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Post by allegra on Nov 20, 2013 6:14:15 GMT
Alright, let me face this with science. There are several very "human" reasons people like to watch tragedies, one of which involves humans being a very social species. Sympathy is something that we want to feel naturally and so feeling sympathy during tragedies allows us to feel without being directly involved. Secondly, if a person cries during the entertainment, crying releases hormones in the body that increase serotonin production as well as excrete harmful chemicals that make people feel sad in the tears. So there. Human beings, man.
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Post by elizabethmeyer on Nov 20, 2013 6:14:45 GMT
My first response to this (other than "no, not the Titanic!" - I'm with Lacey on this; I don't plan on watching that one) was "Why do we enjoy watching violence?" At first, I related the notion of humans enjoying watching tragedies to the notion of humans enjoying to watch violence. Tragedy and violence generally come together. So many movies, plays and of course video games are centered on violence, and people enjoy that for some reason. But then I realized something: even with violence involved in a story, the good generally win over the evil. With tragedy, however, the evil is usually the winner, and that's why it's all so tragic. I think people like watching tragedies because they are the opposite of "happily ever after". People like to see the darker side of things, particularly in this day and age, and tragedies show that darker side. The world isn't all roses and bunnies, and while many of us would rather escape reality and go to the happy-place of "happily ever after", many people also like to see that darker side of the world revealed. I'm just not sure whether people like to see that darker side so that the lighter side seems even better, or if they just like to witness the dark side of the force.
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Post by mitralebuhn on Nov 20, 2013 6:29:17 GMT
I was actually thinking about this today…woo hoooo what a coincidence! Okay, my thinking is that we do this because of our curiosity. I don't know about you guys, but to be honest, I've always had a sick desire to get stuck in a disaster, like the titanic. Now, realistically I don't wish a disaster on myself or anyone else, but I think the reason I contemplate it is because I wonder how I would handle myself in that situation and what it'd really be like to experience something terrible, not just watch it. Watching or reading a tragedy makes us contemplative, wondering what it means, what is truly important in life, etc. It drives us to the point of resolution where you "learn from you experience," except when you are viewing the tragedy you don't actually have to experience the horror in order to learn from it, you just observe and develop. I think this is valuable, and it's great that we can use stories and history in order to grow as readers and grow as a society, and we like the growth we gain from watching tragedies and that's why we repetitively view them. But, by watching horrors over and over again we grow a little desensitized to the events and they become a little too normal and acceptable for my comfort, and I think they be a contributing factor to the number of man-caused horrors that occur today (school shootings, terrorist attacks, pyro-activity) because we don't feel the true emotions of being involved in the event, the only emotions we feel are in response to the characters emotions. We should be careful of the literary tragedies we perceive and stay in check with how we respond to them, because our responses may have a lasting effect not the world.
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Post by avinash on Nov 20, 2013 6:32:25 GMT
Most people are never going to be on a sinking ship like in The Titanic. For that reason we can keep a safe distance from the occurrences in the movie. This allows the viewer to feel strong attachment to the movie’s plot and characters while not being directly affected by what is going on. I make the assumption that one feels attachment to the movie’s characters because most movies and books, especially tragedies, are programmed to form a rapport with the reader. This is why the narrator’s persona in A Wild Sheep Chase was foreign to many…it was difficult to relate to such an unremarkable character.
I think it is human nature to feel solace in someone else’s misfortune. Putting it that way makes it seem sadistic, so let me phrase it differently. It is human nature to feel comfort in knowing that other people from different walks of life have struggles much greater than or comparable to challenges faced by you. Living in the unrealistic is appealing. Tragic movies provide scenarios that aren’t found in everyday life which leads to the evocation of foreign emotions that we don’t often feel. They provide a getaway for the viewer. This seems peculiar because this getaway is tragic. It’s just that this tragedy doesn’t directly impact the viewer so in a way the tragedy is removed from the situation. One of the characteristics that I perceive in tragedy is irreversibility. Irreversibility isn’t present in most tragic literary works. Sure there are some that may stick with the viewer/reader, but I would argue that The Titanic isn’t one of these works. And that is why we keep watching The Titanic sink…it isn’t really a tragedy. This also implies that there isn't a huge drop off between viewings because the movie doesn't leave an indelible mark, you can still enjoy the movie a second or third time without losing emotional connection to the story.
