The lure of the unreal

We see aspects of ourselves in archetypal characters, and we identify with their stories because we recognize our experiences in the tasks they undertake and the challenges they face. Archetypes are endlessly fascinating because we all start life as children prone to magical, wishful thinking.

Themes reflecting the deep uncertainties of childhood – household mysteries; fears of being left alone; the sheer size, strength, and inscrutability of the adult world – surge through our dreams and reveries for the rest of our days.

Fantastic stories bring these to the surface in safe, unthreatening forms, allowing us to confront and deal with them afresh. "The stuff of fantasy is the mental life of childhood," says Murray Pomerance, chair of the sociology department at Ryerson University in Toronto, "and it's reborn with every generation. To engage in fantasy is to return to the point of view of childhood."

Such tales can also renew our intuitive awareness that there's more to reality than the world we perceive with our senses. Part of fantasy's enduring appeal is its willingness to tap into a wider realm that everyday logic can't grasp. At its most effective, fantasy offers a way of enlarging our mental and moral horizons.

Not everyone sees this as a plus, as religious debates over the "Harry Potter" and "Lord of the Rings" series repeatedly show.

Writing for the Decent Film Guide, Internet movie commentator Steven D. Greydanos commends "Harry Potter" for "redemptive themes ... of good vs. evil, of loyalty and courage, of the evils of bigotry and oppression." But he notes that others "have attacked the young hero of Rowling's series as a veritable poster child for the occult," and suggests there might be a slippery slope from Harry's adventures to fare he finds more problematic, like "Dr. Strange" comics, books on witchcraft, and TV shows like "Buffy the Vampire Slayer."

In sum, not all fantasies are created equal. What some find an adventure in mind-expanding fun may strike others as the opening of a dangerous doorway – itself a timeless fantasy theme, stretching from venerable folk tales to "Monsters, Inc."

Another factor in fantasy's enduring appeal is the way it leads readers and viewers to choose sides in arguments over everything from the overarching meaning of a story to the most esoteric details of setting, lore, and the "rules of the game" that give even the most flamboyant flights of fancy a foothold in human rationality.

Fantasies are diverse in another important way, too: Some are worth watching or reading, others aren't. The imaginative realms meticulously etched by J.R.R. Tolkien in "The Lord of the Rings" and C.S. Lewis in his "Chronicles of Narnia" novels are gateways to psychological and historical insight as well as hugely exciting places to visit.

Compared with those, the petty, violent worlds of modern-day horror films and the unkillable "Terminator" series (among other examples) seem sterile and mechanical. Judging from the silly new "Austin Powers" and "Men in Black" installments, film fantasy isn't in top imaginative form. But it hasn't lost its ability to stir people, as I learned when my lukewarm review of "The Fellowship of the Ring" sparked angry e-mails.

And a growing number of filmmakers are finding it a fertile source of inspiration.

Some take startlingly novel approaches, as Richard Linklater did in last year's animated "Waking Life," about a young man caught in the hazy zone between dreams and actuality. He's not sure how to escape it, and like audiences beguiled by today's multiplying fantasies, he's not sure he wants to.

So the trend rockets on. "Signs" is poised for box-office triumph, Frodo and Harry Potter are waiting in the wings, and new fables from the "Star Trek" and "Star Wars" creators are on their way down the Hollywood pipeline. For the foreseeable future, this is a genre no magic wand could wave away.

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