Once upon a time, there were monsters.
When I was growing up, monsters were a metaphor for everything I was ever afraid of – creatures that crawled on nameless appendages through the abandoned toys and clothes under my bed and in my closet. No matter what movie they appeared in, they were the villain, standing in for anything from STDs and the dangers of sex to the violence that lurks within the heart of every man. They were evil abominations that fascinated us even as they disemboweled and eviscerated all who stood in their way on screen in movies like “Silver Bullet” and “The Monster Squad.”
Now, in the Twilight era, there are no monsters, only Tiger Beat centerfolds. They’re bastardized milquetoast versions of once-proud paragons of destruction. Vampires no longer burst into flame when exposed to sunlight – they sparkle like hemoglobin-starved My Little Ponies. Rather than taking the innocence of nubile young women and turning them to soulless concubines of the night, they mope and sigh dramatically. Werewolves, once agonized by their bone-rending transformation, now shift from man to wolf in an eye blink and seem more interested in tanning than in gnawing on humans for a tasty low-cholesterol snack.
To my son and I, this is a travesty of epic proportions. Hundreds of years of lore and tradition behind these once-badass nightstalkers thrown out to give pubescent girls the chance to fantasize about Taylor Hanson-esque vampires. He misses the excitement of seeing a legend come to life while I marvel at the lengths parents will go to remove any semblance of threat and fear from their children’s lives. More and more, giving our children a sanitized adolescence has become a pathetic cottage industry – reducing unkillable creatures of the night to glittery ewoks with spectacular muscle definition. These creatures are not supposed to be friendly. They’re designed to be the unexplainable — an embodiment of the id and all the darkness the world has to offer and a reminder that good is not universal.
Luckily, it’s an industry I don’t have to take part in. In this house, creatures still rise from the grave stinking of viscera and decay. Death dogs our steps and something may just lurk in the shadows at the bottom of the basement steps, with nary a damned sparkle in sight. And my son is the better for it.
Couldn't agree more. It's similar to how Halloween costumes have gone from being about scary, dead things to slutty maids and football players. Which, I guess given all of the violence they're involved with off the field might be applicable. “Look out! Uncle Ray Ray is right behind you and his friend's gonna stab ya!”
I hadn't thought about it like this, but you are right. Perhaps it's part of why I'm not a Twilight fan either.
Couldn't agree more. It's similar to how Halloween costumes have gone from being about scary, dead things to slutty maids and football players. Which, I guess given all of the violence they're involved with off the field might be applicable. “Look out! Uncle Ray Ray is right behind you and his friend's gonna stab ya!”
I hadn't thought about it like this, but you are right. Perhaps it's part of why I'm not a Twilight fan either.
It's a pretty sad state of affairs. Especially given that the most popular horror movies are the torture porn flicks like Saw. Why make monsters when people are about as scary as it gets?
It's a pretty sad state of affairs. Especially given that the most popular horror movies are the torture porn flicks like Saw. Why make monsters when people are about as scary as it gets?
It's a pretty sad state of affairs. Especially given that the most popular horror movies are the torture porn flicks like Saw. Why make monsters when people are about as scary as it gets?