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Post by emwolfram on Nov 20, 2013 6:46:43 GMT
We all want to feel things. Strangely enough we don't mind when these things are bad as long as they are within our control. We can watch the tragedy of the Titanic from the safety of the coach in our significant other's living-room, and we can feel the melancholy power of tragedy without having it ruin our lives. Nor do we need to deal with this tragedy once the screen goes dark. People are drawn to tragedy because it is a seductive type of sadness, one that makes us feel complex and raw. It is not so much that we enjoy tragedy but rather are pulled towards it by a magnetic fascination. The emotions we feel from experiencing and witnessing tragedy are a fundamental part of what makes us human and that can be a powerful thing for us to grasp.
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Post by gracepark on Nov 20, 2013 6:49:56 GMT
I was just talking this over with my mom, using the Titanic as an example. But contrary to my expectations of a long thought-provoking discussion, she just stared and asked nonchalantly: “Well why did YOU watch Les Mis three times?”
It’s true. I’ve only watched the Titanic once. But I’ve watched Les Miserables three times. In theaters. Maybe it was Anne Hathaway’s heartbreaking solo “I dreamed a dream” that kept reeling me in. Or maybe it was Marius’s beautiful face singing “Empty chairs and empty tables.” I don’t know. But looking back now, I think it all points back to the significance of history. Both the Titanic and Les Miserables are based on a tragic moment in history where thousands of lives were taken. By manifesting this time period on the big screen, we’re all forced to remember that time and the millions of individual stories associated with that single event. And as we connect our present life with the past reality portrayed in the tragedy, a personal moment of revelation and hope for the future blooms. And in turn, we create a special attachment to that special piece of art. But as human nature goes, this whole heartbreaking yet significant revelation with the inevitable addition of teary red eyes is simply – and tragically – no different than a fleeting moment. Within a number of days or even hours, we all resort back to our default mode and forget that split second where we were genuinely touched by the impact of a tragic masterpiece. I guess that’s the biggest tragedy of all.
But to answer the question, I think what constantly reels us back to these tragic pieces like the Titanic and Les Miserables is this constantly needed reminder about our position in our present lives in the scope of history. Like I mentioned before humans are obsessed with this illusion of eternity. But when we’re faced with this raw depiction of death and the reality of our illusion, it becomes a humbling and, dare I say, tragic moment for us all.
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joelk
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Post by joelk on Nov 20, 2013 6:54:06 GMT
I believe, as a few have already mentioned, that we watch tragedy because it makes us feel “good.” While Matt may have discussed the dichotomy between tragedy and comedy, and our effort to seek out both, I don’t think we seek out tragedy because we crave feeling sad. Take that statement out of the context of literary tragedy—would you crave reliving the moment when you heard about a loved one’s unexpected death?
I think we only seek out what makes us feel good, which I think literary tragedy does. Sure, it might elicit a reaction of sorrow, thus meeting my definition of tragedy from the previous thread, but the literary tragedy isn’t real. We would not “pay perfectly good money” to watch the tapes of the Boston Marathon news reports again and again, because this tragedy is real.
But wait a minute. The Titanic is/was real. That’s true, so that means there must be some other aspect of literary tragedy at play, not just the fictitious-ness of the events. Let’s redefine “real” as “not a story.” Life, told with a narrative structure, is a story. Life is real. But life, when taken event by event, is pretty much devoid of story, and thus “not real.” The Boston Marathon bombings may have a story, but the reporting and video footage does not. It’s an event ripped out of its story and presented alone.
Which means that, as Corey touched upon, the pull of the story must be the answer. There must be something about a story that makes us feel good after feeling sad.
Corey mentions that he thinks it lets us feel emotions in a safe environment, but to add to that, I think it is because if stories are like life, stories leave us with the same hope we have in life. After all, we are able to recover emotionally from a tragedy. Life would be miserable if after experiencing one tragedy we spent the rest of our lives forever sorrowful without any points of happiness or hope. Meanwhile, non-literary tragedy is taken out of the story. The raw videos of the Boston Marathon bombings are taken out of their story. They are terribly sad and not something anyone wants to rewatch. Similarly, I’d imagine that, if the technology had existed, the cell phone videos from the deck of the sinking Titanic would be purely sorrowful. It’s only when tragedy is placed in a story can we recover from it, whether in the story of our own lives or the story of literature.
