Uncanny Valley

Cats, Horror and Realism

J. Y. Gao

As we near the third anniversary of the release of Cats (the film), which cast revered actors, such as the likes of Idris Elba and Dame Judi Dench as shiny, hairy, cat-figurines, there isn’t a better time to discuss realism, uncomfortable movies, and a little bit about our psychology. This article is going to centre around visual representation and so before we explore the subject the title refers to; I might just add a couple more images to your mental gallery. Besides a disturbing portrait of James Corden’s face under a layer of soft, white fur, perhaps I could add Kodomoroid, a Japanese humanoid robot (see below), Lebron James from the new 2k23, and CGI-scorpion-Dwayne Johnson. Let’s group these images into a corner and we’ll come back to them.

Consider these characters – Group 2: C3PO, Elsa (Frozen), Lightning Mcqueen, Snow White, your stuffed teddy bear.

And finally, Group 3: Jabba the Hutt, a stick figure, industrial robot, Robby the Robot (see below)

If I were to ask you to rank these three groups according to your trust towards them, you would probably place group 2 at the top of your list. Yet interestingly, you might conclude, group 2 does not top the list in its human-likeness nor its human un-likeness. Perhaps group 2 sits in a Goldi-locks-type zone where the balance between the two feels right, like a normal distribution graph. But then, alas, you remember REAL humans peek at the human-likeness chart and you remember the fellow humans you entrust your life with. And so, if Group 3 feels too unfamiliar to approach, and Group 1 feels deeply uncomfortable, Group 2 feels fantastic. Yet real people are the ones you are really going to love, so what is the pattern that we are looking for?

The Uncanny Valley is a valley into which many artists fall. It’s also a mechanism composers utilise to create horror. Famous, human-like horror figures include Pennywise, Annabelle, the Nun, Regan MacNeil, Ghostface – these characters subvert our expectations by turning a familiar concept into something juxtaposing. Note that these concepts don’t necessarily have to relate to physical likeness to the human form; Ghostface, for example, plays off the familiarity of a common children’s Halloween costume and stabs us in the side with its insidious intentions. The horror smile (see below) is a staple of the horror genre not only because of its slight inconsistencies with a genuine smile but also because it subverts what a smile means. 

It is obvious that the Uncanny Valley exists visually, yet so much of its application is seen in the conceptual. Here, real-life applications also hold. Fighting parents are notoriously unhealthy for a witnessing child as their foundational values of trust, love and care suddenly become violent and aggressive. Slight changes in the positioning of furniture – not a full redecoration – will cause us to be on edge. When reality is held in question, it is an automated physiological response to withdraw trust, and heighten awareness (increase suspicion, doubt and stress), the body does this to protect our emotional well-being. The mind is aware that a betrayal of trust (in people, objects and reality) will lead to great internal suffering, and thus prepares itself immediately, after a hint of inconsistency, into a state of unease. The more concrete a belief is, the more significant the ramifications of the destruction of that belief. 

The Uncanny Valley is used for many things and entraps many things, yet perhaps its most important message is how far firmly we must plant ourselves on either peak of the uncanny valley for fear of the great danger it holds (as we see in Cats’ IMDb and Rotten Tomatoes rating).