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Suspense
Suspense is, perhaps, the most powerful device
in all of storytelling, or at least the most efficient. Once an
author has done the work to create suspense—a state of heightened
anticipation in the audience—he can continue to reap the rewards
long after the set-up. The true power of suspense is that it lives
in mind of the audience member, not on the screen or the page. This
has the twofold benefit that 1) fear and anticipation of the unknown
(or even of the known) are far more powerful in one’s imagination
than any direct depiction could capture, and 2) the author can
continue to elicit emotion from the audience without having to incur
the many costs associated with actually depicting that which the
audience fears.
The principles of suspense are surprisingly
similar across media (literature, film, television, games) and
across genre (comedy, drama, horror, pornography). In this article I
will focus on the kind of suspense surrounding impending scary and
nasty events, which relates well to my article on horror.
Interestingly, it also relates well to my article on hiding secrets
in 1-player platform games.
After laying out the basics, I’ll go over
four examples from film (Psycho, Reservoir Dogs, Scream, and the
Blair Witch Project), and compare two examples in games (Resident
Evil 2 and Silent Hill).
The first step in creating suspense is to
create the ‘credible threat’ that something might happen. This
can be done through a myriad of circumstantial clues, or by actual
example. To establish the threat that characters can die, for
example, kill off a character early. Once the credible threat has
been established, the real fun begins. Every subtlety becomes
further beautiful torture for the audience. The glint of a knife
under an overcoat conjures up images more frightening than an actual
stabbing would. The squint of an eye, the tinge of maniacal
laughter, and every other detail hint at whatever terrible event is
to come. Suddenly every shadowy corner—normally boring and
non-descript—becomes a possible harbinger of doom.
I know I said I’d stick to the kind of
suspense related to the anticipation of bad things, but the
connection to sex is just too strong. The anticipation is the thing.
The actual pay-off lasts only a matter of seconds, but the
anticipation—given that the credible threat has been
established—can go on for hours. A dark corner is not scary, and a
caress of the nose isn’t sexy, but both can be once the
proper anticipation has been established. The actual pay-offs of sex
or violence can occur only a very limited number of times before
they become more boring than exciting or shocking. The are virtually
no limits, though, to the sweet agony of anticipation. This means
that the most suspenseful and engaging of works can be filled with
vast stretches of what would otherwise be called ‘emptiness,’
filled only with anticipation.
Now let’s turn to four examples from film,
starting with the most subtle and ending with the most extreme.
Psycho
Who better to teach us about suspense than the
master of the form himself: Alfred Hitchcock. Psycho at first
appears to be about the troubles with money and love of one Miss
Marion Crane (Janet Leigh), but then suddenly becomes the story of
something else entirely once Marion arrives at the Bates Motel. The
suspense created in the scenes where Marion talks with Norman Bates
and then retires to her room is created almost entirely within those
scenes, rather than before. The preceding scenes do demonstrate that
no one knows where Marion is and that the Bates Motel is a remote
and isolated location, but the credible threat is established during
Marion’s ostensibly pleasant chit-chat with Norman Bates.
The audience realizes much more than
Marion—that Norman is a little off in the head, and that his
mother is at least as troubled. Marion sits in a room filled with
stuffed birds, due to Norman’s rather odd hobby of taxidermy. In
essence, she is surrounded by death…in the form of birds, and even
with a last name like Crane, she doesn’t realize at all the danger
she’s in. This is called Dramatic Irony, since the audience knows
something the character doesn’t. The audience is able to put the
various clues together to form the credible threat of danger, even
though Marion is oblivious.
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Norman Bates and his
eerily foreshadowing stuffed birds. |
It’s the dramatic irony, I believe, that
gives these scenes their power. The audience wants to yell out to
Marion that she should leave immediately, that every door she opens
could be dangerous, that every shower she takes….
Reservoir Dogs
Reservoir Dogs employs a truly painful amount
of suspense in the torture scene between Mr. Blond and the cop.
Unlike Psycho, the set-up for this came long before the actual
torture scene; the credible threat of what Mr. Blond might do is
established bit by bit from the beginning of the film all the way to
that scene. We hear Mr. White and Mr. Pink discuss Blond’s
psychotic killing spree in the heist gone wrong. We hear the
gangsters’ attitude that “cops aren’t real people.” By the
time Mr. Blond is alone with the Cop, the credible threat of
violence has been amply established. Writer/Director Tarantino,
fully aware of this, draws out the scene, allowing the audience’s
imaginations to run wild.
Even though 95% of the torture scene consists
of Mr. Blond dancing around telling jokes, the scene is remembered
as excruciatingly violent. Almost all of this violence is in the
mind of the viewer. Even during the actual act of violence that does
occur, all we are shown is about 14 seconds of an empty doorway. But
Tarantino doesn’t stop there. He’s established beyond any doubt
that Mr. Blond is capable of anything, both through foreshadowing
hearsay and through actual example. At this point, all Mr. Blond
need do is threaten an even more horrible and unthinkable act, and
the anticipation and mental horror the audience must endure becomes
far more terrible than depiction of this act would ever be.
Tarantino draws out the threat of this act as long as possible…and
actual completion of the act isn’t needed, since it’s been
happening for over two minutes in everyone’s minds. He uses this
climactic moment to deliver a totally unexpected turn of the
plot…but that’s another story.
Scream
In Scream, writer/director Kevin Williamson
simultaneously employs the principles of suspense and makes fun of
them. Scream is also a notable example of the power an opening
sequence can have.
Scream’s opening sequence is a self-contained
vignette with a beginning, middle, and end. Suspense is built during
the sequence as Casey Becker (Drew Barrymore) realizes the very
credible threat that the man on the phone might kill her.
