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Avengers: Endgame
May. 5th, 2019 09:49 pm(x-posted to tumblr, pillowfort)
I’m not mad at the movie per se; I’m mad about the narrative construct employed by pretty much any movie/show/insert-form-of-storytelling-here that the death of one or more main characters (especially The Grand Sacrifice For All Humanity) is the only option in a high-stakes situation––anything else, and the payoff is just not enough, somehow. There is no closure without death? That’s a pretty terrible position for storytellers to take.
This is so baked into our collective consciousness that no one stops to think about it and ask, “Well, but… do you mean there’s no other way to bring this story to a satisfying conclusion? Like, none? If no one dies, then the story isn’t satisfying?”
Everyone went into Endgame expecting at least one death of one of Our Heroes, if not more. We expected it because of this pervasive-yet-provably-unfounded narrative cliché, and I don’t think that’s how narrative creators should be approaching storytelling. I think it’s time for a radical change in how we conclude entertainments (re: provably unfounded--see final paragraph of post).
Honestly, from now on, if a storyteller says anything along the lines of “If none of the main characters die, there’s no emotional payoff,” I am going to stop engaging with that storyteller’s works immediately.
You know what would be a huge emotional payoff? Seeing the characters we love–-have loved for ten years-–fighting the good fight, and emerging victorious. Joy is a huge emotional payoff. But we seem unable to question this central tenet of our storytelling, and it leads a lot of writers to purposely write toward crappy endings.
I’m not saying narratives should never include the death of a major character. I love me a heroic sacrifice! But if every high-stakes story means Someone Has To Die, that means that we, both writers and audience, are unconsciously locked into this pattern and blinded to any others such that writers start writing with killing off beloved characters as the goal because now it's the rules, and it doesn’t have to be. The fact that we all “knew” that someone “had” to die, and we “knew” it for, if we’re being honest, even before Infinity War–-I think that’s bad for us. I really do think it’s bad for us.
If anyone ever says that a happily ever after ending in which all of the main characters live isn’t narratively or emotionally satisfying, they have likely absorbed that idea from society's disdain for romance novels and “chick flicks,” which as we know must be objectively terrible because women like them. So here’s what you do. Point that person at the nearest hard-ass, backwards-ballcap-wearing, swole Chicago Cubs fandude, and ask them about the 2016 World Series. Was it gratifying? Did our heroes fight the good fight and emerge victorious? Did everyone go ape-shit? Did we hold a parade? Was it a spectacular, emotion-filled conclusion to a hundred-year-long story?
DID ANYONE ON THE TEAM DIE?
NO?
Joy is a huge emotional payoff.
I’m not mad at the movie per se; I’m mad about the narrative construct employed by pretty much any movie/show/insert-form-of-storytelling-here that the death of one or more main characters (especially The Grand Sacrifice For All Humanity) is the only option in a high-stakes situation––anything else, and the payoff is just not enough, somehow. There is no closure without death? That’s a pretty terrible position for storytellers to take.
This is so baked into our collective consciousness that no one stops to think about it and ask, “Well, but… do you mean there’s no other way to bring this story to a satisfying conclusion? Like, none? If no one dies, then the story isn’t satisfying?”
Everyone went into Endgame expecting at least one death of one of Our Heroes, if not more. We expected it because of this pervasive-yet-provably-unfounded narrative cliché, and I don’t think that’s how narrative creators should be approaching storytelling. I think it’s time for a radical change in how we conclude entertainments (re: provably unfounded--see final paragraph of post).
Honestly, from now on, if a storyteller says anything along the lines of “If none of the main characters die, there’s no emotional payoff,” I am going to stop engaging with that storyteller’s works immediately.
You know what would be a huge emotional payoff? Seeing the characters we love–-have loved for ten years-–fighting the good fight, and emerging victorious. Joy is a huge emotional payoff. But we seem unable to question this central tenet of our storytelling, and it leads a lot of writers to purposely write toward crappy endings.
I’m not saying narratives should never include the death of a major character. I love me a heroic sacrifice! But if every high-stakes story means Someone Has To Die, that means that we, both writers and audience, are unconsciously locked into this pattern and blinded to any others such that writers start writing with killing off beloved characters as the goal because now it's the rules, and it doesn’t have to be. The fact that we all “knew” that someone “had” to die, and we “knew” it for, if we’re being honest, even before Infinity War–-I think that’s bad for us. I really do think it’s bad for us.
If anyone ever says that a happily ever after ending in which all of the main characters live isn’t narratively or emotionally satisfying, they have likely absorbed that idea from society's disdain for romance novels and “chick flicks,” which as we know must be objectively terrible because women like them. So here’s what you do. Point that person at the nearest hard-ass, backwards-ballcap-wearing, swole Chicago Cubs fandude, and ask them about the 2016 World Series. Was it gratifying? Did our heroes fight the good fight and emerge victorious? Did everyone go ape-shit? Did we hold a parade? Was it a spectacular, emotion-filled conclusion to a hundred-year-long story?
DID ANYONE ON THE TEAM DIE?
NO?
Joy is a huge emotional payoff.
