In the previous post in this series, entitled What is so philosophical about serial-murder and serial-killers?, it was demonstrated that the serial-killer presents an intriguing challenge to our traditional concepts of morality. In addition, it was demonstrated that whilst serial-killers may charecterise their own actions as being defined by the Neitzschean ‘will to power’, such a self-portrayal is based on a misconception and misunderstanding of the Nietzschean corpus. In this post, entield The Serial-Killer in the Media, we will explore a number of fictional portrayals of the serial-killer and throughout this essay it will be argued that the en masse appeal of the fictional serial-killer arises as they serve as challenge and reveal our own moral boundaries. In order to illustrate this argument, the author will explore and analyse three fictional serial-killers, namely: Patrick Bateman, Hannibal Lecter and Dexter Morgan. However, we will first explore and describe the evolution of the serial-killer as a recurrent and increasingly popular theme in literature, television and film.  

The narrative themes of human suffering and evil acts have permeated literature since the fourteenth century. For example, in Milton’s Paradise Lost Satan is presented as the source of all human evil whilst in The Divine Comedy the reader is presented with a menagerie of human sin that is met with unimaginably cruel and inventive methods in order to restore the injured divine justice of God. However, whilst evil has been a common narrative theme for approximately six hundred years “the growth and popularisation of the and representations of the serial-killer throughout the 1980s can be attributed to the discursive construction of serial-killing in the mid 1970s” (Macdonald, 2013: p1). The term ‘serial-killer’ emerged as a discursive phenomenon in the 1970s after Robert Ressler – the co-founder of the Federal Bureau of Investigation’s (FBI) infamous Behavioural Analysis Unit coined the term in a lecture at the Police Staff Academy and following this definition the popular discourse surrounding serial-killers exploded and culminated in the 1970s and 1980s being commonly portrayed as the ‘golden age of serial-murder’. In contemporary cinema, the recurrent theme of the serial-killer began with John Carpenter’s Halloween (1978). In the aforementioned, Micheal Myers, donning his infamous mask -a distorted and twisted version of Captain Kirk’s face, terrorises the adolescents of his childhood hometown. As Macdonald notes in Dissecting the ‘Dark Passenger’: “following Halloween’s positive reception, serial-killing became a recurrent narrative theme and myriad representations of serial-killers … became increasingly pervasive in the news media, literature, television and film” (ibid).  Throughout their recurrent narrative presentations, the fictional serial-killer has been presented in a number of varying styles that range from the hyper-modern aesthetics of Patrick Bateman to the more ‘traditional’ image of the psycho-killer in a butchers uniform with a terrifying mask pursuing an isolated group in a rural area. Therefore, the spectral image of the fictional serial-killer traverses a range of social topographies and their popularity is not limited to a singular social group – the fictional serial-killer may be