Martin F Norden

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The film [Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone] is about the triumph of good over evil, and that is what people want right now.

-Robbie Coltrane, shortly after the 9/11 terrorist attacks1

Evil, as Time writer Lance Morrow reminds us, is one of our most important words, invested as it is "with the dignity of mystery and theology."2 Though we live in a relativistic age marked by ever-increasing secu-larity, the term is far from anachronistic. Despite our efforts to understand extreme antisocial behaviour from other than strictly theological viewpoints - via psychogenetics, for example - it still has the power to stir ancient primal beliefs. Small wonder, then, that this potent word has often been invoked to further a range of agendas, often highly political ones.

History is littered with examples, but ones from the first years of the twenty-first century should suffice. Within two days of the September 11 terrorist attacks, the Baltimore Sun spoke for many when it defined Osama bin Laden as "the face of evil." In the months following the attacks, U.S. President George W. Bush stirred considerable controversy by labelling Iraq, Iran, and North Korea "the axis of evil." In his first public statement on the sexual molestation cases that rocked the Roman Catholic Church in the U.S., the late John Paul II observed that some priests had succumbed "to the most grievous forms of the mysterium iniquitatis [mystery of evil] at work in the world." In a 2004 essay on Iraqi terrorists' video-recorded beheadings of western hostages, Harvard scholar Michael Ignatieff posed a poignant question: "Why can't we just call [such] acts by their proper names and conduct ourselves accordingly? The name for this is evil." In April 2007, a Virginia Tech student from South Korea named Cho Seung-Hui embarked on the deadliest shooting spree in U.S. history but somehow had the presence of mind in between the killings to send video recordings and photographs of himself to NBC News. Bloggers around the world wasted little time dubbing the ranting and weapon-brandishing Cho "the new face of evil."3

Evil is unquestionably on many people's minds these days, and this anthology confronts what may well be the primary means by which it is revealed to us in this age of high technology: moving-image media. There is more than a little truth to author Roy Baumeister's assertion that people today "gain more frequent and vivid glimpses of the face of evil from movies than from religious writings."4 I brought together this book's essays in the belief that movies and television have strongly guided our thoughts about evil and will do so for the foreseeable future. As we ponder the evils of the past and grapple with those of the present - many of which we "know" only through mass media - this book will, I hope, shed much-

needed light on a critical topic that touches us all.

Though this anthology's roots may be traced to a themed issue of the Journal of Popular Film & Television that I guest-edited in 2000, the book was driven largely by the unspeakable events of the following year and the frequent application of the good-evil dichotomy to them. Betty Burkes, Pedagogical Coordinator for the Hague Appeal for Peace, summarised well the immediate post-9/11 political climate fostered by the U.S. government: "Since September 11th, the rhetoric of good and evil has been used to pump up support for U.S. policies and patriotic fervour and preparing the American people for the U.S. government to invade Iraq and Afghanistan." 5 Though the tactics of appealing to fear and demonising the "Other" are fairly standard rhetorical strategies,6 the period following 9/11 witnessed their elevation to a level unseen since the most frigid days of the Cold War.

The dichotomous world-view promulgated by the Bush administration and its supporters was initially seductive for many in its history-effacing, "feel-good" simplicity. As Burkes further noted, "We are comforted by the notion that we are good, and then we relinquish our authority to those in power who promise to protect us from what is evil." Moreover, the strategy of characterising a person or even an entire people "as something horribly vile and inherently evil," to quote Fordham University's Robin Andersen, has hardly been limited to political leaders eager to justify armed invasions of other countries; it has also found frequent expression in movies, television programming, and other popular-culture forms. Commenting on the mediated instances of evil that have sprung up in the wake of 9/11, Murray Pomerance, editor of the 2004 anthology Bad: Infamy, Darkness, Evil, and Slime on Screen, noted the growth of verbal and visual references to evil across the post-9/11 landscape: "The invocation of malevolence in political and social life and in our popular cultural fictions has seemed to mushroom, to have spread everywhere, and it is understandable how any discussion of the proliferation of negativity onscreen might be thought inspired by those horrendous events [of 9/11] or aimed in response to them."7

