“Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery that mediocrity can pay to greatness,” said Oscar Wilde, 19th century poet and author of “The Picture of Dorian Gray.”
When hearing Wilde’s words, it is easy to dismiss how nearly any work, artistic or not, is a copy of something else. Therefore, categorizing anything as truly less-than based on originality alone is impossible. Humans created art for thousands of years, and they’ve imitated each other for thousands more, meaning the distinction between “mediocrity” and “greatness” is entirely subjective.
For example, look no further than Stephenie Meyer’s “Twilight” Saga, the first book published in 2005. Among the most popular book franchises of all time, it banked on a trend already present in literature: vampires. More specifically, Meyers highlighted conventionally attractive vampires falling in love with humans.
While this seemed novel at the time, Wilde would label it mediocre because of its recycled themes. After all, an English writer named John Polidori already covered romantic vampires in his 1819 short story “The Vampyre.” Lord Ruthven was his Edward Cullen as Miss Aubrey was his Bella Swan, and they also fell into a forbidden love that intrigued readers.
Because Meyer’s work was not original, the question still stands: Does its imitation decrease literary value? While readers may not appreciate the “Twilight” Saga for many reasons, lack of originality should not be one of them. After all, without its emphasis on teenage angst and lust, younger generations may have paid less attention to what makes vampires so intriguing.
While many projects rely on similar themes, there is no doubt each could still have unique literary, artistic or musical value. Creators have different perspectives on their work that often combine factors like race, gender, religion and time period. Life experiences play into originality just as much as concepts do, with figures like Polidori and Meyer channeling their imagination in wildly different ways.
One might also consider some of Andy Warhol’s infamous paintings, like the Campbell’s soup can and Marilyn Monroe replicas. While the subjects were already staples in pop culture, Warhol’s work transformed them into vibrant, radical works of art that perfectly paralleled social and political movements throughout the 1960s.
Another loophole to Wilde’s idea might be parody, which, according to the Webster’s New World College Dictionary, is “a literary or musical work imitating the characteristic style of some other work or of a writer or composer in a satirical or humorous way.”
One popular example of this phenomenon is Saturday Night Live, which imitates popular TV shows, movies, music and celebrities for comedic purposes. Kellywise, one of its most popular parodies, is a mixture of Kellyanne Conway and Pennywise portrayed by Kate McKinnon. Using the essence of an evil clown and our favorite “alternative facts” power-woman, SNL managed to create something I — and hopefully many other people — enjoy significantly more than their original counterparts.
Parody creates a new space that critiques, analyzes and expands upon meaning to the delight of viewers, who might then take interest in the reference work. By opening new dialogues, they might be able to perceive what they previously saw or read in a different light. This imitation promotes the imitated, adding value to the original instead of cheapening it.
Whether intentional or not, nothing is unique — and that doesn’t have to be a bad thing. What’s not broken doesn’t need fixing when people like it, and projects like the “Twilight” Saga and SNL are living proof. There is nothing truly new — especially in arts and entertainment — yet creatives continue to produce timeless works. Thus, “mediocrity” and “greatness” mean nothing in relation to novelty.
Edited by Cayli Yanagida | cyanagida@themaneater.com