Horrible (SPOILERS)

I began this post moments after watching the final part of Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog, but decided to postpone publishing it until the 20th, to minimize unintentional spoilage.

At first, the climax of Part III seemed a bit incongruous with the tone set by the first two acts. Perhaps the musical medium and witty humor lulled me into a false sense of security, as far as the plot goes. But the pathos of the conclusion--its sheer cathartic power--seems to redefine the first two acts, tempering the silliness of the first act and the comedic and emotional crescendo of the second with a hauntingly chill resonance. The ultimate effect on the viewer is both, well, horrible and beautiful at the same time.

Joss Whedon has acquired a reputation for plots laden with gut-punching twists, doing the surprising so often that, ironically, it's become something of a calling card for his productions, and therefore, Whedonesquely predictable. Nevertheless, his mould-breaking writerly ways has got me to thinking about my own. I cannot get too comfortable with the usual formula; to be poignant, events must deviate from the predicted path in a way that the reader does not expect, but finds to be utterly inevitable, once all is said and done. The writer's task is to ensure that seeds are sown well early on, and watered and tended so that the plot will reach its full fruition by the conclusion. For me, that's often a backwards process; it's not until I get to the end that I know--at least for sure--whether a main character lives or dies, or exactly how the end result I'm striving for will be attained. As a result, after I write the end, I inevitably have to go back and reincorporate the underlying elements into the earlier portions of the story. The boon is that, in the process of reincorporation, I often discover other elements that need incorporation, elements that lend a richness and depth to the story that it lacked in the first telling.