How Horror Movies Can Evolve
The following is a really long set of posts that begin asking what horror films are and what get wrong before exploring my two favourite horror films. From there, there is a build toward a question of how horror as a genre may evolve entirely. I hope you enjoy...
A band are trapped in a club.
This film is... fuck me... yeah, it's good. There's a small segment in the middle of the third act where tension is lost slightly and overall this film doesn't do anything incredibly special, but, it is a tremendous feat, an undeniably great picture. What makes this film great is quite simply verisimilitude. The script is squeaky clean. There's nothing about it I doubt, it may not be perfect, but to my mind it's flawless. And with this great script comes brilliant direction. What's more, great makeup, cinematography and CGI. What this all culminates into is a film you truly believe in, can sink into, allow it to lock you in and take you on a thrill ride.
Because this is a recent film I don't want to discuss its narrative. What's more, this is certainly a film that requires no more than the 7 words I used to describe it. If you haven't seen it, make sure you do, and go in blind. Its thrills and poignancy come with you allowing the narrative to take complete control. This means I'm not going to pull apart any deeper meaning to be found in it. I still want to talk about this film though. So, the topic to talk about became apparent to me when thinking of a line to introduce it. I thought of something along the lines of: ... a horror/thriller... but. what's wrong with that, is what the title suggests. Is this film a horror?
Green Room - When Does A Film Start Being A Horror?
Because this is a recent film I don't want to discuss its narrative. What's more, this is certainly a film that requires no more than the 7 words I used to describe it. If you haven't seen it, make sure you do, and go in blind. Its thrills and poignancy come with you allowing the narrative to take complete control. This means I'm not going to pull apart any deeper meaning to be found in it. I still want to talk about this film though. So, the topic to talk about became apparent to me when thinking of a line to introduce it. I thought of something along the lines of: ... a horror/thriller... but. what's wrong with that, is what the title suggests. Is this film a horror?
Here we have 4 great examples of horrors. With The Exorcist we have a representative of the supernatural horror sub genre. With The Shining we also have a supernatural horror film, but a different kind. For me, The Shining represents character driven horror films, things you may put under the title 'psychological thrillers'. With Frankenstein we have the monster movie. And with Halloween the slasher. What all these films have in common is a heightened aspect of fantasy. This is most apparent in the monster and supernatural sub genres. It becomes a little more convoluted with the likes of The Shining as the fantasy is somewhat grounded. Nonetheless, there's a surreal, fantastical or cinematic element to films like The Shining, Repulsion, The Babadook and so on.
Now, with the likes of Halloween, the slasher or crime-horror genre clouds itself. The fundamental goal of this sub genre is to attack the audience through representation, meaning we often see teens as victims. By infusing this sense of reality with an aspect of crime, you can begin to see the film as horrifying, but maybe not a horror. However, with Halloween and films like it there is an element of hard fantasy inherent to the main villain. We are made to believe he or it is not quite human. This adds a monster or supernatural side to the film.
It's looking at these main categories of horror that you can see the genre having roots in fantasy, which makes verisimilitude an enemy of the form. To me, a horror is always a fantasy - to varying degrees, granted. In this respect, films like Psycho can't be horrors. They are thrillers or suspense pictures. Sure, they can be horrifying. But, the genre isn't horrifiers. Horror is an emotion and so stems from two places: imagination and disbelief. To see someone stabbed in front of you, you may not believe what you saw and so be horrified. To feel a shadow creeping over your bed at night will be a product of your mind, but nonetheless you'll also feel horrified. Does this mean in an artistic form where we know everything isn't real, where fantasy is dominant, that verisimilitude brings a horror down to a crime thriller?
If horror films capitalise on imagination, on blatant make-believe, can Green Room be a horror?
I turn this question to you. Have you seen this film? Agreeing that its poignancy comes from its realism, would you call it a horror, or a thriller? And finally, does this matter?
A troubled childhood rife with mental issues materialises in darkness, disappears in light.
We'll start with an overview, then get into spoilers. This is quite a good film, more so, a relatively good film. That is, relative to its genre. Lights Out is a supernatural horror and so we can all presume with quite a lot of confidence that there are going to be tropes, jumps scares, such and so on. You get some of those in this movie, but they're not too bad. The true faults in this movie come down to the director and cinematographer. The look and feel of this film implies that the director and/or cinematographer have a great eye for colour, contemporary neon flash and vibrancy. However, this is a film, as made clear with the title, about darkness. The pivotal reason why darkness is intrinsic to horror is atmosphere. It focuses the eye and is a visual tool for creating ambiguity - a great means of misdirecting, captivating and ultimately scaring an audience. To work with darkness, to create a great atmosphere with visuals, a director and cinematographer need a great eye for tone, not just colour. This allows them to work with shadow, play with the nuanced absence of light, not the spectra of possibility it can provide. The resulting downfall of this is then that this isn't a very atmospheric film, and despite its quite good (nothing spectacular, but with some great moments) acting, it cannot suck you in like it otherwise could. Moreover, the bland look of the film could be detrimental to its slightly comedic moments. I say could because there were idiots in the theatre making sure I knew what moments were supposed to be funny - which ones were scary, which ones were suspenseful, which ones were predictable, which ones they didn't get--you get the point. Nonetheless, I suspect that without the aid of the idiots the comedic moments wouldn't have hit that well, maybe would have seemed like awkward bits of editing and direction. Having said that, one of the strongest aspects of this film was character. No characters were overly cliched, benign and depthless shells. All but the demon antagonist had a strong moments and were in the end quite effective personas to take us through this narrative. It's having said that that we move into...
