Fear Not!

Josh Larsen’s slim monograph, Fear Not!: A Christian Appreciation of Horror Movies, serves as another entry into the growing list of books that explore the connections between horror and religion. As Larsen points out, horror movies are not dissimilar from the Bible in that both “express our fears and answer them” (7). For Larsen, the primary question is how we get from the unpleasantness that horror so often fixates on, and to the transcendence and grace promised by the Christian faith. After an introduction, laced with autobiographical accounts of Larsen’s early encounters with horror, the book is divided into eleven chapters that each consider a specific subgenre of horror, attached to a particular fear. Monster movies, for example, are connected with “Fear of our own capacity for sin,” while Slashers are explored through the lens of “fear of being alone.” Each chapter introduces a handful of representative movies, and briefly discusses how they embody this particular fear. Then, Larsen moves to how the Bible responds to this fear, most often from one of the Gospels or a psalm.

Larsen is primarily a film critic, not a scholar, and the book is intended to be a popular-level introduction for the general reader and horror film enthusiast. Still, the series of which it’s a part, Reel Spirituality, bills itself as offering books for general audiences which are “introductions to key concepts in and practical applications of the Theology and Film discipline.” As such, it seems reasonable to expect that the volume would be informed by contemporary scholarship, while not including a thorough literature review. However, Fear Not! shows little awareness of current scholarship in horror and religion, so is only able to offer readings of films that have been made elsewhere, usually with more nuance and depth.

The first chapter, entitled “Monster Movies,” serves as a good example of how the book is structured. The chapter’s subtitle tells us the theological issue that will be at stake: “Fear of our own capacity for sin.” The chapter begins with a scene from the 1941 film The Wolf Man, in which the titular character enters a cathedral, before fleeing after the townspeople turn to look at him. After this, Larsen introduces the well-known Pauline quote from Romans 7:15, “I do not understand what I do,” as an entry into a discussion of the monster films of the 1930s-50s. The 1931 version of Dracula gets a few pages worth of discussion, focusing on how Dracula reminds us of the reality that “those in positions of power can be tempted to leverage it for sexual gain” (14). Brief descriptions of the overreaching sins of the madmen “grasping for power” (14) in The Mummy (1932) and The Invisible Man (1933) lead into a somewhat lengthier discussion of The Creature from the Black Lagoon (1954), centering on the humanity of the monster. Brief references to some of the other films lead back to a further discussion of Romans, and how difficult it is for us to do the good that we wish to do.

Larsen’s book differentiates itself from other books that explore connections between horror and religion by being explicitly Christian in its orientation. Rather than exploring how horror addresses religious questions (or, properly human questions, as Douglas Cowan reframes them), Larsen asks how horror films can help support a Christian life of faith. It frequently leads him to gloss over fairly quickly how the film under discussion addresses a particular fear, so that the chapter can move into how we can be “open to the comfort offered by the gospel” (7). The text quickly becomes less about critically analyzing a group of films in conversation with the Christian tradition than it is about how these films can serve as a means of spiritual reflection for the viewer.

The book is barely 100 pages. It tries to cover eleven subgenres of horror films in this space, meaning that it doesn’t give much attention to any single one. Each chapter consists of a brief overview of some of the generic conventions of a subgenre, followed by discussions of four or five key films in the subgenre. Each individual film usually receives a one- or two-paragraph plot summary, followed by another paragraph that nods towards how this film connects with the chosen theme of the subgenre, using either a biblical passage or theological idea. There’s simply not enough space devoted to any of these discussions to produce connections that are more than surface level.

But Larsen’s deep love of horror is evident throughout, as demonstrated in the way his film selections are drawn from both genre staples as well as lesser known gems that are worthy of further discussion. For example, the chapter on Psychological Horror talks about Stanley Kubrick’s classic adaptation of Stephen King’s The Shining, but also discusses more recent films such as The Babadook and The Lighthouse, and then detours through the underappreciated film Relic. These quick journeys through horror history can provide some fun recollections about films readers have seen and loved, as well as some nice suggestions for future watching.

However, this example also demonstrates how quickly the book moves through its discussions; the above-mentioned films are all included in a seven-page chapter that also touches on clinical definitions of anxiety and Frederick Buechner. The discussions are largely surface-level connections between films and biblical passages, without much attention to the kind of detailed close reading that a book of this nature should be providing. The familiarity with prior scholarship on horror and religion is similarly lacking. Carol Clover gets a brief mention in the text for her concept of the “Final Girl” (38, though her work is absent from the bibliography), but the vast majority of work that has informed horror scholarship over the last three decades, including authors such as Robin Wood, Noël Carroll, Julia Kristeva, and Barbara Creed, are missing from the discussion.

This volume also omits the foundational work of Timothy Beal and Amy Kalmanofsky, along with the work of many other biblical scholars and theologians who have explored these subjects. Fear Not! is obviously intended for a general readership rather than an academic audience, so one shouldn’t expect to have the depth of scholarly dissertation one would find in an academic monograph. But the purpose of an introductory book for a general audience should be to synthesize scholarly ideas and communicate them in a way that’s helpful and easily understandable for non-specialists—not to ignore the academic work that covers the topic.

While it’s easy to admire Larsen’s passion for both horror and his faith, I can’t recommend this book for either students or general readers. The topic has been done much more thoroughly – for both academic and non-academic audiences—in an ever-growing number of books in recent years. It’s cursory readings and lack of acknowledgement of previous scholarship means that it doesn’t serve as either an introduction to the field or a resource for future studies. As such, students and others who might be interested in this topic are advised to look elsewhere.

Brandon R. Grafius is an associate professor of Biblical studies at Ecumenical Theological Seminary, Detroit, Michigan.

Brandon R. Grafius

Date Of Review:

March 27, 2024