In the face of our ennui, how ought we cope?

As the week dawned, I eagerly anticipated diving deeper into the captivating writings of Julius Evola. However, fate had a different plan in store for me. A literary storm brewed within as I devoured the pages of "Revolt Against the Modern World," transforming my very perspective. Meanwhile, the looming specter of an impending test hovered above me, reminding me of the delicate balance I needed to maintain. Determined not to tip the scales of my sanity, I made a conscious decision to embrace a lighter, more joyful subject this week. And so, I decided to do a retrospective analysis of the 1978 comedy "National Lampoon's Animal House."

Although I acknowledge that "Animal House" falls under the genre of comedy, it would be unwise to dismiss its impact or how it reflects the collective psyche of the people it portrays. Taking place in the year 1962, this cinematic work stands on the precipice of the cultural revolution that unfolded throughout the 1960s and 1970s, follows World War II, the advent of civil rights legislation, and the resounding echoes of the baby boom. The central characters of this tale, whom I hesitate to label as mere "protagonists," find themselves deeply entwined within these transformative events and serve as a direct byproduct of them.

The two characters initially introduced to us are Kent and Larry, who aspire to join the esteemed fraternity house of Omega Theta Pi at Faber College. The creators of "Animal House," whether consciously or unwittingly, have masterfully crafted the audience’s interpretation of these characters. They introduce the Omegas in an intentionally deplorable manner, catering to the expectations of the audience experiencing the film for the first time. Once Kent and Larry cross paths with Doug and Greg, the main characters of Omega House, the latter decides to include them among a group of individuals perceived as undesirable. This diverse assembly consists of a seemingly disabled Jewish individual, a man of Southeast Asian heritage, and a Black man sporting a turban, all of whom underscore the intended message. Right from the outset, the creators of "Animal House" proclaim that these individuals are the antagonists; Omega represents the antagonistic force.

Moments later, we are introduced to the Delta Tau Chis fraternity through Kent, whose brother holds a legacy. Our initial encounter with the Deltas comes in the form of Bluto, portrayed by the legendary John Belushi, simultaneously clutching a malt liquor in one hand while relieving himself in front of the fraternity's house. Nonchalantly turning to face Kent and Larry, with the stream still flowing, he proceeds to drench Kent's shoes in a golden shower. Having "welcomed" Kent and Larry in this unconventional manner, Bluto proceeds to extend an invitation for them to enter the chaotic realm of the Deltas' abode, providing us with our second glimpse into their world. Their residence is excessively disheveled, adorned with what appears to be patches of mold, and glasses soar haphazardly through the air. The house epitomizes pandemonium and disorder, yet the film conveys that at least they are not narrow-minded bigots. Through the introduction of Robert Hoover, affectionately known as Hoover, who seeks to acquaint Kent and Larry with the fraternity's leaders, we are introduced to Eric and Donald, who is better known as "Otter." Otter is a lackadaisical and immature man in a romantic relationship with Katy while Eric is an obvious hedonist, likening extramarital affairs to a profoundly spiritual encounter. Even within these early scenes, it becomes apparent that Otter resists the call to grow up, not even for his girlfriend Katy, who subtly drops hints that she desires more than a frat houseboy who revels in intoxication and revelry with his companions.

The central plot of the film is set into motion by the dean of Faber College, Dean Wormer, who embodies the archetype of a ruthless tyrant, willing to exploit any emergency situation to his advantage. Determined to eliminate the Deltas, he enlists the aid of Greg Marmalard – the Omega we meet at the film’s beginning. Within the grand administrative building of Faber, adorned with Ionic columns, Wormer and Greg conspire to uncover any possible misconduct committed by the Deltas. The die is cast: it becomes a clash between racist authoritarians and the amoral, hedonistic Dionysians.