Though it might be tempting to regard national political rhetoric and film/TV entertainment as mutually exclusive areas, the construct of good and evil - or, more accurately, good v. evil - clearly undergirds both. In the public's mind, they cannot help but be linked. According to Nancy Carlsson-Paige, a Professor of Education at Lesley University and co-founder of Lesley's Peaceable Schools Center, this bipolar way of thinking is "a dominant perspective in the U.S. that saturates all of the media for every age group. And it gets people to think that there is an evil 'Other' out there that you have to exterminate." Betty Burkes, who has noted the media's "crucial role in both serving us misinformation and perpetuating this simplistic logic in its news reports, which are often indistinguishable from entertainment," underscored the ancient dualism's frequent structuring role in film and television: "The dichotomy between good and evil is a very popular theme in entertainment media. Since good guys are always fighting with evil, it gives filmmakers a great excuse to use violence."

When evil is ascribed to "Others," it may make little difference to audiences if it occurs through government sound bites on network newscasts or the Fox network's hit TV show 24 (2001-) and its ilk.8

Does the prevalence of such a dichotomous weltenshauung in film and television facilitate the ready acceptance of fundamental political rhetoric? In other words, have audiences in our media-saturated world become so conditioned to think along these rather simplistic lines that they are likely to be receptive to the latest like-minded pronouncements? Or do the media's productions merely reflect a perspective that has long been woven into the fabric of society's soul? I think few would quarrel with the idea that film/TV and society enjoy a mutually causal relationship, but that relationship remains a conundrum resistant to easy explanations.

Though 9/11 will be remembered for many things, including its role as a major driving force behind numerous mediated representations of evil and discussions thereof,9 it is important to note that the interest in evil in popular culture is not tied to any particular time-period; it is nothing if not ongoing. Here is a set of examples that predates 9/11, drawn from my own experiences. In the spring of 2000, when I was guest-editing the themed issue of the Journal of Popular Film & Television on the moving-image representation of evil, I was struck by what seemed a heightened fascination with the topic. In 1999 and the first few months of 2000, for instance, members of the H-FILM internet mailing list (otherwise known as the H-NET List for Scholarly Studies and Uses of Media) had engaged in at least four extended discussions of evil in moving-image media.1 In 1999, the Boston Institute for Psychotherapy and the Counseling Psychology Division of Lesley University gave a Nietzschean twist to their annual "Psychology Goes to the Movies" film and discussion series by dubbing it "Beyond Good and Evil: The Villain Within." In March 2000, in association with Oxford University hosted "Perspectives on Evil and Human Wickedness," a multinational, multidisciplinary conference that included sessions on media representations and that has since become an annual event. And my own call for papers for the JPFT issue generated countless inquiries from around the world and netted dozens of completed submissions. As pointed as these examples may be, however, it is likely that we could find similar expressions of interest throughout the history of moving-image media. In short, concerns about mediated evil may ebb and flow, but they are always present.

These concerns have been prompted in part by the sheer number of films and television programmes that have trafficked in good and evil over the decades. There is no doubt that evil has proven a particularly serviceable abstraction for legions of media practitioners. They have changed the face of evil frequently, conflating the concept with just about every conceivable identity variable at one time or another and also associating it with a host of nonhuman subjects: animals, extraterrestrial aliens, even inanimate objects. In so doing, they have turned evil into nothing short of a ubiquitous commodity for our consumption. Perhaps more disturbingly, their actions and the motivations behind those actions have largely gone unquestioned.

Despite our ongoing fascination with the concept of evil, what do we really know about it? Ervin Staub, a Holocaust survivor and author of such critical texts as The Roots of Evil: The Origins of Genocide and Other Group Violence and The Psychology of Good and Evil: Why Children, Adults and Groups Help and Harm Others, has suggested that its essence "is the destruction of human beings. This includes not only killing but the creation of conditions that materially or psychologically destroy or diminish people's dignity, happiness, and capacity to fulfil basic material needs."11 Evil as a general subject has long been an area of inquiry for theologians, philosophers, psychologists, sociologists, and anthropologists, amongst others, but it has attracted relatively little in-depth writing from film/television scholars. There are, of course, numerous studies of specific genres that trade heavily in evil, such as war, horror, and science fiction; it is the rare monograph or edited volume, however, that goes beyond generic boundaries or individual productions to take an overarching perspective on the moving-image construction of evil and connect the phenomenon to the substantial body of literature on evil per se. This collection of essays seeks to redress this situation, if in a limited way.

