No Animals were Harmed in the Writing of this Blog

That's your cat now.

I wanted to talk about violence against animals in film.  If you’re a fan of horror films, there’s just no way to avoid violence against animals in the movies you watch.  This is part of a theme in horror movies where the filmmakers are subjecting you to something you don’t want to see.  It’s a warning shot that if the filmmakers would make you watch this, what else will you be dared to sit through in this scary film? 

The American Humane Association (AHA) is an organization, founded in 1877, is committed to ensuring the safety, welfare, and well-being of animals. The AHA’s leadership programs are first to serve in promoting and nurturing the bonds between animals and humans. It was previously called the International Humane Association, before changing its name in 1878. In 1940, it became the sole monitoring body for the humane treatment of animals on the sets of Hollywood films and other broadcast productions. American Humane is best known for its trademarked certification "No Animals Were Harmed,” which appears at the end of film or television credits.

I would be remiss if I didn’t admit that in my research, I, unfortunately, came across articles like this one, which were obviously very troubling.  Now you know about it, too.  I should also mention that it's obvious to me that violence in movies is disproportionately exacted on cats, because of the myth that cats are aloof and don't care about you, makes it easy for many to find humor in said violence.  This makes me very angry, but, like the failings of the AHA,  it's a topic worthy of a whole separate blog, so I'll digress.  

I am an animal lover, and I have been all my life.  There have only been brief periods of my life when I didn’t own something adorable and furry, and in those periods, I usually still had something that receives oxygen in water.  Not as cuddly, but still a living thing I took care of.  At one point, we were the proud parents of three cats, one rabbit and two hermit crabs.  That was a lot of maintenance and I will not do that again, but I wanted to illustrate my love and need to care for a pet.  My favorite veterinarian once said to me (when I brought in my fourth animal for a check-up) that I can’t save them all.  (This statement seems to piss off my husband, which makes me love him more if that’s possible.)

Personally, and I’m sure I’m not alone here, I can’t stand to watch animal violence on screen.  There are several movies that I’ve turned on because of “that one scene.”  (I’m looking right at you, Drag Me to Hell. That wasn’t the only problem I had, but you lost a full letter grade after that kitten incident.)  Even watching the latest Planet of the Apes movies upset me, and I know full well that there are no real apes at all. 

Animal violence in horror films is supposed to be hard to watch.  Many times it serves as a plot device to make the viewer dislike the characters they are supposed to dislike. Since we discussed it in the latest podcast, I’ll use IT as the example.  Henry Bowers almost shoots a cat (and I almost gave it a B- for that stunt). These scenes make it easier, and almost enjoyable for the viewer to watch that awful character’s ultimate gory demise (no, Henry Bowers isn’t dead in the rebooted movie…..not yet).

I couldn't bring myself to add a real still from the movie.  They break my heart.

It’s interesting the way animal violence can affect people more than violence against humans.  For me, it’s probably because animals are always innocent.  Cujo is scary, but it wasn’t Cujo’s fault that he was able to wander alone into a hole filled with rabid bats.  Watch your dog better, Cujo’s Owner.  Now we have to kill him because you let him wander around (ugh, don’t even get me started on dogs off the leash.  You’ll really wish you hadn’t).  It’s also more effective because animals can’t consent to be in your movie.  It’s not like they reviewed their contract and struck things they weren’t comfortable with. They are essentially at the mercy of their handlers and agents. 

You might be wondering why this is on my mind (even if you weren’t, idc, it’s my blog, so here we go). 

A few weeks ago, I had Scout put to sleep.  All five of the people who read this blog probably knew her.  I’ve written about an animal I’ve lost in this blog before, but I really didn’t think I could bear writing about her.  I didn’t want to share this pain with anyone else; it’s mine.  Because she was mine and no one else’s.  I got her in 2003 when I was still new to the city, and when I’d moved into my first real apartment (I’d been living in a hotel room with a friend previously).  I was alone in this apartment a lot, and Scout and I saw lots of movies together.  Because she was mine and I was hers and no one else’s.  And I was never scared, because she was there and she was never scared of anything ever. 

Here are some movies we watched together when it was just us alone in a great big city:

Freddy vs. Jason (We agreed that we needed more Katherine Isabel in our lives)

Ginger Snaps (Because we needed more Katherine Isabel in our lives.  Then we were like, “WHY HAVE WE NEVER SEEN THIS??” and then Scout remembered she had just been born this year, so what’s my problem?)

The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (2003) (Scout always wondered if Jessica Biel would be able to make the transition from twee WB show to A-list actress. I guess she sort of did.) 

Final Destinations 1 &2 (I told her about how I’d been warm for Devon Sawa since Casper.  She wasn’t really into him, but to be fair she really liked Idle Hands and Seth Green is the one who shines in that film)

Bride of Chucky (She never said it, but I could tell she thought the doll giving birth at the end was totally unnecessary)

I was 23, and I remember telling my mom that I was not going to declaw her, because I don’t have anything nice, anyway.  My mom reminded me that she could live until I was 40 years old.  She lived until I was 37.  So close.  And in that time, she burrowed a hole in my box springs, and in the back of my easy chair, and mauled the arms of not one, not two, but three couches. Like, I can see the wood underneath the fabric, and that wood also has scratch marks on it. So violent.  Maybe I shouldn’t have let her watch all those horror movies when she was a baby. 

I wasn’t ready for her to go.  She wasn’t old enough.  We had so many more movies we should have caught up on. 

Those of you who love animals, and always have one in your home, you know that there are some who belong to you more than others.  Scout was mine and only mine.  She belonged to me more than any other animal ever has.  And I belonged to her. 

Anyway, where was I?  Animal violence in movies.  I hate it, but I have to admit it can serve a purpose to advance the story.  Just don’t get greedy, Movies Like Drag Me to Hell.  I’m watching you.