Modern Monsters Essay Research Paper AUTHOR Patrick

Modern Monsters Essay, Research Paper

AUTHOR:

Patrick McCormick

TITLE:

Why modern monsters have become alien to us

SOURCE:

U.S. Catholic v61 p37-41 N ‘96

The magazine publisher is the copyright holder of this article and it is reproduced with permission.

Further reproduction of this article in violation of the copyright is prohibited.

Late autumn has arrived and with it comes the dark magic of Halloween–and, of course, the

murky thrill of monsters. Yet our appetite for a good monster knows no season. Ever since ancient

times we have been fascinated with all sorts of tales about monsters and intrigued by myths and

legends about those wild half-human beasts who haunt the edges of our forests and lurk in the

recesses of our oceans. The sphinxes, minotaurs, and sirens of early mythology gave way to Beowulf’s

Grendel and Saint George’s dragon, then to the mermaids, trolls, and one-eyed giants of our fairy and

folk tales, and finally to those 19th-century Gothic classics. Nor are these stories on the wane, for the

monster tales that made Lon Chaney, Boris Karloff, and Bela Lugosi stars of the silver screen

continue to draw megacrowds six and seven decades later.

In 1994 Kenneth Branagh and Robert DeNiro brought us the latest reincarnation of Shelley’s

story of Frankenstein’s tortured creature, and Tom Cruise and Brad Pitt starred in “Interview with a

Vampire,” the first installment of Ann Rice’s homage to Stoker’sDracula. Meanwhile, Andrew Lloyd

Weber’s musical production of Gaston Leroux’s “Phantom of the Opera” continues to pack in

audiences from London to L.A.

Much of the initial appeal of monster stories comes from the fact that they, like their twisted

siblings, “creature features” and “slashers,” both terrify and fascinate us with their ghoulish brand of

horror. It’s the rattling-the-tiger’s-cage kind of thrill that Scout and Jim Finch got from sneaking onto

Boo Radley’s porch under a pale moon. Reading or watching great monster stories, we get to

accompany the frightened heroes or heroines as they descend into the dragon’s lair; crane our necks

over the tops of books or movie seats and peek into the dank recesses of the giant cyclops’ cave;

stretch out our trembling hands and actually touch the monster’s reptilian scales, hairy paws, or cloven

hoofs; and then run screaming like a banshee the instant it wakes from its slumber. What a rush!

As frightening as these creatures are, in monster stories it is always the beast that ends up taking

the fall, which means that this is a place where we not only get to tangle with evil’s most daunting and

dangerous minions but to vanquish them with regularity. Pretty heady stuff. No wonder we never seem

to tire of these tales.

And yet the truth is that the best of these stories are much more than simple-minded creature

features. In the original versions of Frankenstein, The Hunchback of Notre Dame, “Phantom of the

Opera,” Jekyll & Hyde, and even Dracula we aren’t simply terrified and enraged by these ghouls

trolling about in our dungeons, sewers, or bell towers. Instead, in such classic monster stories we are

also haunted by an underlying sense of sympathy–and, yes, responsibility–for these misshapen men.

In their deaths and destruction we experience some pathos, some tragedy, perhaps even some shred

of regret for the ways they have been abused, goaded, and abandoned.

Nowhere is this so clear as in Frankenstein. When, at the end of Shelley’s novel, her narrator,

Walton, finally sets eyes on Victor Frankenstein’s dreaded creature, he describes him as having “a

form I cannot find words to describe; gigantic in stature, yet uncouth and distorted in its proportions …

Never did I behold a vision so horrible as his face, of such loathsome yet appalling hideousness … I

dared not again raise my eyes to his face, there was something so scaring and unearthly in his

ugliness.”

Still, Walton, like the reader, feels “a mixture of curiosity and compassion” toward this disfigured

beast. The very monster who has murdered all of Frankenstein’s loved ones is himself a tortured soul,

and the strange, misshapen creature–who has studied Plutarch and read Milton–cries out to his

human maker in such eloquent anguish that we cannot help being moved.

then, must I be hated, who am

miserable beyond all living things

… Oh Frankenstein, be not

equitable to every other, and

trample upon me alone, to whom

thy justice, and even thy

clemency and affection, is most

due … Accursed creator! Why

did you form a monster so

hideous that even you turned

from me in disgust. God, in pity,

made man beautiful and alluring,

after his own image; but my form

is a filthy type of yours, more

horrid even from the very

resemblance.

At first glance, Stevenson’s story of Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde doesn’t seem to invite much pity for

Внимание, отключите Adblock

Вы посетили наш сайт со включенным блокировщиком рекламы!
Ссылка для скачивания станет доступной сразу после отключения Adblock!

Скачать