The Beasts We Adore

 

   Greetings, fellow Mutants! I’d like to formally thank you for visiting this week’s blog article about the last, and in some ways (as you’ll see) the most significant of the #ThreeB’s.

    This week we’re looking at the Beasts of Drive-In cinema. Be forewarned – this may be difficult for a few to digest as it will touch on some hard to swallow truths...

...and with that foreboding introduction let’s get into it!

    Let’s begin by defining what beasts means. Merriam-Webster suggests it can be a few things: a four-footed mammal as distinguished from a human being, a lower animal in the same vein, an animal under human control, a contemptible person, or something formidably difficult to control or deal with. As we can see it has a plethora of similar yet distinct meanings which can be applied in a multitude of ways.

    Each type of these beasts have been used in cinema to help explain metaphorical narratives since its budding beginnings. One of the earliest silent films was recently discussed in a wonderful thread by @KaitHorrorBreak on X regarding a very literal interpretation of a beast in "The Golem" (read her thread here). 

DVD cover for The Golem

 

 Other examples from the silent era include Nosferatu, a beastly vampire who fed upon innocence to satiate his blood lust, 

Promotional for Nosferatu

and Conrad Veidt’s portrayal of The Man Who Laughs (which prominently inspired the look of The Joker in DC Comics, Batman’s greatest adversary). This is one of the earliest examples in cinema of a man having grotesque qualities and therefore unfairly labeled "beast-like". 

Conrad Veidt as Gwynplaine.

    As films advanced in technology, productions and effects became bigger and the beasts became ever more real. Outfits such as Universal Pictures would soon capitalize upon their appeal mass appeal. Classic horror titles like Dracula, The Wolfman, The Creature from the Black Lagoon, and Frankenstein ushered in audiences never seen before. The allure of beasts and their subtext spoke volumes to the populace. There was a sort of magnetic draw during the decades which over saw global human travesty like The Great Depression and World War I and II. People sought and found solace in seeing these monsters on the big screen; they related to them in ways they couldn’t articulate but could psychologically identify with on some subconscious level.

    The popularity of beasts waned and ebbed but never left the main stream consciousness as they would continue to evolve to become bigger, scarier, and more destructive. Godzilla and King Kong laid waste to entire cities while they searched for some sense of understanding. A giant kaiju monster that was a symbol for the utter destructiveness and devastation of atomic bombs? A hellishly large and misunderstood gorilla becoming an allegory that helped us explore sexuality, gender, racism, and inequality? All were themes for us as viewers to relate to social and political issues while understanding the beast was all of and simultaneously the least of us. 

Godzilla and an atomic explosion

 

King Kong menacing the city.

    Horror would continue to regale us with these stories and our beasts would become more nuanced and human while still maintaining some sense of monstrosity. We would come to devour films that teased us with glimpses into the darker side of humanity. George Romero's Night of the Living Dead was recognized as one of the first celluloid stories that painted humanity as the beast, illustrating that we can easily lose our humanity when confronted by zombies and their inevitable apocalypse. The irony of our reaction to beasts diminishing our morals and humanity, birthing even more fearsome creatures, would not be lost upon us. Even Scooby-Doo drilled this message home, showing us at the end of every episode that it was humankind who made up the monsters that preyed upon us.

 

It's about to get bad in the farm house.

Fred doesn't even look surprised anymore.

    As part of the Mutant Family, we recognize as much within ourselves. Mutants, after all, are shunned much like beasts are in today's society. Roger Corman’s Humanoids From the Deep perfectly encapsulates us all, doesn’t it? Hungry and horny mutations of humanity, seeking to satiate our lust for blood and breasts with no regard for who it may hurt in our quest. 

Corman probably wasn't trying to be prescient but I think we can agree he was.

 

   That took a bit of a curve, didn't it? The slow transition of examining our sacred beasts from outward appearances on film to bitter inward introspection. While the jump may seem abrupt its purposeful. Jarring realizations tend to be more impactful. It can be difficult to look inside of ourselves and accept that part of us -that we are those beasts of humanity. The films we watch weren't saying others are, however much we would like to interpret it that way. The films we love have obliquely pointed out we need to be aware of our shadow selves. We have all hurt another in the name of greed or selfishness or self-preservation, even when we could have prevented it and chosen not to. We all have a dark spot on our souls that sometimes over powers our light. Its part and parcel to why we relate so well to monsters and their mayhem. We vociferously cheer bedlam and chaos when presented to us in a safe environment like film. It speaks to that part of our animalistic, beastly being. It can even be cathartic. 

Carl Jung coined the term 'shadow self'. It refers to the things we repress or do not like to acknowledge about ourselves

 

    Most people may not like this and I realize this post could cause some cognitive dissonance for a few readers. Admitting we’re flawed is hard but not impossible. I’m here to encourage you to not dismiss doing so out of hand. Rather, examine it in minute detail and seek to accept and understand it. We are wondrous creatures, fully capable of good and bad as much in one breathe as the next. Having one does not curtail the other. Rather it balances the two and allows us to appreciate what we, and others, are capable of so that we can react accordingly.

    We love beasts because we are beasts. Its one of the reasons we relish seeing them on the screen. We are allowed to live vicariously through a fictional, objectively impotent monster, absolving us of any guilt we may feel for adoring how we could, if we allowed ourselves, to ravish others like they do, with inhumane abandon. It also diminishes our desire to feel the need to do so ourselves because it simultaneously invokes empathy and sympathy with those who suffer.

    In the end, being a beast and recognizing it, and us, for what it is and what we are can make us better people. Embrace the beast within but do so cautiously. Neitzsche reminds us, after all: