Our friend Sam Karnick, of The American Culture (where I blog sometimes, though I’ve been sadly neglecting them) has an article over at PJ Media on violence and sex in the movies. He argues that violent movies are a lot less harmful, and sex in movies a lot more harmful, than it’s fashionable to say.
It seems to me, however, that those who maintain that sex and profanity in the culture should be treated more leniently than violence actually have it exactly wrong: earlier social values, which were lenient toward depictions of violence but were fairly strict about depictions of sex and the use of profanity, had it right, and the modern, more “enlightened” approach is in fact blinkered and wrong. The reason lies precisely in this matter of consequences. When sexual license is depicted without the consequences — broken homes, never-formed families, betrayed loved ones, suicides, disfiguring and deadly venereal diseases, agonizing confusion about one’s sexual role, etc. — all the audience is left with is the lure of erotic pleasure. Bad consequences are either ignored or are seen much later than the choices that led to them, thus greatly weakening any connection the audience may have between the action and any deleterious effects.
I agree entirely. I’ve also argued, in this space, that the big difference between violent movies and sexual movies is not a difference of morals but of appropriateness. Violence is essentially public, while sex is essentially private.
Another point, it seems to me, is that movies have always been about sex as much as about violence. They just weren’t explicit, in either case. Every romantic movie had one object in mind, but we discreetly averted our gazes before that object was consummated. When people were shot, we saw the gun smoke and the bad guy falling down, but we did not observe the bullet hole or the spouting blood.
Nowadays both those taboos are frequently broken.
That’s excellent.
Violence is essentially public, while sex is essentially private.
That’s a really interesting point. The Aristotelian approach has a lot to say about the essential natures of things. The difference between essence and existence is the difference between “what is it?” and “is it?” But that ultimately makes essence more important, because essence implies existence to some degree: if we can speak of what it is, then to some degree it must be.
So when you say that violence is essentially public, what do you mean by that? In the sagas, if I hide the body, the act is moved from a licit act of violence into an illicit act of murder. Because I’ve violated the essence of a violent act? It’s got to be something like that, right? Our Viking ancestors (of whom I seem to have some, though Danes and not Norsemen) believed that it was a statement you were supposed to make in public, if you really believed it.
What follows from that, do you think?
I actually hadn’t worked it out that far. I just meant that people are generally not very ashamed to fight in public–in fact, the presence of onlookers often eggs the combatants on. But most people prefer not to be watched while they’re having sex.
I don’t think I can wade into the Aristotelian argument yet, but I agree with Lars that sex is personal, private, and intimate, and violence is public and more social. The consequences of violent acts are much more visible than sexual ones, because emotions, affections, and STDs are as easily dramatized. Plus the depiction of violence does not lead to hatred or real violence like the depiction of sex leads to lust and real perversion.
I also like the consequences approach. Generally speaking, the most violent movies are not the ones that have the most people dying, but the ones that have the most painful depictions of the consequences of violence. Whereas few (if any) movies these days are willing to be as frank about the negative consequences of sexual misconduct as was the classic film Dead End (starring Humphrey Bogart).
In essence, the horrific ultimate consequences of violence are seen as violent, whereas neither the good consequences (children, long-term relationships) nor the bad consequences (heartbreak, abortion, relationship dysfunction) of sex are seen as sexy. (Or at least this is true of our culture. I think even as Americanized an art form as Bollywood movies indicates that other cultures are far more likely to link attraction and reproduction.) So in addition to being pornographic, portraits of sex in modern entertainments are almost unanimously dishonest.
Well, I think you’re right, but the essential nature of the thing still interests me. Human violence, at least, does seem to have an essentially public character: if someone secretly kills (or badly assaults or rapes) another, we invest some energy in pulling the matter out into public; and then, unless the killing or assault was demonstrably in self defense, we engage in another public act of violence (imprisonment or execution) to settle the matter in everyone’s view.
But sex? We’re glad to leave that out of sight, most of the time; and even though people seem to find celebrities who don’t do so to be entertaining, they aren’t much respected.
I’d say sex is essentially an internal, personal thing, though very public consequences are possible, meaning children. But violence leaves a visible mark on other people, especially if someone ends up dead.
I assume the Vikings would look at any action in terms of honor. If a man despoiled a woman, was it generally acceptable for her family to kill the man in response? If her family could not avenge her, would the community look less favorably on man’s family?
Yes, precisely. Failure to avenge would mean the forfeit of community standing.
Well, honor even more than violence is essentially public: honor and shame don’t apply to events that are truly private. So, if sex becomes public, it becomes a matter of honor; but if it can be kept private, or can be put back in private, it does not.
We see this most clearly in the Arthurian tales: when Guinevere is kidnapped by Meleagant and Lancelot comes to her in her captivity, Meleagant the next day discovers the blood from Lancelot’s wounds in her bed. He accuses Guinevere of adultery — although he thinks she slept with one of the wounded knights he captured at the same time as her, and is unaware of Lancelot’s presence.
Lancelot shows up to defend her against the accusation and defeats Meleagant (sometimes kills him, depending on the version of the story). The defeat in the trial by combat means that the queen is free of the charge of adultery; and the fact of the blood in her bed simply vanishes as a matter of interest in the minds of the honor culture. What does it mean that there was blood in her bed? Nothing: the matter was tested, and settled, via a very public act of violence.