In one of the rare scenes depicting the young men in their academic setting, we are introduced to Donald Sutherland's character, who portrays a literature professor at the college. He engages his students with a discussion on John Milton's "Paradise Lost." As he bites into an Apple, Sutherland concludes his lecture around the character of Satan. Provocatively, he poses a thought-provoking question to his audience, which extends implicitly to the viewers of the film: "Was Milton suggesting that being bad is more fun than being good?" This pivotal inquiry establishes the tone for the rest of the film. The intention is not for us to perceive the Deltas as heroes, nor should the audience find any particular admiration, if any at all, for the Omegas. Rather, we are encouraged to derive enjoyment and pleasure from the film, to unwind and relinquish our inhibitions. It is meant to be a recreational pursuit, and we are not expected to approach it with undue seriousness; after all, it is just a comedy... or is it?

Once again, I believe this film has the potential to provide us with valuable insights into the perspectives of its creators, its audience, and the individuals who continue to embrace it. It is my contention that "Animal House" should not be perceived solely as a cinematic production, but rather as a work that implicitly makes value judgments about the world in which it is set and the people and culture it seeks to portray. In a later scene featuring Donald Sutherland's character, we find him engaged in conversation with Katy, Otter, and Larry within what appears to be his residence. As they converse, he extends an invitation for them to partake in some marijuana, an offer which they all – although with some reservations – accept. Subsequently, he pulls down the window shades, and they proceed with their chosen activity. In this instance, the consumption of the “apple” symbolizes the main characters' and audience's surrender of moral boundaries.

Throughout the film, the characters of Delta House consistently engage in degrading acts toward their own bodies or toward others, reducing them to mere objects and subjects of degradation. Their disregard for animal life is evident when they trap a horse in Dean Wormer's office, resulting in its accidental death due to a heart attack. Bluto, in a gluttonous display, gorges himself with food and spews it at his fellow students and the Omegas, inciting a food fight. Additionally, there is a recurring theme of the objectification and degradation of the feminine form. The female body is treated as a source of entertainment for the male gaze. While such scenes may initially hold a certain allure, viewing them through the perspective of Bluto, whose character is truly repugnant and repulsive, renders the female body - even in its playful presentation - utterly diminished and devalued. It becomes a spectacle, devoid of its inherent beauty, and transformed into visual fodder for the audience to consume, much like the burger Bluto devoured in the cafeteria. In this process, the profound sensuality and wonder of these women's bodies are lost, reduced to mere slop for the audience's visual indulgence.

Undoubtedly, a comprehensive analysis of "Animal House" would be incomplete without examining the iconic toga party scene. This particular sequence, perhaps more than any other in the film, encapsulates the pulsating heartbeat that runs throughout "Animal House." The performance of "Shout" by Otis Day and the Knights captures the repetitive, rhythmic, and reciprocal expression of uninhibited delight and hedonistic paroxysms that defines the essence of the film. At this moment, we witness a collective surrender to the present as the deltas immerse themselves in every passing second, indulging in whatever surrounds them and provides pleasure - be it drugs, violence, or sex. Bluto, in particular, serves as a perfect embodiment of the film's spirit. He is impulsive, repulsive, hedonistic, and destructive - a true Dionysian figure from the Bronze Age, reveling in a bacchanalia destined to reach its climax. Eric, too, partially embodies this archetype. He is a man who pushes sexual boundaries to the extreme, even going so far as to invite the dean's wife to engage in sexual intercourse at the deltas’ house. Like Bluto, he is a character who pushes his indulgences to the furthest limits.

The toga scene is followed by the Deltas' stance against the administration that’s determined to suppress them. The presence of the Mayor's daughter at the Deltas' toga party forces him to pressure the dean into holding a hearing to address their misconduct. Faced with multiple charges, including knowingly violating recruitment rules by providing alcohol to pledges, displaying abysmal academic performance, and engaging in morally reprehensible behavior (which the dean will not even discuss), the Deltas find themselves ill-prepared to defend their actions. Hoover attempts to verbally manipulate the administrative board but fails to do so. His childish response of "I don't think it's fair" reflects the Deltas' belief that they should not be held accountable. They refuse to comply with conduct rules, neglect their academic responsibilities, and disregard any sense of morality. The members of Delta House collectively resist the charges through hissing, hollering, and disruptive behavior, resembling a chaotic force challenging a traditional hierarchy painted in the worst light possible. Eric's final attempt to defend Delta House by erroneously equating their condemnation with the condemnation of America reflects his and the house’s utterly unreasonable behavior. In response, Delta House storms out of the hearing, solidifying its rebellious stance.