I’d like to say that there is an educational “value” to literary tragedy, but I don’t think that literary tragedy is any more educational than any other story of literature giving us historical perspective or life lessons. Rather, I think the value of literary tragedy is that it makes us feel good by first making us feel bad, however basic and self-serving that may seem. The format of the story gives us a tragedy to recover from, and it is this recovery that creates the good feeling. The same series occurs in real life—finally recovering from a personal tragedy feels terrific, if only because of the absence of sorrow and opportunity for happiness now available. The value is simply that literature’s tragic stories speed up the process, getting us quickly through the tragedy to the feel-good recovery.
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Post by naomiporter on Nov 20, 2013 7:42:12 GMT
I was just recently thinking about this idea when I clicked the link of yet another tragic story in the internet. I knew from the title what it was about and that it would be depressing and tragic. What made me want to read it not in spite of, but because of its tragic nature? I honestly do not know, but I have a few ideas. Possibly it is that we enjoy putting ourselves in a position where we know we can experience an emotional response to something, but then come away without the full effects that we would have if it happened in real life to us or our friends. (I suppose this is referring especially to a fictional example like the Titanic than to my own example.) We are still forced to consider topics like our own mortality and the existence of suffering in the world, but when we leave, we can come back to the real world without the suffering the effects of experiencing a tragedy like it first hand. I still cannot understand in the least why I would be drawn to the depressing topic in the first place, but I do think that the element of being able to walk away from it minimally affected plays a big role. A more appealing theory is that we simply want to empathize with other people and better understand the human condition. As appealing as it is, this theory does not quite ring true to me, so I am left unsure of what causes this drive in me.
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Post by samwerner on Nov 20, 2013 7:55:24 GMT
I just have way too much money and so I occasionally spend some of it on tragic movies when my garage gets too full of foreign cars and I get tired of taking my jet to one of my thirteen estates worldwide. In all seriousness, tragedies are appealing because they hit home without anyone actually having to experience the emotions fabricated by the work. There is a certain emotional roller coaster caused by tragedies that the majority of us have been fortunate enough not to have experienced in our real lives. However, the emotions involved in this roller coaster are thrilling to experience, and in some ways can help one feel complete. Each type of micro-emotion that every decision we make and experience we feel creates becomes a part of our self (ugh, self again), and even the lowest, darkest emotions may be critical. This doesn't mean, however, that tragedies are only enjoyed by those who haven't experienced real tragedy and simply need to fill a whole in their wheel of emotions. Tragedies are a way for humans to be reminded of all they take for granted. They are a risk-free wake up call from the made-up movie world that alert us repeatedly without personal cost. That is why we may watch the same movie over and over, because we feel some of the same emotions, are allowed a moment of reflection on all we value in life, and are not directly affected by the tragedy itself.
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Post by chrisb on Nov 20, 2013 8:03:13 GMT
I’ll address the topic of literary tragedy by bringing up perhaps the worst example of tragedy: the movie “Click.” Headed by an all-star cast of Adam Sandler, Christopher Walken, and David Hasselhoff, the movie is pretty terrible. It has ratings of 6.4 out of 10 on IMDb and 32% on Rotten Tomatoes. The mixture of raunchy Sandler-esque humor and sappy sentimental messages makes for a mediocre cinematic experience. While the movie is not strictly a tragedy, it comes close to entering the category. If you take out the overdone “I woke up and realized it was all a dream” ending, the movie ends with the main character passing away, having pushed away his family for most of his life. And as terrible as the movie may be, the climax never fails to remind me of the power of tragedy. As Adam Sandler breathes his final breaths, his lackluster dramatic acting complemented by the exaggerated effects of pouring rain and sad music, my eyes typically begin to well up. Oddly enough, this is one of two movies (the other being “Toy Story 3”) to have brought tears to my eyes.