First things first, Andi Osho. Her stand-up is quite good, her British accent being central to her projected stage presence. Maybe it was just me knowing that, but I didn't buy her American accent. Nonetheless, she put on quite a good performance. I know that's not really a spoiler, but it could cause you to fixate on that when it otherwise might not have, hence, spoiling the film. Anyway, the worst thing about this film, to me, is not probably an issue its target audience would care about. The worst aspect of this movie is that it came so close, but failed at having greater narrative depth with Diana (the ghost thing) being a real person, a mental patient with a half-assed disease and non-existent motivation. The best use of her character would have been for it to be a metaphor - and she/it so nearly was. Diana should have been a symbol of depression much like the Babadook is in The Babadook.
With this we would have a had much stronger characters in Diana and her will being an extrapolated representation of Sophie's mental issues in face of family bonds and already present themes of trust and reclusion. However, this was very clearly avoided despite the writer, quite obviously (maybe accidentally), laying this deeper meaning out across the narrative. Instead of keeping ambiguity around the creature a lot of the film's 70 min run-time is dedicated to exposition around Diana. This is not needed. These scenes should have been taken out with the 'supernatural rules' of Diana being explained by the mother's need for darkness to be hidden from the world, her fears around parental responsibility and loving another man - as well as her daughter and son's fear of becoming like her, but also being trapped with a depressed mother. This would have allowed for more character scenes, but most importantly a better build to the mother's suicide. Her blowing her head off was a borderline strong moment thanks to good acting. But, there was no true tension set up around that, moreover, the direction of the suicide was not at all effective. So, in the end, if this film, if more horror films, took exposition out of their narratives and replaced them with meaning we'd get chance for better character, less jump scares, and more emotive scenes.
Overall, this is a good film as is. I'd be interested in seeing an alternative cut that maybe had some more 'character scenes' (as discussed in the spoilers) which could possibly bring it to the level of The Babadook. But, as is, an ok film, not a bad trip to the pictures.
A young woman, Carole, is left home alone when her sister goes on holiday to face personal inner turmoil, realised.
This is an undeniable classic. Whether you want to call it a horror film or not, it has one of the eeriest atmospheres, some of the strongest sense of direction, pacing and surreal meaning in all of cinema. To get into this meaning, it's easiest to follow along with the narrative as this film is essentially a culmination of events and feelings that cause Carole to break down entirely. In other words, we, like the film, will build up to a climactic idea of why Carole is the way she is. This of course means SPOILERS. If you haven't seen this film, what's wrong with you? Go see it. If you have, well, let's get going. So, we'll start as the film does, with the beginning. The film opens with drums reminiscent of an old movie monster movie, something like King Kong, a simple BOM-BOM, BOM-BOM. This is layered over the crucial image of...
... Carole's eye. This isn't just a haunting image, but the key visual metaphor of the movie. This is all about bodies as a medium between which the outside world interacts with the inner one. Most poignantly, this is a film about how what Carole sees being irrevocably controlled and contorted by memory. With the added monster movie-esque sound track over this metaphor it's clear that something ominous lies within her, that something is going to break out. But, with a pull away, we realise that Carole is at work, and that she's a beautician. This is very interesting for quite a few reasons. Firstly, beauty is all about judgement, about looking at something that's probably imperfect and then trying to fix it. What this means is that Carole wipes mush and slathers paint on old people all day. This job seems to suite Carole as she's clearly very analytical. We later on find out that she has some form of OCD, OCPD or hypochondria. To be fixated with things being 'perfect' in this regard would allow her to fix things, paint nails, push back cuticles, present someone as she'd like to see them as a beautician. This would be a great job, if Carole didn't detest imperfections such as cracks (a very important image we'll come back to later). All this means that she gets to soothe her OCD, but must endure a hypochondriac's nightmare of being around uncleanliness and people. The most important thing about Carole's work though are the people. Most descriptions of this film will describe Carole as androphobic which means she's afraid of men. This is true to a certain extent, but doesn't make complete sense. She's repelled by men as the title suggests, but still has a muted fascination or attraction. This means that being in the beauty parlor all day ensure that she's constantly around women, so she doesn't have to endure the stress of being around men. However, there's a but. And this 'but' is that she makes herself and others beautiful, but that inevitably draws the attention of men. This is her opening and most enduring conflict. It's the image of the eye and the implimence of her work place. She walks a thin line between comfort, discomfort and horror with her convoluted relationship with men and cleanliness. This keeps her in a place that allows her to make the unclean and unkempt better and keeps her away from men, but only momentarily. It's this conflict that stagnates Carole's life. This is why she's often in a trance around others. She's both physically and mentally stuck between the outside world and internal one. Her body and mind seem to be working against her.
It's taking these images at hand that we can move on to a key idea of the film: food. Food is quite simply a tangible object that traverses the distance between the outside and inside worlds of a person (literally). The major importance of food though is that it's a sensory extreme in the opposite direction to eye sight. Taste is the last sensory barrier between you and your environment. You can hear and see things coming from miles away. You can smell things from quite the distance too. These are peripheral senses and so primary, but not really personal. If we stay with smell we can see why. The closer things get, the stronger their smell becomes. This is why it's an important social cue. If you stink, people will keep their distance. But, if you smell nice, you draw people in. Now, with the jump to touch things get even more personal. There are extremely strict social rules for touching. You may shake someone's hand, possibly hug them, possibly kiss them on the cheek if you're not well acquainted, but are meeting (say for the first time). Other than that, physical contact is quite rare between strangers in most places. We save that for friends and loved ones. Take this a step further and you come to the sense of taste, and the mouth. Yeah, this is where things get awkward. Putting your mouth on people is not something we're very adventurous about, especially beyond the lips. This all makes clear the stark difference, in social terms, between the eyes and mouth. Eyes are, in a certain sense, for everyone. The mouth, very few. It's in this regard that you can see food and eating as a strangely sensual thing. Especially with others. Maybe it gives reason as to why cooking for others, giving them food or even going to restaurants together is something inherent to dating. Nonetheless, when you apply this to Repulsion, Carole and this image...
