Why So Serious?

When dealing with theories of literature that are based on the reasoning behind deep philosophical topics, it is difficult to avoid collapsing into philosophical reasoning proper. But the nature of the material is such that these sorts of considerations are inevitable.

In a well-written and enjoyable piece, Mr. Leon confronts the reader with a hypothesis regarding "our" reactions to evil in literature. I don't agree with his claim, but rather than offer a substantial antithesis I think it would be better to offer a different perspective that widens the possibilities of interpretation on these key points. After all, by offering an explanation that makes use of abstract qualities that would classically have had ontological justification derived from some background metaphysical picture, Mr. Leon leaves his explanation open to refutation by anybody that doesn't share that metaphysical picture. I deny, for example, that "humility" plays a role in human action, but is only a folk-psychological substitute for different, far more complex explanations that are brought together under a common system of prudential analysis that offer functional, but not correct, natural synopses of human practical rationality.

In Mr Leon's own words:

"I submit that the power and attractiveness of a character of extraordinary virtue or vice is a function of how nonchalant, how indifferent they are about their vice or virtue. What characterizes both the monster and the saint is how they act as if it were the most natural thing in the world. When asked about the extraordinary nature of their actions, they are simply puzzled. “How could I act any other way?” they ask us. “How could you even ask the question?”

I don't fully understand what could constitute evidence either for or against this claim that would go beyond Mr. Leon's references to the enjoyment he derives from characters he engages with. He certainly doesn't speak for me, in any case; I would offer as a justification for my enjoyment of a character of either positive or negative moral valence the amount I am able to learn from the combination of traits, situations and reactions that boost my understanding of the range of possible social or psychological situations resulting from the character's role in the narrative. There is nothing nonchalant about any of the remarkable characters in the Brothers Karamazov. One of the main focuses of the antagonist Fyodor Pavlovitch is not that he is nonchalant, but that he justifies his own activity in such a way as to be impervious to the sort of scrutiny or attempt at correction that ought to occur in his social life. His nonchalance has nothing to do with it.

Hannibal Lecter may be a rather more friendly example to Mr. Leon's claim - perhaps one could say that nonchalance is an outstanding characteristic of Mr Lecter's behaviour. In fact, this example is quite telling. What Mr. Leon touches on in his analysis is that a character who is emotionally unmoved by committing acts of violence or spite towards which a sympathetic audience generally has strong emotional reactions reveals an underlying disharmony that moves the vote against him, so to speak. This is one of the most basic psychological mechanisms employed in literature for narrative effect.

However: firstly, this sort of emotional detachment is only one way of alienating the audience. Other ways include giving the character substantial and scarily coherent justification, such as Turgenev's Bazarov, providing the character with sufficient back-story to force the audience to assume that they must be morally compromised to occupy the role that they do, such as the hordes of Nazi Stormtroopers in Indiana Jones: Raiders of the Lost Ark, or pushing the boundaries of what the audience believes the character is inclined to do on the basis of their alien nature or incomprehensible (though assumedly coherent) goals, such as McTiernan's Predator. Another example that Mr. Leon may have trouble with would be one of the finest cinematic antagonists, Cameron's T-1000 from the second Terminator movie. To assign "nonchalance" to this character makes no sense. Until the end, this character cannot be assigned motivations on an intelligent viewing of the movie, but must be understood rather more as a force of nature or an inevitability of fate. These examples make no real sense on Mr. Leon's analysis, unless he wants to claim that whatever antagonists we experience must have some level of emotional engagement to be interesting. But I shouldn't think he would want to defend this, as this is a truism, and an uninteresting one at that.

Secondly: the sort of nonchalance that betrays psychopathy or emotional detachment in the face of violence is, statistically, exceedingly rare. Examples thereof are vastly outweighed by antagonists who simply possess a coherent but contrary set of goals, but who are nonetheless rational and intelligent. Where does "nonchalance" fit in with Milton's Satan? Once again, I don't wish to offer a counterargument of any singular character but only wish to stress that any single point that hopes to capture why we like and dislike protagonists and antagonists will fail as hopelessly myopic, as this field extends outwards potentially as far as moral philosophy itself. To give an idea of the breadth of ideas we would have to capture, I can, in conclusion, offer (at least) five alternative "functions" that maintain interest in both fictional and factual antagonism:

1) The depth of justification possible in the face of apparently hopelessly practical irrationality
2) The divergence in character that makes such justification possible
3) The divergence in character that makes alien forms of sensibility possible, such as in the case of psychopathic violence
4) The engagement with standard moral questions pertaining to the "true" end of practical rationality
5) The divergence in situation that challenges the ability of the audience to maintain that they would remain practically rational given the same options.

Some last thoughts on the Joker. I would like to believe that Nolan had created some sort of moral superbeing, one who pursues practically irrational aims with all the force of a categorical imperative, but as much as I love the character and enjoy his screen time, let's not put too fine a point on it, he's just a violent sociopath. An interesting one, and one who possesses the aforementioned coherence and justification that adds depth and interest to an antagonist, but simply a violent sociopath all the same.

1) His multiple backstories are not devised to elude all explanation of his origin, but simply to do two things: (a) to reveal that he has a deep knowledge of the importance of such explanations, but doesn't grant them any weight, probably on the basis of an intelligent cynicism that means that he would reject therapy or any attempt to communicate with him on a personal level, and (b) to cause psychological suffering by tailoring the story itself to each new hearer. In the case of the mob boss, he refers to his childhood to emphasise the childlike dependence in which he now maintains his victim (he is, at that point, holding a knife to the man's mouth). He emphasises his sexual nature by flirting with his second victim, referring to a sexual relationship he had prior to that. By implying that he has been psychologically damaged in regard to women, he threatens and more closely personalises the threat.

2) He consistently takes great pleasure in torture and psychological abuse.

3) His pomp and extraversion reveal that his moral code is NOT derived from a connection with some higher calling, but rather that he is simply extremely self-centered. He talks with great verve about his own beliefs and perspective, leaves calling cards and gloats constantly.

4) Although he claims not to have any sort of forethought, he clearly expends great time and effort in organising large-scale schemes, such as packing hospitals with explosives or rigging bombs to ships and carefully distributing detonators.

I would love to see a character that fits Mr. Leon's description; it would be both philosophically and aesthetically stimulating. But the Joker certainly does not fit such a description.