You Are What You Ignore

Horror movies are fun. I don't deny that. And I argue that they have their place in society–they show the evil that resides in the human heart and our desperate need both for God and for a savior. Since all films, all stories are, in effect, instruction manuals on how to live within this world, horror films must not operate by a different set of rules. When films give bad life-lessons, they should be called out for what they are: just plain wrong. (Scot Nehring, Godzilla is Dead: The New Brand of Japanese Horror Films)

In Scott Nehring's January Movies and Culture Report, the article Godzilla is Dead: The New Brand of Japanese Horror Films takes on torture porn and the dominance of nihilism in modern horror movies, or as he calls them, troubling productions. I agree with his reasoning but disagree with his conclusions and how he views horror through his Christian lens: distortion comes from using that lens.

To be fair, I will describe the lens I use before dissenting. I'm not a Christian, but I grew up Catholic (in body, not spirit). I don't attend mass, do not fear nor worship God, and, mostly, find all organized religions (sorry Wiccans, you too) a pain in the sacrosanct. Every religion has its doctrines, its rules of belief, and its rewards and punishments (payable now or later). All of these things confound the spiritual journey, more than enlightening it, with their stress on diety worship  over basic principles of morality and humanity.

Do I believe in God? Certainly. Is this a paradox? Hardly.

Prime Mover, doting omnipotent Father (or Mother), Heaven's Landlord, whatever you believe the nature of God to be it is just that, a belief. No proof of purchase necessary, although, Lord knows, there are many who must prove their beliefs well until Hell freezes over. I believe because it's difficult for me to watch the Wu Li Masters dancing while the stars shimmer overhead, and not wonder at the precise syncopation of their feet staying in step to the melody of the universe. So for me, you might say God's the drummer with an endless repertoire that keeps the party swinging. Whether or not you also hear those drums will not brighten or spoil my day; my ears, my eyes, you know? My lens.

For the rest of us, God can be the Boss, the Governator, the Worshippee, the Savior, the Judge and Jury, the Blamer, the Excuse, the Accuser, the Censor, the Pillory, and so much less or so much more. Do I really need to continue? You already know what God means to you. And I'll wager you ignore the rest, too. We all do to some extent. Ignorance is blissfully conducive to self-serving reasoning. Or faith.

The projection of nihilism onto the human heart has the same coarsening results as the visual impact of extreme violence. Films are modern myths, stories that teach us about our lives and our universe. When our stories teach that our universe is without design, without purpose, that life itself is a meaningless effort, the lesson harms the audience.

Nehring's God is a governing and guiding force, acting like a moral DMZ lying between damnation and salvation. Believe in God and the dictums of his religion, and you'll be saved; don't believe and you'll accelerate  all of us going to Hell in a handbasket. Therefore nihilism, the Ubermensch's  tough-luck world, doesn't fit into this ideology. To believe in God means all causes and effects happen for a reason, and behaving according to God's will–though that will changes with each religion– is beneficial for everyone. Not believing in God means–to use a horror fan's vernacular–Cthulhu and Yog Sothoth will eat your gonads for breakfast whenever they feel like it (unless it's Derleth's Cthulhu, of course: then it's pancakes and maple syrup for all, instead).

Nehring zeroes in on Japanese horror movies and their nihilistic direness: God does not exist in Juon or Ringu. "In these films there is a complete–and I mean absolute and total lack of moral structure. These stories exhibit a world devoid of God, and that is the reason these films are so effective."

I agree and disagree with his assessment.

These films do not totally lack a moral structure (especially Juon), but they are very effective because God is not the focus: plain old people are the focus and their actions contribute to the "curse [that] supersedes God and, therefore, eliminates all hope." To say there is no moral structure implicit in Juon and Ringu just because it isn't God-driven morality is sophisistic and dead wrong. Contrary to Nehring's summation, good and evil do exist in these films, but I'll admit not in equal measure, and without deity-based good and evil. People in these movies weight the balance either way by their actions or failures to act. To me, that's a clear moral message delivered without needless pontifications. You reap what you sow, right?

To say that horror films must not act by a "different set of rules" because all films are "instruction manuals" is a quaint notion for his argument, but hardly sustainable in practice. These Japanese horror movies do not give bad life-lessons: people in the real world are a whole lot better at doing this than these movies can ever pretend to be.  Horror movies have always reflected the times they appear in. And studios have always taken advantage of those times to push the boundaries of what is shown onscreen. Take a good look at our world, then go watch Hostel. It's depraved and dirty and victimizing. Now am I talking about Hostel or Wall Street or pick a war, any war? Or maybe all of these?

Contrary to Nehring's Christian lens, not all films are modern myths, teachable moments, or self-help manuals, nor do they need to be. Sometimes they transcend our expectations, sometimes not.  Sometimes they horrify us because the Devil is winning, sometimes they terrify us even more because He and God are not even in the game. Take it or leave it, it's just us and what we do, no Heavenly prizes or Hellish punishments to be had. That's what these movies are telling us.

Now that's a really scary moral lesson if ever there was one.