... you get a clear juxtaposition with the previous eye. It's with this that you can recognise Carole's true repulsion is not exactly men, but things getting inside her. As awkward as it sounds, it's true. This will become all the clearer later on. But, before getting to that, it's best we move with the narrative and welcome a few character introductions.
It's with Carole's sister, Helen, that we can dive deeper into social behaviours as touched on before. Carole's sister is the only person she feels comfortable with, she's the only family she seems to have. Combine this with Carole's job, the fact that she only seems kind of comfortable around women, but then throw a boyfriend into the mix and you're bound to run into conflict. Primarily, the sister and boyfriend relationship is an interaction for the film that is in spite of Carole. The boyfriend not only takes Helen away from her, but does so in the most repellent way (to Carole). The question then raised here is of why Carole doesn't just live on her own. The answer is never made explicit, but is implied to be another contradiction of her character. She can't stand people, but needs affection - something only people can supply. It's for this reason that we can recognise that Carole isn't androphobic - she entertains the idea of a boyfriend. Colin and his intentions with Carole are another relationship in spite of her. (I think it's fair to assume all are). But, we can't get into this just yet. To wrap up the film's introduction, it's best to bring together what we've been over with the rabbit. Helen prepares to cook this for herself, boyfriend and sister. This is a social scene that, despite being uncomfortable for Carole, is bearable. However, the boyfriend negates this by taking Helen out himself. Moreover, he marks his place in her home with the razor and tooth brush (in Carole's cup - another reference to the mouth). And to round this off, he sleeps with Helen - quite audibly so. This is everything Carole cannot take, but it's all rounded off with a nice euphemism: 'the minister of health found eels coming from his sink'. A fake news item with sexual implimence that also makes you cringe in disgust. I mean...
The last thing to touch on before moving into the film's second act is the church bells that ring night and day. The nuns that live across the way from Carole are an image of abstinence and purity. We can assume that through Carole's eyes living with only women and not having to interact with many people would be more than satisfactory. The bells are then a reminder of this religious idea of purity and also marriage. The latter is important as Helen's boyfriend is cheating on his wife to be with her. This would sully Carole's view of her, again convoluting the relationship. Now, I can find no reason as to why the nuns or campanologists of the church would ring the bell at midnight. The only grounded reason I could find through a bit of Googling is that they might be practicing. Beyond tangible reasoning, the bells ring at night as a reminder to Carole, Helen and Michael (the boyfriend) that what is going on is wrong. But, again, this is made fun of with Michael suggesting he nuns having a party when the bell is ringing at night. This lets us see a pattern. All of Carole's major conflicts are revised through comedic quips that cite an 'us vs them' idea. It's the extramarital relationship in face of the church, Carole's sexuality in face of her apprehension toward men and Carole's anti-social behaviors and OCPD in face of the need for affection. What has been resoundingly set up here is an external world vs an internal world. Specifically, from Carole's perspective we're talking about things trying to get inside her. trying to pass a personal barrier in metaphorical and physical terms. It's through the first act that we can clearly see this set up to her characters. We understand that she perceives many external forces from food to customers to church bells as a threat.
It should now be transparent what sets Carole into a downward spiral and why. It's the old woman in the cosmetics chair talking to Carole's friend about men.To paraphrase, she says that they are like children. You are to treat them as if you don't give a damn about them as that's what they want. They want to be spanked but then given sweets. This is a culmination of Carole's conflicts considering she just refused to kiss Colin the previous day. She thinks he sees her as playing hard to get - and that that's what he wants. There seems to be no way she can communicate her actual apprehension without leading him on. With her sister gone she is also alone. She's also with an old crone with shit on her face, her lips specifically, who also wants something to eat.
This is freaking Carole the fuck out! Men, food, unsanitary mouths, control is everything Carole can't deal with. And so, she retreats. She goes home, welcoming act 2.
Carol comes home to three things. There's the money, the rabbit and the ringing phone. The money is representative of financial security, of Carole's home with her sister essentially. The rabbit is a symbol of her relationship (and it's rotting). And the phone, yeah, I know, a trope...
... but why? Why is the phone the scariest thing to ring at night, when it's dark and you're alone? Well, there's two things. The fist comes back to senses. If sounds are peripheral sensual cues, then they imply something is coming. And what device better translate that idea than a phone? It takes a distant voice and puts it right up to your ear, leaving you completely unaware as to where it originates from. But, more than this, the phone is a social cue. For Carole it would imply a social exchange is about to be had, whether it's with Colin, the apartment manager, whoever, she probably doesn't look forward to it. This is all payed off when the interaction with the apartment manager does occur - and it doesn't go well.
Now, returning to the rabbit, it's important to echo a previous comment in reference to the outbreak of myxomatosis, as disease that is highly infectious and wiped out approximately 99% of the rabbits in England in the 1950s. Myxomatosis isn't a threat to humans, but serves as a nice metaphor toward the rabbit as a symbol of social interaction (a meal). Carole probably questions if it's diseased, refuses to cook it, but in doing so lets it rot. The same may be said for how she treats her friends and possible boyfriend. She keeps them distant, running the risk of sullying the relationship - and all because she falsely assumed it was infectious. Her conflict is thus a problem of self, of how she perceives the world and her self. In other words:
She assumes that the world around her is twisted, but it turns out that it's really her view of it that is distorted.