Upon returning to Delta House, the fraternity members are dismayed to discover that their belongings are being confiscated. While some items may have been stolen, it appears that the school administrators indiscriminately seize the majority, if not all, of their property. Seeking respite from the stress caused by this incident, several Deltas decide to travel to Emily Dickinson College using Kent's brother's car. Kent, Larry, Otter, and Eric embark on this journey with the intention of meeting girls and visiting a bar where Otis is performing. Once at Emily Dickenson College, Eric employs emotional manipulation and deception by pretending to be the deceased boyfriend of a girl who died in a pottery kiln explosion. Through deceit, he convinces the deceased girl's roommate to accompany them along with other girls. They end up at a bar where they feel out of place, likely due to the racial dynamics of the time, as the White college boys are visibly intimidated by the presence of Black men who threateningly ask to dance with their girlfriends. Eventually, either due to their own fears or the boys' intimidation, the deltas hastily leave the bar. Before departing, Eric is caught making out with the distressed roommate of the deceased girl. The boys hastily start the car, speed away from the bar's parking lot, and return to the school.

Upon Kent's return to the school, he displays noticeable distress regarding the entire situation and the condition of his car. Observing his anguish, Bluto attempts to uplift his spirits by embracing his role as the clown. In contrast, Eric's remark, "You f****ked up. You trusted us... Maybe we can help you," defines the deltas' character. The contradictory nature of these two statements highlights the inherent absurdity that unfolds throughout the film. The boys exhibit an inability to take themselves seriously, showcasing immaturity, immorality, destructiveness, hedonism, violence, and a lack of intelligence. They resort to lies, disregard basic rules, and willingly engage in theft when it suits their interests. Clearly, they are not individuals deserving of our support. However, due to the film's reliance on the psychological technique of anchoring through its intentional comparison of the Deltas to the Omegas, characterized as uptight, unemotional, anhedonic, inept with women, and apparently racist, many Americans who have been exposed to the film tend to sympathize with the Deltas.

Following the boys’ night out, despite making multiple unsuccessful attempts to reach Katy, Otter decides to visit her house, only to discover her in bed with another man: Donald Sutherland, the literature professor. This moment carries a poignant irony. Sutherland's character, who earlier discussed Milton's "Paradise Lost" and challenged the audience's moral perspective by sharing marijuana with some of his students, now embodies the mature, fatherly figure that Katy is evidently seeking. Effectively, Katy betrays her relationship with Otter, who is characteristically immature. Overwhelmed by the emotional blow, Otter retreats to the remnants of Delta House.

With Eric and Otter absent, Kent, Larry, Bluto, and another character named D-Day visit the Dean's office to receive their grade notifications. Unsurprisingly, their GPA turns out to be abysmal. Consequently, Dean Wormer decides to expel them and notifies the local draft office about their eligibility for military service. Taking all factors into consideration, despite their evident lack of intelligence, military service might actually be beneficial for these boys. Nonetheless, they do not take this news lightly and return to their residence. While there, they uncover Katy's betrayal of Otter and also learn that the Omegas orchestrated an attack on Eric. When questioned about his assailants, Eric responds with the following line, "Some of the Hitler youth... they're just animals, I guess." It turns out Eric had been flirting with and engaging in activities with Greg Marmalard's girlfriend, despite Greg’s obvious sexual and emotional indifference towards her. Upon hearing this news, Bluto attempts to rally the Deltas in a manner similar to Eric's democratic approach. Despite their reservations, they collectively settle on a "futile and stupid gesture": a plan to seek revenge against Dean Wormer and Omega House during the Faber parade.

