At least, that's what the writers of Smash seem to think. They mention it in one of their episodes. I've been thinking about it ever since.

I've also been pondering the difficulty of creating a well-told tragedy. And before you say anything, I recognize that one of the first things most writers will say is that it is harder to be funny than sad. FN1. But a truly great tragedy, one that is more than just another sad story like one sees on the news and then breezes past, is unbelievably difficult to tell. Too sad and the reader will simply stop reading and move on to happier pursuits. Not sad enough, and it fails to possess the kind of gravitas that separates the run-of-the-mill sad story from the transcendental tragedy.

I will state for the record that I have not yet nor am I currently writing a true tragedy...unless I am. Sorry, can't confirm or deny after all. As Dr. River Song would say, “Spoilers.” But writing in general makes me think about reading, or television watching, or film viewing, in a way that I didn't before I started writing. Also, let's be honest, I've been lately obsessing over the Baz Luhrmann's The Great Gatsby, and that is one epic tale of tragedy.

Strictly Ballroom aside, Luhrmann's Red Curtain collection seems to cement his reputation for trafficking in tragedy:

Romeo + Juliet, a retelling of a tale of woe from perhaps the world's greatest tragedian Shakespeare;
Moulin Rouge!, which opens on a scene that let's you know right out of the gate – this will not end well; and
Australia, which was criminally overlooked here in the U.S. But is a beautifully melancholy story that, while not exactly a tragedy, certainly has it's share of misery.

The setting and story for Gatsby feels like a good fit for Luhrmann, particularly given the tone the narrator has in the books combined with Lurhman's sense of hyper-reality in visual storytelling.

The other thing I've been watching is a lot of Dr. Who. Now there's some tragedy for you! A man who is the last of his race because he committed genocide of his own kind to save the universe. A man, traveling through all of space and time in a blue box, who lives practically forever, but always alone. Someone who is often loved, but who must maintain an emotional distance to keep those he loves safe. And every companion, they gain something amazing from their adventures with him, but the lose, too. Family members, careers, even their memories. The Doctor's stories so rarely end well. That's what makes them good, though. Even when they are terribly sad – The Girl Who Waited, Turn Left, The Girl in the Fireplace – the stories are so compelling.

Why do we love a good tragedy? What does it take to tell a compelling sad story? What is the right balance of bitter and sweet, sad and happy?

It's an interesting challenge to consider....

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FN1. I would argue that it is harder to be transcendentally funny, as in funny for the ages, than sad, because so much of comedy is cultural context. Either way, though, both are hard to do.