A Long Torrid Love Affair
If one accepts the importance of storytellers in a culture—their role in shaping the dynamics of society, molding behavior, and influencing how we interact with one another—then we’re in trouble.
A couple of weeks ago, I caught RED on TV. It was a double feature showing alongside RED 2. Have you seen them? They’re entertaining, the kind of movies that make you laugh but don’t stick with you. RED stands for "Retired, Extremely Dangerous." Bruce Willis, Morgan Freeman, and John Malkovich play retired CIA agents caught up in the fallout from a past mission. They’re aided by Helen Mirren, a retired MI6 operative. I honestly can’t even recall the mission that dragged them back into action. It should matter, but it doesn’t. What sticks out instead is how much these characters bemoan the passing of days when they don’t get to kill someone. It’s a comedy, so I laughed along. I was entertained. And later, I reflected… this was essentially a convening of serial killers.
From RED 2, the iconic shot of Helen Mirren in a car with Lee Byung-Hun comes to mind. She’s simultaneously aiming guns out of the passenger and driver’s side windows. It’s killing as art, a beautiful testament to America’s long, torrid love affair with violence. We express our adoration for the kill in music, television, literature, and video games.
And it made me wonder—is the NRA and GOP Congress the sole reason we cannot slow or stop the gun epidemic in this country? Or have storytellers also played a significant role? Maybe we need to stop making guns and the people who wield them so desirable. While I don’t think the GOP is the driver, they could agree to work with Democrats to stop this careening train.
Storytellers
Storytellers have created this addiction. They’ve shown us over and over again that power, heroism, and coolness are often measured by the ability to kill with efficiency, style, and a certain detached wit. It’s a message that’s deeply embedded in the fabric of entertainment. Think of how many action movies, thrillers, or even comedies you’ve watched where the protagonist’s ability to kill makes them admirable. Violence is portrayed not as a tragedy but as a skill—something to aspire to. Killing is framed as problem-solving, often without consequence or reflection.
This doesn’t let institutions like the NRA or lawmakers who block sensible gun reform off the hook, but it does point to a broader cultural issue. If we continually consume stories that glorify violence, that normalize the idea of the gun as a solution, we’re complicit in perpetuating a culture where violence feels not just normal but necessary.
So how do we break this cycle? The change has to start with the storytellers. They are the ones who set the tone, who decide what narratives are worth telling and what values those stories uphold. They could choose to step away from the easy thrill of gunfire and explore other sources of conflict and resolution. They could create heroes who solve problems through ingenuity, compassion, or perseverance rather than brute force. They could show the consequences of violence, its ripple effects, and the human cost—not in a preachy way but as a natural part of the story.
Changing the Story
This isn’t about censoring violence or policing creativity. It’s about reimagining what makes a story compelling. Conflict doesn’t have to mean violence. Heroism doesn’t have to involve killing. Storytellers have the power to shape what we crave in entertainment. They’ve fed us this addiction, and they can help us unlearn it, too.
The question is: will they? Or will the allure of the quick thrill, the big explosion, and the gun-toting antihero continue to dominate our cultural landscape? Until storytellers take responsibility for the narratives they’re crafting and the values they’re reinforcing, we’ll remain stuck in this cycle.
We all need to reckon with the stories we consume and the values they promote. If storytellers won’t challenge their narratives, then we as the audience must demand better—better stories, better heroes, and a better reflection of what we can aspire to be as a society.
Images by Craiyon

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