At The Frontal Cortex (a blog you should bookmark), Wired contributing editor Jonah Lehrer reveals his backward reading habits (yes, he likes to peek at the endings first) and cites a study that may indicate people enjoy stories more when they know spoilers ahead of time ("Spoilers Don't Spoil Anything"). Is this why some moviegoers actually want to see trailers that consistently give away not only a movie's major plot developments but the best lines and most memorable (that is, salable) images?
I'm always in favor of spoiler warnings in criticism out of respect for readers, who should be able to choose whether they care about discovering certain developments or twists if they haven't seen the film under discussion yet. If, like Jonah Lehrer, you prefer to know about endings (or story points beyond the basic premise) in advance, then go ahead and watch the trailers or skip to the end of the DVD or peek at the final pages of the book. Nobody's stopping you. But don't try to force your ways on the rest of us. The critic who delights in giving away spoilers is like the drunken heckler who's seen a stand-up comic's act and shouts out the punchlines before the jokes are set up.
I'm also interested in counter-intuitive arguments, however. (I'm fascinated that today's electric cars actually create more pollution and consume more energy than gas-powered vehicles, because of how their batteries are manufactured and charged -- which is not to say that we shouldn't make them, because the greater the demand, the more efficient the production cycle will become. And, of course, the less we rely on coal to generate electricity, the cleaner that process will get.)
While I question the statistical significance of the data in the study Lehrer cites, I do find some of Lehrer's observations intriguing. (I enthusiastically recommend his book about the arts and the brain, "Proust Was a Neuroscientist.") He concludes his post with three "random thoughts," to which I will respond one by one:
1.) In this age of information, we've become mildly obsessed with avoiding spoilers, staying away from social media lest we learn about the series finale of "Lost" or the surprising twist in the latest blockbuster. But this is a new habit. After all, mass culture consisted for thousands of years of stories that were incredibly predictable, from the Greek tragedy to the Shakespearean wedding to the Hollywood happy ending. (Did this hankering for shocking endings begin with "The Usual Suspects"? It's not like Twitter could ruin the end of a John Wayne movie.) What this research suggests is that the lack of surprise was part of the pleasure: We like it best when the suspense is contained by the formulaic, when we never have to really worry about the death of the protagonist or the lovers in a romantic comedy. I'd argue that, in many instances, the very fact that we're seeing a particular type of movie (or reading a particular type of book) is itself a giveaway, a reminder that we know how it will all turn out. Every genre is a kind of spoiler.
Genres do set up expectations: You can reasonably assume that a gangster picture or a war movie will not end with a wedding (though they might begin with one: "The Godfather," "The Deer Hunter"), or that, say, a slapstick romantic comedy will not end with the deaths of the protagonists (though it can be done: see Buster Keaton's 1927 "College"). But knowing in advance that something is a comedy or a tragedy really tells you only a little about the direction of the story's momentum, or the tone of a movie's vision. We don't always know exactly what kind of story we're being told until it's over -- which, I suppose, is part of Lehrer's point. But, personally, I'm not so sure I "like it best when suspense is contained by the formulaic." I'm happiest, I think, when I have no idea where the movie might take me, intellectually or emotionally; when unpredictable shifts in tone make me feel that anything could happen.
(And incidentally, I beg to differ: An indiscreet tweet could indeed spoil the ending of "Red River," "The Searchers," "The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance," "The Shootist"... )
2.) Just because we know the end doesn't mean there aren't surprises. Even when I cheat and read the final pages first, a good thriller will still surprise me with how it gets there. Perhaps we've overvalued the pleasure of the shocking ending at the expense of those smaller astonishments along the way. It's about the narrative journey, not the final destination, etc. Christenfeld and Leavitt even speculate the knowing the ending might increase the narrative tension: "Knowing the ending of Oedipus may heighten the pleasurable tension of the disparity in knowledge between the omniscient reader and the character marching to his doom. "
Billy Wilder used this approach in "Sunset Boulevard," beginning with Joe Gillis dead in Norma Desmond's swimming pool as he narrates the tale of his own demise -- which emphasizes the fatalism of this Hollywood film noir. Starting a story at a climactic point and then looping back to show how the characters got into their predicament is a familiar storytelling device that creates a kind of narrative tension or suspense. Sometimes the characters themselves find themselves wondering how they got into this pickle. And sometimes we aren't let in on what's really happening until we return to the opening scene later on.
By the time "Fight Club" circles back to Tyler Durden and his hostage, we have a radically different perspective on the dynamics between the characters than we did at the beginning. "Out of Sight" was originally structured chronologically, but director Steven Soderbergh decided to give the opening a little more panache. So, Jack Foley (George Clooney) emerges from an office building in a huff, rips off his tie and throws it down -- freeze-framed in mid-gesture. What's he so mad about? We don't have to wait terribly long to find out, but the fun is in discovering how this moment sets the rest of the story in motion.
But these are choices made by the filmmakers. If they'd wanted to tell the story some other way, then they had that option. (Anyone who remembers the cut and straightened-out US theatrical release version of Sergio Leone's "Once Upon a Time in America" knows how crucial such decisions can be. That version was horrible, even though the storytelling was -- in theory, at least -- more direct. Some like the chronological "The Godfather: A Novel for Television" that Francis Coppola pasted together in 1977, but I think it's a defacement, flattening out the inter-generational counterpoint that gives the "Godfather" saga, particularly the superior "Part II," its resonance.)
Any story worth telling is going to be more than just a formula or an outline and will contain "smaller astonishments" (not necessarily plot developments, but details, moments, images) along the way. We should at least respect artists/storytellers enough to let them tell their stories in the ways they prefer. That's their art. Is it more fun to know the punch line before the joke? Maybe, if the joke is constructed that way (e. g., Carnac the Magnificent). The tale, or the joke, succeeds or fails in the telling.
3.) Surprises are much more fun to plan than experience. The human mind is a prediction machine, which means that it registers most surprises as a cognitive failure, a mental mistake. Our first reaction is almost never "How cool! I never saw that coming!" Instead, we feel embarrassed by our gullibility, the dismay of a prediction error. While authors and screenwriters might enjoy composing those clever twists, they should know that the audience will enjoy it far less....
