Lectio Praecursoria

My lectio praecursoria, i.e. the 20-minute lecture to be presented in the public defense of a doctoral dissertation, was recently published in Tahiti – taidehistoria tieteenä 2-3/2020, and will soon be published also in Thanatos 1/2021. Thanks to my co-conspirator Pauline Greenhill, I translated the lectio so that it would be accessible also to the English speaking readers. The translation was funded by The Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada‘s (SSHRC) grant number 435-2019-0691.

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Lectio Praecursoria presented at the successful public defence of dissertation “Gendered and Contagious Suicide: Taboo and Biopower in Contemporary Anglophone Cinematic Representations of Self-Willed Death” 2.10.2020, Jyväskylä

Venerable custos, honored opponent, esteemed guests,

In December 2017, the American YouTube entertainer and social media giant Logan Paul uploaded onto his YouTube channel a vlog shot at the Aokigahara forest, also known to Western audiences as the “haunted” suicide forest of Japan. Coming across a corpse of a suicide, the video captured Paul cracking jokes at the expense of suicide and the people whose lives had ended in the forest. In the vlog’s immediate reception, both Paul and YouTube as his platform, slow in its response to the video, were judged for disrespectful and derogatory behavior and for trying to monetize this sensational and click-worthy human tragedy. That the video caused a scandal could easily render the Paul case a singular exception to how suicide is generally discussed and represented in media and entertainment. Yet, studied as an extreme example of suicide’s position in the Western attention economy, the Paul case rather crystallizes some positionings that frequently recur in Western entertainment’s depiction and discussion of self-willed death.

Starting with seeking thrills from the haunted forest of Japan, Western entertainment regularly strays to Aokigahara or another similarly exotic or hair-raising setting to face the topic of suicide. Suicides touch the hearts and lives of many individual human beings across all socio-cultural divides, yet when it is presented in entertainment media, the topic is frequently addressed at a distance, through exoticizing frames and the context of horror. As such – as an exotic and spectacular death – suicide has gained a rather visible foothold in Western entertainment. To give an example from the heart of my research, Anglophone cinema witnesses approximately 250 new titles featuring self-willed death every year. The films included within this commercial mass, however, are notably rarely about suicide. More frequently,  suicide is featured in these films as a narrative instrument reduced to its shock value as a particular kind of bad death and as an affective spectacle, shaped by its history under Western institutions of morality, punishment and knowledge production. In this sense, reality – with its many lived life stories, experiences and emotions related to self-willed death – escapes suicide when it is represented and reiterated in Western entertainment.

Similar loss of lived realities is reflected also in the many mundane contexts where suicide appears as a metaphor. For instance, news headlines that I, as a scholar researching representations of suicide, have fortuitously encountered over the years, discuss the professional suicide of a news reporter, the geopolitical suicide of a Western nation and the suicide orbit of one of the moons of planet Jupiter. Many readers will have witnessed similar use in their daily encounters, where individuals not only use suicide as metaphor for their mundane struggles but also emphasize their words by lifting fingers up to their temples as an imitation of a self-inflicted shot to the head or by mimicking wrist-cutting with imaginary knives. Often such metaphoric use is intended to emphasize the weight of the issue discussed, but sometimes also to render it laughable as excessive or ridiculous.

The point, related to suicide’s use and manifestation in the Paul case as well, has surely become clear so far. When the vlog is approached through suicide’s conventional use as a shocking death – a macabre metaphor, attention grabber or narrative device – the vlog’s derogatory approach to self-willed death deviates only very little from the usual representation and discussion of suicide. More often than not, self-willed death is featured in a variety of contexts as if it were something other than a human tragedy or a complex individual, social and cultural phenomenon. Both as a concept and as an image, suicide is too frequently used in news media, entertainment and everyday discussions as merely a violent – either tragic or comic – spectacle, instrumental to some gain. At the same time, suicide remains a particular type of taboo in its socio-cultural contexts and in the media, when real life suicides and their bereavement are discussed; when we try to find fictitious or documentary narratives, where self-willed death would be discussed in depth as a human phenomenon.

Suicide’s tabooed status is testified for instance by a recent autobiographical Finnish-language book (Surun istukka, 2019) by Finnish translator Kaarina Huttunen. Having lost a daughter to suicide, in her book Huttunen affectively describes the stigma imprinted on her by this death. A mother’s mourning is made lonely and disenfranchised by the silence of both kin and strangers, who one after another turn their backs on her grief. Next to these lived life experiences of suicide’s taboo-ridden bereavement, this death’s prevailing ontology as a socio-cultural taboo is illustrated in the reception of Netflix series 13 Reasons Why, facing requests for censorship and silencing on its release in spring 2017. Of the many reasons for the moral panic surrounding the series, voiced or implicitly expressed between the lines, several were related to the fact that in the series the suicide of the protagonist, a seventeen-year-old girl, is studied particularly emphatically as a death that – instead of simply being presented as caused by madness – is shown as a planned decision caused by accumulated hardships.

