Halloween

"I met him, fifteen years ago. I was told there was nothing left; no reason, no conscience, no understanding; not even the most rudimentary sense of life or death, of good or evil, right or wrong. I met this six-year-old child, with this blank, pale, emotionless face, and the blackest eyes…the devil's eyes. I spent eight years trying to reach him, and then another seven trying to keep him locked up because I realized that what was living behind that boy's eyes was purely and simply…evil" -Dr. Sam Loomis

Michael Myers. Perhaps the single greatest icon of the horror film. His debut appearance as "The Shape" in Halloween (1978) saw the beginning of a new era in the genre . The film established John Carpenter as a cinematic genius (whether this reputation has lasted through the years is debatable), established the "rules of horror," and kickstarted the slasher film sub-genre that reached somewhat nauseating heights in the late 1970's and early 1980's. Halloween has since become a staple of not only horror culture, but pop culture in general and still frequently places in the Top 3 or 4 horror films of all time from diehard fans to Fangoria to AFI. 

Halloween (USA)
Released: October 25, 1978
Director: John Carpenter
Screenplay: John Carpenter & Debra Hill

Tagline: "The night HE came home"

Cast:
Donald Pleasance as Dr. Sam Loomis
Jamie Lee Curtis as Laurie Strode
Nancy Loomis as Annie Brackett
Brian Andrews as Tommy Doyle
Kyle Richards as Lindsey Wallace
Tony Moran as The Shape

October 31, 1963, in the quaint, all-American suburban utopia of Haddonfield, Illinois, an unseen figure watches a teenage girl engage in a "romantic dalliance" with her boyfriend. The viewer is placed in the figure's mind, the camera moving as his body, the screen his vision. We move into the house where both a large kitchen knife and a ghoulish clown mask are acquired. Then, now peering through the hollowed eyes of the mask, we move up the stairs and into the girl's bedroom, where she sits at her makeup table. She turns, and is stabbed repeatedly. The assailant is revealed to be six-year old Michael Myers, and the victim, his older sister Judith. 

The now famous opening sequence of Halloween, inspired in part by the opening crane shot in Orson Welles's Touch of Evil (1958), was not the first moment where a filmmaker put the audience into the eye of a maniac, but it become one of the most well-executed and well-known. It's unsettling, even now, to watch and become an unwilling participant in the first of many Michael kills. And this is just the beginning of a relentlessly suspenseful film with a tight plot and an energetic pace. Fifteen years after Michael stumbles onto his front lawn to greet his parents with a bloody knife and a blank face, he escapes from Smith's Grove Asylum, where he has sat, without speaking, all this time. His psychiatrist, Dr. Sam Loomis, tracks him back to Haddonfield, where Michael begins to stalk a trio of babysitters, one of whom he comes to associate with his murdered sister (we find out in the first sequel, Halloween II (1981) that Laurie is actually Michael's baby sister, put up for adoption after he was sent away). Laurie Strode proves the only one resourceful enough to fit back against this faceless and pursuant evil.

Halloween became one of the most profitable horror movies of all time, a well deserved but surprise success given that it had a budget of about $350,000. This attracted the attention of a number of filmmakers and studios who began to mimic Halloween and thus the slasher film became its own out of control vehicle, dominating horror well into the 1980's, though none were near as skillful and inoffensive as their muse. As a scare machine, Halloween is virtually flawless. Carpenter's memorable score alone has been known to send chills down people's spines, even if they haven't even seen the film. The tension is always high, and makes use of pantomime scares made possible but the Panavision format, a somewhat rare indulgence for a low-budget film like this.

"Simply and purely…evil"

Everything from the set pieces to the neighbors pulling down the blinds and shutting out the lights as Laurie runs from house to house showcase Carpenter's technical and visual flair. Michael Myers does not only stalk the streets of Haddonfield, he stalks the imaginations of the viewers, a villain so cold and brutal there is no way he won't imprint himself on the psyches of anyone who watches him do battle against the wily Laurie Strode. Speaking of which, if Michael is the quintessential horror movie villain, it should be noted that four of every five horror fans will name Laurie Strode as the greatest horror movie heroine of all time. Jamie Lee Curtis was cast in the movie as the ultimate tribute to Alfred Hitchcock, who had given her mother Janet Leigh legendary status in Psycho (1960), and remains the reigning scream queen of the horror genre, having belted her way through this and other great classics such as The Fog (1980), Terror Train (1980), and the original Prom Night (1980). 

Given that Halloween is looked at as the birth of the slasher sub-genre (though truly the genre has origins in the splatter films of the 1960's, the Italian giallo (serial killer) films and in Bob Clark's Black Christmas (1974), among a few other lesser-known sources), it must also be looked at as the beginning of the "rules of horror" that equate sex, drugs, and partial with death. And turning your back on the seemingly dead killer with unreal physical abilities is also a big no-no. This formula was adopted wholesale by later slashers, and has been something that both Carpenter and Halloween have come under fire for--Michael kills his sister after watching her fornicate, and strikes down several other teens either after sex or while preparing to have sex, but the virginal Laurie survives.

Carpenter has defended this pattern as being a realistic portrayal of what teenagers do. Laurie survives less because she's a virgin and than because she has less to distract her as the ill-fated Lynda and Annie. In fact, the characters in Halloween are fairly well-drawn and sympathetic, almost nothing like the mindless drones that populate the abundance of Friday the 13th and Nightmare on Elm Street sequels. We care about the characters in Halloween because we are given true insight into their lives. 

"I saw someone standing in Mr. Riddle's backyard…he was watching me"

Even for all of it's realism, the film never loses that eerie emptiness that hangs over the streets and seeps through the glowing pumpkins, turning the whole town of Haddonfield into a menacing neverland. As the film progresses, Michael Myers becomes less the archetype of an escaped lunatic and more the sinister boogeyman so feared by the film's two child characters, Tommy and Lindsey. Though not as blatantly obvious as the sequels, something about Michael rings of a supernatural indestructibility, and there is no better evidence of this than the haunting final montage. 

The much beloved Donald Pleasance, who would collaborate with Carpenter on several future projects after Halloween, delivers his lines with an admirable, albeit creepy, elegance, and gets at the heart of why we so fear "The Shape": his pure, unsaturated evilness. There is something deeply frightening about a monster not the product of a dysfunctional family or warped society, who is just filled with malice and darkness that cannot be reasoned or explained. 

