”The best horror films want to rip off the tops of our heads and make us peer within at the suppressed impulses we harbor. They want us to contemplate”The best horror films want to rip off the tops of our heads and make us peer within at the suppressed impulses we harbor. They want us to contemplate a universe in which death, decay, and corruption have a role. The horror genre, despite limitations and cliches, allows us to say things about life we think or believe that we rarely articulate: that innocence is doomed, that retribution is sure, that death is nigh. Sometimes we need to inundate ourselves with the abnormal order to reconceive what constitutes normality. Through horror, we can safely ponder chaos and dissolution. Through it we integrate our darknesses into ourselves. We need the catharsis.”
The first horror movie I watched in the theater was during my senior year in high school in 1984. The movie was A Nightmare on Elm Street, and to my slasher horror virgin mind, the bloody terror of the movie was almost overwhelming. I was too caught up in the plot; every death was like my own death. Every fear exhibited by the actors was manifested as my own. Considering how much I grew to enjoy horror movies in college, I look back a bit sheepishly to think of what a struggle it was for me to stay in my seat for my first real immersion in a bloody slasher film. My girlfriend at the time found the movie thrilling and terrifying. She was having a much better time than I was, and I found myself mesmerized by her facial expressions and the way her body, from the roots of her hair to the curled toes in her shoes, was reacting to the movie. It was certainly cathartic for her, but it was an exhaustive experience for me. I begged off going to the after movie party at someone’s house and went home to sleep. I had a lot to think about, a lot to dream about. I needed to understand and come to grips with my reactions to terror. I realized that Freddy and I were entwined, and I ignored his movies for decades, but he never, ever has left my mind.
The first horror movie I can remember watching on TV was Hitchcock’s The Birds. I must have been about twelve or so. It turned out to be a hugely impactful movie for two reasons. I fell head over heels in love with Tippi Hedren. I had no idea a woman could be that beautiful. I also was absolutely terrified of birds for the next several weeks. As I remember it, it must have been fall or early winter because the trees were bare of leaves and the trees around our house were absolutely, jostling for space, full of blackbirds. I’d like to say they were ravens or crows but were probably just blackbirds. They would caw at me every time I left the safety of my house and burst into flight over my head, splattering the ground and my head and shoulders with slurry shit. I loathed them because they scared me. Besides, look at what the birds did to Tippi Hedren. It took me years to realize it had been Hitchcock doing that to Hedren, and through her terror, Hitchcock terrorized me. Hats off to the lecherous, fat man.
Brad Weismann took me on a tour from the history of horror before film (books) through the silent era and onward to the modern manifestations of horror of the present. His discussions and observations are succinctly shared, and there are a scattershot of movies mentioned in every paragraph. He does not dwell on just the output of the Americans but also takes us through the British Hammer films, the intriguing Japanese and Korean contributions to horror, and the most important films from the rest of the world as well. I was happy to discover that I’d seen many of the films and was just as happy to be scribbling down notes of ones that I’d either forgotten about or never heard of. If you are a connoisseur of horror films or even an amateur new to the game, either way you will enjoy this brisk, insightful commentary on the history of horror.
As an added bonus, which will make this a reference text for the rest of my life, Weismann includes a listing by year of the most influential horror films from 1896 to 2020.
Weismann has some theories about why we like zombie movies.
”Why do we seem to need zombies now? Zombies make great antagonists; soulless, they can be destroyed easily and without any moral qualms. As metaphors, they easily stand for whatever undesirable people the viewer might fantasize about killing without remorse--immigrants, unbelievers, the damned, the diseased. In other words, the superfluous. These designated monsters of America’s psyche are numerous, and constantly shifting toward us.
Zombies also allow us to indulge in the cultural fatalism that usually accompanies the end of empires--America’s, in this instance.”
I have to admit I’ve always had a fascination with zombies, a closet fascination as zombie movies have become more and more popular. Am I really that feral? I had no idea it might be somehow connected to a secret desire to see America fall or that I want to kill groups of people who I don’t agree with or harbor thoughts of disgust for. (The crematoriums would be billowing black smoke like the industrial revolution because I really don’t like many of you. Kidding. Fingers crossed behind my back.) I still need to spend some more time unpacking those concepts. Is Tony Soprano's therapist (those inspirational legs!) available? I’m big on maintaining civilization (mostly to keep my books safe), but also because I don’t have any fantasies about surviving in a post-apocalyptic world even though I’m attracted to those books and movies. What is it about zombies though? I loved World War Z, zombies so fast that Romero declared them non-zombies. Personally, I don’t care what you call them. They scared the shit out of me. I thought Pontypool, 28 Days Later, Night of the Living Dead, Train to Busan, were all fantastic. And who will ever forget Michael Jackson in his Thriller video. Hi, my name is Jeffrey, and I love zombie movies. Yes, this book may have you dealing with some repressed (the author prefers the word suppressed) shit, starting with why do I love horror movies so much?
Weismann offers us some insight that might give your therapist a jump start.
”Horror is an irreplaceable genre in world culture. It’s based in our biology, the fight-or-flight impulse. We seem to need it for a variety of reasons. To artificially recreate the feeling of being reduced to predator or prey. To quench suppressed impulses. To articulate and defuse dread. To express awe and dismay in the face of the incomprehensible universe. To feel the giddy thrill of terror.”
From one giddy horror affictionado to another, pick this one up. Weismann will bring you new appreciation for a genre that used to be for nerds and weirdos, but has somehow made the jump to mainstream viewership.
I want to thank the University of Mississippi Press for providing me with a copy of the book in exchange for an honest review.
Just wanted to notate some of the quotes from this book I particularly enjoyed.
"When you finish a movie, they always forget to call you a car. When yJust wanted to notate some of the quotes from this book I particularly enjoyed.
"When you finish a movie, they always forget to call you a car. When you are starting a movie, everything runs perfectly--town cars, hotel rooms, per diem--but once the film ends they couldn't give a shit."
"I'd forgotten what a kiss was like; I'd forgotten what it wwas like to hold someone who wanted to be held; who wanted you to launch your hnd up under her skirt; who was hpoing you would reach a little bit further; push a little harder; someone who made little noises. Now, I'm smart enough to know that blind pursuit of these kinds of shenanigans doesn't lead you to any kind of authentic, substantive, enlightened existence. I guess I know that. I mean, maybe I know that. Or I should say I had long held that to be true, but in that moment, I would have rather died--had a bullet zip right through my cerebral cortex and my blood splash out onto the asphalt--thn let go of that girl's hand. She felt like an instrument of the Divine."
"I learned quickly of the power, the absolute nuclear power, of the deceit attached to any kind of storytelling."
"I gathered that all my cast mates were weak-minded morons who spent the night online reading about our show. They were not the blue-jumpsuit-fucking Zen monk that I was."
"Shakespeare could do anything with words. You are not more intelligent than he--so don't try to fix his writing. Try to understand it. If the language is clumsy or contradictory--consider why? Every word was deliberately chosen. Trust me."...more
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