The dynamic I seek to describe, related to the simultaneous visibility and invisibility of suicide in Western cultural discussions as a shocking death and a taboo, first caught my attention fall 2011. I then graduated from University of Jyväskylä with an awarded master’s thesis in which I had studied suicide’s appearances in visual artistic modernism and postmodernism. As one of the results of my thesis, I recognized suicide could be considered a “pornified” death, based on how it was depicted in some works of art belonging to my corpus, referring to wider culture’s appropriation of the aesthetic pertinent to the “body genre” of pornography (Nikunen et al, 2017, Williams 1991) or its “romanticism” with spectacular deaths (Aaron, 2014). Using the theory of British sociologist Geoffrey Gorer, this “pornography of death” could be seen to illustrate the phenomenon where a socio-cultural taboo was in art or culture represented in graphic ways aiming to provoke reactions in the viewers or readers, without effects on the tabooed nature of the topics thus represented.

Moving on to accomplish a doctorate, in my doctoral dissertation I wanted to direct my gaze on this dynamic according to which suicide could be argued to have been “pornified” in contemporary art and culture while still maintaining its ontology as a silenced, stigmatized and shame-ridden death. I wanted to center in particular on self-willed death’s nature as a taboo, as a result of which I dived deep into the conceptual history and theory of taboo in the discipline of anthropology. I also ended up using the Foucauldian theory of biopower. These two concepts, taboo and biopower, could be considered as symmetrical in that both refer to normative and classificatory systems and mechanisms of control and knowledge production that seek to regulate individuals’ bodies, sexuality and deaths – self-willed deaths included.

Today, approximately nine years later, I am standing before you ready to defend a dissertation in which these two theories form the analytical backbone for my scrutiny of how suicide is represented in contemporary Anglophone cinema. In the dissertation, by employing discourse analysis, semiology and visual analysis I examine contemporary cinematic representations of self-willed death with theoretically oriented considerations of taboo and biopower, as I try to understand how Anglophone films make sense of this death. The research materials are a corpus of 50 Anglophone feature films produced between 1985 and 2014. For the four research articles, constituting my dissertation alongside a theoretical introduction, I also conducted three case studies of the films Unfriended (2014), Vanilla Sky (2001) and The Moth Diaries (2011) as well as of the first season of the Netflix series 13 Reasons Why (2017), each seeming to crystallize a fundamental principle about the topic of my dissertation.

The research questions guiding my dissertation are qualitative and query how the chosen cinematic representations of suicide participate in the practices of self-willed death’s biopowered regulation on the one hand and how these representations both reflect and renew suicide’s tabooed position on the other. In other words, I examine the kinds of cultural meanings of suicide that are created through its commercial cinematic representations: What kind of death does suicide appear as, when we consider for instance the films’ reiterating ways of representing characters who either die by suicide or are susceptible to it? Or: What kinds of chains of events lead characters to contemplate or accomplish suicide in these films? Or: In what ways do the films feature self-willed death as part of their narration?

In several ways my dissertation bolsters the presumptions regarding suicide’s pornification, that I depicted as having raised my interest on the topic. Yet many of the cinematic ways the so-called “pornography” of suicide manifested were surprising. For instance, in my analysis I witnessed suicide’s gendering and sexualization: the suicides and suicidality of female and male characters were depicted in different ways depending on their gender. As social philosopher Katrina Jaworski describes, the general understanding of self-willed death connects suicide to masculinity as one of the manifestations of male violence. Yet in my analysis, suicides were visually embodied especially through female characters. This paradox caused me to focus in particular on the ways suicide was in varied ways attached to femininity in the films studied.

In order to better understand how the evident gendering occurred in a field that featured what appeared to be an even number, in terms of gender, of self-harming characters, I chose to apply Durkheim’s typology differentiating between egoistic and altruistic suicides. The notion of suicide cinema’s gendering also led to the adoption of theoretical approaches pertinent to gender studies, especially those drawing on feminist and queer theories. In short, I noticed that when a death was not depicted as beneficial to the community – as it would be for an honorable sacrifice in the war field, typed altruistic in the Durkheimian scale – the films tended to focus on female characters’ “egoistic” suicides. The gendered characters were also offered gendered motifs for killing themselves: the suicides by female characters were connected to their bodies, emotions and sexuality, and rendered understandable based on alleged feminine irrationality and weakness. When they recovered, it was because of significant help from other characters or a rescue by heterosexual romance, whereas male characters were also offered rational reasons and even possibilities for recovery on their own.

I also noticed that the self-destructive storylines of female and male characters were intertwined in parallel narratives, where main characters often survived at the expense of side characters killing themselves. Often the protagonists were male, and the side characters female, and their relationships heteroromantic, like for instance in such high-profile productions such as Vanilla Sky (2001) or Inception (2010). In both films, the suicidal spirals of male characters, studied through abstractions and metaphors, are rendered explicable through the suicides of their female lovers whose minds have been disturbed. Other kinds of parallel narratives could also be found, for instance from box office hit Girl, Interrupted (1999), where a young woman diagnosed as borderline personality recovers in a mental institution among male psychiatrists, female nurses, and teenage girls manifesting a variety of different mental disorders, having been made vulnerable by promiscuous relationships to boys and men.

