A History of Zombiism, Part Two

Good day, good year and welcome to the year 2015! Can you believe it’s been over two years since everyone thought the world was going to end? I have to say, I’m glad those people were wrong, although I did enjoy the 2009 film it inspired. Now about a month ago, I began a series exploring the origins of the zombie myth. In part one, I laid out the Haitian Voodoo origins of the “zombie” term. Essentially, a zombie is a person who is poisoned into a near-death state by a bokor (Voodoo witch doctor) and then revived, then kept under the influence of cognitive-inhibiting drugs in order to be retained as a slave. Now the question becomes: how did we go from a poisoned-revived-drugged slave of a Voodoo bokor to the flesh- or brain-eating reanimated dead that fill our silver screens today (sometimes done well, sometimes done very poorly)?

On the surface, the “reanimating of the dead” is a clue as to the connection. After all, a bokor who is reviving a person would appear to be “raising the dead.” And furthermore, a victim kept drugged and enslaved certainly tends to possess the diminished mental prowess that we see in the zombies in film. But then there’s the big kicker: the cannibalism. Where did that part of the myth come from?

One of the earliest original precursors to today’s zombies appears in Richard Matheson’s 1954 novel, I Am Legend. Although the creatures in his novel are referred to as vampires and bear many similar characteristics to vampires (aversion to light and holy objects, as well as the protagonist’s choice to kill them with stakes through the heart), the behavior of Matheson’s vampires are closer to the rabid zombies that showed up in fiction later on. But the more far-reaching effect of I Am Legend was its influence upon the father of the zombie genre: George A. Romero.

Romero’s 1968 film, Night of the Living Dead, can truly be considered the film that transformed the zombie myth into what it is today. In this movie, the dead are brought back to life presumably as a result of a space probe exploding in the atmosphere, dispersing a strange type of radiation that it picked up from Venus (that came from the movie, so don’t get mad at me for the scientific issues there). These reanimated dead – referred to in the movie simply as ghouls – are cannibalistic in nature, appear in swarms and spread their infection through biting.

It took another 17 years before Dan O’Bannon’s 1985 film, Return of the Dead, switched up the mythos, with the zombies specifically interested in brains, as opposed to simply flesh. While the brain-eating function of zombies (as well as government experimentation being the origin of the zombiism) are staples of the zombie genre, those two points appear to be dying out in recent years, with many good and terrible zombie films following more in line with the Romero conception.

So George A. Romero – under the influence of Richard Matheson’s novel – seems to have bridged the gap between the Voodoo bokor zombies and the flesh-eating living dead in film and television today. But interestingly enough, in his original 1968 film, Romero never actually used the word “zombie”; that name was applied by the fans afterward, and it stuck. Romero has since come to be identified as the “Godfather of the Zombie Genre,” though the contributions of Matheson and O’Bannon should not be overlooked.

Until next time, friends…

Stay tuned for my next blog post, in which I’ll explore some of the deeper, cultural impacts of zombie films!

A Christian Defense of the Horror Genre

Good day! With Halloween this coming Friday, I thought it might be good to recycle an old post of mind, A Defense of the Horror Genre, initially published on November 4th, 2013. It may be an oldie, but it’s a goodie, so with moderate changes, I hope you enjoy it.

There’s a moderate controversy in the Christian community over whether or not to celebrate Halloween, with many citing its pagan origins and “dark” preoccupation as things to be avoided. Personally, I see Halloween as a celebration of the horror genre, a particularly popular area of fiction, both in film and literature. But should Christians avoid the genre for its dark focus? Can nothing good be gleaned from it?

