(by Adhithya K R)
Sometimes we want to know what could happen. Sometimes we want to know what happens next.
When a friend recommended Spoorloos to me, he narrated a scene from the movie to me. A man stands at the edge of a building and thinks whether he should jump or not. Any sane man would not jump and step back, but this man follows a perverse line of reasoning: To go against what is predetermined, he must jump. The absurdity of that act got me interested and I expected the movie to be an existential story dealing with philosophical questions.
It wasn’t. Spoorloos (The Vanishing) deals with the story of a man named Rex searching for his missing wife Saskia. It looks like something sinister is about to happen when their car breaks down in a tunnel but nothing does. Later, Saskia actually goes missing in the middle of a crowded intersection. There is no trace of her.
The movie’s narrative is very closely associated with the point of view of Rex who is still searching for her three years later. We see what he sees and understand his frustration in not knowing Saskia’s fate. It becomes an obsession for him to find out what happened to his wife, even at the cost of normal life or his own safety. The philosophical act that opened this article is only a small line that shapes the character of the abductor.
To find out what happened to Saskia, you would have to see the movie. There’s something else that got me thinking though. If Saskia had gone missing for a couple of days and returned, not providing any explanation for her absence, what would Rex’s reaction have been then? Wouldn’t he have been furious? It’s very similar to how anxious parents turn angry when their child lifts the phone only on the seventh try.
This idea was explored in the story “Kunicki” in the book Flights by Olga Tokarczuk. The beginning is very similar to how Spoorloos starts out – Kunicki’s wife and child go missing when they stop for a roadside break. He raises hell in searching for them and fails to find them, plunging him into despair.
But his wife and kid return. The rest of the story deals with Kunicki’s demand for an explanation. His wife’s vague claims that they just passed out on the roadside and spent a couple of days taking shelter in a nearby stone hut do not convince him. There is no change in her demeanour or her activities after the incident, but the lack of closure is maddening to Kunicki.
He tries to ‘discover’ what actually happened by looking for clues in her belongings and latching on to words, like John Nash from ‘A Beautiful Mind.’ He tries to get his child hypnotised to hear his version of events. He drives his wife crazy by following her around and eventually this leads to their separation. He doesn’t relent though. The story ends with him leaving in search of answers, whatever they may be.
Kunicki and Rex are not unique in their need for closure. Some people who cannot read a book completely at least skip to its last page and find out how it ends. The most depressing experience for them would definitely be that of a power cut just as a movie is about to end. In fact, movies that end in a tragic manner are sometimes tolerated but ones that leave questions unanswered are often hated. The psychological need for closure is a strong one.
Different people react to a lack of closure differently though. Some people have a strong need for closure whereas others can deal with ambiguity. In fact, there is a scale to measure this inclination called the “Need For Closure scale”. People who measure high on this scale prefer closure, definite answers and order. They favour political conservatism. They pick facts to reinforce their world-view. The ones who measure low on this scale, on the other hand, deal with ambiguity better and look for views that challenge their world view. In fact, they exhibit a tendency to avoid closure. They would rather prolong the ‘good experience’ and avoid negative consequences than put things to an end.
This phenomenon can explain a lot of things when it comes to content consumers – Why some love open endings whereas others hate it. Why some fear the end of their favourite series and space it out at a few episodes a day, whereas others binge watch it because they have to “know how it ends.” Why some prefer explicit narratives whereas others don’t want to be “spoon-fed.” In fact, creators might themselves do better if they stick to a certain kind of narrative. Stephen King’s books are ‘well-designed’ and everyone knows how they’re going to build up to a terrific payoff. G.R.R Martin’s series, on the other hand, thrived on its unpredictable turns in a show that seemed to go on forever. He might have done better to even abandon the series and leave behind a legacy of fond remembrance and fan-fiction. A rushed ending did not give the closure that he probably avoided himself.
Conventional thrillers and linear narratives satiate the ones who look for closure. They revel in the execution of a good story even if they know the good guy is going to win in the end. The other group is the one that gets bored with plot and looks for variations in form. Just knowing that a certain kind of book or movie exists could excite the imagination of its members, though they may never get to read it (like the fictional titles mentioned in the books by Borges). There’s a very interesting book called “If on a Winter’s Night A Traveller” where a reader goes in search of the continuation of a novel, but he only keeps finding the first chapters of different books. Every alternate chapter is a promising start to an exciting story that goes nowhere. The book would have been possible only if the man in the book was someone with a strong need for closure, but the book can be read only by someone who is able to handle ambiguity.
I guess the yin-yang interplay of both types of creators is needed to sustain life in the arts. The balance between these two sides – the romantic and the classical – a search for unifying Quality is what the narrator of “Zen and The Art of Motorcycle Maintenance” goes in search of, but as he finds out in the end –
Tell you what, if your need for closure is strong enough, you’ll find out.
Madan
March 30, 2020
Well written. Zen and the art of maintaining motorcycles is a great book.
It could also be, to add to your argument, that the same person is more or less open ended about different things. As a finance person, I cannot (am not trained to) accept as much ambiguity as a sales guy. I won’t give a yes until I am certain of all the facts so I need ‘closure’ at work. But I am open minded about structure in music and don’t need a linear organisation of developments in a piece of music (though I want to find out that there is some connection, at least an unconventional one, between one development and the other). Then again, not so open minded that I could listen to free jazz. But if I were only as open ended about music as I am at work, I would only be listening to old film songs and abhor unpredictability completely. On similar lines, I accept experimentation in fiction but in non fiction I expect succinctness. So does it really say something about a person’s worldview, whether they want closure in a story or not? I don’t know, hard to say.
