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Where is King Kong when we need him?

By
PATRICK MACIAS

I was raised by monsters. Bathed in cathode rays or huddled in darkened cinemas, I grew up hooked on horror and phantasmagoria of every variety. King Kong, Frankenstein, the Creature from the Black Lagoon and the Invisible Man have been my best friends. Godzilla -- in all his chaotic, city-stomping glory -- became my role model. My long-term relationship with the creatures of the night even gave me a vocation; several times a year I am asked to lecture on the history of Japanese movie monsters.

Yet I find the current crop of monsters -- particularly those inhabiting this summer's movie screens -- bloodless and boring. The aliens of "Independence Day" are no match for the space invaders from "War of the Worlds" (1953). The computer generated "star" of "Dragonheart" can't hold a candle to the stop-motion animated dragon from "The Seventh Voyage of Sinbad" (1958). Slick and transient, modern monsters are curiously lifeless, lacking in any real meaning.

All the truly great movie monsters exhibit human desires that have been thwarted and denied. When, 63 years ago, Kong, the Beast, reached out to his Beauty, only to be shot down from his perch on the Empire State Building, it was tragic and compelling. Compare the aliens of "Independence Day," who can only utter "die," to Dracula's declaration: "To die, to really be dead, that must be glorious."

The way today's monsters are made adds to the problem. The multimillion-dollar, computer-generated dinosaurs of "Jurassic Park" may have heralded the high-tech revolution in monster movies, but Godzilla -- created in 1955 with a low-budget and pure imagination -- will outlast them all. Computer graphics have a glossy, polished texture that brings to mind slick, expensive TV commercials. Unfortunately, even the Big G is about to get the same treatment. An American "Godzilla" remake now in the works promises a high-tech makeover for the former man-in-a-suit monster.

Re-making monsters lessens their impact. Just look what happened to Quasimodo. What is Disney's animated, musical version compared to Lon Chaney's heartbreaking performance in the 1923 film version of "The Hunchback of Notre Dame"? Making the grotesque cuddly may be good for selling toys, but it eliminates its deeper meaning.

So why does the world need monsters that matter? Because the human imagination needs exercise to stay healthy, and grappling with the weird and horrible offers a major mental workout. Stephen King (whose monsters I wholeheartedly endorse) has said, "Things can prove, by their very darkness, to be an enlightening experience." From great monsters, I've learned that death is not to be feared (Dracula), violent and anti-social instincts must be kept at bay (Frankenstein) and chaos is always waiting to manifest itself (Godzilla). Modern monsters offer no such insights.

However I'm confident that with the passing of time, monsters will return to their former glory. As long as we have light, we will always have darkness, and the darkness of a movie theater is where monsters dwell best.

Patrick Macias edits Arcadia Magazine, an online zine that reviews Japanese monster videos, among other topics.

© Pacific News Service