Central to most films I studied appeared to be suicide’s instrumentality to maintaining a binary conception of gender and the hetero norm of love relationships. Most glaring examples of this were those films where suicide was connected to homosexual characters or LGBTQI2S+ figures, who were often, as if punished for their allegedly deviant sexuality at the end of the film with suicide, loaded with the value of spectacular, violent and bad death. Atom Egoyan’s whodunnit Where the Truth Lies (2005) stands as testimony of this type of use for suicide with its besieged self-willed death of a bisexual murder suspect with compromised means for protecting his reputation. The manifestations of the stereotypical male violence were in the films treated in varied ways from empathic to ridiculing, yet their most exemplary forms could be discovered from the deaths of so-called villains, who were similarly punished with suicide. Such is evident, for instance, in The Shawshank Redemption (1994) where the suicide of a corrupt prison warden closes the film along with the protagonists’ escapes to freedom.

As these cinematic illustrations I have brought up might already have given away, next to self-willed death’s gendering, another important discovery I made in my analysis was related to suicide’s medicalization in the cinematic corpus studied. Suicides were often made sense of with diagnoses, pertinent to medical knowledge production, as well as to their popularized versions: vernacular depictions of madness. At their most medicalized, the films studied suicide in institutionalized settings like the aforementioned Girl, Interrupted, or in other similar contexts such as The Sixth Sense (1999), where a murder-suicide by a schizophrenic patient to the child psychiatrist protagonist opens the film. In opposition to such diagnostic, and often quite pejorative, depictions of madness, willingness to understand suicidality, when it was connected to depression, sometimes also facilitated even empathic interpretations of self-willed death, as for instance in Tom Ford’s acclaimed A Single Man (2009).

Although many films also offered possibilities for reading these representations against the grain, or even in significant ways reiterated some of the conventions in representing suicide against the norm, I deduced that cinema tends to represent suicide in ways that participate in its marginalization and stigmatization. As hinted in my opening lines to this talk, rare were the narratives about suicide which showed interest in self-willed death as a human phenomenon, in opposition to the wealth of films rendering suicide a mere narrative instrument.

Both marginalization and stigmatization can be connected to taboo and biopower, which rely on normative and classificatory mechanisms of knowledge production as means to regulate individuals’ bodies and deaths. The medical mechanisms of knowledge production and the dominant discourses regulating gender and sexuality have already been exposed in the context of biopower. The connection to taboo – a less popular field of study – instead, manifested particularly clearly in the reception of 13 Reasons Why.  The Netflix series was subjected to the aforementioned volatile discussion alongside requests for censorship, that extended from cutting out the show’s suicide scene and amending the age limits to discourage the young audiences from viewing, to prohibiting the series’ discussion in some Anglo-American schools.

The series was criticized by medical specialists for its limited representation of medical diagnoses and treatments and for representing the suicide of the protagonist under too rationalist a lens, among other flaws. For these and other reasons, various authorities feared the series would cause a wave of imitated suicides – a suicide contagion – among its young audiences. As it was connected to these authorities’ simultaneous criticism of suicide’s insufficient connection to depression, suggestive of audio-visual fiction’s dominance by such institutions of knowledge that bespeak of biopower and whose hold over art and culture could be questioned, to me this fear of contagion was symptomatic of self-willed death’s biopower-regulated and tabooed ontology, suggestive of the regulation and censorship directed at suicide’s manifestation in popular culture.

These suicide contagion arguments were made particularly thought-provoking in anthropological theories. In this discipline, taboo has a complex theoretical history as a normative structure seeking to protect the so-called social body from specific kinds of risks and dangers. This structure is empowered by ideas of dirt and contagion in instances where classificatory borders and collectively agreed values are threatened or breached. Fascinatingly, it is this selfsame fear of contagion that helped the pre-war era anthropologists, burdened by a colonialist baggage, deem taboo a primitive structure in opposition to Western rationality. It could also be argued these prejudices can make it hard for many contemporary viewers to recognize the regulation of taboo happening in contemporary culture, including in the context of pornified self-willed death.

So what, you may enquire: why is this all valuable? My research constellation, that recognizes the effect of the normative structures of biopower and taboo on how suicide is represented, arises from a paradigm central to cultural studies, which witnesses cultural discourses’ influence over human lives. The repetitive conventions for representing or discussing suicide hold tremendous influence over how we perceive self-willed death or react towards individuals expressing suicidality in their lives. These representations can also affect the individuals battling against suicide in varied ways. My discoveries of marginalization and stigmatization are made particularly significant by the recognition that taboo, shame, guilt and the closely related fear of being stigmatized are among the reasons that might discourage individuals considering suicide from seeking help. In studying biopower’s and taboo’s effect on suicide’s representation, we are specifically discussing the popular cultural production of such modes of being, that are made to look abnormal, unnatural, bad, filthy and shameful.