This makes some psychological sense to me, as perhaps a variation on Stephen King's "ten-foot-tall bug" phenomenon, in which the reveal of a story's monster is greeted with shock, followed almost immediately by disappointment ('cause it could have been worse). However, I feel almost as sorry for those who pride themselves on predicting plot turns as I do for those who crow about their ability to spot continuity errors. What piffling ways of looking at movies. I like to be surprised (or "fooled," if you prefer) -- not just for the sake of novelty, but because of a story well-told, a line well-written and delivered, an emotion well-played, an image well-composed, a cut well-judged...
Your thoughts/preferences?
47 Comments
I may be sick and twisted but, these days, I see movies from the polar opposite angle of worrying about spoilers. I feel like movies are basically made for re-watching anyway... and that's the only place the surprise matters, if you react any differently to it seeing it again at a different point in your life. (And if not, maybe if it just reminds you of something you needed to be reminded of or feel again. Like any good song.) And how can you really spoil anything until you've really seen everything in action? A spoiler to me is seeing the whole movie except the ending because your power goes out or there's a scratch on the disk at the climax.
Good point. I still want to have the "blank slate" experience (as much as possible) the first time, but some movies ARE made to be "re-watched." Once you've seen them, repeat viewings are different experiences. Whereas, if a movie is basically plot-driven (without all those other pleasures that make movies movies), then you don't get anything more out of it the second time than you did the first. You may find even less to hold your interest.
When "The Killer Inside Me" was released, I was very hesitant about going to see it... because I really dreaded a specific type of unpleasant, unconstructive experience I'd had with a few other movies about helplessly depraved people... If anybody goes back to those comments, it can be seen that Jim got a little frustrated with me sitting on the fence and wanting to know more without just going to see it or just not going to see it, just making up my damn mind already.
Anyway, curiosity got to me, I went and saw it and incidentally thought it was pretty darned good, a tough watch, but not a pointless exercise because the writing, performances, editing and direction all came together to force me to question a lot of my all too easy, empathy-leaning assumptions about "broken people who do bad things" and motivations versus rationalization in general. (Not sure about the rest of what Jim may have seen it, maybe some re-watch someday I will too.) The point I mean to make though, is that I think Jim was right about this issue, that you really don't know what you're dealing with until you're sitting there watching it happen.
And, sometimes, even then... Claude Chabrol movies, like "Le Boucher," or Errol Morris movies, like "Tabloid," for example. I mean, what can knowing all that happened really help you there? The deepest human mysteries go beyond discovery of information or hidden motivations...
I'm gonna add one more sentence to what I wrote above, because the recent Scanners post, "Apes and allegories: What is the meaning of this?" and the intro on Cronenberg, an artist focused a lot on fragility of flesh, got me thinking about it...
It's the final horror/awe of things that's of a greater value to me, in terms of how I react to a film, than the joy or terror of surprise. (In life though, it may be different. But let's focus on movies for a moment.) Does knowing the scientific reason why a character has mutated into a manfly change much of the effect? (A little less gasping?) Does knowing it will happen help though the gruesome looking/sounding transition? (Maybe it does by a hair?) And does it explain anything that a character's sudden psychotic turn can be blamed on their recent mutations? (Or is the greater mystery not their motivation but just how this could be at all and that maybe we're all susceptible to the same thing if we were in their skin?) Does knowing what will happen next (let's say death) really cancel the other alternatives (all that could have been, based on what was) out of your mind?
So, the greater issue to me, when I experience a movie: Does it mean anything? And your ideas on that could be influence by what somebody tells you ahead of time, or what frame of mind you are in...
I am having trouble accepting Point 3. As you suggest at the end, we read Sherlock Holmes to be outsmarted.
Or am I reading his point wrong, and is Lehrer implying what Hitchcock did with his bomb-under-the-table scenario. Because if I remember, in Inglorious Basterds, especially in the tavern scene (which I consider a experimental failure), the proceedings would have been considerably heightened had the German dude sitting all alone been revealed to us beforehand. He would then have been the ticking bomb, so to speak.
A film cannot live or die based upon the twist or the surprise ending. This is why a film like Usual Suspects offers nothing upon repeat viewing. It is built up not around great characters and great scenes but relies solely on a 'ha! fooled you! Bet you didn't see that coming!' twist-ending premise which maybe works the first time but offers nothing for subsequent viewings. The same goes for Shyamalan's filmography. It is a cheap and lazy and shamelessly manipulative approach. They all speak to how clever the filmmakers/writers think they are rather than to the amount of care they've taken with creating solid characters and with telling an interesting story with real style (and not just flash).
Why are Hitchcock's films so endlessly watchable in comparison? Because they delve deeply into human psychology and offer us memorable characters, set-pieces, dialogue, and multi-dimensional, and carefully shaded performances (despite Hitchcock's notorious distaste for actors). And they remain genuinely captivating and disturbing generation after generation.
In other words, it doesn't matter if you know beforehand that Marion Crane gets it in the shower (which by this point who doesn't already know this even if they've never seen Psycho?). The movie doesn't stand or fall on the audience being taken by surprise by this scene. It is crafted on a whole different level. Which accounts for its staying power and re-watchability.
Building a film around any gimmick whether it is 3-D with fists or flames or spears flying out at the audience, or over-the-top raunchiness like the Hangover movies and their ilk, or the rug pulled out from underneath twist ending may get you an opening weekend at the box office but it cripples your film's chances at offering a timelessly rewarding experience.
People re-visit Sherlock Holmes because of the quality of the writing and the strength of the characters. The mysteries are fun to figure out and we try to keep ahead of (or at least keep up with) Holmes. But in the end the stories are all essentially interchangeable, just the basic engine which revs up the plot and gives us an excuse to spend some time with Holmes and Watson.
Why do they endure? There are thousands of detectives out there in the world of film and literature. Why do we keep coming back to Holmes and Philip Marlowe and Sam Spade? The quality of the prose, the unique style the author brings to the page and the characters really make all the difference. Nobody remembers the plot to The Big Sleep but everyone remembers what a cool customer Bogart was and those slyly erotic exchanges between Bogie and Bacall.
Now that's entertainment!