This fear slowly crawls over the viewer as they take in Halloween, elevating the movie to heights beyond babysitter murders and inefficient police backup. As the film ends, cutting from empty street to empty house to empty school, the heavy breathing of Michael growing louder and deeper in our ears, the audience is left with the sensation that Tommy may have been right, and thus wonders, what if? What could happen on Halloween this year, the night when the barriers between the living and the dead are thinnest, and we enter a world not of our own--a world of masks, knives, and ominous shapes.

"The trick…is to stay alive"

Halloween (1978)

5-Totally Terrifying

4-Crazy Creepy

3-Fairly Frightening

2-Slightly Scary

1-Hardly Horror

ScareHouse

"You will hear things you cannot un-hear. You will see things you cannot un-see. Do you understand the safe word?"

And so begins one's journey into The Basement, the new intrusive haunt at Pittsburgh's ScareHouse in Etna, a haunted house experience already renowned for being one of America's scariest Halloween attractions, consistently ranked number one across the board from the Travel Channel to USA Today to Yahoo. Top Haunts, a magazine and website dedicated to the enjoyment of Halloween and haunted attractions across the globe, has even marked ScareHouse as "the #1 haunt in the world."

You really don't want to know why he's laughing

It's tough to argue with those reviews, and I'm not sure I know anyone who has been to ScareHouse that would. Now in its 14th year of operation, the ScareHouse has a famed and well-respected reputation for both mastering and pushing the science of scaring every October. This year is no exception, and the ScareHouse team, led by creative director Scott Simmons, have pushed the envelope by providing viewers with the unique option of entering The Basement.

Separate from the main haunt--which follows a more traditional setup of participants being spooked but not touched, moving at their own pace--The Basement is an interactive, adults-only venue that requires guests to provide photo ID and sign waivers promising not to sue the organization for any emotional or physical damage endured inside. Then, immediately before entering, verbal assent must be given to a stone-faced S.W.A.T. officer who runs through a checklist, making sure you will be able to crawl, run, jump, and restrain yourself from touching the performers, though they will certainly be getting up close and personal with you.

From the very first chamber in The Basement, a dark, silent room lit only by candles containing a sinister surprise, to the final showdown on a crooked staircase, participants are at the mercy of the creatures and creeps lurking within the dark, dank walls. All control is relinquished down there, and you are not permitted to move from room to room at your own speed. You are manhandled, pushed, prodded, and poked whenever they deem it appropriate for you to move on. This can lead to uncomfortably long moments of time with an insane, blood-drenched man brandishing a staple gun, rubbing his face against your cheek and asking if he might be able to wear your skin.

"So, what are you most afraid of?"

As only two people are permitted to enter The Basement at any given time, there is no way to escape the interactive nature of the new ScareHouse haunt. No one to hide behind. Especially given the fact that, in several rooms, you will be separated from your partner to suffer your own individual nightmare, being only vaguely aware of what might be happening to your friend or companion by the sound of their screams. This is one of the great features of The Basement as it guarantees that no two people will have the same experience from start to finish. 

For my friend and I, who entered The Basement last night, we had a hazy concept of what we were in for, but there were a number of unexpected trials that awaited us, as The Basement covers every corner of twisted and depraved that you can think of. And it's great. One moment you're being held by the hair as someone smells your neck, the next a patchfaced ghoul is running their dirty finger along the inside of your shoe. You are sprayed with sickeningly sweet perfume at one point, and squirted with jugular blood in the next. A kinky dominatrix leaves you handcuffed and bound, while inbred hillbillies torment you in dark closets and decrepit bathrooms. Bags get thrown over your head, razors ran against bare flesh. Mad doctors try to scalp you and you won't leave without barking like a dog and stumbling upon a sinister surgery, which you must partake in. 

There are tasks you have to complete, questions you have to answer. They will demand your name and screw with your head. There's shouting, swearing, and dirty language even the most seasoned potty-mouths will blush at. Nothing is off the table in The Basement, so you could find yourself cornered by a man wearing only dirty briefs as he simulates masturbation, or strapped to a gurney being grilled about the number of sexual partners you've had as an overlarge syringe is swiped past your neck. 

And in the end, you must deal with the clown. Happy. It's her birthday. And you had better have a present for her.

She's going to count to 10, and then...

This is only a taste of what one experiences in The Basement, the top layer of what I experienced myself last night, so if you find yourself down there be prepared for your personal tale of terror to play out after you find yourself in a headlock with a sweaty demon asking you, "What's your greatest fear?"

Obviously, the intense nature of The Basement is not for everyone. But for those horror and Halloween lovers who are always looking for that next great thrill, the soaring new high, give ScareHouse's new haunt a try. And don't worry, should you find yourself unable to endure the final challenge or too freaked out at the halfway point (or anytime before or after), you can utilize the safe word, "bunny," in honor of the ScareHouse's iconic mascot. Calling this out at anytime during The Basement will stop the game, and someone will come to escort you outside. You will, however, have to add your tally mark to the wall of shame, a whiteboard outside the entrance to The Basement keeping tack of all those who could not finish the experience. As of immediately before my entrance yesterday evening, 49 people had "bunnied-out" since ScareHouse opened on September 27. 

And don't forget about the regular ScareHouse haunt. It's a beautifully done 20-minute experience that takes you through three different chilling sections, starting with The Forsaken, a doll-infested demonic playground of a church, house, and barn inhabited by deranged souls brought about by someone having read too much ancient Latin. From there you enter Creepo's Christmas, where you don 3-D glasses to confront mutant snowmen and killer elves. It's true holiday horror--Santa is dead, but Creepo lives. Finally, run down an apocalyptic Carson Street and through an abandoned Primanti Bros. in Pittsburgh Zombies, a tribute to the living dead legacy of Pittsburgh as the Zombie Capital of the World. I'll say that this year in particular there seemed to be abundance of hungry hordes of walking dead. We had to watch our backs as much as our fronts. 

Trailer for Pittsburgh Zombies haunt

If you stick with the original haunt, you will have a good time, and it's worth your money. But if you can, snatch up a ticket for The Basement and give it a go. You won't be disappointed about that. Even Mike Dougherty, the director of the Halloween anthology (and one of my personal favorite horror movies) Trick r Treat (2007), and dark fantasy/horror director Guillermo del Toro, who visited ScareHouse just last weekend, were impressed enough to have praised the weird work done down in Etna, saying that the creative team "nailed it" and that it was "really beautiful." Plus, if you can see it through to the end, you'll find yourself with a cool takeaway as physical proof that you survived the night.

ScareHouse is open every Thursday-Sunday until November 2, including Halloween night (7-10pm on Thursdays and Sundays, 7-midnight on Fridays and Saturdays) and tickets can be bought online for half hour timeslots for both the regular haunt and The Basement (which must be bought separately). Parking is provided at the Pittsburgh Zoo & PPG Aquarium with a shuttle over to Locust Street where the actual ScareHouse is located. 

