Are we not entertained?
Stop me if you’ve seen this one before. A big old house, Victorian, ideally, with too many rooms on too many floors, and loads of dark wood paneling. Faint eerie sounds and brief glimpses of vague unsettling shapes. Lights and electrical devices that flash or fail at the most inconvenient times. Objects that move or morph without visible causality. Poorly lit spaces that suddenly and randomly require dozens of lit candles. Artifacts or personal items that go missing only to reappear later in other spaces inexplicably. A priest, psychic, or some other spiritual medium as witness and guide. A jump scare every 20 minutes or so.
These are just some elements of the often formulaic production of a typical horror movie these days, filled with pastiche and tropes. Taken together, they can be entertaining in the same way a haunted house at a local carnival can. But some will likely confuse their entertainment with reality and mistakenly believe or imagine that what they see on their screen accurately portrays real experiences with the liminal, uncanny, or anomalous.
Now, granted, what people consume as entertainment should never be confused for reality, even when ambiguous claims are sometimes made stating a work is based on “actual” or “true events.” Horror films are not documentaries, and they don’t purport to be, although some documentaries can be horrific and terrifying. Yet, I’ve always felt that confusing or conflating such things with someone’s actual lived experience doesn’t do anyone any good. If anything, it harms.
And that leaves me with a sense of grief mixed with frustration.
There’s a kind of desecration at work when the entertainment industry, or any industry, actively works to exploit the experiences of others’ inner lives where phenomenological encounters are reduced to quick audience shrieks, graphic spectacle, and the all-too-consumable “creepy” aesthetics in the way that something sacred and profound is cheapened when it becomes a commodified product. Pimping spirituality should feel icky because it is not a victimless crime. The harm is that those who have experienced the uncanny and anomalous become invisible—even irrelevant. And the lifeless derivative shell becomes accepted knowledge and mindset for the masses to devour and inhabit. A poor artifice of lived inner experience. An illusion of truth.
The non-material deserves just as much serious attention as the material. Subjective experience deserves rigorous, multidimensional engagement rather than the petty scoff that accompanies easy dismissal. Modern society’s reflex to pathologize, religionize, trivialize, or force such experiences into reductive binaries such as “either it’s scientifically validated, or it’s nonsense” is a failure of the imagination and a failure of a basic understanding of the human condition. It forecloses the possibility that reality might be stranger, more complex, layered, and nuanced than what consensus allows. The result is isolation for people with unusual experiences.
But I’m not someone who demands everyone share my ontology, cosmology, and point of view. My objections against the entertainment industry and pop culture regarding the uncanny aren’t that either one gets the metaphysics wrong. Rather, it’s that these are the dominant modes of representation, whether it’s horror, parody, New Age commodification, mega church evangelism, clinical reductivism, etc. They all share a refusal to simply sit with and listen to anomalous experiences on their own terms without defensiveness, diagnoses, or dismissiveness. By avoiding, deflecting, or outright denying the unusual experiences of others, we cater to the popular consumption of ideas that misrepresent what may be a key, critical facet of our reality and existence. Such reframes do a disservice to individual experiences and humanity as a whole.
We need, then, some kind of middle ground between these competing extremes, especially in this age of willful ignorance and systemic mass media manipulation and deception. I’m not suggesting compromise. I’m suggesting active listening and openness to what we may not agree with or can't easily categorize, without rushing to judgment, reflexive explanation, or mining for entertainment fodder.
There’s no way pop culture will do this kind of work. It has evolved for a different purpose entirely and cannot be commandeered to do otherwise. But for those of us who have slipped into, or even past, liminality and remember what we’ve seen, heard, touched, and felt, we can at least refuse to participate in the further flattening of our reality. We can unapologetically hold our truth in the face of those who would rob us of our dignity. And we do that by keeping our hands, minds, and hearts open.
So by all means, let’s enjoy the next horror flick. But when we do, maybe ask ourselves if our own lived experience might have just become someone else’s entertainment.