The roles that film and television can play to get us to think analytically and critically about evil are certainly open to debate. Richard Woods in his Christian Identity Series book The Media Maze speculated that the voyeuristic nature of the viewing process insulates film audiences (and, by extension, their television counterparts) from any mediated evil they might witness even as they are tantalized by it. "Evil occupies a large portion of everyone's experience of life," he wrote. "It is inescapable, at least in its social effects. By portraying evil in the film, the artist enables his audience to delve experientially into the world of sin and guilt, but protected by the vicarious nature of the medium."12

Others have gone a step further by suggesting that moving-image makers have often unduly heightened the pleasure of what Woods has termed the "proxy-experience" of film and television when representing evil. Consider, for instance, the perspective of Jim Ware, co-author of Finding God in "The Lord of the Rings," on this point. Shortly after the release of The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King (2003), Ware opined that, although J. R. R. Tolkien "didn't make evil seem interesting or attractive at all" in his writings, the film may transform evil into something appealing merely because of the medium's highly visual nature:

I have a feeling that the movie may have the effect of glamorizing evil for certain viewers to a certain extent. I say this not because I think [Peter] Jackson's film is a bad or propagandistic film, but simply because it is, in fact, a film. Movies are intended to impact us visually. We patronize the cinema because we want to see something. And showing audiences what they want to see is what movies do best. That's what makes them so exciting. It's in this bare, purely sensory way that I suspect Jackson's work might end up making evil look more in-

triguing than it actually deserves to look.13

Ware thus added his voice to a chorus of thinkers who have faulted the film/TV construction of evil out of hand. Others include Frank Cawson, author of The Monsters in the Mind: The Face of Evil in Myth, Literature and Contemporary Life, who bemoaned what he called "the escapist trivialisation" of embodied evil often found in popular culture, arguing that "it has to be accepted that the media must respond to public demand, that their explicit function is to entertain and divert, that self-righteous moral lessons are self-defeating and unacceptable." Claiming a distinction between "imaginary" and "real" evil, William Styron argued that the "evil portrayed in most novels and plays and movies is mediocre if not spurious, a shoddy concoction generally made up of violence, fantasy, neurotic terror, and melodrama." Taking a less strident tone, Roy Baumeister suggested that "it is easy to be misled by fictional examples because of the distorting power of the myth of evil." In What Evil Means to Us, C. Fred Alford offered a sweeping condemnation of the moving-image representation of evil. Essentially arguing that the media offer only pale imitations of "real" evil and fail to demonstrate strategies for containing it, Alford suggested that the representations may offer short-term stimulation "but in the long run can only desensitize us to evil."14

In a cogent counterargument, Cynthia Freeland asserted that horror films - and, by implication, other films and TV programming that represent evil - can and do "offer rich, varied, subtle, and complex views on the nature of evil." Drawing heavily on cognitivist film theory, she suggested that such productions are constructed to elicit responses both emotional and intellectual; in her words, they "prompt emotions of fear, sympathy, revulsion, dread, anxiety, or disgust. And in doing so, they also stimulate thoughts about evil in its many varieties and degrees: internal or external, limited or profound, physical or mental, natural or supernatural, conquerable or triumphant" [emphasis in original].15

For example, movies and TV programmes can help us understand what Lance Morrow has termed the "normality of evil." This phrase, a corrective of Hannah Arendt's far more familiar "banality of evil," refers to a concept that has been the focus of considerable debate ever since the 1963 publication of Arendt's coverage and analysis of the Adolf Eichmann trial.1 She made it clear that the horrific crimes of the Nazi era were not committed by wild-eyed maniacs or Satan's grinning minions but by all-too-ordinary humans:

