Finding God in: Horror Movies

Before I really break this topic open, I’d like to offer a foreword of sorts. An openhearted Christian could write a piece like this one in relation to just about anything, regardless of how hopeless or depraved it may seem on the surface. God, truly, is in everything. How could he not be? The author of all reality certainly won’t be held at bay by anything subsequent to his own power; this includes every ghoul and ghost in horror movie history, no matter how scary or unsettling they may appear. 

I find it disheartening to see Christians in media coverage casually denouncing horror films. There is a discussion to be had about where we draw the line as Christians, certainly, but considering the sheer popularity of the genre, outlawing the whole lot is bound to throw more than a few people off of what else we may have to say. 

Nobody wants to be told that their favorite scary movie is driving a stake between them and God, regardless of whether or not they’ve already come to believe. We should be sensitive and, again, openhearted to these films and the people that pack the theaters for them. Could there be a deeper issue in some? Absolutely, but I’d wager that it most often lies behind the bloody teeth of whatever monster is snarling on the poster. 

When you really dive into (many of) these films, the aforementioned idea that God is in everything becomes unbelievably apparent, no matter how dark or hopeless they may often seem.

We’ll work backwards, starting with The Conjuring (2013). Broadly, the film was a franchise mega-hit that has since spawned nearly a dozen sequels and spinoffs, as well as unimaginable merchandising profit and billions of dollars at the box office. Not only that, but it still to this day defines director James Wan’s career as an essential experience in his filmography. Technically, it’s just a real marvel. 

But the Christians who happened to catch this one were bound to have noticed a difference in the way that it handles its subject matter; namely, the spiritual possession storyline that so many horror films today continuously try and tackle. This trend’s domination of the genre can be traced back to The Exorcist in 1973; that film creates a perfect dichotomy with The Conjuring.

The Exorcist handles spirituality (specifically Christian faith) with much less reverence than The Conjuring. Nowhere to be found is the deep dive into the process of an exorcism and the eventual triumph of good (God) over evil. Instead, audiences were treated with a shocking, suffocating portrayal of ancient evil that still reigns as one of the most pessimistic and disturbing explorations of spirituality in the genre to this day. As far as The Exorcist goes, the worried Christian may indeed have a fair case against it; despite my love for the genre, I struggle deeply to find anything redemptive in a story that is as seemingly dead-set on hopelessness as that one.

But The Conjuring is a philosophical remix, in that it tackles the exact same issue (a family being tortured by a malevolent spirit; in this case the mother) yet ultimately sees the light in its treatment of the matter. Evil is still quite evil here, and it can get nasty. There’s plenty of scratching, screaming, bile-spitting shenanigans; much like The Exorcist, but without the hapless blasphemy. Yet, if you can navigate through that darkness, the film’s final act is wonderfully redemptive. In the name of God, substantiated by memories of familial love and joy, a demon is cast out of the mother. At times, things certainly seem hopeless, even miserable. The mother is inflicted with intense physical trauma (bruising, sickness), and her eventual full possession results in her attacking her own children. It’s a tough watch, and many Christians may have clicked off upon seeing these kinds of things play out, especially when the demon and the history behind it get involved. 

Here, I’d like to issue a challenge: as Christians, we (should) believe that demons do, in fact, exist. This also means that they can possess, and thereby torture, an individual, just like in the situation that The Conjuring posits. Does the film dramatize things for the sake of being a blockbuster movie? Yes, but it hardly loses the realism in the process. So, what is the point of avoiding a topic like this? Why is it okay to make Christian films about the easy stuff, and not this? 

It seems obvious to me that Christians should engage with this sort of content, as long as one can stomach it; we should measure it up to the biblical standards of the subject, just like we do most everything else. Not every film is going to succeed on our view (The Exorcist), but when a picture pushes all the right buttons, you end up with one of the most thorough explorations of exorcism in the history of horror, as well as an extremely potent story of triumph and the all-encompassing prevalence of goodness: of course, this is The Conjuring.

If all that wasn’t enough, the film is bookended with a quote that reads: “The devil exists. God exists. And for us, as people, our very destiny hinges on which we decide to follow.” What a moving sentiment, and it isn’t just contained to the final frame. The entire film is concerned with hope, determination, and community; all themes that Christian films consistently apply, though most often to less avail than The Conjuring does. The Conjuring may not even be an explicitly Christian film, but if that is our standard, we may as well just watch God’s Not Dead on loop. 

So far, I’ve touched on the battle of good vs. evil multiple times; said discussion is a natural consequence of a film that posits inherently evil entities such as demons. But that narrative is also important to the Christian, it’s a part of our story. Enter what is probably a more controversial case on my part: Halloween (1978.)

