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| Medusa, 1598, Caravaggio |
Those of us who are fond of movies, in our younger years at least, and
especially those of the male persuasion, probably also had similar fondness for
scary movies. I recall particularly one of my favourites, The Creature from
the Black Lagoon. There was also The Blob and, of course, all the
Godzilla and King Kong movies, as well a flock of 1950s shock
schlock having to do with creatures mutating from exposure to nuclear radiation.
Before that there was Dr. Frankenstein's monster, Count Dracula, and the Zombies
or The Mummy, which has been remade. Also in more recent years, we have at
least two werewolf movies I can think of plus Jaws, The Fly, and
Arachnophobia, not to mention Steven Spielberg's Jurassic dinosaur series. If
nothing else, such movies were great "date flicks" in that they guaranteed a
very close, clinging relationship in the movie theatre.
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| The Chimera, 1867, Gustave Moreau, a monster too gruesome to be depicted. |
We might have a tendency to think that such perverse entertainment was
invented by the warped minds of Hollywood producers to scare the bejeebers out
of adolescent moviegoers while at the same time keep then coming back to be
scared and re-scared again and again. Actually, nothing could be further from the
truth. Such monsters have been the horror of men's minds probably since cave men
first sat around campfires like prehistoric boy scouts. Greek mythology is full
of them - starting with Pegasus, the relatively benign winged horse who sprang
from the not so benign snake-haired gorgon Medusa (top). Pegasus was ridden by Perseus (left)
who destroyed the Chimera, a monster possessing a lion's head, a goat's body,
and a serpent's tail. Let's see Hollywood top that!
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| The Unicorns, 1887, Gustave Moreau |
Not all the creatures from Greek and Roman mythology were so frightful.
Painters have long given us gentle images such as Gustave Moreau's The
Unicorns (1887) and Piero di Cosimo's A Satyr Mourning over a Nymph
(c. 1495). A satyr, by the way, is half man, half goat, not to be confused with
a centaur which is half man, half horse, or a Minotaur which is half man and
half bull. Picasso's 1936, Minotaur and Dead
Mare paints a not so pretty picture of this breed of monster. From the
Egyptians, we get the Sphinx, half man, half lion, or at least he was until
English artists got hold of this particular creature and changed his sex,
turning him...it...her into a beguiling temptress (now that's really
frightening). Add to this any number of manifestations of the ever-popular
dragon starting with Paolo Uccello's St George and the Dragon (below, left, c. 1460)
and ending with Ingres' Ruggiero Rescuing Angelica (below, right, 1819), and you have
quite a horrific zoo of genetic crossbreeds. It's no wonder we hold in horror
today even the thought of what modern mad scientists might do once they get
their hands on the genetic code.
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| St. George and the Dragon, 1455, Paolo Uccello |
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| Ruggiero Rescuing Angelica, 1919, Jean Auguste Ingres |
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