[…] Fear and pity may be aroused by spectacular means; but they may also result from the inner structure of the piece, which is the better way, and indicates a superior poet. For the plot ought to be so constructed that, even without the aid of the eye, he who hears the tale told will thrill with horror and melt to pity at what takes Place. This is the impression we should receive from hearing the story of the Oedipus. But to produce this effect by the mere spectacle is a less artistic method, and dependent on extraneous aids. Those who employ spectacular means to create a …read more […]

The linkage of pity and fear in Greek tragedy is a central concept of "The Poetics". And I think that the linkage of pity and fear is no less central to any theory, and scheme of screenwriting today. Aristotle had a lot more to say about pity and fear in his "Rhetoric". In the 2nd book of the "Rhetoric", he defines fear as "a pain or disturbance due to imagining destructive or painful evil in the future" . He defines pity as " a feeling of pain at an apparent evil, destructive or painful, which befalls one who does not deserve it , and which might expect to befall ourselves or some friend of ours, and morever to befall us soon." Isn't that what a good plot does? It makes us fear about the future -- worry -- about what may happen to the characters. And it makes us pity the protagonist (and other characters) because they don't deserve their adversity, their misfortune. The astronauts in "Gravity" do not deserve to be cast adrift in space because of an accident. So we pity their predicament, their suffering, their struggle to survive. And we have every reason to fear they are all doomed to die. (The movie doesn't rely on its amazing eye candy.) Katniss Everdeen doesn't deserve to be forced to offer up her life in place of her sister, doesn't deserve the charade she must play, doesn't deserve all the suffering and threats to her life deliberately hurled at her by a ruling elite as capricious, arrogant and callous as the Greek gods on Mt. Olympus. But -- spolier alert!-- those of us who have read the trilogy know how Everdeen's fate will play out. So maybe we don't fear so much. So why we are captivated by the character and her struggle? I reiterate last week's quote from the Greek scholar Daniel Mendelsohn:"For the Greeks the allure of so many tragic heroes is… the heroes’ strength, their grandeur, their power, the attributes of intellect and valor that they must resort to in their staged struggles with a hostile fate." Ditto in spades for Katniss Everdeen. We pity her predicament, we admire her for the courage, resourcefulness she musters to not merely survive but prevail. And we admire her all the more because her character, her arete, not only survives but thrives: she never loses her gratitude for favors large and small, never loses her compassion for others, never lets success and fame go to her head. (And adding archetypal resonance to her character is the fact that Katniss is a modern day dramatic incarnation of Artemis, Greek goddess of the hunt.)

Love these examples, pgronk, and I think they also help explain why we (as well as the ancients) are willing to watch/read these stories again and again - while they may offer spectacle, we are most intrigued by the characters themselves; the character development is far more important than spectacle alone, if the stories are to remain relevant. . .

Although we can't know for sure that Aristotle was the first to complain about the lack of artfulness in pure spectacle, we can take strange comfort in knowing that this lament is not peculiar to our time alone. It has been around for at least 2300 years. Sadly, though, since he freely admits it is indeed possible to arouse pity and fear through spectacle, it would have been helpful if he had articulated exactly why it is better to do so through unadorned narrative. Maybe that's part of why we find ourselves expressing the same lament today. Faced with the human reality that audiences love to soak up the cheap thrills in large numbers, we could use some cogent arguments to support the value of art for art's sake. The best he seems able to say is that creating emotional impact through the narrative is "the better way" and doing so through spectacle is "the less artistic method," both statements that are self-evident to those who agree and meaningless to those who are invested in sensational impact. It is amusing, though, to see him cut spectacle down to size with the rather dismissive reference to it as "only the monstrous." However, there is an interesting point to unpack in that last sentence, "And since the pleasure which the poet should afford is that which comes from pity and fear through imitation, it is evident that this quality must be impressed upon the incidents." Again, the Richard Janko translation is helpful. By "imitation" Aristotle means the fact that we are watching the terrifying events happen to someone else in a fictionalized account, as opposed to experiencing them ourselves. In other words, the pleasure is in knowing that we are not experiencing it ourselves, but are watching a representation of others' suffering. When the representation ends, our feelings of fear will cease. This is why the feelings must be evoked by the incidents rather than spectacle, so that we can more easily relate it to our own lives. But this argument won't help us convince those holding purse strings today to feed us a more balanced diet where art vs. spectacle is concerned.

