‘Yellowjackets’ and Using Weaponized Uncertainty
Yellowjackets is a fine, creepy show in danger of becoming the new 'Lost.' But it has one powerful storytelling weapon on its side.
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Yellowjackets fills me with anxiety1. This isn’t so much because of it’s “Lord of the Flies Except More Terrifying because Teenage Girls” vibe as it is it’s very specific Lost vibe—right down to the dramatic sound effect every time a scene ends on a big reveal, which is often. If you watched the entirety of Lost in its original run ad found yourself becoming less and less engaged as the story became more and more convoluted and, frankly, bad2, you’re probably starting to worry about Yellowjackets, which has been adding layers of supernatural elements on top of psychological elements on top of mysteries upon mysteries3.
Yes, it’s making me nervous that once again I am watching a show with no long-term plan that’s just going to keep shoving shocking moments at me until I experience some form of Stockholm Syndrome and decide that making sense is really a form of oppression4. Once again I am watching a show that flips between the past and the present and likes to keep its main characters as far apart as possible for long stretches of time so stories move forward at what could charitably be called a snail’s pace5.
But Yellowjackets, for all the potential flaws lurking under its surface, has one big advantage in terms of story mechanics: It’s got a bench.
Quick! We Need Someone to Die!
In baseball, teams have dozens of players but only nine take the field at any given time. The rest literally sit on the bench in the dugout, so those extra players are referred to as the team’s “bench6.” In long games, having a deep bench you can pull from to replace players in strategic situations is crucial.
Yellowjackets has a similar resource with its characters, because you don’t know with certainty whether some of them are alive or dead in the show’s present day. We only know the fates of some of the characters, and the producers of the show have been deliberately vague and misleading about how many survivors there are in total, so we have no idea how many Yellowjackets there are to begin with and how many may have survived to the present7.
This can be a bit frustrating, but it’s a smart way to manage storytelling resources. Yellowjackets is, after all, a Mystery Box show, so having a pile of unused mystery is always a good idea. Having all these characters lurking in the gray area between life and death (not to mention main, supporting, and background status) means the show can reach for a character any time it needs to tie up a plot hole, explain a mystery they forgot about, or provide a jolt of action. Case in point: When Misty kills Crystal, Crystal barely exists as a character. She was not on screen much in the first season, and was clearly elevated to be Misty’s bestie in Season 2 solely so Misty could kill her, giving us one more glimpse into Misty’s descent into Christina Ricci-levels of menace8. Plus, now there are other story possibilities, including Misty’s crime having been seen, or some silliness involving a haunting by Crystal, which would likely involve showtunes and be excruciating9.
Because of all these shadowy, ill-defined background characters lurking about, the show has a built-in escape hatch for any bonkers plot twists it might need. Is this good writing? Not really. But it works because this is an American-style serial TV show, which means it’s design to lumber along as long as people are watching10.
Bad but Useful
When writing a novel, having a bunch of ill-defined background characters who stumble into the spotlight on an as-needed basis is pretty bad form. If Yellowjackets was a novel I was reviewing, I would ding it for its lack of character work and tendency to elevate weirdos from the background in order to fill plot needs. That’s a terrible way to write a story11.
But since this is TV, those rules don’t really apply—at least not yet. When you read a novel, it’s finished, and so you have every right to expect that the characters all contribute to the plot and are developed to a reasonable extent. But in an ongoing TV series, there’s an unknowable amount of story runway ahead. Will it run six seasons and a movie? Or be canceled after season three? Or be canceled and then picked up by a streamer for one sad half-season and then canceled and deleted from the world so you can never, ever, watch it ever again and it becomes part of the Wikipedia page about the Mandela Effect? You can’t know, so any poorly-defined background characters could still justify their existence and be absolutely brilliant. There’s time12.
So, Yellowjackets is engaging in some serious Heisenbergian Writing: If the show never does anything with the background characters, that’s bad. If it goes the distance and weaves them into a wonderful plot web, that’s good! Right now, it’s both good and bad and we just have to sit here in Hell and wonder whether putting this much thought and energy into another Lost-style show is worth our sanity13.
Me, I always fall on the side of yes, the journey has value when it comes to investing in TV shows, books, or movies of dubious length and dubious overall success. Not every aspect of a show or piece of fiction needs to be totally successful; there can still be good stuff there. Take Lost: For all my bitterness, I enjoyed the hell out of a lot of that show, and have no real regrets about watching it. Well, some regrets, but then I could say the same about what I had for lunch. Also, my fashion sense. Also, starting this Substack in the first place14.
Next week: Mission: Impossible and tone management.
Other things that fill me with anxiety: Ants, my ringtone, the buzzing of insect wings, fireworks, presidential elections, people, things, weather, the universe in general, these footnotes.
As you became increasingly angry - I mean, I can’t swear I didn’t yell at the screen a few times.
Mystery Numero Uno: How they’ve avoided putting on a musical in that cabin just to have something to goddamn do. I despise musical theater with all my being but on day 123 I would be belting out “Luck Be a Lady” with everything I had.
Ironically, this is my strategy when writing fiction: I will bludgeon you with words until your surrender.
At least the girls are finally eating each other out in the wilderness. We’re not quite at the Fireworks Factory yet, but I can see it in the distance like the Dark Tower or Barad-dûr.
After six years of Little League baseball, no one knows the Bench better than me. I sat there … a lot.
Is “Deliberately Vague and Misleading” the new title of my memoir? If the attorneys clear it, yes!
As noted by science, the highest levels of menace one can experience.
How come people aren’t haunted by musical theater weirdos? What could be more terrifying than a ghostly voice constantly singing “Don’t Cry for Me, Argentina” over and over again?
And, frequently, long after they’ve stopped.
Ironically, that is a terrific way to manage a group of people you plan on eating.
This is what I tell myself about my writing career every damn day.
I’ll save you the time: It is not. It never is. Go take a nap and contemplate your mortality.
Because now that I’ve started it, I can never stop it. Ever. Or my brain will explode.
As long as the "yellow" in the title doesn't end up referring to a shimmering pond of magic electromagneticism that will destroy the world if drained—I think we'll be okay. I mean, I think so. I think so. That final season of Lost. Oof.
Have you checked out From yet on MGM+? There's another mystery box show teetering on the dual precipices of greatness and emptiness.