I have a horror of horror movies. At nearly 70, I went to my first last month, the 1922 silent movie Nosferatu. I went because the gifted jazz pianist Peter Dasent had composed and was playing the soundtrack. (I have to say the music was brilliant, and not because he is my brother-in-law.)
I warned him that if it were scary I would have to leave, but I needn’t have worried – it has aged so poorly that the audience tittered at each threatening moment. But then last Friday I went to an opera, Breaking the Waves, that left me transfixed with horror.
Max Schreck in the 1922 horror film Nosferatu.
I’m not sure if I wish I hadn’t gone, the first time I’ve thought that. Superbly semi-staged by Opera Australia, Breaking the Waves is a musical version of the 1990s film by Lars von Trier about the degradation, expulsion from her church and finally rape and murder of a young married woman in Scotland. Every aspect was really powerful, but it was also deeply harrowing.
I’m not criticising those who enjoy horror as entertainment. I’m told it can be a highly sophisticated genre, sometimes with its own moral messaging. But nevertheless it does matter what goes into your mind: images can be hard to forget and can cause trauma, and not only to oneself. This masthead recently reported on a pornography-inspired surge in choking during sex, which can inflict lifelong damage and even death.
Surely there is enough horror in the real world, from Gaza and Ukraine, to homelessness and abuse in Melbourne. I’ve read that horror as entertainment is a luxury for a society in which real horror is relatively submerged.
The Apostle Paul’s advice, then, in his letter to the Christians at Philippi remains as wise and relevant today as ever: “Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable — if anything is excellent or praiseworthy — think about such things.”
Breaking the Waves, a semi-staged opera adapted from a Lars Von Trier film.Credit: Wayne Taylor
The psychological benefits are recognised and profound, but so are the spiritual benefits. “Think” has also been translated “dwell upon” and “meditate”, emphasising that he means attentive reflection.
Paul wants people to focus on things that edify and encourage them. He also knows this will affect their practical lives, for actions flow from thoughts.
I don’t suggest that this is a uniquely Christian insight, for it is acknowledged by classical and modern writers across different cultures. What sets Paul apart is the role of faith or, in a little-used term today, piety.
Paul wants people to be pious and moral for, as has been said, piety is love with its face towards God and morality is love with its face towards humanity.
Barney Zwartz is a Senior Fellow of the Centre for Public Christianity.