The trouble with Eichmann was precisely that so many were like him, and that the many were neither perverted nor sadistic, that they were, and still are, terribly and terrifyingly normal. From the viewpoint of our legal institutions and of our moral standards of judgment, this normality was much more terrifying than all the atrocities put together, for it implied [that this new type of criminal] commits his crimes under circumstances that make it well-nigh impossible for him to know or to feel that he is doing wrong.17

Writers in many fields have been drawn to this relatively new view of evil, and media practitioners have proven no exception. Robert Towne grappled with it in his screenplay for The Last Detail (1973), in which a naive young sailor is escorted to a naval prison by two career seamen who are fully aware of the harsh realities that await him there. According to the Darryl Ponicsan novel on which Towne based his script, one of the career sailors feels so badly for the young man that he helps him escape. Towne disagreed with this development, believing that it makes the character, and people in general, more noble than they actually would be under such circumstances. "When it really comes down to hard decisions, people are not very courageous," he said. "And I don't mean it cynically. They try to be kind, but they don't have the courage very often to back it up . . . People tend to fall back and say, 'Gee, I'm just doing my job,' whether it's a German throwing Jews into an oven or [the career sailors] throwing the guy into the brig . . . Everybody falls back on that, and that's the real evil . . . 'I'm just doing my duty, you know,' and I felt that, to take people who are essentially kind and funny and witty and charming and still in their own self-interest have to do something cruel, makes a better point."18 The result of Towne's deliberations is a powerful and gripping example of quotidian evil on screen.

An interest in mundane evil can also be found in retellings of more traditional stories. In Merlin, a 1998 made-for-TV film based on the Arthurian legend, screenwriters David Stevens and Peter Barnes had arch villain Queen Mab utter the following line: "With evil all around me, I can do nothing but evil to survive." Though Mab is unlike Eichmann and his cohorts in that she is quite able to see her actions and their context as evil (indeed, she is one of the most self-aware villains ever to have appeared on the screen), her line gives us some insight into the unspoken day-to-day evil that marked the era of the Third Reich.

Alford's rumination on the media treatment of evil contains other provocative statements. Some of the more astounding appear in the following passage:

Culture is of no value when it mirrors the experiences that terrify us. When it does, culture is talking the language of the autistic-contiguous position, imitation without understanding or integration. The evening news is not culture, though it is the number-one source of the free informants' examples of evil. Nor are most movies culture. A meaningful culture stands at a distance, connecting with our experiences but not becoming them . . . Are there cultural resources available for young people to construct their own narratives? Movies and TV do not seem to lend themselves to such active constructions, being experienced more passively, a parade of icons across the screen, like the shadows on the walls of

Plato's cave.19

In view of the substantial body of work of film theorists ranging from Hugo Münsterberg and Rudolf Arnheim during the first decades of the twentieth century to cognitivists such as Noël Carroll and David Bordwell, the "passivity" argument seems quaint at best and hardly worth debating. Alford's rather idealistic and elitist view of a "meaningful culture" deserves attention, however, since it is at odds with the way that many people use media. First of all, films and TV programming are most assuredly a form of culture, though we may infer from Alford's choice of words that he regards them as a "meaningless" or "valueless" culture. Such a view of media is dangerously short-sighted. As I and many others would argue, films and TV programmes are hardly simple mechanisms for reflecting reality; instead, they are the reality on which many viewers draw for ideas about the world around them. In other words, many spectators construct their views of the world in terms of the mass-produced, profit-minded imagery that bombards them daily.