Hailed (rightfully, in my opinion) as the most influential horror film ever made by many, Halloween is often painted as a straight-up vision of unredeemable evil; to an extent, this is true. The film’s iconic pale-masked villain, Michael Myers, is just that. He kills, seemingly without reason, at just about every chance he gets. And he doesn’t just kill, he mutilates. Protagonist Dr. Loomis, played by legend Donald Pleasense, refers to Michael as death itself, further noting that Myers has “the blackest eyes… the devil’s eyes.” 

Without question, Michael Myers is an entity devoid of good, and if he’s the only place you look, you may end up lumping Halloween into the same category as The Exorcist; a wretched, free-falling despair-fest. Not to mention the film’s open displays of high-schoolers thoughtlessly indulging in sex, drinking, and other sorts of debauchery. What’s the purpose in sitting through all that, you may ask? Well, regarding Halloween, the question is answered in the form of its extremely special main character: Laurie Strode.

Laurie is unique. Unlike her precarious cast of friends, she isn’t involved in any of the aforementioned activities; she’s innocent to a fault. Innocence is the word, hang on to that. This is illustrated again and again throughout the film, but perhaps the best bit of them all takes place in a car, when Laurie is riding along with her friend Annie. Annie smokes cigarettes (so professionally that her face may as well be on the box) and urges Laurie to join her. Laurie puffs once, coughs her lungs out, and passes the cigarette back to Annie; it’s not her thing. The scene, beyond being memorably amusing and tongue-in-cheek, serves as a compact display of her prime character trait. Laurie is innocent; she’s good. 

Drawing a connecting line between innocence and goodness is, I’d argue, clearly biblical. Philippians 2:14-16 states: “ 14 Do everything without grumbling or arguing, 15 so that you may become blameless and pure, children of God without fault in a warped and crooked generation. Then you will shine among them like stars in the sky 16 as you hold firmly to the word of life.” Laurie, brought to life by a wonderful debut performance from Jamie Lee Curtis, encapsulates this childlike purity perfectly. It separates her from the rest of the cast, not only in character, but in fate. By the time all is said and done, Laurie is the last one standing; the final girl, if you will. 

Throughout the film, her friends are picked off one-by-one, almost always as a result of their own careless actions. In inebriated stupors, they all end up walking right into Michael’s death grip in one way or another. Truly, it is their own evils that ultimately befall them; broken lifestyles cut short by what is essentially evil personified itself; an exaggerated vision, but an honest one all the same. It gets hard to watch, for sure, but so does The Conjuring. Just like that film, though, Halloween differentiates itself in triumph. Laurie (pure good) defeats Michael (pure evil) on the merits of her good alone. She evades, outsmarts, and ultimately completely escapes Michael by the end of the runtime. She survives for all the same reasons that her friends didn’t; that contrast is exceptionally powerful. 

Even if that part convinces you, though, you may be caught off-guard by the back-end of the film’s finale in which Michael, despite his defeat, escapes into the night without a trace. He lives. Bummer, right? Well, yeah, but what else would you expect? Even the most happy-go-lucky Christian will admit that evil doesn’t just die. At least, it won’t as long as humans are running this place. In committing to viewing the film as a conceptual battle of good vs. evil (which is easy enough,) you must also understand that the war can never truly be won without God. Evil in our world always slips away, back into the darkness where it belongs until another victim opens themselves up to it once more. 

We can only do so much about that. But from a Christian perspective, it’s incredibly difficult to watch Halloween and not be touched by what it suggests; good wins, in the end. Despite all the suffering and loss, pain and strife, good wins. That sentiment lies at the core of the Christian heart, and Halloween is one of the most potent portrayals of that truth that cinema has ever seen. It necessitates the exhibited sin within it, honestly tackling a broken world head-on and paving a path of hope and purity ahead for all those willing to take it. Halloween has endured so long for this reason. The message is always relevant, and it will be until the very end of time as we know it. It’s timeless.

As is The Conjuring. These films gear my mind towards God more than just about any Christian film I’ve ever seen. There are exceptions (see Scorsese’s Silence, The Case for Christ, or American Underdog,) but my goal here was to simply argue that God is still in movies that may not explicitly mention Him in the title. It’s a completely fair concept for the Christian to simply not want to stomach the content in these kinds of films; in that case, I get it. But if you can manage it, do yourself the favor and give these two films (at least) a shot. They’re soaring examples of God having worked his way into a genre commonly argued against him. God is in everything, and horror movies are no exception.