It's having gone over all of this that we return to the image of the nuns after Carole smells Michael's vest. This is another reference to both men and senses in juxtaposition to purity. This is rounded off with the image of the old woman across the way with her dog. This is an idea of loneliness and isolation that tempts Carole, but, as smelling Michael's vest implies, Carole's curiosity is growing. And it's for that reason that the scene ends with a crack forming in the wall. What this makes clear is that we are moving int o a different narrative realm. The house is now explicitly representative of Carole herself. It's sanctity becomes her sanctity, it's destruction becomes her destruction. The effects of the old woman's yammerings on Carole are the triggering of multiple fears and indulgences. She is becoming more curious of men as her fear of what they can do intensifies. Moreover, the idea of loneliness, purity through religion and cleanliness go awry. And this is all because Carole's mind is being laced over reality, blinding her to rationality.
Now, it's after picking apart the house itself that we'll be able too fast track through the film. What we simply have to realise is the importance of the numerous trinkets lining the shelves and cupboards of the house. They are seemingly all memorabilia from her childhood. The most important of these items would be the picture:
This is the crux of the film. It's the family Carole has left behind. What we end on is a zoom in...
... that clearly shows some kind of fear or disdain in Carole directed toward what we can assume to be her father. This is implied to be the source of all her fear of men. But, this is not what the final image, the last zoom in captures. We can understand this with the opening 30 mins alone. It's over the course of the remaining narrative that we see the complexity of Carole's condition. This then leaves two things to break down. There's Carole's violent fantasies and then there's the murders. These are intrinsically linked as reactions to one another that call back to the catalysing statement of control given by...
In short, the man that attacks her at night is Carole allowing someone to take complete control and the two murders are her reclaiming that control. She denies sexual advances and responds with violence. Before getting into this, this idea is probably the film's greatest critique. It paints female sexuality as an insistent need to be dominated, a demonised and scary concept even to the woman herself. There are more relevant critiques such as the sounds design (especially dialogue) but we'll stick with this one. This critique is connected to the fact that a man made this film, and that that man is Roman Polanski. So, yeah. But, looking beyond that, I would say that the poignancy of this film comes not with seeing Carole as a woman, as all women, but as a hyperbolised character who cannot get a grip on her perception of the external world in respect to self. Seeing her as this archetypal hypochondriac brings about the core philosophy of the film. It's all about the inner-self being a product of memory and the body being a protective bubble. Again, internal worlds and external worlds. You see this realised best with the murders and the contradictions inherent within them. The first with Colin being left in the bath is clear. It's the repugnancy of men (in Carole's perception) meeting an idea of cleanliness. This scene is supposed to be Collin's chance to be the hero. Something equivalent to the end of Hitch, or any romantic comedy where the guy just won't give up.
This doesn't work with Carole though because she's dealing with the power balance of a relationship. As is implied with the final image, Carole may be the victim of sexual abuse - and as a child. This would seriously convolute the love of a father with, dominance, sexuality and confusion. This gives reason for this:
She has no healthy idea of love and affection. Her killing Micheal is an attempt towards both ending what she feels is an inherently violent act, but also wash her hands (literally) with him. With the murder of the apartment manager, we get a call back to the very beginning with Michael's straight razor. She uses a symbol of external maintenance (link to her being a beautician) an image bound to men and uses it to both destroy a life and save herself. The contradiction in this is bound to the end with Michael carrying Carole out of the home - an apparent hero. This is all in emphasis of Carole's distorted image of the world. It's hard to say if Michael is a nice guy in this film, but maybe he's the only person Helen can be with. If she sustained any abuse like Carole, or experienced a family breaking up, it gives reasoning as to why she'd only find comfort in a destructive relationship.
The core takeaway from the surreal sequences is that the film eventually flips on itself. Not only does Carole withdraw completely from socialising with women, not only does she, as a hypochondriac, end up living in her own filth, but her internal world is put external. The house becomes her anxieties. It cracks, hands break through the walls, it's never a safe place, somewhere men are always trying to invade, church bells ringing on the outside, help too distant. And of course memory is framed for all to see. This leaves Carole a shell of a person, a zombie. All that's left to identify her character is this single image:
A memory. She struggles with so much over the course of the film and for untold reasons. We can infer that food represents social acts, that she is afraid of men, that she has OCD, but for what purpose? What is the message of the film under these circumstances? It hasn't got one, nothing with concrete evidence. The meaning of this film all comes down to an inherently human idea of self. Who are we, but the genes that organised our bodies, the experiences that molded our minds? If we are a product of the external world, of external forces, why are we almost never completely understood by it, by the world around us? We a product of extremities but are neglected by them. left trapped in a cage of self. And that's it, we are trapped. We are vessels of memory, forced to behave by our coded biases, the only sense that manages the internal and external, voiceless...
All in all, Repulsion is a film about insurmountable conflicts that drill away inside us. It's about a sensory disconnect. It gives us so much that means nothing without truly walking in Carole's shoes, without truly knowing her memories. Something we never get to do, and something impossible to do in life.
Arguably, Polanski's greatest film.
Repulsion is a film that has great influence over me as a writer. The proof of the fact is in the previous screenplay-based-series where I also covered this film. (Links here). But, whilst I talked about the psychological distortion of Carole, essentially pulling apart the film's subtextual narrative for the Receptacle Series, here I want to pick up on the form of the story Polanski tells us. In doing such, I want to focus on the final image...
This image not only identifies Carole as a character struggling with a complex past, but transforms the film entirely. It's this image that speaks as something much more than a plot twist or a crucial revelation in the story. We see films transformed across a plethora of films with endings like these...
