Evidence is building that fiction can build empathy and give people the tools to be kinder and more understanding. By connecting with characters, we can become better able to connect with each other.
My two previous posts inevitably led me to exploring this further, so I’ll provide a list that follows their pattern of analysis:
Novels as research has shown, get you into the head of another person. You are connecting with what another person cares about, how they think, how they suffer, how they are moved, and their world views. It is a connection between the reader and the character that can be intimate, immediate, and surprising. Characters lead us to conclude that other people think like us (theory of mind)… and that they may think very differently from us.
In addition, because of the storytelling of a novel, the thoughts and feelings come within a context. With a good story, we are worried about the character and partner with them in pursuit of a goal. We can reflect on what characters do and what goes on in their heads in relation to a narrative that may parallel narratives in our own lives. We get more than data and facts. We get experience endowed with meaning.
One more thing: When we read a novel we become co-creators. We have skin in the game, and every image, every sound, and every gesture is personalized by our imaginations.
What novels have trouble with is presenting both sides of the story. Even something as simple as alternating chapters between the hero and the heroine in a love story runs into the problem of loss of intimacy. Our brains need to switch perspectives, breaking connections. This is most obvious when authors dare to switch points of view within scenes. Such “head hopping” is a sure way to distance readers and destroy intimacy.
Theater works relationships from the outside. We become witnesses, and it’s often the case that, even if we takes sides in a conflict, we see both points of view. The interaction emulates the action and dialogue of real life, so we can be comfortable in being drawn into wooing, arguments, caresses, and fistfights. They happen right in front of us, and it can feel as authentic as overheard conversations and street brawls.
Theater can also shift to scenes to feature different characters. When these are done elegantly, it’s less abrupt than transitions in novels because the work of shifting gears is done by the actors (and the direction). And, of course, it’s less of a challenge to be a witness than it is to be a co-creator who has all the responsibilities of the reader of a novel.
There is even the opportunity for deliberation that parallels that in novels. Asides and full-fledge monologues can allow characters to share their most intimate thoughts. I’m not sure it reaches the level of intimacy of reading the thoughts of a character in a novel. But a good actor can make it feel as genuine and affecting as a heart-to-heart with a close friend or a lover.
A note on the actors craft. The best actors inhabit the characters with immediacy, intonation, body language, pacing, and action. That in itself is compelling. But they also add listening. Obviously, they pay attention to all that their fellow actors offer, but they also are present to audiences. Can art be intimate and communal at the same time? I think so. In a theater, you can feel as if the play is being performed just for you at the same time as you are aware of and responding to the audience around you. This s most obvious with humor, but it can also be just as powerful during the most delicate and personal moments of a scene in a drama.
TV does not put real people in front of you. A phone call requires more of us in terms of presence. But, like theater, it allows us to witness dialogue, action and (more limited) body language. It also can slice time, change perspective, and give us locales that are impossible for theater. What it gives us more powerfully than any other medium is faces. Close-ups were invented in film, but TV allows us to see human expressions as clearly and directly as we do when we talk with friends. It’s why, despite the many disadvantages TV has compared to novels and theater, Paddy Chayefsky’s Marty is such an amazing work of art. TV may not have the co-creation of a novel or the presence of theater, but it allows a level of realism no other medium can match.
As with theater, this can mean both sides of a relationship can be treated fairly. We can get to know and struggle with all the characters in The Wire, and experience their personal justifications for choice that reveal their values in a compressed way, without it feeling artificial.
Film has close-ups, of course, but they are huge and nothing like people across the dinner table. But, like theater, we can see bodies in relation to each other. The nonverbal communication that can touch us so deeply is available on the screen. Though there’s an artificiality to our being small by comparison, we are, in a way, forced the the size of the images and the intensity of the sound to be present. Not it the same way as theater, but in a valid, involving way.
There is another aspect to witnessing relationships in film. It is, perhaps, the best medium for irony. See anything by Hitchcock. See especially silent film comedies. What is going on around key characters, including things they don’t notice can be obvious to us. While irony can be used in any medium, film makes it easiest to present the protagonist’s view and the larger, more objective view simultaneously.
For both TV and film, voice-over and monologues can be put to use, but it’s rare that these are as engaging as reflection in a novel or the equivalents in theater.
Fiction podcasts encourage co-creation. Arguably, they have the potential to reach nearly the same levels of building empathy and giving people the tools to be kinder and more understanding as novels. We have a lot of skin in the game. This is especially true in longer stories in which people can become immersed. A forty-minute episode might not compare to a novel, but binge-listening to a fiction podcast series, investing in imagining the world and its characters, can provide a powerful, intimate experience.
Good voice acting, sound design, and music can direct and prompt our imaginations in ways that are unique to this medium. So there is an odd hybrid of limited intimacy (without much reflection) with witnessing (with nothing to see).
Poems are wonderful at providing insights and experiences, but has a difficult time with presenting relationships. However, poems provide powerful triggers that can recall and recast our own experiences. I think this is how stories about relationships in songs have the kind of impact they do. They provide enchanting cues that reveal our lives and what we’ve learned.
Understanding the strengths and weaknesses of each form of storytelling broadens your choices as author. But what about moving from one form to another? Adaptation can be a disaster (the book was better) or a delight. Next time, I’ll offer some thoughts and advice on telling stories in more than one way.
No comments:
Post a Comment