Our society is overly saturated with media. Our relationship to the media we intake changes every day, and our brains attempt to respond accordingly. The debate surrounding our responsibility in immortalising events through photography and film (or digital media) is still far from over, and with the infinite possibilities regarding access to explicit content, it is vital and ongoing. This matter isn’t just amplified by the internet alone, but by the steady increase we have seen in violent portrayals both produced and exhibited within everyday entertainment. There is an understandable allure surrounding the spectacle of violence and ‘shock’ factor it alludes to, but how do we know where to draw the line? Can any presentation of violence be deemed ethical?
Similar to the increase of on screen violence, there has been a surge in filmic examples that acknowledge this desensitisation, often turning it on its head to convey a satirical message. Some pieces that come to mind include Dan Gilroy’s Nightcrawler, Eugene Kotlyarenko’s Spree and Man Bites Dog by Belgian filmmakers Rémy Belvaux, André Bonzel, and Benoît Poelvoorde. The protagonists in each piece (portrayed by Jake Gyllenhaal, Joe Keery, and Benoît Poelvoorde, respectively) have a thirst or fascination for the process of recording or inflicting violence, to feed off of displeasure for financial gain or simply just for kicks.
When discussing these matters, it is impossible to turn away from the matter of exploitation at play. In all of these cases, these men are inflicting violence in relation to a future intention: for viewers to consume. Whether that is a cinema audience, on social media, or the morning news, Lou Bloom (Gyllenhaal), Kurt (Keery) and Ben (Poelvoorde) glorify violence by not just recording but relishing in the cruelty appearing before their very eyes, or by their own hands. The tragedy unfolding is merely exploited as ‘valuable content,’ worthy of the views of teens online, the attention of morning show executives and of enough value to be made into a film. If there is a hunger for this footage, a market will thus be created.
Lou is an adequate thief, until he decides to record footage of the most spectacularly tragic accidents that occur in Los Angeles in order to make a profit from the morning news channels. Naturally, the unpredictability and rapidity of the job causes Lou, an already unstable man, further instability — and he develops a keen eye for encouraging violence. With great greed comes great irresponsibility. Ben is somewhat more unhinged than Lou, and amidst his clear sense of pleasure achieved through inflicting violence, he mainly does so to steal from his victims. He is a pro, and clearly partaking in these acts is not enough anymore — he desires documentation of his work, longing for an audience to his performance. Kurt, an unsuccessful influencer, resorts to becoming a serial killer taxi driver service as he believes it is one of his only remaining options to gain viewers online. If they don’t want mindless violence, then what do viewers want? Spree is a fine example of our reliance on screens, with the entirety of the piece shown through various cameras:set up in his car, through live streaming, or via security footage. Our dependence on screen technology, and how naturally our lives are intertwined with onscreen entertainment is a matter best observed explicitly, and arguably one of the most terrifying things about Spree is the idea that young people, seemingly in need of clicks and attention from others online, could resort to inflicting sadistic acts such as these.
The widespread ability to record and exhibit grotesque footage is to grant power to those who possess the camera, their point of view becoming the one that dominates. There is an unspoken rule throughout action films, or pieces more inclined to show violence (besides horror), that the killing of random civilians is more accepted than the characters central to the narrative, that audiences are invited to relate to. As much as there is a widespread understanding of the construction behind what is being seen on screen, it is often difficult to separate this fabricated narrative from the graphic clips we are bombarded with on a daily basis, anytime we look at the 6 o’clock news or our Twitter feeds. It is concerning just how much of this graphic content our brains are able to handle before it becomes normalized. Film holds a mirror up to our desensitisation to observing violence in a passive way, and confronts us with our own sadist desires or urges. Cinema is a near-perfect medium for granting this ability to live another life, yet when the fantasy is too deeply seeped into our own reality, discomfort and distress can arise. This is what separates films such as Nightcrawler from the horror genre as the fictional spectacle of violence in horror keeps the audience at arm’s length, while the soberingly realistic portrayals of violence in these thrillers might leave a bad taste in your mouth, hitting too close to reality.
With these realistic portrayals of recorded violence, morals come into play when analysing these three protagonists, who are all able-bodied white men (is anyone surprised?). A point often raised during debates between moral philosophers is that if violence is being used to eliminate further or worse harm, then it can be deemed moral. This belief excuses superhero characters like Captain America from potentially putting bystanders’ lives at risk, for the greater good of the city. Ben, a charming serial killer with a calm demeanor, presents himself as having limits in terms of what ‘work’ he refuses to carry out — for example, killing children, which he admits to doing a couple of times. As the narrative progresses Ben’s limits become more of a facade as nothing is seemingly off the table. The crew that he has hired to tape his violent acts become more and more involved in his behaviour, transgressing from observing behind the camera to aiding in the torment of others, completely desensitized. Their consistent proximity to him has rendered them oblivious to the weight of their actions.
When all is said and done, these mindless criminals often get their just desserts. After observing these characters and their heinous crimes, audiences are offered double the amount of satisfaction by watching the cycle of violence cease and for balance to be restored. That is, except for in the case of Lou, whose profiting is protected and encouraged by the news station he works for, and we see his team of interns set off into the night to capture new horrifying content. Media that encourages us to reflect on the entertainment industry is truly valuable, and can only bring us closer to addressing the glorification of explicit content. Unfortunately it seems that there will always be new players in this sadistic game, and with that knowledge hopefully comes further encouragement to challenge those with more influence over what the general public are presented with. Contrary to popular belief, what lies beyond the screen can hurt us.
