Imaginary Worlds - Body Horror Gets Under My Skin
Episode Date: May 7, 2025We all have that one thing we just can’t watch. For me, it’s body horror -- the kind of horror where grotesque and disturbing things happen to someone’s body, like in The Thing, The Fly, or The ...Substance. There is a long history of body horror as a form of social commentary and special effects showmanship. I respect the artform, but I can’t stomach the art. So I decided to figure out why. I talk with Chioke l’Anson (horror fan and voice of NPR underwriting), author David Huckvale (“Terrors of The Flesh: The Philosophy of Body Horror in Film”) and author Xavier Aldana Reyes (“Contemporary Body Horror”) about how this subgenre taps into fundamental aspects of being human that we often try to put out of our minds. Plus, I speak with listener Lillie Andrick about why some transgender fans, like her, feel a special connection to body horror. This week’s episode is sponsored by ShipStation. Go to shipstation.com and use the code IMAGINARY to sign up for a free trial. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices
Transcript
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You're listening to Imaginary Worlds, a show about how we create them and why we suspend
our disbelief.
I'm Eric Molinsky.
I have wanted to do this episode for a long time.
I have also avoided doing this episode for a long time.
I have a cinematic phobia.
It's a subgenre called body horror.
Body horror is what it sounds like.
Something horrific happens to somebody's body.
The perfect example is The Fly, directed by David Cronenberg.
Over the course of the film, we watch a man turn into a giant fly.
It happens gradually, one revolting scene after another.
I know for some people, exposing themselves to what they're afraid of can help them
move past it.
That doesn't work for me because I have OCD, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.
OCD affects people differently.
For me, it turns my brain into a saboteur.
Images that I find disturbing will flash repeatedly in my mind on a loop for years.
I tried exposure therapy exactly 10 years ago.
One of my earliest episodes was called Zombie Therapy.
I recorded myself watching The Walking Dead
with my friend Patrick.
Oh my God.
Oh my God.
Oh my God.
This makes me afraid to go outside tomorrow.
This didn't cure you of your zombie phobia, huh?
It did not.
It's almost like OCD is a horror movie villain
that's saying,
Oh, so you're going about your day like normal,
having a good time?
Watch this scene again and again.
On the other hand, the podcaster in me knows
that is a perfect reason to do an episode about body horror.
I should figure out why it bothers me so much.
What's the psychology of body horror?
Talk to people who like it, find out why.
And then The Substance became a big hit.
This is the movie where to me,
Moore plays a fading celebrity.
She takes a formula that unleashes a younger version
of herself who literally climbs out from inside of her body.
That movie got a lot of awards and nominations,
became part of the zeitgeist, and since it was a hit,
we'll probably see more movies like it.
I've also noticed body horror creeping up in other genres. In
the TV shows The Boys and Invincible, which are both superhero satires, body horror is
used to show that a character with super abilities probably wouldn't fight at a PG level of
violence. The bloody, body exploding scenes are effective in showing that you can't have absolute power
without it corrupting you a little bit, if not absolutely.
I respect what they're doing.
I just can't stomach watching the shows.
And then a few months ago, I was at a podcasting conference.
I was talking with Choki Ianssen.
You might know his voice, since he reads the underwriting credits for NPR.
He asked if I'd seen the substance.
I explained why I hadn't.
And he told me about a podcast called Too Scary Didn't Watch.
One host is too afraid to watch horror movies, so her co-host describes the movies to her.
He said, let's try that with the substance. And at that moment, the podcaster and me won out
because I knew that my own discomfort
would make for good audio.
I am like literally getting nauseous right now.
Okay, and I know we're not even at the gross part,
the 20 minutes, that last 20 minutes.
We, yeah, this is, yeah,
this is the part where I thought you'd be fine.
I am like literally dizzy right now.
I think it's cause I realized I'm not breathing. Okay.
We recorded that conversation for Between Imaginary Worlds,
our companion show that's available on Patreon.
We talked for well over an hour,
and I wanna play for you just a few minutes
from the beginning of our conversation
before we got to the substance.
Chiyoki had a theory why body horror freaks me out.
I'm the type of sci-fi fan who gets really
into big abstract ideas or emotions that sweep you away.
You know, the Tom Cruise and the Mission Impossible crew,
they're fighting, they're jumping off of stuff, right?
Like they're facing down bad guys on top of trains.
And it's all very exciting.
But I think that what we're encountering is the action.
And I think that whenever we're watching
when Harry Met Sally or any of the great romantic comedies,
what we're encountering is the feeling.
