A Foray into Tech Horror

15 minute read

This is my final project for FILM 41.10 Global Gothic with Professor Dennis Washburn:

When a crew’s goal is supposedly “to strive towards the betterment of the universe, for the betterment of life itself,” one may presume good intentions amongst its members. Except when this claim is made from the perspective of a not-so-pleasant commander who plays God in his own universe. Before diving into a futuristic world where Microsoft HoloLens Mixed Reality appears flavored with Star Trek, it is worth establishing some protocol. Gothic horror is more than a fear-inducing means of storytelling. It does not even have to make you feel scared. What some today may see in, say, Ishirō Honda’s Godzilla (1954) as a fake destruction of a model city could be interpreted by 1940s Japanese families as the terror of nuclear war laying waste to their nation. Likewise, Black Mirror’s “USS Callister” may not contain as many gruesome monsters or jump scares as numerous iconic films of Japanese, European, and American cinema, so it is easy to categorize it as a simply a sci-fi thriller. What makes “USS Callister” intriguing is how it flips the script: virtual human-like characters feel like us clinging to survive, whereas human characters appear ignorant of their flaws and even sinister. This paper will introduce the concept of tech horror through a comparative analysis of this specific episode, along with numerous non-western Gothic horror films. We show that tech horror describes human beings misusing technologies, some of which are developed with good intention, but are ultimately used to compromise the safety of others; it reveals flaws in the users of technology, rather than in the tech itself.

Masculinity

Captain Robert Daly struggles with masculinity throughout USS Callister, and he applies said frustrations in his personal virtual reality world. At first, Daly appears to the audience as a valiant leader of a space fleet, set in a quirky 70s sci-fi film of sorts. This depicts the glorious image that Daly desires of himself, which contrasts heavily with how he is treated in reality. In the real world, Daly is the CTO of Callister Inc. and the brains behind the company’s product, Infinity: a simulated reality multiplayer game that provides uncanny detail in its avatars. Daly becomes captivated by the company’s new intern, Nanette Cole, but remains passive towards her; he watches as she is pursued by Callister’s attractive CEO James Walton, who looks down upon the main character despite his contributions to the business. Daly uses his VR world to lash out against a digital replica of Walton, choking him into submission. This power struggle motivates Daly to exert dominance, not in society where he is struggling, but in his modded-world where he himself is in charge. He is misread due to his surface traits–quietness, introversion–kind of similar to Erik from The Phantom of the Opera (1925). In Rupert Julian’s film adaption, the phantom’s frightening appearance makes society’s acceptance of him nearly impossible. He rebels through murder and kidnapping while isolating himself in his underground realm, kind of similar to how Daly utilizes his digital world. Although the idea that dangerous individuals lie amongst us just under our noses is terrifying, consider how the maintenance of masculinity could make us even pity the oppressed. I initially sympathized with Daly because of his character, a tech-savvy computer geek whose social inabilities I could somewhat relate with. He has so much potential as does Seth Brundle from David Cronenberg’s The Fly (1986), both of whom have knacks for science and innovation, but abuse technology by behaving immorally–whether Daly’s actions were inherently immoral need be addressed later.

Meanwhile, the compliance that Daly requires of his peers as a result of his obsession for dominance is reminiscent of man’s desire to engineer perfect human beings that satisfy our needs. The main character gains pleasure from forcing humanlike entities to abide by his rules, but note that he brings them to life for a variety of reasons, ranging from somewhat-grounded to trivial: employee Shania Lowry was replicated because she had called Daly out for staring at an intern, whereas employee Nate Packer had simply brought him the wrong sandwich. Daly’s exhibits an underlying perfectionist mentality, a dangerous characteristic to have for someone with such an advanced skillset, especially considering the aftermath of Erle Kenton’s Island of Lost Souls (1932). Kenton depicts the mastermind Dr. Moreau, who performs vivisection on the beast-men inhabitants of his island against their will. Although his experimentations do allow beast-men to behave similarly to humans, it is the dissatisfaction with imperfection that drives Dr. Moreau to intently pursue his research. Similarly, Daly is constantly improving Infinity–he ironically dies because of his own patch update–striving to make his VR world the utmost realistic. A common thread across many Gothic films seems to be this human aspiration to become Godlike in terms creative ability, but there arises the question of whether we are responsible enough to handle these ‘powers.’ The mad-scientist trope commonly associates masterminds with negligence towards those affected by their work–ie. Dr. Moreau willingly hurts the islanders, and Brundlefly forces pregnant Ronnie to have his baby. Cole interestingly states, “Daly’s smart, but he’s not a God. He’s a coder. He is fallible.” She believes that Daly may be headed on a doomed path just like Dr. Moreau and Brundlefly; despite his technological achievement, there is much that even Daly does not know regarding this science, making virtual reality quite a mysterious and murky concept to mess with. Ultimately, it proved to be fatal.

