At the start of the semester, when the question “what is a monster?” was posed, I had a clear answer in my head. To me, a monster was first and foremost not human; secondly, it had an ugly appearance. I pictured some sort of disgusting, blood thirsty creature that feeds on human flesh. According to the Oxford English Dictionary (OED), a monster is defined as (1) “a mythical creature which is part animal and part human, or combines elements of the two or more animal forms, and is frequently of great size or ferocious appearance,” or (2) “any imaginary creature that is large ugly, and frightening.” Both the OED definition and mine are rooted in physical appearance and the body. According to these definitions, a monster must be a “creature” that is unpleasant to look at and invokes fear due to their appearance. Monsters, therefore, are defined primarily by their physicality. However, throughout my analysis of monstrosity over the course of the semester, I have found that there’s much more to them than their appearance. So, what makes a monster?
We began the semester with The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao by Junot Díaz. This book set the stage for my focus on physicality throughout the semester, as it had much to say about bodies, whether it be how Belicia’s defined her as a young woman, how Lola’s served as a key part of her independence from her mother, or how Oscar’s was the main thing that set him apart from others. Oscar both defines himself and is defined by the narrator based on his physical appearance and how he looks different from others. He’s described as an “overweight freak,” who grew “fatter and fatter” and had had acne so bad that it “scrambled his face into nothing you could call cute” (15-16). As I mentioned in my first blog post of the semester, Oscar is described in a way that is comic book-esque. This description makes him out to be grotesque and undesirable, like he’s something unnatural just because he doesn’t fit the typical image of other Dominican men his age. He failed in “pulling in the bitches with both hands,” and as a result, he’s an outsider (24). Essentially, Oscar is likened to a monster physically. People are repulsed by him. Obviously, he isn’t a monster but the way he’s treated mimics the reactions that people have when seeing an actual monster, and he’s treated like this purely because of his physical appearance.
Similar connections can be drawn to Guillermo Del Toro’s 2018 film, The Shape of Water, which also heavily focuses on physical appearance and how it relates to monsters. At the start of the film, the obvious assumption is that the Fish Man is the monster, and this assumption is made because of his physical appearance. He fits the definition of a monster; he’s a “creature,” who is “ugly” and “frightening.” But why is the monster defined by physicality alone? The existence of the Fish Man echoes Cohen’s point about how monsters are representations of “otherness.” The Fish Man is frightening because he looks unusual and is therefore an “other.”
While the Fish Man may be an “other,” we begin to see that this doesn’t necessarily make him a monster. We see emotion in him; we see him fall in love with Elisa, which humanizes him. While he’s capable of harm (like cutting off Strickland’s fingers) he’s also capable of love and understanding. He never actually does anything wrong, and as the movie progresses, it is clear that the Fish Man isn’t the true antagonist. Although he fits the traditional description of a monster, he isn’t one. Strickland takes on the role of the true monster as he’s the one who becomes consumed with power and goes out of his way to harm others. However, he isn’t initially presented as the real “monster” because he doesn’t fit the traditional description. He’s a human man. He’s American. He has a nice job, a nice car, and a beautiful family. All of these things make him trusted and familiar. Ultimately, because of the way he appears in society, Strickland isn’t considered a monster. However, he’s the one who becomes violent and teeters on the brink of madness, killing people in the process. So, what makes the monster? A monster cannot and should not be defined simply by physical appearance, but instead by actions and internal thought processes as well.
A similar phenomenon exists in Manuel Muñoz’s What You See in the Dark: the human ends up being the monster as well. Dan Watson is a seemingly perfect man; he’s the most eligible bachelor in town. Everybody knows him and his mother. He’s a staple of the town. He’s consistent and therefore, he’s trusted. He’s introduced through the eyes of someone who loves him and pines after him, and as a result his physical description is emphasized and idealized. Nobody in town expects him to be a murderer; he’s simply not that type. Like Strickland, he doesn’t fit the description of a “monster.” He’s “normal.”
In my analysis of monstrosity throughout this course, I have found that physicality is often the defining factor of what makes a monster. However, this isn’t always the case. Monsters come in all forms; they don’t necessarily have to be “creatures;” they don’t have to be scaly and slimy and blood thirsty and inhuman. They can look like any ordinary person, like Strickland, Watson, or Bates from Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho (1960). Humans can be monsters as well. The Shape of Water and What You See in the Dark take on the traditional idea of a monster and totally redefine it, encouraging a deeper look into the inner workings of a monster. The “outsiders” and the “others” – who are often depicted as LatinX or POCs in media – are no longer the monster. Instead, the white counterparts in each text take on that role. They are the true threats in these stories.
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