The Architecture of Despair

Despair is not the same thing as sadness or frustration, just as joy is not the same thing as happiness or curiosity. As the pinnacles of our emotional experience, despair and joy are better categorized as states of being rather than fleeting sensations. Both are so extreme that only the greatest art can successfully induce them. Why is it so rare for creative media to leave such a powerful, long-term emotional impact upon us, and what are the conditions that must be met for a work of art to do so?

As states of being rather than feelings, joy and despair are more connected to a way of life than to specific circumstances. Thus, whether a work of art puts you into a state of joy or despair depends heavily upon the philosophy of the artist. It doesn’t depend upon whether the story itself is “happy” or “sad.” Tragic media has the potential to provoke despair, but so does comedy. As an example, take the film Les Misérables (2012). Few films have had a greater impact on me than this one. After watching Les Misérables for the first time as a junior in high school, I proceeded to read the unabridged version of the novel, write a script for a two-hour, two-woman play retelling (which I then performed with my sister), and adapted my play into a comedic forty-minute, two-woman film (which I filmed and edited, also with my sister). I spent my entire junior year excessively obsessed with Les Misérables, creatively inspired as never before.

But on the surface, this is a horrible tragedy: type “saddest movies ever” or “saddest stories ever” into a search engine and Les Misérables will be one of the top results. And while this film makes me feel sad, it undeniably puts me into a state of joy. As evident from my year-long obsession, I’m energized and motivated for days following every viewing. How is this possible?

First, no film or other work of art is going to place anyone in a state of joy or despair unless it’s extremely good art. To cause joy or despair, a work of art must be aesthetically engaging. It must be technically pristine. And most importantly, it must be philosophically clear and consistent. This is why it’s so rare for art to have this long-term impact upon us in the first place. Most artists are not geniuses and most art is not great.

Ok. The art must be extremely good. Les Misérables fits these initial standards. But once you’ve met the basic conditions for causing joy or despair, what next? Why do some “sad” stories cause despair, while others cause joy? What is the reason some works of art can plunge us into a week of depression while others can inspire us to be excessively creative and productive for months? It comes down to the artist’s philosophical outlook on life.

If the artist has a benevolent and hopeful perspective, they can put us into a state of joy. This is because their art, whether portraying a desperate struggle or a magnificent triumph, will always carry the same heroic attitude. Victor Hugo, who wrote Les Misérables, may have written a tragedy, but he wrote a heroic tragedy. Those who die go down fighting. Beauty is found in the darkest places. The story tells us that life may be painful and difficult, but there’s always hope. It is this attitude and not the tragic details of the story that puts us in a state of joy. It is this attitude that leaves me fired up and full of creative ideas for my own projects every time I interact with the film.

The same goes for despair. If our artist has a pessimistic, determinist, and hopeless perspective, they have the potential to drag us into the same state of despair. This hopeless attitude is almost nonexistent in great art. Think of a work of art that dramatically affected you. Did it make you feel energized and inspired in the long-term, or did it make you feel depressed and hopeless in the long-term? Most likely, this great work of art you’re thinking of made you feel energized and inspired. Despair is a rare specimen in the world of greatness. Why is it so incredibly difficult to convey this aura of hopelessness?

Well, we don’t particularly want to reap despair from our encounters with art. Part of emotionally experiencing a work of art is giving into the feelings it’s eliciting. It’s certainly possible to “resist” art, and we do this when we start to feel depressed or uncomfortable. Why would we want to visit a museum, listen to a concert, or go to the movie theater with the goal of losing our desire to live? If we knew in advance that a film was going to plunge us into a state of despair, we would not watch it.

Because of the difficulty of creating art that puts us in a state of despair, there are not too many examples of films that do so. One that stands out, however, is the 2000 film Requiem for a Dream. Watching this film was a curious experience for me: afterward, I felt incredibly depressed for several days, and I had to keep reminding myself that this was only because of the film. Requiem for a Dream is a great example of how filmmakers can break through our emotional defenses to successfully elicit despair: there is a thread of hope running through the entire film that tricks us. Until the end, we don’t give up because we are continually thrown hints that things could end in a meaningful way for the characters.

The trick is that whether you’re trying to convey joy or despair, you always need hope to string the viewers along. To end on a despairing note you have to crush that hope thoroughly and abruptly near the end of the story. While Les Misérables strings us along with hope and then dramatically amplifies that hope and fulfillment in the denouement, Requiem for a Dream assures us at the end that our hope was worthless. This is what creates a sense of despair.

In the end, if a film is to create a sense of joy or despair, it must meet very high standards. It is much easier to elicit joy because the hope that the filmmakers thread throughout the story to keep the viewers emotionally engaged gets to come together naturally at the end. In contrast, to elicit despair, the filmmakers must still thread hope throughout the story, but then figure out a logical way to completely break that hope at the end. It’s not enough to have a tragic ending; you have to have a tragic ending with no higher meaning given for the tragedy. In Les Misérables there is meaning given to the characters’ suffering by the conclusion. In Requiem for a Dream, the characters fall farther and farther and by the end of the story have hit rock bottom with no hope of ever rising out of it and no fulfillment to their struggle to feed their drug addictions.

So, the next time a film leaves a long-term impact on you and you’re confused how this subject matter had this kind of impact (say, a tragedy leaves you motivated and inspired), look past the superficial details of the content: how does the filmmaker’s attitude toward life alter the story, and how does their use of anticipation and hope lead to either a cathartic moment of inspiration or a suffocating increase of hopelessness in the climax?