While it is certainly dangerous to dabble out of the light and stumble in the darkness, there are actually some benefits that can be garnered from horror. Primarily, works of horror often fall into a paradigm of good versus evil. The main character is often toted as innocent, or, at least, capable of good, whereas the villain is typically too far down the road to hell to be saved. As such, the villain must be destroyed. On the surface level, the triumph over a monster with a violent persuasion sets a positive example of the Christian fighting against evil on behalf of all that is good. He is removing danger and destruction in order to bring forth peace and light. But on a deeper level, it sets a dangerous dualism, an us-versus-them scenario in which the enemy is unlovable and irredeemable. As Christians, I would press forward the possibility of, rather than destroying the enemy, trying to save him from himself. He may be violent and dangerous, with bitterness and rage in his heart, but if you can win that heart back into the light, then you have truly vanquished the monster and saved a soul in the process.

Now this leads me to my second point: sometimes – though much less often – a particular piece of horror will focus on what appears to be a monster, but turns out not to be so. Frankenstein’s Monster, for instance, was abandoned and persecuted, and as a result he fell into destructive tendencies. The less frightening Monsters, Inc. pushes this point in reverse, where humans are greatly feared, but later learned to be safe. This type of writing, the understanding of apparently evil to be actually good is a valuable lesson for Christians to learn. In an episode of the horror series, Supernatural, the main characters stumble upon a “nest” of vampires which they immediately seek to exterminate. However, by the end of the episode, they learn that the vampires have resorted to drinking animal blood out of a refusal to harm human beings, and the heroes of the show allow them to go free, realizing that these vampires who were immediately regarded as evil were actually good at heart.

And so we can take some of these lessons as a guide for how we should live, not judging by appearance but by truth. There are also what I call “negative models” in horror as well. I wrote a story awhile back about a girl who discovered a demon-possessed book and fell into witchcraft, not all at once but step by imperceptible step. Another, more recent story, chronicles a dangerous man as he searches the world for monsters, only realizing in the end that the greatest monster is the one inside himself. These stories tell the reader distinctly what not to do; they are negative models for how to live our lives, their ultimate end serving to frighten us away from the temptations of the darkness.

Lastly, and more secularly, the horror genre offers an almost unparalleled level of psychological insight into the characters. The first two films of the horror franchise, Saw, focus very much on the psychological development of characters placed in extreme circumstances. When a person is backed into a corner and fear creeps into their mind, you can be surprised what else waits inside their noggin, what reactions and mental notions manifest and allow the audience to dive ever-so-much-more deeply into their unconscious mental faculties. And sometimes, the audience is left with a reflective opportunity to look deeper into their own minds as well.

These all sound well and nice, you say, but are there pitfalls to avoid in the horror genre? Most assuredly, be not confused. Gore has, in recent decades, become an unmistakable staple of the genre, to my bitter dismay. Some films and books feel that a piece of horror is not complete unless it can double as a lesson in anatomy. I find this to be bad writing, a pitiful attempt to replace genuine thought and circumstantial development with a surface-level “gross factor.” Sex, in addition, muddies the waters of good and bad fiction. Sex, in my mind, merely plays on the libido of the audience as a way to entice them, rather than letting the actual story speak for itself. Slasher movies* often capitalize on these two factors.

So can the horror genre be trusted to teach us valuable lessons? Most assuredly, as long as good discernment is used. As with any genre, horror is flooded with cheap works using bad tools and teaching irresponsible lessons. But don’t let these things deter you from the good works, for they are capable of teaching us a great deal, both about ourselves and about what it truly means to “walk in the light.

Until next time, friends…

Stay tuned for my next blog post, in which I discuss the concept of outsiders allying together!

* A “Slasher Movie” is typically a film with a popular villain bent on nothing more than a killing spree, with such villains as Freddy Krueger, Jason Voorhees, Michael Myers, etc. Personally, I am a fan of the Freddy Krueger franchise for its creativity in plot and story, and the fact that sex and gore are utilized to a much lesser extent than in other Slasher franchises.

In Defense of the Horror Genre

With Halloween just behind us, many people have just borne through the quetions over whether or not to celebrate the holiday. This is a strong controversy in the Christian community, with many citing Halloween’s pagan origins and “dark” preoccupation as things to be avoided. Personally, I see Halloween as a celebration of the horror genre, a particularly popular area of fiction, both in film and literature. But should Christians avoid the genre for its dark focus? Can nothing good be gleaned from it?

