Editorials
Dybbukim, the Jewish Spirit, and the Rediscovery of Jewish Horror
I love horror, obviously, and I love Jewish culture. While crossovers may not seem common, there’s quite a bit of superstition and creepiness in Jewish culture. Perhaps the most easily explained facet is the presence of sheydim, or demons. The books of the Kabbalah and the Gemara in particular discuss demons in detail. It is said that there are a thousand demons to one’s left side and ten thousand to one’s right. While belief in sheydim isn’t very prevalent in Jewish life today, there is plenty of historical basis for it. The best-known type of sheyd is a dybbuk, or the malevolent spirit of one who died before their time and can possess a living person in an effort to complete their duties. There are several adaptations of the dybbuk myth, such as the 2012 movie The Possession and the 1914 play The Dybbuk: Between Two Worlds, written by S. Ansky. The Possession is an okay movie, but Ansky’s play is a masterpiece. A film version of it was released in 1937.
I never thought I’d get to see the full original film adaptation of The Dybbuk. It was kept for very limited showings by the National Center for Jewish Film for well over 30 years (there’s a 1989 article from the New York Times about a special, rare screening) until Kino Lorber got the rights and released it on Blu-ray a couple years ago. I saw a brief clip of the film on YouTube when I was in college, during a class in which we studied the play and the professor even said, “You’ll never see the whole thing,” and although there is a “full” video on the same site from 2019, it is actually missing several minutes and is in such poor quality that you can hardly make out the faces. When I discovered the Kino Lorber release, I plotzed and bought it right away. It was such a wonderful experience to finally see The Dybbuk.
The Dybbuk, as both a play and a movie, is highly regarded. Many sources cite both as the pinnacle of their Yiddish forms. Interestingly, though the plot centers on a demonic possession and exorcism, it’s not widely considered a piece of horror media. When I was writing my senior thesis on religion in horror literature, I reached out to a few professors for their takes on the play and its inherent spooky nature. However, none of them considered it a horror text. They saw it primarily as a tragedy and a piece of history. Why can’t it live in both spaces, between the two worlds of academia and horror?
Let’s talk about the film. It is clearly steeped in Yiddishkeit, or Jewish culture. It was written and performed in Yiddish and it was filmed in Polish shtetls. The subject matter itself, of a young bride being in love with the dybbuk who possesses her on the day of her wedding, is creepy, but the historical context is downright haunting. Just two years after the film’s release, Hitler’s troops invaded Poland on September 1, 1939. The locations we see in the film, the culture presented, and most of the performers were wiped out during the Holocaust. Yiddish films of the 1930s are some of the only first-hand evidence we have of a lost world.
We could linger on the horrors of the Holocaust, but let’s move on to the fictionalized horrors of The Dybbuk. There is an omniscient character, known only as the Messenger, who disappears and reappears through clever film overlays. There are plenty of superstitions, such as inviting the bride Leah’s deceased mother to the wedding to avoid disrespecting her memory. There is a scene of summoning Satan and there is talk of casting sacrilegious spells. Most terrifying of all is the Dance of the Dead scene. Although it only lasts a couple minutes, it is genuinely unnerving.
Of course, dancing must be accompanied by music, which is also a cultural touchstone of Yiddishkeit. We Jews sing our prayers and psalms, we have a long tradition of our own genre called klezmer, and our influence extends into modern music and theater. A good number of standards in the American songbook were actually written by Jews, like “White Christmas” by Irving Berlin and the musical West Side Story, composed by Leonard Bernstein with lyrics by Stephen Sondheim. The Dybbuk uses music to its advantage not just during the Dance of the Dead but throughout the film. An arrangement of the psalm “The Song of Songs” is particularly important, as it reveals that Khonen, the poor scholar who dies after engaging with occult activities, was supposed to marry Leah because their fathers made a pact.