There are over 2,500 haunted attractions in the United States, and less than a handful get as much praise and respect as the ScareHouse, maybe the only one where Halloween horror rises to become genuine art. It's an unparalleled and unsettling Pittsburgh treasure, and now there's something even more terrifying lying underneath, where oh so many demons are waiting in the dark. If you think you're brave enough to do what at least 49 other people could not, I'd reserve your timeslot now. But remember, it's not for the faint of heart, and if you're having doubts it might be best to consider the tried and true moniker of R.L. Stine's Goosebumps: stay out of The Basement. 

Will you "bunny-out"?

Click for additional trailers for The Forsaken, Creepo's Christmas, and The Basement

Carrie (1976 & 2013)

Generally accepted as the best adaption of any Stephen King novel, probably because it not only stays true to the source material but also to the tone of King's inaugural story, Carrie (1976) is a horror movie classic, more respected now than it was when it was released in the 1970's, and will likely continue to stand the test of time for being well-crafted and downright scary. Kimberly Peirce's "re-imagining," now in theaters pretty much everywhere, will join the long list of remade staples that are fine for what they are, but that really should have been left untouched. 

Carrie (USA)
Released: November 3, 1976
Director: Brian De Palma
Screenplay: Lawrence D. Cohen (based on the novel by Stephen King)

Tagline: "If you've got a taste for terror...take Carrie to the prom"

Cast:
Sissy Spacek as Carrie White
Piper Laurie as Margaret White
Amy Irving as Sue Snell
William Katt as Tommy Ross
John Travolta as Billy Nolan
Nancy Allen as Chris Hargensen
Betty Buckley as Miss Collins

Dirty pillows. Pig's blood. "The prom." All elements of the original Carrie referenced in everything from pop culture to idle conversation to big budget horror-comedy tribute extravaganzas. Now iconic, the story of high school senior Carrie White, a misfit mocked for her awkwardness, lack of social skills, and primarily her naivety at the workings of her own body when she begins to menstruate in the showers after gym class and subsequently freaks out. Her situation isn't helped by the fact that she is the daughter of a sin-obsessed, manic religious zealot of a mother, who punishes Carrie for her "everyday sin" of being born and existing by locking her in a closet with only a candle and a picture of Jesus so that she can pray for forgiveness. 

The restrictions placed on Carrie's life by her insane mother, Margaret--no leaving the house except for school, no friends, no dates, no questions about her physical maturation--make it quite easy to pity Carrie. She's frail, unwanted, and seemingly powerless. But then. It seems that along with her buddy sexuality, Carrie starts to develop growing telekinetic powers that are intertwined with her emotional state, so that when she's eventually set up for a cruel and vicious prank at her school's prom all of her repressed anger is unleashed in bloody fashion.

The story is timeless. It's hard to watch Carrie and not identify with the film one way or another, either as the kid who was deemed too different to be respected, or as the classmate who sniggered, pointed fingers, and taunted. In both scenarios, there is going to be a level of discomfort to the viewer. The film is complex, and reads as creepily justified, though it allows the audience to share the other characters' disdain for the genuinely odd Carrie, and thus make them complicit in her torment. 

And I always thought I looked good in red...

Sissy Spacek gives a brilliant performance in the film, and both she and Piper Laurie (whom you might know as Catherine Martell in Twin Peaks) were nominated for Academy Awards because of their work in this film (Spacek for Best Actress, Laurie for Best Supporting Actress). Spacek's performance does not beg for sympathy from the audience, but delicately insists that the outcast should be feared as well as pitied, and in a post-Colombine age, this gives the film a greater resonance than just remembering to see the swan inside all of the ducklings out there. De Palma definitely capitalized on Spacek's acting chops to capture the perfect cocktail of horror and tragedy, very much in keeping with the themes and tone of King's first novel. The film had to work with a relatively limited budget, but in the end it worked, as De Palma had to work his movie so that it found shocks in something other than spectacular effects. 

The well-managed blend of sinister and sad, the even build of tension and story aided by Cohen's thoughtful screenplay (he would later go on to script another Stephen King nightmare-fest, It (1990) and in effect, scare the crap out of me), strong performances from the cast (not just the outstanding Spacek and Laurie but the supporting players as well), and the emotional connection between character and audience nurtured throughout by De Palma's camerawork makes Carrie a frequent mention near the bottom of Top 10 Horror lists. It seems fitting, as Carrie did get the recognition she so craved, even if she never quite truly made it to the top.

Needless to say, you won't be seeing Kimberly Peirce's reworked Carrie (2013) gracing similar lists anytime soon. Though it has a few things going for it, in the end the film relies too heavily on the final sequence, which makes the rest of the effort too hollow and distant.

Carrie (USA)

Released: October 18, 2013

Director: Kimberly Peirce

Screenplay: Roberto Aguirre-Sacasa & Lawrence D. Cohen

Tagline: "You will know her name"

Cast:

Chloe Grace Moretz as Carrie White

Julianne Moore as Margaret White

Judy Greer as Miss Desjardin

Gabriella Wilde as Sue Snell

Ansel Elgort as Tommy Ross

Alex Russell as Billy Nolan

Portia Doubleday as Chris Hargensen

Director Peirce, best known for writing and directing Boys Don't Cry (1999) with Hilary Swank, changes very little from the De Palma original, aside from modern updates and a tweak on how Carrie recognizes and wields her burgeoning telekinetic powers. When her rage does boil over, the expression is certainly dramatic and intense in the film, but insulting obvious as CGI. This new Carrie is not the lost young creature of the original who lashes out in the confusing midst of a terrifying mental breakdown, but basically a certifiable sorceress who wields destruction by simply outstretching her hand. My suspicion is that for those moviegoers who are unfamiliar with the original film, or who think that it is too "dated" for their modern cinematic pallets, then Carrie's near magical powers will be fun and exciting to watch. 

As was to be expected, the remake takes great pains to align itself with a younger demographic, allusions to Facebook, Twitter, and other social media platforms strewn about, an excessive use of texting, and a reference to Tim Tebow that tops it all off. And while all of this superficiality has been added to draw viewers in on the most basic level, lost is the true essence and meat of the story. The timid expressions and subtle body language of a severely troubled girl exploring new found confidence as she moves towards a tragic end are left to Spacek in the original. Instead, Chloe Grace Moretz, too blond, broad-shouldered, and attractive to look mousy and embody the alien eeriness meant for her character, has to work harder to sell the victim status, but her exaggerated hunching, tightly crossed arms, and barely frizzed hair don't do the trick. Moretz's Carrie rises to power on an occasional mean spirit, waving her arms and directing her power as specific individuals to wishes to ravage and coming across more like an evil witch than a broken girl with a gift she can't comprehend or control.