But, as mentioned, the ending to Repulsion isn't just a mere plot twist, it's not really comparable to many of the films above or those like them. The endings to Fight Club, The Sixth Sense, Dr. Caligari and The Usual Suspects all change the physical spaces of their films. To clarify, once we know Tyler is a projection of The Narrator, we rewatch the film knowing that he talks to himself, that he sabotages his own operations. Once we know who Keyser Söze actually is in The Usual Suspects we look at the interactions of characters differently. The rest becomes obvious from this point. Plot twists are there to act like the punch line of a long and elaborate joke. Take for example this one (which I stole from here)...
What we see here is a slow build to a heightened point. Essentially, we see the same comedic beat repeated three times, only emphasised. In other words, the same joke is told to us over and over and over - a girl is jabbed with a pin, inadvertently answering a teacher's question - but each version of the joke is better than the last. Films with plot twists aren't exactly like this in that they don't repeat themselves in form, but they are incredibly similar in the way they repeat the points they make. For example, all the hints of Keyser's identity throughout the film, or all the scenes with Crowe not knowing he's a ghost in The Sixth Sense, hint at the final reveal, the final point. This means we see both plot twist films and jokes as having very similar rhythms. The audience is emotionally or mentally warmed up before being hit with the final punchline, resulting in shock/laughter. For me, this is a huge distinguishing factor between the likes of Repulsion and the films mentioned. Whilst Repulsion has something you could call a twist ending, it doesn't adhere very strictly to this rhythm. Repulsion doesn't really want to lead you anywhere, it doesn't set up the reveal, neither does it make you feel like there has to be one. The final revelatory image is there not to spark an emotional reaction or the feeling of being duped, the final image is there to solidify the narrative. This concept combined with the next thus defines what kind of 'twist' Repulsion holds.
We've touched on the idea of physical spaces in The Usual Suspects and Fight Club being changed because of the ending. Things such as a film telling us a character was never there or that they weren't who they told us they were is a physical manipulation of space and thus tantamount to a magic trick played out before your face. We know a person with a 'magic pack of cards' is using sleight of hand to fool our eye though. The same thing happens as we're told Tyler was never there in Fight Club - there is a deception. However, there is a cheapness to this trick in cinema. As Méliès teaches us...
... magic on the big screen is astounding at first, but a trick worn tired very quickly. Physical manipulation on a screen is almost a cheat because of editing, because you have tangible control of the film. This is something a street magician doesn't have. A similar thing may be said of films such as Chinatown or Memento. There's a cheapness in being able to use sleight of hand on screen. For this, it's incredibly hard to find films with twist endings that work, that are worth rewatching. In fact, the distinguishing factor for the twist ending films that you watch once or twice for fun and those you watch over and over because they are simply great films is of the physical spaces we've been talking about. The best twist ending movies aren't episodes of Scooby Doo with a nice little unmasking in the end. The best twist ending movies change how you look at intangible things such as the meaning of the film and the relationship between characters. It's this added layer that brings the likes of Fight Club and Memento closer to Repulsion. The twist ending changes the way you look at the film not just in terms of the physical spaces, but the narratives and characters. But, whilst Memento holds commentary on the mind's biases, on its incapacity to deal with the trauma it causes and Fight Club says a lot about the individual's growth (more on that here) the films also strive toward an 'A-HAH' moment. This defines them as films with plot twists as well as narrative twists. We discussed the difference between narrative and plot in the previous post, but to recap, narratives hold plots (a specific sequence of things happening), but overlay artistic devices dependent on the medium - things like character arcs, metaphors, editing, camera movement. With Fight Club we are not only seeing the plot being twisted on its head by the physical space changing (Tyler not being there) but also the narrative being tuned on its elbow by the mental state of the Narrator being revealed as a means of commentating on the plot twist. In other words, the moment of the twist says more about the film overall than just the plot. And because there is much greater complexity in the narrative twist rather than the plot twist, we rewatch the films that have strong ones.
It's here where we come straight back to Repulsion. Repulsion holds one of the most poignant and effective narrative twists. More than this, Repulsion hasn't really got a plot twist - only a narrative one. This is what distinguishes it from the likes of Fight Club, Memento or The Sixth Sense. It focuses on changing the intangible aspects of the film, on imbuing the narrative with meaning, all whilst appealing to a very subtle version of a punchline-chasing format. This produces a complex, evolved kind of cinema that uses an idea of 'meaning' in an astounding way. Because it's my belief that the best films both entertain and have something to say, I'm often faced with a question of where the line is drawn. I love films with symbolism, subtext and metaphors. However, most people don't. For many, the existential themes of a Disney film don't come through - and even when they're explained, they don't count towards much. However, what Polanski teaches us through Repulsion is how to turn the pretentious, artsy side of a film into the entertaining factor. He takes the idea of a twist ending and all the emotive power it can hold, but directs its momentum towards explaining Carole's inner conflicts and the psychological horrors they hold. To me, this is what made my first viewing of this movie so poignant, so revelatory. It demonstrated how to emotionally play the audience as well as mentally challenge them. Moreover, Repulsion presents an artistic challenge. Through its last image, the film demonstrates that it's capable of explaining itself through pure cinema, without words and with one image. The succinctness of this flawed me, the fact that there is so much behind such a simple image made clear the complete control a writer/filmmaker can have over their narrative, not just on physical plot-based terms, but intangible ones too. When you watch the likes of Eraserhead you're left in awe. But, when you watch/read interviews with David Lynch on this film, you're often left somewhat dissatisfied. You see so much depth in his film, but get nothing from him - which can be frustrating. More than this, it can suggest to you that art and artist must remained undefined, that their meaning has to be down to your interpretation, that there was no true conscious drive towards saying something specific. This doesn't make films such as Eraserhead pure splatter paintings; there is a presentation in these movies of something ambiguous and because of this it doesn't always make sense for their meaning/narrative movement to be concrete. Nonetheless, there's something beautiful about a film that can be very artsy, but also conscious.