We're encountering the romance.
In a body horror type
Movie or in a movie that has body horror elements you encounter the body
right and
The thing about the body is that it is inescapable
You will not have an experience of the world that is not embodied and it's that inescapability that is the origin of joy,
yes, but it's also the origin of horror.
Yeah, that is so true.
Because also, a lot of people, when people love movies
or TV shows very often, it's the, or video games,
there's an escapism, because there's like a mind,
you love the mind out of body experience.
I'm not in my body anymore, I'm in this world. Yes.
And to like be reminded of your body like that. It's really
interesting.
Yeah, that's what it does. Right. And everyone has the same
timeframe. Everyone is born, everyone will die, like two
other things that are inescapable. And I think that when body horror,
it's not always about these simple facts
that we're talking about.
But that connection means that very often, body horror
is maximally effective on us.
Even people like me, where I'm like,
I can watch all kinds of horror.
It doesn't matter to me.
But when you merge the meaning,
like whatever, like the kind of the criticism
or the commentary or the theme,
when you merge that with the body in this way,
I think that you can get just like a very effective movie,
which is why I think a lot of some of the great horror films
are body horror films.
You know, actually come to think of it,
so David, I also
saw the fly around that time. It had been around, you know, for years, but I haven't
touched on cable and it disturbed me so much that I couldn't stop thinking about it for years.
I know that David Cronenberg, I know he said he made that movie because his father, I think,
had cancer and just saw his father, his father's body, you know, just become something
unrecognizable. I think it was cancer. But anyway,
it was around that time that I think that one by one, all my grandparents and everybody that generation started dying off. Oh, sure. Yeah. And so I think seeing what it was happening to them
and their bodies, I think, you know, could have also made me understand mortality in a very
different way. Okay, this is very this this makes more sense. So it's kind of like you understood
the true meaning of the fly.
I'm gonna say that in a very pretentious way from now on.
I don't think anyone understands the true meaning of it.
What do you mean by that?
Well, it's just like, because obviously,
usually what happens in these kinds of films
is that they take something that's fundamentally
true and human, and then they use the tools of horror
to call attention to it and examine it.
And so if you don't really have any understanding
of the world, then the way that you encounter the fly
is like sick monster movie.
You know what I mean?
But if you maybe do understand the idea
that a body can be contaminated
by a foreign substance that mutates it,
you see what I mean?
Then when you see the fly,
that you in fact encounter the meaning of the movie.
And that's what makes it bad.
That's what makes it bad specifically for you.
10. Now, I have to admit, I don't avoid body horror completely. I have a morbid curiosity.
And when I hear about a really disturbing scene, I will search for the images on Google. Or I'll
read the recap. 11. I think that a lot of people are in your shoes.
I think that there's a lot of people who are like,
I'm fascinated by this.
I don't really wanna see it, see it,
but I wanna like see it in these ways that I can control.
I think he's right.
I wanna engage with these movies or shows
because I'm interested in the ideas they're exploring,
but I'm also trying to stop the
filmmakers from controlling my immersive experience. Speaking of control, I want to let you know that
if you're squeamish like me, I will not be playing any clips in this episode. I don't want to watch
them and you probably don't want to hear the sound effects. I did experiment with different ways to
describe the scenes that might not be as disturbing, using text-to-speech software and totally inappropriate music.
Like here's a scene from John Carpenter's The Thing.
The Thing As Copper attempts to defibrillate Norris,
his chest transforms into a large mouth and bites off Copper's arms, killing him.
McCready incinerates the Norris thing, but its head detaches and
attempts to escape before also being burnt.
But I decided that's too distracting. However, if you are a body horror fan, I do explain
the plots of some of these films. So if you haven't seen them yet, spoilers ahead. Also,
when I spoke with different people about why they're drawn to body horror, we get
into some heavy topics from the real world, which cannot be softened with the theme music
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imaginary.
I began by looking into scholarship on body horror, and I found a familiar voice.
Xavier Aldana-Reyes teaches at the Manchester Centre for Gothic Studies in the UK. He goes by Zavi for short. You might remember him from my 2023 episode about Gothic horror.
Zavi wrote a book called Contemporary Body Horror and he's working on a second book.
He told me he was drawn to body horror because he was so repulsed by it.
So he started as an attempt to try and work out why I was so negatively impacted by these
films, not just shock moments, but actually why I would go home and dwell on these ideas.
I found out as it happens that torture is one of the things
I found most difficult to watch.
