Hey guys! Ready for another session of my workshop? Of course you are! Today, we'll be discussing a technique that is prevalent in most forms of entertainment: that of the parallel scene.
A parallel scene is a specific type of repetition, in which two (or more) scenes in a piece of literature or film closely resemble each other. There are many ways that the writer can achieve this: through repeated conversations, similar dialogue structures, or colors and images.
It's simple enough to define what parallel scenes are, and I'm sure many of you can think of examples off the top of your head. But without understanding the ways in which this technique can be used, writers are prone to pounding the reader with parallels until they cry. Here are some specific ways that parallels are effective:
(I can't think of specific examples for some of these, so I just invented a few of them off the top of my head.)
First, and probably most familiar to you on this site, parallels can be used as narrative shorthand to let the audience know that two characters are similar. I say that it's most familiar to you here because this is a popular technique in anime, especially common when comparing a living character to an absent or dead one. This is usually achieved by having the protagonist say the exact same thing as another character said in the past, despite the fact that the protagonist couldn't possibly know that phrase.
For those of you who have seen Fruits Basket, think of the episode containing Hatori's flashbacks to his girlfriend, Kana. The episode makes a point of showing Tohru, the protagonist, telling Hatori the same riddle as Kana did in the flashback. With this, the writer not only points out similarities in their kind personalities, but makes Tohru into a second chance for Hatori.
Of course, anime is rarely subtle about this sort of scene. The similarities between the past and present characters will be shown in close proximity, and when the protagonist utters the meaningful phrase, they may flash back yet again to the past character saying it, or show the past character (in appropriate ethereal form) standing next to the protagonist as they speak. In writing, these similarities can be in entirely different chapters, and the author may not call attention to them at all. The less discerning reader may not notice, but to the attentive reader, finding a parallel like this is like finding another satisfying layer to the story.
Another way to use parallels is to use them to highlight the differences between the two scenes. Often, this is a way of showing that the characters have grown. In the movie Enchanted, the romantic lead delivers a dry, typically masculine line towards the beginning ("Is this a habit of yours? Falling off of stuff?") but at the end, that line is repeated by the very feminine heroine. It's a cute bit of role-reversal, and serves to tell the audience that their relationship has become equal, and the heroine is no longer a helpless princess.
This method can also be used to heighten the irony and tragedy of a situation. Say that there was a significant scene earlier in the story in which the characters were celebrating, watching fireworks, and enjoying themselves together. Now fast-forward later into the story, when the characters have been separated, or one of them has died. Elsewhere, visible in the sky, there are fireworks. That's a melodramatic example, but were it real, the reader would remember the earlier fireworks scene and the warm fuzzies it inspired, and the tragedy of the current scene would feel even sharper.
One last way to use parallels is to reveal less obvious things about the character. This method can be particularly fun, depending on how you use it. It can be particularly common in romance: the plucky female lead may spend a scene ranting to a friend about how all men suck, and offhandedly throws out there that she wants a man who will play Brawl with her. Ten chapters later, guess who she plays Brawl with at a party while the rest of their friends get drunk? The resident Jerk With a Heart of Gold, of course. It may take another twenty chapters for them to hook up, but their fates are set from that point on.
Again, that's a more obvious example. The author can choose to make the reveal less apparent, so that everyone but the attentive reader might miss it. But that's all up to the writer.
If any of the ideas in these scenes, such as video games being a sign of true love, recur more than two or three times, it becomes a theme. If a concrete symbol, like the fireworks, recurs, it becomes a motif. If any of these occur too many times, it's a prime example of beating the reader to death with a sledgehammer.
