Suspension of disbelief

While at a play recently, a friend of mine pointed out to me a few things which he said didn't suspend his disbelief. In most artistic media, suspension of disbelief is important it either proves that things are real, or makes them seem as though they are possible. It makes stories more compelling because we get more enravelled in them; we learn to accept the stories' worlds as our own, which makes identifying with the characters easier.

Nowadays, however, it is very difficult to suspend disbelief. Many of us know so much trivial information that it sort of ruins our acceptance of a story if it includes something which contradicts those facts. In addition, things are always so focused on being as accurate and detailed as possible that we can't help but build up this mental database of trivia. And, on the most part, it's not entirely a bad thing to know a lot of different things. We value things are are depicted very accurately, and rightly so. This clears up a lot of biases that people have towards things, which can be a great boon.

In the realm of artistic expression, however, this isn't entirely helpful. In order to make things very believable, to suspend the belief of the audience, the artist has to really do his homework. I mean that he has to research in depth all aspects of his creation and reflect all of this in his work. That's not to say that it's a bad thing, but putting so much work into a secondary aspect of a project really does detract from the primary purpose of one's creation.

My friends and I are the type of people to go into a sci-fi movie and whisper to each other about how certain things aren'y physically possible, or about how things aren't accurately portrayed on-screen. I have gone to some historically fictive films and made a list of things that were historically inaccurate. Then I've separated those inaccuracies based on whether they were essential to the plot or not. I may be a geek - and a proud one, I might add - but I know that I am nowhere near alone in noting these types of discrepencies, though I will admit I'm one of the few to actually jot them down. I feel like this is a product of our well-educated and information-ready society.

Think, if you will, to about thirty-five years ago. A pleothora of horrible horror movies existed which were much more effective than today's, despite today's flicks having much nicer computer-generated graphics and more realistic make-up and stuff. As great as the original Star Wars movies are, I still turn away from the horribly choreographed sword-fights. On the other hand, I just saw the second Transformers movie. It was a ridiculously bad movie, but the graphics were beautiful and worth seeing. Again, I know that I am not alone in this regard.

Regardless, the times, they are a-changin'! The damage is done, and so now, we can only hope to move forwards. I realize that not every movie or television series can be as accurate and intense as Eureka or Battlestar Galactica. But, hey, Lost tries, and despite its occasional fact-bending, it's not so bad overall, not to mention that it's a great series.

Yes, I may be to blame for my lack of tolerance of incorrect facts and inconsistencies, but I'm sure that the number of people who agree with me are growing. And really, is it so hard to get things that right? But at the same time, I definitely think we need to learn to look past this kind of stuff a little more, so that we can appreciate something for its message while artistic media tries to catch up with our demand for high quality. I can definitely appreciate the fact that it gets very tedious and annoying, and requires quite a lot of work, but it's worth the effort in order to have a much more convincing world in place. The more convincing the picture, the more likely we are to see the artist's message without getting distracted.

Unless, of course, the point is the distraction itself.

King of the Hill and Buddhism

When I took Buddhist Philosophy at Rutgers, my professor played for us an episode of King of the Hill: Won't You Pimai Neighbor?

It's a great episode and a lot of interesting Buddhist philosophy can be found in it, but really it's the ending that does it. Bobby finds out that he's the reincarnation of a lama after a few monks come to visit his girlfriend, Connie's parents. Things go well for a time, while they wait for another monk to come and confirm the finding. That is, until Connie and Bobby find out that lama's are celibate monks and cannot have relationships. Bobby worries a lot and even considers trying to throw the test, but realizes he can't when Connie explains her feelings about her religion and tells him what would happen if he purposely failed.

It's a heartwarming episode. At the end, he's supposed to choose among the effects of the old lama. He chooses Connie, by pointing to her reflection in the mirror. After everyone leaves, one of the monks talks to the newly arrived head monk, pointing out:

MONK # 1: But that was Sanglug's mirror.
HEAD MONK: I know, but he didn't pick it.
MONK # 1: But he used it.
HEAD MONK: Tough call. But it's mine, and I made it.

One of the ideas behind this exchange is that Bobby passed the test, but did not choose to be a monk. His relationship with Connie in this life was more important to him, and to take him away from that would be unacceptable.

While this is not exclusively Buddhist in ideology, and while it's neither highly detailed nor completely (in)accurate, it is notable for the fact that it provides a tangible argument in an appealing way, and that it's set in modern times. It's a great episode and I highly recommend it. That kind of television is something else entirely.