Growing up, horror was a carefully curated genre in my house. No fiction books and certainly no video games. Movies were only allowed if it was clearly a man in a monster suit. As I grew older I also grew more unsatisfied with this arrangement. Starting in middle school, I took greater and greater risks to smuggle new experiences home from the library in the form of Stephen King as well as more varied horror movies. This just so happened to also be the era of the zombie resurgence, with the slacker nerds of Shaun of the Dead and the mean punk spirit of the Dawn of the Dead remake, both movies I love for different reasons. However, it’s the 2002 outbreak that has stayed chasing after me all these years. Read more
The culture wars in US politics have become fixated on the rural-urban divide ever since rural voters in just the right mix of states elected Donald Trump to the Presidency in 2016, launching a thousand ethnographic think-pieces in big city news outlets about the worldview of small-town white folks who had long been overlooked by mainstream media.
But anxieties about rural America have long animated a certain corner of the US horror tradition, in stories about seemingly wholesome small towns hiding dark secrets behind their façade of normalcy. Or stories of decrepit small towns where the people and communities left behind by globalization and urbanization have turned monstrous and vengeful, at least in horror films. Read more
Director Guillermo del Toro’s 2017 film The Shape of Water was born from a desire to retell the story of The Creature from the Black Lagoon films from the 1950s. Del Toro had always wanted the Gill-man and the human woman he falls for to be romantically together in the end[1]. Getting to such a wishful happy ending required more than just a change to the final outcome. Del Toro’s updated, aquatic “beauty and the beast” inverts much in the Creature narrative, expressing changes in the cultural values and entertainment needs of audiences today. We are no longer expected to fear the monster but to sympathize with him and to desire him. It is the institutions of government and science that are now monstrous. Read more
Horror in the ATL: White Liberals and the Specter of Racism in Atlanta Season 3
Guest PostThe scene opens on a dark lake outside of Atlanta where two fishermen, one white and one black, are finishing up midnight fishing. The black fisherman comments that this area always gave him the creeps, ever since he almost drowned in the lake when he was a kid. “It’s shit water” the white fisherman comments. He goes on to explain that the lake was once a successful, self-governed black town. He clarifies, “A town full of black folk that were almost white.” He goes on to explain that whiteness is just a social construct and that the black town had gotten too close to being white. No matter how successful someone becomes, those in power will never let those deemed inferior to become truly white. The scene crescendos when the white fisherman turns to the black fisherman, revealing that he has no eyes exclaiming, “we’re cursed too.” The black fisherman is then grabbed by dozens of black hands reaching up from the water. The scene ends as he is pulled into the depths below.
The opening scene to season 3 of FX’s Atlanta acts as a thesis statement. Specifically, the scene of two fishermen, one white and one black, sitting on a seemingly peaceful lake hundreds of feet above a forgotten massacre, sets the tone for the entire season. It does not matter how much we try to hide, the specters of racism haunt us. While the entire season is worth commenting on, I will focus on three episodes in particular: S03E1 “Three Slaps,” S03E4 “The Big Payback,” and S03E7 “Trini 2 De Bone.” These three episodes utilize horror to portray white neo-liberals haunted by their own racism. Read more
Horror movie makers sometimes consider religion as a cheap add-on to a plot. Little do they realize that a carefully constructed religion can convey very real fear. The Wicker Tree (2011), spiritual successor to The Wicker Man (1973), demonstrates this distinction clearly.
The Wicker Man, released the same year as The Exorcist, had something in common with that vastly more successful movie. The main theme of both is based on religion out of time. Father Karras doesn’t believe in demons, not in the modern 1970s! Meanwhile, on the island of Summerisle, Sergeant Neil Howie is confronting revivalist pagans who will eventually kill him as a sacrifice to their old gods. Such people hadn’t existed, he assumed, since the days of the Venerable Bede. The seventies were part of the pivot period for religion in horror. Certainly, religion has been part of horror from the very beginning (Dracula and his crucifix, Henry Frankenstein knowing what it feels like to be God), but it was brought to the foreground beginning in 1968 with Rosemary’s Baby. Then The Wicker Man showed that religious plots could be transatlantic. The movie, however, had greater success in the United States than in the United Kingdom.