Cinefantastique Online

Is the tension between Christianity and Horror intractable? In a word, no.

The power of the cross destroys Count Dracula (Christopher Lee).

You really should check out The Groovy Age of Horror. As the name implies, webmaster Curt Purcell is really into ’60s stuff, and although he wallows in more exploitation-sleaze than I care to do, he offers excellent analysis on topics of interest to fans of cinefantastique (that is, the kind of stuff we would write more often here if we weren’t such a bunch of slackers). However, surrendering to that perverse spirit in the human character that finds it easier to criticize than to praise, on this first occasion of my directing attention to the Groovy Age since June of last year, I am going to lob some grenades in that blog’s direction.

My target is Purcell’s essay, “Thoughts on ‘Christian Horror.’” Just to be absolutely clear, the quotation marks around the phrase Christian Horror exist in the original, and they more or less sum up Purcell’s attitude – which seems to be that “Christian Horror” is an oxymoron that others use to describe something that does not – in fact, cannot – truly exist. The inspiration for for Purcell’s musings are two essays (”Christinaity and Horror Redux” and “Divinity into Darkness: The Rise of Christian Horror” by John D. Morehead of TheoFantastique, who argues that Evangelical Christians should embrace the genres of science fiction, fantasy, and horror. Purcell sees Morehead’s effort as doomed to failure; for a variety of reasons, he views the “tension between Christianity and horror” as “intractable.”

I find this argument puzzling because it is inarguable that Christianity and horror have long been closely aligned.  This is a religion (in its various forms throughout the millennia) that offers the promise of Heaven but also the threat of Hell – filled with demons and devils that may tempt unwary souls into eternal damnation – certainly the ultimate horror. Long before the horror genre was officially christened, preachers used sermons to scare their flock onto the righteous path – sort of an old-fashioned equivalent of “Scared Straight” documentaries warning against a life of crime by portraying the horrible conditions in prison. Perhaps the most famous of these is Jonathan Edwards’ “Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God,” which warned the faithful thus:

The devil stands ready to fall upon them, and seize them as his own, at what moment God shall permit him. They belong to him; he has their souls in his possession, and under his dominion. The scripture represents them as his goods, Luke 11:12. The devils watch them; they are ever by them at their right hand; they stand waiting for them, like greedy hungry lions that see their prey, and expect to have it, but are for the present kept back. If God should withdraw his hand, by which they are restrained, they would in one moment fly upon their poor souls. The old serpent is gaping for them; hell opens its mouth wide to receive them; and if God should permit it, they would be hastily swallowed up and lost.

That sure sounds like good raw material for a horror film – can’t you just imagine the special effects technicians at ILM bringing that imagery to life?

Fundamentally, many classic horror stories and Gothic novels are fairy tales for adults, in which the forces of Good triumph over the forces of Evil – a formula that is perfectly in line with Christianity (and, we should acknowledge, with other religions as well*). We may consider this formula trite, but that is an aesthetic distinction; it in no way proves that Christianity and horror are fundamentally irreconcilable.

The Exorcist (1973)

It is certainly easy enough to cite examples of horror stories and movies infused with Christian imagery and themes. Bram Stoker’s Draculais a classic example that has been filmed many times. Of somewhat more recent vintage is THE EXORCIST, which Cinefantastique founder Frederick S. Clarke rated as the greatest horror film of all time (and these many years later I would still agree wtih him). Then of course there are the OMEN movies, featuring the Anti-Christ and a threatened apocalypse, along with spin-off variations such as THE SEVENTH SIGN. The ’90s gave us THE PROPHECY (premised on a war among the angels) and THE DEVIL’S ADVOCATE. More recently, films like CONSTANTINE have used the traditional imagery to their own ends, even if they cast a somewhat cynical eye on the supernatural battle between Good and Evil. And earlier this year, THE UNBORN suggested a common ground between Jewish and Christian traditions when it came to confronting Evil.

I suppose one could argue that many of these are “Christ-ploitation” titles, rather than sincere expressions of religious belief, but that is somewhat beside the point. Hollywood seldom does a good job depicting the intricacies of any school of thought – be it psychological, political, philosophical, or religious – and I don’t think anyone would argue that there is an unbridgeable gulf between Freudian theory and horror just because Hollywood’s depiction of psycho-analystic theory tends to be way off-kilter.

Speaking of Freud, Purcell begins his argument with a broad generalization: “horror is all about the id, and Christianity is all about the superego.” Purcell goes on:

Horror is all about letting dark forces and feelings run wild, at least for the duration of the story, and Christianity is all about arresting, restricting, denying, rejecting, punishing, etc. precisely those forces and feelings. If that sounds like an oversimplification, I’d sure like to hear an account of Christianity that can accommodate horror’s celebration (yes, celebration) of monsters, “metaphysical” and psychological darkness and chaos, etc.

