Modern Hollywood’s Love Affair With Satanism

by Leo Grin

“It is the eve of St. George’s Day. Do you not know that tonight, when the clock strikes midnight, all the evil things in the world will have full sway?”

Those are words spoken by a superstitious old woman to Jonathan Harker in Bram Stoker’s novel Dracula (1897). Fearing for the outsider’s safety, she gives him a crucifix. “I did not know what to do,” Harker writes, “for, as an English Churchman, I have been taught to regard such things as in some measure idolatrous, and yet it seemed so ungracious to refuse an old lady meaning so well and in such a state of mind.”

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But later, overcome with terror in the bowels of the Count’s Transylvanian castle, he has reason to be most grateful:

Bless that good, good woman who hung the crucifix round my neck! For it is a comfort and a strength to me whenever I touch it. It is odd that a thing which I have been taught to regard with disfavour and as idolatrous should in a time of loneliness and trouble be of help. Is it that there is something in the essence of the thing itself, or that it is a medium, a tangible help, in conveying memories of sympathy and comfort? Some time, if it may be, I must examine this matter and try to make up my mind about it. In the meantime I must find out all I can about Count Dracula. . . .

Over a century later, Stephenie Meyer managed to write four bestselling books concerning vampires (later translated into a quartet of popular movies) without the word crucifix appearing even a single time in her hundreds of thousands of words. The toothsome undead in HBO’s True Blood (based off of Charlaine Harris’ popular, sex-drenched “Southern Vampire” novels) are similarly unconcerned with the possibility of their nocturnal bacchanalia being interrupted by the appearance of a cross. In these movies, it’s not God but other bloodsuckers who provide supernatural support for the good guys.

This godless trend isn’t limited to vampire movies. A few weeks ago I checked out The Last Exorcism at an upscale theater here in LA. Here’s a breakdown of the damage to my bank account:

Parking: $2
Ticket: $12.75 (plus a $1 “convenience charge” if you order it over the Net)
Popcorn: $8
Soda: $5.75

As I took my seat, I looked around and saw that a few dozen others had joined me, shelling out up to $30 each in the midst of the worst economy since the Great Depression, all in the hope that The Last Exorcism would prove an even remotely worthy successor to 1973’s The Exorcist, still widely hailed as one of the best horror movies of all time.

That older film was suffused with the quiet theological majesty and splendor I grew up with while attending Catholic grade school for eight years. It’s a movie that worked because it strove to portray the underlying tenets of the faith — the existence of God chief among them — as every bit as real as the demons tormenting the characters. The main characters were true heroes, powered by their imperfect but heartfelt faith, fighting in the name of God for the side of right.

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As this new picture unwound up on the screen, however, we were treated to something quite different and (when you think about it) quite underhanded, regardless of your faith or lack thereof. The main character was an atheist evangelical preacher, which spiritually speaking makes him the Protestant equivalent of a homosexual priest — a walking contradiction in terms, a leftist charlatan masquerading in true believer’s clothing, a spiritual and moral eunuch. The other denizens in this bizarre portrayal of America’s deep South “fundie-land” were all unhinged weirdos (with the exception of the one character later revealed to be gay, natch).

As demonic horrors wreaked havoc on the protagonists, no countervailing otherworldly power of Good manifested itself. Unlike 1973’s The Exorcist (which, given Hollywood’s current state, may as well have been made a thousand years ago), faith in God was rendered impotent at best and utterly delusional at worst. At the end of The Last Exorcism, as the last scintilla of hope is drowned in scenes of gruesome murder and bleak nihilism (painfully, almost plagiaristically, reminiscent of 1999’s The Blair Witch Project), the audience I was with let out a collective groan, and I heard multiple variations of “Oh, come on!”, “You’ve gotta be kidding me!”, and (my favorite) “Awwwww, man. . . we shoulda seen Takers!”

Mind you, these reactions came not from a church group or an audience of young Republicans, but from the very kind of young, diverse, urban, opening-night audience that Hollywood claims is its key demographic. Even they appeared to sense, and be artistically disappointed by, the essential cheat at work: modern Hollywood wants us to believe that supernatural forces of Darkness are frighteningly real, even while they dismiss all supernatural forces of Light as laughable superstition.

Even more recently, still stinging from The Last Exorcism, I took yet another chance on the vampire genre in the form of Let Me In. The desolate, abused young boy in the film had a fundamentalist mother who — surprise! — was a divorced drunk incapable of keeping track of her youngster’s whereabouts, much less helping him in any way. The absent father, asked over the phone by his crying kid whether true evil really exists, assumes that the superstitious Christian nonsense force-fed by the boy’s mother is responsible for such strange questions.

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But again, we are presented with a situation where the filmmakers want to drink their blood and have it, too. Despite the mother being portrayed as a Bible-thumper, we never see the vampire run into, for instance, any sort of cross hanging on the walls of the boy’s home. The boy seems to have no Biblically inspired moral base or code. God, once again, is conveniently MIA, even as his followers are portrayed in the crudest stereotypes as utter hypocrites powerless against the creatures of the night.

That creature, meanwhile, is lovingly brought to life with state-of-the-art special effects and all of the emotional empathy the director can conjure. We are meant to sympathize with the demonic succubus inhabiting a twelve-year-old girl’s body, even as we are revolted by the pile of mostly innocent victims left in her wake. The film ends with the little boy seduced down a road destined to lead to a life of serial killing on behalf of his new playmate. It’s the gruesome culmination of another lopsided Hollywood fight between good and evil, with evil walking away with another easy win (if the filmmakers had any guts, they would have had that little undead minx move in next to Sandra Bullock’s character from The Blind Side — then we’d see what she was really made of!)

Hollywood is cheating in the horror movie arena just as they do in the political and social arenas. They are, by turns, scaring us and seducing us with deeply anti-Christian mythological monsters, while simultaneously mocking anyone who believes in the corresponding existence and power of supernatural forces for good. It’s yet another attempt to scrub any trace of God from our popular culture, spitting in the faces of the upwards of eighty percent of Americans who identify as Christians, and in the process disappointing the near one-hundred percent of theatergoers who don’t want to drop thirty bucks on a movie where villains and nihilism conquer all.

The sad truth is that a group of Anton LaVey-lovin’ Satanists couldn’t have written horror scripts any more one-sided than the ones currently being green-lighted by modern Hollywood.