Alford's arguments are flawed for another, related reason: his implied view that evil is something distinct and readily lends itself to comparisons with its film/TV imitations. Evil is not simply a subject in our set of non-mediated "experiences"; it is a social construct, and it is well worth noting that the things we might regard as real-world instances of evil often come to us solely through mass-media forms: history books, newspapers, magazines, TV network newscasts, documentary films, etc. In her landmark book on the representation of the Holocaust, Indelible Shadows, Annette Insdorf underscored this point by suggesting that "the mass audience knows - and will continue to learn - about the Nazi era and its victims" primarily through motion pictures. Her views are echoed by postmodernist critic Jean Baudrillard, who has observed with customary hyperbole that "we forget a little too easily that the whole of our reality is filtered through the media, including tragic events of the past." Instead of attempting to separate mediated evil and its "real-world" equivalent - a highly problematic dualism, to be sure - with the goal of conducting a comparative analysis, our time would be better spent if we worked toward a better understanding of three intertwined concerns: the types of extreme antisocial behaviour that have marked our world, regardless of the ways in which we ultimately achieve awareness of them; why certain ones continue to be emphasised in films and TV programming; and the strategies employed for their representation.20

For instance, the study of mediated evil can help us understand how and why moving-image makers continue to draw from, and thus perpetuate, ideas about evil found in national mythologies. The concept of evil is a highly conspicuous part of world mythology and its overlapping functions (to establish and preserve cultural norms, to impose order on an otherwise chaotic world, to explain phenomena that cannot otherwise be explained, to entertain, etc.), and we might argue that film/TV practitioners have pressed mythologised evil into service for two main agendas: to reinforce "gender, racial, moral, and ethnic hierarchies by punishing those who transgress socially prescribed boundaries," in the words of historian Steven Mintz,21 and to further maintain the mainstream's cohesion by inscribing extremely untoward qualities and behaviours onto "Others." As an example (and as I argue in my own chapter), mainstream filmmakers and television producers have frequently borrowed from the ancient linkage of disease and disability with punishment and sinfulness in their representation of people with disabilities. Taking their cue from Biblical admonishments and such literary constructions as Shakespeare's Richard III, Hugo's Quasimodo, Stevenson's Long John Silver, and Barrie's Captain Hook, they created highly problematic imagery throughout the twentieth century. Needless to say, they have not stopped during the twenty-first.

The chapters that follow, then, examine the construction of evil in select productions and from a variety of perspectives: amongst them, philosophical, psychoanalytic, auteurist, historical, and critical-cultural. Many of the "usual suspects" of philosophy and allied fields are invoked in these chapters: Plato, Descartes, Hobbes, Nietzsche, Freud, Heidegger, Sartre, Lacan, Bakhtin, Zizek, Baudrillard - in brief, a broad array of critical thinkers from Augustine to Zoroaster. The American mainstream ("Hollywood") film is the dominant mode of discourse examined here, but it is by no means the only one; television dramas and network news programming are studied, as are international narrative films and a notable documentary. Though by no means a comprehensive history, this book offers something for just about everyone interested in the general topic.

A word needs to be said about the ordering of this anthology's chapters. Instead of separating them into discrete (and, perhaps, unduly limiting) sections or, worse, presenting them in haphazard order, I thought it best to arrange them so that a winding thread appears to connect them. That thread - which admittedly threatens to unravel at times - is adumbrated below.

The first chapter, appropriately, examines items found at the beginnings of films: the titles. Taking the view that film title design is a relatively unexplored site of cultural production, Matthew Soar guides us through the encoding of evil in the opening title sequences of three key films: Psycho (1960), Se7en (1995), and American Psycho (2000).

Though Soar barely mentions Psycho's director, Alfred Hitchcock, his chapter is nevertheless a reminder that Hitchcock's representations of good and evil continue to intrigue scholars; indeed, the "Master" looms large over a sizable portion of this book. Linda Bradley Salamon examines the historicising of larger-than-life murderous figures in Hitchcock's Rope (1948) as well as in Richard Fleischer's Compulsion (1959), Brian De Palma's Scarface (1983), and Richard Loncraine's Richard III (1995). Mike Frank studies a quartet of Hitchcock's films released over four different decades - The Lodger (1926), Shadow of a Doubt (1943), Vertigo (1958), and Psycho - while arguing on behalf of a pluralistic critical approach for examining good and evil in the Hitchcock oeuvre. Cynthia Freeland examines the concept of natural evil in cinema, using The Birds (1963) as her primary exemplar.

