Is torture making a comeback? Or did it never really go away?
Temporarily forgetting the horrors of recent true life, what is it about torture on the silver screen that seems to fascinate people? You can divide it into 2 types I think. There's the sadistic torture of a lot of horror movies. No rhyme or reason except for the torturers own gratification. And then there's the trying to get people to talk.
Several iconic scenes in movies are etched into popular culture with their ability to scare the crap out of us by just watching someone else be induced to talk aginst their will.
Everyone knows a famous torture scene. The bit in Marathon Man where Dustin gets an improptu dental check up. The scene in Casino Royale where Daniel ruins a perfectly good chair. And, of course, the bit in Mama Mia just after the opening credits where the whole cast says and sings stuff until just before the closing credits.
People love historic torture. Castle dungeons, the spanish inquisition, witch trials...etc. It's all worryingly popular
And now of course it seems not a month goes by without word of some atrocity.
So, have you ever wondered how you would fare if someone wanted to make you talk? Would you laugh in a manly way, a la Daniel Craig? Would you remain stoic and silent? Or would you spill everything as soon as possible? What do you think you could withstand?
I know my worst torture. It happened to me. Someone wanted me to talk and I cracked under the pressure. Want to know what horrors happened to me to make such a man of steel (yes...I mean me!) prattle on like a...prattling thing?
Uncomfortable silences.
Yup...that's it...I am a wuss. And my Social Worker picked up on this like a terrier on a rodent. She would ask a question. I would give what I thought was an adequate answer. And she would just look at me...and wait....silently......and I would start to sweat....and then I would snap and talk some more...and some more...and some more. Even when my wife was giving me that raised eyebrow 'if you don't shut the f#*k up I'm going to garotte you with a used teatowel' look I carried on talking.
Eventually the SW would look at her watch, flip her pad shut and cheerily wave us goodbye till the next time while I lay weakly on the sofa like half a freshly squeezed orange. No pulp.
How long could I survive the weekly sessions? Not very long at this rate,
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