Have you seen What Does The Fox Say? yet? If not, here it is – you’ll need to have experienced it before we begin to deconstruct it.
After watching it a few times over the last week with my kids, it’s become obvious that within the inane chatterings and costume-play, the singer Ylvis – our protagonist – is actually asking an important philosophical question that will be familiar to many of you.
Let’s take it apart.
Watch the video again and notice what’s actually happening:
• our protagonist is at a party
• everyone else is dressed up as animals
• everyone else moves in slow motion
• everyone else is engaging with each other and with the shared party experience
• while this goes on, our protagonist has no costume, he sings alone, he moves at normal speed, the other animals walk past him, there is a glass wall between him and the party, he is eating a bowl of crisps alone, he is failing to engage with the party, he is unable to make eye contact with anyone at the party, or with us the viewers.
From this opening scene alone, we can conclude that our protagonist is an introvert.
And he remains in this introverted state as he lists all of the different people (animals) at the party and what they do (woof, toot, blub etc). BUT, when he considers the titular question, ‘What does the fox say?’, he is transformed.
Everything changes:
• now our protagonist has a costume
• now he can make eye contact with us
• now he is surrounded by people
• not just that, but he is the centre of attention. They dance for him
• his confidence is awesome. Look at the ease with which he moves.
In this night-forest of his imagination, anything is possible. This is the apotheosis of his inner personality, projected into the external world in a way that wasn’t possible at the party. If you, like me, are an introvert, then you’ll know this fantasy well.
So, on the first level, our protagonist is expressing his inner fox. BUT, look at what he’s really asking. At first, because of the way the fox question is framed within the pre-school ‘cow goes moo’ set up, we think that he is asking ‘what sound does the fox make?’ – but he’s not. He’s specifically asking, what does the fox say? He’s not really interested in the sound that the fox makes – this would be simple to discover with a Google search. He’s asking the much more difficult, maybe impossible to answer, question – what is the content of the fox’s message? How is he able to be so…foxy?
Our protagonist knows what it feels like to imagine himself as a fox, where he is the centre of attention and can express himself, be free of inhibitions, make a fool of himself, and truly let go, but he lacks the rhetoric to bring this internal fantasy into his external reality.
What does the fox say?
If we introverts knew that, maybe we could enjoy parties more.
You’ll notice that half way through the piece, our protagonist changes. These are two introverted individuals with an identical supposed problem. They are so focussed on their personalities being a barrier to happiness that they fail to see each other, even when they are right beside each other and floating in the air.
In trying to be more like the fox, they both fail to follow their usual mode of being – to be quiet and listen – so when the fox does speak to them directly at the end, they fail to hear it. If only they’d been themselves. Their question would have been answered.
In questioning how he can be more like a fox, our protagonist is feeling shame about his introverted self. We introverts are constantly made to feel this way. In her brilliant book on introversion, Quiet – the power of introverts, Susan Cain explores why this is and why we should stop being so mean to ourselves and celebrate our differences.
Our protagonist should read that book.
Watch the video one more time, and it’s easy to read his frustrations. See how he tries to emulate the sound of the fox with his own human mouth, wa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pow, hatee-hatee-hatee-ho etc. Sir, you cannot do it, and you should not feel you have to. Accept yourself. Let the elephants be elephants, the cows be cows, and the foxes be foxes. You are you. Unique. You do not have to bark and cheep and toot along with all the other animals to feel like you belong. In your beautiful song, you express something personal, in your own special way, that is universal and touches us all. We thank you for it.
I recently joined a book club held at my community library. I have never taken part in book clubs prior to this experience and have never lead a discussion so I felt some pressure to get it right. This past Friday it was my turn to lead. I had selected two books, both by Canadian writer David Bergen. I decided to divide the group into two groups. One was to discuss The Age of Hope and the other The Matter with Morris. After much hearty small group discussion, we brought the discussion to the large group. I noted when I sat in with each group that everyone spoke a number of times while in small group. I had not observed that during previous large group discussions.
Was I influenced by having just read Quiet? Perhaps. But, I’ll tell you I was sure glad that I did this experiment. I believe that people who tend to be introverts often sit back even in a group of ten or twelve people yet they often have brilliant ideas. If the noisy ones of the world would consider that and build in ways for the ‘quiet’ ones to participate, our world would have access to even richer ideas.