Throughout the film, Moretz seems uncomfortable in her role. There's no sense that she has ever experienced isolation, ridicule, or the machinations conducted by nasty peers. And honestly, she's not very committed to pretending she has, either. I'll admit that yes, there were moments when she communicated awkwardness and melancholy, but they were too much of a mask, not really believed by Moretz, and thus not believed by the audience. I'm not a particular fan of Moretz in general, but I do acknowledge that she can have an appealing onscreen presence in the right circumstances. I just don't think that dysfunctional Carrie White was the right fit for her. I'm thinking lack of life experience might play a role in the disconnect.

Oh yeah, poor homely, awkward Carrie...

Even though fans of the original will be hard-pressed by buy into Judy Greer as the concerned gym teacher, given that she flops in comparison to Betty Buckler's Miss Collins in the 1976 film, the remake does offer an immense improvement on the character of Tommy Ross, here played by Ansel Elgort. He's much more in tune with the psyche of a high school jock than William Katt ever seemed to be.

There is too much emphasis in the remake on the prom scene. The entire film essentially serves as a set up to the outrageous and bloody display of mayhem and madness that explodes as a result of Carrie's supernatural power. None of these moments are given time to actually be moments, rather than stepping stones on the way to the finale. Moretz was mis-cast, and Peirce took the bones of a story without taking the muscle. Given that this October has proven to be a pretty slim season for horror and Halloween fans, however, I suppose we'll have to make do with this skeleton of a film. 

Still, I can't help thinking back to what the true father of the terror and tragedy that became Carrie White, Mr. Stephen Edwin King, said when he heard that the story was going to be re-adapted, "The real question is why, when the original was so good?"

Why, indeed, Mr. King? Why, indeed.

Carrie (1976)

5-Totally Terrifying

4-Crazy Creepy

3-Fairly Frightening

2-Slightly Scary

1-Hardly Horror

Carrie (2013)

5-Totally Terrifying

4-Crazy Creepy

3-Fairly Frightening

2-Slightly Scary

1-Hardly Horror

Zombies

In honor of tonight's season four premiere of AMC's The Walking Dead (2010-present), today's post is all about those moldy, slobbering, decomposing animated corpses that have absolutely dominated pop culture in the last several years: the zombie. 

Kiss, pookie? 

Because the zombies are definitely back, my friends, rising up all over the world to wrap their clammy fingers around horror fans' hearts. You might be able to attribute this new trend to the no-holds-barred gorefest of Rob Zombie's House of 1000 Corpses (2003) but I'd say the true resurgence of interest (obsession?) with the zombie is thanks to Zack Snyder's Dawn of the Dead (2004) remake, and the first installment of the recently completed Cornetto Trilogy, Shaun of the Dead (2004), which some say spurred George Romero, unchallenged grandfather of the zombie subgenre, to make his undead comeback with Land of the Dead (2005). Either way, they're back, everyone is obsessed with them, and it looks as though they're here to wreck havoc on those with beating hearts for some time yet.

Which is somewhat strange, if you think about it. Among all the movie monsters, zombies make the most unlikely stars. They lack the glamor of their fiendish counterparts; Dracula is a bona fide Count, the Mummy was once a king, the Wolf Man a true romantic at the center of his hairy heart, and the Phantom of the Opera and the Hunchback of Notre Dame are poignant reminders that behind a twisted visage noble thoughts and feelings can flourish. There's even a sneaky complicity experienced in the story of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.

But zombies, on the other hand, are rotten. Literally. Decaying flesh lacks the glitz factor. Unlike the above monsters, the zombie is devoid of any hidden passions or depths, and yet audiences still find something tragic and compelling about these sorry creatures to warrant an absolute barrage of living dead paraphernalia in recent years, from novels, Max Brooks's  Zombie Survival Guide and World War Z (adapted into a movie this year), Stephen King's Cell, Seth Grahame-Green's Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, to art, Jillian McDonald's "Horror Make-Up" video art and Karim Charredib's interactive tableau "Them!!!", to slews of college campuses turning up for rounds of Humans vs. Zombies, an established live-action roleplaying game. There are even annual "zombie walks" in most big cities, including a fairly popular one in our own backyard.

If there ever IS a zombie apocalypse...Pittsburgh may be way too into it

So for whatever reason, people love their zombies, even though they frequently herald the end of civilization. The best zombie movies either detail the real-world collapsing upon itself, like the original Dawn of the Dead (1978) and Day of the Dead (1985), or depict reality itself coming under siege as in the Italian horror classic City of the Living Dead (1980). 

And unlike the other major players in the horror genre, zombies have no foundations in literature. They began as an anthropological curiosity, more or less, from interest in William Seabrook's non-fiction account of Haitian Voodoo practices, The Magic Island (1929). The first film to pick up on Seabrook's research was Victor Halperin's best-known work, White Zombie (1932) which started the initial treatment of zombies as being slaves, sometimes dead, sometimes alive, under the control of a Voodoo master. This depiction continued well into the 1940's, though they were mostly cheap knockoffs, until the interest in zombies died out during the monster craze of the 1950's. 

The zombie crawled out of the grave with the Hammer Horror film Plague of the Zombies (1966), in which a Cornish village is wiped out by a mysterious, fast-spreading disease only to have the cadavers re-animate under the control of the local quire/Voodoo expert. This gave rise to the second phase of the zombie in horror film, what most fans consider the true birth of the zombie, with George A. Romero's Night of the Living Dead (1968), filmed primarily in Butler County (if you didn't know, Romero went to CMU and worked for WQED before getting into mainstream filmmaking, having gotten started by working on Mister Rogers' Neighborhood (1968-2001)). 

Night of the Living Dead became the Bible of the modern zombie film. Simple yet horrifying, it tells the story of a small group of people thrown together by chance who must barricade themselves in a dismal and dreary farmhouse as hordes of the newly risen walking dead attempt to break in. Romero's film came up with several innovations that the genre still relies upon today: 1) a pervading sense of meaningless which induces terror, 2) those in power and authority being unable to explain what has occurred, 3) the surviving humans being a motley crew ill-equipped to deal with the rising crisis, 4) and zombies fresh out of the morgue, toe-tagged and dressed in their finest. Perhaps his greatest innovation, though, was to have his ghoulish creatures eat the flesh of the living. He tapped into the incredibly taboo subject of cannibalism that unleashed a truly primal fear. Plus, once you're bitten, the wound spawns a terminal infection, forcing you to become a zombie too, a sickening idea borrowed from vampire lore. 

