Horror. It is considered one of the
oldest genres, and yet also one of the most underrated. Most likely
this is due to the simple fact that horror, as a genre, tends to pop
up the most in the exploitation scene of pictures, whether it be the
sort of things Roger Corman put out or the sorts of things one sees
on the SyFy channel while one is drunk at three in the morning,
likely due to the fact that gore and terrible CGI monsters tend to
procure more immediate returns than actually writing a decent script
(Though this author would argue that some Corman-produced movies are
actually pretty crackerjack, like Galaxy of Terror and Piranha).
But it's also perhaps due in large
part to society's vast lack of understanding as to what in the horror
genre attracts people. There have been vast backlashes from society
against horror, from the criticism of the 80s wave of slashers for
being misogynistic (Some of which was accurate, some of which wasn't)
to the British list of banned gore films known as the Video Nasties.
The sort of voyeuristic desire to look upon the darkness in horror
tends to be considered some sort of symptom of madness by The Very
Serious People who run society, to the point where famed horror
filmmaker David Cronenberg once said in disgust “Censors tend to do
only what psychotics do; they confuse reality with illusion.”.
But, as a fan of horror, with a
history with the history of the genre, this author has a personal hypothesis of the appeal of horror to
the masses, and that appeal is threefold.
First, he would say that
the fear, the legitimate, deep terror, is only part of the appeal,
and that there are two other parts one should consider in its appeal,
specifically the appeal of creativity and the appeal of broken
taboos. And he will explore his history with the genre to show this
with the power of critical analysis.
So, dear reader, we must start with
what is likely to be the least lengthy of the analyses, and it is speaking of horror as taboo.
Perhaps it is because this author has little experience with that
sub-genre that this genre that it is getting short shrift, but to be
fair, it also happens to get short shrift from the horror fandom in
general. The term “torture porn” has grown in vogue as of late to
describe this genre, including films such as “Hostel”, “Turistas”
and later entries in the “Saw” series that seek to shock and
disgust.
One argument could be that films like
this have always been around in one form or another, such as the
infamous American ending to “Snuff”, the first two films in the
“Guinea Pig” series, and the nigh-legendary “Cannibal
Holocaust”. But an article by Adam Lowenstein also argues that the
term should be more like Spectacle Horror. He also makes the case
that the films that the term was coined for, Turistas and Hostel,
also have a very dark satirical aspect to them, with “Hostel” in
particular being mentioned as a giant satire of American actions
overseas.
This is perhaps very similar to the themes many scholars
have read into Cannibal Holocaust, but that's another topic entirely.
But the genre should actually be
called taboo horror, for that is its appeal, the breaking of taboos.
Steven King says something similar when he talks about “go for the
gross out” in his landmark study of horror “Danse Macabre”.
And, as Lownstein mentions by bringing up the films “Execution of
Mary Queen of Scotts” and “Electrocution of an Elephant,” this
phenomenon goes all the way back to the dawn of cinema.
And King
mentioned that in horror films, the gross-out can sometimes reach a
point of art, which is what the films seem to be aiming for. He
mentions oneincedent in particular, a spider being mulched up by a
juicer in the film “The Giant Spider Invasion”, and there is a
moment of disgust when a woman drinks it. This spoke to him about the
frission touching the audience on a deeper level than these films'
paltry narratives can touch upon. But there's the argument about
something more being at work to be had.
It is the argument that it's not just a
connection at the gut, but a connection of the will, as an endurance
test for one's gut, to prove one's strength in the face of the
absurd, or perhaps their willingness to embrace it.
This ties in to well to another of
horror's icons HP Lovecraft, who has been called the JRR Tolkein of
horror literature for his deep yet awe-inspiring worldbuilding,
creator of the Cthulhu mythos and establisher of several of horror's
most iconic tropes, such as the concept of the apatetic monster god
who who could crush us like ants and not even give a crap (Call of
Cthulhu, The Dunwich Horror, The Haunter In The Dark), archetectual
geometry that defies rational explaination (Call of Cthulhu, Dreams
in the Witch House), and even the ancient astronauts trope that some
people actually believe in today (The Shadow Out Of Time, In The
Mountains of Madness). None of those people are actually non-idiots,
but still.
And yet, for such an innovator, the
man was also surprisingly conservative and averse to change. His work
brims and bubbles with cartoonish levels of racism, describing with
horror minorities and 'half-breeds” taking over, whether it be the
cultists of Cthulhu or the immigrants in The Horror At Red Hook, he
spoke with terror of the “debased hordes” slowly shambling to
breakdown all that “we” (that is to say, his own group of white
anglo-saxon protestants) hold dear.
And the geographer James Kneale, in
talking about the role of the crossing of boundaries in his work,
mentions a quote of his saying, “Change is the enemy of anything
really worth cherishing,” saying that all the innovation and
pioneering he did stemmed from his racism, the taboos he brought up
and shuddered over were the very thing that drove his creation. And
that is, perhaps, the secret to his appeal, that feeling of the taboo
and the violation of the boundaries of sane life that he captured
though his sheer white boy neuroticism.
