Should Christians Watch Horror Films?

John Bickley introduces a special Halloween edition of Morning Wire in which he and Georgia Howe set aside the news to discuss horror movies. They explain that the debate they have seen online is specifically whether Christians should avoid horror because the genre might glorify evil or cultivate a spirit of fear. Both hosts immediately acknowledge that they have watched a lot of horror and have favorite films, so the episode is not a simple argument for rejecting the genre. They decide to start with the case against horror. Bickley says Christians might reasonably ask whether a genre built around evil, terror, violence, and disturbing imagery is spiritually harmful, especially if repeatedly indulging negative emotions is detrimental. Howe agrees that some content is gratuitously violent, perverse, or disturbing in ways that offer no meaningful benefit. She compares this to the difficulty of distinguishing nudity used for an artistic purpose from pornography: she cannot always give a precise rule, but some horror feels similarly gratuitous. She does not think experiencing fear or other emotions is inherently immoral, however, and hesitates to condemn other viewers simply because a film is not especially edifying for her.

Bickley says horror is the genre he and his family have avoided longest with his young daughters. His caution comes partly from his own experience with The Exorcist, which he watched at a friend’s house at about 13 or 14. The film traumatized him for years; he even remembers crying and asking God why he had been allowed to watch it. That experience convinced him that frightening material can have a major effect on young viewers. He distinguishes between teaching children to fear real threats and exposing them to a level of terror that may not be useful. He is unsure whether some kinds of terror ever help, but says the question is especially important for children. Howe adds that sexually perverse material and certain “icky” corners of horror make her uncomfortable, although she still would not automatically pass judgment on adults who choose to watch them. Their emerging position is therefore not that every horror film is acceptable or that every horror film is harmful. Instead, they emphasize discernment, age, the content’s purpose, and whether the film offers anything beyond gratuitous shock.

The hosts argue that horror often has a built-in moral structure that makes it less susceptible to certain kinds of ideological messaging. Howe says horror and thrillers are difficult to use for propaganda because the audience must agree about what is actually frightening; a filmmaker can try to make something like global warming scary, but the genre depends on visceral threats that viewers recognize as frightening. She also says horror can expose conservative or traditional moral intuitions by showing what feels objectively wrong. As an example, she mentions American Horror Story’s images of fetuses in jars, arguing that even a strongly pro-choice viewer may find the image viscerally disturbing. Bickley adds that a successful horror story generally needs a clearly defined evil entity. A story made entirely of moral grayness would make a poor horror film. If the evil is demonic or occult, the story often implies a counterforce of divine goodness; they note that priests are unusually likely to be heroes in horror, even though that is rare elsewhere in Hollywood. Howe names Practical Magic as a possible counterexample because it treats witchcraft sympathetically, while Bickley discusses Harry Potter as another case in which magical power is not simply the villain. He says Harry Potter nevertheless develops a clearly evil, selfish, dark form of magic that can be read as a stand-in for something more spiritually significant.

The hosts defend fictional magic and horror by distinguishing imaginative engagement from actual belief. Howe says enjoying stories about magic or the occult does not mean adopting them as a worldview. Bickley makes the same point about The Lord of the Rings: although Tolkien’s world contains wizards and spiritual forces, viewers can understand those elements as a fantastical way of exploring spiritual and emotional truths. They also say horror’s murder-mystery elements help explain its appeal, since viewers want to discover who is responsible and why. Howe connects this appeal to women’s interest in true crime and Investigation Discovery programs. Even when the story is another account of a spouse killing a spouse, viewers can imagine what they would do differently and learn not to make the same mistake in a similar situation—such as not walking toward the dark basement. Bickley describes this as a kind of Greek-tragedy catharsis: audiences experience a character’s downfall, survive the story, and return to ordinary life intact. Howe also cites a psychological study involving people who crossed a slightly frightening suspended bridge. Those participants rated an attractive person with a clipboard as more attractive and reported more chemistry, suggesting that fear and arousal can make life feel more vivid. They argue that horror can similarly leave viewers feeling more awake, provided the experience remains controlled and fictional.

Bickley says people want the heightened emotional range of a theater, where the screen, sound, and shared audience make events feel larger than life. Horror provides that intensity in a safe environment. Fiction also requires a “suspension of disbelief”: viewers know the story is fake, yet can empathize with imaginary people and feel genuine fear or sadness. The hosts see this capacity as part of human creativity and empathy, and Bickley says he believes God gave people the ability to imagine and create for a reason. They also value horror’s implicit agreement with the audience. Unlike a drama, which can move in almost any direction, horror promises familiar beats, archetypes, and rules. A vampire, zombie, or werewolf brings an established body of lore that a filmmaker can follow, challenge, or subvert. Howe says this is why audiences can watch many vampire or zombie movies and still enjoy them if each film executes its expected components and “sticks the landing.” Bickley argues that this predictability helps explain why horror remains one of Hollywood’s safest bets: it does not require major stars or an original premise, and even a retreaded vampire story can attract a substantial audience. He says a studio such as Daily Wire could potentially make horror successfully, as long as it presents the material in an edifying rather than gratuitous way.

Howe names It Follows, released in 2014, as her favorite scary movie. She praises its dialogue, pacing, and creature reveal, saying the movie remains frightening after the threat is revealed instead of collapsing in its second half. She also values what she sees as a wholesome core: although the central threat resembles an sexually transmitted infection that stalks its victims, a young man ultimately steps up to protect a young woman, creating a celebration of innocence and goodness amid the evil. She also lists The Ring as among the scariest films she has seen, and later adds The Silence of the Lambs because it combines horror with a murder mystery—the type of story she says she may actually like most. Bickley’s list includes The Shining, which he admires for Jack Nicholson’s performance, its isolation and trapped-space setting, and the terror of people who should be trusted becoming the threat. He includes The Exorcist, while cautioning that he does not necessarily recommend everyone watch it; he calls it nearly perfect at accomplishing what it sets out to do. He also names Alien, which he considers more horror than science fiction, and Ghostbusters as a nearly perfect lighter horror film with an effective score and an expansive supernatural lore. His fifth choice is Rosemary’s Baby, which he says directly engages demonic forces and the biblical idea of the Antichrist. Howe also praises Stephen King’s small-town settings and rising action, even though she thinks his supernatural endings often become chaotic or fail to explain themselves.

The conversation ends with Howe describing a zombie novel, The Forest of Hands and Teeth, as an example of how established horror lore can support fresh world-building. The story takes place in a distant, post-technology future after a zombie apocalypse. A small society lives behind multiple layers of fences and has developed a strict, almost medieval religious order, complete with nuns and a controlling church. Men and boys maintain the fences because zombies are constantly trying to break through them. When a breach occurs, a group of teenagers escapes and discovers another isolated community, including a treehouse society, showing how different pockets of civilization have developed. Howe says she has long imagined writing fan fiction based on this kind of premise, building a zombie society around a particular geographic region and working out its social structure. Bickley encourages her, and she asks whether the audience would buy it. They then reveal that both are creative behind the scenes and that Bickley is working on “a little scary thing” of his own. They close by reiterating that horror can be gratuitous and spiritually unhealthy, but it can also explore moral reality, faith, fear, sacrifice, and human nature. Neither offers a universal rule that Christians must watch or avoid the genre; their conclusion is that the specific film, the viewer’s age and sensitivities, and the purpose and execution of the horror all matter.