In Defence Of Monster Movies
I absolutely love monster movies.
You know, the type of film where a scary, man-eating monster bursts onto the scene, from outer space, deep jungles or some experiment gone wrong, and goes around killing people until the good guys manage to kill it or help everyone escape from it for good.
Simple plots, with simple, formulaic characters. A good guy or girl with a brain and an intuition that bad things will happen, a bad guy or girl who somehow wants to make money off the monster, and the monster itself — scary, sinister and larger than life, and inevitably a threat to humanity.
Simple, predictable and almost always fun to watch.
My taste in film is almost diametrically opposite to my taste in literature. While I’m all about weighty, literary books, when I watch a movie I watch it for uncomplicated entertainment. Horror, thriller, adventure, mystery, sci-fi, action — you get the picture. The only intellectual elements I enjoy are adventures where complex problems need to be solved (like The Cube), or psychological horror films (Identity). But films with lofty themes, of the type that sweeps the Oscars every year? With all due respect, they’re an occasional watch for me.
My fondness for such films has been honed largely by my dad, who watches the same types of movies. His favourites are top-notch action thrillers like the Jason Bourne movies, slasher films like Scream and Friday The 13th, sci-fi flicks like Oblivion and Terminator, and monster movies like Aliens. The latter is probably one of his favourite films ever, and it ranks in my Top 20 too — not every 1982 film can continue to thrill like that! I love the concept of the Alien creature, as I do that of its arch nemesis, the Predator. Which is why I was ecstatic when I discovered that there’s an Alien Versus Predator, and that it’s a remarkably good film, unlike most crossovers I’ve seen. Aaaaaand, I admit I’ve indulged in the occasional Alien/Predator fanfiction binge…but that’s another story.
When it comes to criticising such movies, there is no shortage of things said about xenophobia, playing God and making illegal money. ‘Animal rights’ takes the top spot, even though all the monsters are either CGI or people in suits. Another body of detractors preaches the idea that such movies could instil the ‘wrong ideas’ in the minds of kids who watch them, making them grow up into violent and bigoted adults. To the claims of violence and bigotry, I say — if monster movies do instil such traits in kids, it would be stretching the truth to breaking point. Sure, you have to deal with kids running around with water pistols and roaring like dinosaurs, but how many of them actually end up being gangsters? And as for bigotry, films portraying bigotry are actually likelier to inculcate empathy than otherwise.
From a broader point of view — why is it that we enjoy monster movies so much? The answer is simple — they’re just plain fun. Sometimes, what we want when we come home after a long day is a simple, enjoyable plot where there’s a monster to give us plenty of thrills and the comfort of knowing that everything will be okay in the end. No subtle details, no zillion-layer psychological interpretations, no profound camera angles. Just lots of thrills and lots of entertainment. For two hours, we want to give our intellects a rest and take ourselves on a guilt-free fantasy trip — and the last thing we want is some pedantic guru preaching about the moral repercussions of watching these movies.
And since we like analysing films so much, here’s an interpretation for you — monster films are a reminder that on the silver screen, at least, we can be in control. Think about all the famous screen monsters out there. Alien, Predator, Godzilla, King Kong, Anaconda, the dinosaurs in Jurassic Park, the alligators in Lake Placid, the mega sharks in Jaws and The Meg, the kaiju in Pacific Rim. Big, scary, outstripping humans by a factor of a gazillion when it comes to strength and/or superpowers — they are foes that are well nigh impossible to beat, and often aren’t beaten even when the heroes escape — witness the escape of the pterodactyls in Jurassic Park Three. We almost certainly wouldn’t survive unscathed if Godzilla really visited New York or if alligators forgot their placid origins. Brilliant ideas and miraculous escapes tend to evade us when we most need them — case in point, the astonishing rate at which people forget their own product pitch when in an elevator with their boss. But on the movie screen, we’re in charge. We choose who’s going to die, we choose how powerful the monster is, we choose its weaknesses, we choose how and when it finally gets vanquished. We know it’s all going to come right in the end, that we’ll slip back into our comfortable if monotonous lives no matter how many monsters threaten to spoil that. And if you ask me, we all deserve to feel that comforting sense of control in a world where things slip out of our control faster than Nutella jars get emptied.
Moviemaking is an art, and there is no art without experimentation. Filmmakers are breaking all kinds of boundaries nowadays and creating some gems in the process — which is great. There are, however, a few cinematic tropes that will always work no matter which decade we live in — and the monster film is one of them. They may not always be blockbusters, but they will do solid business and, with a bit of luck, establish their own cult following. And when there’s money to be made and people to be entertained, well, quite honestly, why not?