Note that this is not an assertion
that Lovecraft's fanbase is racist. Indeed a large chunk of his
fanbase makes fun of this element of his work, including critic and
cartoonist Johnathan Wojcic (Who will be addressed later). But,
rather, it is an assertion that the breaking of taboos from which he
took his fear touched on something in the popular consciousness that
even he only half understood. And that is what fascinates people
about his work, taking all that humanity holds dear and revealing it
to be a lie we tell ourselves to keep ourselves from comprehending
the magnitude of infinity, even if they do not hold his morbid dread
of it.
Steven King in “Danse Macabre”
talks about how horror is an inherently conservative genre in “Danse
Macabre,” because it is almost always about an imbalance in the
natural order of things that needs to be solved. And while this
author would not take it that far, there certainly is some degree of
truth to that assertion.
And then that leads into the second
avenue of horror's appeal, the approach of fear. Steven King in the
“Danse Macabre” chapter “Radio and The Set of Reality” talks
about tension derived from imagination as a key factor for creating
fear, with a very memorable quote attributed to William F. Nolan.
It goes like this,albeit in a version
condensed for space: “You approach the door in the old, deserted
house, and you hear something scratching at it... The protagonist
throws it open, and there is a ten-foot-tall bug. The audience
screams, but this particular scream has an oddly relieved sound to
it. "A bug ten feet tall is pretty horrible," the audience
thinks, "but I can deal with a ten-foot-tall bug. I was afraid
it might be a hundred feet tall."
And while there are more factors to
fear than the use of tension, which will be gotten to later, this
explains perfectly one of the key advantages of found footage films,
which have exploded in popularity since The Blair Witch Project.
“Paranormal Activity” might be the go-to example for this, and
indeed this author loves that movie to death, but this report will
use the anthology film “V/H/S/2” as an example of the subgenre,
namely because of its extreme stylistic variety and also because this
author also loves it to death.
The film is extrememly disparate in
terms of subject matter and style, with the subjects of each story
ranging from space aliens to disturbing demon cults to zombies to
even some inklings of cosmic horror. But despite that variety, there
is one thing all of them have in common: the stare. Thanks to the
nature of the footage, they do not cut away to a different location,
they do not take you out of the danger, they just stare through the
camera's eye, always in the situation, always there.
And that's what
keeps the films consistently powerful, the fact that due to the
necessity of the format there is not even a moment of seeming
respite, and thus the tension that King's quote addresses. And on the
unknown that that tension leads up to, the film also works well with
this thanks to its format.
While at times found footage films
have been criticized for use of what some call “shakey cam,” it
is actually arguable that the deficiencies of the format can actually
add to that piece of the format the lack of seeing.
The lack of
professional lighting and a consistent view of the creature create
not only a disturbing sense of reality, but also a sense that the
events are actually occurring. This is most notable in Slumber Party
Alien Abduction, where the aliens are done in the image of the
classical “greys,” and the costumes are very simple. But under
the quickly moving camera and the dim natural lighting, it makes the
glimpses we do see of the costumes into something nightmarish,
distortions of the human form.
This does not just work in films, but
also in literature, as Lovecraft knew. One of the best examples of
this is, actually, Call of Cthulhu. For, while the description of the
titular creature speaks of the typical hybrid of human, dragon and
octopus, this is only actually ever used in-story to describe his
human-made depictions. The actual appearance of the And the
impossible architecture of Rylleh, the idea of which he uses in many,
many other stories, could not possibly be described in text, but the
insinuation that a person is essentially swallowed alive by its
impossible geometry says a lot about it in only a few words.
And then there is the second type of
nightmarish horror, the horror of the bizarre, the things that don't
make sense. It is something very much like the unknown, but less in
the context of the main plot, and more in the context of the larger
setting of the story. That is to say, it means even when we know what
the horror in the story is, it still leaves the reader with more
questions than answers, and leaves a feeling of weirdness. HP
Lovecraft captured this feeling very well in many of his stories,
most notably in The Colour Out of Space.
Said story involves a meteor made up
of impossible colors that crashes in the earth and then starts slowly
shrinking until it disappears. Afterwards, the people and vegetation
in the land start slowly getting warped and deformed, with that color
showing up more and more within them. And in the end, the colour
coalesces from all the life it has warped into one being and flies
off into space, while leaving a part of itself in the water supply.
While the area is about to be dammed for drinking water. And yes, the
disquieting implications of this are brought up.
The reader does not even know that the
thing is a living being until the end of the story, and even then
questions are raised about its nature and what will happen with what
it left behind. This is perhaps one of the reasons that Lovecraft
considered this his favorite story he wrote.