Respecting promises and keeping one’s word are valued traits in Judaism. The unintentionally broken promise in The Dybbuk sets off the whole chain of unfortunate events. Not only is the ill-fated couple affected by the unfulfilled agreement, but the whole community suffers. Guilt, terror, and death loom over the shtetl. It is not an insular problem, but rather permeates even the lives of those outside the community, including the tzaddik of Miropol, played by Abram Morewski, who conducts the trial and exorcism.
Although The Dybbuk isn’t often seen as a piece of horror media, I would go so far as to consider it a brilliant work of the genre. Ansky wrote a play that expertly weaves a tale of humanity, demons, and conflict between the two with an unashamedly Jewish spirit. Since Judaism is so underrepresented in horror, despite many superstitions and writings that are fertile for scary stories, I am grateful for this relic. You can read the play in various translations in print, book the movie through Kino Lorber for a non-commercial exhibition, or buy it on Blu-ray in a set with nine other classic Yiddish films from the same retailer. Don’t let this work fall deeper into obscurity.
Editorials
Choosing Shock Value Over Writers Is Very Telling
There is a huge difference between a movie being remembered for being good and a movie being remembered because it’s controversial. As a writer, I can forgive an okay film with an amazing script. However, I find it frustrating when it feels like no one believed in the project, so just leaned into the controversy. Stunts were pulled, shock value was sought after, and I am now wondering when the creatives stopped believing in their project.
Animal Cruelty as Shock Value in Horror Cinema
Cannibal Holocaust, a pivotal step toward found footage horror films as we know them today, is remembered for all of the scenes of sexual assault and the murder of actual animals. This takes away from its historical significance because the first thing I remember about it is watching a turtle get murdered and ripped apart. I have a similar issue with Wake in Fright. It’s hard to remember Donald Pleasence, Gary Bond, or the queer implications of this thriller because the filmmaker had kangaroos executed for this film. The scene feels like it goes on forever, and I’m yet to understand why murdering animals needed to be part of the process.
I finally watched Megan is Missing a couple of years ago, and the exploitative nature of the assault of a fourteen-year-old is what stays with me. Whatever Michael Goi’s intentions were, they were lost because the shock factor of that moment outweighs everything else.
When Shock Value Replaces Meaningful Horror
It feels gross and like yet another male filmmaker mishandling assault on camera. Meanwhile, the film was serving its purpose and had other truly disturbing imagery that would have gotten a reaction out of audiences. It also would have allowed for more discussion about the film as a whole, instead of that scene that becomes the conversation. It’s another instance of male filmmakers mishandling the weight of sexual assault on film.
Things Aren’t Getting Better
However, the movies mentioned above are from different eras. We’d like to think filmmakers by now understand that shock factor doesn’t equal a quality movie. We would be wrong to assume that, though, because Dashcam (2021) didn’t stop at basing a character on an awful person. They actually cast the Trump-loving, anti-vax, and very vocal bigot Annie Hardy to play the character. This led to horror fans familiar with her brand of ignorance being turned off before the movie was even released. It also undid a lot of the goodwill that director Rob Savage earned with his previous movie, Host. To make matters worse, Savage repeatedly defended the choice all over the internet. At one point, he tried to blame her behavior on mental health, and people pointed out that doesn’t excuse racism, antisemitism, and homophobia.
Some of Annie’s Infamous Tweets
This is an especially head-scratching situation in this case. The team was riding the steam of a very popular found footage film. They were also primed to make a video game called Ghosts that had a successful crowdfunding campaign. People would have shown up for this before casting for shock value became the priority. We have had multiple films similar to this that sidestepped using known monsters. What was the reason? The idea came about because of her show, but any actress could’ve pulled that off. It was irresponsible to attempt to give this woman an even bigger platform . It was also the ultimate sign that no one was serious about this project.
Have We Tried Trying?
