As moviegoers are discovering, today's crop of monsters -- from the multi-million dollar dinosaurs of Jurassic Park to the aliens of Independence Day -- are bloodless and boring. Where is King Kong when we need him? PNS commentator Patrick Macias edits Arcadia Magazine (http://www.arcadiamag.com), an on-line zine that reviews Japanese monster videos, among other topics. Macias is a founding editor of YO! (Youth Outlook), a newspaper by and about young people published by Pacific News Service.

I was raised by monsters. Bathed in cathode rays or huddled in darkened cinemas, I grew up hooked on horror and fantastic films of every variety. King Kong, Frankenstein, and the Invisible Man have been my best friends. Godzilla, in all his chaotic city-stomping glory, became my role model. My long-term relationship with the creatures of the night has given me a vocation: several times a year I am asked to lecture on the history of Japanese movie monsters.

Yet I find the current crop of monsters -- particularly those inhabiting this summer's movie screens -- bloodless and boring. The aliens of "Independence Day" are no match for the space invaders from "War of the Worlds". The computer generated star of "Dragonheart" can't hold a candle to the stop-motion animated dragon from "The 7th Voyage of Sinbad." Too slick and without enduring qualities, modern monsters are verging on the meaningless.

All the truly great movie monsters -- Frankenstein, King Kong, the Creature from the Black Lagoon, for example -- exhibit human desires that are thwarted and denied. When Kong, the Beast, reaches out to his Beauty, only to be shot down from his perch on the Empire State Building, it is tragic and compelling. Compare the aliens of "Independence Day," who can only utter "die," to Dracula's declaration: "To die, to really be dead, that must be glorious."

The way today's monsters are made is another problem. The computer-generated and multi-million dollar dinosaurs of "Jurassic Park" may be revolutionary; but Godzilla, who was created with low-budget resourcefulness and pure imagination, will outlast them all. Computer graphics have a glossy, polished texture that brings to mind expensive TV commercials. Yet audiences clamor for more, dismissing everything else as fake-looking. Now the Big G himself may soon submit to the temptation of computer graphics. The American Godzilla film now in the works promises a high-tech makeover for the former man-in-a-suit monster.

Re-making monsters can certainly lessen their impact. Just look what happened to Quasimodo, the Hunchback of Notre Dame. What is Disney's animated, musical version compared to Lon Chaney's heartbreaking performance in the 1923 film version? Making the grotesque cuddly may be good for selling toys and other tie-ins, but it eliminates the possibility for compelling creatures.

So why does the world need monsters that matter? Because the human imagination needs exercise to stay healthy, and grappling with the weird and horrible offers a terrific work out. Stephen King (whose monsters I wholeheartedly endorse) has said, "Things can prove, by their very darkness, to be an enlightening experience." From great monsters, I've learned that death is not to be feared (Dracula), violent and anti-social instincts must be kept at bay (Frankenstein), and chaos is always waiting to manifest itself (Godzilla). Modern monsters offer no such knowledge.

However I'm confident that with the passing of time, monsters will return to their former glory. As long as we have light, we will always have darkness, and the darkness of a movie theater is where monsters dwell.