I guess I needed three years of my life
to work that out through a PhD.
I told him I have a theory
why body horror is having a moment.
There's been a resurgence in practical effects.
We've been flooded with digital effects for so long
that when we see practical effects again,
they can be newly shocking.
And there are materials available now
which can create more realistic makeup effects
than when movies like Alien or The Thing broke new ground.
Zavi agreed with me, and he added,
I think this has to do as well with the influences of the people who are making those
shows and films. These were directors that grew up in the 70s and 80s when body horror was
growing and becoming a popular, I mean it wasn't really a category until the mid 1980s.
But you know it's less interesting in us looking back to the body horror in the 80s
and much more about okay well how can body horror help us tell stories about what it means to
be human today?
So the way that bodies are made to look like, you know, what we consider a valid body in
society, which of course is gendered, sexualized and all of that.
That describes the substance, which uses body horror to comment on sexism,
ageism, and capitalism.
David Huckfail is an author who wrote a book
about body horror called,
Terrors of the Flesh.
Body horror has always fascinated him
from an intellectual standpoint,
but when he was writing the book,
this subject hit home.
Both of his parents were dying. David had to become a caregiver
for his father, who had many health issues, including incontinence.
David Hickman It was total disintegration. It was total mutilation and mutation. This lovely man.
And at the end of his life, I remember him saying to me when I was washing him down one
way, someone should just kill me. He didn't want to go through
this horrible experience. That doesn't mean to say it cancelled out all the good things and
lovely things in his life and he had had a good life. But life isn't just that one thing.
No, one doesn't cancel out the other. In terms of disintegration, I saw my mother, she had Alzheimer's,
she just disintegrated. She wasn't the person. Of course, her brain, I mean, it's physical thing.
The brain just disappeared.
So she was totally mutated.
Yeah.
David found himself drawn towards philosophers
who contemplated aspects of the body
we often don't like to think about or talk about,
like the Marquis de Sade.
So the Marquis de Sade was a sort of cornerstone,
in a way, of these ideas, which I think body
horror really sort of explores the idea that we are nothing more than a body and there
is no soul.
There is no spirit.
There's no afterlife.
And when you haven't got that and you're just reduced to a body, it does sort of raise questions
about meaning and the phenomenon of being here, which when you think
about it objectively, as the Marquis de Sade did, is pretty horrific.
The Marquis de Sade was censured, I think. I mean, he was obscene as well.
But in a way, the reality of the body is obscene.
He structured his book around the life cycle of a body.
He starts by looking at body horror
films about copulation, which present our sex drive as something monstrous, from Dracula to
David Cronenberg's Shivers. The next chapter is on birth and childhood, from Frankenstein to the
Omen. He thinks what's disturbing to many people about these aspects of the body is that we share them with animals that we supposedly hold dominion over.
We're constantly in culture trying to distance ourselves from animals and distance ourselves
from our reality, really.
And that's why these films, I think, are so interesting.
There's also a chapter in the book about digestion and the idea that...
We are really nothing much more than a...
Well, it's an extreme
viewpoint, but we are kind of bowels on legs. I mean, so, you know, we can't survive without
digesting. So an awful lot of table manners are designed to hide what we're actually doing.
If you think of David Lynch's eraser head, a chicken comes to life while it's being carved.
It's interesting why that should be worrying because you can see it's a chicken.
It's a dead chicken.
Why should be worried that it's come alive?
Well, because it's saying this was what it once was.
It's like you.
There's another chapter on infection, looking at movies like Invasion of the Body Snatchers
or George Romero's The Crazies.
Zavi thinks it's pretty clear why infection is a common trope in body horror.
Zavi If you listen to evolutionary psychologists,
they will say the reason we instinctively recoil from those things is because we understand
we connect them with disease, with illness, which we connect with death. And, you know, a lot of life is avoiding death and illness and so on. We don't really understand
how our bodies work, you know, why we feel the way we feel. This is why we go to the doctor.
We notice something strange, some kind of potential symptom, and then we go to someone
who can decode the inside of the body for us. David Huckvale's book also has a chapter on mutation.
And when I saw the word mutation, that struck a nerve.
I remembered my first exposure to body horror was when I was a kid.
I was freaked out by the sequence in Pinocchio when the boys turn into donkeys and they don't
turn back.
