"500 Days of Summer" is one of those stories that's supposed to be a love story but isn't. And although we are warned about this up front, we come to hope that it really is, forget that it isn't, and then get mad that it should be. Finally, we embrace what it is - a romantic comedy that is not particularly romantic or funny, but is instead a rare cinematic gem that is highly honest, emotional and entertaining.
The protagonist, Tom, writes greeting cards for a large company. Summer is his boss's new assistant. Tom instantly falls in love with her. Correction, he falls head over heals into a pot of burning hot desire. Problematically, her reciprocation never rises above lukewarm. This story is not about the fact that Tom and Summer eventually break-up, it is about the fact that Tom has no idea why. This becomes a very moving and poignant question due to the filmmaker's playful and sophisticated use of empathy.
Like a switch that can be turned on and off, the film sets conditions for empathy in such a way that the story gets under our skin. We cheer for Tom until we are hoarse, our eyes become wet with his despair.
There are two steps to utilizing empathy effectively in a tragic love story such as this. There needs to be a direct line of empathy between the characters and the audience, and a severed line between the characters within the narrative. Recall Romeo and Juliet. We come to appreciate the purity of love that develops between them and then recoil in horror as they misread each other's thoughts and feelings during the dual suicide climax.
The direct line is alive and humming between Tom and the audience, meaning, the conditions for empathy are primed. Empathy is the ability for person A to step inside the mind of person B, poke around and peek out into the world from that person's point of view. This is measured by how accurately one can discern and predict another's intentions/thoughts/feelings. As an audience, our grasp on Tom's mind becomes strong. We become expert mind-readers of him not because we are naturally expert mind-readers. Like major league hitting, reading someone with accuracy 30-35% of the time constitutes all-star empathy. But our collective batting average shoots into Hall of Fame territory, because the director, Marc Webb, utilizes three key factors involved in accurate mind-reading: shared experience, a similar interpretative filter and high readability.
Shared experience: This is when we know where someone is coming from, literally. The script develops Tom in such a way that he experiences the concrete things of which most of us are familiar. Who hasn't endured unrequited love? Who hasn't experienced the ever-widening gap between dreams and reality (Tom puts his dream of being an architect on the back burner for a less capitalistically challenging career in Corporate America)?
Shared interpretative filter: This is when we know where someone is coming from, figuratively. Tom is a very relatable and sympathetic figure. He is a mess of vulnerabilities, little more than a step removed from a Woody Allen prototype. He fears inadequacy, craves love and is consumed by self-doubt. These are universal needs. Further, when he tries to superglue his broken relationship with Summer back together, the only thing that does solidify are such universal aspirations as a deeper resolve for love and intimacy, greater self-efficacy and thicker skin.
Readability: Tom is as readable as an open book: His emotional states are laid out in very transparent terms. Love incites an emotional rollercoaster: the spike of elation and plateau of pride during the honeymoon phase, followed by the pang of anxiety and anger during the romantic disintegration phase. We have no problem mind-reading all this, because each emotion is captured neatly in an overly-dramatized scene. When elation is felt Tom tap dances all the way home...through a sunny park...amidst singing birds. Yes, he sings back. When anger is felt, he belligerently yells at affable, elderly bus drivers for playing feel-good romance songs.
Evidence that we have been covertly manipulated into expert mind-readers of Tom is found in the humor. When Tom yells at the bus driver, it is not funny. His character is neither witty funny, nor ha-ha funny. Yet, there are numerous laugh-out-loud moments sprinkled throughout, because a few seconds before Tom does the things that he does, we successfully predict it. Our nail-on-the-head anticipation and understanding of him is what makes his behavior humorous.
Every seemingly insignificant detail is designed to make Tom likable, relatable and vulnerable. This facilitates an emotional and cognitive concordance with the audience that strengthens our motivation and ability to understand him. The first step is complete.
With the empathic setup complete, stay tuned for the more tragic second step to be posted later this week.