Freeland's chapter marks a turn in the anthology from matters largely (but by no means exclusively) Hitchcockian to specific film/TV genres often associated with evil. Matt Hills and Steven Jay Schneider venture further into the world of the horror film - a world that surely claims The Birds' Bodega Bay as one of its capitals - by exploring the relatively recent phenomenon of supernatural serial-killer films. Thomas Hibbs moves into the kindred realm of fantasy cinema with his examination of the Harry Potter movies and how their represented evil differs qualitatively from that found in films of the previous decade such as Cape Fear (1991) and The Silence of the Lambs (1991). Concentrating on two police dramas - Training Day (2001) and the FX television series The Shield (2002-) - Robin R. Means Coleman and Jasmine Nicole Cobb study the role of race in the construction of "evil cops." Agreeing with Pedro Almodovar's observation that people with disabilities "have often been used in genre films, especially stories of terror, thrillers, or melodramas,"22 I employ Freud's famous essay "The Uncanny" and other works as a collective lens through which to examine the frequent conflation of evil and disability in film and television. In addition to their genre connections, these latter two chapters demonstrate how readily filmmakers and TV producers can take identity factors such as race and ability and infuse them with senses of villainy to suit their political agendas.

Carlo Celli's chapter, which investigates the contrast of Holocaust evils and the comedic surface story of Roberto Benigni's Life Is Beautiful/La vita e bella (1997), embodies a final transition in the book: from evil-themed genre/identity studies to the exploration of evil as represented within the context of global events and national leadership from the World War II years onward. Basing his interpretations in part on the theories of Jacques Lacan, Garnet Butchart discusses the deftly minimalistic approach to representing evil in Jay Rosenblatt's Human Remains, a 1998 documentary film ostensibly about the domestic lives of Hitler, Mussolini, Franco, Stalin, and Mao. The evils of a U.S. president and the amorphous "beast" that surrounds him are the foci of John F. Stone's study of Oliver Stone's Nixon (1995). Finally, Gary R. Edgerton and colleagues William B. Hart and Frances Hassencahl examine the framing of good and evil on television in the days immediately following the horrific events of 9/11.

I offer these authors my heartfelt thanks for their flexibility, openness to editorial suggestion, good humour, and willingness to go that extra mile with me to see this book through to completion. I also wish to thank the people who provided behind-the-scenes assistance in the preparation of this book: Ali Blacker, Margaret Breen, Agnes Curry, Rob Fisher, Daniel Haybron, Jay Rosenblatt, and the ever-helpful staff at Jerry Ohlinger's Movie Material Store in Manhattan. I also offer thanks to Alicia Verlager and Julia Rodas for their suggestions, and to Gary R. Edgerton and Michael Marsden for allowing me to "test-drive" some film/TV/evil ideas on the pages of the Journal of Popular Film & Television. A special note of appreciation goes to Jack Shaheen, author of Reel Bad Arabs: How Hollywood Vilifies a People and, in my not-so-humble view, one of the most wonderful people on this planet. I would also like to express my gratitude to the UMass-Amherst Communication Dept. for providing me with a base of operations and absorbing some of my expenses, and to the university's Office of Faculty Development for allowing me the time and space to wrap up this project at a faculty writing retreat. Finally, my thanks to Kim, Toby, and Erika for their encouragement and support and for putting up with my varying degrees of distractedness.

As the image of Virginia Tech killer Cho Seung-Hui stares back at us from behind the barrel of a handgun, it is all too clear that the essays contained in this book do not constitute the end of the discussion. They are, nevertheless, an important step toward a fuller understanding of evil as represented in film and television. I hope that they will serve as the basis for an ongoing dialogue on one of the most pervasive and, at the same time, least understood of human constructs.

Marty Norden

Amherst, Massachusetts USA


1. Cited in "Perspectives," Newsweek, 12 November 2001, 21.

2. Lance Morrow, "Coming to Clarity About Guns," Time, 3 May 1999, 46. See also his "The Real Meaning of Evil," Time, 24 February 2003, 74.