There's a sliding scale
for me when it comes to mutation. I'm okay with vampires because they're
basically people with new appetites. I am really disturbed by werewolf
transformations but I have a morbid fascination with them. When I hear there's
a really gory transformation scene I won't watch the movie or the show but I
will do a Google image search. And those characters aren't werewolves most of the time. They can even chain
themselves up on a full moon. Zombies fall to the bottom of my sliding scale
because the person's sense of self is totally lost. Their mentality has been
reduced to eat or be eaten. The worst scenes for me are when the characters
realize it's about to happen to them and they struggle to stop it.
David says the message of those films is...
If all that can happen, what are you?
There is his film called Mutations, isn't there, with Donald Pleasence.
And this has Donald Pleasence as a professor and he's trying to turn humans into plants.
He's sort of mixing things together.
And he said in the beginning of this, as in his character, he says, you may think you
are all normal, but you are the product of mutation. Your ancestors, our ancestors, were
freaks.
Because the mutation in their genes gave them a competitive advantage. Although Zavi says,
I mean, mutation happens in the natural world for good evolutionary
purposes. Obviously in body horror it's reversed. You know in body horror bodies decay, they don't
mutate towards a better version of themselves in general. Or if they do, there's a big payback at
some point. David has separate chapters in his book on mutation and mutilation.
In mutilation, people don't turn into something non-human.
Their body is altered or rearranged, and they're self-aware enough to be horrified.
If you can be mutilated and changed, then what is your reality?
You tend to think of yourself as a whole.
What if you're just sort of the parts of a whole,
and certainly in sexual terms,
a film like Frankenhooker.
I actually saw that movie in high school.
Oh, yeah.
Because on the video box it said that Bill Murray wrote,
said, if you see one movie this year,
you should see Frankenhooker,
and that got me somehow to rent it. Well,, you should see Frankenhooker. And that got me somehow to rent it.
Well, I mean, what Frankenhooker is about is the commodification of sex. The fact that
the organs of the body that turn you on, they're all sort of interchangeable. You don't actually
need a person providing you've got the bit. But of course, in the film, it's amusing.
And the guy who's the Frankenstein figure revives his dead girlfriend and uses bits and pieces to do that, selects all these prostitutes
bits and pieces to recreate her because she's been destroyed by a lawnmower
which is a rather nicely stupid kind of way of dying. And he himself then dies,
he's killed and his creation recreates him but because the process requires
female hormones, he turns
into a woman and he's got breasts and he's horrified, you know. He says, where's my
Johnson? Where's it gone? So he's the victim of his own misogyny and his own pornographic
obsession.
Many of us are already experiencing a kind of body horror in slow motion. We're getting
older and aging is kind of like a body
horror movie because you know the worst parts are gonna happen towards the end.
That's why David's final chapters are about disintegration and extinction
movies, whether it's from a plague or an alien invasion.
Is it something that's inbuilt within us? I mean, Freud believed that not only are we sort of driven by an erotic
need, impulse, but we also have this urge to death inside us. Is that, that's a taboo.
But I mean, it's actually quite interesting. A lot of these films are talking about apocalyptic
destruction. Is that something we actually want?
When Zavi did his deep dive into this genre, his biggest surprise was discovering that body horror has always had an element of social commentary. And he put all of body horror in
two separate categories, negative and positive. In the negative body horror, people are punished or
tortured. It's nihilistic. In positive body horror, mutation or mutilation can be
a form of empowerment and self-actualization, even if it's still
unsettling. There's an element in horror that relishes fear, obviously, because
that's what the genre is about. So they're never entirely just empowerment narratives, but I've noticed
that over the past 10 years many directors are now bringing in this
element of sort of living with the other, incorporating the other. The other here
understood as that which we cast out socially, so becoming different than you
are and in the process incorporating your fears becoming different.
He thinks this shift is happening because a more diverse group of filmmakers is getting the opportunity to make body horror.
Not being white, male, straight, or cisgendered.
They have a different perspective on their bodies and how they're objectified in society.
For instance, Zavi mentioned the film Sorry to Bother You, which was directed by Boots
Riley.
It's a satire about contemporary racism.
And there's also a fantastical element.
An evil rich white guy tricks people into taking a substance, which turns them into
human-horse hybrids.
The makeup effects on the horse people really
disturbed me, but it's not gratuitous. Essentially, to be a body is to be
under a series of gases, a cosmetic gaze, a social gaze that typifies you and puts
you in a place. And you know, in the case of sorry to bother you, that has very
real economic implications. It's not just about how you're perceived as a body, but you know, therefore the kind of impact that that has on your opportunities
in your life. So yeah, I think body horror, it's less a sub-genre and much more an element that I
think is speaking to many people. You know, I'm seeing lots of collections, especially in the
2020s, made by trans writers, for example, using body horror to tell trans stories. So body horror again becomes a language through which to tell stories about identity
and therefore about our political experience of the body, which is never just biological.
