Cautious Consideration of Christ-Figures

In a previous post I discussed the notion of alien Messiah or Christ figures that scholars and other commentators have seen in science fiction films. Of course, they have been seen in other genres as well, but my interest for the purposes of this blog is in relation to science fiction and related genres.

“An adequate dialogue between theology and popular culture thus requires what Michael Dyson has refered to as an ‘ethical patience,’ in which the theologian does not make hasty judgments about what they find tasteful or distasteful, or try to impose pre-existing concepts on to popular culture. One example of the latter are books and articles that attempt to identify ‘Christ-figures’ in contemporary film. To suggest, however, that Edward Scissorhands or the Preacher in Pale Rider are ‘Christ-figures,’ though is to impose Christian symbolism on to these movies in a way that fails to hear what these movies are saying on their own terms. Serious theological reflection on popular culture goes beyond te superficial identification of religious themes and symbolism within it to a more substantial dialogue between cultural texts and practices and wider theological questions and resources” (p. 38).

“Instead of concluding that a film is, or is not, theologically significant because of the perceived presence, or absence, of a Christ-figure motif, the theologian should be much more open to the possibility that a film does not require explicit or overt religious ideas or imagery in order to be amenable to religious or theological interpretations.”

Paul Leggett, Gothic Horror and Terence Fisher

Paul Leggett is one of the most interesting and unique Presbyterian pastors around. In fact, it has been said that Paul is probably the most knowledgeable Presbyterian pastor on horror films that one can find. I first met Paul at Cornerstone Festival in the Imaginarium, and have had the pleasure of hearing his insights on a number of films. Paul is Pastor of Grace Presbyterian Church in New Jersey, the author of a number of articles Sherlock Holmes, horror films (particularly Gothic horror), and is the author of the book Terence Fisher: Horror, Myth and Religion (McFarland & Company, 2002). Paul has graciously taken a few moments from his pastoral responsibilities to share his thoughts with us.

TF: You have a special interest in Gothic horror. Why does this form of horror most interest you as opposed to other expressions?

Paul Leggett: Gothic horror has most appealed to me because it is the closest artistic form to the biblical picture of the conflict between good and evil, God and Satan. If the fundamental struggle of life is spiritual (Eph. 6:12) then the classic stories of Frankenstein, Dracula, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, etc. give best expression to that reality using symbol and myth.

TF: Have you ever preach any sermons based upon this material? If so, I’d love to hear them!

Paul Leggett: I’ve preached a lot on these subjects. It’s unavoidable. That however is nothing new. When Robert Louis Stevenson’s Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde was first published it was the subject of sermons all over England.

TF: Can you briefly sketch the origins and development of Gothic horror from literature to film by noting some highlights for us?

Paul Leggett: The Gothic horror story actually begins as a reaction against the extreme rationalism and overconfidence of the Enlightenment of the eighteenth century. The first so-called Gothic novel was The Castle of Otranto (1764) by Hugh Walpole. It introduced the classic elements of a dark sinster castle, evil villains, terrified heroines, brave heroes, ghosts and supernatural events. There were many early such novels, some being overtly supernatural (M.G. Lewis’ The Monk), others appearing to be supernatural but actually the activity of evil human figures (Ann Radcliffe’s The Mysteries of Udolpho). In the nineteenth century the influence of gothic horror can be seen in such classic novels as Jane Austen’s Northanger Abbey, Emily Bronte’s Wuthering Heights and Charlotte Bronte’s Jane Eyre. In 1818 Mary Shelly writes the most famous gothic horror story, Frankenstein and the rest is history.

TF: Why do you see Gothic horror as relevant and import both for contemporary evangelicals, and for the period of late modernity or post-modernity in which we live?

Paul Leggett: Gothic horror is important for evangelicals because it presents an essentially Christian worldview. In some cases , like Dracula and Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde this is very explicit. It generally has an orthodox view of human nature, sin, and redemption. Because the Gothic horror story is a reaction against early modernity it relates well to the post-modern. It challenges the assumptions of modernism. It is interesting to reflect that we remain fascinated by these stories and they are still being dramatized in the twenty first century.

TF: Let’s move to a discussion of director Terence Fisher and his Hammer films, some of my favorites. When were you first drawn to an interest in Fisher’s work?

Paul Leggett: My first Fisher film was The Hound of the Baskervilles. I was (and am) a huge Sherlock Holmes fan so I insisted my parents drive me to a theater where it was still playing after we had returned from summer vacation. My initial reaction was negative. It was so different from the Basil Rathbone films. However when I saw it again later on television I realized what a great film it was. The first Fisher film that excited me immediately was The Brides of Dracula.