I'm with you. That's why I want to know as little as possible. Even a bad film may, at least, have a few plot surprises in store. After that (as in the case of Shyamalan), there's little else of interest. As David Cronenberg recently said of M. Night: "I HATE that guy. Next question!"
I might be wary of dismissing The Usual Suspects so soon. The thing is, despite the "gotcha!" angle, the film offers so much more on repeated viewings.
I can, still today, watch that movie solely for the way Bryan Singer edits the aircraft landing to the beats in the background score. It is such a visual pleasure, I tell you. The way he stages the action is probably the kind of stylish/macho posturing we hardly see nowadays.
My problem with T.U.S. has never been its editing and direction, which I think has enough style to burn, it's the twist that doesn't seem to add anything to the movie for me, that's where the movie falls shorts of being good. (Or, for some, becomes great.) I'm not sure what the meaning is supposed to be. The Devil always wins? Don't trust anybody's shows of feelings, especially a criminal's, despite whatever vulnerability and codes of honour they seem to show? These are dubiously simplistic notions in and of themselves, I don't see the filmmaker's dealing with meaning of them on screen to lend credibility to this way of reading the movie. I just see young filmmakers trying to break into the biz by spinning a yarn with an ending that entertainment only minded audiences will see and go "oh neato!" The movie up until that point, almost works. We feel it's leading to something satisfying. But then the writer can't find a way out that pulls all these intriguing threads together, except to invoke The Hand of Satan instead of the typical deus ex.
Disagree about Suspects. To me, while the ending is magnficient, it is about much more than that. A superb story, great performances, terrific direction, all leading to one of the greatest endings of all time. However the film is very much greater than the sum of its parts. The same for The sixth Sense and Unbreakable, however I agree completely about Shyamalan's other films.
In the case of M. Night Shymalan, I actually think "The Sixth Sense," of which I knew the ending before I had seen it, does work quite well even when the twist is known since it's not really a plot driven film but an actual story about people trying to connect, whether it be Cole trying to connect to his mother or Bruce Willis' character Malcolm trying to connect to his wife. The twist at the end ties everything together thematically and emotionally so that instead of feeling "gimmicky," the twist feels organic to what came before hand. The same goes for "Unbreakable" as well, for me at least. The ending of "Signs," while Jim thought was immoral, I also think brings together Shyamlan was doing throughout the film.
I'm in the minority in liking "The Village." While I think the film suffers from having the most interesting thing about it kept secret until the end, I've always really liked Bryce Dallas Howard's performance and like the romance between her and Joaquin Phoenix.
While I would put Hitchcock above Shyamalan since Hitchcock is my favourite director, and do agree with criticisms of Shymalan's work, I do think Shymalan has created memorable characters in Cole Sear, Ivy Walker in "The Village", and Elijah Prince in "Unbreakable."
I think your comment pinpoints why "The Sixth Sense" works and "The Usual Suspects" doesn't. That is, if the audience member cares about being a human. I can't speak for all breathing bodies that happen to have a heart and brain in them out there.
Hello. I haven't seen The Usual Suspects for quite some time I will try to address your criticisms in the best way I can.
Firstly, I find your statement "I just see young filmmakers trying to break into the biz by spinning a yarn with an ending that entertainment only minded audiences will see and go "oh neato!"" to be quite condescending. It's find not to like the ending of the film but from this statement I sense you're trying to say you're more refined than other movie goers. I do like the ending but I don't think that makes me an "entertainment only minded" movie watcher. I'm not trying to judge you because I don't know you at all but that's the reaction your statement gave me.
Now on to the question of what the ending means. I don't think it's about how the devil always wins so much as its about the ways in which the devil can win. I think if Keyser Soze/Verbal Kint wins at the end of the film it's because he convinces the Chazz Palmintari character, Kujan, that he is stronger and smarter than Soze/Kint. Kujan's own arrogance brings him down.
Does the ending bring the threads of the film together? I would say yes. When it is revealed that Kint Is Keyser Soze, it shows, as I mentioned earlier, what Soze has been doing to Kujan all along, as well as what he has been doing to us the audience as well. The reveal also brings together the story between Kujan and Keaton (Gabriel Byrne), showing us how Kujan misjudged Keaton by thinking he was Soze as well as how Keaton misjudged Verbal, thinking him a partner and maybe a friend.
Again, I haven't seen the film in a while so I'm probably missing a few things in my analysis. I hope I've gotten across how I feel about the ending.
I like how you read it, I agree all that is there and you're right that is probably how it's intended to be read, but I still feel suckerpunched because I think the story of the outcast criminal (Verbal, not Soze) who won't rat on his friends is more interesting than the twist we get in the end.
I am unfairly exaggerating the degree to which the filmmaker's were just trying to do something amusing... and, granted, not every audience member out there only cares about entertainment. But before I go on, can I say, in defence of me now, I ike to go "oh neato!" too watching a movie. A lot of my favourite movies have me doing that every few minutes. (I think of "Miller's Crossing," for example.) The Usual Suspects maybe made me do that once or twice, not at the ending but during the clever Kobayashi scenes, with the great (late) Pete Postlethwaite. Anywho, I'm not belittling the importance of entertainment, but the movie had better be extremely (Tarantino level) entertaining if it's not giving me much else to chew on emotionally. (Of course, it's different if we're talking about a comedy, like "Trouble in Paradise." Those movies are here to provide relief, they're not trillers/horror/drama. Well, unless you want to make that argument, which maybe you could but nevermind that at the moment.)
The Usual Suspects may have pleased me in my teens. Nowadays I find myself agreeing with something David Fincher said once: "I don't know how much movies should entertain... I'm always interested in movies that scar." Movies that, maybe even a little perversely, are all the more entertaining because they're disturbing. That's really who I have in mind when I say "entertainment only minded audiences," people who just want to be safely amused, maybe even safely disturbed, without feeling too much beyond that comfort zone. Maybe it is condescending of me though to assume that's The Usual Suspect's target audience.
A young Bryan Singer and Christopher McQuarrie do indeed try to give something else, as you explain... but there are only paper thin illustrations of what you're discussing and so I just can't take it very seriously. The manipulations and exploitations of arrogance that you're talking about, always fun stuff, in the Usual Suspects it's fairly standard Hollywood shenanigans, versus, say, the much more complex mindgames going on between Walter White and his druglord boss Gus on TV's Breaking Bad. Again, I feel like the movie maybe misses out on the real story, which could maybe have been something about the codes of criminals. (I'm thinking of the ending of Reservoir Dogs here, which is a lot more involving for me personally. And maybe the only time, Jackie Brown aside, that QT made a movie actually about something.)
