In light of the American Dark Knight Rises shooting and the release of graphic-violence movies such as Django Unchained, the question of media violence has resurfaced once again. But issues of when violence is too much violence have moved away from the silver screen to the little screen – opening up an arena of domesticity previously harboured from the extreme sadism that seems to define modern movie culture.

More than 630 viewers complained over a scene in an episode of Silent Witness, broadcast at 9pm on 22 April 2012. The scene in question is one which I remember vividly as, for one who is not disgusted easily, I was pretty repulsed. It presented a prison officer emerging from a grimy toilet block with a bloodied stick and a pool of blood next to a dead body on the floor. Yes, the full extent of the attack was shielded by the toilet door but viewers were left in no doubt as to the act of extreme violence that was taking place – especially since this was a flashback and only minutes before a picture of a ‘sodomised corpse’ had flitted on the screen. We were forced to use our imagination, as darkly humorous as that sounds.

Such controversy was also seen in that infamous Spooks episode when leading character, Helen, was killed off after having her head plunged into a deep fat fryer. Although the actual incident was, again, never explicitly seen the audience did see the character have her hand pushed towards the bubbling oil in the fryer; seen with a burnt arm, she then had her head pushed towards the boiling liquid. More than 100 viewers complained at this, but the executive producer argued that “a clear warning was made before the programme that there would be scenes which some viewers may find disturbing."

The provocative nature of these TV shows, then, brings into question a whole host of moral and ethical values. These particularly sadistic examples of violence pushed the boundaries of director integrity and viewer tolerance proving that the desire to be entertaining, or even sensational, in modern television can come at the cost of shocking or disgusting the viewer. So what is entertaining? Because, for a show which consistently hits 6 million viewers, to have less than 1% complain must show something about the state of entertainment. Why is this so different from A Game of Thrones? A series noted for its extreme violence but so deliberately fictionalised and fantasised. Or, what about Kubrick’s X-rated cult hit A Clockwork Orange? Or the controversial Tarantino, who has become the poster-boy for graphic violence?

It seems that violence has always been a part of our media culture. It has always been used as ‘entertainment’. It taps in to some innate need to be disgusted; to question human relationships; to witness the division between good and evil. The director, then, must respond to these popular, and artistic, values. Test the boundaries of our imagination. Violence permeates every aspect of the media – from music videos, to fantasy series, to the big screen. Some are more radical than others (Hostel and The Human Centipede) but the intrinsic value, and issue, remains the same: the fascination with repulsion.

Of course, the watershed is there for a reason – to protect, to shelter – just as age certificates are placed on movies. But popular culture thrives to push these boundaries. Why? Is it because we are so immune to ‘normal’ violence that it is no longer entertaining? Indeed, directors must entice the audience to keep viewing ratings up. And violence sells. Yes, television has, up until recently, been decidedly distinct from this; indeed, there is something homely and domesticated about watching something on TV, in the comfort of your own home. No matter how gritty the subject, it has the detachment of being watched in familiar, comforting surroundings. But now, television has joined the leagues of provocation.

This, surely, must show something for the state of entertainment.