TF: The subtitle of your book on Fisher is interesting, where you connect his depiction of horror to myth and religion. How do you make this connection?

Paul Leggett: Horror, myth and religion overlap everywhere in ancient myth, the Bible, Shakespeare’s plays, classic horror stories, films, etc. The Bible actually has more monsters in it than any other book I can think of. Literalists sometimes want to play this down but they then miss a critical theme. For example, Jonah isn’t swallowed by a whale but by a sea monster (Matthew 12:40).

TF: The Epilogue of your book is titled “The Lessons of Horror: Terence Fisher in Context.” What might the informed viewer take away from Fisher’s depiction of horror in terms of religious and thematic elements?

Paul Leggett: The dominant theme of Fisher’s films is the power of the cross. This power is independent of humans. The cross in his films has a life of its own. It often emerges out of ordinary things like candlesticks and windmills. The cross is the ultimate symbol for Fisher of the power of good over evil. His fundamental message is that good ultimately conquers evil and this good is often depicted in Christian symbols. Fisher also emphasize the idolatry and inevitable destruction of human pride. This is a key theme in his Frankenstein series. These are the central themes that I think emerge for a viewer of Fisher’s work.

TF: You also conclude your book with the statement that “the horror film bears study as a symbolic statement of the spiritual crisis of Western culture.” What do you mean by this, and how might Christians draw upon the horror film as a product of culture that informs our understanding of the culture, its hopes and fears, and the key issues related to religion and spirituality?

Paul Leggett: The horror film gives us an insight into the spiritual condition of our culture. This has been true for almost a century. The nature and tone of horror films reveal the outlook and fears of the culture. A classic horror film like The Black Cat (1934) tells us more about the lingering mood of World War I for example than any overt war picture of the period. Unfortunately, we now live predominantly in an age of nihilistic horror where evil is often triumphant. Nonetheless the continuing interest in gothic horror gives us a point of response. The most recent version of Dracula contains both classic gothic themes and the post-modern view of the invincibility of evil. The fact that it is Dracula however still provides us with a Christian context for discussion and hopefully, witness.

TF: Paul, thank you so much for sharing your insights. I hope you continue writing and sharing your expertise at Imaginarium for years to come.

Science Fiction and Alien Messiahs

One of the areas that has fascinated me in the study of the intersection between religion and science fiction is the impact of the Christian story upon the genre, particular the archetype of the alien Messiah.

In our portrayal of extraterrestrials we tend to oscillate between two extremes, that of the evil alien intent on human destruction or enslavement, and the alien savior, redeemer, or messiah. Given the impact of Christian thought in the West, various new religious movements that emphasize extraterrestrials have drawn upon the alien Messiah archetype, and we also see it surface many times in our science fiction films. This is especially the case in The Day the Earth Stood Still, as noted in an article by Matthew Etherden in the Journal of Religion and Film. In another article this journal also noted how cinematic aliens have also functioned in even closer proximity to the Christian story when aliens serve as Christ-figures such as Superman.

The idea of the alien Messiah was picked up on in a post by my friend Matt Stone at his Journeys in Between blog where he used the TheoFantastique interview with Douglas Cowan as his point of departure. There was a brief exchange between Doug and myself that I’d like to repost here, where Doug comments on his feelings about a misinterpretation of The Day the Earth Stood Still (TDTESS):

“What’s interesting about TDTESS is how it’s consistently been misread as a messianic film, I think in part because of the Golden Globe it won when it was released. People seem to forget that Klaatu brings the millennium wrapped in the threat of apocalypse. If you don’t control yourselves, earth people, your planet will be reduced to a burned-out cinder. And I’m going to leave Gort here to keep an eye on things. This actually fits much more neatly with my contention that religion begins with fear. I find it hard to see Klaatu as an alien Jesus, in the way many (most?) commentators do.

“I think that TDTESS is a bridge film between millennium and apocalypse, the one offered on the tip of the other. I go through some of this in a chapter called “Dreams Wrapped in Nightmares: Millennium, Apocalypse, and American Popular Culture,” which is forthcoming in The Oxford Handbook of Millennialism.”
Posted by: Doug Cowan February 20, 2007 at 02:28 PM

“Doug, thanks for the comments and being part of the conversation.

