The Beast Within

I like horror movies. A lot. More than I probably should to be perfectly honest. People ask me why and I generally don't have a good answer except to say that they really get my attention. I've sat through any number of "good" romance or drama or action movies and not really cared much either way what happened, but I've never had that sensation during a horror movie.

A friend of mine from graduate school had a much smarter response to that question. She said she liked horror because it explores the basic primal fears that we all have locked away inside. I think there's something to that and something about the darker side of the imagination that is worth examining. After all, I don't like just any horror movie that makes use of buckets of fake blood and chain-saw wielding maniacs inexplicably killing people. If you're going to scare me, be smart about it. The best horror movie I've ever seen is the 1963 The Haunting, in which you never see a single ghost (it's rated G). Asian horror films typically get it right too; these movies, like Korea's A Tale of Two Sisters, typically focus on family relationships more than psychotic, blood-thirsty monsters. They examine that line between love and hate, jealousy and rage. The horror is in the power of our emotions and what we are capable of.

So it should come as no surprise when you learn that Craig and I chose The Wolfman over such romances as Valentine's Day, When in Rome, or Dear John as our Valentine's date. A remake of the 1941 film (the foundation for all future werewolf movies), it maintained that epic sensibility so many older movies have and, like all werewolf movies, it dares you to think about your own "beastly" qualities locked away inside of you. As the movie states at the very beginning, even those who say their nightly prayers are susceptible to the rage inside. A distinctly Christian ideology, I think, that we are all sinners at heart.

Regardless, it was great film. And I'd determined to snuggle into my seat and thoroughly enjoy the luxury of watching a horror movie in a movie theater on a date with my husband before our little Salmon Egg makes her debut into the wider world and puts a serious crimp in my horror movie viewing. Unfortunately, no one had told me I've already crossed the point of no return.

I had thought I'd be able to sit back and unabashedly enjoy watching Benicio Del Toro morph from man to wolf, but I was wrong. There was a glimmer of guilt even though our egg has not yet hatched. Why? Because I made the mistake of reading shortly beforehand that our baby can now hear environmental sounds and that loud or sudden noises will "startle" her. This movie has quite a few loud and sudden noises and our theater had the volume cranked up. And let me tell you: our little one was most assuredly "startled." Watching Del Toro's inner beast physically push and break its way out, I felt I had my own beast pushing and clawing inside of me. A unique experience, to say the least.