But maybe I'm asking for or expecting too much, that could be my problem. I feel I've seen better magic tricks, more thorough insights and felt deeper stories, so, The Usual Suspects feels too.... well, usual. But only by a bit! My reaction to the ending was: "Ah! ...Huh? Oh, okay." When I hoped for: "Ah... Hah! Hmm..." Which is more my reaction to the end of "The Sixth Sense." But maybe "The Sixth Sense" is a better movie than I gave it credit for originally... and maybe "The Usual Suspects" is too, even if it doesn't move me personally, all the more so because the twist doesn't seem to ingenious to me, and I wouldn't be the only audience member to have seen it coming. If you look at my first comment on this page, you'll see that's not a dealbreaker for me. If it arrives and still carries some weight, some devastation, maybe I buy it anyway. I remember the last time I saw the movie (a rewatch) it felt flat. Too contrived, too many gears turning too blatantly on screen, too little pay off. I dunno, maybe I could lighten up a bit and give it a pass... It is only Keyser Soze after all, not Gus Fring or the gangsters of "Gomorrah"...
Ps. Just found this article about "puppetmaster" characters: http://latimesblogs.latimes.com/showtracker/2011/08/breaking-bad-recap-whos-pulling-the-strings.html
"That’s the problem with having one character who controls so much of the story without really getting to see his point-of-view: It makes so much of what happens (and whether it works) dependent on the final reveal of what that character’s grand master plan was. There are plenty of ways to make this work well (again, I’d point you to that reveal of Gus’ ultimate plan last season). There are plenty of ways to undercut that sense (like when we learned Ben really didn’t know everything he said he knew on “Lost”)."
To me, The Usual Suspects 180 on everything is closer to that 180 on Lost.
Hope this is all understandable enough.
Actually, Hitchcock intended the protagonist's sudden demise very early in Psycho to be a big surprise. As did he the twist at the end. He begged early audiences not to discuss what they had seen or give away any plot points.
I think it's silly to say that twists or surprises are pointless or more fun for the creator than consumer. Why do mystery novels make up one of the most marketable genres in fiction? Because, amongst other things, people love to feel puzzled, confused, and stumped. (Not that we don't also like to occasionally "figure it out first".) That sort of epistemic confusion and shock is thrilling. And spoilers ruin it.
I (and most of my family who are all serious cinema viewers)all disagree with your assessment of The Usual Suspects. The twist at the end isn't so much a surprise as one of the possible logical conclusions. The art in the film is the storytelling by Verbal. In this he twists a tale that must confound the police, fit the circumstances and events and protect his identity. The story is told by him and of course everything we see is his interpretation/story. After my first viewing I tried to reconcile the truth with his story. Even after multiple viewings, I was still stymied by the duplicitous nature of the story. There seem to be holes in it yet it holds together. Why did he do this and that? How did he know that and the other? The questions abound and it is fun try and derive the answers.
So, I guess it is clear I liked that movie. While I still do watch it, I am extremely glad that I didn't know the ending the first time.
And on that note, just because a movie is very re-watchable does not mean that you get the same type of enjoyment on repeat viewings. There is enjoyment for sure but I believe that the first time is the one that lays down in your mind to be added to by further viewings but the original feeling still stands. Every viewing of, for example "Planet of the Apes" (original)still evokes the same original feeling I had at the end. That feeling is something I think is lost when the ending is pre-known.
I think the greatest insight of Lehrer's argument, at least the fragment of it posted here, is some natural affinity to reject certain surprises outright. I don't mean this is a constant reaction, but as our tastes in literature, film, and art mature, there is a frequent challenging, or reaffirmation, of convention, and our gradual exposure to each colors our long lasting opinions. What was once customary and enjoyable can become stale and anemic, while experimentation and execution that originally perturbed us becomes inspired.
Shyamalan should probably make for a great contemporary study in "Memorable Downward Trajectories". That said, I predict his films will experience a revival in 20-30 years once the fog has settled. No one goes into a Roger Corman film (or a Troma film) expecting greatness - I think that's the problem between Shyamalan and his audience. In fact, that's probably the difference between Shyamalan and the films he ends up making. That said, "The Sixth Sense" really did offer a great second viewing (but not a third) because you realized how clever the the film was in how it presented its characters and what information was actually on screen at any given moment. "Unbreakable" was at the forefront of films that put superheroes in the "real world" (as opposed to a fantasy or comic land) - the "twist" was a letdown because it may not have been truly intended as one. And "Signs" was a solid thriller that still carries some semblance of what life was like before knowing Mel Gibson's personal troubles. I can honestly say that everything else has been one huge disappointment after another.
On another note, I watched Atom Egoyan's "Chloe" recently and there were times when I almost couldn't tell if it was a film by Egoyan or Cronenberg! The lack if video-casette stomach-vaginas and Viggo Mortensen kept reminding me of the difference.
"On another note, I watched Atom Egoyan's "Chloe" recently and there were times when I almost couldn't tell if it was a film by Egoyan or Cronenberg! The lack if video-casette stomach-vaginas and Viggo Mortensen kept reminding me of the difference."
And here I thought I was the only one experiencing that phenomenon.
Actually, I think the movies of Egoyan and Cronenberg compliment each other pretty well in general. Movies about strange wanderings through hidden zones of twisting cities... The city, in both "Videodrome" and "Chloe," is Toronto, and that may be one unconscious reason why you smell a double feature coming on between the two movieverses.
And then there's Guy Maddin, making similarly seedy-metropolitan-underground-exploring movies, but set in Winnipeg. As a Canadian, I'd say it may be a Canadian thing but then there's always David Lynch and Alfred Hitchcock... Anyway, I tend to love movies (or stories, like Poe's "Man of the Crowd" and Fitzgerald's "Great Gatsby") that are of this "flaneur" nature... and they adapt well (maybe even elementally) to the movie screen experience. The witness...