While making chaotic choices is one way to be memorable, is it worth it? In theory, someone(s) spent a lot of time and energy writing these stories. Wouldn’t actual storytellers prefer people to compliment their work instead? Celebrating their imagination, uniqueness, and skill instead of yelling about controversy and shock value. This isn’t a censorship thing. I’m used to being unimpressed with movies and asking, “What was the reason?” As a writer, I also know that there are ways to elicit responses from people without traumatizing them. We are literally tasked with putting characters and situations on the page that make people think and feel. Which is why going through the process of getting an idea greenlit and then leaning into something ghoulish like animal cruelty is baffling. Instead of casting a known Twitter bigot, you could just write a character based on assholes of that ilk.
Whenever I see films coming out that seem more interested in courting controversy than trying to find their audiences, I pause. I cannot help but wonder who really decided this. Clearly, someone didn’t believe in the script and felt that upsetting people for the wrong reasons was the move. That outdated idea that any press is good press snuffed out whatever spark initially got people on board for the film. It is sad that someone(s) didn’t believe in the power of the written word. They doubted the effectiveness of storytelling and decided to go big in the wrong ways. Instead of stepping it up in the script department and figuring out if the proposed stunt is a band-aid for something missing on the page, they decided to go nuclear. They shocked us in the worst of ways, and now we are stuck on impact rather than intention.
How Did We Get Here?
I’m not trying to sound like a boomer, but the rise of social media has made this worse over the years. Studios seemingly want controversial content rather than actual art. The pursuit of going viral has replaced the idea of trying to actually do or say something. It’s all about adding AI to movies to spark outrage and make it trend. The worst people you know are getting cast in movies, so they can cry witch hunt when accountability enters the chat. Shocking the people for the wrong reasons seems to sadly be at main goal too often.
How did we get here? I’m seriously asking. I mean, we know capitalism and people who don’t value art buying studios are a huge part of it. However, I feel like there is a missing piece of this puzzle. Maybe it’s just collective brain rot, and I want it to be more than that because I know the power of a good script. Hell, I know the power of a mid script in the hands of the right person. I want to believe in writers even if their vision is in the shadows of a circus.
Is The Shock Value Worth It?
What do I know, though? I’m just a girl, sitting in front of a computer, asking the industry to believe in writers again. Back scripts that actually say something instead of figuring out how get them canceled. Make movies that spark conversation for legitimate reasons instead of incredibly head-scratching decisions that pull focus. Some of us deserve smart movies that challenge us for the right reasons. That’s why we flock to the original ideas, live for international films, and look to indie filmmakers. We crave disrupters who manage to break the cycle of crap we constantly get spoon-fed.
That’s what inspires me to keep beating my head against the wall. It’s what gives me hope that I’ll get to make things one day. Maybe I’m naive, but I want to at least try because I love writing. I don’t want to just cast a real bigot and call it a day. Not when I can write characters based on bigots and hopefully prompt actual conversation. I want my people discussing my dialogue and metaphors, instead of animal cruelty that makes people sick. In a perfect world the system would allow more room for that. We deserve scripts that can stand on their own without shock value leading TikTok to talk.
Editorials
Tim Burton, Representation, and the Problem With Nostalgia
Tim Burton was not always my nemesis. In the not-too-distant past, I was a child who just wanted to watch creepy things. I rewatched Beetlejuice countless times and thought he was a lot more involved in Henry Selick’s The Nightmare Before Christmas than he actually was. I was also a huge Batman fan before Ben Affleck happened to the Caped Crusader. To this day, I still argue that Michael Keaton’s Bruce Wayne was one of the best. So when I tell you I logged many hours rewatching Burton’s better films in my youth, I am not lying.
However, as I got older, I started to realize that this director’s films are usually exclusively filled with white actors. Even his animated work somehow ignores POC actors, seemingly by design. This is sadly common in the industry, as intersectionality seems to be a concept most older filmmakers cannot wrap their heads around. So, I was one of the people who chalked it up to a glaring oversight and not much more. I also outgrew Burton’s aesthetic and attempts at humor when I started seeking out horror movies that might actually be scary.