Film as an art form is in large part all about expression. This is because art is an emotional interaction between artist and audience. An artist feels a certain way and wants to share that with someone else via a medium. The medium between them is art - it is the grounds of communication. What we've just picked up on are two interpretations of this connective tunnel. With Eraserhead we see a leaning towards an idea that this channel between artist and audience mustn't be recognised, that, by leaving the means of communication to its own devices, we can be sure that it works best. In other words, it's because Eraserhead appeals so much towards your own opinions, biases, interpretations, that Lynch can say what he intends - even if that is something he refuses and or finds hard to articulate outside of the medium of film. But, whilst there is this kind of artists, this interpretation of artistic communication, there is an alternative. In films such as Repulsion, I see an artist who wants to be succinct and consciously articulate, I see an artist that means to be expressive, but also finds the fun, the joy, his/her reasoning for being an artist in having control over what they say. There is a complex beauty in this attempt towards conscious filmmaking, one that arises comparisons as cliched as those to Michelangelo's David or Da Vinci's Mona Lisa...
In both pieces we see the fruits of years of work - 3 for the statue of David and 4 for the Mona Lisa. This doesn't imply that art should take an awfully long time to create. The time is merely representative of a conscious effort to produce something great, is representative of a long and arduous struggle to control ones art, to present something intentional. With Repulsion's final image, the great depths it implies, I see a similar struggle to control art, to articulate with knowing precision the intention of your movie. This then brings us further away from narrative twists and devicive cinema and into a much more complex concept of filmic art, however, the basic principal still stands. Through The Sixth Sense, Fight Club, Dr. Caligari and The Usual Suspects, we see an attempt to tell great stories. And the key to telling stories is quite simple - it's change. A story is a sequence of things, it's a journey; it's a movement from A to B, from emotions B to C, from state L to H to X to V - whatever your story dictates. All stories imply some kind of change - even those caught by singular images. The reason why the pivotal picture in Repulsion, Da Vinci's Mona Lisa and Michelangelo's David, can be still items trapped in space without time is because there's an implimence in their being that suggest something beyond themselves. With David we see an idea of beauty, of human form, stature and presence. For this, the stature captivates. With the Mona Lisa, we see the character behind the face that tells something of a story, that begins to imply something more than a blank space. With Carole's childhood picture, we are seeing more than a sullen look, we are seeing her past in juxtaposition to her presence. In this idea, we see story, we see meaning, we see the attraction to art in the implimence of context - that banal imagery or physical presences are attached to something more than themselves, that through them we have stumbled upon a journey. What's most important is that through these windows to journeys we are finding stories, we are finding change through the said idea of context. In such, you can understand how Polanski identifies such a poignant image. He picks up on a crucial idea of change in Carole's life, he expresses how this was her years ago...
... but that this is her now...
What this does is build a story and an interest from the audience that invests them in seeing the film through, to allow their imagination to stretch beyond the physical confines that the art exists in and into the immaterial space it implies. In such we see the purpose of art to an audience as taking them on a journey, as implying some kind of movement from a here to there. Great art such as Repulsion not only takes the audience on the journey from the beauty salon with the spaced-out Carole to the sordid, festering apartment full of Carole's projected fears, but opens up the world of the story and character to the audience. This is what facilitates my writings on the film. I'm lead to discuss the inner workings of Carole's character, her past, the hidden subtext of the narrative by the implied grounds of the story that haven't been physically put to film. That means the journey, the story, given by the film isn't just a simple A to B tantamount to a singular level in a Mario game. This is what a lot of mediocre films are, they see art and story telling as a simplistic here to there, they express little more than a means to an end. What's pivotal is that no matter how flashy you make the film with good acting, great cinematography, a good colour pallet, you are only upping the quality of the graphics card, or at most making the level of the Mario game more difficult. The beauty and evolution of gaming towards open worlds then speaks perfectly to the analogy at hand. Repulsion doesn't have you hit the end of the level or walk into walls, transport back on track when you hit the water. Repulsion leaves the story and world it implies open for you to explore on a temporal and philosophical level. Whilst we can't physically see all inches of Carole's house, talk to her or the characters surrounding her, we can use the given information to understand something larger than that, that there is a two-way conversation between art and artist because the film contextualises itself in relation to ourselves by giving us a premise, by guiding us to see themes and ideas - but on our own terms.
In the end, it's Repulsion that speaks most clearly of what stories can be, of how we can use an idea such as art to articulate an entertaining journey of change, but also a succinct point to an audience. Its final image is then a tangible representation of how you can bring stories into that higher dream space and grip the mic by the stand in preparation for your speech.
Jack Torrance takes a job as the caretaker of The Overlook Hotel through isolated winter months, bringing with him his wife and young son.
The Shining is a masterpiece. This is one of my favourite films of all time. This is one of the greatest films ever made. This is the best horror film ever made. But, this is not a flawless, through-and-through, perfect picture. Most importantly, this is not the movie Room 237 paints it out to be...