Accommodation is unnecessary in this case, because horror does not celebrate monsters, darkness, and chaos. Even H.P. Lovecraft – an atheist – viewed these things as unspeakable horrors; he certainly doesn’t sympathize with the crazed cult member who worship Cthulhu and look foward to the day when the Earth will be dragged off to a nameless place for a nameless purpose. Ironically, as Lovecraft matured, he moved toward writing tales that were more overtly science fiction than horror, precisely because he was no longer so filled with the same old nameless dread. If the horror genre really were all about the id, it would not be horror; it would be…I don’t know – enlightened pornography, perhaps?

In any case, there can be no horror without the superego; it is the tension between id and superego, in fact, that fuels much of the genre. For there to be horror, there must be standards of behavior, lines that are not supposed to be crossed, because temptation leads to damnation (even if that damnation is rendered in secular terms). Of course, those standards will be violated, and the lines will be crossed, but the violation must create a sense of shock and/or outrage; otherwise, there is no horror. Yes, we receive a form of cathartic enjoyment from seeing those forces unleashed for the duration of the story; it is fun to indulge our baser nature in the safety of the cinema, where the violence is imaginary and no one is really hurt. However, anyone in his/her right mind – whether Christian or not – would want those forces to be restricted, denied, rejected, and punished by the conclusion. There simply is no contradiction here that needs to be resolved (unless you believe that artwork and life are exactly alike, and we cannot approve of watching anything on screen unless we would also approve of doing it in real life).

I am perhaps not being fair to Purcell’s argument. He seems to be writing not about genre material that includes Christian elements; for him, “Christian Horror” represents something more specific: a form of horror that hews so closely to fundamentalist doctrine that it would achieve approval even from the most conservative self-appointed guardian of public morals. 

I find this argument to be a straw-man: basically, Purcell says that if you’re a Christian horror writer, you must do this, and this won’t work. But  the reason that this won’t work is that Purcell has deliberately defined this in a way that won’t work. As logicians would say, he is begging the question.

The symbol of Christianity obliterates evil in a burst of flame.

To cite one example, Purcell insists that in contemporary Christianity the only way to vanquish supernatural evil is with prayer. (”I guess you could gussy up an exorcism to make it more theatrical and difficult for the characters to perform, but it’s still just a fancy kind of prayer.”) If that were true, then yes, Christian horror would be a very limited sub-genre. But is this true? An overtly Christian novel like Dracula is loaded with horrifying ways of dispatching monsters. Some prayer is involved (at least in the dispatching of Lucy), but that doesn’t lessen the impact of staking the vampire’s hearts and severing their heads. And just to cite my all-time favorite horror movie ending ever, let’s not forget the firey climax of CITY OF THE DEAD (a.k.a. HORROR HOTEL), in which a cross, the very symbol of Christianity, obliterates a coven of witches in a spectacular burst of flames. One remarkable aspect of this sequence is that the victory of Good over Evil is rendered in a manner that is more terrifying than triumphant – the Power of God is seen as something truly awesome, in the old-fashioned sense – capable of inspiring an overwhelming sense of reverence and fear. You just don’t get that in Torture Porn.

Purcell is on slightly firmer ground when he objects to “prioritizing message and moral over story,” but this objection could apply to any philosophy or belief system; ultimately what matters is the craftsmanshp and artistry that the author uses to make his point. (Eisenstein was basically making propaganda films for Communist Russia; nevertheless, his innovative use of montage earned him a respected place in the history of cinema.)

There is no reason to define Christian horror in such limited terms; there are many practising Christians of different denominations who do not equate the genre with sin. Speaking personally, I put on a Halloween haunted house at my local Catholic church when I was in high school, and no one batted an eyebrow: I didn’t even have to make a case for why the production was suitable for the church; they just let me do it. Decades later, I was happy to find that my old church was offering a new Halloween haunt for 2008, again without raising any controversy whatsoever.

The point is simply this: if you define a “Christian” as someone who objects to horror, then horror will be objectionable to such “Christians.” But this is a rhetorical game, a classroom exercise in defining terms to get the desired results. In the real world, there are many Christians who enjoy the genre as long as it sticks to the old Good-versus-Evil formula. We may argue that this formula is hackneyed or limited, but it is valid, and there is no reason why it cannot continue to generate worthwhile novels, plays, television shows, and movies.

FOOTNOTE:

• It would perhaps be opening too big a can of worms to ask whether Purcell would apply his argument to other religions. I will only note that Nobuo Nakagawa’s 1960 classic JIGOKU (”Hell”) presents a Buddhist vision of the infernal regions that is shockingly effective even today and – theological details aside – not all that far removed from Jonathan Edwards’ depiction of hellfire and brimstone.