The Horror...

Like the creeping shadows cast by the fall's waning sunlight, Halloween will soon be upon us. For those of us here at This Cinematic Life, 'tis a season like no other. While many children eagerly await Christmas morning and all the goodies under the tree from that jolly, obese elf, we can hardly wait to hang the cobwebs while watching our vast collections of seasonally appropriate movies. Hell, I’m listening to Danny Elfman’s score to Nightbreed as I write this piece!

Oh how I revel in any chance to watch films like The Cabinet of Doctor Caligari and Something Wicked This Way Comes while the leaves outside drift from the trees in a silent cascade of red, orange and yellow. There’s no better time of year to enjoy Bubba Ho-Tep, all four Phantasm movies, and Re-Animator — all in the same day. Yet growing up, my family would never dream of sitting down and watching the original Texas Chainsaw Massacre or Halloween. They’re just not those kind of movie viewers. And yet, on the weekends with my friends, I soaked up all manner of scary films like a pop culture sponge.

Over time, I found something undeniably exciting and intriguing about the horror genre as a whole. Aside from possessing a deep love for the macabre, I noticed that there was always something almost primordial woven throughout each nightmare-inducing frame of a good scary movie. Bela Lugosi, as portrayed by Martin Landau in Tim Burton’s 1994 film Ed Wood, makes the argument that for women, “The pure horror, it both repels, and attracts them, because in their collective unconsciousness, they have the agony of childbirth. The blood. The blood is horror.” I’d argue that this actually applies to everyone, male or female. Many scientists now believe that the reason we get mildly queasy and uncomfortable when presented with a photo of someone horribly mutilated or an exposed human brain, is that our minds are wired to know that what we are seeing is not meant to be seen normally. Normally, such things are hidden within the body and tucked away in darkness, never to be seen by human eyes. Also, we like symmetry and a definite lack of it throws us off; makes us take a second look. Is it any wonder so many movie monsters lack the pleasant symmetry that draws us to other humans? We are repelled by the grotesque, and horror filmmakers know this.

In the Joe Dante film Matinee, John Goodman’s William Castle-inspired character talks about how the first form of the horror genre was cave paintings by frightened cavemen, exaggerated because they knew people would one day see their drawings. Woolsey reasons that those primitive artists figured why not make them bigger and scarier; thus, you have the very first horror film. It was real life filmmakers like Castle who really opened the doors to me when it came to horror movies. Castle’s movies were never subtle; they were fun. Upon their first theatrical run, his films contained all sorts of campy and engaging effects, like floating skeletons in the theater and buzzers in the seats to help draw the audience into the films. It brought horror to the fans in a fun and safe way.

To me, that’s why I enjoy a good horror movie, that sense of fear and dread you feel for a couple of hours is contained and safe. While I am less a fan of modern slasher movies or shock films such as Human Centipede, I do enjoy scary movies that feature some sort of depth and creativity behind them. Perfect examples of this are Sam Raimi’s Evil Dead Trilogy (yes I’m including Army of Darkness in there), Re-Animator, and my all-time favorite, Don Coscarelli’s Phantasm Quadrilogy. The Phantasm movies never cease to impress and excite me with their fun scares as well as their highly imaginative plots and characters. While there are films I know I’ll never watch since I can only handle so much graphic violence, but some of the best horror films have some of the most fun violence. We all know about the incredible and overly bloody death of Johnny Depp in the original A Nightmare on Elm Street, and revel in the many ways Jason has offed countless teens in the Friday the 13th franchise.

In Halloween when Michael Myers runs a kitchen knife through a guy, pinning him to the wall, the logical part of me knows that a simple kitchen knife could in no way pass through muscle, ribs, and spine so easily. But that is what makes it fun. It isn’t real. It’s a safe horror. The actors were fine and the death on film is dramatic and exciting.

Then there are the hidden meanings laced throughout horror movies. Carrie is so chock full of symbolism and meaning, it instantly becomes re-watchable. George Romero’s classic and iconic Night of the Living Dead is simply swimming in commentary on 1960s race-relations. Likewise, The Shining speaks on multiple levels and is layered with copious amounts of interpretations. It always intrigued me that the story is essentially a struggle between Jack, a man of the written word, and Danny, a child with an imagination. And by the end of the film, Jack is reduced to cries of anguish and anger that come off as nothing more than unintelligible, animalistic screams.

Horror films are good at reminding us of our most basic fears and uncertainties; they allow us to glimpse the horrors we once imagined in the darkness beyond the campfires. Our imaginations run rampant. All in all, the best aspect of a good, scary movie is the fact that it is by its very nature designed to be enjoyed with others. It’s great enough when a good scary movie leaves an impression with you; it’s even better when your friends and fellow viewers are on the same page, squirming with the same anticipation and revulsion.

All that being said, it would appear that the hour is growing late and so I have no choice but to wish you all a happy Halloween, kids and cadets. Be safe out there while trick-or-treating, and don’t fret: that masked man standing perfectly still at the end of the street glaring at you isn’t waiting for his kids, he’s waiting for you.

-Colin

(the Devourer of Worlds)