Thus, in particular triggered by the discussions related to 13 Reasons Why, I find it necessary to close my talk with an emphatic question for the viewers and producers of suicide cinema alike: why is an empathic representation of self-willed death – finding many reasons for suicide – considered more problematic as cinema’s reiterating manner of representing suicide than, for instance, a comic spectacle or a narrative instrument for punishing women, sexual minorities or villains. At their best, the fiction of art and culture could be argued to provide nodes of identification also for such individuals who find it hard to discover themselves in the norms and ideals constructed by the biopower-regulated society. Whether in considering the diagnostic, gendering or other dominant modes of representation, holding fiction in their reins, their excessive normativity and stigmatization can easily become more problematic than stray empathy.

Honored Opponent, docent Leena-Maija Rossi, I now call upon you to present your critical comments on my dissertation.

References

Aaron, M. 2014. “Cinema and Suicide,” in Death and Moving Image. Ideology, Iconography and I. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 40-68.

Durkheim, É. 1897. Suicide: A Study in Sociology (trans. J.A. Spaulding & G. Simpson 1951, reprint 1966). New York: Free Press.

Gorer, G. 1955. “The Pornography of Death,” in G. Gorer (ed.) Death, Grief & Mourning in Contemporary Britain, 1965. London: The Crescent Press, 169–175.

Huttunen, K. 2019. Surun Istukka. Helsinki: Schildts & Söderströms.

Jaworski, K. 2014. The Gender of Suicide: Knowledge Production, Theory and Suicidology. Aldershot: Ashgate Publishing Limited.

Nikunen, K., Paasonen, S. & Saarenmaa, L. 2007. Pornification: Sex and sexuality in media culture. Oxford: Berg.

Williams, L. 1991. “Film Bodies: Gender, Genre, and Excess,” Film Quarterly 44(4): 2-13.


Väitöskirjan tarkastustilaisuus 2.10.2020 / Public defence October 2 2020

Allekirjoittaneen, eli FM Heidi Kososen taidehistorian väitöskirjan “Gendered and Contagious Suicide: Taboo and Biopower in Contemporary Anglophone Cinematic Representations of Self-Willed Death” tarkastustilaisuus pidetään perjantaina 2.10.2020 alkaen klo 12.00. Vastaväittäjänä toimii yliopistonlehtori, FT Leena-Maija Rossi (Helsingin yliopisto) ja kustoksena professori emerita Annika Waenerberg (Jyväskylän yliopisto). Väitöstilaisuuden kieli on suomi.

Väitös on verkkovälitteinen. Yleisö voi seurata tilaisuutta verkosta, osoitteessa https://r.jyu.fi/dissertation-kosonen-021020

Väitöskirjasta on julkaistu suomenkielinen tiedote Jyväskylän yliopiston sivuilla: https://www.jyu.fi/fi/ajankohtaista/arkisto/2020/08/2-10-2020-fm-heidi-kosonen-humanistis-yhteiskuntatieteellinen-tiedekunta-taidehistoria

Englanninkielinen väitöskirja on myös kokonaisuudessaan luettavissa JYX-julkaisuarkistossa: http://urn.fi/URN:ISBN:978-951-39-8313-0

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MA Heidi Kosonen defends her doctoral dissertation in Art History “Gendered and Contagious Suicide: Taboo and Biopower in Contemporary Anglophone Cinematic Representations of Self-Willed Death”. Opponent is senior lecturer, FT Leena-Maija Rossi (University of Helsinki) and custos is professor emerita Annika Waenerberg (University of Jyväskylä).

The doctoral dissertation is held in Finnish. The audience can follow the event online, the link to the defence is: https://r.jyu.fi/dissertation-kosonen-021020.

The English-language dissertation has been published online in the University of Jyväskylä publication series and can be accessed through this link: http://urn.fi/URN:ISBN:978-951-39-8313-0

An approaching defence and a new blog series from Jytte

It’s a busy fall! I’ll be defending my doctoral dissertation of Art History (visual studies) in two weeks, October 2. I’m honored by having Ph.D., Docent, Senior Lecturer and the pioneer in Finnish visual studies Leena-Maija Rossi act as my opponent in the defence.

There will be a Finnish-language press release coming out next week. At the same time my English-language dissertation, “Gendered and Contagious Suicide: Taboo and Biopower in Contemporary Anglophone Cinematic Representations of Self-Willed Death”, will be published online in the University of Jyväskylä publishing series.

Before the press release and the dissertation see the light of day, more details of my approaching (Finnish-language and livestreamed) defence can be found from here: https://www.jyu.fi/en/current/archive/2020/08/2-10-2020-fm-heidi-kosonen-faculty-of-humanities-and-social-sciences-art-history

Another exciting thing that will be published next week is the first blog post to Jytte’s new blog series edited by myself and Melissa Plath from Researchers and Teachers of Jyväskylä.

In the blog series, invited writers representing the University of Jyväskylä community comment and reflect on the academic effects of the COVID-19 pandemic from both critical and reparative perspectives. The texts are published in Jyttes’s blog biweekly, starting September 25 with Panu Moilanen‘s text dealing with virtual teaching.