The entire retaliatory assault is a scene of utter chaos. Floats are ripped apart, the crowd descends into complete disorder, and Bluto and D-Day intentionally crash into the stands where Dean Wormer is seated, causing their destruction in the process. In essence, Delta House engages in an act of terrorism simply because they were displeased with the consequences of their actions. They perceive their punishment as "unfair." The fact that many people perceive these individuals as antiheroes, rather than recognizing them as amoral characters who fail to acknowledge their own flaws demonstrates the remarkable influence of the psychological anchoring technique deployed at the film’s outset.

Throughout the entire film, we are bombarded with imagery that attempts to portray Omegas as reprehensible, power-hungry authoritarians, while presenting the Deltas as carefree, playful hedonists. The film establishes this stark dichotomy and unfolds itself accordingly, all the while echoing Southerland's line: "Was Milton trying to tell us that being bad was more fun than being good?" Well, were the creators of “Animal House” aiming to convey that being wicked is more enjoyable than being 'good,' particularly if being 'good' entails resembling a member of the "Hitler Youth," displaying apathy towards women's advances, or being so uptight that one fails to grasp the humor and essence of having fun? Undeniably, under such circumstances, indulging in misbehavior may seem more appealing. However, being bad also entails lying, lacking moral principles, engaging in deceit, theft, possessing a lack of education and intelligence, substance abuse, and an inability to maintain meaningful relationships.

It is astonishing that the Boomer generation regards this film as a comedy. What precisely is its intended societal message, if any? Does it even seek to convey a message? The film's tone emanates a sense of disillusionment toward post-World War II American culture. The characters disdain rules, structure, authority, and hierarchy, perceiving them as stifling, which explains their inclination to critique them. If any value judgments are expressed in this film, it is that hierarchy, structure, order, authority, and academic pursuits are not as glorious as they are portrayed to be. To a certain extent, this perspective holds some truth, but what alternative does the film offer in the Omegas' place? The Deltas.

The film cunningly exposes the hedonistic and Dionysian excesses that were rampant within the boomer generation, deliberately catering to an audience that embraced such debauchery. The Deltas, embodying the more defiant contingent of the boomers, displayed an alarming lack of self-reflection, willfully ignoring the logical and rational fallacies they perpetuated. Even in the face of an unwavering authoritarian structure that dismissed their viewpoints due to their intellectual deficiencies, they persisted in their reckless pursuit of sensual gratification, leaving a trail of repugnance and tarnishing the inherent beauty that once adorned the world. Perhaps the calculated degradation of conventional beauty by the film's creators reflects their conviction that traditional standards of beauty were nothing more than deceptive façades designed to sustain conformity, apathy, and ignorance. Through their subversion of beauty, the film audaciously proclaims, "Beauty is a superficial and shallow pursuit." Is this truly the essence of beauty that we should accept? Must we view the delicate and feminine form through such a distorted and morally bankrupt lens? These reflections serve as damning indictments of the boomer generation's moral decay and societal erosion.

I accept that "Animal House" is predominantly categorized as a comedy, but its impact extends far beyond mere amusement. This film boldly challenges the entrenched ethical framework cherished by traditionalists, while simultaneously indulging the desires of hedonists. The absence of an alternative moral perspective only serves to reinforce a troubling tendency within the audience – a historical inclination to align more closely with the demonic, hedonic, and self-destructive Deltas, while disregarding any virtues in the Omegas. Confronted with two morally bankrupt options, the audience willingly embraced the path of immediate pleasure, reflecting the broader societal inclination towards instant gratification. Yet, let us pause to contemplate the ramifications of this choice. What has it yielded for us? A society besieged by rampant addiction, alarmingly low marriage and reproductive rates, a distressing surge in deaths caused by hopelessness, and a pervasive wave of community violence driven by vengeful motives. Similar to the actor who portrayed one of the film's most iconic characters, John Belushi, America finds itself gradually unraveling as it relentlessly pursues hedonistic pleasures. In light of these stark realities, should we truly derive amusement from such a dire state of affairs?