I've mentioned a few different factors which led me to make this episode,
but there's one more I haven't discussed yet.
Last year I got an email from a listener
named Cressa Maeve Anya.
She told me that she and her friends were talking
and they realized they're all body horror fans.
They're also all transgender.
In her email, Cressa said, quote,
we were all quietly undergoing our own extreme body horror,
whether or not we had the language
and understanding
for it yet.
I found this fascinating, and I talked with a few other trans horror fans who told me
similar things.
One person had a story that really stuck with me.
Her name is Lily Andrick.
I have been a fan of body horror since it stopped scaring me a lot.
When I was very young, my dad was obsessed
with horror movies and he always liked to watch body horror movies and you know that and not to
get graphic but my father did die in a kind of graphic way and that stuff all kind of went on
to like you know as soon as it stopped scaring me I was like actively seeking this stuff out.
That was the third story I heard about the death of a parent
in the context of body horror. I asked Lily if there was a connection for her as well.
Absolutely, unfortunately. You know, without going into too much detail, my father ended up passing
away from a flesh-eating virus. And it was like, it was during a time when my mom and him were separated too.
So like the way it happened was he had to have passed away and then like was left alone for a few days.
And then they found him. That did have a huge impact on me.
Just the idea of like, I know he died in a pretty graphic way and I just have no idea what that actually ended up looking like.
So. Wow. How old were you?
I want to say about 12 at the time. I was living with my mom for about two years prior
to that, though, and only visited my dad every once in a while. So like it was more like
about 10 was the last time I really like frequently saw him.
Wow. So I mentioned, let me go back a little bit.
I mentioned that my dad watched a lot of these really graphic, visceral body horror movies when I was younger, and that stuff left a big impact on me. But it was something that I was
scared of, and it was something that gave me nightmares and kept me up. It basically became
this thing where in my head I internalized this idea of like, okay, these are the hardest movies
for me to watch. And then it almost became a challenge for me. Was there one particular
movie? You guys, you don't remember like one particular movie
where you're like, oh my god, I've done it. I've cured myself of fearing this.
JG. Well, yes, actually, kind of. I had like this like top five list of like the scariest
or most messed up movies of all time. And then the big one that did it for me actually is a movie
called Thanatomorphos. It is a movie about a woman that contracts
a rotting disease. It's kind of like a flesh-eating virus that she gets, but it kind of appears
mysteriously. She doesn't know where she got it from, and the whole movie is literally
just her rotting away in real time on camera and everything. And it is extremely graphic.
As soon as I heard about that movie I was like,
this movie sounds like it's like top of the list kind of thing. So I got it and finally watched it
and it definitely left its marks on me. It definitely was a hard watch. I watched that about six or seven
years ago and after I saw that it was kind of like, oh I can just kind of, anything that looks
interesting I can kind of get into now and I don't have to worry about it being like too much or anything.
But you know, like I still have like, I can watch the most messed up, brutal, gory movie
you can give me and I will watch it with, you know, maybe not a smile on my face, but
close to it.
But I'm very scared of the dark actually, so.
What?
Really?
Yes.
If all the lights are off in the middle of the night and nobody else is up, it actually
freaks me out quite a bit. Why?
Something, something, primal human fear of the unknown. I don't know.
Lily says her interest in body horror increased when she realized that she was trans.
Now, when I heard that transgender fans feel a connection to body horror, I assumed they were thinking about surgery, not as something horrific, but as
being liberating. Lilly says that's part of it, but the real body horror was puberty.
Puberty can be like a body horror experience for anyone, but it's different if you know you've
been assigned the wrong gender at birth. A lot of it is our experience and our
feeling of our relationship to our bodies and how those things change in ways
that we don't particularly like, in ways that feel, you know, foreign and uncomfortable.
And body horror is all about fear of the body changing and doing things we don't want it to.
Going into transitioning, even that was kind of scary in a very visceral body horror kind of a way
because I'm finally taking the steps to address the concerns
that I have and address the issues that I have and make a real change. But it's still you take
medication that you don't know 100% what it's going to do. You talk to your doctor and you know
they're telling you your fat's going to redistribute, your skin's going to get a little
softer, you're going to grow breasts or something, you know in the case of trans women specifically
as well. But you don't really know, and you don't know
what you're gonna look like after.
