Watching Horror Movies When the World Is a Horror Movie
I’ve always been a true blue cinemaniac, whether it’s James Cameron, Fellini, Altman, Bunuel, Peckinpah, or The Marx Brothers. But for years, horror was always my go-to. Whenever I’d have a screening spot to fill—horror. Whenever I’d turn in for the night—horror. Whenever I needed something to throw on in the background—horror. Whenever I’d have friends over—horror.
This went on for years until 2011 when the Syrian Civil War broke out. In the years that followed, I became active in spreading awareness for the ungodly humanitarian crisis that emerged. The images that came out of this conflict were terrifying and heartbreaking. Over 600,000 lives, including scores of women and children, were lost. I always prided myself on being someone who stayed up on world events and didn’t reside solely in the filmmaking bubble, but this affected me in ways other global conflicts and catastrophes hadn’t.
A switch was flipped and I was never the same. I put on a horror movie one night out of habit, but the thrill was gone. It was then that I realized what a privilege it was to watch and enjoy horror movies. To have the intellectual luxury to watch people being hacked to pieces on screen while in real life people were being butchered by even greater monsters. Once this kind of awareness seeps into your bones, it’s impossible to shake, and it can corrode your enjoyment of activities you once looked forward to. This is often followed by a deeper appreciation for what you have and the pettiness of certain things becomes unbearable to you. Is arguing about the pros and cons of a female Pinhead with strangers online really the best use of your time and attention given all the atrocities and injustices occurring in the world?
I’ve spoken to several colleagues and friends over the years who have expressed a similar turning point regarding their consumption of horror films. Though they may not have had an exact ‘moment’ as I had, they reported feeling increasingly uncomfortable watching people being tortured, raped, and slaughtered while so many in the world endured similar fates on a daily basis. Like myself, their love for the genre did not diminish, but we saw these movies through a different lens. We still enjoy them and look forward to new ones, but the context within which we watch them has changed, and our screening lineup is peppered with more non-horror content.
Some have said it’s a sign of maturity or growing up, but I don’t believe that’s necessarily the case. There are certainly folks who watch more horror movies than I do and are far more mature than me. I think many factors come into play, the least of which is how different people can compartmentalize what they’re watching. I know many who are very up on geo-political events and watch horror movies nonstop. But, I do believe most seek refuge in these films to insulate themselves from the outside world.
On that note, horror fans have more in common with other fandoms like Star Wars or Marvel than they would care to admit. Whether consciously or subconsciously, they’re immersing themselves in a fantasy world of movies, merchandise, conventions, YouTubers, and celebrity gossip 24/7 as a way to cope with an out-of-control world and to provide themselves with a stability that is lacking in their lives.
This is a scene where it’s not only taboo to discuss politics but it’s taboo to talk about world events of any kind. Those that do are often ostracized. And let’s face it: whether it’s climate change, child abuse, human trafficking, the housing crisis, or the latest holy war, the world today sucks for any number of reasons. I’d love to be able to go back to those high school days of horror movies, hot pizza, and sleeping bags on the basement floor. But it’s not gonna happen and those days weren’t all that better, either. We were just blissfully unaware of the atrocities happening in the world.
We were also unaware that many of these films and filmmakers were trying to teach us lessons about those atrocities. This is an uncomfortable conversation for horror fans as many prefer their icons in the industry to be old school, un-pc, and apolitical. So, while John Carpenter (Halloween, The Thing, The Fog) might be very outspoken regarding the evils of capitalism and racism, and has cited Syria’s Bashar al-Assad on more than one occasion as an example of a real monster we should be afraid of, you’ll rarely see those quotes pulled for social media posts.
Many still believe in the narrative that horror fans are a small, oppressed minority and they’re rebelling by watching these movies. The truth is that horror has gone mainstream for a long time now. There’s no longer a mass dismissal from critics or the general public. It was three generations ago that watching horror movies was a pushback against your conservative parents.
For my generation, before Dawn of the Dead and Suspiria were household names, that was certainly part of the allure. You were sticking it to The Man when you had your friends over to watch Return of the Living Dead and Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2 instead of lining up to see Jurassic Park like the plebes. But that dichotomy no longer exists. It doesn’t exist for the audiences or the filmmakers. Try as they may, recreating that 70s and 80s feel is an exercise in futility because the societal construct needed to complete the experience is missing. Making shocking horror movies is no longer a strike against the status quo no matter how you slice it (see what I did there?). The kind of stuff we would wait till our parents went to bed before watching is now featured every week on commercial TV courtesy of The Walking Dead.
The mystery surrounding older horror movies, once experienced by previous generations, has also been considerably weakened. While the work the boutique labels have done in restoring and remastering these movies is nothing short of jaw-dropping, and they certainly deserve all the respect in the world, they have also demystified these films, removing that element of the unknown that used to entice us in bygone video store aisles.
This cottage industry has also given birth to cliques of boorish gatekeepers, and quasi-intellectual fringe cinema critics, some with much to say and some with nothing to say, just lots of it. They backstab and bicker over these releases, but as the bombs drop and more and more people can’t afford to put food on the table to feed their families, does sweating and fretting over the next ‘definitive’ release of Lucio Fulci’s The Beyond make sense? And I say this as someone who openly bemoans Leprechaun 4 and The Night God Screamed for having not yet received the box set treatment.
The endless stream of memes on social media has also diluted once-potent horror films and iconic characters. And while it’s at times refreshing there’s little reference to world events or politics, the detachment from reality becomes more eerie with each passing year. But I won’t lie: I went through a Jason Vorhees meme period myself.
Thankfully, fresh talent and fresh films provide a welcome counterbalance to the nostalgia mining and pining that hogs up a lot of the horror space. They often produce films that are a bit less tone-deaf and reflect an awareness of the world around them. But that shouldn’t be a prerequisite for enjoying horror films. The variety the genre contains is one of its strong suits. There’s something for whatever mood you might be in and for every kind of fan. The ability or inability to enjoy these films the same way as the world becomes more horrifying with each passing month lies within the individual.
Ultimately, no amount of darkness in the world will ever force me to turn my back on the genre. I make horror films of different shapes and sizes and will continue to do so. I spent the better part of the year developing a legacy horror sequel and I occasionally produce PSAs that address the real horrors in the world. Every October, I still go all in, screening older horror films I’ve missed, newer films I need to get caught up on, and a couple of choice revisits. It’s still one of my favorite times of the year for watching movies.
This article was not written to convince those who live and breathe horror films to change their viewing habits and binge-watch climate change and income inequality documentaries to get a better understanding of the evil that lurks behind every corner of the planet. Far from it. This is an affirmation for those unable to shut out the horrors of the world and feel it weighing upon them and are at times conflicted about what they’re watching. You’re not alone.
As our society shrugs its shoulders at another school mass shooting and rolls its eyes at the cascade of human suffering and unrepentant violence engulfing the Middle East and Eastern Europe, it’s hard to not want to crawl back into those sleeping bags with a hot slice of pizza and watch Bruce Campbell crack one-liners while dispatching the evil dead. But hiding from reality in any form of media reflects a more troubling psychosis than anything ping-ponging around in Norman Bates’ head.
Damian K. Lahey is an award-winning independent filmmaker and screenwriter. His last feature, the critically acclaimed Simple Like Silver, which saw the return of Cristina Marsillach (Dario Argento’s Opera) after 25 years away from the screen, was recently released by Severin Films and can be ordered by contacting them at orders@severinfilms.com. It is also available on Amazon Prime.
Categorized:Editorials