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N Madhusudhan
March 30, 2020
Fascinating. Wonderfully written, Adithya, as always. When we talk about a film, doesn’t it also have to do with how the film sets up its open endings? The entire nation was waiting breathlessly to know why Kattappa killed Baahubali. Whereas not many were particularly keen on what happened to the Chola prince after the end of Aayirathil Oruvan. I loved both endings.
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Amit Joki
March 30, 2020
Ad Astra was basically Brad Pitt wanting closure with his dad. I kept thinking how interesting it would be if in place of Brad Pitt, we had Anne Hathaway who continues from where she left in Interstellar. She needs closure too in Interstellar. Will she find her love, Edmund? That would have made a far better watch with a satisfying payoff.
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Naren
March 31, 2020
This is a good one. The open endings where the recipients draw their own conclusions or a roadmap of progression have to be earned right from the start. If I perceive the end without a doubt but it is given an anti-climactic closure, that irritates me to no end. Otherwise, I’m definitely the guy who thrives on non-closures that r well earned.
[NO SPOILERS]
Spoorloos is a good example. But in my opinion a better example wud b the first season of the BBC drama “The Missing”. The creators were very clear about the tone and nature of the season right from the start and hence began earning the “end” right from the first episode. But what really enhanced that open-ended nature of the season was the sepulchrally haunting performance by James Nesbitt [I thought he gave Neeson a run for his money in “Five Minutes of Heaven” but this is on a whole another level]. Without that kind of output from the lead the audience might’ve jumped to conclusions saying that the creators were wayward and/or Tchéky Karyo’s Julien Baptiste was incompetent and perfunctory. It was James Nesbitt’s Tony Hughes that brought out the true nature of the season and the intention of the creators that lead to the nerve-racking and bleak end of the season.
The open-endedness in the above example is multi-fold. From what I read in the reviews, commentaries, testimonials coupled with my own opinion, the viewers r vociferously schismatic, Tony Hughes, the character, goes in one direction, James Nesbitt the actor had a different opinion, the creator went in a third direction. Those who expect closure wud really go mad with this one. If Nolan’s mind-benders r brain fodder on a more superficial level, this digs deeper and truly keeps me hooked.
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Alex John
March 31, 2020
Oh!What a movie experience Spoorloos was!Thank you Aditya for reminding me of that film.The ending was one of the best I ever watched.And those who remade it in Hollywood presumed American audience wanted pleasure along with closure, so they turned this unequalled gem of a movie into a lazy work of art with an infantile climax.
Regardless, a nice article about a rather untouched topic.
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AdhithyaKR
March 31, 2020
@Madan, thanks. This is an interesting point. When I wrote the article I identified with the ones who avoid closure but my friend thought I identified with the other point of view, based on my obsessive need to recollect which movie a particular dialogue belonged to, etc. I guess the need for closure manifests differently in different areas and they might not be an accurate indicator of things like political inclination. I need to do more research on this.
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AdhithyaKR
March 31, 2020
@Madhusudhan, thank you. The necessity for closure definitely depends on the way the open ending is set up. I’m guessing the reactions would be different towards the same situation – Some might be satisfied with knowing why Kattappa killed Bahubali, whereas others might enjoy guessing the reason more than seeing the resolution. Again, I need to do more study about this because I feel like there’s a lot of confirmation bias from my end. 😅
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AdhithyaKR
March 31, 2020
@Naren, “The Missing” sounds interesting. I’ll check it out! Though Nolan’s open endings are the popular ones, I found them to be gimmicky compared to his own movies which have a clear ending like The Following and Memento (though they’re good endings when seen on their own).
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AdhithyaKR
March 31, 2020
@AlexJohn, thanks. I haven’t watched the Hollywood version but I read it was shabby compared to the original.
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Ramit
March 31, 2020
Very clever write-up, Adhithya.
Regarding some people rationing their favorite tv series, it happened to me last week.
I had been avoiding Kota Factory for long. But last week, finally, I saw the pilot. Boy, did I love it! It was about education. But all I could see was romance. Romance for education, romance for struggle, romance for friendship. And it was not just in characterization or dialogues but also in the way the camera would move. Slow, dreamy gaze.
It had just five episodes. And I knew I didn’t want it to end soon. So, I would watch one episode each day. And the way each episode ended, it would leave me satiated for full one day. I didn’t want to kill its aftertaste with overdose.
P.S.- There was even one Kartik Aryan-esque scene where the protagonist is ranting against the unattainable object of desire. But this time, it’s not against girls but inorganic chemistry! What a monologue that was! How the study narratives are linked with the students real life was cherry on the cake.
Here is a link to the first episode:
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AdhithyaKR
April 2, 2020
@Ramit, Thanks. TVF is really difficult to ration, isn’t it? 😁 I remember having a similar experience while watching TVF Pitchers.
Kota Factory was great. I stopped noticing that it was in black and white because of the strong plot and characters. The chemistry rant was typical of a larger pattern where every episode started with a big problem and a set of smaller symptoms which would get solved by the end. There was also the main goal of working towards the IIT entrance exam. The show managed both arcs perfectly.
I just hope they continue these shows… It’s been a long time since Pitchers season 1 and there’s no sign of it continuing.
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