“I drew upon the alien Messiah imagery from TDTESS due to the frequent mention of this in commentaries and academic sources which you note are prevalent. In addition, while director Robert Wise did not see this symbolism and the Christian allegory in the film, apparently the screenwriter intended it as such as reported in Anton Karl Kozlovic’s article “From Holy Aliens to Cyborg Saviours: Biblical Subtexts in Four Science Fiction Films,” Journal of Religion and Film 5/2 (2001):

“…Edmund H. North himself admitted that the parallels between the story of Christ and Day were intentional: from Klaatu’s earthly name of Carpenter, to the betrayal by Tom Stevens, and finally to his resurrection and ascent into the heavens at Day’s end. ‘It was my private little joke. I never discussed this angle with [producer Julian] Blaustein or [director Robert] Wise because I didn’t want it expressed. I had originally hoped that the Christ comparison would be subliminal.'” (von Gunden, K., & Stock, S. H. (1982). Twenty all-time great science fiction films. New York: Arlington House.)

“Still, your point is well taken in regards to the strong inclusion of the element of fear in regards to any of its religious underpinnings. Perhaps there is a place for greater recognition of this in Christianity as it seems that fear was a significant part of Jesus’ kingdom messages in regards to the ever-present threat of Roman destruction of Jerusalem and the temple in the background. While fear should not the only or sole element or motivator in religion, it is there and must be grappled with appropriately.”
Posted by: John W. Morehead February 21, 2007 at 04:30 AM

“Thanks much for this, John. I’d forgotten that para in the JRF article. It makes you wonder about the kind of Christianity North envisioned, if he could place those words into Klaatu’s mouth. Kind of like the horrific faith implicated in Gibson’s Passion of the Christ. I’ll consider this further, since the case has just become much more complex, and, therefore, more interesting.”
D

I repost this here, and raise the specific issues related to the mythic ideas and archetypes surrounding the alien Messiah so that we might consider it in more depth. How might we have we misinterpreted films like TDTESS, or perhaps read too much of Christian Messianic conceptions into science fiction films while not allowing more general forms of the archetype to surface on their own terms?

[Painting “Alien Messiah” by Mike Hoffman, www.graemeflanagan.com/mike_hoffman/oil2.htm.]

Paul Teusner, Horror Films and the Construction of Religious Identity

Paul Teusner is another Australian “mate” of mine. I first encountered his work through an intriguing paper he wrote on horror and religious identity. Paul has experience in research and writing for Christian ministry work among youth, and is working through post-graduate research on religion in cyberspace. Paul’s paper that I encountered is titled “Resident Evil: Horror Film and the Construction of Religious Identity in Contemporary Media Culture” that was written as part of his Master of Theology at Melbourne College of Divinity in 2002. As the title of his paper indicates, his thesis brings together issues related to religion, horror, religious identity, and the significance of the media to these issues. Paul has agreed to share his thinking with us.

TheoFantastique: Paul, not a whole lot of graduate students working their way through a masters degree in a divinity school are drawing upon the types of subject matter you chose. I find this refreshing, but what in your background and interests might have helped shape you in moving in this direction?

Paul Teusner: In my undergraduate degree I did fairly well in Biblical Studies and Practical Theology, but only just made it through the Systematic Theology subjects I had to endure. There was something about the nature of those courses which made me think it was an exercise in placing God on some sort of theoretical flow-chart. I realised that my present and future ministry with people would never involve any of the language that was employed in those courses, and I guess I found the whole exercise quite alienating for myself. So rose my interest in finding out what language ordinary people, and in particular young people, use to talk about God, faith and organised religion. I was particularly keen to explore where people find the tools for religious expression and imagination. So I turned to horror film as an example, knowing that in this popular film genre, perhaps more than any other, explicit religious themes are explored.

TheoFantastique: You begin your paper with a discussion of culture and then you connect myths and rituals in this context as cultural mechanisms. Can you briefly summarize some of your thinking here?

Paul Teusner: I don’t think I can, but I’ll give it a shot. I believe that cultures and subcultures are formed by stories (myths, histories, popular narratives) and communal acts that connect us to those stories (that we call rituals). A useful example for us Aussies is the story of Gallipoli, where in World War I Australian and New Zealand troops were sent on a mission to defeat the Ottoman army that was doomed to fail. Our knowledge and respect for what happened on that day in history is an especial component of what makes us Australian. The Anzac Day march is a cultural act that reconnects us to the communal memory of that day, where we make present a time gone-by, and express our hopes for a future without war. The ritual is the act that connects us to the myth or the story, and reinforces our identity as a people who own and are made by that story. So rituals and myths are used to construct a communal identity and our belonging therein.

TheoFantastique: So then you see horror, science fiction, and fantasy films as serious expressions of the mythic and the ritualualistic, and therefore these are more than just entertainment and in many instances, they represent important cultural and religious components for us to understand?