Me and Melissa introduced the entire sevenfold blog series in an introduction that can be accessed through the following link: https://tieteentekijat.fi/en/covid-19-learning-lessons-introduction-to-a-sevenfold-blog-series/?fbclid=IwAR3_OG_u7sKF-e48cVGrnbLo2igq0d69-UROMuhhP4szDx3RnUsoeOHyGj4

On the Controversies Surrounding 13 Reasons Why Through On-screen Suicides from Summer 2019

This text is a consideration of recent high-profile cases of cinema and television, HBO’s Chernobyl, Netflix’s Stranger Things, Ari Aster’s Midsommar and others, that might offer insight into the elongated controversy surrounding Netflix series 13 Reasons Why. It is written from my perspective in humanities as a researcher studying suicide’s visual cultural representations.

Valery Legasov (Jared Harris) in his search for truth in HBO’s Chernobyl (2019)

HBO’s acclaimed miniseries Chernobyl (2019) starts with the suicide of its male protagonist, Soviet era scientist Valery Legasov (Jared Harris). The self-willed death ends a sequence with the scientist, held in custody, reciting his memoirs of the governmental cover-up leading to the disastrous near-meltdown of the nuclear reactor at Chernobyl. “What is the cost of lies? It’s not that we’ll mistake them for the truth?,” he recites the central question of the series to his tape recorder. After having finished his account, he hides the cassettes from the KGB at the disguise of taking out the trash, and — back at his apartment — smokes one last cigarette, places enough milk bowls on the floor for his cat to survive over few days, checks his watch and then steps into the void, hanging himself at the exact moment of the power plant accident two years earlier. His suicide, that both opens and closes the series, intimates an honourable scientist’s despair in a rotten system as well as marks his resistance to it. In the series’s diegesis his death also gains strategic visibility to his cause: revealing the truth suppressed by the Soviet government so that similar nuclear plant accidents might be avoided in the future.

In another streaming service, Netflix, the third season of sci-fi series Stranger Things (2019) closes with the remaining characters mourning the loss of two central male characters, Billy and Hopper. Both sacrifice themselves in the season’s last episode in order to stop The Mind Flayer, the transmuting monster of the series, taking over the little town Hawkins, and thus reiterate the heroism of Eleven (Millie Bobby Brown), the girl-protagonist, in the series’ first battle against The Mind Flayer at the end of the first season. In an earlier blog-post, I considered this scene’s glorified iconography, which fitted into the cinematic regime of sacrificial “altruistic” suicides, often separated from the so-called suicides proper, or “egoistic” suicides.(1) These sacrificial deaths are often gendered masculine in western popular culture, so as a young female character’s action Eleven’s pseudo-death catched eyes as unusual. In the third season’s closure, however, the “gender of sacrifice” has been restored, similarly to the aforementioned Chernobyl where the male protagonist’s suicide (this time egoistic, although bearing some of the glory of sacrifice in addition to his despair) marks his integrity at the face of Soviet government’s fatal lies. Billy, swayed by the evil, redeems himself with his voluntary death, whereas Hopper’s self-sacrifice is a that of a wholehearted family man.

One of Stranger Thing’s third season’s (2019) two self-sacrificing male heroes, Billy (Dacre Montgomery)

On the silver screen instead, after these two examples of television, Ari Aster’s horror film Midsommar (2019) starts with the female protagonist Dani (Florence Pugh) panicking over an alarming email sent by her bipolar sister. The sister has, as is soon releaved, committed a murder-suicide with exhaust fumes, leaving Dani orphaned at the death of her entire family. This shocking and violent death serves as the backdrop of the trippy film’s psychological horror, as the thematics of disenfranchised mourning, of grief that cannot be grieved, (2) manifest throughout the film. The suppressed sorrow, related to the stigmatized death of suicide also in real life, follows Dani from the US to Sweden, where she participates the exotic midsummer festivities with her boyfriend and his buddies. Here we see Dani, haunted by unwanted images of her family’s death, swallowing her sorrow in her dysfunctional relationship and her detached social encounters only to eventually let the suppressed emotion erupt at the strange rituals of the Hårgan cult she is being incorporated into.

Suicide is in Midsommar connected to mental illness, yet also to pagan faith, as it features in the Hårgan rituals as an altruistic death; as a death setting the social collective above the individual. Unlike Chernobyl’s or Stranger Things‘s individual deaths however, it remains fearful rather than glorified, as it is connected to strangeness through both mental illness and cultist mentality, and through the film’s distancing of the ritual suicide to “exotic Sweden”. Yet if in these aspects Midsommar, like most audio-visual culture, partakes in suicide’s marginalization as something no “sane” individual would think or commit (unless endowed with the mentioned sacrificial quality, which renders the death as something more than the regular “murder of self” referred with the concept “suicide”), the movie appears to witness the need to connect and mourn. It also appears to take a tentatively non-judging stance towards some of the individual deaths depicted in the film. After all, for the protagonist Dani the permission to feel (and to belong), withheld in her country of origin yet given to her by the Hårgans, who indifferently kill both themselves and others, imply a happy end in a similar sense The Wicker Man‘s (1973) ritual murder does: in this influential predecessor to Midsommar the conservative protagonist Sergeant Howie (Edward Woodward) suffers an immolation in a ritual fire, which is similarly ambiguous as a death renewing the social collective in the universe of the film.

