Willing Suspension of Disbelief: Poetic Faith in Film (review)

It is commonplace for film scholars to talk about the “willing suspension of disbelief ” when discussing the role of audience and the nature of the film viewing process. Yet little attention has been given to placing the concept in historical context or considering how it might further inform film theory and criticism. Anthony J. Ferri’s Willing Suspension of Disbelief: Poetic Faith in Film offers an antidote to this void in the literature. A short, but cogently written book of fewer than 100 pages, Ferri’s work is organized into seven chapters:

Chapter 1 explores the historical context that gave rise to Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s Biographia Literaria, published in 1817, which introduced the phrase “willing suspension of disbelief.” A poet and critic, Coleridge sought to explain how readers experience poetry and the hypnotic process whereby they willingly allow themselves to be transported from story spectator to story participant. Coleridge, notes Ferri, “could not have imagined that the concept would be applied by so many for so many years to describe what happens to audiences in movie theaters throughout the world.”

After summarizing various theoretical approaches to film viewing from the perspective of how they shed light on Coleridge’s concept (chapter 2), Ferri compares films that effectively engage the audience’s willingness to suspend their disbelief with those that seemingly violate the audience’s poetic faith (chapter 3). In the latter case, “the film viewer becomes aware of his or her incredulity. It’s as if the lights have been brought up and the magic in the theater has ended. . . . They are aware that they are watching.” To illustrate his point, Ferri turns his attention to some notable contemporary films, offering short but perceptive critiques that nicely support his argument.

Chapter 4 discusses empirical approaches to film viewing. It includes the author’s attempt to empirically map what happens when viewers watch a film. Ferri’s study, a survey of 222 viewers as they exited eight different theaters in Las Vegas, demonstrates that it is possible to document the audience’s willingness to suspend disbelief—a process “composed of emotions, beliefs, and behaviors”—but such documentation remains a complicated undertaking, further layered by the convergence of media technologies and the rise of newer-type viewing experiences (the focus of chapter 5).

In chapter 6, Ferri proposes a broad model for mapping how audiences process film. The model, Ferri concedes, becomes worthwhile to the extent that “scholars and industry members explore the territory through empirical, historical, and critical research.” Ferri posits three questions for future researchers: “What elements of the willing suspension of disbelief can be measured? What differences occur between single viewers and coviewers (couples, groups)? What differences in viewing presence occur under developing technologies?”

The last chapter restates and amplifies Ferri’s argument that Coleridge continues to offer key insight into how audiences experience film today, as well as how they will tomorrow, because “while viewing varies according to culture,” Ferri concludes, “the basic act of viewing remains the same.” Just as Coleridge envisioned a reader wanting to be cognitively transported to another world, Ferri affirms that the film audience welcomes the same.

Willing Suspension of Disbelief is impeccably researched, the author excelling at synthesizing relevant literature. Although at times I would have preferred less summary and more analysis, the book still emerges as a useful work that raises intriguing questions and research possibilities about the nature and function of viewer imagination. It will appeal to readers interested in how audiences experience film and how that process gives film its meaning and import.