What is horror is a question with which I often struggle. Growing up, I never watched a lot of horror movies, mostly because my parents were smart and didn't allow me to do so. As I got older, I started looking into some of the classics and began to build up an appreciation for the genre. Eventually, I discovered that there was more to horror than I had ever believed. Within this section of storytelling, I found stories of humanity, tragedy, and the fragility of our own consciousness. Yet, when I look around at the horror landscape, especially in recent years, I seldom if ever see a whole lot of movies that reflect the better qualities of the genre. What's more, at least in my opinion, it's giving genuine horror a bad name.
Like any other genre of film or literature, there are many different branches commonly known as sub-genres. Stories that fall into not only a specific category but also a particular segment of said category. Example: a drama that happens to focus on the romantic exploits of the main characters is described as a "romantic drama" or "dramatic romance." A comedy that happens to follow two dueling police officers is characterized as "buddy-cop comedy." Horror is no stranger to sub-genres ranging from the fantastical and supernatural to the uber-realistic and gritty. These days, horror cinema is mostly associated (unfairly in my opinion) with gore, horrific violence, and cheap jump scares that do nothing but hurt your ears and annoy you to the point of aggravation. Speaking personally, I appreciate and enjoy horror when it's in the most creative and sophisticated way possible. Because anyone can don a cheap costume, cover it in fake blood, and scream "BOO" to an audience, but it takes genuine effort and talent to create something tense yet fascinating. So, allow me to share my feelings on what makes real horror.
In my opinion, genuine horror can best be described in a single word, uncertainty. To me, real fear does not come from how much blood you can splatter all over the screen, or how many monsters you can fit inside the frame, and especially not how many times you can jumpscare the audience before they find it obnoxiously dull. It comes from how effectively the story can make the audience question what they just witnessed. Horror is one of the few genres where ambiguity is key to a successful presentation, especially when you consider how much most screenwriters and Hollywood producers don't like the very idea of uncertainty. Many mainstream and big-budget horror films and shows fail miserably not because they're gross and lazy, although that is a big part of it, it's because they're too cowardly to take risks with leaving unanswered aspects of the story. Sure, specific sub-genres of horror films like slasher killers and vampires don't require any ambiguity, but that's because they are not real horror movies, at least not to me. Instead, they are, as the term "sub-genre" should imply, rogue splinter cells of the genuine article. They're not horror but share enough similarities to the genre that they often come off as such. While you can make the argument that this explanation can apply to just about any other style of fiction, in my opinion, horror is the one that seems to have suffered the most from this lack of distinction.
Perhaps one of the best examples for my position on horror is the film Oculus by Mike Flanagan. Released in 2014, the story revolves around an elegant, and supposedly haunted, antique mirror. Legend claims that those who have possessed the mirror have fallen victim to madness prompting acts of violence upon others and themselves. In the story proper, we follow two siblings whos partners were the last owners of the mirror. One of them is determined to prove that the mirror is evil and has been the cause of their personal tragedy, while the other remains skeptical, offering perfectly logical explanations for any mysterious circumstances associated with the mirror. Throughout the entire film, every single possibility is explored and examined, but never fully clarified. Meaning every single action on screen could be attributed to someone's unbalanced mental state or a supernatural entity. Both conclusions are possible yet inadmissible all at once. Thereby creating an experience that causes you to question the events depicted on screen continually. In other words, ambiguity in action.
In comparison, take a look at the film Saw — specifically the first one and none of the sequels (we'll get to those later). For the record, I find the first film to be okay. It succeeds in being a character-driven thriller and provides a unique take (to put it mildly) on the human condition. Most notably, the dangers of self-destruction and the importance of embracing life. Now, with that said, I am not a fan of the series as a whole, nor do I consider this franchise to be a real horror story. Because even though the first movie at least tried to delve deeper into a more psychological and emotional narrative, it's still trashy blood & guts exploitation unable to escape itself. In all fairness, the first film was better purely because of how much it didn't show but rather implied, which in-and-of-itself is commendable, but that gets immediately overshadowed when you realize that all of the sequels that followed flat out abandoned all of that in favor of standard torture porn. Leaving the audience with no genuine impact other than how gross it all was. Each and every sequel was only interested in upping the ante with more gore and less character, not to mention coming up with more elaborate ways to mutilate the human body. Needless to say, this isn't horror.
This comparison best describes the real distinction which has gone overlooked for far too long. That of horror vs. shock value. Both Oculus and Saw are categorized as "horror," but I argue that only one of them actually is such while the other is a shlocky shock & gorefest. Guess which one it is?
You see, there's a reason why movies like Saw and its sequels, as well as any other film of the same bloody nature, dominate the horror landscape when they shouldn't, they're easy to sell. Films that challenge the mind and take the time to build atmosphere and narrative intrigue are difficult to pitch to a producer, but elaborate blood & guts movies easily marketed to teenagers sell like Hotcakes. For the most part, studios these days are terrified (ironically) to produce films only intended for adults, unless it's designed for Oscar bait. As a result, most of what tries to pass as horror these days are just jumpscare riddled haunted mansion roller coaster simulators meant to yank as much money out of teenagers with too much disposable income as possible. Meanwhile, the actual horror films with compelling narratives and genuine talent behind them are left in the dust for no adequate reason, other than the teenagers whining about the lack of monsters and/or gore. If you need an example, look no further than this movie.
The Babadook is one of my favorite horror films of all time. Because it is the perfect embodiment of what makes the genre so universal and intriguing to me. The story follows a widowed mother trying to take care of her young son while dealing with the trauma of her husband's death. One night while in her sleep-deprived state, she reads a mysterious pop-up book to her son called The Babadook, the story of a strange creature that lives in your mind. As the film progresses, it becomes clear that The Babadook is the manifestation of trauma and the anger & fear that can stem from it. The visuals and plot points throughout the film serve as a metaphorical event in which the mother comes to terms with her loss and finds the strength to move on. The Babadook is a prime example of horror filmmaking as it showcases the power of metaphorical storytelling and how to best utilize physical embodiments of internal struggles. Despite becoming one of the most successful and beloved horror films in recent memory, many people who initially saw it became incredibly disappointed. Criticizing it for not having any actual monsters and coming off as a major letdown. Needless to say, they all completely missed the point of the film.
The best horror films, at least to me, are the ones that explore human nature, especially its flaws. Films like Oculus and The Babadook forces us to question our reality and take a deep dive into our own inner self. They challenge us to embrace the parts of ourselves we find too terrifying to even acknowledge. Because by embracing the parts of ourselves we overlook, we can better discover and embody our true selves. Real horror films encourage you to face your own fears in one way or another. This is the real power of horror. This is what I look for in this particular genre, and why I believe it must be rescued from misconception.
If you're interested in other perspectives on horror, check out these videos from the online show Extra Credits. The show that examines and comments on video games and how they impact people.
I hope you found this examination of horror intriguing. Be you a veteran fan of the genre, or a casual admirer, or someone who doesn't understand what all the fuss is about, I hope this has enriched your perception on the subject in some way.
Ladies & gentelmen, I am TheNorm, thank you all for reading.
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