"I'm starting to think that this MIGHT not be a mosquito bite"

The game-changing Night of the Living Dead has been followed with five sequels, Dawn of the Dead (1978), an action-horror hybrid easily as terrifying and influential as the first, Day of the Dead (1985), a bleak and exhausting film with some extraordinary effects, Land of the Dead (2005), a mesmerizing Pittsburgh-set film with creative allusions, Diary of the Dead (2007), a quasi-found footage prequel following several University of Pittsburgh film students as they document the initial outbreak of the zombie apocalypse, and Survival of the Dead (2009), which, I shall admit, I have yet to see. It will, I'm sure, function in the same way as its predecessors by adding conceits about the decadence of consumer capitalism that is derived from Romero's famous raging pessimism. 

A lot of diverse oddities followed in Romero's wake, among them Willard Huyck's Messiah of Evil (1973), touching on themes of dreams gone sour and consumer society gone crazy, and Deathdream (1972), a Canadian film about a Vietnam soldier who dies in combat and then returns home to resume his old life. There is also the surprisingly creepy Children Shouldn't Play with Dead Things (1972) and the totally messed up The Child (1977) in which a nasty little girl uses psychic powers to terrorize her family before introducing them to her friends from the graveyard. Somewhat less serious, but still icky, is John Hayes's Garden of the Dead (1972), with talking, formaldehyde-addicted chain-gang zombies involved for some reason. 

Tombs of the Blind Dead (1971) ended up spawning three sequels and became a major influence on Spanish horror, what with its chilling skeletal zombie Knights Templars riding around on horseback. The success of Dawn of the Dead in Italy, as well as Jorge Grau's Let Sleeping Corpses Lie (1974), inspired Lucio Fulci to make Zombi 2 (1979), which made a noticeable mark on the genre. Fulci favored excess decay and rot in his zombies, and his film had shocking, gory attacks that elicited far more disgust than Romero's films. He added ghostly weirdness in both City of the Living Dead and The Beyond (1981), with cadavers that could appear and disappear at will, emerging from the most unlikely places to attack their victims. 

Promotional still from Zombi 2 (1979)

The 1980's saw several comedy-horror zombie flicks, the ancestors of Shaun of the Dead, starting with Return of the Living Dead (1985) and Re-Animator (1985), which both combine splashy gore and macabre humor. But this formula got old fast, in my opinion, and there are a lot of zombie sequels and sluggish teen trash that should be avoided at all costs (unless you're like my dad and you love 80's horror crapfests, in which case I should recommend David Acomba's Night Life (1989) and Dan Hoskins's Chopper Chicks in Zombietown (1989), which...really just says it all). This decade did give us Wes Craven's The Serpent and the Rainbow (1988), however, and that is anything but comical. A return to the original concept of Haitian Voodoo being able to enslave and torment, it easily makes Top 50 Horror lists to this day and, personally, gives me the creeps one each repeat viewing.

The recent zombie revival is certainly a mixed blessing. Looking at the Dawn of the Dead remake there is certainly lots of adrenaline, but no interesting characters, and Land of the Dead is bogged down by a corny super villain and a boring hero. Even though the running, screeching, horrifying "rage" victims in 28 Days Later (2002) aren't technically zombies, Danny Boyle milks the sub-genre style. A similar approach is used in the claustrophobic and very well-done Canadian film Pontypool (2009), about a shock jock turned radio announcer who becomes trapped in a small Ontario town by both a blizzard and a swarm of  locals infected with a deadly virus. 

Other recent clever approaches to the zombie game have been Jonathan Levine's Warm Bodies (2013), which plays with the idea that a corpse could return fully to human life, and the critically acclaimed Zombieland (2009), which, though dropped by Amazon, is developing a spin-off television series and a sequel. And of course there's the immensely popular AMC drama The Walking Dead, adapted from the comic book series by Robert Kirkman, Tony Moore, and Charlie Adlard, which follows deputy-sheriff Rick Grimes (played by Andrew Lincoln in the series) after he awakes from a coma to find himself in a post-apocalyptic, zombie-dominated world. The series is on Netflix Instant, along with a good chunk of the above mentioned films in this post. 

If that still doesn't satisfy your lust for the lovable flesh-eating walking dead, here's a list of notable zombie films worth checking out for one reason or another that I just couldn't get to. The subgenre is huge, so have at it zombie-freaks. Binge wisely.

• Zombie Holocaust (1979)
• Erotic Nights of the Living Dead (1980)
• Zombie Creeping Flesh (1980)
• Burial Ground (1981)
• Oasis of the Zombies (1983)
• A Virgin Among the Living Dead (1971)
• The Grapes of Death (1978)--very moody, very underrated
• The Living Dead Girl (1982)--cited a lot by horror buffs as classic, I feel it's overrated
• Zombie Lake (1981)--charmingly awful
• Night of Horror (1980)
• Curse of the Screaming Dead (1982)
• The Alien Dead (1980)--amusing, if inept at times
• Fiend (1980)--the rare post-Dawn of the Dead zombie movie that owes nothing to Romero. Has a reanimated cadaver, possessed by a demon, giving violin lessons in Baltimore
• The Dark Power (1985)--zombie Toltec Indians on a rampage; suddenly becomes a sorority slasher film 
• The Crazies (1973)--a contagion in the water; also directed by Romero
• Forest of Fear (1979)
• Frozen Scream (1980)--dead people stored in cryogenic suspension are ordered to kill by radio control...as if Walt Disney could get any scarier
• Raw Force (1982)--cannibalistic monks who can raise the dead
• Resident Evil (2002)
• Black Sheep (2006)
• Slither (2006)
• 28 Weeks Later (2007)--sequel to, you guessed it, 28 Days Later
• I Am Legend (2007)
• REC (2007)
• The Signal (2007)--also utilizes the concept of radio waves as a way to trigger violent behavior in everyday people
• Dead Snow (2008)--Nazi-zombies. Yep.

You can go now, even if she doesn't want you to...

Absentia

I was going to dedicate today's post to the third season of FX's acclaimed and daring drama American Horror Story, which premieres tonight at 10:00 pm under the subtitle Coven, but given that the season hasn't started yet there wasn't going to be much to say about this new edition that can't be found elsewhere, so I'll wait until we're a ways into the season.