While Daly desires his peers’ acknowledgement of his intellect, it is difficult to keep faith in him due to the treatment of his captives. Although he shows liking for Cole, the episode is far a love story. He is visibly upset by how Walton takes Cole’s attention away from him; from then onwards, Cole becomes nothing more than a new trophy for Daly’s Space Fleet–ie. the collection of avatars in his virtual world. Consider how all members of Space Fleet are stripped of their genitals, preventing any sort of pleasure between one another. Women aboard his fleet are treated as objects, being forced to kiss Daly and look attractive in their mini-skirt uniforms. A comedic moment takes place during the Space Fleet’s fight with the in-game villain Valdack, whom Daly distracts by telling him to look at a “naked lady.” Despite the scene’s humorousness, it depicts this obsession that men have with objectifying women, placing value on their appearance rather than character. It emphasizes how pervasive misogyny has is in our culture, reminding me of a film like Takashi Miike’s Audition (1999); during its climax, the female murderer, Asami, criticizes men for manipulating women for sex. This shows how horror is perceived really depends on the perspective of the viewer; the audience watching “USS Callister” may point to Daly’s behavior as blatant toxic masculinity. That being said, Daly interacts with digital DNA-replicas of human beings, so whether his actions are immoral may come down to what it means to be human. Although we sympathize with Cole and her fellow captives, note that Daly does not hurt any of his real-world colleagues; he transfers his anger into what could be argued as a “safe” space that is his game. Yet, the hyper-realistic nature of the digital clones makes the audience feel as though humans are being tortured. In contrast with Brundlefly, who is difficult for the audience to relate to due to its abstract appearance and indiscernible speech, there are few features that separate the avatars from real people. Rather, they may seem more relatable than their real-life counterparts when we imagine ourselves being in their devastating positions.

Although Daly is a flawed character, he is surely not the only such. For instance, CEO Walton’s alpha personality is problematic as it prevents him from recognizing Daly’s value to the company, in addition to coming off as demanding and jock-like. Though Walton’s clone realizes his mistakes and ultimately seeks Daly’s forgiveness, the real-life version of Walton will remain the self-loving individual he always had been. Effectively, the conclusion of the film seems bittersweet because although Daly is defeated, the lessons learned by the clones regarding respect and loyalty do not cross over to their real-world selves.