With a little analysis, my reaction to the movie “Click” is quite educational. Although I realize how overly-sappy and exaggerated the aspects of tragedy are in the movie, I don’t complain while I’m watching it. In fact, it is this exaggeration that brings me to tears in the first place. It is human nature to search for variation and stimulation. Most people spend time searching for thrill, laughs, and tears; although each reaction is different, any deviation from our normal state is an attractive change. And regardless of the direction that we choose to pursue, we want to go all out, so to speak. If I want to feel happy, I’d rather read a story that ends with “happily ever after” than a story that ends with “happily ever after, with some exceptions of sadness.” Thus, in the realm of tragedy, exaggeration is our friend. The writers of “Click,” “Marley and Me,” or even “Romeo and Juliet” may be pulling our strings, but we’re not looking for a half-measure. Full-on tragedy brings full-on pleasure, as counter-intuitive as that may sound.
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Post by shannonfender on Nov 20, 2013 8:26:45 GMT
Tragic works contribute to our need of wholeness. Every once in awhile, I enjoy a movie, book, or play that is guaranteed to make me feel miserable (Les Mis is always a good go-to...I mean Victor Hugo explicitly put "miserable" in the title, so you know exactly what you're getting into). That being said, very rarely does a movie leave the viewer in complete and utter hopelessness. More often than not, there is an uplifting little morale-booster in the ending that leaves the viewer/reader feeling sad, yet inexplicably happy. Thus, I can explain our appeal to tragedy in two ways...
1. We like/need to feel sad sometimes. Perhaps this is just me, but the way I judge whether a tragedy is successful or not is how much I cried. If I leave a movie theater after watching a sad film and haven't sufficiently cried, I'm wondering what on earth is wrong with me. It's an opportunity lost, as far as I'm concerned, and I'm kicking myself for my lack of empathy. However, there is one aspect to this that creates a safety net to this sadness...Since we are not directly effected by what happens in the tragedy, there is a level of separation that allows us to feel the character's sadness without actually having to feel the character's sadness. It's like having your cake and eating it too: you get the emotion without the grim circumstances that usually come hand in hand.
2. We feel happier after watching/reading a tragedy. I wouldn't go as far to say that tragedies reveal how swell and well-off our lives are by contrast, but I would say that the little uplifting part at the end of a movie shows how great humanity can be and also creates a higher meaning that supersedes the tragedy in the grand spectrum of things. If we can be convinced that a tragic event has a positive net effect in some way or another, we see the good and purpose to life despite the possibility of feeling helpless for awhile.
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amychen
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“But the wild things cried, “Oh please don’t go—we’ll eat you up—we love you so!”
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Post by amychen on Nov 20, 2013 8:32:44 GMT
I dance with the notion that we enjoy tragedy because it helps us feel alive, as Gary stated and many others have indirectly stated through their fascination with tragedy, because the same ideas apply to most other works. Superhero movies also make me feel alive and fascinate me with their alternate realities—don’t tell me you didn’t jump around your room after you watched Spiderman or that you don’t feel like a badass walking out of the darkness after an action movie ends. So do comedies, dramas, mysteries, and so on.
What makes tragedy unique has already been touched upon by Betsy and Hannah L. “Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery,” and with most works, I find myself trying to imitate the protagonists I love the most. I try to imitate Sherlock Holmes’ incredible attention to detail, Batman’s bravery, and [insert nearly any character here]’s perseverance. With tragedy, however, we don’t imitate our characters. Instead, we try to fix mistakes. As Betsy stated, when she rewatches Titanic, each time she watches with the hope that, this time, maybe it won’t sink. There is a value in trying to fix the past—it solidifies our understanding of how to deal with the present. This leads to more conscientious living. As Hannah puts it,
In a sense, tragedies are lessons. We revisit them to remind ourselves about what can go wrong in life, but also to remind ourselves that we can prevent these tragedies in the future.
After last year’s tragedy at Sandy Hook and the subsequent focus of the news on school shootings, I started to try to imagine the tragedy from the perspective of the victims of shootings—to try to find a way out. I’ve imagined trying to calm down the shooter, trying to comfort a peer with a gunshot wound, and trying to somehow get the weapon away from the shooter. From constantly reviving the tragedy—in a sense, re-watching the Titanic sink—I’ve tried to learn from the past. Although reviving the tragedy isn’t an enjoyable experience, it is a valuable one. As others have stated, most of us will not go through a tragedy as severe as a shooting or the Titanic—the worst case scenarios. Tragedies, however, help us prepare for these incidents in the off-chance that they happen, whether preparing means finding a fix to a fate or simply becoming more involved in our own lives.