Room 237 is part interesting, part nonsense, part insanity. Ultimately, it does not reflect a true reading of this film as it presents itself. This is what I want to do today: both demonstrate why this is such a great film, and also what it means with an honest, taken-as-given analysis. Staying with Room 237 a moment, what we have here is a documentary tantamount to bad reality TV. It's intriguing, but in a way you feel probably isn't too good for your mental dexterity. More than this, Room 237 is primarily a collection of poor reviews or looks in on a film. You have obsessive fanatics of this film that zoom waaaaay to far into tiny details which ultimately does nothing more than trivialise Kubrick's ingenuity, talent, craft and artistry, making it not just pretentious to say he's a genius, but almost laughable. Then you also have those who pick up interesting details (like the reference to Native Indians) but cannot demonstrate the purpose of that throughout the narrative. This has always been something that has tugged at the fibres of my filmic pretension and geekness. It's fine to analyse the details of a film, to zoom into scenes, moments, seconds, but, each frame cannot be treated as an individual painting. Each frame must been seen as a segment of a collage. If you wanted to, you could make a claim for this film being racist against blacks or Native Americans because of certain designs on clothing, on the walls, the use of 'nigger' and of killing the only black guy. If you wanted to, you could use this film as evidence for the moon landings being faked by Kubrick (I know). If you wanted to, you could see this movie as being misogynist because of the way Wendy is treated by Jack, how she's given responsibilities in the kitchen and how women are generally the targets of a lot of violence. If you really wanted to, you could see this movie as a whole lot of things, and I suppose that's part of what makes it great: its ambiguity, its flexibility, its resounding accessibility. But, to judge a film you must take into account each scene, each moment, see how they interact and so hear how the film as a whole speaks to you. This is film analysis. It's not making a case for a sneaking suspicion you have, or a scene you thought pushed the mark too far. It's discovery and then the articulation of what you've discovered. It's here that you then make your case. The film provides your agenda, you don't bring it into the movie. That's said, let's get into why this film is so often seen as one of the greats.
I've often had a hard time seeing what people mean when they say a film is a masterpiece or is great. This happens all the time when I look into arts I'm not familiar with (almost all of them). What this says to me is that I just don't get what I'm looking at most of the time. However, I've loved film for a long time, but haven't always been able to see what people mean by great, or even form my own opinion on their view or the film itself. This is simply something you have to develop, meaning seeing greatness is something you have to learn how to do. That sounds stupid and elitist, but that's not what I mean for it to be. What I'm trying to get across is that greatness needs to be pointed out, made clear and precisely demonstrated - something hard to do but also gain access to--largely because 'great' is a word thrown around all to easily (myself being a huge culprit of this). Either way, what makes The Shining great, what makes any film great, is that it both excels in many of its cinematic elements and maintains an irrevocable quality over time and as a cohesive piece of art. 'Cinematic elements' are varied and vast, bringing together a huge skill-set of sometimes hundreds or thousands of people, stretching through numerous art forms. The most obvious elements of cinema though are directing, acting, editing, writing and sound design. A great film excels in all of these elements, but to varying degrees. This is because perfection is not a tangible thing, and the judgment of what is great is ultimately something not determined by a film's many individual parts (something we'll come to in a moment). So, The Shining excels most in the fields of direction, writing and editing. I love the sound design, but it is a little too blatant and emotive at times as well as repetitive. This cheapens the experience as it takes you out of the movie slightly instead of drawing you into the narrative and supporting the meaning of the film. I also love Jack Nicholson's performance, but, it's a little over the top at times, moreover, the acting overall isn't amazing (though very good, great in parts). Again, this cheapens the experience, but it also reduces verisimilitude which will add further detriment to the immersive quality of the film as well as diminish character work. On the note of character work, we're going to have to touch on Stephen King's novel. King has criticised this film quite openly on the basis of bad character work. Firstly, I haven't read the book. Secondly, this is a distinguished piece of work that has since defined itself from the novel, leaving the point of comparison rather useless. Thirdly, for reasons we'll get into later, the characterisation in this film is there to support the narrative. So to get along as quick as possible, let's move onto what's great about The Shining and take a look at direction.
Kubrick's style is something you could write a book about. But, in respect to The Shining, what is so exceptional about it is the regimented framing and fluid movement. The cinematography, blocking (where actors sit, stand, move) and framing work together to produce a beautiful, life-like look that is very open to technical analysis. And it's for this reason that The Shining is a film I can return to time and time again. I love the 'sit down and talk' scenes. These are the scenes that are often said to be the best way to judge a director's worth. If you give a director a huge set-piece, a whole lot of CGI, a magnificent landscape, or even phenomenal actors, what they capture is something that wants to be seen, that in some ways speaks for itself. To understand what I mean you simply have to consider something like the end battle of The Avengers or an action scene from Indiana Jones happening before your eyes, or in a YouTube video. Just seeing aliens, Captain America, Hulk smash or Indiana run from huge boulders, fight atop moving tanks, shoot unsuspecting sword-wielding enemies, is enough, and whilst direction can add a lot to this, there is a strong basis of amazement that leaves a lot of a director's job down to simply not distracting the audience from the imagery. The same goes for a great bit of acting, writing or artwork. You could otherwise just listen to, read or look at these things despite their presentation. When it comes to simple talks at a table good acting is key, but what elevates something like the opening to Pulp Fiction or Inglorious Basterds, the majority of 12 Angry Men or Who's Afraid Of Virginia Woolf, the monologues in There Will Be Blood, the central dramatic set-piece of Fury or Psycho, above a filmed podcast, a YouTube video or a play is direction. What this demonstrates is something I've already touched on a few times and that is the importance of immersion. The individual elements of a film (acting, writing, editing, direction, sound design) are there to ensure you are having a good time, are there to put you in that suspended place just above reality, but below a dream, are there to draw you in and hold your attention. This is a huge qualifying factor of a mediocre, good or great film. They have to entertain or draw you in. With the simple 'talk at a table' scene what you have is a segment of your story that is usually something you need, not really want - it is ultimate something your audience is not often looking to be entertained by. But, Kubrick holds long and (on paper) kind of meh conversations over long stretches with minimal acting and little movement by setting down cinematic poetry. By that I mean to reference what Scorsese calls cinematic language, and this term describes the means by which a camera angle can tell you something in the same respect these typed squiggles do. In other words, during the table scenes Kubrick not only manages to hold our attention, but say an awful lot with the positioning of his camera.