wealthy, poor, psychotic or psychopathic and retain their narrative popularity. As Deal and Waller note in Meditations on Murder: “Serial killers hold a fascination in the popular imagination that is far disproportionate to their actual social significance. You would think that we were in the midst of a serial-killing epidemic” (Deal and Waller: 2010: p3). In addition, the methods through which individual murders are presented are highly stylised and focus on the concept of a psychopathic individual, usually male, ‘doing things with bodies’. The murderous act is articulated in extremely fine detail and we observe or read the serial-killer physically degrading the body of the victim. For example, in an episode of CBS’ procedural crime drama Criminal Minds entitled The Lesson, the fictional serial-killer reimagine their victims as marionette dolls in order to to stage a performance designed to fulfil their psychosexual fantasies. Here, the bodies of the victims are distorted and transgressed by strings and wood to re-conceptualize them as dolls in the presence of the viewer. The detailed articulation of murder in the serial-killer genre dlineates the boundary between between viewer, serial-killer and victim which consequently results in “a space where private and public fantasy to an extent that the cultural appetite for violence may be sated via the poisitioning of the viewer” (Macdonald: 2013: p2). In addition, the advent of continuous round-the-clock television and streaming services allows the viewer to relive a plethora of violent actions at their own demand: “Technology facilitates mimesis and allows the re-playing and re-experiencing of collective trauma. We need only recall the looped footage of hijacked planes penetrating the Twin Towers in 2001 to reinforce our compulsion to watch suffering and broken bones” (Lee: 2013: p106). As we will see in our analysis of the fictional serial-killer Dexter Morgan, contemporary technology presents the opportunity for us, as viewers, to experience a range of horrific violence from behind protection of the glass screen. Furthermore, society’s obsession with the serial-killer, both fictional and real, is reinforced by the morbid array of serial-killer memorabilia that can be purchased from various websites. For example, “on the website, www.supernaught.com, the enthusiast can purchase a note handwritten and addressed to a Florida Death Row inmate by Ted Bundy,  original Pogo the Clown artwork by John Wayne Gacy and an unfinished bag of Chips Ahoy! cookies once owned by Charles Manson” (Lee: 2013: p017). Both our technological distancing and the purchasing of morbid memorabilia can be succinctly described as examples of ‘wound culture’. To briefly summarise this section, the popularity of the fictional serial-killer evolved from the point in which the term ‘serial-killer’ was discursively defined by the FBI’s infamous Behavioural Analysis. Following this discursive definition, the fictional serial-killer has been presented in a plethora of different forms and these wide-ranging presentations have resulted in a aesthticisation of serial-murder. Moreover, the technological distancing of the viewer from acts of violence and the ready availability serve to further evidence serial-killer fascination and provide us an example of ‘wound culture’. 