Body Horror

The use of body horror in “USS Callister” augments the creepiness of what the protagonist does to his victims, through the robbing of their humanity. The first clear example of such takes place when Cole is punished for entering Space Fleet with an uncooperative attitude; she has no intention of following his orders initially, but quickly realizes that she really does not have any choice. With a snap of his fingers, Daly deletes Cole’s face off her head, leaving her with a ghastly blank skin that suffocates her. Even worse, Daly forces her to remain in her suffocated state for however long he wishes. Effectively, the “mercy” that he shows towards his crew–giving them eternal lifespans–is one his greatest punishments because it leaves no way for torture to ever cease. Consider one emotional scene where Valdack pleads to Daly for him to end his life, to which the protagonist replies, “Killing in cold blood is against Space Fleet code.” The irony is the existence of a code ensuring proper judgement in players in the first place, since the game is rigged all along. The horror realized from the idea of living forever is unexpected since it is natural for us to want to postpone death, but technology is advancing such that one day we may face the choice of whether to “upload our consciousness” to a cloudlike space. But what it means to be alive without having to worry about death gives way to a dilemma, one perhaps too complex to discuss further in this paper. Returning to body horror, the most graphic of torture tactics is the transformation of avatars into alien monsters. Daly turns Shania and Gillian, a captive whom we do not get to meet in person, into monsters to remind his other clones of the consequences for stepping out of line. Shania’s transformation was gruesome due to her erratic body movements and beast-like sound bites played as she turned into the nightmarish figure. Unlike Brundlefly’s mutation, which alters Seth’s brain chemistry and decision-making, mutations in Daily’s VR world do not make the original bodies any more evil however. Particularly in Gothic horror, characters are often misread for being threatening based on their outward appearances alone. Take for instance George Franju’s Eyes Without a Face (1960), in which the audience is made to feel uneasy about Christiane’s innocence because she wears a ghostly mask. During the scene where Christiane approaches Paulette with the scalpel, there is a sudden moment of tension when we may expect the former to hurt the helpless women. Instead, she surprises the audience by setting Paulette free, perhaps out of sympathy and/or guilt for her father’s brutal experiments. This scene, and the respective one from “USS Callister,” reveal important underlying assumptions that audiences make that impact their experience of a film. Similar to how monsters are misunderstood, Daly himself may feel a similar way about his own life, perhaps using his manipulative powers as revenge. He may believe that he deserves payback for being wronged by society, inadvertently making himself the villain as he values his status over the well-being of his subjects.

What is Tech Horror?

Although “USS Callister” may cause fear over the implications of a technologically advanced world, it is more so a criticism of its users than the resource itself. Note how technology plays a crucial role in Hideo Nakata’s Ringu (1998) in that it facilitates a disturbing video that dooms its viewers. Television screens allows the spirit of Sadako to attack Tomoko and Rjüji in their homes, places that people associate with comfort and less often with violence. But the lesson here is not that we should stay recluse of technology just because it can be dangerous sometimes. We are to look back on Sadako’s past and consider her struggles with psychic abilities and death at the hands of her step-father. Perhaps we are to blame Dr. Ikuma for taking young Sadako’s life out of frustration, angering her spirit in the first place. This is where the “monstrousness” of the human being is implied; we often behave out of ignorance and negligence, scapegoating others to shift blame away from us. Technology has the potential of being abused, but our responsibility should be to use it with deliberation so that do not hurt ourselves. We should not forgo its potential benefits by not utilizing it.

The notion of “tech horror” is relatively new because society is only just awakening to the sheer power that tech companies have over our livelihoods, prompting the need for a finer definition of this sub-genre. The show Black Mirror is in many ways The Twilight Zone of the 21st century because of how it startlingly echoes the anxieties of modern times. Rod Serling, creator of The Twilight Zone, used the show to present dystopian tales about the effects of nuclear war–the show was broadcasted during the height of the Cold War–the potential of alien invasion, as well as abstract themes like human psychic abilities. Although many concerns of the 1960s never became a reality, they morphed into more nuanced fears. The arrival of modern computers brought rise to Facebook and Google, companies that currently process enormous amounts of our personal data, while mobile devices seem to have glued people to social media. Tech horror may loosely be defined as this portrayal of the broken, imminent future of tomorrow that appears to lack meaning any longer. The title, “black mirror,” alludes to the unknown that lies beneath our screens and beyond our consciousness. Although innovation has allowed mankind to live longer and stabilize itself in the universe, Godzilla (1954) alludes to, it has also revolutionized war and destruction of cities filled with innocent people. We have become engrossed in a growingly materialistic world and turned into a heavily consumerist society, leading to questions of whether our lives have lost purpose due to our obsessions.