That’s really interesting Cindy, thanks for sharing it. And yes, I totally agree with you – everyone should work towards finding ways to incorporate different personality types into group discussions so that the loudest folk don’t run the show. My own personal bugbear is creative meetings in an agency/office set up where the brief is given out either at or just before the meeting, and a big group of people brainstorms solutions out loud and the approach is decided on by the end of the meeting. I just don’t think with my mouth, and I don’t like to do it in a group situation. I think most creatively when I’m alone, and have time to play and explore. I went freelance with my copywriting work a few years ago, and now (mostly) when a brief comes through, I get it via email, and have time to think in isolation before bringing it to a group discussion, which is so much more effective from my point of view.
PS. I’ve not come across David Bergen before – I’ll check out his work.
Your comment, ‘I just don’t think with my mouth,’ could be a bumper sticker. I can certainly identify with your sentiments.
I hope you enjoy Bergen as much I do. He offers readers seven novels and a collection of short fiction. Many awards and nominations. Writes and lives in Manitoba, Canada.
Hahaha 🙂 thanks Cindy. Maybe I’ll get that bumper sticker made.
Terrific!
Just read this interview by Tamisha Ford with Canadian short fiction writer, Sarah Selecky, who speaks of her need for quiet in relationships, writing, book promotion, and in general. http://tamishaford.com/2013/11/the-expressive-introvert-sarah-selecky-talks-with-us/ Very interesting.
Talk to you later…
Thanks for the interview link, Cindy. I can empathise with a lot of what Sarah says.
Very nice. Two elements that you don’t touch on so much:
1. So, the friendly horse? That the fox can’t communicate with? Interesting because it’s not that the quiet introvert(?) horse can’t get through to the extrovert fox, but the other way around (“How will you speak to that h-o-o-orse?”). Despite all the strength and excitement and foxyness of the fox, maybe extroverts need to slow down and make space to communicate in a way that different kinds of listener can understand, not just make arbitrary sounds (like Mo-o-o-o-orse code).
2. The (grand?)father reading to the little boy. I’m less sure of what’s going on here? The grandfather is teaching the little boy to think that foxes make particular sounds – setting expectations?
Thanks.
They made you watch it how many times Adam?
Hahaha 🙂 Several. Many. Perhaps too many.
I could identify with the Horse in the video it tells me a lot about speaking in public that it really depends on the variety of listener. I struggle to distinguish between certain accents, and my ears don’t pick up very soft speaking voices so it can be terribly frustrating. I don’t think people should beat themselves up about public speaking when we simply don’t know who we are addressing. I’m an amateur short story teller, and perishing the thought when I eventually do read one out in class. Poets on the other hand seem to have a relatively easier time exploring iambic pentameters. Tips most welcome.
Hi Barbara – I know that feeling. I was terrified when I started out that one day I’d have to read my work to an audience, and the first time (at the Poetry Cafe in Covent Garden) it was pretty terrifying. But then the second time was a bit easier. And so on. Now, I love reading to an audience. You just have to force yourself to do it and get through those first few readings – overcome yourself. Try to focus on the work, and the audience, not on yourself, as you’re reading. Force yourself into situations where you have to read as often as possible. The more you do it the easier it’ll get, and the more your confidence will grow. Practice at home many times before you read on a stage. Unless you’re an actor, don’t attempt to do voices, and don’t wander around the stage or do anything physically dramatic – the drama’s in the words, not in your performance.
If your first reading aloud experiences will be with a creative writing group at Chichester, then I can’t think of a warmer, more supportive environment to do it in. As a little boost to practice, I also recommend getting Paul McKenna’s Overcome your fear of public speaking audio programme, and maybe consulting an NLP practitioner, both of which I did in my early days of giving readings, and both of which were a big help. Good luck!
Thank you Adam – your comments have really encouraged me. I have a Southern English accent and worry about tripping over /th/ and /ue/ sounds, and words like ‘full’ that under pressure may sound lazy, though I practise recording poetry which helps. Though nowadays there are a zillion varieties of the SE, what’s yours?