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Post by robertxu on Nov 20, 2013 9:06:59 GMT
I could go on and on about movies that make me in the words of Rich Homie Quan, "feel some type of way", however, to save myself some public embarrassment I'm going to stick with the example of "The Titanic". We like tragedies because they allow us to indulge in a heightened sense of reality for a short period of time. In other words, tragedies are drugs without the physical side effects. Tragedies can be emotional roller coasters, and just like a roller coaster there can't be "highs" without the "lows". I'm not the first to draw a metaphor between heightened senses of realities and drugs, just ask postmodern philosophers like Jean Baudrillard. Relationships like Jack and Rose's play on many people's unrealistic expectations of a relationship. The fact that we know that Jack dies and they don't end up together makes their romance that much more intense. To be blunt, no one wants to see Jack and Rose grow old together and fall into a monotonous relationship. The one exception would be movies (purposefully left ambiguous) that ironically explore the tragedy of an intense relationship shifting into monotony. The natural state of the modern day individual is one characterized by the daily grind. To escape reality, individuals pay perfectly good money to see Rose and Jack have a fantastic relationship for a short period of time and then tragically separate. The contrast created by the intense romance and the tragedy of death/separation overloads our emotions and senses and basically "clears our heads". That is why watching "The Titanic" and reliving both the excitement and pain is probably a great way to forget about the math test tomorrow or the 42 you got on your chemistry project.
I would have to dance with Avinash's idea that we watch and read tragedies to make ourselves feel better about our own lives. I would even argue that we secretly wish we could be Rose or Jack and sacrifice it all for a short period of pleasure. However for most people that is when the rational side of our brain kicks in and says "maybe it isn't such a good idea". So I guess we have to be content with vicariously living through not only the excitement of Jack and Rose, but also the tragedy.
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Post by amysohlberg on Nov 20, 2013 14:27:46 GMT
On a superficial level, I completely agree with Lacey: we like to go to emotional extremes. I know that when I'm stressed out or sad, it's really tempting to completely break down and just sob for several minutes and lament my fate. It feels good to feel sad sometimes, and I think we are tragedies excite our emotions to levels where they don't usually stray in our daily lives. It's interesting to see how far your emotions will stretch.
At the same time, I doubt that this is the only reason we watch The Titanic over and over again. I think we like to watch/read tragedies because it helps us to figure out what's important. Whenever I watch The Titanic, I ask myself, "What would I be doing if I knew I only had a few minutes left to live?" Tragedies force us to consider the things that make life worth living, and you can usually only appreciate them after you see them taken away. For example, after the car crash on friday night, I've been trying to show my friends how much I love them because I can't stop thinking, "What if it had been ____? Or ______?" Tragic movies and books have a similar, if not less intense effect. They force us to consider what are own lives would be like if it happened to us.
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Post by patricktbutenhoff on Nov 20, 2013 14:40:06 GMT
Literary tragedy doesn't need to have a surprise element to have an effect on our emotions, and what we pay for when we go to see Titanic (though I personally haven't seen it) is that emotional thrill ride. I've listened to songs that had the same effect on me: they made me want to cry, but I couldn't stop listening to them. Humans naturally seek emotion; few people want to be the apathetic narrator of A Wild Sheep Chase. Emotions are part of human nature, and having our emotions toyed with is part of that human experience. And maybe, when we watch Romeo die in Act V, Scene 3, we're reassured that we're not the only ones who are suffering in the world. Edgar Allen Poe wrote that the greatest form of beauty is sadness, which is why The Raven is such a depressing poem. Why is sad beautiful? Perhaps it's because it's analogous to our own lives. Everyone has small tragedies in their own lives: dreams that never come to fruition, lost lovers, one-time chances that were never taken. The reason we are so drawn to literary tragedy is because we see ourselves reflected in the characters. We don't need to be ignorant about what happens at the end of Titanic; as long as it continues to have the same emotional impact, it will still have those characteristics that draw us to it time and time again.
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