Tech horror emphasizes the transformation of human identity, something that is grounded in Gothic horror across numerous cultures. What stands out to me in Japanese Gothic horror films like Kenji Mizoguchi’s Ugetsu (1953) and Masaki Kobayashi’s Kwaidan (1965) is the unpredictability of women, as they often embody spirits who punish men for their unfaithfulness. This criticism comes down to the identity of Japanese men and how they felt they were doing good by fighting in war and leaving their families vulnerable. In modern society, an emphasis is placed on one’s outward image, not just in real life but also digitally. People are disconnected from the real world and focused on, say, popularity; just how obsessed they can potentially become is depicted in another episode of Black Mirror: Nosedive. Whereas in European Gothic horror, I experienced more visual discomfort from monsters like Count Orlock from F.W. Murnau’s Nosferatu (1922) and Erik from The Phantom of the Opera. Orlock was surely one to fear, but Erik was somewhat misunderstood, which is a reminder for today’s society of the dangers of believing people are being truthful in how they present themselves digitally. Many purposefully mislead others for self-betterment. Meanwhile, American Gothic horror often delivers sympathy towards the frightful and the oppressed, but not always does sympathy resolve in the victory of those at hand. Though Sayer of the Law and his people do overthrow Dr. Moreau in Island of the Lost Souls (1932) to avenge their long suffering, a character like Norman Bates from Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho (1960) shows that the audience can be fascinated by someone who may not be who he/she seems. Daly initially captures the audience’s attention with his quirky love for sci-fi, but this masks the immorality behind how he demonstrates his passion.

Conclusion

The defeat of Robert Daly in “USS Callister” is a cold reminder that we may not know what we are getting ourselves into as we relentlessly pursue science and discovery, yet the flaws that hold us back lie within us, as is consistently seen in Gothic horror films. Masculinity is not the sole motive for developers who misuse their creations for harming others and emboldening themselves. However, it is an underlying flaw that is characteristic of man, and it is so vividly displayed on screen that the potential of powerful virtual reality simulations becoming methods for torture is extremely worrying. We may sympathize with Daly because he was mistreated, but there is a line between expressing one’s pain and transferring it onto others. The question remains how to decide whether digital avatars are human, or rather, what characteristics determine whether we can sympathize with an entity. I argue that if we can extract emotion from an object’s expressions, regardless of how foreign or alien it looks, we can train ourselves to feel for it. Body horror is visually alarming perhaps because we still possess the compulsion to “other” those who look different from us. Albeit, perhaps it is a fundamental part of being human that is difficult to overcome. Tech horror offers a glimpse as to what is wrong with us, and what we need to do to prepare for tomorrow.

Works Cited

Audition. Dir. Takashi Miike. Perf. Ryo Ishibashi and Eihi Shiina. Omega Project, 1999.

Godzilla. Dir. Ishirō Honda. Perf. Akira Takarada, Momoko Kōchi, Akihiko Hirata, and Takashi Shimura. Toho, 1954.

Eyes Without a Face. Dir. Georges Franju. Perf. Pierre Brasseur, Édith Scob, Alida Valli, and Juliette Mayniel. Champs-Élysées, 1960.

Island of Lost Souls. Dir. Erle Kenton. Perf. Charles Laughton, Richard Arlen, Leila Hyams, Béla Lugosi, and Kathleen Burke. Paramount, 1932.

Kwaidan. Dir. Masaki Kobayashi. Perf. Rentarō Mikuni, Keiko Kishi, Kazuo Nakamura, and Kanemon Nakamura. Toho, 1965. “Nosedive.” Black Mirror. Netflix. 21 Oct. 2016. Television.

Nosferatu. Dir. F.W. Murnau. Perf. Max Schreck, Gustav von Wangenheim, and Greta Schröder. Film Arts Guild, 1922.

Psycho. Dir. Alfred Hitchcock. Perf. Anthony Perkins, Janet Leigh, Vera Miles, and John Gavin. Paramount, 1960.

Ringu. Dir. Hideo Nakata. Perf. Nanako Matsushima, Hiroyuki Sanada, Rikiya Ōtaka, and Yoichi Numata. Toho, 1998.

The Fly. Dir. David Cronenberg. Perf. Jeff Goldblum, Geena Davis, and John Getz. 20th Century Fox, 1986.

The Phantom of the Opera. Dir. Rupert Julian. Perf. Lon Chaney, Mary Philbin, Norman and Kerry. Universal, 1925.

Ugetsu. Dir. Kenji Mizoguchi. Perf. Masayuki Mori, Machiko Kyō and Kinuyo Tanaka. Daiei Film, 1953.

“USS Callister.” Black Mirror. Netflix. 29 Dec. 2017. Television.

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