Paul Teusner: I think these popular movies tend to reinvent some of the stories that have existed in cultures all around the world, but that may have been marginalised by secular liberalism that has dominated modern Western culture. These movies point to ancient ways of seeing the world, but using contemporary symbols, characters and language. the cultural significance of these films are always underpayed by mainstream society, but you only have to spend some time in the “cult” section of your video library to see members of subcultures that have been formed by these films, attesting to their power to reconstruct notions of cultural identity.

TheoFantastique: In my own research I have drawn upon the work of the late anthropologist Victor Turner in relation to his concept of communitas. How has his work, and that of others, helped you understand ritual, myth, its connection to mass media, and how this is significant for culture today?

Paul Teusner: Turner’s notion of comunitas has been extremely helpful for my understanding of popular myth and ritual practice. For Turner, a ritual is an act which has relatively little practical use (unlike a “habit” which is something you perform every day, like shaving, but is done to for other reasons besides) compared to its symbolic significance. A ritual practice is the making of the doorway between the societas (ordinary world) and the comunitas – the world of the mythic, full of possibility and imagining. For example, Christian Eucharist is more than giving thanks to God, but in participating in the ritual we endeavour to create, for a moment, a community of people who are in full connection with God. In doing it Christians remember and relive the history of Jesus who lived that life, and remind themselves that in the future the possibility will be realised. The ritual makes past and future imaginings actualised. Pierre Babin offers a useful understanding of rituals, as those practices where the a communication of myth – something that reveals the essence of life, an emergence of identity or a flowering of conscience, and a communication of something that connects with a deep consternation or aspiration for life. This definition is useful as it reveals how symbols and narrative structures in film can be seen as ritual processes.

TheoFantastique: How is horror a “ritual activity?”

Paul Teusner: I believe audiovisual media are replacing some of the common rituals in contemporary popular culture, but more than that, I think most popular films follow a common narrative structure that involves their audience in a ritual process – portraying an ordinary or slightly idyllistic world, then introducing an evil that threatens the stability of that depicted world, and then the battle of good vs evil begins. Audiences leave the film recognising that the world, though returned to its former stability, is to be seen in a different way, through different eyes, with new or renewed values. This, I think, is the goal of any ritual – to leave and return to the ordinary world with a refreshed understanding of it, and our place in it.

TheoFantastique: What do you mean when you refer to a sense of “religious identity,” and how do horror films and other forms of mass media play a major role in the construction of this identity?

Paul Teusner: In the modern era “religious identity” generally referred to what religious group or denomination you belonged to. “I’m Jewish” or “I’m Presbyterian” would pretty much cover it. I believe the postmodern era is characterised by the disregard of these labels, and the accompanying demise of authority of religious institutions. I think nowadays religious identity has become an individual pursuit, that’s marked by phrases like “I’m not religious but…” or “I’m Catholic, but I don’t go for that stuff anymore”.

I think the stories that are retold in popular media offer us the tools, the language to be able to express and communicate our understandings about the origins of life, the presence or absence of a supreme being, the meaning of life, what we’re meant to do, etc. For example, young people I have interviewed have suggested that The Matrix, while not purporting a reasonable view of the real world, makes them think about forces in life that we can’t see, and helps them appreciate how to be sensitive to our definitions of “reality” and that there are countless alternative depictions possible.

TheoFantastique: In the late 1960s Harvey Cox spoke of human beings as homo festivus, given to festival and revelry, and homo fantasia, the “visionary dreamer and mythmaker.” He also spoke of Western culture at this time as being fantasy deprived. This may still be true, and with special application to the church. In your paper you select nine films and then us them as a means for engaging in a theological conversation as to how they impact religious identity. Do you think there is a significant place for fantasy, science fiction, and horror genres to inform the theological imagination, conversations, and reflection of the church in the West?

Paul Teusner: In the third year of my undergraduate studies I took a course titled Theological Reflections in Ministry, where a couple of weeks was spent talking about the nature of theological imagination, and the place of imagination in theological inquiry. I have to say the conversations surprised me, in a college that had placed so much importance on rational, theoretical approaches to theology. But it was a liberating exercise – to appreciate how the human mind can imagine future possibilities, and the responsibility of those in ministry to respect them and things of God. I was reminded that God has spoken to many in the Bible in dreams, and that Isaiah calls all to hope where dreams and visions thrive. So I definitely believe there’s a place for fantasy in theology, but I believe it’s been surpressed by mainstream Protestant institutions where only the academes survive. I would contend that any endeavour to engage in mission in contemporary media culture will necessarily involve embracing imagination as a tool of theological inquiry.

TheoFantastique: You also speak of theology as mythic, marginal, and as genre. Can you briefly summarize your thinking here?