PLUS, I happened to watch a great indie horror film on a whim last night and ended up pleasantly freaked and excited to promote it. A lot of beloved and influential horror classics started off as little independent projects hoping to somehow make a mark, and though not all modern day indie horrors that dominate the film festivals measure up to Halloween (1978) or The Texas Chain Saw Massacre (1973), one or two emerge triumphant from the bloodbath. Mike Flanagan's Absentia (2011) is one such film.

Absentia (U.S.)

Released: March 3, 2011

Director: Mike Flanagan

Screenplay: Mike Flanagan

Tagline: "There are fates worse than death"

Cast:

Katie Parker as Callie

Courtney Bell as Tricia Riley

Dave Levine as Detective Ryan Mallory

Morgan Peter Brown as Daniel Riley

Justin Gordon as Detective Lonergan

There's nothing quite like finding a little horror-film-that-could and watching it get by surprisingly well. You have to adopt some respect for the creative minds at work that got their project off the ground, especially a project like Absentia, which squeezes an impressive amount of horror out of a $70,000 budget. As such, if you're looking for crazy and expensive special effects and other studio money embellishments, this might not be the movie for you. IF, however, you're a fan of psychological terror and personal hauntings, then this movie might just be right up your alley.

I went into the film not knowing anything other than a basic plot line so I'm going to avoid giving away too much of the story, especially since there are a few unexpected twists to the story that will fool even the most experienced of us horror and mystery fans living in a post-Sixth Sense world. But, in a nutshell, Absentia is a dreary psychological foray into the mind of a woman, Tricia, who is about to declare her husband, vanished seven years past, legally dead, or, "death in absentia." In order to face the moment when her husband will not exist in a legal sense, Tricia calls on her younger sister Callie to help her in the final steps of moving out and moving on. But when strange things start happening in a neighborhood where "things go missing," old wounds are opened between the sisters and the tension skyrockets. Oh, and then, there's something strange about the tunnel across the road. 

If you're intrigued, throw it in your cart on Netflix Instant, just don't be put off by the awful cover art they chose. It's really not a good reflection of the quality of the film at all...

Apparently this was made by Cliche Crafts, Inc.

At first it seems like you can easily pull the threads of what's going to happen next in Absentia, but then comes a wicked punch to the chin that follows with a few other revelations soaring in from left field. The story continues to work these interesting angles and relies on atmosphere and mystery rather than violence, shock value, or profound digital visuals. Writer-director Mike Flanagan brings genuine spirit through pen and camera, playing on sinister, old folklore but then turning it around to make it all his own. There are times when the plot advances based only on conjecture, but the pacing is spot-on and makes even the weak moments work. Flanagan also adheres to one of my favorite rules for the horror genre: showing as little as possible. As the climax crawls nearer and nearer, you know that something is going on, can feel that something is lurking, but we can't see the whole picture just yet. The imagination is flexed here, and that always makes a good horror story stand out.

The cast also brings the movie up a notch, despite their generally inexperienced nature, which is great considering Absentia is very much a character-driven story. Katie Parker plays the lead as comfortably charismatic, while Bell convincingly taps into the ideal image of the older, responsible put-upon sister. 

A few plot points remain somewhat murky when the credits roll, and that may mean this film should be avoided by mainstream horror fans, but Absentia is still great in that it presents a fresh idea, a compelling story, and explores themes that have not been run into the ground as in other horror films. It proves that capable storytellers and strong performers can still serve up creepy joyrides without the big bucks. 

Absentia

5-Totally Terrifying

4-Crazy Creepy

3-Fairly Frightening

2-Slightly Scary

1-Hardly Horror

The Ring/Ringu

One of the first movies that I can recall truly unsettling me and causing me to wonder if my days actually were numbered was Gore Verbinski's The Ring (2002). Whether they love it or hate it, true horror fans know that this psychologically chilling film shifted the horror genre onto a path that led us to where we are today.

The Ring (U.S.)
Released: October 18, 2002
Director: Gore Verbinski
Screenplay: Ehren Kruger (based on the novel Ringu by Koji Suzuki)

Tagline: "Before you die, you see the ring"

Cast:
Naomi Watts as Rachel Keller
Martin Henderson as Noah Clay
David Dorfman as Aidan Keller
Brian Cox as Richard Morgan
Daveigh Chase as Samara Morgan

Horror can be said to run in cycles, particularly in the world of cinema. Serial killers and slasher films enjoyed their heydey in the late 1970's and 1980's after John Carpenter's blockbuster Halloween (1978), the classic Universal monster movies dominated in the 1930's and through most of the 1940's, and starting in 2002, The Ring brought about the dawn of the adaptation. Most people in this day and age have seen The Ring, but few have seen the original Japanese film on which it was based, Hideo Nakata's Ringu (1998), which is a travesty. To this day, Ringu is considered the most frightening horror film in Japan, according to an annual nationwide survey. Not quite the moniker obtained by the American version.

This is not to say that the Yank adaptation isn't noteworthy in it's own right. It's still deeply creepy, chilling, and a well-made film in it's own right. As with all horror, atmosphere is essential, and the washed-out filter and drab lighting of The Ring make for a fearful pall that hangs over the movie, dread and foreboding seeping down the windows as much as the constant Seattle rain. The Ring follows single mother Rachel Keller investigating the mysterious premature death of her niece, Katie, eventually discovering that a week before she ended up dead and distorted, Katie had gone to a secluded cabin with friends to watch an underground video with a nasty urban legend attached to it. Seven days later, Katie and all of her friends met their maker at the exact moment they had watched the homegrown, nightmarish tape. Rachel tracks down the cabin (and thus the tape) and watches it herself, being subjected to a series of disturbing rapid-fire black and white images. When the white static rolls, Rachel receives a phone call, just as the teens before her did, informing her that she will die in seven days time. A ticking clock is set in motion and Rachel takes it upon herself to investigate the origins of the mysterious tape, all the while fending off strange occurrences, and attempt to alter what she increasingly comes to realize is her damned fate.

It's a clever film in that it uses its own premise to incite fear a much as it uses the story itself. Subtly inserted shots of "the ring" itself, which we come to learn is the "last thing you see before you die" throughout the film tend to put the viewer on edge, making them feel as though they are not watching the movie but rather the tape itself transformed into a feature film. "The ring" will flash so suddenly across the screen, that I can remember being left wondering if there was a glitch on the film, I was going crazy, or if it was designed to be there. Go back and watch your own copy and you'll notice things like the Dreamworks logo flashing into "the ring" for a split second, and the FBI warning having the same staticky quality of the infamous tape itself.