Indeed. Great examples that help the concepts come to life. Is it fear and pity at work in The Usual Suspects?

Good question. I wouldn't go so far as to say pity and fear are applicable for all film stories in all genres. Aristotle was only applying it to the one serious genre of his day -- tragedy. I'm guessing they can apply to a wider range of genres, that they are still relevant. In films where the protagonist (and allies) are on the wrong side of the law, a standard technique to generate sympathy (aka: pity) is that they are doing what they must to survive in a world where they are forced to play with a stacked deck. The rules, the system, the odds are never to be in their favor. We can pity them because they don't deserve that kind of world, to be forced to make those kind of choices -- even as we might disapprove of those choices. [Exhibit A: How Michael Corleone is drawn into the family business in "The Godfather". Exhibit B: How Vito Corleone is drawn into a life of crime in "The Godfather: Part II".] And such is the case in "Usual Suspects". Keyser Söze may be ruthless -- but the story gives him a darn good reason to be that way: his wife and children who surely did not deserve to be murdered. And the other characters are up against crooked cops. And when they try to go straight, such as is the case with the Dean Keaton character, their past unfairly comes back to haunt them and deprive them of love and a normal life. Once the characters have our sympathy, mas o menos, (in the wider sense of Aristotle's concept of pity) than we can invest emotionally in their struggle so as to worry (in the wider sense of Aristotle's concept of fear) about their fate. Can we emotionally invest in characters such that we fear for their future if we do not in any way pity -- empathize or sympathize with them? What about Walter White? Does Aristotle's dual concept of fear and pity work for "Breaking Bad"? And if so, why? And if not, then why the strong ratings and rave reviews? What hooked the audience's interest and kept it hooked?

Thanks for the thoughtful, and thought provoking, response to the question. The more I think about it, the more I'm convinced that the best stories out there defy any prescription. None apply. Aristotle did say his observations were descriptive of *most* drama he witnessed, but not all. What happens with both Soze and White seem to me more in line with the De Casibus theory of tragedy applied to common people. I was taught that Shakespeare used the De Casibus model of tragedy exclusively. I was also taught of specifically American forms of storytelling that seem to be disappearing -- the "little soul" the "shaggy dog story" the "frame" and a few others I can't remember :-) I'll be watching the release of Walter Mitty to see if they destroy the essence of that story, it's American roots, when it's squeezed into some contemporary theory of screenwriting. To those of us in love with literature, it would be the equivalent of destroying jazz. BTW, the little soul is alive and well on the TV show Bones in the character of Cam. First time I can remember seeing it applied to a female, so three cheers for progress :-) Wait! I remembered one coupling! The alizon and the iyron (both misspelled horribly because it's been that long and they've been dying for even longer).

Cyd, I think you're right: I think some of the best stories DO defy any prescription. I screened 2001: A Space Odyssey again this week for a class I'm teaching and it breaks all sorts of supposed rules including most notably 88 minutes without any dialogue, 4 act structure, a Protagonist (Dave) who doesn't appear until just under halfway through the movie, and so on. And yet it is a spectacular film. I get why screenwriting 'gurus' sell formulas and aspiring writers buy formulas -- because they desperately want to squeeze the mystery out of the story-crafting process. But embracing a story's mysteries is precisely how writers discover what makes a story great. Studying Aristotle is great for several reasons, one of which is to help us see some macro dynamics that basically CAN work with many stories. However no story IMHO should be constrained by those dynamics. If the dynamic engenders the quality and entertainment value of the story, great. If not, lose them and follow the story. As I have written elsewhere... the story rules.