Alex Spencer said:
Disney-Colored Death
From Bambi to Up, Disney films have hardly pulled their punches when it comes to showing death to a young audience in their films. What can videogames learn from their example?
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Great article. Seriously.
This'll sound odd, but the first thing that popped into my head while reading this is the difference between
Hostel and
Hostel II. Bear with me on this, it makes total sense by the end.
Whatever the subject you're presenting in a work of art, particularly a storytelling form of art, I think the overall goal is some kind of emotional reaction. You present a set of circumstances, and you expect the audience to feel a certain way about them (which allows you to build on that, forming an emotional leash by which you lead the audience on a journey).
Hostel wasn't really a good movie. It wasn't trying to say anything deeper than what was on the surface, but there was something it did right. When watching something particularly gruesome and painful,
the camera refused to flinch. If you didn't want to see it,
you had to look away. In forcing the audience to play visual "chicken" with the gore, it stirred a strong emotional reaction. In that sense, the movie wasn't "good," but it was
effective. The sequel, however, undid all of that. In most of the gore-heavy scenes, the bulk of the "action" happened off-screen, and you only saw the characters' reactions. The experience was just far less effective.
This same principle translates into how children's movies handle "heavy" emotional content. Basically, movies can undermine their own emotional power when they
react for you. No longer is the movie leading you to feel something, it's just telling you how someone else feels. It lacks the personal stamp of authenticity that
only you can put on an emotion.
Why do movies do this, particularly when it comes to kids? For one, I think that the people making the movies are afraid that kids won't "get it." They won't understand the gravity of a particular scene unless it's explained via dialogue--which, if that's the case, the kid isn't going to 'get' the explanation anyway, so why not just save yourself some time.
The other reason, of course, is fear that they'll "overdo" it. They don't want to scare the kids or make the movie gory, or anything of that sort. For the most part, I blame the creative forces behind the movie for not understanding
what to show and what not to. An emotionally effective scene isn't about the information you give the audience. It's about the
weight of that information.
Pixar did it right twice, with
Finding Nemo and
Up. In neither case to you really
see the loved one die--you are not given that information. However, in both cases, the movie establishes a lot of
good emotions first, tied directly to that character. The character is given gravity within the emotional context of the film, to such a degree that when the character is removed,
you feel the pull of their absence.
In a movie like
Hostel, the weight of the action
is in the gore itself. In order to feel that 'sympathy pain,' you've got to see it happening (or be forced to look away of your own accord). The same is very true in real life--we often feel better about a cut if we're not looking at it, but we have to fight that urge to keep looking.
In situations like the opening sequences of
Up and
Finding Nemo, the real weight isn't in the death itself. It's in
what that death means for everyone else. The same is very true in real life--our sadness over a death is often centered on the holes it leaves in our lives, rather than on the actual circumstances of the death.
If a movie fails to understand and recreate those feelings in the audience and create that emotional context, they don't build the empathy they need to give the scene any real emotional weight. And this works just as well for children's movies. If we don't trust that children have the ability to develop that sort of empathy, we rob these scenes of their significance, we cheapen their experiences with these movies, and we shallow out their future expectations of art.