). That goes along with the sentiment of the time: women were meant to ‘shut up and look pretty;’ they were considered trophies or objects that required no name just some degree of value. As for Enide’s character, we don’t really see it emerging directly. Instead, we see her character develop through the effect she has on Erec. Erec is absolutely smitten with her. And she is pleased because he’s quite the catch. However, he abandons his responsibility as a knight, his love of tournaments, and his machismo and chivalry just to be with her. Enide shows her prideful nature. Because of the above, Erec’s renown plummets and we see how distressed that drop makes her. Enide had been Erec’s trophy but the relationship seems two-sided. It seems Enide also views her lover as a trophy – and as he’s described as the epitome of manliness, it makes sense. When that trophy of hers begins to depreciate in value, her pride/vanity flare and she’s filled with absolute misery. 

Erec and Enide (pp. 37-60)

 (Difficult yet thought-provoking question: Why does the text describe Enide in this way: “She was truly one who was made to be looked at, for one might gaze at her just as one gazes in a mirror.”? What is it to gaze into a mirror? What does one see? Are there any figures from mythology transfixed by a mirror image?) 

In literature and films, gazing in a mirror generally has two symbolic applications – either to show deep introspection and self-reflection or that things aren’t as they seem. And, of course, some mirrors are just mirrors. Instead of seeing deep into one’s self and character, one sees his or her own face. Those sorts of mirrors appeal not to one’s thoughtful nature but to one’s vanity. In likening Enide to a mirror, it seems mostly that people see themselves reflected in her – they see elements of their own selves in her. She’s described as basically a perfect being – the most beautiful and wise that ever was, noble beyond measure. Who wouldn’t want to see his or herself reflected in that? As for mythology, two glaring examples come to mind when I think of mirrors. When Perseus went to take on Medusa, he deftly dodged her gaze and holding up his shield reflected it back to her. The sight of her mirror image turned the Gorgon to stone. In the myth of Narcissus, one day when he was sitting by a pool, a nymph (and one of his spurned lovers) took advantage of his vanity. Narcissus saw his reflection in the water and, unable to look away or leave, eventually died. Mirror images in myths have a nasty habit of screwing over whoever glimpses them. It makes one wonder if there could be some correlation, perhaps something negative in Enide’s mirror-like quality.

PS - Peasant's Quest
PPS - So you don't miss a moment of the baby-throwing-being-on-fire-fighting-a-dragon action...