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Notes on the Idiosyncracies of Monsters

By R. L. M.

The intellectual class, desiring always to be at one with the People, has appropriated unto itself swing music and the shaggy dog story, but it has not yet been astute enough to see in the Horror Film an equally effective exorcist of inhibitions. This pains me exceedingly, as I have been campaigning actively for some years now to secure the acceptance of Horror Films by intellectuals as One of the Subjects which may be Discussed in the Same Breath as Kafka. Naturally, I am disappointed to find myself still the Fuehrer of a Kult without a petit-bourgeoisie to bring about my apotheosis. I cannot understand my isolation: I am undoubtedly the product of a trend, I have crossed the threshold that divides the potential from the real—and Plekhanov, of course, is never wrong.

This wringing of hands is inspired by a double-feature programme which I saw yesterday, accompanied by my friend Ray (the only other adult devotee of my Kult) and about a thousand children of all ages and odours who were not of a disposition to treat the entertainment seriously. I say it was a double-feature programme; actually I think it was a triple-feature. The first twenty minutes were occupied by an African fantasy which was described as the first two episodes of a serial, but when the thing finished the heroine was in such an impossible situation—lashed to a tree, surrounded by indecorous savages, three crocodiles nibbling delicately at her toes, and the only person who could save her at least half a mile away having a little affair with a leopard—that I cannot conceive it as anything other than a grim joke, complete in itself, demonstrating the futility of existence and the absolute presence of spirit in the Universe. Ray doesn't agree with me. He says that what probably happens in the next episode is that the foremost crocodile recognises in the heroine the Little Girl who put its claw in splints in the Zoo many years before; that it thereupon rebukes the other crocodiles, who attack the savages; that the grateful crocodile then severs the girl's bonds with its teeth, carries the girl on its back to the place where the would-be rescuer is struggling with the leopard, kills the leopard, and finally carries both of them on its back towards the hills, the sunrise, and Home to the accompaniment of an invisible choir. But Ray's explanation, though ingenious, is too simple; he has not yet learned to pierce the false facade of this our world.

The other two features were called "The Revenge of the Zombies" and "The House of Frankenstein," and I am writing about them because they have clarified a number of points on which I was not previously very clear. As every Stage One student knows, the history of every science starts with a process of description and classification, and it is only gradually that general laws and inter-relations are discovered by investigators. As a result of the two films I have named, I feel that we can now state that the study of Horror Film Monsters has at last become a real science. Formerly, we were only able to tabulate and enumerate the characteristics of each Monster; now we are able to analyse the data and produce a working synthesis. You will understand what I mean if you think of a particular thing—say a lion—and remember the means by which you gained your present knowledge of its idiosyncracies. Probably you saw a picture of a lion first in a spelling book, and thus found out what it looked like. You then went to the Zoo and heard what page 25 it sounded like. You studied geography, and found where the lion lived. You studied biology, and found out the manner in which the lion reproduced its kind. In exactly the same way, we gained our original conception of Dracula and Frankenstein's Monster from the first film masterpieces in which these Beings were depicted. But the original film left many things unexplained, and it is only by studying the later films one by one that we can fill in the gaps in our knowledge and adduce general laws of conduct for these fascinating Monsters.

I may admit here that my researches so far are only definitive in the cases of four Monsters, and even here there are a few puzzling inconsistencies and lacunae which later investigators will no doubt clarify. I shall be quite satisfied if the result of my work spurs on other students to follow in my humble foot-steps. The data is not yet sufficient to lead to conclusions in the cases of Mummies, Ape-Men, Cat-People, Ghosts, and Members of the Holy Family. In the following four cases, however, satisfactory results have been achieved: 1. Wolf-Men; 2. Vampires; 3. Frankenstein's Monsters; 4. Zombies.

1.

Wolf-Men: A Wolf-Man is an individual who bears a striking resemblance to Oscar Wilde, and who sprouts a beard, long hair, claws and pointed teeth, every time there is a full moon. His habitat is somewhere in Central Europe. Whenever he goes on the loose he kills at least one person in ghastly fashion. The most interesting feature of this Monster is that his soul can be laid at rest and the beast within him killed only if he is slain by a silver bullet made and fired by a woman who loves him and who understands. This coincidence of events rarely occurs. The Wolf-Man may be preserved in. ice for many years without perishing. He is allergic to full moons and to any Monster which bears the trade mark of Frankenstein. Between full moons, the Monster is of a kind and patient disposition, and sexually normal, although a little inhibited.

2.

Vampires: Like the Wolf-Man, the Vampire's habitat is somewhere in Central Europe. The Vampire is invariably called Dracula, and both father and son possess the same idiosyncracies (with slight variations due no doubt to mutations). Sometimes, by way of exception, the Vampire goes under the name of Alucard. The Vampire sleeps during the day, usually in a coffin in a swamp. It appears in the evening with a title and attired in a black cloak, and during the hours between sunset and sunrise it may appear either as a noble lord or as a big black bat, whichever it desires. Its sexual behaviour is rather pathological: it entices women from their husbands and sweethearts, not for the usual purposes, but in order that the woman may also become a Vampire, vamping with him every night and retiring platonically in the same coffin during the day. (Sometimes, the Vampire prefers twin coffins).

