The secret allure of the spoiler

Ideas

January 29, 2012|By Ty Burr

(istockphoto/Globe Staff Photo Illustration)

Is there a greater cultural sin than a good story spoiled? The accepted modern posture is that knowing too much beforehand about the plot of a novel, a play, a movie, even a TV series, ruins the magic of experiencing it for the first time — renders it damaged goods, not worth one’s time or money. The phrase “spoiler alert” (with or without multiple exclamation points) has become a standard warning klaxon in news articles and on online comment boards. Media critics catch hellfire from readers if they reveal too much of what happens to whom and when. And we’ve all been insulted by movie trailers that play like Mini-Me versions of the features they’re supposedly selling.

I still remember idly flipping to the last page of an Agatha Christie novel as a teenager and being confronted by the name of the killer in the very last sentence. (Lesson learned, Dame Agatha; I’ll never peek again.) And as a working film critic, I navigate the shoals of information — how much is too much? how can I tell readers about the movie without saying what happens? — on a daily basis. It’s a given: Everyone hates spoilers.

Except when they don’t. Two researchers in the psychology department of the University of California at San Diego recently decided to test whether we really hate spoilers, or just like to say we do. What they found surprised them: The majority of people apparently like having a story spoiled for them. In fact, we may enjoy spoiled stories even more than the unspoiled versions. Is it true? Do we secretly crave predigested plots the way some foodies sneak Big Macs when no one’s looking?

The paper, published in the September issue of Psychological Science, presents the results of a series of experiments conducted by Jonathan D. Leavitt and Nicholas J. S. Christenfeld. The authors asked a large group of undergraduates to read classic short stories in three categories: literary works (such as Raymond Carver’s “The Calm”), mysteries (Agatha Christie’s “A Chess Problem”), and ironic-twist tales (Ambrose Bierce’s “An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge”). Each student read one story in its original form, one with separate introductory material that laid out everything that was about to happen, and one with that same material simply incorporated as part of the text. Even surprise endings were given away.

Curiously, the test subjects favored the spoiled stories, sometimes significantly so. Even more paradoxically, it was the genres that seem to depend on surprise the most — mysteries and ironic-twist stories — that readers liked best when they already knew the ending.