Dani (Florence Pugh) letting it all out in Ari Aster’s Midsommar (2019)

All three instances of audiovisual culture from summer 2019 are quite interesting in their depiction of suicide, whose cinematic representation and regulation is my main interest in my research. Unlike is often thought of the tabooed death, popular culture featuring suicide is far from low-profile or hard to find. For instance, next to these aforementioned high-profile examples, that serve my essay as random encounters rather than as closely picked illustrations, HBO recommends the viewers of Chernobyl to follow it up with another mini-series Sharp Objects (2018), an acclaimed narrative of female self-harm and violence based on Gillian Flynn’s study of female monstrosity in her novel of the same name. And right after pushing out the third season of Stranger Things, focused on everyman characters’ death-defying heroism, Netflix has released the third season of 13 Reasons Wh, it’s controversial first season (2017) similarly known for the link drawn between mental illness, sexual violence and girlhood self-harm to Sharp Objects, and similarly to Midsommar following the protagonist’s (this time: male’s) recovery from a state of suicide’s disenfranchised mourning.

Of course, 13 Reasons Why, based on Jay Asher’s novel of the same name and narrating the reasons for a sexually assaulted young girl’s (Katherine Langford) suicide through 13 cassette tapes delivered to her peers and her could-have-been-sweetheart Clay (Dylan Minnette), has occupied headlines ever since its premier. It has done so also recently, after the makers’ decision to first cut out the first season’s suicide scene and then to cancel the series after the fourth season, scheduled to come out 2020. In the series’s publication in spring 2017 several agents, from mental health experts to parents and suicide survivors, criticized the series for its romanticization of suicide, for the triggering nature of the graphic rape and suicide scenes, and for the downplaying of the role of mental health and recovery, among other factors. The decicision, that follows this discussion, is based on a recent paper reporting an increase in the suicide rates among American boys aged 10-17 after the release of the first season of 13 Reason Why. (3)

Hannah Baker’s (Katherine Langford) suicide scene got deleted from 13 Reasons Why (2017)

What might these examples tell us of the representation of suicide? Firstly, although the controversy surrounding 13 Reasons Why since its premier to this day, speaking of the sensitive nature of this death, might not imply, audio-visual popular culture’s representations of self-willed death are many and everywhere. Secondly, in looking at their quality, these representations are often differentiated from one another as glorified and demoted deaths, (4) that are often repetetive of similar gendered myths about heroism or self-killing. Often these two are conceptually differentiated as “sacrificial deaths” and “suicides”, where their evaluation follows the Durkheimian line dividing “altruistic” suicides commited for, or ordained by, the social collective from the domain of more individualistic “egoistic” suicides, yet their glorification/demotion also has a clear gendered aspect.

In my excerpts, for instance, we can witness self-willed death’s gendering in stories about heroic agency and victimhood: the deaths endowed an amount of glory as deaths with which something admirable is achieved, are almost without exception gendered masculine (and connected to male agency), (5) as in Chernobyl or in Stranger Things‘s latest season. The ones that do not so easily cross the edges of glory are instead often victimized in survival stories bearing allusions, if not explicit diagnoses, to the vague umbrella category of “mental illness”, like in Sharp Objects (or 13 Reasons Why) where alcoholism and depression, related to sexual abuse, represent the more understanding siding of suicide and self-harm with mental illness. In these kinds of portrayals the suiciding character can also be male, yet on-screen suicides thus “passivized” are more commonly connected to female characters and attributes. (6)

Horror film Midsommar (although ambiguous in its moral stance), instead represents the harshest side of suicidal mental illness’ representation in its amount of shock value, as it associates to both psychopathology and murder through which it gains terrifying agency, and is visually depicted through the domain of “the disgusting”. As mentioned, the representation here is particularly marginalizing in its depiction of difference, but also most “medicalizing” representations of suicide could be seen to be that as normative discourses about anormalcy.

Camille (Amy Adams) epitomizing female self-harm in Sharp Objects (2018)

The aforementioned instances of recent audio-visual popular culture also offer a tool with which to comment the controversy surrounding 13 Reasons Why and its suicide scene (again, for I have written about the controversy also in this finnish-language blog post when it first arose). They could be seen to imply that in many senses — such as in its gendering take on suicide and in its storyline of depression — also 13 Reason Why‘s controversial depiction of voluntary death is a fairly “tame” or “conventional” one, even if it has been singled out as particularly dangerous. And although the discussion surrounding the series has targeted in particular the series’s argued romanticization of suicide, it is quite conventional even in this aspect especially when the whole range of self-willed death’s representations are considered. It could even be considered less glorifying than for instance the honorable suicide of the lone scientist in Chernobyl. Why the series stands out is mostly because it is a high-profile drama starring a suiciding female protagonist whose diagnostic death is rationalized through the titular thirteen reasons. Although the controversy, and the eventual deletion of the suicide scene, are based on certain issues with the series, its reception is also heavily value-laden and gendered.

