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Posted on August 29, 2019

Monstrous Excess as Access to Horror Cinema

Guest Post

In W. Scott Poole’s excellent monograph, Monsters in America (2011), he charts American history by exploring its monsters, arguing that the former is best understood through the latter (4). As he establishes this thesis in the book’s introduction, Poole provides a deceptively compelling insight as a brief throwaway line; he writes, “A monster is a beast of excess, and monster stories are tales of excess” (xiv).¹ His point here is that monsters defy easy definitions because horror films tend to seek out contradictions and complexities and subvert narrative conventions, reveling in the (bloody) excess of rendering them on screen in the form of a monster and all of the carnage it wreaks.

There is another way to read Poole’s claim, however, that monsters tend to be defined by a characteristic or two that have been taken to the extreme, that have exceeded what society considers normal. Understanding this interpretation of the role that excess plays in the creation of a monster can open up how we make meaning of horror films. Read more

Posted on February 27, 2019

The Babadook and Mad, Queer Grief

Guest Post

When I first watched The Babadook (2014), I did so through semi-closed fingers. I always disliked horror; I jump at most loud noises and my friends know I shouldn’t be allowed within a mile of a haunted house. However, Jennifer Kent introduced me to a genre that experiments with emotions and experiences in ways others simply cannot. I’ve since delved into horror scholarship and I proudly declare “I study scary movies!” when people ask what I do. However, as I started writing on The Babadook, I struggled with most of the material on it, which frequently claimed that the film is really “about” one concept, or that there is some secret interpretation to be discovered.

Posted on January 19, 2019

Have Recent Horror Films Accurately Captured Grief?

Guest Post

From societal issues to internal psychological havoc, horror has historically painted our micro and macro humanistic torments on the big screen. It creates new thruways for an alternative method of confrontation with what troubles us. However, there’s a particularly sinister and damaging emotion that each and every one of us likely has to meet with at some point in our life: grief. And grief hasn’t always been effectively depicted in film. There are tremendously individualized intricacies associated with grief that make it difficult to depict the introspective experience of grief rather than a voyeuristic expression. However, the horror genre is certainly one that has the capability to do so. While the complexities of grief stray far outside of fear, there are plenty who argue that horror should be defined by much more than how much it scares viewers.

Posted on June 11, 2018

Hereditary: Grief and Motherhood

Guest Post

In Danse Macabre (1981), Stephen King’s nonfiction book about the horror genre, he says that if a horror movie is going to work and be memorable, there has to be something beyond spatter, a story that functions on a symbolic level to help us understand our deepest fears. In Hereditary (2018), written and directed by Ari Aster, grief, mental illness, and the challenges of motherhood are the subconscious fears that erupt after the family suffers one loss after another.

The plot and strained family dynamics of Hereditary unfold after the death of the Graham family’s matriarch. The film opens with the obituary of the 78-year old grandmother, who is described by her daughter, Annie (Toni Collette), during the funeral as having been a “very secretive” and “very private woman.” The first 30 minutes of the film focus on how the rest of the family deals with her death. The father, Steve (Gabriel Byrne), initially tries to comfort his wife and family, while the son, Peter (Alex Wolff), spends much of his time getting stoned and going to parties. The daughter, Charlie (Milly Shapiro), who had the closest relationship with the grandmother, asks her mother, “Who’s going to take care of me?” Annie deals with her mother’s death by throwing herself into her work, creating miniature houses for a scheduled art show opening. As the film progresses, the miniatures mirror the events of the film, and the deadline to finish the work only creates added pressure on an already stressed mother.