3. For an analysis of Bush's State of the Union speech, see Massimo Calabresi, "The Axis of Evil: Is It for Real?" Time, 11 February 2002, 30-31. Michael Ignatieff, "The Terrorist as Auteur," New York Times Magazine, 14 November 2004, 54. See also Michael Ignatieff, The Lesser Evil: Political Ethics in an Age of Terror (Princeton: Princeton Univ. Press, 2004). For a typical blog report on Cho Seung-Hui, see <>.

4. Roy F. Baumeister, Evil: Inside Human Cruelty and Violence (New York: W. H. Freeman, 1997), 63.

5. Burkes cited in Miguel Picker and Chyng Sun, Beyond Good and Evil: Children, Media, and Violent Times (Northampton, Mass.: Media Education Foundation, 2003), video recording.

6. See, for instance, Richard Paul and Linda Elder, The Thinker's Guide to Fallacies: The Art of Mental Trickery and Manipulation (Dillon Beach, Calif.: Foundation for Critical Thinking, 2004), 28-29.

7. Burkes and Andersen cited in Picker and Sun; Murray Pomer-ance, "Introduction: From Bad to Worse," in Bad: Infamy, Darkness, Evil, and Slime on Screen, ed. Murray Pomerance (Albany: State Univ. of New York Press, 2004), 1.

8. Carlsson-Paige and Burkes cited in Picker and Sun. Not so surprisingly, the Fox network's news division has been highly supportive of George W. Bush's policies in Iraq and Afghanistan.

9. For example, I think it highly unlikely that the bookseller giant Barnes & Noble would have created an "Evil" book series under its own imprint had it not been for 9/11. Begun in 2002, the series includes titles such as The Most Evil Men in History, The Most Evil Women in History, The Most Evil Men and Women in History, The Most Evil Mobsters in History, and The Most Evil Dictators in History. The word "Evil" on their covers is notably about five times larger than any of the other title words.

10. The H-FILM discussions may be found at the list's searchable archive, located at this address: <>.

11. Ervin Staub, The Roots of Evil: The Origins of Genocide and Other Group Violence (Cambridge: Cambridge Univ. Press, 1989), 25.

12. Richard Woods, The Media Maze (Dayton: George A. Pflaum, 1969), 83.

13. Jim Ware, online posting, Beliefnet, 12 December 2003 <>.

14. Frank Cawson, The Monsters in the Mind: The Face of Evil in Myth, Literature and Contemporary Life (Sussex: Book Guild, 1995), 155; William Styron, Sophie's Choice (New York: Random House, 1979), 149; Baumeister, 18; C. Fred Alford, What Evil Means to Us (Ithaca: Cornell Univ. Press, 1997), 13.

15. Cynthia Freeland, The Naked and the Undead: Evil and the Appeal of Horror (Boulder: Westview Press, 2000), 2-3.

16. As Morrow has noted, his corrective is related in part to Ar-endt's own dissatisfaction with her oft-quoted phrase. See Morrow, "Real Meaning," 74.

17. Hannah Arendt, Eichmann in Jerusalem: A Report on the Banality of Evil (New York: Viking Press, 1963), 276.

18. Robert Towne, interview transcript, American Film Foundation, Santa Monica, California, 1981, 15-16. Towne's line about "a German throwing Jews into an oven" is of course problematic (the Nazis used the crematoria for the disposal of their victims' corpses), but his point is taken.

20. Annette Insdorf, Indelible Shadows: Film and the Holocaust, 2d ed. (Cambridge: Cambridge Univ. Press, 1989), xvii; Jean Baudrillard, The Transparency of Evil: Essays on Extreme Phenomena, trans. James Benedict (London: Verso, 1993), 90.

21. Steven Mintz, "Film Wrestles with Evil," H-NET List for Scholarly Studies and Uses of Media, 25 January 1999. <>.

22. Pedro Almodóvar, dustjacket notes for El cine del aislamiento: El discapacitado en la historia del cine, by Martin F. Norden (Madrid: Escuela Libre Editorial, 1998). My translation of Almodóvar's notes may be found at < html>.

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