A Poor Echo of a Mockingjay

If you haven’t seen or read The Hunger Games series or trilogy (as appropriate), there will be spoilers in this post.

We finally watched the Mockingly Part 1 last week. I’d say we’re slow, but it’s really that it’s grim and depressing. I’ve read the books, so I know how it all ends: the journey is harsh.

But it’s “The Hanging Tree” I want to talk about, particularly in the film. Some of the imagery has a chilling resonance with a completely different trope to that of rebellion. Katniss interprets the song for herself, and the reader. I don’t necessarily disagree with her interpretation, but I think there is a bit more going on metaphorically than a single dead murderer singing. There are numerous interpretations of “The Hanging Tree” all over the internet: try The Hogwarts Professor’s, or Amelia Mason’s take on it, they also explore the lynch mob influences that litter American History and song.

While those influences are important, I’m not American, so my take on it is inevitably different. I don’t wish to take away from its cultural roots, but it is applicable in other, if similar, contexts.

The song itself runs:

“Are you, are you
Coming to the tree
Where they strung up a man they say murdered three.
Strange things did happen here
No stranger would it be
If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree.

Are you, are you
Coming to the tree
Where the dead man called out for his love to flee.
Strange things did happen here
No stranger would it be
If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree.

Are you, are you
Coming to the tree
Where I told you to run, so we’d both be free.
Strange things did happen here
No stranger would it be
If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree.

Are you, are you
Coming to the tree
Wear a necklace of rope, side by side with me.
Strange things did happen here
No stranger would it be
If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree.”

There are differences in the song in the movie that have to do with the delivery of the music - I’ve typed this out exactly as it appears in my copy of Mockingjay, and I’ve had to resist amending the punctuation to get it “right”. The only important change is by no-longer-gamesmaster Heavensbee from “necklace of rope” to “necklace of hope”. He says himself “it’s a bit on the nose, but ‘"of course so is war”. It’s more than on the nose, it’s twee. Given the subject matter, and the oppression the Capital practises, it’s also unnecessary. The Districts know what they face in rebellion, and I’ll be coming back to this later (with a short video interlude), because it deals with the resonance I mentioned at the beginning. It is in keeping with original rebellion trope, because District 13 does seem to treat this as a game with real players. I don’t doubt their resolve, seriousness or ultimate aim, but the ending surprised me not at all. (I’m not going to give that much of a spoiler, sorry kids.)

The song, then (which I’ll describe by stanzas, because it’s easier).

The language in the first unique line is telling: “they strung up a man they say murdered three”. Not “a man was hanged”, but he was strung up, which suggests a midnight lynching rather than due process of law (yes, yes, cultural root, I know). And then, “They say murdered three”. In most of the critiques I’ve read, much is made of the “they”, and quite rightly so, but I’m more caught by the “say”. Say anything you like, it doesn’t make it true.

The second unique line is probably the easiest to understand. Run. Away. The third Katniss believes to be the murderer calling his love back to him, and thinks it’s confirmed by the last line. In a straight reading…yep, okay. But in the context of a banned song that is used (in the film at least) as District 13 propaganda to foment rebellion, it’s a little more complicated.

What strikes me is the meaning of the surrounding verse, and the interaction of meanings with each unique line.

The surrounding verse in each stanza could be taken to describe a physical gallows: in a state of total oppression, where the state murders its subjects, the gallows is a central place where the populace must gather at the behest of their masters. However, what the people see and feel is more often different to their masters’ intention than not. While the oppressor may aim to subjugate, the oppressed will eventually rebel or flee entirely than remain oppressed. History is littered with examples, and here the cultural roots are amplified, but the examples are not limited to those roots.

And here, while the gallows is something of a meeting place, “strange things did happen here” has several meanings. The meanings: that the Capital persecutes rather than rules; that the accused may not be guilty of the crime for which they are punished; that the watching populace is not entirely subjugated but ultimately doubts the wisdom of such treatment; that the hanging tree becomes a metaphorical place to meet; and that the hanging tree becomes a metaphor for rebellion (or freedom, depending on your point of view).

The metaphorical meaning of the hanging tree changes subtly with each unique line. If we take the entire song as a call to rebellion or revolution (as District 13 would have it), then the personal story of one murderer” doesn’t hold water.

With the first stanza, the straightforward reading of the hanging tree as an execution point appears correct: the impact of the stanza comes from the unique line. The warning is implicit (“they say…”), rather than overt.

In the second stanza, the hanging tree itself becomes the warning as the singer warns his love directly. The surrounding verse is then more ominous. It tells of the price of rebellion. I take the inference that the only way to avoid the hanging tree is to flee.

But in the third stanza, taking the second unique line into account, if fleeing isn’t an option, then die for your freedom. The hanging tree itself, as characterised by the surrounding verse, is becoming a metaphor for freedom.

