Do movies cause vicarious trauma?
the impact of certain movies on our mental health
TRIGGER WARNING AHEAD
Saliva floods my mouth as my throat tightens and my stomach churns in revulsion. My breath shortens, my eyes water, and I bite my lip. Tension restricts my body. I am in the swamp with Atreyu. The pounding of my heart echoes in my ears. I want to scream. I want to cry. And I am powerless to save Artax.
At least once a week, an article pops up on my newsfeed about movies that traumatize specific generations. You know, those movies that seem to live rent-free in your head, the ones that, if you think too long about them, can invoke overwhelming sensations and emotions.
Some of these films marked our first or most fundamental experience of grief and fear or stirred our natural empathy and survival drive. The scene above from The NeverEnding Story still makes me tear up just writing about it. Or when the main character in The Last Unicorn sacrifices herself to save the other imprisoned unicorns—that scene fills me with a deep, profound sadness. Then there’s Sadako in the Japanese version (or Samara in the American version) of The Ring, climbing out of the television set. I remember feeling so creeped out by my TV for a long time, half-expecting her to crawl out at any moment. That unsettling fear stayed with me long after I watched the movie.
This is the power of movies: A few moments of cinematic storytelling can tap into our rawest feelings, forging a bond that outlasts the brief time we sit in the theater or press “Play” on a remote. Scenes like these become emotional touchstones, symbolizing sadness, grief, or fear. These profound emotional experiences can stay with us, impacting our worldview, experiences, and understanding. So, how do we deal with those movies that linger in our minds long after we’ve watched them?
What Is Trauma?
As a Licensed Counselor and Somatic Practitioner, I have extensive training in understanding trauma; not only that, it’s a massive part of the work I do with people; I support them in healing their traumas.
First, it’s essential to understand what trauma is and is not. Remember, trauma varies from person to person, and what traumatizes me might not traumatize you; several variables influence our experiences of trauma.
Often, I hear people say a movie has “traumatized” them, usually meaning that the film provoked an emotional, mental, or somatic response outside of the person’s norm.
According to the American Psychological Association, trauma is “an emotional response to a terrible event such as an accident, crime, natural disaster, or physical or emotional abuse, neglect, experiencing or witnessing violence, the death of a loved one, war, and more. Immediately after the event, shock and denial are typical. In the longer term, reactions can include unpredictable emotions, flashbacks, strained relationships, and even physical symptoms such as headaches or nausea.”
As a licensed counselor who specializes in trauma, I prefer Peter Levine’s definition, which states that trauma occurs “when something happens too fast, too much, or too soon,” causing our bodies to believe we are in danger and triggering a flight, fight, or freeze response.1 Some experts have also added “too little” to this definition (e.g., insufficient support or resources), which I, too, see in my work.
Too fast occurs when something happens so quickly that the person doesn’t have time to process or respond, such as during attacks or accidents.
Too much refers to an overwhelming intensity of experience, such as severe physical pain, emotional distress, or intense sensory input (e.g., loud sounds).
Too soon describes a situation in which a person is unprepared or unable to handle what happens—like facing a crisis immediately after another crisis or experiencing painful events in childhood before developing coping skills.
Too little involves the absence of necessary support or resources needed to cope with a situation—for instance, too little care, attention, safety, connection, or time to heal.
Not all of these factors must be present for an experience to be traumatic; however, it is common for more than one to overlap. For example, in The NeverEnding Story, Atreyu’s trauma could be considered “too fast, too much, and too soon.” In The Last Unicorn, the main character’s trauma might exemplify “too much and too little.” Meanwhile, Sadako’s trauma in The Ring demonstrates “too much and too little.”
When we watch films, we witness someone’s experiences—someone we have become emotionally invested in. This investment can cause us to vicariously feel what the characters do, especially as children, when the lines between reality and imagination blur.
Vicarious trauma is often used to describe the experiences of people who support others through their trauma, such as therapists, doctors, and emergency professionals. It is defined as “the accumulating effect of being exposed to someone else’s trauma, trauma that you have not personally experienced but have learned about from others.” However, movies can mimic that process on a smaller scale: we see enough of a character’s grief, fear, or pain that it feels like our own.
Our Developmental Years
Understanding how children experience movies requires recognizing that their social, emotional, and cognitive abilities evolve with age.
Erik Erikson (19502) proposes distinct psychosocial stages for children, each highlighting a core question. From birth to 18 months, infants grapple with Trust vs. Mistrust, wondering if the world is safe. Loud, startling noises in a film can quickly undermine that sense of security. From 18 months to 3 years, toddlers in the Autonomy vs. Shame and Doubt stage seek independence; an overtly punitive or dangerous scene might feel overwhelming to them. Ages 3 to 5 (Initiative vs. Guilt) bring out a child’s desire for purpose and exploration, yet horrifying creatures or themes of abandonment can lead to nightmares. Moving into 5 to 12 years (Industry vs. Inferiority), children begin wanting to prove competence; they can follow more complex storylines but remain sensitive to realistic violence or social distress. Finally, in adolescence (around 12 to 18), the stage of Identity vs. Role Confusion can make teens curious about mature or complex plots, yet extremely graphic or sexually violent content can still overwhelm them, triggering confusion or fear about their emerging identity.
