f you're a cute little kid, you can get away with anything
. . . almost. This story about a nine-year-old psychopath named
Emma (played by the astronomically talented Mckenna Grace) is ripe
for parody. This movie does that, but not intentionally. It also
raises some interesting scientific questions.
Yes, it's a six year old movie. Yes, it's only on Lifetime, the place that gives Chardonnay-sloshed cat ladies a steady diet of women-in-peril-from-murdering -men-and-sometimes-bad-cheerleaders-and-mothers-in-law-and -stepmothers movies. But it's entertaining.
The plot is simple: a little kid starts murdering people in imaginative ways. Her poor classmate, who after winning a medal inexplicably goes up on a cliff without noticing her sneaking up behind him . . . the babysitter, who figures it out and starts babbling to her about a pink electric chair . . . the teacher, who shows up with an accountant/lawyer to threaten them . . . .
The kid's father, evidently not the sharpest knife in the drawer, doesn't believe anything's really going on until he receives a police report about accelerants having been used on the babysitter case. Searching the Internet, he finds out that a harmful idea can be a “bad seed” that can take hold of a person.
That is a direct contradiction to the premise of the original movie, where “bad seed” was the theory in Hervey M Cleckley's 1941 book The Mask of Sanity: An Attempt to Clarify Some Issues About the So-Called Psychopathic Personality in which he argued that the psychopathic trait was a heritable defect in the person's ability to distinguish right from wrong. The characters in the original movie, supposedly psychiatrists, never mention Cleckley but it's clear that he was the source of inspiration for it.
Since then, the idea of a brain defect that impairs empathy has gained some currency, at least among psychiatrists, but there is as yet little evidence that it is inherited. It's understandable that the writers changed that point, as it dramatically conflicts with what we know about the brain.
One reason the theory is so unfashionable is that a manipulative parent would use this ‘mutant kid’ theory as an exculpatory factor to blame the child's bad behavior on the child's bad DNA, labeling the child as a “psychopath.” The child might then accept this characterization and grow up believing him- or herself to have a genetic flaw and thereby adopt psychopathic traits, believing them to be part of his or her true identity. The parent self-absolves to escape blame for being a shit parent, the kid's life is ruined, and the psychiatrists all get shiny new Beemers.
Another theory is that society creates and encourages the psychopathic trait. That may be why psychopaths often become politicians or bureaucrats. I observed this myself: I was once in the audience of a groundbreaking ceremony where some US senator addressed the crowd. The look on that guy was chilling: challenge me by not applauding enthusiastically enough, he seemed to be thinking, and you will face the consequences.
A third theory was proposed by Ed Dutton in his recent book Woke Eugenics. He says humans have stopped evolving and started accumulating mutations because of reductions in infant mortality. The reason ‘wokeism’ is so anti-natalist, Dutton hypothesizes, is that our genetic programming has an as-yet undiscovered feature that causes human populations to self-exterminate when the number of mutations they carry exceeds a certain threshold.
It's indisputable that the “woke,” or “the left,” or whatever the non-insulting term may be (if there is one), seem to have a death wish. Each of their beliefs evinces a preference for extinction: they celebrate homosexuality and trans ideology, which render people infertile. They celebrate abortion, which kills large numbers of their own offspring. They have massive confusion about sex, to such an extent they get the number of sexes wrong, and they use global warming as an excuse not to have children.
Dutton may have a point in saying ‘wokeism’ is self-limiting. However, the idea that evolution has screeched to a halt due to low infant mortality is not true. High infant mortality would only produce evolutionary change if different groups had different mortality rates. It doesn't protect the population from harmful mutations. If anything, it selects for new mutations, such as the gene that results in sickle cell anemia, which protects against malaria but adversely affects overall health. This doesn't necessarily mean Dutton's idea is wrong: there could be some other factor in our programming that triggers a reduction in fertility, but it's unlikely that there's something in there counting up mutations.
The genome was created by mutations. There are so many in each individual—an estimated ten million—that it doesn't even make sense to call them mutations; biologists call them SNPs [single nucleotide polymorphisms] instead. There is no way to decide whether an SNP is beneficial or not. Indeed, it's not up to humans to decide this; evolution works by numbers only. If a mutation increases the number of offspring, it increases ‘fitness’ in the Darwinian sense even if the mutation makes you dumber, sicker, and weaker.
As for why kids appear so cute, this too may be an evolutionary strategy: their goal is to ensure that the parents continue to provide them with nutrients instead of putting them on EBay, or whatever the caveman equivalent was.
Unfortunately for the writers, the ‘mutant kid’ theory was the key plot driver in the original movie, where the kid's mother believes that her own mother passed on a defective gene to her. She becomes hysterically distraught and grief-stricken, which makes the dramatic tension much higher than in this remake, where all the characters except Emma display flat affect. Surrounded by zombies who wallow in therapeutic psychobabble, it's no wonder the kid snaps and starts offing them.
The father takes the kid to a psychiatrist, who turns out to be none other than Patty McCormack, who played the psychopathic kid Rhoda in the original version. In that one, the kid was indomitably optimistic, utterly fearless, courageous, independent-minded, and resourceful, albeit with one tiny character flaw. Maybe, the viewer thinks, Rhoda didn't really die in the first movie, but grew up to become a successful criminal psychiatrist. She tells the kid she reminds her of herself when she was young and that she used to do things just like her. By the end of the session the two are laughing and joking and have bonded from their shared experience.
However, without the original motivation of a supposed genetic defect, the parent's actions from this point on are incomprehensible: if the parent was himself a psychopath, he'd just think the kid is a chip off the old block. If he wasn't, he'd still move heaven and earth to protect her. In either case, the idea of hurting an innocent (or somewhat innocent) kid, especially one's own, is almost unimaginable to any sensible person.
As befits the overall depressing theme in this movie, the kid is not as upbeat or optimistic as Rhoda was, but she evidently did inherit something from her parent, as she tries to blow up the house by turning on all four burners of their kitchen stove. Unfortunately, it's an electric stove, so she also has to open the damper valve on the fireplace. In order to make sense of that, we have to assume it's a gas valve on one of those fake propane fireplaces. Whatever it is, it doesn't work, and the parent decides to murder her.
Not realizing that psychopaths are supposedly unaffected by sleeping pills (as we're told in the original movie), this genius makes two mugs of hot chocolate, puts sleeping pills in one, sets them on the table next to her, and then, proving he has the IQ of a turnip, leaves the room and lies down and falls asleep. At this point, the viewer knows she'll just swap the mugs and concludes this guy deserves whatever happens to him.
But the kid wants to take no chances. She finds a revolver and shoots at him at point-blank range while he's sleeping, but misses. The bullet burns a hole in his pillow and wakes him up. The two start criticizing each other, but there's a problem: the sound pressure level (SPL) from a handgun is about 160 dBA. SPL is typically measured one meter from the source, and increases by six decibels as the distance is halved. Since it's indoors, reflections from the walls and ceiling would add at least six more dB. So at about 1½ feet away, we're talking a peak SPL of at least 172 decibels and both of them should now be stone deaf.
The parent then chases after his daughter with the firearm. She dials 911 on her cell phone, but by now the whole story is a mess and nothing makes sense anymore. Let's just say we finally get to see that little kid smile.
nov 20 2024