The fourth stanza calls for solidarity in death. “Wear a necklace of rope, side by side with me.” In this the hanging tree is completely a metaphor for rebellion/freedom: fight or die, there is no flee.

And here I get chills. The song is beautifully written and performed in the film (props to Jennifer Lawrence - see what I did there?), but it’s the District 2 footage that chills me.

The song is catchy with a wonderful rhythm, despite its content…or maybe because of it. Though I criticised it earlier, the light moment of Haymitch saying (in his usual sarcastic tone), “Oh, you are a true wordsmith.”, and Heavensbee explaining himself is heartening. That Beetee details his contribution to both the security and breaching of it underlines the rebellion trope.

It’s a beautiful segue in tone: when the voices of the people join in with Katniss (at 1:59), with that weight of numbers and the curiously soothing thing that is human voices in chorus happens, it becomes downright terrifying. Or did to me. Those people are going to sacrifice themselves.

What disturbs me more is that the imagery is very much zombie horde approaching normals. And sure enough, they act with no regard for themselves: they are mown down, but still keep going…or coming, depending on your point of view. That they succeed at all is utterly marvellous, but no, oh no. In the context of the story, there is no other way: the song makes this clear. Foreshadowing, if it be needed, take a lesson from this one.

I’ve always thought of zombies as simple metaphors. Pick your representative thing. Go with it. Whatever you’re an individual about, the zombies are the them. You are the us. Yay. Straightforward. But that this uses similar imagery is disturbing.

Musically, here’s a more intricate version:

Lovely, right? But. Though less violent, the imagery is similar: a horde standing in backlit fog, then screaming and running into the enemy.

I don’t have an answer to this, but is this us? Are we the zombie horde now, and our governments/authorities/people in charge/media the “normals”? I’m not asking to make some crap joke because I don’t like the Libs: have we shifted from prizing our individuality to wanting nothing more than strength in numbers? By what are we so threatened?

Food for thought.

Good Times

Takes a lickin', keeps on tickin'.

So here is a story, unlocked by another story. But I am going to add several metaphorical (if not actual) parentheses (they will not be apparent as actual parentheses).

I'm reading Making Money by Terry Pratchett (I'm working my way through the Discworld), and I came across this:

"...in the muted silence of the banking hall, the click of the green pen being deployed had the same effect of the sound of the axe-man sharpening his blade."

And I remember Pat (previously known as my foster mother...at least as far as this blog is concerned), telling me a story.

She had a degree in economics, with a side of accountancy (it always does one good to learn a trade). But in her day, women could only ever make seventy-five percent of a man's wage at best, and could not, under any circumstances, be in charge (unless, well, she opened her own business and got called a prostitute all the time, regardless of what the bidniz actually iz). Ahem.

So there she is, an accountant, in a bookkeeping farm. (A bookkeeping farm is like a server farm, except that instead of hard drives, you have people adding up profit and loss thingies for the accountants to deal with so they can formulate...the balance sheet.) (That should probably be punctuated as "The Balance Sheet".)

And she worked for this utter stereotype of a man: long lunches, no work (hey, she did it, but since it was done...he did it, right?). But he was the kind of twerp who would pull up the smallest mistake of an underling. So as to make a big deal of it? So as make it clear he was in charge? Probably both, that part I don't know, I only know what she told me. But I'll go with the latter...it validated his job, this pointing out of others' mistakes, rather than teaching them how not to make them. And he'd mark those in green pen.

Green pen, the scourge of bookkeepers everywhere.

So she knew the underlings' work and workload, and she'd watch as the overlord vetted: he would find increasingly small errors, and then SCORE THEM WITH THE GREEN PEN.

The caps are important, because she used to watch this, knowing any mistake would be small, but that he would make that junior's life a misery once the green pen thus spoke.

And one Friday (of course these things happened on a Friday, so better to let everyone stew over the weekend), he read the reports. He pulled out the green pen-

"DON'T YOU DARE!" Thus spoke Zarathustra. She cursed him. She wished him dead: in the moment for what he was doing, but really, because of what he was (I'm adding my own interp here: an immense twat with delusions of grandeur).

She went home assuming she was not only fired, but could never find work again. She duly showed up to work on Monday morning. She wasn't fired.

She wasn't fired. He'd had a massive heart attack, and died that Friday.

But she thought for years that her curse had worked. That she had wished him dead, and thus he was. She told me this as a way to understand how powerful words (and actions) are: mean what you say, and do what you mean. Never be frivolous about any curse you throw, because even if it's all bunkum: if it comes true you have to live with its consequences.

It might seem paradoxical, but given how poisonous I have felt her parenting to be...it's good to have found words to live by that I have tried to live by.

Love and peace, peeps.