True, vampires have had a recent upsurge in popularity. But this is probably just a hangover from Stephanie Meyer's wildly lucrative Twilight series. Because I am pathologically incapable of putting aside even the worst book once I've started reading it, I have read all four of these. I can't believe how many of the normally self-respecting women I know will sigh and swoon over this sophomoric, co-dependent drivel. You can forgive 13-year-old girls for being on Team Edward, but anyone who has had a mature relationship and still finds this story romantic needs to have their head examined. Then again, who wouldn't fall for a pasty, narcissistic, emotionally unavailable boy who nonetheless needs her in order not to behave like a complete asshole? Plus, he sparkles in the sunshine! It's like a boyfriend and a My Little Pony all rolled into one bloodthirsty package!
I don't want to nay-say all the vampire narratives that are riding in Twilight's wake. For instance, I hear that HBO's "True Blood" is actually quite funny. I just think Bianculli is exaggerating vampires' preeminence as monster du jour. It's long been a pet notion of mine that our favorite monsters are a reflection of our deepest anxieties: thus, xenophobes fear extraterrestrials, those with significant regrets fear ghosts, those who fear their own capacity for anger are fascinated by werewolves, and so on.* Vampires have always struck me as the perfect Victorian monster, because they tap into our fear of our own sexuality and of what happens when the basest human passions are left unchecked. Zombies, however, are inherently post-modern. For those of us who are fascinated by zombies, the scariest thing imaginable is humankind's capacity for selfishness and indifference.
Think about it. First of all, zombies are often the product of a scientific experiment gone wrong or some other human intervention. In the classic zombie narrative, apathy or simple denial of the evidence are what lead to initial dissemination of the monsters. As people cluster in micro-societies seeking shelter and mutual protection, there's always some self-interested asshole who thinks s/he can do better on his/her own, as well as the guy who thinks somehow his wife is going to be a kinder, gentler zombie than everyone else's, and the whiny, cantankerous, trigger-happy hick who's utterly failing to cope: in sum, a series of individuals who let you down and gradually compromise your small group's chances of survival. This microcosm is then extrapolated over cities, nations, even continents, until no safe haven for humanity remains. By now it shouldn't be hard to see why this resonates with contemporary viewers, and with us self-reliant, can-do Americans in particular.
In short, vampires may be firmly entrenched, but zombies are also clearly here to stay.
*Bonus points for anyone who wants to advance a theory about what people who fear clowns are really afraid of.
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