In its pronounced core issues, suicide’s romanticization and its representation as a death “resulting from reasoned action“, that in particular the criticism of the muted role of medical diagnoses and solutions represents, the removal of the graphic suicide scene two years later does not remove the problem pointed out by the series’s critics. In digital culture, the decision to censor the scene after years of streaming is also more symbolic than pragmatic: it mostly makes a point and sets an example for what kind of representations of the sensitive death are to be avoided and censored in the future, since the controversial content has in this instance already spread from its original context to become an unerasable part of the social media fabric. This position — that of a precedent — motivates me to speak in defence of the series’s representation again, although it is never uncomplicated to take a stance for something accused of inseminating death among young people, even when this causality is in the category of “we do not know for sure” and the grounds for the controversy problematic.

As mentioned, in this occasion the decision to remove the suicide scene follows a reported increase in the suicide rates among American boys aged 10-17. Yet it also responds to suicide’s tabooed position. In particular it does so in the first season’s criticism of suicide’s presentation as something other than “irrational,” which proposes an anomalous position for the death historically viewed as dangerous. I have studied the connection between taboo and the series’ reception further in my Finnish-speaking article, (7) where I discuss the similarities between this anthropological structure, relying on fears of contagion in its domestication of cultural threaths, and “suicide contagion”, the phenomenon studied by sosiologists, psychologists and public health scientists affecting also 13 Reason Why’s reception and cricitism. (8) The censorious reception is based on fear more than studied fact, and also inseminates those fears further — of the “inexplicable death” and of this death’s representation’s “media effects,” which too easily take the form of the hypodermic needle theory, where audiences are seen as mere non-autonomous victims for media’s messages. The actions based on the criticism of suicide’s presentation without explicit labels of mental illness also seek to normalize suicide’s presentation as a shameful, silenced condition, as they marginalize self-harm and suicidal thoughts by presenting them as anomalies of the mind enacted by individuals diagnozed as different.

These theories related to fictitious suicide’s feared copy-cat effect are not uncontested in the scientific field. (9) As also the commentaries following the removal have noted, the correlation between a fictitious representation and an increase in real-world suicides does not necessarily imply a causality. (10) Studies such as these are particularly complicated and here continue to provide conflicting results. (11) In this instance, the reported increase in boys’ suicides also defies the tentative models where suicidal imitation has been explained with gendered identification with the suiciding character. (12) Some recent studies (although they have studied the joint effect of the first two seasons of the series) have even seen 13 Reasons Why to decrease thoughts related to harming or killing oneself (13), as well as to increase empathy in its viewers and augment respondents’ willingness to discuss mental-health issues with others. (14) The series is thus not so simply detrimental, and there might be also other reasons for the reported increase in suicides other than 13 Reasons Why or it’s graphic scene featuring a female protagonist’s self-willed death. For instance, the series features also victimized male side-characters considering or attempting suicide, and their representation is closer to “egoistic suicides’s” conventional passivizing and instrumental representations.

The controversy surrounding the series has been beneficial in that it has opened a discussion about suicide, mental illness and their on-screen representations. Depictions of suicide fill our screens in uncountable numbers and not all of them survive the daylight as “ethical” — not even 13 Reasons Why, which troubles also me in some of its guilt-tripping and spectacular aspects and in particular in its soundtrack selection for the suicide sequence. Yet it is alarming to see this series, not only listing an amount of understandable reasons for the still stigmatized death but also witnessing their accumulation to the point where life’s hardships start to feel unbearable, made a warning example in the elongated controversy surrounding it. I see the series’s detailed narration of suicide’s reasons from first-person perspective also as an asset, not as a simple threat, because in doing so it offers such understanding on self-willed death that individuals struggling with suicide, its stigma and taboo might need. In particular in considering discursively constructed shame’s relationship to self-willed death, (15) it would feel important not to merely condemn but also to support the series’s dramatic representation of suicide as it does not marginalize and stigmatize the condition as many others do, but instead seeks to understand it.

It must be added my point of view in this essay is affected by my background in studying suicide’s representations from the perspectives of humanities and visual culture (and theories of related to suicide’s tabooed status), which give a different perspective also to estimating the possible effects of suicide’s representation. In opposition to a background in the medical sciences my gaze is not affected by focus on representations’ direct effects, but rather on suicide’s narrative uses and on how our popular discourses shape how self-willed death and suicidal individuals are perceived and understood, which can affect the lived reality also indirectly and through the accumulation of (various kinds of) representations. For this reason I’m not often worried of single instances of media representation, but rather of the wider popular cultural trends in which suicide is treated — thus taking a social-constructivist approach to the topic, which sees lived reality shaped by our reiterating (and often affective) interpretations of it.

From this perspective 13 Reasons Why here also offers a welcome balance to the existing conventions in few different senses. More often than understandingly told through a protagonist, suicide is in Western popular culture reduced into it’s shock value (as is no doubt done also in horror film Midsommar, despite the ambivalence that can be read out of it). In some cultural theories (interesting also me in my work) death’s treatment in such “pornographic” representations focusing on violent death has been feared to lead to the almost fictitious nature of death (suicide included) in a culture distanced from the realities of dying and death. (16) Death’s fictivization is hinted, for instance, in the Logan Paul controversy, January, 2018, when the high-profile YouTube vlogger caused outrage in joking at the expense of a real-world suicide victim found in Aokihagara, the Japanese “suicide forest” often exotized in white fiction as horror film trope. Joking at the expense of a suicide victim takes a certain level of suicide’s and suiciding individuals’s dehumanization, and their constant othering, marginalization and suicide’s instrumentalization as a narrative ploy (opening, closing and changing the direction of our audiovisual narratives) in Western popular culture could be seen to contribute to this.

