Part III - Learning to Enjoy the Fear
Or, How I Found that Lovin' Feelin'
The following statement is true: for every truly great horror movie I've seen (and I have seen a lot over the past few years), I have only seen about two or three bad ones, most of them being more mediocre than bad. (Although, to be fair, bad horror films tend to be really bad.) That's a pretty good ratio - better than my ratio for good dramas and comedies; and it blows the pants off my good action movie ratio. Granted, I tend to go off of recommendations or "Best of..." lists, so my criteria simply for watching a horror film are a little more selective than they are for other genres; even then, though, clearly these movies are doing something right. Some of the best filmic experiences I've ever had were watching horror films.
I find this to be the case for a number of reasons. First of all, more often than not watching a horror film is just as much about the experience as it is about the actual characters or story. Take Zack Snyder's Dawn of the Dead, for instance. A pretty good movie, but not exceptional. It's Romero's basic story (a few lowly survivors of a zombie infection hide out in a mall) with a lot more money, better special effects, and a heavy emphasis on gritty realism over slapstick. I think Romero's movie is better overall, though Snyder's is very entertaining in its own right. But the experience? Amazing. The single best audience I've ever watched a movie with. Laughter, gasps, screams, jolts - the movie delivered in exactly the way it should have, and the audience reacted better than Snyder could have hoped (and, frankly, better than he probably deserved - the rest of his career has tried to capture that same "wow" factor).
That's what a horror movie does better than any other type of film - it hits you. How ever they may do it - suspense, surprise, gore - horror movies evoke a much more visceral reaction than any other medium, and that's why I like them so much. A great horror movie utilizes all the weapons in a filmmaker's arsenal: without good acting, we wouldn't believe or invest in what's going on; without good filmmaking (building tension, arousing curiosity, appropriate pacing), we would not be affected in the first place; and without good music or sound, there would be no atmosphere. In short, a great horror film requires more from its filmmakers than other genres, and in my view it delivers more than other genres.
That last paragraph, I imagine, will draw some disagreement. What's so wrong about what I'm saying, though? When you think great dramas or comedies, you think great acting first and foremost; when you think great action, you think great technique and effects; great horror simply combines all those. Surely some think I'm being unfair, biased, simplistic, and perhaps I am to prove my point, but I also genuinely have a stronger visceral response to the horror genre than I do to any other genre. The great ones tap into something deep within you, exploiting fears and desires, conjuring up uneasiness and anxiety - and yet they entertain as well! (If you left feeling all morose and defeated, do you think people would go back year after year?) It's a tough balancing act; tougher than many are willing to admit.
Take a film like Audition - the scariest movie I've ever seen, without question: people will talk about the ending because that's the shocking payoff, but look at the film as a whole... Half of it is a dramedy! The first half - the entire set-up for the terror that follows - is a romantic comedy with tinges of drama... Where it goes from there, of course, is so dark, twisted, sick, and disturbingly plausible that by the time the film finally ends you feel like you have some sort of illness - something that has infected you and left you in a funk, and the only way to overcome it is to take a walk, get your bearings, and remind yourself that it's all just a movie. (Or at least, that's how I felt after. I seriously had to walk it off - nothing has ever affected me so much.) That kind of reaction doesn't come from cheap thrills or careless filmmaking; that comes only from careful execution, planning, and perfect work from all departments. It is a masterpiece, plain and simple.
That's what a horror movie does better than any other type of film - it hits you. How ever they may do it - suspense, surprise, gore - horror movies evoke a much more visceral reaction than any other medium, and that's why I like them so much. A great horror movie utilizes all the weapons in a filmmaker's arsenal: without good acting, we wouldn't believe or invest in what's going on; without good filmmaking (building tension, arousing curiosity, appropriate pacing), we would not be affected in the first place; and without good music or sound, there would be no atmosphere. In short, a great horror film requires more from its filmmakers than other genres, and in my view it delivers more than other genres.
Take a film like Audition - the scariest movie I've ever seen, without question: people will talk about the ending because that's the shocking payoff, but look at the film as a whole... Half of it is a dramedy! The first half - the entire set-up for the terror that follows - is a romantic comedy with tinges of drama... Where it goes from there, of course, is so dark, twisted, sick, and disturbingly plausible that by the time the film finally ends you feel like you have some sort of illness - something that has infected you and left you in a funk, and the only way to overcome it is to take a walk, get your bearings, and remind yourself that it's all just a movie. (Or at least, that's how I felt after. I seriously had to walk it off - nothing has ever affected me so much.) That kind of reaction doesn't come from cheap thrills or careless filmmaking; that comes only from careful execution, planning, and perfect work from all departments. It is a masterpiece, plain and simple.
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