While it is certainly dangerous to dabble out of the light and stumble in the darkness, there are actually some benefits that can be garnered from horror. Primarily, works of horror often fall into a paradigm of good versus evil. The main character is often toted as innocent, or, at least, capable of good, whereas the villain is typically too far down the road to hell to be saved. As such, the villain must be destroyed. On the surface level, the triumph over a monster with a violent persuasion sets a positive example of the Christian fighting against evil on behalf of all that is good. He is removing danger and destruction in order to bring forth peace and light. But on a deeper level, it sets a dangerous dualism, an us-versus-them scenario in which the enemy is unlovable and irredeemable. As Christians, I would press forward the possibility of, rather than destroying the enemy, trying to save him from himself. He may be violent and dangerous, with bitterness and rage in his heart, but if you can win that heart back into the light, then you have truly vanquished the monster and saved a soul in the process.

Now this leads me to my second point: sometimes – though much less often – a particular piece of horror will focus on what appears to be a monster, but turns out not to be so. Frankenstein’s Monster, for instance, was abandoned and persecuted, and as a result he fell into destructive tendencies. The less frightening Monsters, Inc. pushes this point in reverse, where humans are greatly feared, but later learned to be safe. This type of writing, the understanding of apparently evil to be actually good is a valuable lesson for Christians to learn. In an episode of the horror series, Supernatural, the main characters stumble upon a “nest” of vampires which they immediately seek to exterminate. However, by the end of the episode, they learn that the vampires have resorted to drinking animal blood out of a refusal to harm human beings, and the heroes of the show allow them to go free, realizing that these vampires who were immediately regarded as evil were actually good at heart.

And so we can take some of these lessons as a guide for how we should live, not judging by appearance but by truth. There are also what I call “negative models” in horror as well. I wrote a story a while back about a girl who discovered a demon-possessed book and fell into witchcraft, not all at once but step by imperceptible step. Another, more recent story, chronicles a dangerous man as he searches the world for monsters, only realizing in the end that the greatest monster is the one inside himself. These stories tell the reader distinctly what not to do; they are negative models for how to live our lives, their ultimate end serving to frighten us away from the temptations of the darkness.

Lastly, and more secularly, the horror genre offers an almost unparalleled level of psychological insight into the characters. The first two films of the horror franchise, Saw, focus very much on the psychological development of characters placed in extreme circumstances. When a person is backed into a corner and fear creeps into their mind, you can be surprised what else waits inside their noggin, what reactions and mental notions manifest and allow the audience to dive ever-so-much-more deeply into their unconscious mental faculties. And sometimes, the audience is left with a reflective opportunity to look deeper into their own minds as well.

These all sound well and nice, you say, but are there pitfalls to avoid in the horror genre? Most assuredly, be not confused. Gore has, in recent decades, become an unmistakable staple of the genre, to my bitter dismay. Some films and books feel that a piece of horror is not complete unless it can double as a lesson in anatomy. I find this to be bad writing, a pitiful attempt to replace genuine thought and circumstantial development with a surface-level “gross factor.” Sex, in addition, muddies the waters of good and bad fiction. Sex, in my mind, merely plays on the libido of the audience as a way to entice them, rather than letting the actual story speak for itself. Slasher movies* often capitalize on these two factors.

So can the horror genre be trusted to teach us valuable lessons? Most assuredly, as long as good discernment is used. As with any genre, horror is flooded with cheap works using bad tools and teaching irresponsible lessons. But don’t let these things deter you from the good works, for they are capable of teaching us a great deal, both about ourselves and about what it truly means to “walk in the light.”

Until next time, friends…

* A “Slasher Movie” is typically a film with a popular villain bent on nothing more than a killing spree, with such villains as Freddy Krueger, Jason Voorhees, Michael Myers, etc. Personally, I am a fan of the Freddy Krueger franchise for its creativity in plot and story, and the fact that sex and gore are utilized to a much lesser extent than in other Slasher franchises.