I Was Over Tim Burton Before It Was Cool
So, how did we get to episodes of the podcast I co-host, roasting Tim Burton? I kind of forgot about the man behind all of those movies I thought were epic when I was a kid. In huge part because his muse was Johnny Depp, whom I also outgrew forever ago. I wasn’t thinking about Burton or his filmography, and I doubt he noticed a kid in the Midwest stopped renting his movies. I didn’t think about Burton again until 2016 rolled around.
In an interview with Bustle for Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children, the lack of diversity in Burton’s work came up. That’s when the filmmaker explained this wasn’t a simple blunder or oversight on his part. He also unsurprisingly said the wrong thing instead of pretending he’d like to do better in the future.
Tim Burton said, “Things either call for things, or they don’t. I remember back when I was a child watching The Brady Bunch, and they started to get all politically correct. Like, OK, let’s have an Asian child and a black. I used to get more offended by that than just… I grew up watching blaxploitation movies, right? And I said, that’s great. I didn’t go like, OK, there should be more white people in these movies.” – Bustle
Tim Burton Is Not the Only One Failing
We watch older white guys fumble in interviews when topics like gender parity, diversity, politics, etc., come up all the time. It’s to the point now where most of us are forced to wonder if their publicists have simply given up and just live in a state of constant damage control. However, Tim Burton’s response was surprisingly offensive in so many ways. The more I reread it, the more pissed off at this guy I forgot existed after we returned our copy of Mars Attacks! to the Hollywood Video closest to my childhood home. While I knew I wouldn’t be revisiting Edward Scissorhands and Beetlejuice, his explanation for the almost complete absence of POC in his work burst a bubble.
We Hate To See It
Tim Burton’s own words made me realize so many obvious issues that I excused as a kid. Like Billy Dee Williams as Harvey Dent in Batman, it was the only time I remembered a Black actor with substantial screentime in a Burton film. Or that The Nightmare Before Christmas was really named the late Ken Page’s character, Oogie Boogie. As a Black kid, what a confusingly racist image with a helluva song. So, Burton saying the quiet part out loud is what led me to reexamine the actual reasons I probably stopped watching his work. His problematic answer is also why I don’t have the nostalgia that made most of my friends sit through Beetlejuice Beetlejuice.
I love the cast for this sequel we didn’t need. I am also delighted to see Jenna Ortega continue working in my favorite genre. However, from what I heard from most of my friends who watched the movie, I’m not the only person who has outgrown Tim Burton’s messy aesthetic and outdated stabs at jokes. I am also not the only one paying attention to what’s being said about the Black characters on Wednesday. Again, I’m always happy to see Ortega booked and busy. However, I also refuse to pretend Burton has fixed his diversity problem. If anything, this moves us deeper into specific bias territory.
Tim Burton’s Bare Minimum Is Not Good Enough
He will now cast a couple of Brown people, but is still displaying colorism and anti-Blackness. His “things” seemingly “call for things” that are not Black folks in key roles that aren’t bullies. He still feels that’s his aesthetic. If we are still dragging him into the last millennium, will he ever work on a project that truly understands and celebrates intersectionality? Or will he continue doing the bare minimum while waiting for a cookie? I don’t know, and to be honest, I don’t care anymore. I’m not the audience for Tim Burton. You can say my “things” no longer “call for things” he’s known for. In part because I’m over supporting filmmakers who don’t get it and don’t want to get it.
If a director wants to stay in a rut and keep regurgitating the mediocre things that worked for him before I was born, that’s his business. I’m more interested in what better filmmakers who can envision worlds filled with POC characters. Writer-directors that understand intersectionality benefits their stories are the people I’m trying to engage with. So, while Tim Burton might have had a few movies on repeat during my VHS era, I have as hard of a time watching his work as he has imagining people who look like me in his stuff. I will never unsee “let’s have an Asian child and a black” in his offensive word salad. However, I don’t think he wants me in the audience anyways because he might then have to imagine a world that calls for people who look like me.


