The following is a textbook definition of the single most important aspect of, among many things, reading a book, enjoying poetry, or attending a theatre production.
“Suspension of disbelief or "willing suspension of disbelief" is a formula named as such in English by the poet and aesthetic philosopher Samuel Taylor Coleridge to justify the use of fantastic or non-realistic elements in literature. Coleridge suggested that if a writer could infuse a "human interest and a semblance of truth" into a fantastic tale, the reader would suspend judgment concerning the implausibility of the narrative.
“The phrase "suspension of disbelief" came to be used more loosely in the later 20th century, often used to imply that the onus was on the reader, rather than the writer, to achieve it. It might be used to refer to the willingness of the audience to overlook the limitations of a medium, so that these do not interfere with the acceptance of those premises. According to the theory, suspension of disbelief is a quid pro quo: the audience tacitly agrees to provisionally suspend their judgment in exchange for the promise of entertainment. These fictional premises may also lend to the engagement of the mind and perhaps proposition of thoughts, ideas, art and theories.”
Now, if you’re still reading I applaud you. More than one of my readers has said to me, “Eh….I saw that it was long and wordy so I didn’t read it.” Honestly, I don’t care. I blog for me.
I recently attended a revival production of the critically acclaimed 1967 Tribal Love-Rock musical Hair. I could not have been more surprised at how much I loved it! The only things I knew about the show were what I had heard from those who saw the first run (my parents age) and what I saw at the Tony’s last year. I didn’t think that Hair had anything that would appeal to my mostly (but not entirely) gilded-proscenium love affair with stuffy, golden aged, mid-western and South Pacific set, and overly dramatic musicals.
From the opening song I was emotionally involved. No, I do not have any sort of attachment to Aquarius, but I could not help the fact that I cried. Just a little. Don’t judge. This happens to me all the time. I think it has something to do with seeing another human put their entire being into a few short hours of quality entertainment. I would give anything to be able to do that every day. I think that will always be one of those missed opportunities sitting way back in the “what if” section of my mind.
As long as you have a strong suspension of disbelief it is impossible to be bored, harder to judge, and much easier to love anything that you are reading or watching. We are certainly not living in the turbulent time of the 1960’s, but it did make for an interesting, if not allegorical, juxtaposition. The show is the first Broadway musical in some time to have the authentic voice of today rather than the day before yesterday.