Paul Teusner: In my paper I call readers to consider the parables of Jesus as retold in Luke. In these parable grand theological treatises about the nature of God and God’s desires for people were told using symbols and structures that were commonly used by the people of the time. The telling of these parables was in itself a political rebellion against the intellectual elite among the Jews and Romans. It was a marginalised form of theological communication. But the process of engaging with an audience through parable – presenting an ordinary world, then presenting a subversive influence to produce a new moral or value through which to see the world – is both an act of genre and an act of theology. Jesus’s relationship to his audience, as Luke’s relationship to his readers, involves all three aspects in the construction of a theology – myth, marginalisation and genre.

TheoFantastique: In your discussion of theology and religious identity you state that “visual and performance arts, over time, became a secular pursuit, away from the sanctions and supports of the Church.” How might the church begin to embrace these missing facets of expression and do so as part of the sacred realm?

Paul Teusner: Oh, man. If I knew I would be getting fat off the royalties of my book! Taisto Lehikoinen has written much on how different churches have engaged with contemporary media, and all have failed in some way. I would say at this time all endeavours are experiments, and most would cause tensions with those who hold to the tried-and-true ways of doing things. Essentially I believe it will really only be successful in the local setting, whether that be the small community church, Internet chat room or out the back of your local pub or coffee shop. What “the church” will do will depend on how well “the church” listens to the rebellious, curious, tentative and timid expressions of itself on the cusp between religious institution and local culture.

TheoFantastique: Finally, Paul, you state that “just as the printing press fuelled the Protestant Reformation in 16th century Europe, so audio-visual communication presents a challenge to established religion in this time.” You also state that “horror film, as much as all other forms of audio-visual media, present a new forum for theological discourse that impacts on Christian life.” Would you say that the cultural situation in the West makes this an ideal time for Christian storytellers, mythmakers, and filmmakers to get involved in producing good horror, science fiction, and fantasy?

Paul Teusner: Only if they have the money, unfortunately. We live in an era where media is controlled by the corporation. I believe that the Internet is offering a place for new and challenging uses of media are made available to more people. At the moment, Christian storytellers and film-makers should make the most of web sites like YouTube and myspace.com to connect with an audience and make their presence known.

TheoFantastique: Paul, thanks for your paper, and thanks as well for making the time to share some of your thinking with us.

Paul Teusner: No problem, mate. I appreciate your reading of my paper and thank you for making it known out there.

B. J. Oropeza: Comics, Archetypes, and Superheroes

In my recent readings in religion and popular culture I checked the endnote references for an article and noted the name of B. J. Oropeza. This was somewhat surprising in that I was familiar with his work in the areas of theology and apologetics, but was unfamiliar (and pleasantly surprised) with his interests and work in religion and popular culture. Dr. Oropeza is associate professor of biblical studies at the Azusa Pacific School of Theology, and while I share with him a desire for good scholarship in religious studies, it is his work in comics and pop culture that caught my attention. For example, he presented a paper in 2004 at the annual conference of the Popular Culture Society on the topic of “Spiderman, the Silver Surfer, and Jesus: The Interaction Between Superheroes and Religious Figures.” He also served as editor of The Gospel According to Superheroes: Religion and Popular Culture (Peter Lang, 2005), which includes a foreword by Stan Lee. The book is positively reviewed by ImageTexT, Interdisciplinary Comics Studies, and is described as a collection of essays which shows “a genuine interest in exploring the theological and ideological implications of superhero comics from a decidedly scholarly perspective.”

Disney’s Contributions to America’s Halloween Mythology

Last year I had an opportunity to do some research in preparation for a series of presentations at Cornerstone Festival in the Imaginarium venue looking at a historical and cross-cultural perspective on the development of Halloween. Some of the materials that I interacted with noted a variety of influences in current America’s celebration of this holiday, and I was pleasantly surprised to see the strong influence of Walt Disney.

Douglas Cowan and Sacred Terror: Part 2

Following is the second part of the interview with Douglas Cowan on the subject matter surrounding his
forthcoming book Sacred Terror.

TF: In your book you discuss the “metataxis of horror.” Can you briefly define this and how you discuss it in your book?

Doug Cowan: The “metataxis of horror” refers to the process by which films generate their horror by reversing or inverting the accepted taxonomic categories of the dominant religion. They challenge the dominance of Christianity, for example, threatening its inevitability, or reflecting the ambivalence people feel about its power to explain the universe in toto. This process occurs in three principal ways: inversion, invasion, and insignificance. Inversive films, for example, challenge the dominance or legitimacy of Christianity (or whatever the dominant tradition is) from within, seeking to invert the power it enjoys or the popular understanding people have of it.

