We Are the Monster Kids: A Fan Tribute to GDT
by Greg Kishbaugh
We are the Monster Kids.
Raised on the Frankenstein Monster, Dracula, The Creature from the Black Lagoon and The Mummy, in all their dream-like black-and-white glory. Creaking from caskets, stumbling toward unwitting victims, ephemeral and terrifying, yet, to us, as sympathetic as any humans.
From blurry rabbit-eared televisions, we watched slack-jawed as acid-faced monsters chased screaming lab assistants and fifty-foot atomic insects wiped out entire military regiments.
We had no need for square-chinned leading men. Our heroes, with their sunken cheekbones and haunted eyes, had names like Karloff and Lugosi, Price and Cushing.
We relished in the blood-soaked pages of EC Comics. Thrilled to the sepia dreamscapes of Creepy and Eerie magazines. Engulfed each new issue of Famous Monsters of Filmland, filled with equal measures of terror and delight.
We were told it was all nonsense. We were told it would corrupt our minds. We were told to pursue higher culture and leave the silly men in rubber suits and the cheap, pulp comics to those with lesser minds.
But we knew the truth. We were the enlightened ones. We just had to wait for the rest of the world to catch up.
And this year, thanks in no small part to Guillermo del Toro and his masterwork The Shape of Water, the world has finally come to terms with what we’ve always known: Monsters are beautiful, terrible and glorious; a perfect reflection of ourselves. They deserve not just our fear, but our compassion. And, as in the case with The Shape of Water, monsters are not always who we believe them to be; sometimes the greatest monsters come wrapped in the form of racism and bigotry.
It is in this light that we reflect upon the recent accolades rained down upon del Toro. Golden Globes, Baftas, a Golden Lion from Venice, and, of course, Oscars for Best Director and Best Picture.
We are asked often: What is it about del Toro that inspires such passion? Why, in certain circles, is he considered more than just a filmmaker? It is because the passion we’ve had all our lives — for the macabre, the weird, the wonderful — is reflected in his eyes. He is one of us.
And not only has he never apologized for his love of monsters — he has turned it into a celebration. Del Toro’s traveling museum exhibit, containing items from his Bleak House home, is aptly called At Home With Monsters. It’s a love letter to comics, and the creatures of Ray Harryhausen, the artwork of Basil Gogos and Bernie Wrightson and the towering figure in del Toro’s worldview, the Frankenstein Monster. The exhibit is like a fog-enshrined journey through the subconscious of every single Monster Kid.
Guillermo del Toro is not the first Monster Kid to gain fame and glory, nor is he the first to receive notice during awards seasons. Steven Spielberg, George Lucas, Peter Jackson, to name but a few. He is the first, however, to earn his accolades by making an unabashed Monster Kid movie. The Shape of Water is an allegory, a fable, a love story. All true. But above all, it’s a Monster Movie. Certainly more artful than most we watched as kids, our hearts racing, but a Monster Movie all the same.
Even the legendary Spielberg, a Monster kid through and through, was not recognized by the academy until he lent his creative prowess to prestige films like Saving Private Ryan and Schindler’s List, both undoubted masterpieces. But so were E.T. and Jaws and Close Encounters — Monster Kid movies one and all.
Hollywood’s lesson has always been simple. Make as many crowd-pleasing genre films as you like, but when it’s time to win awards, you must get serious. No more kid stuff. No more horror or science fiction. Nothing that might reek of genre.
And, naturally, no more Monsters.
But Guillermo never wavered and when he went to the podium to accept his Best Director Award at the Golden Globes, the very first words out of his mouth were like a shock wave to Monster Kids the world over.
“Since childhood, I’ve been faithful to monsters,” he said. “I have been saved and absolved by them, because monsters, I believe, are patron saints of our blissful imperfection.”
Words that struck like an arrow straight to our hearts. Del Toro not only recognized the importance of monsters but also why we love them. Because, in so many ways, they remind us of ourselves.
We watched Spielberg’s face during del Toro’s speech with unbridled joy, gleeful at his reaction. Spielberg was positively aglow, smiling as if he himself had won the award. And in part, he had. Because del Toro’s win further validated a great swath of Spielberg’s oeuvre. Spielberg’s admiration for del Toro was unmistakable, one Monster Kid to another.
If the first words of del Toro’s Golden Globes speech were a seismic shift in the way the world — and specifically Hollywood — viewed monsters, then so, too, were his last.
“I thank you. My monsters thank you. And somewhere Lon Chaney is smiling upon all of us.”
In that instant, calling out by name the legendary Chaney, a man who helped fuel the fervor that would lead to the Monster Craze of the 1950s and 60s, del Toro was speaking directly to us, the Monster Kids, the silent outcasts, the misfits.
Giving us voice. Swelling our hearts with joy. And love. And pride.
We are the Monster Kids.
And, thanks to Guillermo del Toro, our voices are finally being heard.
Greg Kishbaugh is a contributor to DelToroFilms.com and is the author of the horror novel BONE WELDER