When I look at trailers for old films, e.g., TREASURE OF SIERRA MADRE, TRUE GRIT, CITIZEN KANE, DOG DAY AFTERNOON, TAXI DRIVER, etc., it amazes how riddled with spoilers they are by today's standards. I'm not talking about new trailers for old films, mind; I mean the original trailers.
I can only conclude that audiences of the past wanted to know what to expect when they paid to see a film. I think nowadays we prefer spoiler-free trailers because we have the opposite problem: we know far too much about the movie we're about to see to begin with.
I agree with the main premise: It's not the tale that's told, but how it's told, that really counts.
Part of the process of watching something for the first time is experiencing it like the characters, to be put un their shoes. To take an example, when you read Oedipus, the ending is horrifying if you put you put yourself in the place of Oedipus. If you know the ending, you are putting yourself in the place of a god(or possibly an impassionate observer). The ending goes from "What did I do?" to a shrug of the shoulders. I hate spoilers. If I had known the ending to Lost, I never would have started watching the series and missed 5 good years of storytelling.
This also ties into something I've been saying since seeing Lost and Super 8. Those were sometimes billed as mysteries, but they don't give you enough clues to figure out the mystery on your own. In order for a mystery to work, the viewer must have some way to figure out the ending. If you have 10 people on an deserted island and one is murdered, the murderer must be amoung the nine in order to have an effective mystery. If at the end, the murderer walks out of the bushes and it is someone you've never seen before, then it is not a mystery. I was able to figure out the twist to Sixth Sense. I was not able to figure out Fight Club. I actually thought Durden would end up having had plastic surgery and come out looking like Edward Norton and the two Nortons would have to fight. I didn't figure out the mystery to Super 8 because Abrams really didn't care about the mystery. Weird things happened for reasons that were not explained in the end. I mean, why were humans taken? Why did dogs run off? It made no sense at the end of the film.
A good example of not knowing in advance what will happen is Toy Story 3. I won't give away what happens, but the brilliance of an animated movie going with the risk makes it a frightening/rewarding experience. Do you know what I mean?
I think he's maybe taken a speed-reading kind of logic and kind of overblown its importance (which is kind of telling to me, as the mind of one who is perhaps brainwashed by marketing techniques, also used by politicians, with a promise of easy answers; like "buy this and get a great weight off your shoulders"...yeah, sure).
But about speed-reading, I became interested in something called "Photoreading", which I became interested in after reading the script to "Good Will Hunting", where, in the beginning, he is flipping through a book at about a page per second. On reading that, I thought, "Wow, the brain can do that?!" Then there was an infomercial about a guy purporting to be able to do that, so I got it (never really used it; but did get info out of it). It talks about how only 3% of text has salient meaning, and the other 97% is filler. And in it it asks you to ask about purpose: "What do you want out of this book?" "What is your goal?." And, in it, it says to first read the inside covers of a book and look for what you are looking for etc. and you might just get what you are looking for without having to read Or "Photoread" the whole book. So, for instance, today, I still will read like the first paragraph of Roger's reviews, and then will read the rest of the review going from the last paragraph backward to the first (I also might go back to the 2nd paragraph and read it forward again if, for instance, a paragraph starts out with information already to be understood, basically saying "As I said in the last paragraph...").
And it makes for reading the review much faster (which was kind of the goal in the first place). (This is also why I write my comments in a way where it is always kind of going somewhere and is not set-up like a more academic paper; the end won't kind of tell you everything).
So, maybe the writer kind of saw something about how much more "purposeful" it was to kind of read backwards; it is more fluid. So, perhaps, as from a kind of soaking-everything-in really fast form of taking in information (and there probably is some higher form of brain being used in good movies, in some cases) and really getting to the point, then that might be a better way, but I think perhaps what he is really talking about (and doesn't know he is talking about) is to be in praise of narrative efficiency. How to tell a story where "the point" of it kind of gathers fast momentum from the very beginning, although, with art, I'd probably say that how it is done is the point. But since we're talking about movies and such, I think there is a connection between discoveries and "the how" of it.
Art is the illusion of spontaneity.
Yes, the kind of key word is Illusion.
So, the greatest art will capitalize on the spontaneity and it will have to be done in such a way where the spontaneity is capitalized on.
My favorite musician is Sandor Vegh (classical violinist and conductor...also teacher), because I think he brought out the spontaneity of pieces AT ALL TIMES, which was very crucial because it gave them a timelessness. Also, I think that the mind of God is spontaneity. Also, I think that art isn't truly art unless it praises art itself. That is to say that art should conspire to make each individual part a matter of joy that it wouldn't have been otherwise; the part, in question, is elevated. And I mean Every individual part that can possibly be conceived, in every sense of the word. So, art is kind of like praising God in a sense, was what I was trying to get to; the great art capitalizes on spontaneity the best, like a certain part will unexpectedly sing (set up that way on purpose) and in that way, kind of praising God. Anyway, you can click on my name and see how Sandor Vegh brings out the spontaneity and there will be a few scintillating part, and what I've noticed is that every time I listen to it, it is like the first time I've heard it. There's a timelessness about spontaneity. I get the kind of goosebumps, if you will, every time. I could listen to it over and over and it will always do that. Also, by the way, art is a drug, (if done correctly); as Beethoven said "Music is the wine which inspires one to new generative processes, and I am Bacchus who presses out this glorious wine for mankind and makes them spiritually drunken."
So, I do agree with the writer that, if it is done right, there is a kind of timelessness and it will always feel like the first time. But, say, with a movie that has kind of narrative-discoveries, if those discoveries are married with the moments where they capitalize most on the spontaneity (kind of the art of the surprise) and each big scintillating capitalization is bigger and better than the next (one narrative discovery is bigger than the next), then you could make the case that they've almost become intertwined: the spontaneity itself and the narrative discoveries. Now, it will always feel like the first time, in terms of the spontaneity, but it was designed to be set up where one discovery is bigger than the next.
Also, spontaneity has to kind of have a void before the capitalization of which.
Spontaneity wouldn't be spontaneity if it were constant.
So, basically, the how and the what are different. It seems he's trying to say they are the same thing, but they're not. Also, if they are married to each other, where capitalization of spontaneity is greater than the next, then you'd kind of be spoiling yourself of the kind of feeling of, well, feeling that one part is even better than the next.
