It’s his sled. It was his sled from when he was a kid. There, I just saved you two long boobless hours.
– Peter Griffin, spoiling Citizen Kane
Saw Gone Girl last weekend. It’s really good, particularly if you like the kind of movie that takes place in an air of dread that’s perfectly summoned by David Fincher (with able assists from Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross). I say that even knowing the big twist of the film going into it. Not because I had read the book on which it’s based, but because my wife blurted it out during a TV commercial. She didn’t know I wanted to see it.
Point is, she didn’t really “spoil” the movie for me, in the true sense of the word. That’s because the flick is good enough that it doesn’t rise or fall on the big “twist” (which, for what it’s worth, happens about halfway through – this isn’t The Sixth Sense we’re talking about). In my opinion, any movie/book/TV show that rises and falls on that twist isn’t really worth watching.
What’s more, people seem to enjoy things more once they know how it turns out. At least that’s what some research says.
Back in 2011, as The Atlantic reports, a study was published that sounds pretty neat:
Scientists asked 900 college students from the University of California, San Diego, to read mysteries and other short stories by writers like John Updike, Roald Dahl, Agatha Christie, and Raymond Carver. Each student got three stories, some with “spoiler paragraphs” revealing the twist, and some without any spoilers. Finally, the students rated their stories on a 10-point scale.
The results? Readers preferred the spoiled stories. But why would we want to know how it ends ahead of time?
One theory is that our anticipation of surprises actually takes away from our appreciation for the 99 percent of the movie that isn’t a monster twist. ‘The second viewing is always more satisfying than the first,’ Sternbergh said, ‘because you notice all the things you missed while you were busy waiting for the twist.’ Psychologists have observed that when we consume movies and songs for a second (or third, or hundredth time), the stories become easier to process, and we associate this ease of processing with aesthetic pleasure.
Think about this for a second. Most of us have some piece of culture that we go back to again and again. I know that the big escape at the end of Brazil takes place all inside Sam’s head, but I still watch it. I know that Arthur and Ford wind up on a primitive Earth populated by a bunch of idiots expelled from a better planet, but I’ll still consume Hitchhiker’s Guide . . . again (in its many forms). And I know Tommy goes back to being blind, deaf, and dumb at the end, but that doesn’t make “Pinball Wizard” kick any less ass.
Of course, there might be other reasons why spoilers really aren’t, including the uncomfortable recognition that we really like predictability more than we let on. But, in this area at least, I’d like to not be completely cynical and think that, deep down, we realize that works built on the big twist only are, as someone else put it in the Atlantic piece:
like artistic flash paper: It excites for a moment but offers little lasting wonder.
After all, we want to be better than Peter Griffin. Right?
Note: This piece was originally posted on my old blog on October 20, 2014.
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