Studying Aristotle’s “Poetics” — Part 26: Tragedy vs. Epic Poems

As I’ve been interviewing screenwriters, I typically ask what some of their influences are. One book title comes up over and over again: Aristotle’s “Poetics.” I confess I’ve never read the entire thing, only bits and pieces. So I thought, why not do a daily series to provide a structure to compel me to go through it. That way we’d all benefit from the process.

For background on Aristotle, you can go here to see an article on him in the Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy.

To download “Poetics,” you can go here.

Part 26: Tragedy vs. Epic Poems

The question may be raised whether the Epic or Tragic mode of imitation
is the higher. If the more refined art is the higher, and the more
refined in every case is that which appeals to the better sort of
audience, the art which imitates anything and everything is manifestly
most unrefined. The audience is supposed to be too dull to comprehend
unless something of their own is thrown by the performers, who therefore
indulge in restless movements. Bad flute-players twist and twirl,
if they have to represent ‘the quoit-throw,’ or hustle the coryphaeus
when they perform the Scylla. Tragedy, it is said, has this same defect.
We may compare the opinion that the older actors entertained of their
successors. Mynniscus used to call Callippides ‘ape’ on account of
the extravagance of his action, and the same view was held of Pindarus.
Tragic art, then, as a whole, stands to Epic in the same relation
as the younger to the elder actors. So we are told that Epic poetry
is addressed to a cultivated audience, who do not need gesture; Tragedy,
to an inferior public. Being then unrefined, it is evidently the lower
of the two.

Now, in the first place, this censure attaches not to the poetic but
to the histrionic art; for gesticulation may be equally overdone in
epic recitation, as by Sosistratus, or in lyrical competition, as
by Mnasitheus the Opuntian. Next, all action is not to be condemned-
any more than all dancing- but only that of bad performers. Such was
the fault found in Callippides, as also in others of our own day,
who are censured for representing degraded women. Again, Tragedy like
Epic poetry produces its effect even without action; it reveals its
power by mere reading. If, then, in all other respects it is superior,
this fault, we say, is not inherent in it.

And superior it is, because it has epic elements- it may even
use the epic meter- with the music and spectacular effects as important
accessories; and these produce the most vivid of pleasures. Further,
it has vividness of impression in reading as well as in representation.
Moreover, the art attains its end within narrower limits for the concentrated
effect is more pleasurable than one which is spread over a long time
and so diluted. What, for example, would be the effect of the Oedipus
of Sophocles, if it were cast into a form as long as the Iliad? Once
more, the Epic imitation has less unity; as is shown by this, that
any Epic poem will furnish subjects for several tragedies. Thus if
the story adopted by the poet has a strict unity, it must either be
concisely told and appear truncated; or, if it conforms to the Epic
canon of length, it must seem weak and watery. [Such length implies
some loss of unity,] if, I mean, the poem is constructed out of several
actions, like the Iliad and the Odyssey, which have many such parts,
each with a certain magnitude of its own. Yet these poems are as perfect
as possible in structure; each is, in the highest degree attainable,
an imitation of a single action.

If, then, tragedy is superior to epic poetry in all these respects,
and, moreover, fulfills its specific function better as an art- for
each art ought to produce, not any chance pleasure, but the pleasure
proper to it, as already stated- it plainly follows that tragedy is
the higher art, as attaining its end more perfectly.

Thus much may suffice concerning Tragic and Epic poetry in general;
their several kinds and parts, with the number of each and their differences;
the causes that make a poem good or bad; the objections of the critics
and the answers to these objections….

THE END

It intrigues me that Aristotle is such an apologist for Tragedy, which if I understand it correctly, was aimed more at the masses, its melodrama more likely to arouse pity and fear in an audience, as opposed to Epic Poems, which due to their scope and length would have been targeted (generally) toward a more educated, cerebral bunch. [If I’m wrong on this, I’m sure our Aristotelians will correct me.]

The safer route — at least intellectually — would have been for Aristotle to take the opposite position — advocate for Epic Poem over Tragedy. My guess is this is an example where the principle of unity of action trumps all else. To wit: “Moreover, the art attains its end within narrower limits for the concentrated effect is more pleasurable than one which is spread over a long time and so diluted… Thus if the story adopted by the poet has a strict unity, it must either be concisely told and appear truncated; or, if it conforms to the Epic canon of length, it must seem weak and watery.” A more condensed story with a focused plot is likely to be a better story.

In relation to screenwriting, this is directly applicable when we adapt a novel, particularly a sprawling one, into a movie (not that it necessarily means the movie is by definition going to be better than the novel). We have to zero in on what is at the core of the story and tie every character and every scene to those central narrative elements.

Of course, this emphasis on unity of action extends to original screenplays, too, as we have discussed previously. Notably, for example, when we identify a story’s central theme as a thread to connect every aspect of the script we write.

Let me end with a final point that is absolutely fundamental to screenwriting. Aristotle makes the same point twice: “Again, Tragedy like Epic poetry produces its effect even without action; it reveals its power by mere reading… Further, it has vividness of impression in reading as well as in representation” [emphasis added].

In Hollywood we would say this: It has to be on the page. A screenwriter can’t rely on anything else, rather we have to focus strictly on our words on the page to reveal a story’s “power” and make a vivid “impression.”

I have heard many more than one writer say this in defense of a poorly executed script: “Yeah, but imagine Tom Hanks or Sandra Bullock in this role. Can’t you just see it?”

Wrong! If you have to rely on the impression of an A-list actor to elevate your story to life, then you have failed. The vitality and vibrancy of your story must be on the page itself. The unique combination of your words — scene description and dialogue — needs to create a movie in the mind of the reader, a compelling and visual story that sustains their interest from FADE IN to FADE OUT.

It is a massive challenge, indeed. But there it is: It has to be on the page.

With that, we have reached the end of this 44 installment immersion into Aristotle “Poetics”. To which I say, “Day-um! We made it!”

My sincere gratitude to our Aristotelians for providing their recurring insights into this important literary work. THANK YOU!!!

Onward!

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For the entire series, go here.