You can click on my name to see the timelessness of when capitalization of spontaneity is not only realized in the what (the composition), but in the how, of execution (the performer).....go to the 5:15 mark to see "the greater capitalization" of spontaneity and in part 2 (should have put them together in one video) you can go to the 3:30 mark and there is another scintillating part, even better than the first scintillating part.
(go to 5:15 for scintillating part)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=voR24WFpqCE
(go to 3:18 mark for Even better scintillating part)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l8hvtCv4Z-0
So, you can see how it is designed to get better and better as it goes Forward with waves of voids setting up the scintillating parts, each better than the last.
So, going backwards, would, yes, give you the better parts, but then it would go downhill from there, in a sense.
The short version of my last comment (also proving that 3% of the text has salient meaning; the rest is filler) is the writer thinks the how and what are the same and they're not.
That's okay man, the maelstrom is the message.
I think part of what this gets at... is how important the physical and visceral dimensions of film are. That those are largely what we go to experience, but in a safe environment of course, which is another key thing about film versus, say, video-games or (not yet in existence but maybe someday) virtual reality.
But, yes, the how, the craft, the sculpting in time (and tedium at the movies should not be ignored as meaningless static, it may very well be part of the message) and we like to consider the little details of life... or life on screen at least.
When you see a trailer, you see snippets of these things, enough that you may feel you've experienced the movie already. Well, maybe. But I hardly think a trailer compares to the full experience of a feature length film. Same with seeing one scene out of the flow of the whole film. I might like "Full Metal Jacket" a lot more if it was just a short film of only the opening act; I might think "Seven" is an even better movie if it had one more scene (Somerset returning home to his metronome or something, bring the movie full circle) to smooth out that awkward ending... My point being maybe, you can only know individual scenes, not a whole movie, from trailers. And even then, you're only seeing a blip of a scene, not sitting there drifting away into the movie while under the filmmakers' hypnosis...
I forgot to say that I also read Roger's reviews first paragraph and then last paragraph backwards if it is a movie where I don't want to know anything about what happens. And the middle is where all the plot and everything is. If it is Really a movie where I don't want to know anything, then I won't read the review at all (probably catch some of the first paragraph because it's right there).
I'm with you Jim in preferring to experience a film as a blank slate. Some of my favorite filmgoing experiences, like seeing Head-On, were when I walked in not knowing anything about the plot and the film proceeded in a way that I had no clue where it was going.
One of the problems with twist endings is that even when the actual twist isn't spoiled, as long as you know there is a twist, it is often easy to guess what the twist will be (as was the case for me with Shutter Island). As hard as it is to keep away from spoilers, it's almost impossible to stay ignorant of the fact that there is a twist to be spoiled. I'm thankful I saw The Crying Game as a sneak preview and had no idea a surprise was coming.
Fun fact about "Shutter Island"--it's actually a very enjoyable thriller if you've read the book first (the book is able to camouflage the twist much better, so you're free to enjoy the movie as a movie and to see how, specifically, they're going to execute the vision of the book.
The thing that makes "The Usual Suspects" work on repeated viewings--at least for me--is that it becomes an entirely different movie once you know the ending. The first time through, it's a twisty crime drama; the second time through, you can recognize Kujan as the sole protagonist, and it becomes a tragedy about a smart guy & a good cop brought down by his arrogance.
I too prefer to be surprised, but I also find that if a movie is truly good, the surprise will only be one great aspect. For me, the best example is The Sixth Sense. I loved the film the first time and was totally surprised at the end. Like most people, I watched it again to see where I missed signs that Bruce Willis was dead. But I've seen the movie two or three more times and keep enjoying it because it is so richly layered with relational dynamics. You see Haley Joel Osment relate to his mom and Bruce Willis really relate to his wife.
Another example is Million Dollar Baby. I made the mistake of knowing the ending before I watched it, yet it still was a moving picture (although I still wish I hadn't spoiled the ending for myself).
I love being surprised, especially if I don't know a movie has one. That's one of the reasons I really enjoyed Midnight in Paris. I had no clue the story was going the way it went.
Idea: When we talk about spoilers, are we really talking about movies or about the more general pleasure of being surprised in life? Is this really a nitty gritty details of film-experiencing question or more a question of general etiquette, respecting people's opportunity to be surprised? (My response was: "Of course, discovering something new is always fun. But that seems to me like a separate endeavour of your life journey and timing in history than talking about movies.")
Sure, it could be a bit of both, a bit of enjoying surprises and a bit of feeling they're integral to experience of a movie. But, to me, if the movie is really any good, it will hold up one way or another... "The Sixth Sense" has a big twist that could make for a big spoiler but the movie itself isn't all that addictive to rewatch, whereas something like "Fight Club" is... well, at least for some of us sick and twisted audiences. I don't care what the spoiler is so much, I care how it interests me as I sit through it. If it works, it should almost always work... but maybe not always in the same way, if you know what I mean. A movie that really holds up -- that has real mystery in it -- does because you see something a little bit different each time. A hero with a thousand faces. (A scene containing a thousand illusions.) Those are the questions I keep considering, not so much what happens next.
Do I care who plays the killer in Seven? Or do I care how chillingly he's played and the distinct physical features and mannerisms of the actor's performance, as caught on screen those particular days of shooting? I'll go with the latter. Furthermore, how do we determine what a spoiler really is? Is the title of a movie a spoiler? Knowing who the director is during the opening credits? And where do adaptations of pop stories people are already familiar with fit into all this? Does it matter that we already knew the Zodiac killer was never caught going into Zodiac? Does it matter if we already know the backstory of the Girl With the Dragon Tattoo?
hat's more unsure to me is how we change the experience of something by interrupting the flow with rewinds, fast-forwards, pauses... or seeing clips out of context... David Bordwell once wrote a little piece on this, looking at Memento's release on DVD, and he concluded that it's more "interpretation" than "manipulation" that audiences are looking for anyway... and I agree... but I wonder if maybe some further experiments may be required, because with YouTube and all this is becoming a much more common experience, seeing fragments of films before a whole film.
Personally, I believe that as much as possible one should try to watch a film intently from start to finish.