Even in his more conventional story
“The Whisperer In Darkness,” the story is still leading up to the
reveal of tentacle-headed unphotographable fungus-lobsters with a
base on Pluto who are putting human brains in jars and taking them to
space. And by the end of the story it is still
unrevealed what they're using the brains for.
And
that perhaps is what makes his mythos so intriguing, the repeated
hints of a far larger cosmology than is shown in the full text, but a
lack of revelation of what that is. Perhaps that is why the mythos
has been cheapened as of late, because too much of the material is
devoted to explaining it.
The
certainly is the perspective
of Johnathan Wojcic, a
cartoonist and critic who runs the website Bogleech, dedicated to all
things monstrous and morbid. He's held a short horror fiction contest
in both 2012 and 2013, and his largest piece of advice has always
been the same “Less explaination, more mystery”. And that
philosophy also shows up in his own work.
For
example, in the story of his own he put into the archives of the
contest, “The Five,” the protagonist talks about some vague
disaster that happened throughout, where people are repeating the
last five days of their life before the occurrence. And then, in the
end, we get what the disaster is with a single line: “Where,
exactly, did all the heads go?”.
And in
the sequel, we find that the answer to the question is that they're
all rolling to a single point, gathering in a formation that's
somehow significant to the narrator. But the appearance of the
formation is not explained. Just raising further questions.
And
he also continues this idea in his Mortasheen concept, a
worldbuilding project soon to become a tabletop roleplaying game,
which is much akin to a sci-fi/horror take on Pokemon with the tone
of the average Terry Pratchett novel. And yet, despite this tone, he
still manages to carry over horror's sense of mystery to the
creatures.
In
particular, a class (Mortasheen's equivalent to Pokemon's “types”)
known as “Unknowns” have this principle to a creature, with
beings having such anomalous properties as people being able to
remember the results of their actions, but never their actions
themselves (Longfellow), a being eternally covered in ever-shifting
holes as if moving through an
other-dimentional medium (Vorlune), a silicon-based being with
quadruple helix DNA that drains an unknown sort of energy from its
victims (Vaccuthax), and mineral beings that are not even technically
alive, but still act like they are (The Meteor series).
But
these themes can be seen all over the series, from the angelic
life-giving Oovule possibly being the ultimate evolution of the
Zombie type to the Devilbirds and the unknown forces they have tapped
into. And while the tone of the series is rather dark-comedy, this
creates a sense of horror underlying the whole thing, with things far
beyond the game's scope.
Even
a follower of his, Christopher Howard Wolf (Known by the online
handle Slimebeast), has most
of his many, many short horror stories end with no answers. Most of
his stories have incredibly ludicrous premises and twists, such as a
horrible mascot-posessing demon lurking under Disney property to an
ever growing flesh
Katamari to a bizarre mockery
of a “Stranger Danger” character who abducts children and makes
everybody forget them, or a
shut-in manchild who makes disturbing videos placing horrifying
content into normal programming.
But they are still powerful and disturbing because of the fact
there's no answer. In most of
them, there is no answer, there is no explanation behind the final
circumstance, just the faint feeling that there is just something
deeply wrong with the universe.
And
that is perhaps the reason why, out of all the short horror fiction
writers online, Mr. Wolf was known as one of the best.
Well, at least until people unauthorizedly using his stories for
their own profit drove him to quit. But
that's another rant.
And
that leads one to the final piece of horror fiction that attracts
those who read it: the creativity. It is likely the most attractive
piece of horror fandom for many people, due to the fact that a large
amount of horror is not all that scary.
Take
for example the horror movies profiled by the websites I-Mockery and
X-Entertainment, two of the earliest and longest-running websites (If
one counts X-Entertainment's spiritual successor by the same author
Dinosaur Dracula, which is practically the same anyway) profiling,
tributing and poking fun at “trash” culture of earlier years.
I-Mockery for example, has a yearly series of articles where they
take a look at the site's
self-proclaimed greatest horror movie moments.
If
one looks at these kills, one would note that they
are not particularly scary.
They are usually quite excessive, and while that may be disturbing
and tie into the earlier appeal of horror as taboo, that does not
mean that it is scary. But
what they all are is creative. From the death of a man by having a
voodoo-doll-ice-cream-bar in his likeness being eaten to a huge
rolling sphere of small, toothsome aliens to a man ripping himself
open like a sheet of paper, they all have a morbid inventiveness to
them.
Indeed,
it was X-Entertainment's profiles of the films “House” and “Dead
Alive” that convinced this author to see those films, and it was
those films that brought him into the fold of horror, namely because
those films sounded so incredibly strange. And that is also likely
why, out of all of King's works, this author likes Graveyard Shift
the best due to its collection of very
strange ideas still taken seriously by Mr. King, who shows no shame
towards his chosen genre.
It is
perhaps in the spirit of Danse Maccabre that tis aspect of horror
exists, a making of merriment with the knowledge of death. How
appropriate that that is Steven King's title for his affectionate
look at the genre