Take The Prophecy, for example, the basic story of which is a second war in Heaven led by the angel Gabriel, who has grown tired of God favouring “talking monkeys” (i.e., us) over the angelic hosts. That’s one level of inversion. A deeper level in the film, though, has to do with how we conceptualise angels themselves. When many people think of angels, for example, they think of TV series like Touched by an Angel, little gold “Guardian Angel” pins, God’s little helpers who seem to have nothing better to do than help us find our lost keys. But as the main character in the film points out, “You ever read the Bible? You ever notice how, in the Bible, when God needed to punish someone, make an example, or whenever God needed a killing, he sent an angel? Did you ever wonder what a creature like that must be like? Your whole existence spent praising your God, always with one wing dipped in blood. Would you ever really want to see an angel?”

That’s a stunning way of inverting the popular conception of angels based on a perfectly reasonable reading of the biblical texts themselves. Another example is the Wishmaster series, based on Arabic legends of the djinn. Far from the cutesy lamp-dwellers played by Barbara Eden and Robin Williams, these are terrifying creatures with no love or compassion for humankind. They put the horror in the notion of being careful what you wish for. In one instance, a character wishes for a million dollars. The scene cuts to his own mother signing a million-dollar travel insurance policy before boarding a holiday flight. She names her son as beneficiary, and the plane explodes on take-off. “Make you wishes,” says the Djinn, “but beware of what you wish for.”

Metataxis frightens us because it presents the possibility that the world may not be exactly the way we believe, that the unseen order to which we have, perhaps, dedicated our lives may not be as powerful, as inevitable as we imagine. There was a time, you know, when Christianity was not, when it didn’t exist, when other gods ruled. These films often explore what that time might look like if those times came again. That frightens people, I think, because it challenges the long-term stability—what I call the inevitability—of their worldviews.

TF: You note in your book that horror films often draw explicitly on Christian mythology and iconography, but you also note other cultural and religious myths that are referenced, such as Hong Kong horror cinema and its use of Confucian, Buddhist, and Taoist narrative, mythology and iconography. What do you see as the power of these underpinnings for American culture?

Doug Cowan: I’m not sure they have so much power for American culture. An example is the way some Japanese horror films have recently been remade for American audiences, and, in my opinion, suffered horribly because of that. What I am pointing out more importantly here is that there are vast cinematic industries that exist beyond Hollywood, and the horror films they produce respond to a different set of sociophobics, different set of cultural conditions that determine what we fear, how we fear, and what we do to confront or resolve our fear. Chinese vampire films, for example, are a wonderful example of this. Vampires rise because they are not buried according to proper feng shui, for example (Mr. Vampire), and it is the ritual symbols and magic of Taoism that put them back in the grave. Different cultures fear different things, and fear them in different ways. We may watch zombie movies and shriek in delighted terror, but I guarantee that they are watched in a very different way in Haiti (if, indeed, they are ever screened there at all). That’s the point of using a sociophobic approach in the book, as opposed to a theological or psychological one.

There are some connections, though, between different versions of the unseen order, and American (and British, in this case) popular culture and popular imagination. Take Mummy movies, which I admit (Pinhead and the Cenobites notwithstanding) are my favourite sub-category of horror. If vampire movies are low-end porn in many cases, then my contention is that Mummy movies are love stories, and they draw on a popular fascination with all things Egyptian that has existed in both the U.S. and Britain since the end of the nineteenth century. They are also good examples of the ways in which we constantly construct (and reconstruct) the religious other, since those who are fascinated by the Mummy often know precious little about Egyptian history or religion. These films become, though, symbols of what they think that religion and history must be like. As a sociologist, this is the point at which I become really interested.

TF: With the increase in Japanese horror films in this country as well as American remakes, and Hong Kong horror (e.g., The Messengers, 2007), might a shift in the religious makeup of America mean that other religious myths and icons might be drawn upon more frequently in horror in the near future?

Doug Cowan: I would hope that would be the case, but I admit that I have my doubts. Even though the same Japanese director made the American version of Ju-on as The Grudge, I think his attempts to tailor it to American tastes resulted in a decidedly inferior product. This is, however, another example of how sociophobics work: what scares one culture doesn’t automatically scare members of another. Things don’t automatically translate, and there’s no good reason why they should.

TF: I know you take a book to try to answer this in more depth, but could you share a few reasons as to why you think that horror cinema continues to be so popular, whether through motion pictures in the theaters or straight-to-DVD releases?