For same reasons I also continue to be thoughtful of the gendered and medicalized representative regime which more often passivizes egoistic suicide on screen as (quite often feminine) mental illness rather than studies its reasons and the agency it also takes to take ones life, so as to make suicide so “effeminate” a sign of divergence, that when a culprit for a real-world suicide can be found from a female monster instead of a male suicide, it becomes strangely easy to accuse a living, breathing teenage girl of murder in one of our mediatized scapegoat rituals. Next to Chernobyl and Sharp Objects, HBO has recently published a two-piece documentary on the Death of Conrad Roy, I Love You, Now Die: The Commonwealth vs. Michelle Carter (2019), which offers an interesting and quite unique example not only of suicide’s on-screen romanticization but of how the conceptions circulated in our portrayals of suicide (closely intervowen with our conventions for representing gender) are reflected in a legal case against a 17-year-old girl for inciting her depressed boyfriend to kill himself.

I came to write this text in order to think with the recent representations and media events related to representing suicide, the latest turns with the Netflix-series’s 13 Reasons Why being one of them. Closing with these two media events, the Logan Paul controversy and the mediatization of the death of Conrad Roy, is a way of thinking with these materials without anything certain to say, but also a way to state there are also more questions related to representing suicide aside the feared media effects that have been requiring column space in the controversies surrounding the single demonized instance of 13 Reasons Why.


Some references:

[1] Émile Durkheim, Suicide: A Study in Sociology (The Free Press: New York, 1966).

[2] Kenneth J. Doka, “Disenfranchised grief,” Bereavement Care vol. 18, No. 3 (1999): 37-39.

[3] Jeffrey A. Bridge et al, ”Association Between the Release of Netflix’s 13 Reasons Why and Suicide Rates in the United States: An Interrupted Time Series Analysis,” Journal of the American Academy of Child & Adolescent Psychiatry 28.4.2019.

[4] Stephen Stack and Barbara Bowman, Suicide Movies: Social Patterns 1900–2009 (Toronto: Hogrefe, 2012).

[5] e.g. Michele Aaron, Death and the moving image: ideology, iconography and I  (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2014).

[6] Heidi Kosonen, “Hollywoodin nekromanssi. Naisen ruumiiseen kiinnittyvä itsemurha elokuvien sukupuolipolitiikkana,” Sukupuoli ja väkivalta: lukemisen etiikkaa ja politiikkaa, edited by Sanna Karkulehto & Leena-Maija Rossi (Helsinki: SKS, 2017): 95–119.

[7] Heidi S. Kosonen, “Itsemurhatartunnan taikauskosta: The Moth Diaries (2011) ja 13 Reasons Why (2017)Tahiti, no. 2 (2018): 34-49.

[8] David J. Phillips, “The Influence of Suggestion on Suicide: Substantive and Theoretical Implications of the Werther Effect,” American Sociological Review vol. 39, no. 3 (1974): 340–54.

[9] Gijin Cheng et al, ”Suicide Contagion: A Systematic Review of Definitions and Research Utility,” PLoS ONE vol. 9, no. 9 (2014): 1–9.

[10] Alan L. Berman, “Fictional depiction of suicide in television films and imitation effects,” The American Journal of Psychiatry vol. 145, no. 8 (1988): 982–85.

[11] James N. Baron and Peter C. Reiss, “Same Time, Next Year: Aggregate Analysis of the Mass Media and Violent Behavior,” American Sociological Review vol. 50, no. 3 (1985): 347–63; James B. Hittner, “How Robust is the Werther Effect? A Re-examination of the suggestion-imitation model of suicide,” Mortality vol. 10, no. 3 (2005): 193–200.

[12] Benedikt Till et al, “Who Identifies with Suicidal Film Characters? Determinants of Identification With Suicidal Protagonists of Drama Films,” Psychiatria Danubina vol. 25, No. 2 (2013): 158-162.

[13] Florian Arendt et al, “Investigating harmful and helpful effects of watching season 2 of 13 Reasons Why: Results of a two-wave U.S. panel survey,” Social Science & Medicine vol. 232, July (2019): 489-498.

[14] “Exploring how teens, young adults and parents responded to
13 Reasons Why
,” Report by Northwestern: Center on Media and Human Development, March 2018.

[15] e.g. Barry Lyons and Luna Dolezal, “Shame, stigma and medicine,” Medical Humanities vol. 43, no. 4 (2017): 208–10; D.H. Buie and J.T. Maltsberger, ”The Psychological Vulnerability to Suicide,” Suicide: Understanding and Responding, edited by D. Jacobs and N. Brown (Madison: International Universities Press, 1989), 59–71.

[16] e.g. Geoffrey Gorer, “The Pornography of Death,” Encounter, October (1955): 49-52; Jon Stratton, “Death and the Spectacle in Television and Social Media,” Television & New Media, November (2018).