Unless the movie (or TV show that's so good it might as well play in) gives you intermissions or breaks between episodes. Then you should probably seize this opportunity to go sleep, grab snacks, go to the washroom or pay your rent or go to your dayjob so you can pay your electricity bill and keep watching movies.
Since Mr. Lehrer likes spoilers, I'll spoil the discussion for him: when all the tests have been done, the results will be that sometimes some people prefer spoilers and sometimes some people don't.
We know that nearly everyone likes "spoilers" sometimes, if you've ever watched a favorite movie more than once. However, many people are sports fans because watching your favorite team is like watching your favorite movie over and over, but every time you see it, it turns out differently, and you don't always know.
I tend to prefer *not* to know spoilers. I just read Bleak House (Dickens) for the first time, knowing nothing about it. On the one hand, the marriage of one character was a surprise to me (I started guessing it only shortly before it happened), and it gave me almost exactly the “How cool! I never saw that coming!” reaction that Lehrer says we don't get. On the other hand, the death of another character surprised me negatively; I had hoped that that character would survive. At that moment, I might have given the story a lower "hedonic rating," but that feeling of sadness and shock is part of what made the story work for me. Enjoyment is not the only emotional reaction worth having, and I would have had real trouble reading a novel of such length if I had known the story's outcome from the beginning. [The graphic on Lehrer's page is funny: "Dumbledore dies on Page 596 (I just saved you 4 hours and $30)" That's 149 pages per hour. Maybe they meant $4 and 30 hours.]
Having said that, some commenters mentioned Shyamalan. I saw The Village on DVD after I had read of the "twist." I liked the movie, probably more than I would have in the theater. Knowing the twist, I was able to watch the goings-on in the village for what they were, a sort of sociological experiment, which I found interesting.
So I guess it just depends. But I agree strongly with Jim that I want to decide for myself whether or not to know a spoiler. And most of the time, I decide not to.
Have you ever noticed how people in the theatre laugh loudest at the scenes they've already seen in the trailer, as if they've been brainwashed? It makes me wonder...Do I do that when I'm re-watching at home?
Weirdly, I laugh the least at the jokes I see in a trailer, but when I'm rewatching Seinfeld at home, I tend to laugh hardest at the jokes I remember from previous viewing. But the best jokes in Seinfeld were always bolstered and layered by the (relative to sitcom) subtleties of performance.
"The Blank Slate" preference would seem to be a defence against predetermining (or having other predetermine for you) thoughts on a movie. That is a more legitimate concern than worrying the surprise is ruined, because we really are all impressionable people susceptible to suggestion... (Just one other thought I'm having here. And now I'm turning back to my paper work. But with all the thoughtful commenters here today increasing my faith in humanity by about 5-6%, though this tends to waiver as much as the stock market.)
When Lehrer says "It's about the narrative journey, not the final destination, etc.," I'm certain that's true for him, but I know it isn't true for everyone. For me, it's both.
I can't think of a good movie example right now, but I remember reading a book by an author I liked, and I kept wondering where he was going with it, and wondering, and wondering...got to the last page, and threw the book across the room. I found his conclusion downright offensive, and it ruined the book for me.
So if the journey isn't any good, neither is the movie. But the same is true for the destination.
Oh, and I prefer not to have spoilers in advance, usually. In the case of that book, I would have welcomed them, so I didn't waste two hours of my life.
Here's another angle to this issue: the immature and those who can't be seen as not "in the know." Certainly, some of the pro-spoiler camp simply are patience-deficient. Not to mention, heavily conditioned by the idea of instant gratification.
But I suspect many of those who have this self-justified need to know all the twists and endings beforehand not only are too impatient for the actual watching of the show or reading of the story, but also have a peer insecurity of not already being aware of said twists and ends. From an early age we might be told educating ourselves is a supremely beneficial life practice, we are nevertheless repeatedly chastised and mocked when our ignorance is revealed in the innocent asking of the very question to end that ignorance.
I think some people develop a lifelong phobia about this and spoilers become a security blanket for those who ironically last out at others for being "spoiler babies."
Most of the reason I hate spoilers is that they interfere with the viewer/reader's ability to immerse themselves into story and characters. Instead of my mind thinking about either the situation unfolding or contemplating aspects of it, it's racing to figure out how the spoiler will fit into things. But another big factor is economics of both time and money. I just spent $12 for the ticket, that or more for the book or am about to devote dozens of hours to watching a show. Why the eff would I want to lessen the experience?
To this day I've never seen "Grey's Anatomy" because some idiot at the LA Times gave away a death. In a DVD review! I also have to avoid most trailers, since they are spoiler-fests these days giving away plot and the best lines. I was one of only a handful of people who laughed out loud at something in ABOUT A BOY and my companion thought it was odd I laughed at a joke in the trailer not knowing I had avoided it.
Also, in this day and age, the things assumed to be "common knowledge" needs to be reexamined. There's now a century of films and 60 years of television out there, chances that a 30 year old has seen CITIZEN KANE or SOPRANOS is slipping every year. I'm not saying you can't discuss them with an assumption that your audience has also seen them, but just take the easy precaution of a Spoiler Warning. It would have been nice to be a 20 year old watching KANE for the first time not already knowing the meaning of Rosebud.
You just ruined "College" for me! I hadn't been able to get around to that one yet! Haha! I'm sure that there will be plenty to enjoy in a Buster Keaton comedy besides the plot points.
I don't know about the data, but I do know about my own reactions when it comes to spoilers. If something is plot based, then I'd like to know as little as possible going in. And, as you said, the second viewing doesn't really add much for me. But if the movie is worth anything, the plot will be more like a platform for other things to happen on and that's where I usually enjoy a second viewing far more. A second viewing (or third, etc) means that I don't have to worry as much about the shape of the film or its tone; I don't have to wonder where it's going. I feel free to concentrate on where it is in each moment. I find myself able to process acting nuances, blocking, and other elements with more clarity than I do on a first viewing. And those things invariably interest me more than any shock effect I might find in a plot twist.
That said, I tend to avoid reading about a movie before I've seen it. I do want the opportunity to form my own opinion about it and have my own unvarnished reaction to it before I get to thinking about other perspectives.
And this loops back to the second viewing. By the time I see a movie a second time, I've read some reviews, gained some new ideas or approaches to the movie, and I can apply those things to the film now. This keeps things fresh.