Patrick Bateman, the anti-hero of Bret Easton Ellis’ American Psycho and Marry Harron’s film adaption of the same title, is the post-modern fictional serial-killer par excellence. We are introduced to this physically attractive fictional serial-killer who commits frequent and grotesque acts of random violence whilst observing his meticulous exercise, diet and beauty regime. For the purpose of this essay, the author will draw examples from both the novel and its adaption. Bateman is presented as a highly stylised individual whose external appearance, lifestyle and choice of cuisine represent his penchant for hyper-consumerism: “I’ve forgotten who I had lunch with earlier, and even more important, where” (Easton Ellis: 2000: p76) The need to consume, designer goods, luxury foods in the most popular restaurants  and humans, has replaced Bateman’s desire for meaningful social relationship which subsequently results in a vacuous, 

and self-described, void in Bateman’s core. As Lee notes in Shopping and Slaying: 

“Hyper-consumerism is substituted for fulfilment, leading to a perversion of (in)human responses. Bateman’s most genuine moments of expression do not occur in the heat of ferocious attacks. Rather, they are in direct response to the status that certain symbols accord and their exchange value. In the film, such moments are captured in Bateman’s voice-overs or when trying to ascertain an enviable table at an enviable restaurant” (Lee: 2013: p113). 

 The compulsion to consume/ possess implicates the whose fascination with the gruesome spectacle of Bateman’s murders provides us with an example of the economic principle “that the market will strive to meet ever-incresing demand; revealing a mask of sanity that, to borrow from Bateman, started to slip” (ibid).  Bateman is an embodiment of the notion of vampiric capital. Furthermore, social dissociation as a consequence of vampiric capital in American Psycho is reinforced by the mechanisms through which Bateman and his associates acquire their considerable wealth. For example, Bateman frequently spends his working days browsing entertainment magazines, listening to tapes on his Walkman or fanatsing of and designing idealised murders. Labour presupposes social relationships, and Bateman’s labour is both practically non-existent and anti-social. Additionally, Bateman is presented as a caricature of the economic and political principles that characterised the Reagan administration. Easton Ellis’ selection of Bateman’s initial victims resembles the Reagan’s administration’s view towards a number of minority groups and crises: “it is perhaps no coincidence that his intial victims in the novels (homosexuals, the homeless and immigrants include those identified in Reagan’s policies as impeeding the nation’s path to prosperity” (Lee: 2013: p109). The emerging AIDS crisis is frequently referenced throughout the dialogue of American Psycho, and Reagan’s policies in preventing the further development of the epidemic revealed both his negligence towards a marginalised group and his homophobia. In a heated exchange between journalist Lester Kinsolving and White House Press Secretary Larry Speakes, reported in an article entitled The Reagan administration’s unbelievable response to the HIV/AIDS epidemic, the response of the administration is characterised as “chilling: It treated the epidemic as a joke” (Lopez: 2016). The Reagan administration ridiculed the developing HIV/AIDS epidemic, and throughout American Psycho Bateman targets individuals who identify as LGTBQ+ and rids the prospering United States of the ‘dregs’ who are hindering the path to further prosperity. In addition, Bateman frequently targets a further marginalised group – the homeless. In an article entitled Ronald Reagan’s Legacy: Homelessness in America Dreier notes “Another of Reagan’s enduring legacies is the steep increase in the number of homeless people, which by the late 1980s had swollen to 600,000 on any given night – and 1.2 million over the course of a year. Many were Vietnam veterans, children and laid-off workers’ ‘ (Dreier: 2004). Additionally, the attitude of President Reagan towards this developing crisis mirrored their attitude towards the developing HIV/AIDS epidemic – ridicule and a marked lack of responsibility that focused on victim shaming and blaming. Bateman’s shares a similar attitude to that of the Reagan administration, in an infamous scene he questions and subsequently attacks a homeless man, Al, and his dog stating “Get a goddamn job, Al! You’ve got a negative attitude! That’s what’s stopping you! You gotta get your act together. I’ll help you” (Easton Eliis: 2000: p54) As with his murders of homosexuals, Bateman’s murders of the homeless further rids the steets of undesirables and presents him a self-aggrandizing avenger who acts upon the “unquestioned authority of upward social mobility and wealth” (Lee: 2013: p110). As Lee succinctly contests:

“In American Psycho, Patrick Bateman functions as a severe caricature exploding the underlying ideology of the New Right stripped of its sugar coated spin and sloganeering. A military conservative and laissez-faire mentality finds its staunchest supporter in the unapologetic Bateman” (Lee: 2013: p109)

In this sense, Patrick Bateman is not dissimilar to the protagonist of a Dostoyevsky’s novel who indulges his bitter contempt for society – they share an overtly hyperbolic prose and increasingly erratic behaviours that are symptomatic of their discursive contexts. The character of Patrick Bateman reveals and subsequently delineates our own moral boundaries implicates us, as viewers and readers, in the grotesque logic of hyper-modern capitalism. Our desire to possess and consume an increasing array of commodities is not categorically different to Bateman’s need to possess and consume an array of victims. Secondly, Bateman functions as a caricature of the economic, social and political policies of the Reagan administration and the New Right. Their explicit cruelty and callousness is brought to life by Bateman, which subsequently requires us to reflect on the cruelty and callousness of that which he embodies. 

