February 12, 2024
Shape-shifting in Nimona: Metaphor and the Subconscious
Nimona is an animated film based on the graphic novel by ND Stevenson. It features “a girl” (more of this in a while) who can shape-shift into any form, from whales to gorillas and from little boys to emulating other people. As I explore in this post, shape-shifting in Nimona is a metaphor that reveals something about the role of the subconscious in the creative process.
You see, there are some metadata you need to know – if you aren’t familiar with ND Stevenson already: The first one is that he identifies as transmasculine/bigender. The second, that Stevenson was apparently unaware about his gender identity before Nimona:
There are times in my life where I feel like everybody knew what my deal was before I did, and this is one of them. But it would be years before I started to see that in myself. I guess I planted the seeds without realizing.
Time
Is that really possible? Can an author create such strong symbolism – as shape-shifting is for gender identity – without consciously realizing it? We know that books often write themselves, but as we’ll see in this post, symbolism is even more powerful, its focus more sharp, when it comes to subconscious meanings.
Click to display the embedded YouTube video
A Short Synopsis of Nimona
First of all, let’s take a quick look at a synopsis/blurb:
In a peculiar setting – part futuristic, part medieval, or as Stevenson aptly puts it “monk punk” – an elite of royalties and knights vow to “protect” the people from some age-old evil. They do so by building a wall around the city and keeping everyone happily distracted inside. Sounds dystopian enough?
In this context, Ballister Boldheart is about to become the first ever knight not of royal ancestry. But things fall apart, as he is set up and accused of treason. Going into hiding, he is visited by Nimona, a “girl” who, as I explained above, is actually a shape-shifter. Together they try to set things right.
The narrative itself is excellent, with plenty of themes worth exploring – among others, pertaining to class, social responsibility, freedom-versus-safety, and even the act of storytelling itself, as the old folktales driving this peculiar society turn out not to be exactly what they seem at first.
Nimona: a Metaphor for Trans Identity
Nimona appears like a little girl at first and for a fair part of the movie. But the movie makes it very, very clear that they are not a girl. The exchange between Nimona and Ballister is telling:
Click to display the embedded YouTube video
Here’s the transcript, if you prefer:
—Can you please just be normal for a second?
—Normal?
—I just think it’d be easier if you were a girl.
—Easier to be a girl? You’re hilarious.
—I mean, easier if you look human.
—Easier for who?
—For you. A lot of people aren’t as accepting as me.
—Mm-hmm?
Pairing “normal” with “easier to be a girl” here is very powerful – though a somewhat missed opportunity is that we don’t see “it’s more natural” or something of the sort also making an appearance.
Let’s also keep in mind that Nimona is a movie aware of LGBT sensitivities – Ballister is gay, his lover being another of the knightsI can envision some delightful literary analyses here revolving around the concept of “armor” and the body. If you’re into such in-depth readings, take a look at Klaus Theweleit’s Male Fantasies, Vol. 2: Male Bodies - Psychoanalyzing the White Terror.
More intriguingly, the film doesn’t directly address this at all.
In other words, in the world of Nimona (a world with clearly dystopian undertones, as we saw) not only is being gay not a problem, it’s not even noticed. It’s as mundane and natural as being blonde – in a peculiar parallel to the way fantasy, horror, and the Gothic approach the supernatural (as we see it from our perspective), treating it as natural, supernatural, and ambiguous respectively.
Being of a lower social class if a far more serious issue for Ballister than his sexual orientation.
What Is a Dystopia?
In the paragraphs above I explained how, in the world of Nimona, one’s sexual orientation isn’t even noticed, but their social class most definitely is. There is a very subtle metaphor hiding here, which will largely pass unnoticed by most viewers – especially considering the young-adult target audience.
That is the insistence of most societies to use certain portions of their population against others. Or, to put it another way, how some issues – undeniably important in their own right – are used to gather support against other, as pressing issues.
The world of Nimona is dystopian not because it has social classes and treats people differently. That’s not any more (or less!) dystopian than our own world. Rather, the issue is that nobody reacts to what the sanctioned, official way of things is. Truth be told, this sounds a little bit reminiscent of our world, too.
Which is the entire point.
The Role of the Subconscious
In my post on the chaos of meaning, I made a reference to Goblin Market and stated the following:
I wonder what Rossetti would think of the interpretations Goblin Market has received in the last few decades. They include some fairly straightforward readings pertaining to class, imperial capitalism and drug abuse. They also include some more… exotic ones such as homosexuality, incest, and bestiality. Although you never know, I consider it unthinkable that Rossetti intended any of the latter readings when composing her poem.
One of the thing I mentioned in that post was that authorial intention is immaterial. Not being part of the author’s conscious plan doesn’t render any well-argued interpretation any less “important”. Indeed, to the extent authors have social responsibility, that is to offer art that is multi-layered.
But there’s another element here: the role of the subconscious.
You could here put forward an argument on the author’s subconscious, and it’d be perfectly valid. However, I consider it more fruitful to focus on the societal unconscious. After all, the lines separating the two, the individual from the latently societal, are very thin – consider Raymond Williams’s structure of feeling.
Nimona: a Metaphor that is Subconscious
As I said above, in the world of Nimona people think as they are told to by their royals. They cheer their knights – until they’re told one of them is a criminal. Then they demand justice when are shown other evidence – until other evidence makes them change their mind yet again.
Watching Nimona, a metaphor on society like this seems to be intentional. However, after reading about Stevenson creating Nimona without realizing the metaphor for trans identity involved in shape-shifting, I’m not so sure. The truth is, it’s hard to draw the line between conscious and subconscious when it comes to art and writing.
Yet this might be a good thing!
Symbolism Works Best when It’s Ambiguous
Symbolism, metaphors, allusions, all describe something that, when you think about it, isn’t there. Of course meaning is always there, that’s the whole point of language. But you get the idea: Symbolism is about showing something and meaning something else.
The thing is, in works that operate on the not-quite-individual, not-quite-societal level, as in Nimona, a metaphor is precisely more powerful if it manages to convey this ambiguity of focus within its structure. This is a -meta element: Such a metaphor, because its own structure conveys ambiguity, manages to mirror the inherent ambiguity – the dialectical pull, if you prefer – between the individual and society.
In Nimona, metaphors operate efficiently because they are likely subconscious, at least to some extent.
Shape-Shifting, in Nimona and Beyond
Nimona (and every metaphor in the film) isn’t the only one who’s shape-shifting. Societies shape-shift all the time, every way you define it. Societies are fluid entities (are they entities?) that aren’t quite a simple sum of the individual parts, that is humans.
Societies shape-shift in terms historical and cultural, as do the individuals populating them. More still, borders are (perhaps paradoxically) inherently ambiguous: Where does one “thing” end and another begin?
If “the whole point of language” was meaning, there would never be ambiguity, meaning would never destabilize. It is precisely because meaning is only produced later, as an after-effect of semiotic movement, that it can destabilize.
Perhaps I ought to have clarified: The infinite ambiguity, the infinite capacity of language to become engorged with meaning assures that meaning is always there, even latently – i.e. waiting to be interpreted.
Thanks for the comment, which helped me make this formulation more precise!
Entertaining film, though the drawing could be better.