Trust me. You'll have to see "College" in order to understand the reference!
(Caution: this reply is ACTUALLY a spoiler, so, if you have not seen "College" and you hate spoilers, skip this comment)
I must admit that I forgot that College ends with the death of the protagonists. It is because this "death" is actually an appendix which does not make part of the comedy plot (although it is part of a gag). So, in a certain sense, citing the "death of the protagonists in College" as an unusual ending for a comedy is half cheating.
Yes, my comment was tongue-in-cheek, but you must admit it's an unusual way to end a comedy.
Not to completely change the subject, but the Australian article you quote as saying "today's electric cars actually create more pollution and consume more energy than gas-powered vehicles" bases its claim on a study put out by the Low Carbon Vehicle Partnership.
Here's the 78-page study:
http://www.lowcvp.org.uk/assets/reports/RD11_124801_4%20-%20LowCVP%20-%20Life%20Cycle%20CO2%20Measure%20-%20Final%20Report.pdf
Here's the 3-page abstract:
http://www.lowcvp.org.uk/assets/pressreleases/LowCVP_Lifecycle_Study_June2011.pdf
The Australian article misquotes the LowCVP study several times. According to the study, electric cars DO NOT produce more pollution than gas-powered cars. They produce more pollution during production, but that's offset over the course of the vehicle's lifetime.
Every sentence in the first paragraph of the Australian article contains a mistake, misinformation, or draws an unsubstantiated conclusion that is NOT in the LowCVP study.
To wit:
"An electric car owner would have to drive at least 129,000km before producing a net saving in CO2."
No, the electric CAR would have to drive 129,000km (which is about 80,000 miles, i.e., nothing). It doesn't matter who gets the car over 129,000km - whether it's the original owner or the high schooler who buys it from him after 100,000km, or the high schooler's little sister who inherits the car at 150,000km - SOMEONE will get it there.
"Many electric cars will not travel that far in their lifetime because they typically have a range of less than 145km on a single charge and are unsuitable for long trips."
Who says electric cars will not travel that far in their lifetime? Not the LowCVP study. Is my 2001 Toyota Corolla going to magically fall apart on its 11th birthday, even though it only has 55,000 miles on it?
"Even those driven 160,000km would save only about a tonne of CO2 over their lifetimes."
Plain misquoted. According to the LowCVP abstract, gas vehicles produce 24 tonnes of CO2 in a 150,000km (not 160) lifetime, while electric vehicles AND plug-in hybrids produce only 19. That's 5 tonnes, not 1.
Sorry to go on a tangent, but I got mad.
I am a last chapter reader but Usual Suspects is one movie I wish I could watch for the first time, with no spoilers, over and over again. There is something to be said for the "No f'ing way" ending that makes you start over at the beginning to see what you missed. Sixth Sense would not have been as wonderful with spoilers. Movies that are about the journey (rom-coms for example) survive spoilers because you know the guy is going to get the girl. Movies that are amazing and unique suffer from spoilers because they are an experience you can never duplicate.
There is only one first kiss. There is only one first 'time'. They may both be clumsy, but they are the ones you never forget. The expectation and the surprise of the moment will never be the same again, even tho these moments much will be better, later.
And there are few enough surprises in life, at my age. I used to love reading reviews, but now rarely do. I'm more likely to read them after seeing the movie. (thanks for that option, Roger!)
These days, I don't want to know a thing about what I'm about to watch. Or at least as little as possible. But my wife is one of those who likes previews on TV. I swear she reads the last page of a book first. And because she's smart, and reads a lot of stories, she often knows what is happening next.
And was it in the 70's, when TV shows would show what happened next, just before they went to commercial? NUTS!
Not necessarily accusing you but I often find that people saying "Spoilers Don't Matter" are those that get early or privileged access to material, or at least are on the bleeding edge of consuming it. They rarely suffer their own view of the matter.
I just turned 51, and I suppose my love affair with movies started with, or around, the Star Wars trilogy. (Spoilers ahead, for those readers of Mr. Ebert's blog who have not seen three movies from three decades ago). Of course I was thrilled when Han Solo came back to join the rebel attack in A New Hope, but come on -- no one was surprised when the Death Star blew up. And any viewer paying attention should have foreseen Darth Vader's murder of the Emperor in The Return of the Jedi no later than the final credits of The Empire Strikes Back. As I began to watch older movies, I found that several had utterly predictable "surprises" that nevertheless packed satisfying dramatic punches. The last five minutes of Mister Roberts jumps to mind.
On the other hand, many great movies have unexpected plot points that created my main enjoyment in the movie. I was breathless when Marty McFly was pulled out of his car by Biff Tannen, rather than his father, in Back to the Future. I still remember Gene Siskel's review of the movie ("It fooled me and it delighted me in so doing"). Although I can never duplicate the emotion I felt the first time I saw those scenes, I still watch many of those movies repeatedly because they are well made and still enjoyable. Others I find not so enjoyable after multiple viewings, which leads me to believe they depended on their surprises or twists. I wouldn't put The Usual Suspects in this category, but apparently other commenters would. I would include The Sixth Sense.
So how important is it not to divulge spoilers? Very, I would say, because when watching a film for the first time, I don't know whether it's going to depend on some unforeseen artifice to amuse me for the time being, or is a good enough movie overall to entertain me for time eternal. Until I find out which, at least give me a time to earn a return on the investment I made in my ticket.
I think that study was totally useless. What good is a hedonic measure when talking about art? It's entirely possible that moment-by-moment I enjoyed the experience of watching Speed more than I enjoyed the experience of watching Vertigo, but that sure as hell doesn't mean that I liked Speed better, or that I'd rather have missed out on Vertigo if I had to choose. There are levels of enjoyment, and this kind of shallow measure doesn't capture all of them.
Maybe if you go into Psycho knowing its twists you'll feel less tense and have more fun, but will the movie have the same impact? I want a movie to burn itself into my brain more than I want it to just make me feel good, and surprise and suspense are useful tools for that.
Regarding your observation about Oedipus, I have to add that, technically, in its day everyone knew about the play's ending, because it's based on a myth: it was a foregone conclusion designed to make the irony even greater.
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