The Vampire eats and drinks, but prefers sucking the blood from human beings, whom it hypnotises into immobility and then attacks in the shape of a bat, sinking its two front teeth into the neck of its victim. Normally, it cannot be wounded by guns or other lethal weapons, but two particularly effective antidotes have been proved to be (a) a mysterious plant with a religious significance whose habitat is Central Europe, and (b) a Cross, the larger the better.

The Vampire can only be killed if one of two methods are employed. (a) driving a stake through its heart while it lies asleep in its coffin, or (b) delaying the Vampire so that it cannot return to its coffin before sunrise. As the Vampire takes care to hide its coffin in an accessible spot such as the bottom of a swamp, and is particularly agile, it is difficult to slay. If the sun's rays catch it, it immediately turns into a skeleton. Note carefully one qualification in respect of method (a) above. The Vampire remains dead only while the page 26 stake remains in its heart, and if the stake is removed from the skeleton fifty years later, the Vampire immediately rises once more from the dead. (Vide "The House of Frankenstein").

3.

Frankenstein's Monsters:These are intelligent automata produced by either (a) the original Frankenstein, (b) the son of Frankenstein, or (c) a mad doctor who discovers the records of (a) and/or (b) in the ruins of the castles of (a) and/or (b). So far, Frankenstein has not had a grandson, although this happy event is probably not far away. The production of these Monsters is rather difficult, and entails complicated electrical displays. The brain to be used in the process of manufacture inevitably gets dropped or otherwise disposed of by a careless assistant (usually a hunchback), and the brain of a madman or a murderer is substituted. The result is generally chaotic, although the latent tendencies of the Monster may take some time to disclose themselves. The Monster's sexual proclivities are normal. (Vide "The Bride of Frankenstein"). It has affinities with the dead, preferably in tombs inhabited by bats. It is allergic to fire and its creator. Its habitat of course, is somewhere in Central Europe.

4.

Zombies:The Zombie's habitat is not somewhere in Central Europe. It generally frequents American graveyards, but sometimes is of no settled abode. It is normally quite dead, although unwilling to lie down. There have, however, been cases where the hero or heroine in a film has been Zombiefied and has nevertheless recovered. (Vide "I Married a Zombie"). The Zombie performs useful little tasks, usually with daggers, under the guiding direction of the mad doctor who turns the dead person into a Zombie. A Zombie cannot be properly killed unless the cerebral tissues of the brain are destroyed, although there is considerable confusion regarding this point. Zombies have disappeared into the sea and into quicksands and swamps, and have presumably been killed, without their brain tissues having been noticeably affected. Zombies walk in single file, very slowly, and do the goose-step.

A number of recent Zombie films have cleared up some of the remaining doubtful points concerning the idiosyncracies of the Zombie. In the first place, controversy has for many years raged as to whether or not there are class distinctions in the Zombie world. "The Revenge of the Zombies" proves this beyond all shadow of doubt. In this film there is a negro pannikin boss Zombie, who is trusted to wait at table and to call the lowerclass Zombies to work when their master requires them. There are also apparently noticeable differences in the I.Q. of Zombies—occasionally one becomes independent, and in "The Revenge of the Zombies" one of them turned out to be patriotic. Zombies are summoned from their graves by a call which is a cross between that of the Son of Tarzan and an owl. (Aude Shaw's "Zooming with a Zombie" and the well-known song "Abercrombie Had a Zombie"). Zombies are sexually neuter.

General Characteristics of the Monsters:

1.	State: All Monsters are partially or wholly dead, except the Wolf-Man.
2.	Habitat: All Monsters necessarily reside in Central Europe except the Zombies.
3.	Human Affections: All Monsters occasionally act in a manner which leads the audience to be rather sorry for them, except the Vampire.
4.	Resurrective Capacity: All Monsters are capable of being resurrected, no matter how adequately they may appear to have been disposed of. They may be (a) preserved in ice, (b) not really killed at all, or (c) buried alive or in a state of suspended animation page 27 beneath ruins. The exception is Frankenstein's Monster, which is always capable of being refashioned provided the recipe is discovered.

Appendix.

A word or two may be added to this study concerning the salutary effect of Monster films on younger children.

1.	The films give the children a healthy faith in the omnipotence of science, and thus encourage the growth of rational thinking.
2.	Virtue is invariably triumphant, and the Monster is always disposed of (if only temporarily) at the end of the film.
3.	Monster films provide the youngsters 'With a full set of the complexes and inhibitions which are a necessary possession if modern life is to be lived to the full.
4.	Sex plays a comparatively minor part, being normally somewhere about the amoeba stage, and accordingly the films do not encourage a dangerously precocious sexual development in the child.
5.	If the children weren't at the Monster films, they'd probably be smoking or engaging in other delinquent activities.