(Interesting Note: Hitchcock, with Psycho, was the first director to
kill off the huge star (Janet Leigh) for the sheer shock value of
it. At that time no audience expected the biggest name in the film
to be killed so early. Williamson’s homage to this was killing off
the biggest star of Scream, Drew Barrymore, in the very first
scene!)
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| When a big star such as
Drew Barrymore in Scream (left) or Janet Leigh in Psycho
(right) dies early, the threat of death looms over all the
remaining characters. |
Although the opening sequence is
self-contained, the interesting note is that the opening sequence itself
is the credible threat of violence for the entire rest of the movie.
The nebulous danger of a killer out there somewhere would simply not
have the power to fill every corridor and closet with suspenseful
danger had we not been shown the brutal murder at the beginning. The
opening sequence establishes ample credible threat, and it also
establishes the film’s genre, which is another topic entirely.
Williamson pokes quite a bit of fun at the
device of suspense by creating numerous moments of anticipation out
of completely unscary things. In Scream 2, he trains the audience to
be so afraid of a phone call from the killer that the very sound of
ring, and later the sound of computer instant message(!)—makes the
audience jump. Williamson’s crowning moment is the 10 minute scene
in Scream 2 where Sydney (Nev Campbell) and her friend Hallie (Elise
Neal) are trapped in a car and must climb over the unconscious body
of the killer to escape. This scene is excruciatingly long and
incredibly suspenseful…but the joke is on us. Absolutely nothing
happens, and the two escape the car without incident. Ha! Based on
the earlier credible threats of violence, Williamson essentially got
10 minutes of engaging screentime “for free.”
The Blair Witch Project
This film is the jewel and total embodiment of
suspense. It is a film consisting almost entirely of nothing at all,
yet somehow, the endless hiking and bickering are made into a
disturbing and engaging experience for the audience. The credible
threat of danger is established through the curious device of
beginning the film by telling us the main characters have died. This
allows the ENTIRE film to be come alive with suspense—with the
anticipation—of the death they will inevitably face.
The Blair Witch Project also joins the long
tradition of creating emotion (in this case fear) entirely within
the mind of the viewer, rather than through direct images on screen.
Perhaps the most frightening moment of the entire film is when the
hikers discover three piles of sticks near their tent, representing
their three impending deaths. This is the first moment they realize
that their fears are not just imaginary—someone or something is
really out there. I have never been so completely terrified of a
small pile of twigs in my life.
Resident Evil 2 vs. Silent Hill
I suppose it’s finally time for this article
on suspense in games to mention an actual game. I’m sure you’ve
been waiting—even anticipating—this moment the entire time.
Suspenseful wasn’t it?
Resident Evil 2 (PlayStation) and Silent Hill
(PlayStation) are both very similar games. They’re both horror
games that rely heavily on obnoxious and poor puzzle design, and
they both have settings full of shadows and the undead. Silent
Hill’s game engine is more advanced, and its fog effect is a great
example of a technological limitation turned into a design strength,
conveying a feeling of isolation and fear of the unknown. For this
reason, Silent Hill is probably “scarier” for the first 10
minutes.
But Resident Evil 2 really mops the floor with
Silent Hill. There’s no comparison. Resident Evil 2 uses many of
the concepts I’ve covered so far to establish the credible threat
of danger. Its opening sequence starts the player about 2 inches
away from a pack of zombies he has no hope of killing or running
away from, since the player doesn’t even know the controls to
shoot or run yet. This would ordinarily be considered poor design,
but it’s perfect in a horror game. It establishes that enemies are
hard to kill, and that you can die in this game. And die you will.
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| The player starts just
inches away from a horde of zombies at the beginning of
Resident Evil 2. |
Resident Evil 2 also has a few moments here and
there of a planned and scripted scary event, such as hands reaching
out of the wall at you, crows shattering a window and swarming you,
and the unforgettable “licker” jumping through the one-way
interrogation window at you. These moments establish the credible
threat that some scary might happen at any moment. This means
the one thousand other moments when nothing scary actually happens,
the player is still on his toes because something just might. Every
corner becomes scary (thanks to the cleverly useless camera angles
that are designed to limit the player’s view). Every hallway looks
menacing. Resident Evil knows the difference between creating a
scary looking environment, and an environment that actually is
scary.
Meanwhile, Silent Hill with all its advanced
graphics creates zero moments of scariness. It never establishes any
credible threat of danger or surprise. The player soon learns he can
run around in the dark in a graveyard all he pleases, and that at
worst he’ll encounter a standard, helpless, familiar monster. The
game is totally lacking in suspense, and as a result it feels
boring, hollow, and empty.
I’ll leave you with this sobering thought.
Consider the work that went into both of these games. Both games
created an entire world for the player to navigate. Both had music,
sound effects, 3D models, textures, and animation. And after all
that work, Silent Hill delivered a flat experience, while Resident
Evil 2 delivered a memorable one—all because of a few scripted
scary moments that made up about 2% of the game. That 2% of the game
was all that was needed to establish the credible threat that is the
seed of suspense. This incredible “bang for the buck” just goes
to show the true efficiency and power of suspenseful writing and
design.
Talk
back! Discuss this article in the forums.
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| "Kids
these days are always talking about sex! It's obscene!" |
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| "Hitchcock
was a crackpot. You kids are too young to remember the ending of
Strangers on a Train." |
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| "RE2.
Bah! Since
when do police chiefs hide magic amulets in the lobby of their
stations. And why is there only an emergency ladder but no
stairs between the first and second floors?" |
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