Doug Cowan: That is a hard question, but central in many ways, because horror is, arguably, among the most robust genres precisely because it does produce so many films only for fans. Even before the advent of DVD technology, and mainstream studios’ realization that they can make as much if not more money in that market than with theatrical release, the vast majority of horror films never made it to theatres, yet they were eagerly awaited by fans. Put simply, though, in addition to homo sapiens, we are also homo narrans, we are story-telling creatures, and among the most oft-told stories throughout our history have been scary stories about the variety of unseen orders we have envisioned. We tell stori
es both to locate ourselves in relation to that unseen order, and to express our anxieties about the shape that order takes, what it demands of us, how it might confront us if we turn our backs for a moment. As I suggest at the end of Chapter 2:

Technology has not banished the fear of the dark—candles burn down, batteries go flat (that is, they “die,” and so often the characters in horror cinema die with them), and flashlights all but inevitably refuse to work just when we need them most (witness the terrifying end of Capt. Dallas [Tom Skerritt] as he hunts for the creature in Alien). No matter how powerful our halogen headlights, the darkness and all the fears that live within it still exist on the ragged edge of the light we use to keep them at bay. Moreover, even while we keep it at bay, even as we use all our technological resources to pierce the darkness (that is, to “kill” it), we can still see it out there. We have, in fact, done nothing more than prick it, because in the context of the pitifully small segment of the electromagnetic spectrum to which we have visual access, darkness is our natural condition. Light is the intruder, a temporary island of relative security in a larger, largely uncharted ocean of dark.

TF: You discuss cinema horror in relation to the process of secularization and what this means for religious belief in late modernity or postmodernity. Can you summarize some of your thinking here?

Doug Cowan: A number of commentators, like the missiologist you mentioned before, seem to think that cinema horror represents the denigration of religion and the relentless advance of secularization. This is far too limited a reading, in my view. It seems to ignore the fact that fear lies at or near the heart of much of human religious experience and expression.

Secularization, of course, is the belief—some would say the ideology—that technologized societies are becoming less religious, less dependent on faith-based models of interpretation and action. Numerous sociologists and historians of religion, however, have challenged that notion, and I take a similar position. We may tell ourselves that we are becoming more sophisticated in our worldview, that we have left behind the superstitions of the past, that our explanations for unexpected phenomena now account for their origin and power without reference to supernatural beings or powers, and that religion is no longer a necessary component of social life—but in North America, at least, most of the data available to us quite simply indicate otherwise. Indeed, the issue is not one of secularization—that cinema horror discloses to us the abandonment or minimization of religious belief in late modern society—but an overwhelming ambivalence toward the religious traditions, beliefs, practices, and mythistories by which we are confronted, in which we are often still deeply invested, which we are distinctly unwilling to relinquish, and which we just as often only minimally understand. It is this ambivalence, and the various fears it both evokes and embeds, that I’m concerned with in the book.

My basic argument in Sacred Terror is that religiously oriented cinema horror remains a significant material disclosure of deeply embedded cultural fears of the supernatural and an equally entrenched ambivalence about the place and power of religion in society as the principal means of negotiating those fears. As a pop culture exercise in sociophobics, cinema horror provides a window into both the cultural stock of knowledge on which those fears depend and the various cultural discourses they support. As Stephen King writes in Danse Macabre, which remains one of the most insightful analyses of the horror genre, “When the horror movies wear their various sociopolitical hats—the B-picture as tabloid editorial—they often serve as an extraordinarily accurate barometer of those things that trouble the night-thoughts of a whole society.” Put differently, what scares us reveals important aspects of who we are, both as individuals and as a society. And religion, whether some people like it or not, scares us.

TF: Related to this you mention a yearning for belief in the supernatural as expressed in the persistence of belief in the paranormal, and mention the growth of this in connection with The X-Files television program, without making an explicit connection. Do you see human religiosity and a yearning for the supernatural as also playing a part in the continued popularity of horror films?

Doug Cowan: Sure, that only makes sense, and it is in many ways at the heart of what I’m trying to do. But what needs to be clarified here is that human religiosity *is* a yearning for the supernatural, in the sense of an unseen order which we can try to understand, and to which we can harmoniously adjust ourselves. Talk of the supernatural and the paranormal as though they are somehow different from religion only reinforces the problem I’m trying to address. What one group calls “paranormal,” for example, the other calls ecstatic vision or prophecy. What one derides as “supernatural,” the other uses to define their faith as charismatic Christians. I recognise that there are colloquially understood categories of the “paranormal”—ESP, telekinesis, clairvoyance and clairaudience, etc.—but I would like to suggest that those are political divisions as much as they are experiential. They privilege certain understandings of our relationship with the unseen order, and marginalize others. The X-Files is simply one of the latest in a long line of pop cultural products that has drawn attention to these issues.

TF: At the conclusion of your first chapter you ask whether “it is possible that cinema horror is one cultural means by which we confront the classical theological problem of evil.” Might horror films be a neglected cultural artifact that theologians should consider in regards to the problem of evil and contemporary answers to this perennial issue?