Yeah, I mean, that's such a, such a common scene too. I would imagine a lot of body horror
movies, like, well, The Substance is a perfect example in terms of take this thing and you
just don't know what's gonna happen after you drink it or after you consume it or whatever,
or go through this, this kind of procedure. Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm.
Now, there are body horror films that have a clear transgender theme,
like the Spanish film, The Skin I Live In. I'm going to give away spoilers here. In the film,
a surgeon holds a cisgender man captive and forces him to transition to a woman.
It's less of it being graphic visually
and more so of just like seeing the transition happen
as like this guy again is like strapped to a table
and just kind of forced to watch this all happen to him.
But the films that resonate with Lily on a deeper level
tend to be more metaphorical.
There is a French body horror film called Titane.
The main character, Alexia, is sexually attracted to cars.
Like at one point she has sex with a car and gets pregnant with a car.
Very hard to explain it without like seeing the movie.
But basically this whole time she's experiencing pregnancy and it's visually being shown as
like her body being ripped apart and like pieces of titanium starting to poke out.
Wow.
For me, it feels very much of a like, again, it's like this feeling of you know something
is off and it's bubbling to the surface and it's literally going to rip you apart if you
don't address it kind of a thing, which again for me is very much on my experience of being
trans felt.
Another aspect of these films that Lily likes is that very often the characters who experience
body horror are not sympathetic, at least not at first.
You know, Teton, one of the interesting things that they do is they make the character a
serial killer and like a pretty not great person.
And the skin I live in too, like I said, the main character that is going through all this
terrible stuff is like, he's a sexual assaulter, like he's committed like a terrible crime. But it's
interesting to watch these characters go through it, because it's almost like they build them
to be so terrible that then your way of sympathizing with them is so different than it would be
if these characters started as just blatantly sympathetic characters.
One of the things from Teton that I really liked, and this is a little bit less body
horror but it's adjacent, but it's something again coming up with trans stuff.
At one point she commits a crime that she can't get herself out of and she basically
has to go into hiding.
And in order to do that she kind of sees this random missing persons photo of a kid that
went missing like
I can't remember it's like 10-15 years or something before the story takes place and they show like an
aged-up version and she realizes she kind of looks like the guy. So she like goes into the bathroom,
shaves her hair, breaks her nose and everything and basically from that point on she is forced to live
as this character named Adrian. Adrian's father comes to find Adrian and sees
Alexia as Adrian and says, oh yeah that's definitely my kid aged up. One of the
things that happens is like she just won't talk to him at all and he
obviously perceives that as like his son rejecting him but she for her it's just
if she knows if she talks she's gonna give away her cover. Also like what is
she gonna say? And that is such a trans thing.
I will just say from my own experience, it took me years to be comfortable with my voice.
I would opt to not say anything more often than not.
I have literally been there.
I've been at stores when I was early in transitioning, and I was so scared to say anything
because I was like, oh, they're going to clock me immediately.
As I've been working on this episode,
I keep thinking about another subgenre.
It's not horror, it's actually the opposite end
of the sci-fi fantasy spectrum.
It's the idea that we can discard our bodies completely
and upload our brains to the cloud.
There's science fiction about this,
but there's also real research being done
on how to upload our consciousness to computers. I've come to realize the fact that this idea
appeals to me is a problem. Too often I think of myself as being only in my mind, as if my body
is just a mode of transportation. But it's not healthy to cut off either end of the mind-body connection.
As they say in the substance, you must respect the balance. Or so I've heard, I haven't watched the
movie...yet. That's it for this week. Thank you for listening. Special thanks to Chioki Ianssen,
David Huckvale, Xavier Aldana-Reyes, and Lily Andrick.
My assistant producer is Stephanie Billman.
We have another podcast called Between Imaginary Worlds.
It's a more casual chat show that's only available
to listeners who pledge on Patreon.
Last week, I talked with Lauren Gorn.
She co-hosts the podcast Lingthusiasm.
We discussed the use of hand gestures in sci-fi,
like the way Leonard Nimoy invented the Vulcan salute on the set of Star Trek.
What I find really interesting is there was nothing about a Vulcan salute in the original
script and that was something that Leonard Nimoy, when he stepped into the role of Spock, was just like, I just
feel silly standing here.
So you know, Vulcans aren't really known for their excessive body language, I think it's
fair to say.
But Nimoy was just like, it feels weird to just stand there and do absolutely nothing.
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