Jean Piaget’s (19523) theory of cognitive development adds another dimension:
In the Sensorimotor Stage (birth to 2 years), infants rely on direct experiences with their senses and actions, startled by sudden loud noises or abrupt visual changes.
In the Preoperational Stage (2 to 7 years), children are egocentric (only see their perspective) and exhibit animism, giving life to inanimate objects. Scenes with magical beasts or menacing forces can feel “real.”
Around 7 years old, children enter the Concrete Operational Stage, thinking more logically and distinguishing fiction from reality. They may handle fantasy better but remain vulnerable to realistic depictions of violence or injustice.
Finally, in adolescence, Piaget’s Formal Operational Stage allows abstract thinking. Teens might enjoy complex storylines but can be disturbed by intensely graphic or emotionally fraught scenes if they haven’t developed robust coping strategies (Piaget, 1952).
We can see how what we watch can profoundly impact us during our developmental stages. When we watch movies like The Neverending Story, The Last Unicorn, or The Ring, we can see how they stay with us.
Films and Trauma Activations
Movies, especially the good ones, are designed to elicit a response, whether an emotional tug of empathy or a jolt of fear tapping into our survival drive. This is where mirror neuron theory provides an intriguing explanation4. These neural circuits, originally observed in primates, fire when we perform an action and see others performing it. By extension, we “feel” aspects of what we observe, be it joy, pain, or terror. This can foster compassion and bonding yet also risk overwhelming emotional regulation if the content is too intense5. Viewers with a personal history of trauma are especially prone to heightened physiological activation. If a movie’s scenario echoes their lived experiences, it can reignite memories or flashbacks, intensifying a cycle of re-traumatization6.
A movie’s realism and personal relevance can massively shape one’s reaction. Hyper-realistic war films, for example, might provide historical insight for one viewer while triggering panic in another who has lived through comparable trauma7. Meanwhile, horror movies leverage tension, jump scares, and dark themes, activating our fight-or-flight response.
Final Thoughts
Not all adults will experience severe trauma responses from films. Factors like personal resilience, social support, and coping strategies can diminish negative impacts. Selective viewing, knowing your triggers, and avoiding graphic content can help if you’re prone to anxiety or flashbacks. Critical viewing, reminding yourself that what you see on-screen is scripted, can also temper emotional overload, though it’s not a cure-all. I’ve learned that talking about it afterward, either with friends, family, or a therapist, can help process lingering dread or sadness. This “debriefing” allows the brain to integrate intense experiences safely.
Ultimately, while films can be captivating or even cathartic, we shouldn’t underestimate their emotional power. A single, brilliantly filmed scene can evoke empathetic resonance, jumpstart our survival instincts, or reactivate old wounds. A child in the Preoperational Stage might interpret a terrifying monster as utterly real; a teen grappling with identity might find a horror film both thrilling and deeply unsettling. Even as adults, we carry these experiences forward, sometimes re-encountering them decades later with a fresh wave of emotion.
Movies can be more than mere entertainment. They can become part of our emotional tapestry, triggering tears, tightening chests, or fueling nightmares. But with self-awareness, a sound support system, and healthy coping tools, we can also harness their power to learn, heal, and connect on deeper levels.
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Levine, P. A. (1997). Waking the Tiger: Healing Trauma. North Atlantic Books.
Erikson, E. H. (1950). Childhood and Society. W. W. Norton.
Piaget, J. (1952). The Origins of Intelligence in Children. International Universities Press.
Gallese, V., Keysers, C., & Rizzolatti, G. (2004). A unifying view of the basis of social cognition. Trends in Cognitive Sciences, 8(9), 396–403. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.tics.2004.07.002
LeDoux, J. (1996). The Emotional Brain: The Mysterious Underpinnings of Emotional Life. Simon & Schuster
Riggs, D. S., Murdock, T., & Walsh, W. (1992). A prospective examination of post-traumatic stress disorder in rape victims. Journal of Traumatic Stress, 5(3), 455–475. https://doi.org/10.1007/BF00977239
van der Kolk, B. (2014). The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma. Viking.
Anderson, C. A., & Bushman, B. J. (2002). The effects of media violence on society. Science, 295(5564), 2377–2379. https://doi.org/10.1126/science.1070765
For me personally, I have found quite the opposite. Watching some horror movies have allowed me to deal with my own fears, insecurities and mental and emotional health issues. Depending on the movie, I often get some comfort in following the protagonist survive or overcome whatever horror they are experiencing. This would also depend if the protagonist is relatable and likeable to me.