I wasn’t a horror kid. I liked a bit of spooky and I enjoyed monsters, but it took me a while to really grow into the genre. I remember specific TV commercials for horror movies really freaking me out. One of the Hellraiser films, a Phantasm, Poltergeist III, a Nightmare on Elm Street, and very specifically, Child’s Play. The trailer for Child’s Play really got to me to such an extent that I took my beloved talking Alf doll (Hey, no problem!), tied him up, put him in a sack, tied the sack with ropes, put it in another sack, taped it up, and then put it in a box with books on top of it. I mean, I didn’t really think it would come to life and kill me, but why take chances, right?
These days, it takes so much more to get me to falsely imprison a childhood toy. I’ve grown to love horror and I’ve seen a lot, and as a result, it’s harder and harder to actually get scared. There are probably only a handful of films since I became a fan that have really rattled me, giving me that delicious tremble, leaving me in a new state. But I keep looking.
Elric Kane, the co-host of the Colors of the Dark podcast, of which I’m a regular listener, often terms this ‘chasing the dragon,’ drug lingo referencing the “elusive pursuit of a high equal to the user’s first in the use of a drug, which after acclimation is no longer achievable.”
And maybe it isn’t achievable. Maybe I’ve built up a tolerance. Maybe I’ll never again feel the way I did after the first time I watched Black Christmas (1974) when I felt compelled to lock the doors to my apartment, turn on all the lights, and check that there were no surprises hiding in any closets or under any beds (mind you, I was in my 20s when I saw it – what some might generously term an ‘adult’).
So does that mean that I’m doomed to be disappointed by everything I see from here on out? I don’t think so. I think there are different ways to appreciate a horror film, different ways to love one. Herein, I plan to present a few with some examples.
The Elusive Deep Scare
This is the above mentioned classic scary movie experience. A film takes you in completely and keeps you in a heightened state for the duration, such that when complete, it stays with you, and for some time at least, you inhabit the ‘real world’ differently. And really, this is what I always want from Art. I want the art experience to change me, even if temporarily, to leave me in a different place, looking with different eyes, at least for some time.
Most examples that come to mind are classics from early in my Horror fandom. After watching Candyman for the first time, I really needed to pee, but that sure wasn’t going to happen any time soon. I wasn’t willing to go near the bathroom until at least an hour later (after watching an episode of 24).
There was one episode of Twin Peaks. No idea which episode it was, but I remember I had been watching it on dvd on my laptop while lying in bed getting drowsy, and there was this sequence when Bob climbed over a sofa and started approaching the camera and, especially in my half-awake state, it really felt like he was coming directly at me. This was helped by the persistent quality of unreality, of the uncanny that pervaded Lynch’s series.
I think a feature of a good ‘deep scare’ is that it is somehow enriched. It is not only about getting startled, but that first you are unsettled for an extended period and that there is something else to the horror – not only some scary moments. There is some horrific idea beneath it all (that even if you realize it’s only a dream, you still aren’t safe, that some toy you love, something innocent and soft, could have it in for you, that the home space could be so permeable, so vulnerable, and that therefore, there is no safety anywhere). There is some substance to the film in addition to the scariness that lets it get its claws into you. And, of course, it is scary. Of course, this is the hardest experience to come by the longer I watch these movies.
The Enveloping Horror
Whereas Deep Scares are few and far between, this next experience is far more available. These days, if I see a horror movie and love it, this is what it’s probably delivering. Some films can just take you in, holding you completely in their space, such that when they’re over, you take some of that space with you. This is mainly distinguished from the category above by the fact that you don’t exactly get scared, but the horror on offer still satisfies in a deep way.
Ironically, the emotion I often take away from this is delight. I remember watching the 2018 Suspiria remake and just loving the feeling of the world, of the mystery, of the threat and ultimate rise to power, and that whole bloody, musical, ritualistic, stylized end sequence, the smile on my face spread from ear to ear. I danced home that night, just feeling magic in the night. And the feeling persists.
Watching Cabin in the Woods the first time was also joyful. I can’t claim it was scary, but the reflexive approach it took regarding horror fandom and specifically, what a fan wants to see, the play with genre tropes, and especially, the decision taken by the protagonist at the end all satisfied so deeply (it’s really not the direction most films would have taken) and left me elated.
Both of Robert Eggers’s films, The VVitch and The Lighthouse delivered the same high. And both left me smiling rather than fearful (really, who wouldn’t want to live deliciously?). And yet, I feel both of these, and all of the above listed films, are certainly horror. A key element of this rapture consists in the pinch of the horrific, in this case quite similar to the dramatically satisfying pinch of tragedy. The awfulness of the thing, in juxtaposition with its own beauty (a parallel perhaps to Hegel’s definition of tragedy as the occurrence of mutually exclusive goods), is an essential ingredient of this envelopment.
While Deep Scares represent the dragon, ever chased, rarely caught, these Enveloping Horrors actually make up most of my favorite horror films. For one thing, they exist—you can find them. Also, appreciation for them tends to deepen on re-watch. This isn’t always the case with the first category, which having been seen once, will never be quite so scary again. The best case scenario is that, sapped of its ability to frighten due to familiarity, the Deep Scare can carry on as an Enveloping Horror. Candyman won’t keep me out of the bathroom any more, but it is still a pleasure dwelling in its space.
Good Movies with Horror
So this final group makes up most of the horror movies worth watching. Maybe the scare isn’t so deep. Perhaps the experience doesn’t exactly envelope. But it’s a good movie. The characters are enjoyable, or the plot is engaging, or the writing compels. Maybe there are really impressive practical effects and you can see the passionate creativity that went into its production. Often, they are just fun. A good movie, but with at least some soupçon of horror.
Scream is a good example. It’s a horror movie – masked killer gutting teenagers one by one and all, but the horror is not the primary element. Character and writing, rather, are dominant. It’s funny. It’s entertaining. There is enjoyable mystery to unravel in trying to determine who the killer is. The music is good. The filmmaking is solid. It is, all around, a good movie, with a horror idea at its core.
Or for a more recent example, just the other day I finally checked out Jakob’s Wife on Shudder, and I really liked it. Basically, it is a domestic drama with comic elements about a preacher’s wife, long bored in her marriage and life, who wakes up and commits to start living more fully. Can her husband go along, and will the marriage survive, or will she have to go it alone and leave him behind to become the person she wants to be? Of course the event that wakes her up is being bitten by a vampire and living her best life means drinking human blood.
The thing is, I think that had this just been the domestic drama described, it could have been a decent flick. Barbara Crampton is great in it as the titular character – I think it’s the best thing I’ve seen her do – and Larry Fessenden’s Jakob manages to be such a bore, while not veering into caricature. I believe them as people and as a couple. Plus, it’s often very funny, without exactly being a comedy. The comic elements all grow quite naturally out of the dramatic, and sometimes horrific, context (there is a surprising amount of gore that can elicit a startled laugh in just how far it goes).
But if it had just been that relationship drama, I probably wouldn’t have watched it. Adding the vampiric element lifts it up. Everything is quite literally life and death. You know, it adds stakes…(sorry). But seriously, the supernatural horror element really allows for an extremity in the story that might not have been possible otherwise and just makes it all more fun. It’s a good movie with horror. And that horror makes it better.
Of course, there are many other ways to enjoy a horror movie. I make no claims at exhaustive taxonomy, but I think these three cover much of the field.