While accusations of being a performative cinemaphile are an everyday thing, I have always considered myself superior to people who cannot handle a sad ending. It is not that I completely abhor a happy ending, but the argument is that, for a piece of art to have a long-lasting impact, it needs to make the audience think beyond its ending.

Happy endings simply end with a notion of happily ever after, but a sad ending makes one think about scenarios of ‘what if’. These very thoughts stop the art from fading away, providing greater retained value for the film or book.

In his work Poetics, Aristotle referred to a phenomenon called katharsis (catharsis in English). He argued that catharsis was essentially the release of strong emotions such as fear, pity, anxiety, etc., in order to relieve oneself. The idea was that such negative emotions are quite often pent up within the human mind, like a pressure valve. According to him, tragedies purgate the soul, allowing it to return to a calmer state.

Similarly, the emotional catharsis from an emotional film is a key aspect of why one would prefer it over a happy ending. Tragedies in films are almost always reflections of the real world, problems that people experience every day. However, the unpredictability of life makes it such that one cannot step outside one’s own point of view and watch one’s tragedy unfold in a ‘watchable’ manner. But when a piece of fiction offers that same story which one lived through at some point in time, it becomes far easier to enjoy the tragedy. The understanding that the tragedy is happening in a controlled environment, coming from the imagination of a person who’s in control of the plot, provides the audience with a greater sense of emotional release.

Research has also shown that there exists a baffling paradox of sadness and enjoyment when it comes to films. When participants were made to sit through a sad film, their moods afterwards were seemingly better. Upon questioning, they said that they felt much more involved in the film due to the tragicness being more realistic to them, allowing it to be relatable and enjoyable. In some ways, the higher involvement increases the meaning behind the film, simply because one starts to care more about it.

A tragic plot alone cannot make a film enjoyable. The character building and the world created around the characters play a far greater role. Consider the world of Dead Poets Society. The classroom, the traditions, the symbolism of the cave and the school offer a broader spectrum of emotional connection to the audience, who start connecting positive feelings like freedom to the cave and conformity to the school. Another example could be Imtiaz Ali’s Rockstar, where the protagonist, Jordan, seeks fame and depends on tragedy to fuel his musical aspiration.

The movie begins with references to the late Jim Morrison, who lived a troubled life. The philosophy in the beginning fulfils itself throughout the story, as the more Jordan suffers, the more famous he becomes. The last straw happens when the female protagonist dies, and he’s forced to sing at a concert, one where he eventually becomes the Rockstar. All in all, the enjoyment depends on how well-rounded the entire piece of work is, and how fittingly it pushes the viewer towards the eventual ending.

On a personal note, I have always found it more worthwhile to watch melancholic cinema because it allows me to celebrate an artist’s work on a higher scale. Leaving the door open to alternative realities makes things more memorable, and ironically allows the character to live beyond their death on a reel. Although bawling one’s eyes out at a fictional death is funny to me, it still works well at reminding people of the everlasting value of art. By denying the audience closure, they continue to live in memory, conversation, and imagination long after the story itself has finished.