What is wrong with you?

Why a blog you say? I assume you say this with a Claire Foy as the Queen accent. I had a conversation recently with a dear friend. I was attempting to explain my passion for horror films and how it has grown over the years. On the verge of describing it as a hobby, I stopped myself. A hobby (at least by my standards) requires that you do something. Wine can be a hobby if you use it to learn and travel, maybe you even collect some. Watching movies is not a hobby unless the effort extends beyond sitting and watching the film. So here I am with this blog. 

“Why horror?” you say (Again, Claire Foy). My fascination with horror films is something I keep trying to backtrack on memory lane and it spirals down the rabbit hole. So instead of sharing first experiences with Tim Burton or Drew Barrymore acting through that wig, I will share a memory that isn’t mine, but I have a theory the experience was imprinted on my self conscious. When I was a wee baby, my dad and sisters were out of town for the evening, leaving  my mom home alone with me. Her friends called her and asked if they could come over and watch Silence of the Lambs. Do what you will with this part of the story, it sounds random to me as well. My mom likes horror movies enough and agreed. Her friends, Pam (I only know the name of one of these friends, so they’re all Pam now) bring over the VHS and sit back as Anthony Hopkins mutters disturbing meal plans that aren’t offered on Hello Fresh and Jodie Foster battles a staring contest with the camera lens. The movie ends and Pams are like, “peace out, we’re going home to our families and not to be alone in our homes!” My mom is like, “Pam. No way, you can’t leave me here alone with a baby who isn’t old enough to fight cannibals,” but alas, they leave her there. In the night. In the dark. This experience traumatized my mother. She let me rent pretty much whatever horror movie I felt like watching growing up, but if I held a tape of Silence of the Lambs, her eyes would go all Clarice Starling on me and she would refuse. I eventually watched it with a friend in high school and even when I was a legal adult, she scolded me for having watched it, assuming I would never recover from this experience. This story illuminates how personal horror films are. Almost everyone has at least one film that messed them up a little. Chances are, you told someone about this film and they mocked you saying something like “that movie wasn’t even scary, I actually thought it was funny, it was so horribly unscary and you’re stupid for being afraid of it, you fucking idiot twerp dumbass.” Watching horror films has many parallels to porn. Your experience watching it is very personal to you and has a lot to do with your current circumstances whilst watching it. Watching it with someone else will highly alter the experience. You had a reaction to it that you can’t begin to explain or justify. Horror is personal. Even if the movie sucks, it might still scare the shit out of you. For instance, the 90s remake of The Haunting made me lose sleep for weeks. I even knew it was a trash film as I was watching it, but my ten year old self was terrified of closing my eyes in fear of seeing Hugh Craine’s portrait on the inside of my eyelids. Part of growing into an appreciator of horror films was discovering that I didn’t need to explain why I was scared or feel ashamed if I was the only one shivering. In addition, many movies don’t scare me even though they may leave the majority of watchers petrified. I do my best to extend understanding to them and recognize their experience, even if it isn’t my own. 

People have a tendency to be aggressive about their dislike of horror films. I respect the notion of being too scared. To me, that’s showing respect to the genre. What I can’t deal with is people who start the “They’re not scary! I actually find them funny. I’m not scared, GOT IT?!” These people remind me of guys who really need to let everyone know they’re not gay. The constant reminders make you eventually start to think “You know what? You might be gay after all. I didn’t think you were, but your incessant, slightly panicked declarations have me thinking otherwise.” I usually assume that people in the “They’re funny” camp are actually the most terrified. They constantly make jokes at viewing parties and make the most noise during the tense scenes. It’s hard not to think, “If you are really so unafraid, why can’t you control your fucking mouth?” In addition, some people just think horror is an inferior genre and I have no patience for that either, not because I love horror, but because I don’t think any genre should be written off. To exclude a genre entirely from the conversation on quality films is a grave oversight that frankly demonstrates that you haven’t taken the time to really explore their films. It just sounds lazy.  

Why people would voluntarily endure a horrific experience can be mystifying. In Sharon Begley’s Daily Beast article, “Why Our Brains Love Horror Movies: Fear, Catharsis, a Sense of Doom” (you’re not getting MLA citations from me, but you should at least know where I get this stuff), she outlines a few of the basic theories as to why people watch horror. The first is simple: adrenaline to remedy a boring life. Being scared is like being on a roller coaster, we get all these endorphins and shit and feel all giggly afterwards. This theory explains why teenagers are often the target audience of scary movies, their parents keep them safe in the nest, away from adult concerns. I will call bullshit on this first theory. I have worked with high schoolers who love horror movies and have been brave enough to endure life struggles that would leave me quaking in my boots. Since when is being a teenager not scary? It’s terrifying. I spent most of my adolescence afraid of my own sexuality and teenagers are constantly coping with having to make adult decisions when their minds, beliefs, aspirations, etc. are still very much in progress. For these reasons, I don’t buy the theory that people who like horror movies lead charmed, calm lives. I lean toward the second two theories. One essentially states the opposite: horror films as escapism. Scary movies create a wonderful distraction. As challenges and complications of life build, it can be refreshing to simplify and only worry about survival from a maniac with a knife. By the end of a great horror movie, you’re laughing with your friends and feel relief during this temporary escapism. But how would this apply to films like Stepford Wives, Get Out, or Hereditary? These films illuminate darkness in our lives and personify emotional and societal demons. This issue brings up to the third theory: horror films as catharsis. We harbor dark emotions and fears and it’s healthy to explore them as opposed to letting them fester. For instance, by addressing systemic racism from complicit white, liberals, Get Out started a much-needed conversation and allowed people who have suffered to release these emotions and feel recognized. Horror is a brave genre. It not only experiments with form, technique, plot structure, etc., it also delves into issues that most movies are too scared to address. Another example would be Alien creating an allegory for sexual assault and abortion…you know, if I start listing examples of allegorical horror, it will be the majority of this post. Allegorical horror will be another day. Get ready to be Babashook when that day arrives. I’ll wrap this point up by stating that horror creates a vessel for our real life fears and emotions to be recognized and explored. Perhaps this is the actual reason teenagers are drawn to the genre as they dissect meaning in this world and prepare for the terrors ahead. 

So that’s why I love this genre and just can’t help but type out some of these thoughts. Hope you join me on this journey!