Given that it also has solid performances from the lead and supporting actors (Naomi Watts would find her turn as Rachel Keller to be quite the career maker, landing roles both in and outside the horror genre over the past eleven years), it's no surprise that The Ring sticks in people's minds, and in pop culture, perhaps thanks to the efforts of David Dorfman as Rachel's son Aidan and Daveigh Chase's turn as Samara, easily one of the most memorable horror villains in recent years. 

This is why I use a Brita filter

Dorfman did get some criticism for his melancholy portrayal of Aidan, with some moviegoers comparing him unfavorably to Haley Joel Osment in The Sixth Sense (1999), but I think this is unfair. Osment came off as creepy because creepy stuff was happening around him, but Dorfman played Aidan as being disturbing all on his own damn time. His character seems to be wiser and more mature than all the adults in the film, a fact that makes his role deeply unsettling when coupled with his small physical size. Think of the scene where Aidan is putting on a suit in the mirror and the eeriness that exudes from this mundane act being a testament to the quality of Dorfman's work in this film.

Like other horror films that initiated genre shifts and countless imitators, The Ring should always be thought of as separate from the slew of remakes and repackagings that followed its initial success, because it does have the ability to stand on its own and will likely be remembered for some time to come.

But if you can appreciate The Ring for the above reasons, I would highly recommend checking out the original, Ringu. Nakata's film established the story you're already familiar with, so there won't be too much of a narrative jolt.

Ringu  (Japan)

Released: January 31, 1998

Director: Hideo Nakata

Screenplay: Hiroshi Takahashi (based on the novel by  Koji Suzuki)

Tagline: "One curse, one curse, one week to find it"

Cast:

Nanako Matsushima as Reiko Asakawa

Hiroyuki Sanada as Ryuji Takayama

Rikiya Otaka as Yoichi Asakawa

Rie Ino as Sadako Yamamura

To this day, the enormously successful Ringu, which follows TV reporter Reiko Asakawa and her ex-husband on an investigation into the origins of a cursed videotape, holds the record for being Japan's highest-grossing horror film of all time. It spearheaded a renaissance not only in American remakes and remarketings of J-horror, but in Japanese horror overall, affecting dozens of films that didn't even get (yet?) American screw-ups (I mean, adaptations). 

Whereas Verbinski's version of the tale relies on mood and a slowburn and coherent narrative to induce dread and suspense, Ringu is more about inciting a kind of pervasive eeriness, something that feels much more invasive and sticky to the viewer. Watching the American version, you feel as though you might encounter Samara one day. Watching the original, you feel as though Sadako is right there in the room with you, thinly veiled behind each and every reflective surface. In Ringu, we watch the investigation unravel through a series of startling images, non-sequiturs, free association, and psychic intuition, all of which lead to some incredibly unsettling moments absent from the, and I've really just got to say it, watered-down American version. Chief among these would be SPOILER ALERT: the fact that the fate of Reiko's son Yoichi is left in jeopardy at the end of the film, and heavily hinted that it does not end well. END OF SPOILER ALERT. 

Nakata's overall atmosphere in Ringu is one of oppressiveness and claustrophobic gloom that comes off very personal, his loose ends intentionally denied resolution to increase tension in a manner absent from the American film (we Westerners tend to like our stories wrapped with neat with little bows, even if they have to be bloody bows). 

In Japan, the release of the film was met with a level of hysteria akin to that of The Exorcist (1973) in the United States. There have been claims that the apartment used in the film for Reiko's home is actually haunted, Ringu themed tours took place in the building for years, and there is now a theme park based on the original movie, as well as two sequels, a prequel, two remakes (one American, one Korean), and a host of pan-Asian clones that are mostly formula pieces parading an endless succession of wraith-like girls in long black hair and pallid features. Of these knockoffs I'd say that One Missed Call (2003) might be the only way worth checking out for the awesome set piece during the exorcism scene.

As we move into October and the wind grows nastier and the leaves fall faster and you want to relive some old chills, I'd start off with The Ring. And if you want to take it a step further and start your October off with something spine-tingling from the get go, hunt down a copy of Ringu. You know, just give yourself about a week's time to set things in order afterwards...

The Ring           

5-Totally Terrifying                                                                                           

4-Crazy Creepy                                                                                                   

3-Fairly Frightening                                                                                     

2-Slightly Scary

1-Hardly Horror

Ringu

5-Totally Terrifying

4-Crazy Creepy

3-Fairly Frightening

2-Slightly Scary

1-Hardly Horror

Why Horror?

A sweltering high summer afternoon is not livened up by opening the lid of a steamy trash can and sucking in a waft of the days-old meat, wrinkly fruits and vegetables, and all those other noxious, unrecognizable clumps of food stewing in the garbage can. Rummaging around in hospital waste baskets is generally not one's idea of a good time. And yet, we are drawn to the horror film, the play of sights and sounds that ordinarily repulses and disgusts us. Why?

For all the disquiet, displeasure, and distress that is imbued in the very nature of the horror film, fans of the genre consistently cite their pleasure at being taken on these visual tours of the macabre. Perhaps this has to do with the fact that even though horror is the only genre (other than pornography) to be denied true, mainstream respect, it is inherently special, and can achieve reactions in its viewers that are lost in the world of musicals, westerns, and rom-coms. 

Horror is all about the repressed. As one can learn from Freud, basic repression is healthy, universal and necessary to the human condition. It is what allows us to transcend from our animal capabilities, that uncoordinated nature of screaming and convulsing, to be a conscious human being. Self-control, the development of thought and memory, the ability to accept the postponement of gratification, and the capacity to recognize and have consideration for other people are all positive outcomes of basic repression of those baser instincts.

But when repression goes too far, when societal conditioning takes hold and forces us (collectively) into monogamous, heterosexual, male, middle-class, working capitalists, then  there is a danger that arises to those who cannot or will not conform, those who then take on the role of "the Other."

Freud was aware, and worried, about a civilization he felt was suffering under the burden of  an insupportable amount of repression. He was also astute in realizing that whatever escaped repression, "the Other," would face oppression from more active, external forces. What then becomes repressed, Other-fied, and oppressed in our culture? 

