Samhain Publishing

Jen: The first time I remember suffering over a fictional loss was when I was a teenager and went to see the movie Ghost. At the end of that movie when Patrick Swayze says “Ditto” and goes into the light, I sobbed so loud that other people in the theater actually laughed at me {ask Lisa about it, she was with me at the time. (Lisa: Yes, I was there…and laughing at her, too!)} Perhaps it was the teenage hormones at work, or maybe I like to suffer, but I went and saw that movie several more times in the theater—and cried every time. Recently, I caught the ending on cable…and balled all over again.

Why is tragedy and death of beloved characters in popular fiction so prevalent? Is it the shock value? Is it to showcase how life is precious? As a writer, I get why death is necessary. It creates great emotional angst, it allows us to explore the darker side of life. It can create great conflict. But still, from the other side of the table, why do we, as readers and viewers, keep coming back to shows—or rewatch movies and reread books—that rip our hearts out time and time again?

Lisa: There’s one particular character whose death killed me. Jack Dawson in Titanic. After all that he’d shared with Rose. After all they’d been through. After everything he’d done for her—much without actually trying, he was just being himself. When that guy died, I was beside myself. I mean, I identified with both Rose and Jack in that movie, so losing one and then the other was difficult. Sure, without his death and then hers, the story would’ve been much different and had a much lessened impact, but still that doesn’t take away the heart-wrench. I suppose the consolation was the beautiful reunion scene at the end for Jack and Rose…and the rest of the people who died aboard the Titanic. (Jen: After more than thirty viewings, that scene still guts me. I cry from Jack’s death all the way until they’re reunited.) Everyone happy in eternal death because they didn’t get much time in life, okay, that’s consolation enough in a movie…or at least it’ll have to do.

Jen: Anyone who knows me knows I’m a big fan of Joss Whedon, yet that man has ripped my heart out more than once. In Buffy the Vampire Slayer, I was completely shredded when Tara died. I screamed at the TV when she was shot and then went into a bit of a stupor. I actually wore black in mourning the day after that episode aired. I loved Tara and Willow together and when Willow got her mad and crazy on and got her revenge, I was right there cheering her on (even when she almost destroyed the world.) Joss also gutted me when Joyce, Buffy’s mom, died, and when Spike died in the series finale. At that point I knew that Spike was going to be moving over to the TV series, Angel, but even knowing his death wasn’t going to stick, I still sobbed until my eyes were swollen at his heroic passing. Joss got me again when Wash died in Serenity. I never saw it coming, and when it happened I wanted to rewind and rewatch only because I figured I must’ve seen it wrong. (Of course, being in the theater at the time, I just had to sit there with my jaw on the ground and tears burning my eyes cursing Joss again for killing one of my beloved characters.) Mr. Whedon, I’m putting you on notice. Stop ripping my heart out! You do it too well.

And while we’re talking about writers and creators who need to stop, let’s talk about the creator of Torchwood, Russell T. Davies, who I’ve decided must be one of the most evil men on the planet. For those of you who haven’t watched Torchwood: Children of Earth yet and don’t want to have it spoiled for you, stop reading now. I mean it. Stop. Because I’m going to rant and moan and gripe over each unnecessary death.

Torchwood is/was a great show. But it was good not just because of Captain Jack, but because of the entire ensemble. Yet for some reason that I can’t fathom, over the last two seasons the writers have stripped us of more than half the Torchwood group. Now, I should say that while I’ve griped over all the deaths above, in most cases they’ve served a purpose and although it’s hit me hard, I understand what the writers were accomplishing and how it bettered the story. But with Torchwood, nope, I can’t understand what’s going through the writers’ heads. First they killed Owen and Tosh. Their stories were unresolved—and will now forever remain as such. (Lisa: Yeah, complete and utter tragedy!) Can you imagine the awesomeness of their stories if they’d been allowed to carry on and explore their relationship? Yes, a definite tragedy that these possibilities were cut short. Then…then they had to go and kill Ianto. Why? Honest to God, I can’t understand what’s in their heads, and I hate to say it, because I’ve been a huge fan of Torchwood since the beginning, but I think they’ve lost me as a viewer.

So what characters from books, movies and television shows have you mourned over the years? And do you think their deaths were necessary, or were they blatantly murdered by their creators for reasons you just can’t get behind? Mourn and grieve with your obituaries in the comments, and we’ll remember them together.

And just as a bit of fun and eye candy, here’s a picture of Lisa and I with Gareth David-Lloyd, who played Ianto in Torchwood, when we met him at 2008’s Comic Con. Gareth, Ianto—and you—deserved so much better!