Doug Cowan: I hope that would be one of the things people get from the book. Cinema horror is far too often simply dismissed, as though who both produce and consume it have no voices worth hearing in the discussions and debates about the unseen order. This is ridiculous, quite frankly. I think, though, that Christian theologians (at least) will learn most only when they learn to bracket any claim to normativity in their assessment of other religious traditions. That is, they need to stop arrogating to themselves the right to decide who is “properly religious” and who isn’t. Of course, there are theologians who do this admirably (Hans Kung comes to mind in this regard, and Matthew Fox), and I don’t mean to generalise across the spectrum of Christianity. But, in the evangelical/ fundamentalist streams, one is hard-pressed to find more than a handful who take the religious experiences of others seriously and on their own terms, that is, without some hidden proselytic agenda. In that, they could learn a lot from Pinhead: what are angels to some are demons to others.

TF: Finally, Doug, you also state that “our culture teaches us in a variety of ways what to fear, and through a variety of cultural products reflects and reinforces the fears we have been taught.” As you explore horror films and their connection to religion, just as theologians might be missing the significance of horror films for their discipline, might other disciplines and academics learn important things by reflecting on this?

Doug Cowan: I think you’re right. Many academic and professional disciplines suffer at various points in their evolution from tunnel vision and single-mindedness. Accord
ing to Lee Smolin, for example, theoretical physics has for some time been locked in a very narrow and unproductive battle over string theory, and won’t really move as a discipline until both sides retire from the field for a while. There are a number of things different disciplines can learn from this work—at least I hope that there are. Seems a waste of time, otherwise. As I pointed out in the first part of the interview, for example, this is the first step in a much more detailed consideration of the relationship between religion and fear. In a nutshell, my hypothesis in this is that religion begins with fear, and is fear remains an intimate part of the human religious phenomenon. This is not something which has been explored in any real depth, that I can see, but an exciting direction to move.

TF: Doug, thanks again for participating in this interview. Please let me know when the book is available so we can promote it here.

Doug Cowan: Thanks for asking me. The book is being published by Baylor University Press, and should be available for you to give to all your friends for Hallowe’en next year. Boo!

Douglas Cowan and Sacred Terror: Part 1

Douglas Cowan is a leading scholar working in the area of new religions. Formerly he taught at the University of Missouri – Kansas City, and he now teaches at Renison College/University of Waterloo. He is the author of a number of books, including Cults and New Religions: A Brief History (Blackwell, 2007); Cyberhenge: Modern Pagans on the Internet (Routledge, 2005); The Remnant Spirit: Conservative Reform in Mainline Protestantism (Praeger, 2003); and Bearing False Witness?: An Introduction to the Christian Countercult (Praeger, 2003). (Painting by Paul Thomas, Ph.D.)

Doug also has teaching and writing experience and a great interest in religion and popular culture. He has articles coming out on the religious underpinning of the 1953 version of War of the Worlds, and on the apocalyse and millennium in American popular culture. He regularly teaches courses at the University of Waterloo on Religion and Popular Film, one of which includes an exploration of religion and myth in the science fiction film, and another in cinema horror. He is currently writing a book, Sacred Terror: Religion and Horror on the Silver Screen, which is under contract with Baylor University Press, and due out next year. Doug made some time in his schedule to share his thoughts on horror movies and religion.

Rue Morgue magazine

Planet of the Apes: An American Myth

One of the films that I found most enjoyable growing up was Planet of the Apes (1968). So many things stand out in this film, from the great musical score by Jerry Goldsmith, to the cutting-edge makeup of the time by John Chambers, to the great screenplay and twist ending by Michael Wilson and with no small contribution by his co-writer Rod Serling. I recall being caught up in the popularity of all of this in the 1970s, from getting my parents to buy my brother and I t-shirts with our favorite apes on them (as one might imagine we did stand out in school), to having the action figures, and our viewing of all the subsequent films and the television series.

As a related aside, I must state that while I have the greatest love for Tim Burton and most of his films, especially his ability as an artist, filmmaker, and fairytale crafter, and his love for stop motion animation as the medium for two of his films, The Nightmare Before Christmas (1993) and Corpse Bride (2005), he missed the mark with his version of Planet of the Apes (2001). Rick Baker’s makeup was wonderful, and I am not necessarily opposed to new takes on great stories (although a director takes a huge risk when taking on cinematic icons), in my opinion Mark Wahlberg was appalling in the lead role, the screenplay was no where near as intriguing as the original, and the ending just plain made no sense no matter how many times I watched it over and over again.