Message to Hollywood: No More 'Devastation Porn,' Please.
The latest installment of “Godzilla” is a lackluster affair, but something deeper bothered me about it, which I couldn't quite put a name to until I saw it used by a critic. He called it “devastation porn.”
That’s it, I thought. It’s nothing new, exactly. We all know that Tokyo was destroyed by the original “Gojira.” Science fiction monsters and space aliens wreaking mayhem and havoc is part of their job description. In the last several three or four decades, movies have attempted to recreate realistic depictions of floods, tsunamis, earthquakes, volcanos, global warming, and nuclear catastrophe, with varying degrees of success.
But with every technological advance and blockbuster release, the realism of, and penchant for, devastation porn increases. Moreover, there is a telltale focus on a certain type of imagery, almost always involving the toppling and collapse of tall buildings. Of the dozens, if not hundreds, of movies that employ such imagery, a few that jump to mind are the Superman reboot of 2006 (“Superman Returns”), “The Dark Knight” of 2008, and this year’s Godzilla.
What we are witnessing, in short, is not just devastation porn. It is 9/11 porn.
Now I am not a psychologist, so I can’t offer a cogent explanation as to why we feel the need to witness, over and over again, the kind of devastation we suffered on 9/11. I’m not even sure if it’s us, or the particular obsession of the Hollywood studios, beset, perhaps, by a kind of angst or guilt-ridden need to demonstrate eternal sympathy, patriotism, or both. A less charitable theory might suggest that they can simply exploit human nature – the difficulty we all have in averting our eyes from catastrophe – to make money hand over fist.
Classic 9/11 porn involves buildings collapsing straight down and being pulverized as they go. In case we don’t get the connection, people emerge from billows of dust and debris covered in gray powder. This happens in “Godzilla.” An interesting, but no less symbolic, variation takes place in 2009’s “Avatar,” when the Navi’s “Home Tree” is reduced to ashes.
Skyscrapers being struck and/or gouged comes across as another 9/11 reference, though sometimes this image calls to mind the 1995 bombing of the Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City, as well. Again, “Godzilla” is replete in shots of torn-up, half-standing buildings. A construction crane causes the graphic destruction of one side of a skyscraper in “The Dark Knight.” And, most disturbingly, the poster art for that movie shows a burning skyscraper with a section outlined in flame, recalling the section of World Trade Center Tower 2 gouged by a plane – except that the outline is in the shape of the Batman symbol.
The question is, what do these constant, graphic, vivid, and unsettlingly realistic depictions of 9/11 destruction say about our collective psyche? What effect will they have on us – especially on the youth who are the target audience for these movies? How will we, and they, react?
On one hand, it is possible that revisiting these images time and again serves as a memorial to keep the terrible events of that day forever in our minds, lest we forget; or that being reminded of 9/11 has a cathartic purpose, a kind of exorcism. On the other hand, the true purpose of replaying such images may be to keep us in a perpetual state of fear and anxiety. Yet again, the imagery of emerging from the rubble and ashes of destruction may signify national pride and grit.
What concerns me is that the use of devastation porn precludes any sort of understanding. It appeals to our primitive brain. It may raise in us feelings of sorrow, dread, anger, hatred, or disgust, but it probably won’t cause us to reflect on the events and feelings of that day in any constructive way, helping us to cope or properly contextualize them.
Every year on 9/11 I have my own ritual of memory, the rereading of Chilean author Ariel Dorman’s passionate essay, written just weeks afterward, in which he pleaded for both compassion and understanding – for Americans to see their place in a world riven by disaster, death, and violence – not unique in our suffering, though deserving of the utmost sympathy.
If anything, devastation porn disrespects the memories of those who died, and those who live after them. It is time to say, “Enough.”
That’s it, I thought. It’s nothing new, exactly. We all know that Tokyo was destroyed by the original “Gojira.” Science fiction monsters and space aliens wreaking mayhem and havoc is part of their job description. In the last several three or four decades, movies have attempted to recreate realistic depictions of floods, tsunamis, earthquakes, volcanos, global warming, and nuclear catastrophe, with varying degrees of success.
But with every technological advance and blockbuster release, the realism of, and penchant for, devastation porn increases. Moreover, there is a telltale focus on a certain type of imagery, almost always involving the toppling and collapse of tall buildings. Of the dozens, if not hundreds, of movies that employ such imagery, a few that jump to mind are the Superman reboot of 2006 (“Superman Returns”), “The Dark Knight” of 2008, and this year’s Godzilla.
What we are witnessing, in short, is not just devastation porn. It is 9/11 porn.
Now I am not a psychologist, so I can’t offer a cogent explanation as to why we feel the need to witness, over and over again, the kind of devastation we suffered on 9/11. I’m not even sure if it’s us, or the particular obsession of the Hollywood studios, beset, perhaps, by a kind of angst or guilt-ridden need to demonstrate eternal sympathy, patriotism, or both. A less charitable theory might suggest that they can simply exploit human nature – the difficulty we all have in averting our eyes from catastrophe – to make money hand over fist.
Classic 9/11 porn involves buildings collapsing straight down and being pulverized as they go. In case we don’t get the connection, people emerge from billows of dust and debris covered in gray powder. This happens in “Godzilla.” An interesting, but no less symbolic, variation takes place in 2009’s “Avatar,” when the Navi’s “Home Tree” is reduced to ashes.
Skyscrapers being struck and/or gouged comes across as another 9/11 reference, though sometimes this image calls to mind the 1995 bombing of the Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City, as well. Again, “Godzilla” is replete in shots of torn-up, half-standing buildings. A construction crane causes the graphic destruction of one side of a skyscraper in “The Dark Knight.” And, most disturbingly, the poster art for that movie shows a burning skyscraper with a section outlined in flame, recalling the section of World Trade Center Tower 2 gouged by a plane – except that the outline is in the shape of the Batman symbol.
The question is, what do these constant, graphic, vivid, and unsettlingly realistic depictions of 9/11 destruction say about our collective psyche? What effect will they have on us – especially on the youth who are the target audience for these movies? How will we, and they, react?
On one hand, it is possible that revisiting these images time and again serves as a memorial to keep the terrible events of that day forever in our minds, lest we forget; or that being reminded of 9/11 has a cathartic purpose, a kind of exorcism. On the other hand, the true purpose of replaying such images may be to keep us in a perpetual state of fear and anxiety. Yet again, the imagery of emerging from the rubble and ashes of destruction may signify national pride and grit.
What concerns me is that the use of devastation porn precludes any sort of understanding. It appeals to our primitive brain. It may raise in us feelings of sorrow, dread, anger, hatred, or disgust, but it probably won’t cause us to reflect on the events and feelings of that day in any constructive way, helping us to cope or properly contextualize them.
Every year on 9/11 I have my own ritual of memory, the rereading of Chilean author Ariel Dorman’s passionate essay, written just weeks afterward, in which he pleaded for both compassion and understanding – for Americans to see their place in a world riven by disaster, death, and violence – not unique in our suffering, though deserving of the utmost sympathy.
If anything, devastation porn disrespects the memories of those who died, and those who live after them. It is time to say, “Enough.”