The Lego Movie: A Creative Manifesto

I finally got around to watching The Lego Movie. Major spoilers coming. It was fun, fast paced, and overall really good. At the end, though, I realized that the film's core message could be taken a couple of ways.

Near the climax, the whole story is revealed to be taking place in the imagination of Finn, a young boy who is playing with his father's massive and impressive collection of Legos. There are carefully crafted scenes from all of the major collections and everything belongs in a specific place. So much so, in fact, that Finn's father (played by Will Ferrell) is planning to permanently fix things in place using a vast store of Krazy Glue, making this the last day Finn will have to play freely. Of course, this instantly sets the scenario up as a real-life mirror image of the imaginary plot, in which Lord Business is trying to freeze everything the entire world in a carefully constructed tableau using the "Kragle."

In the adventure story, a team of "master builders" led by the "Special" - a basically clueless construction worker named Emmet - set out to prevent Lord Business's scheme from coming to fruition by neutralizing the Kragle with the legendary "Piece of Resistance," which happens to look just like the cap to a Krazy Glue tube. In doing this, they show lots of ingenuity in reconstructing the world around them to fit their own designs.

This daring endeavor reflects Finn's desire to continue his habit of playing with his dad's Legos - building and rebuilding according to his whims.

Just as it seems Lord Business is about to win, Emmet finds himself suddenly in the human world, where he can finally see the reality of his existence, and we get to see Finn for the first time. Cue the entrance of Finn's dad (known to the Lego characters as "The Man Upstairs"), and a predictable but touching scene of reconciliation where dad's anger at finding Finn messing up his hard work quickly turns to introspection when he realizes that Lord Business - the bad guy of Finn's story who even looks similar to Ferrell's character - is meant to be a representation of him.

Of course, this causes a change of heart that is likewise reflected in Finn's fantasy. Emmet, frozen partially in place by a blast of Kragle, tells Lord Business, "You don't have to be the bad guy." The obvious interpretation is that the story is about building bridges between adults and children, fathers and sons. It's a timeless and heart-warming theme that really bears repeating, especially when it's done so well.

But I'm not sure that's the whole point.

I think this film can also be taken as a kind of manifesto for the new age of digital content creators - those whose work so often butts up against the system of carefully controlled copyrights and strict enforcement of laws against those who blur the line between IP theft and inspiration. It's a proclamation by the Creative Commons generation.

At the heart of Emmet's final speech to Lord Business is an invitation to look, both literally and metaphorically, out the window. Emmet draws the ruler's attention to all the common people enlisted by the master builders to resist Lord Business and his army of robotic Micro Managers, pointing out how wonderful it is for these people to be able to take the great world Lord Business has constructed and use its pieces to create their own works of art. Why, Emmet asks, would anyone want to suppress these people when they each bring their own special spark to the world - when each of them is capable of creating something wonderful from what already exists?

This strikes me as more than a reminder to parents of the glory and joy of their children's imaginativeness. It's a powerful and apt description of the creative philosophies that drive the rising generation of artists - a philosophy that perhaps we all once shared. Most of us who grew up playing with Legos will remember the familiar progression described by the film. When we get a new set, we start out by following the instructions to build it. We enjoy playing with it for a while, then, inspired by boredom, the example of a friend, or merely the growing mass of spare parts littering our bedroom floors, we decide to see if we can create something of our own. Possibly we never started with a boxed set, but just with a bucket of multicolored pieces and nothing but suggestions for how to use them. Either way, we eventually outgrow the instructions and start to experiment. This opens up new worlds of creativity for us - worlds in which the rules don't necessarily apply. We're free to make and unmake things as many times as we want, all in an effort to discover the best ideas we can, and in so doing to discover something about ourselves. Pretty soon, although we still admire the sets as they're intended to be, we simply can't be content with the instructions at all. We all want to remake the world in our own image.

The film doesn't ignore the difficulties of this desire, either. At the end, when both Finn and Emmet have triumphed, Finn's dad informs him that the new rules allowing for free play will apply equally to his sister, an idea that terrifies Finn. The film ends with crude Duplo creations invading Emmet's newly liberated world, implying that the problems are far from over, but the secondary implication is that these unintended consequences can be likewise overcome with creativity and teamwork.

The film hints that Lord Business himself might have come from a similar place as the Emmet and the master builders, but he allowed his need for freedom to morph into a desire for control. Instead of reveling in his own creativity and that of others, he became jealous, capturing the master builders and forcing them to create all the instructions for the world according to his own corporate, cookie-cutter, cubby holed vision.

Lord Business has two personas in the film. One, President Business, is a likeable, charismatic, and
energetic leader of Octan: the company that makes, quite literally, everything. The other, Lord Business, is an evil, scheming maniac whose nefarious plans will overthrow the world. Of course, the former face is merely a front for the latter.

The creatives behind this story seem to be both relating the history of their movement and pleading for its future. "We know," they say, in effect, to the corporate copyright-centric culture, "we come from your system. We got to where we are, at least in part, by following your instructions. But now we're ready to be free, and if you try to keep us locked up, it's going to ruin everything." The characterization of the existing system as a short-sighted but essentially good father-figure seems to be both a statement of rebellion and affection. This manifesto is a gentle plea by creatives to be seen for who they are, not a disdainful or vitriolic rage against the machine. The fact that it was released by a major studio adds to both the irony and effectiveness of this message. It's an attempt to change the system by working within it. It's a peaceful revolt that is nonetheless clear about its revolutionary intent.

This is also mirrored in the story, in which the master builders infiltrate Lord Business's office by doing the last thing he expects of them - by following the instructions. But in the end, that's not enough. The only way to ultimately save the world is not only for every individual citizen to rise up in their unique creative power, but to convince the powers that be that there need not be a conflict in the first place. The battle would be too one-sided and the young and creative would be the casualties. The movie is about building a better world together, and nobody has to be the bad guy.