Embracing the Darkness

 Those who say that children must not be frightened may mean . . . that we must try to keep out of his mind the knowledge that he is born into a world of death, violence, wounds, adventure, heroism and cowardice, good and evil. . . . There is something ludicrous in the idea of so educating a generation which is born to the OGPU and the atomic bomb. Since it is so likely that they will meet cruel enemies, let them at least have heard of brave knights and heroic courage. - C.S. Lewis

To their credit, the creators of children's films and cartoons don't seem at all afraid to show darkness. Did you know that main characters are twice as likely to die in animated films as they are in adult live-action films? It's true. Kids follow their heroes through some pretty deep valleys.

I tend to take a don't-worry-about-it approach to darkness myself, which makes me the only one in my family. I guess because almost nothing onscreen even begins to scare me (though I've never attempted to watch a horror film), it usually doesn't occur to me that there's a reason to find it dark. The only thing on TV that's ever really scared me is that one episode of Family Matters where Steve's dummy comes to life. I find dummies creepy to this day, and I blame Stevil.

What's funny is, some things actually seem darker as I get older. Disney villain deaths are remarkably gruesome. That Teen Titans cartoon series from a few years back has some pretty dark episodes. The "mutant" toys from Toy Story are pretty creepy. Yet, not one of these things bothered me the first time I watched them. I was aware that they were scary or tragic in the context of the story, but none of them disturbed me. Now, for some reason, I'm afraid they might be too dark for other kids who are about the same age I was when I first saw them. I think a lot of things are darker for adults because they can understand them on a deeper level. It's like one's comprehension of gloom is inversely proportional to their innocence. Or it could just be that I have an underdeveloped emotional reaction to things. But that's part of why I tend to think kids can bear a lot worse than some people think. That and the fact that my youngest sister seems to be bothered exclusively by the sight of real people physically abusing each other.

Later in his essay, Lewis states that the child actually "wants to be a little frightened." While the kid writing this doesn't particularly want to be frightened, I will admit that I kind of do want to be sad. Not in real life of course, but I want to be sad with the characters. I want to mourn with them. I strangely enjoy the darkness in movies. Those moments of hopelessness really captivate me. Remember how I complained about the hopelessness in Small Hands at the beginning of the semester? To be honest, I watched it over and over again 'cause . . . I don't know why. I just liked it. I may not like leaving the character in the valley, but it somehow feels good to enter it with them. It's not because I relate; I've never suffered to any significant degree. Is it that I like watching the light eventually shine again? in which case my experience would further resemble what Lewis says; "Since it is so likely that they will meet cruel enemies, let them at least have heard of brave knights and heroic courage."

So yeah. I support darkness. In moderation. Every good story needs some. It's perfectly healthy. But never ask me if something's too dark for your kid, 'cause I can't tell.

And just so I don't leave depressed, I will end with a picture of something adorable.

What? This doesn't make you feel better?