In Jonathan Demme’s 1991 on-screen adaption of The Silence of The Lambs, Clarice Starling, a trainee FBI agent, infamously states “there are no words for what he is”. The fictional serial-killer Dr. Hannibal Lecter is a brilliant psychiatrist and unrelenting cannibal who, following his capture and subsequent incarceration, assists the FBI in identifying and capturing his fellow fictional serial-killers. His friend and recurring antagonist Will Graham contests in Thomas Harris’ Red Dragon: “He’s a monster. I think of him as one of those pitiful things that are born in hospitals from time to time. They feed it, and keep it warm, but they don’t put it on the machines and it dies. Lecter is the same way in his head, but he looks normal and nobody could tell” (Harris: 1988: p67).  Lecter is unlike other psychopaths, in that his actions and behaviours fail to reach the behavioural threshold required to ascertain the category of psychopath. As we observed in the first post in this series, Typologies and Categories, the category of psychopath is defined by a recognisable series of behaviours and deficiencies. Whilst the psychopath may delineate our roles as ‘normal subject’, the character of Hannibal Lecter delineates and disintegrates the category of psychopath. For example, it has been suggested that a defining trait of the psychopath is their unreliability which arises from their inability to “consider future consequences” (Gray: 2010: p195).  On the other hand, Lecter can be considered extremely reliable and is frequently called upon by the FBI in order to assist with capturing other fictional serial-killers and regularly delivers with notable results. In addition, Lecter’s crimes are meticulously planned and forensically sophisticated which illustrates a concern for his future freedom and his capacity to commit future crimes. As with Buffalo Bill’s character in The Silence of the Lambs, and as noted by Keegan in It Puts The Lotion In The Basket: “Psychological assessments of Buffalo Bill’s behaviour invoke a notion of pathology, this suggests a normative assessment of human behaviour” (Keegan: 2010: p131). Our psychological assessment of the psychopath is premised upon normative assumptions and assessments of their behaviour, and Lecter behaviour and psyche resists our normative assumptions and assessments through its distinctiveness. Furthermore, Lecter’s is presented as physically abnormal when compared to those around him: “Dr Lecter has six fingers on his left hand”(Harris: 1988: p15) and “Dr Lecter’s eyes are maroon, and they reflect the lights in pinpoints of red” (Harris: 1988: p17). Unlike Patrick Bateman, who is the image of stereotypical male beauty, Lecter, whilst well groomed and well dressed, is physically abnormal to his fellow fictional serial-killers. As we have observed, Hannibal Lecter traverses the ‘traditionally’ defined categories of the fictional serial-killer. In this manner, Lecter’s uniqueness envelops us in his grotesque actions and devious exploits and his refusal to be categorised reflects our own, as subjects, failure to conform with previously defined categories and definitions. As a result of the aforementioned, we, at least I cannot, help but ‘root’ for Lecter as continues to indulge in the grotesque and resits categorisation as his struggle against definitions is a mirror of ours whilst concurrently being  disgusted at his actions. Thus the paradox of the fictional serial-killer emerges. 

The paradox of the fictional serial-killer is best illustrated in the character Dexter Morgan – the protagonist of Jeff Lindsay’s Dexter novels and the Showtime television adaptation of the same name. For the purpose of this post, we will focus on both the novels and television adaptation. By day, Morgan is a highly successful blood-splatter analyst for the Miami-Metro Police Department and a functioning member of contemporary society who develops meaningful relationships and provides suitable ‘guidance’ for his step-children. By night, Dexter is a vigliante serial-killer who preys on the morally degenerate in society, murderers, peadophiles and rapists, as opposed to the innocent as outlined in ‘The Code of Harry’ which was outlined and defined by his step-father – Harry Morgan.In Dexter’s Miami, violence and aggression are defining factors in the characters life and “this is nowhere more apparent than on the city’s roads” (Bentham: 2013: p23) In the opening episode of Season One, entitled Dexter, Morgan is shown driving through the streets of Miami at night whilst the viewer is presented with “a bewildering array of blurred, fast-moving images of decadence and consumption” (ibid).  Isolated in his automobile, Dexter is both physically and emotionally distant from the bewildering displays of modernity that occur around him. On occasion, we, as viewers and readers, can feel overwhelming by an increasingly nightmarish modernity and subsequently “the elaborate travelling shot works to make the viewer feel as alienated as Dexter, and has the added effect of aligning us more closely with the titular hero, thus increasing our identification with, and empathy for, the killer” (ibid). American Psycho’s Patrick Bateman is a product of post-modern consumerist society, whereas Dexter Morgan is presented as inherently alienated from it. In both the novels and their on-screen adaptations, the setting of Dexter represents our collective anxiety over the political, social and economic decay and the increasing inability of such a society to administer justice. As a result of this, Morgan’s crime can be perceived as a response to the society in which he lives. 

