Theology of Horror

"Dawn of the Dead". Courtesy of the Laurel Group

Horror fans two generations back have nostalgic memories of cuddling up in front of the television, or at the drive-in, to watch old black-and-white creature features. They would hide under a blanket or cover their eyes, and watch as zombies were destroyed with a simple shotgun blast to the head, vampires cowered at a few cloves of garlic or a crucifix, and werewolves had their bite taken away by a single silver bullet to the chest.

Those were the good ol' days of horror, when battling the undead and creatures of the night seemed so simple. Little did we know that the mythology of some of our favorite movie monsters would grow to become so complex. Nor could we fathom that the rules for dispatching them would be rewritten so many times it would make our head spin faster than Linda Blair's in The Exorcist (1973).

Scare Us, Don't Bore Us

The moral conservatives of the Victorian era provided western culture with a rich and lasting heritage of superstitions, which use vivid metaphors to expose the depraved side of human nature. Legends have popped up from other parts of the world as well, exploiting the fear of our dark side through vampires, werewolves, zombies and myriad other undead monsters.

"Blade" - Courtesy of New Line Cinema

Of course, what good is a legend if it isn't told and retold through the ages? But in the process of making entertainment out of folklore, Hollywood films have mixed and matched the original sources beyond recognition. Justifiable artistic license or sacrilege? The line is blurry, not to mention bloody.

The origin of "zombi" stems from Haitian Voodoo culture and means "spirit of the dead." Local folklore contends that voodoo priests, called Bokors, possessed the ability to resurrect the deceased - often someone who had been intolerable when alive - and make them their slave.

Universal Studios turned this legend into the film White Zombie (1932) starring Bela Lugosi. As a rich Haitian businessman, he takes it upon himself to win the hand of a lady by turning her husband into a zombie, clearing the way for a romance with her. Lust and fright; no muss, no fuss.

Universal went on to make movies about the popular vampire, Dracula (1931), as well as the Werewolf of London (1935). The rules of killing the beasts in these films were pretty basic. With a simple bullet or vial of holy water, goodness would prevail.

"From Dusk Till Dawn" - Courtesy of A Band Apart/Dimension/Miramax/Les Hooligans Productions

How far we've come. The monsters have gotten smarter and more resilient, and much of the magic and mysticism has flown out the window like, well, a bat out of Hell. In The Blade Trilogy (1998-2004), for example, things got amped to a fevered pitch. Writers and directors concocted hybrid strains of vampires in their plotlines on purpose, so that it would take whole arsenals of new super-weapons to bring them down. Note: No magic or sorcery used, just good old-fashioned artillery.

Of course, there are still filmmakers and fans who take all the old myth-making seriously. What are they thinking? Did they really enjoy Francis Ford Coppola's ultra-Gothic take on Bram Stoker's Dracula (1992), beyond appreciating Gary Oldman's brilliant performance? Or Tom Cruise's scenery-chewing in the snoozer Interview with a Vampire (1994)? When Queen of the Damned (2002) came out, it made a resounding thud at the box office. Maybe that's because Stuart Townsend's Lestat, rather than kicking serious undead butt, had his panties in a bunch over a girl who wouldn't convert to the dark side.

Audiences prefer the souped-up scares of From Dusk Till Dawn (1996) or The Blade Trilogy. Directors such as Robert Rodriguez and Guillermo Del Toro know how short the audience's attention span is, and they don't dwell on the corny romanticism. They just make up some new strains of the creatures and use some bitchin' new weaponry to take them out. Soon, George Clooney is cocking a tricked-out crossbow, and it's show time.

Audiences have seen the vampires and werewolves of the drive-in days morph into streamlined CGI juggernauts that open films week after week at the box office. The stakes have been raised, if you will, and we wouldn't want it any other way.

"American Werewolf in London". Courtesy of American Werewolf Inc.

Dead Again

The zombie genre is the latest beneficiary of renewed attention. After Fox's critically-acclaimed 28 Days Later (2002) and its sequel, 28 Weeks Later (2007), pulled in a combined $140 million worldwide, the studios took notice. Sony's Screen Gems arm turned the popular video game series into the very-profitable Resident Evil Trilogy (2002-2007), helmed first and second by Paul W.S. Anderson and third by Russel Mulcahy, and all starring the hard-on-the-eyes Milla Jovovich. The series' first two films brought in a very undead $213 million combined worldwide, with the final film, Resident Evil: Extinction, raking in $36+ million worldwide since its September release.

"I have always liked the monster-within idea. I like the zombies being us. Zombies are the blue-collar monsters," said George Romero of his second zombie feature, 1978's Dawn of the Dead. But Romero sure did take his sweet time, with all those methodically slow scenes in the mall intended as his commentary on social conformity.

In 2004, Universal fast-tracked a remake of Dawn, putting music video director Zack Snyder at the helm. He not only cranked the concept to a higher decibel level, he also managed to chop off some of the fat of its predecessor.

"People have gravitated toward zombies for a variety of reasons, and for me, it is mostly because you can kill them with impunity. There's no moral imperative," said Snyder at the premiere of the film. "No one is going to be morally outraged. So there's that, which I think is great. But also, beyond that, zombies present an anonymous enemy that doesn't rely on politics or skin color."

When Universal gave the maestro Romero a shot in making another sequel to his own zombie franchise titled Land of the Dead (2005) , geek critics and bloggers went wild over the film's supposed reflection of a tuned-out, Bush-run America. Baloney! I was bored to tears by this clunky malarkey. Romero has run to the Weinsteins over at Dimension to release the equally heavy sounding Diary of the Dead next year.  Early reports from Toronto have Romero ripping off an idea from the DVD extras of Snyder's Dawn remake, by reportedly utilizing "found footage" from a lost film crew ala The Blair Witch Project to bore us with more meditation on our lost civilization.   Just give me some zombies that feed on human flesh and then get their heads blown off.

I'll take my werewolves in the same fashion. Die-hards who insist on calling these hairy beasts "lycanthropes" - and can't wait for the inevitable Underworld sequel to come out - can go ahead and send me their hate mail. Or they could get over it and rent Joe Dante's The Howling (1980). They will be re-introduced to a time when the rules of horror movies didn't matter, and John Carradine howling at the moon saved a creature feature from being a bore. The steamy sex scene between two transforming beasts didn't hurt its cult status, either.

One surefire way to keep movie monsters relevant, rather than wallowing in the arcane theology of their creation and their metaphorical significance, is with humor. Werewolf films have been at their box-office best when the comedy is biting. The 1981 John Landis-directed classic, American Werewolf in London, is by far the best film of its genre. Why? Because it doesn't try to take the werewolf legend seriously at all.

Just ask Elvira, who's made a living off of not taking horror seriously since 1981. Sex, smirks and cheap thrills sell horror films. Too many rules, magic and morals just spoil the scares.