• Creative sexuality (this fear that one's sexuality will not be sufficiently fulfilled by a heterosexual, monogamous relationship centering around procreation) 
• Bi- and homosexuality (bisexuality being a direct affront to the romantic myth of "the one right person" and homosexuality a threat to the "norm" of restricted sexuality for means of reproduction) 
• Female sexuality/drive (think of how the dominant images of women in our culture are male-created and controlled in order to deny women their independence or sexuality. Assertive, active, and aggressive women are labeled as being a "bitch." Men project their own repressed femininity onto women in order to disown it as inferior--to be called "unmanly," a.k.a. like a woman, is the ultimate insult)
• The poor (myths of working class squalor, immorality, and perversion)
• Other cultures (who can be simultaneously exoticized and eroticized, savagely bestial, and charmingly servile all at once, but never equal)
• Ethic groups within one's own culture (the dominant societal view holds that either ethnic communities should keep to their ghettos and out of the way with their "otherness," or behave exactly as society dictates aside from the "unfortunate" difference of skin color)
• Alternative political ideologies (think of Marxist socialism, so closely linked with Stalinism and practically eradicated from the American education system, yet the connection is essentially the same as confusing the teachings of Jesus Christ with the policies of the Spanish Inquisition)
• Children (the segment of the population lacking the most rights and space for a voice, and yet on whom almost all decisions are made on their behalf. A great deal of fear revolves around the child--fear of their access to information, of exposure, their burgeoning sexuality, the fear of being able to protect and/or control the child until "adulthood," etc.)

You get the picture, and can probably think of a few other examples yourself. And so it is these Others that the horror film affixes itself with, exploring and delving into the collective fears of our Western culture by turning "the Other" into "the Monster." When looking through this lens, it's easy to see the evidence:

• Female Sexuality. From the early days of modern horror, Kenton's Island of Lost Souls (1932) and Jacques Tourneur's Cat People (1942)--which started the long tradition of women being associated with felines in horror films that can be traced all the way up to Alien (1979) and beyond-- among them, the sensual and sexual woman has been either a monstrous threat or in direct danger because of her blatant eroticism. Brian De Palma's Sisters (1973) is a good study of the oppression of women in a patriarchal culture.
• The Poor. There's a reason Frankenstein didn't dress his Monster in a top hat, white tie, and tails and instead chose laborer's clothes. We also have the monstrous, retired-but-still-working slaughterhouse workers of The Texas Chain Saw Massacre (1974), the underprivileged Satanic followers in Race with the Devil (1975), the laboring revolutionary battalion of Assault on Precinct 13 (1976), and the voodoo doctors of the Haitian slums in Serpent and the Rainbow (1988), among countless others.

                                                                         

Boris Karloff as the shoddily-dressed 

Frankenstein Monster in 

James Whale's Frankenstein (1931)

• Other Cultures. In the early days of the horror film, particularly during the 1930's, the Monster was almost invariably a foreign agent who threatened domestic, Anglo-European tranquility, the thick-accented Count of Dracula (1931), the aforementioned Monster in Frankenstein, the resurrected Imhotep in The Mummy (1932), who terrorizes a gaggle of wealthy British archaeologists. 
• Ethnic Groups. Diabolic possession and ritualistic child murder are linked with Puerto Ricans and African Americans in The Possession of Joel Delaney (1972) and The Believers (1987), respectively. Black, urban terror manifests itself in the primary setting and title character in Bernard Rose's Candyman (1992). 

Tony Todd as urban-legend-come-to-life Candyman (1992)

• Alternative Political Ideologies. The science fiction/horror mashups of the 1950's, Attack of the 50 Foot Woman (1958), It Came from Beneath the Sea (1955), and even Creature from the Black Lagoon (1954),  are generally regarded as being concerned with the perceived Communist threat and nuclear fallout. 
• "Other" Sexuality. Some implicit repression of homosexuality can be claimed in regards to F.W. Murnau's classic German Expressionist film Nosferatu (1922), but there are also interesting explorations of homophobia masked as other fears in a number of vampire films (the fear of "tainted" blood exchanged through intimate contact), like Joel Schumacher's The Lost Boys (1987) and slasher films such as A Nightmare on Elm Street 2: Freddy's Revenge (1985), in which Freddy seeks to "be inside" a teenage boy in order to gain "release" from the dream world.
• Children. We can probably thank Rosemary's Baby (1968) for kickstarting the trend of unsettling children acting as the Monster or the vehicle of evil in horror films such as The Exorcist (1973), The Omen (1976), It's Alive (1974), Children of the Corn (1984), and a slew of other movies, plus the chilling opening of John Carpenter's masterful Halloween (1978).

Harvey Spencer Stevens as Antichrist Damien Thorn in The Omen (1976)

Yes, the horror film violates the social norm in a unique and complex way unknown to other film genres. In a way, horror examines, comments upon, and forces us to question the values and social standings of our culture in ways that even dramas and great epics cannot. What does it mean when the Monster is so closely embodied with the Other and threatens "normality" in a horror film? What does it mean if the Monster succeeds? And what if the Monster is vanquished? Is this an affirmation of traditional, patriarchal values? Or a social comment on continued oppression in our culture?

"Why Horror?" becomes a convoluted question in this sense, in that horror is collectively asking us, "why are you afraid of this? And not this? What does that say about you? About your society?" If all you've ever considered horror films to be is cheap thrills, you may want to think again. As a genre, it's more intellectually complex than that.

This is not to say that all horror films are artistic masterpieces with a message about society woven through the scenes and that they shouldn't thrill you. In fact, one of the great things about the horror film is that there is a unique kind of tension experienced when watching a scary movie that is alien to the drama or the thriller or the romance movie, a kind of tension that produces gesture and physical reaction--squeezing eyes shut, clenching fists, peeking through fingertips, jumping, shouting, cringing, etc. 

Because, sometimes, horror films are just plain fun, damnit. 

Now doesn't that just "scream" fun?

Since horror is at once the most creative and most formulaic of genres, you can have some great comfortable constants to always rely on and still find hidden gems and new surprises in the most unexpected corners. The adrenaline that accompanies a horror film allows the viewer to sensation seek, to live out those repressed moments of the day where you just wanted to smack your incompetent co-worker across the face, or dump hot soup into that horribly rude customer's lap, or pile drive the asshole who cut you off right before the light. Everyone has rage, despite the fact that it's taboo to admit those surges of violence, and what better way to live them out than through the horror film? I mean, come on, there are worse ways one could blow off steam, and worse addictions one could have...

Besides, the horror film can teach us something, or at least present something to us about the world in which we live, even if we're unaware or not looking for it at the time. Horror films are to adults as fairy tales are to children: a way to warn against danger in familiar places. As with fairy tales, however, there are always layered to be peeled, and the danger may not always be as obvious as we first believe it to be. There is always just one more shadow in the horror film, one more question shrouded in fog, prompting as to look closer at the Monster, that repressed and oppressed "Other" figure, and wonder, and ask why? Seeing if we dare to understand, to probe, and venture further into that pitch-black night full of mysteries and riddles.

Seems fitting that most horror films take place in the dark, doesn't it?