 In Darkly Dreaming Dexter, Dexter states: “I’m not sure what I am. I just know there’s something in me. I hide it. I certainly don’t talk about it, but its’ always there, this Dark Passenger. And when he’s driving, I feel alive, half sick with the thrill of complete wrongness. I don’t fight him. I don’t want to” (Lindsay: 2005: p13). The ‘Dark Passenger’ symbolises Dexter’s monstrous true nature that is calmed and ‘dignified’ by his stringent moral code. The channelling of Dexter’s inherent nature into, what he and Harry Morgan, perceive to be a socially productive activity chateriss him as a vigilante, and as Ioannidou contests in The Dark Defender:

“Vigilantism responds to the anxiety sparked off by the fear of rising levels of violence combined with a disbelief in the power and efficiency of the justice system, Vigilantes aim to control crime or social infractions by offering assurances of security through violently punishing those who escape the law” (Ioannidou: 2013: p174).

Throughout both the novels and the television series, the villains of Dexter are presented as the antithesis of Dexter. For example, Arthur Mitchell – ‘The Trinity Killer’ of Season Four randomly selects four innocent victims in order to complete his fetished sequences of murders, whereas Morgan only targets those who have escaped jurdical punishement. Therefore, Dexter’s targeting of “those who have gone unpunished seem more acceptable or even welcome” (ibid). As a result of the aforementioned Dexter’s vigilantism is enthusiastically greeted by the audience as it removes inherent threats, such as Hannibal Lecter and Patrick Bateman, from the social populace and ensures that the risk incurred by such individuals is minimised. However, our enthusiasm is not without consequence and our support for his actions requires us to reconsider the extents of our moral boundaries “by being both a protector of innocent and serial killer in need of taking lives in order to calm his Dark Passenger” (Ioannidou: 2013: p176). On one hand, we support Morgan as a hero who is not limited by conventions in his restoration of the balance of good and evil, and on the other hand we are morally required to condemn his actions as immoral as a consequence of their very nature. The narrative of Dexter responds to anxiety regarding “un-punishment and our desperate need for moral accountability” (ibid) and subsequently presents us with an issue of ‘natural justice’ which, in the context of the novels and television series, reflect a generalised truth about the human condition. To briefly summarise this section, the fictional serial-killer Dexter Morgan “becomes a dark defender that brings our justice fantasies to life” (Ioannidou: 2013: p177). 

To conclude, throughout this post we have observed that the popularity of the fictional serial-killer emerges from their capacity to challenge our moral boundaries as subjects. However, firstly, we initially observed that the popularity of the fictional serial-killer was discursively defined by the FBI and subsequently evolved through a number of films like Halloween. In addition, it was demonstrated that ready availability of serial-killer memorabilia and the technological reproduction of grotesque events can be characterised as a phenomenon referenced to a ‘wound culture’. Throughout this post, it was argued that the popularity of specific fictional serial-killers arose from their capacity to delineate the limits of our moral boundaries. Firstly, it was shown that Patrick Bateman, the protagonist of American Psycho, revealed the moral extent of our hyper-modern need for consumption and served as a caricature of the political, social and economic policies of the Reagan administration. Secondly, it was shown that Hannibal Lector, the recurring antagonist of the Red Dragon series and Hannibal, enveloped in his grotesque actions by resisting characterization to any pre-defined category of individual. Finally, Dexter Morgan, the titular protagonist of the Darkly Dreaming Dexter series of novel and their infamous on-screen adaptation, challengers our limits as moral agents by functioning as a ‘Dark Defender’ which results in a paradoxical moral issue: we implore Dexter for his remedial actions and are concurrently offended by them. As we have observed throughout this post, the fictional serial-killer challenges our boundaries and limits as moral agents and consequently their popularity is unparalleled. 

Bibliography

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