With the last sentence I leave an open end of analysis/explanation as going through scenes frame-by-frame would take a long time in what is already going to be a long essay. Nonetheless, it's the combination of editing and great camera work that truly suck you into the film, but are also the source of a lot of rewatches, rewinds and obsession. That is to say, the camera work in this film demonstrates what cinema is: it is art made accessible, but art that retains the capacity to say a lot. The last thing that makes this movie great is the writing. This encompasses plotting, character work, dialogue, such and so on. You can then break these elements down further to assess them, and whilst the writing of this film isn't flawless, it is great. It's actually the writing of this film that makes it truly great to me as how a screenplay materialises on screen is my favourite thing about movies. But, before moving onto this I must conclude the point of parts and wholes. Elements of a movie can vary in their strength, but the quality of a picture must be judged over time, and with the movie seen as a singular composite of numerous arts. This comes down to what a film is and how we see and/or analyse them. Films, as repeated many times over, are there to entertain and draw us in for an hour or two. It then makes no sense for you to be ignoring or fixating on fractions of the film before judgement. You must see it in full and be paying attention to everything for your view to have any veracity. Moreover, a film explains itself. This is why film analysis is the articulation of what has already been said by a film. The purpose of analysis is to reflect overall meaning that some may miss, but also provide opportunity for the film to flourish in the themes it holds and the questions it asks us. In the end, a great film does a lot - a lot of impressive, astounding, interesting... things. Those things remain, in part, undefined, as a great film (given the needed approach or perspective) makes its own rules and plays by them like no other. The Shining takes the idea of book adaptations, makes its own rules of approach and surpasses the novel. The Shining also mesmerises, captivates, draws in obsessives, fanatics and weirdos. The Shining defines itself as the greatest horror film ever by being unlike any other, by being strictly irreplicable.
Ok, to delve into my favourite aspect of what makes this film great we come to the writing and in turn the meaning of this behemoth. This is a film entirely about destructive familial relations, it is about domestic abuse, child abuse and self-abuse. To see this you have to look straight to the aspects of this movie that are so easily looked past. The central performance of Jack, the constant build to the moment he's smashing down doors with the axe, pushing his face through the whole in the door to taunt 'Here's Johnny!' all detracts from the supernatural foresight of Danny, Hallorann and the ghosts Jack talks to - these are the most important aspects of this movie. That's not even mentioning the final image...
To understand how Jack is somehow in a ball in 1921, you have to understand what The Shining actually is. The Shining is the ability to see things that have happened or may happen that are demonstrated by the film to be a looming threat. This isn't strictly true though as Hallorann tells us. He was able to talk to his Grandmother, for hours on end, when he was a young boy. What's more, he talks to Danny. The Shining is then two things. It's the ability to see danger, but also communicate. To understand why Danny and possibly Hallorann have The Shining you only need to look to these scenes...
It's Jack talking to Lloyd that reveals the central elements of his character. Firstly, he tells the story of his breaking Danny's arm. Secondly, he hints at possible alcoholism with 'the hair of the dog that bit me' and Llyod handing him whiskey. What is implied here is that Jack, despite trying to be a good father, snaps at times. It's his relationship with Wendy that makes this most clear. And it's here we need to come back to character work. Nicholson injects a lot of needed life into a very subtle film. Like in Full Metal Jacket, Kubrick risks seemingly bland, even bad performances for faux interactions between characters to imply satire and an underlying lie.
With Jack and Wendy in the car, in the bedroom or talking on the phone you can sense an utter disconnect masquerading as shitty writing and terrible performances. It's knowing how much hatred for Wendy Jack is hiding that makes these scenes work. What looks like bad acting is bad acting, but on Jack Torrance's behalf, not Jack Nicholson's. Nicholson portrays a miserable husband who feels stuck in a relationship with the unthinkably oblivious Wendy. This is actually the aspect of character work that makes little sense. Wendy is never shown to pick up on Jack's disdain for her (not until it's too late). This may be because she fears Jack (due to his stressed/drunken and possibly violent history) and is putting on as much as of a show for him as he is for her, however, this is hard to find evidence for, leaving ambiguity a downfall in writing. In other words, her character is ultimately left a slightly tangential element of this film left largely unexplored. Nonetheless, the key takeaway from Jack's past and his relationship with his wife is that he is a conflicted, possibly abusive husband and father. Knowing this we can come back to what The Shining actually is. For Danny, The Shining represents an ability to reach out for help. This is made clear in early scenes with him talking in the mirror and with later warnings with the twins - but let's not jump ahead of ourselves. Staying with the opening act, there's an extended cut of this film that includes a small scene with a doctor coming to see Danny (who has been sick) and also one with the doctor talking to Wendy about Jack breaking his arm a few months before hand (something Wendy defends Jack on). This scene brings together the outside world and the inner family circle on the theme of abuse. This also happens with Hallorann interfering - and doesn't end well.
But, what is present in both of these scenes is the idea of Shining. Danny called out for help to Hallorann, but couldn't when alone with his mother or the doctor. The Shining is then a metaphorical means of presenting a child's (person's) ability to call out for help. This implies some interesting things about Hallorann who can also Shine and maybe lived with his Grandmother. It's possible that he had an abusive past, giving reason for his (alleged, but denied) fear of room 237 and why he would have lived with his Grandmother, not his parents. However, we cannot jump to that just yet.
So, Hallorann and Danny obviously have The Shining, but, what went over my head for years was that Jack does too. This isn't the same kind of Shining that Halloran and Danny have as he can't communicate like them, but it is what lets him see ghosts, just as it does Danny. Before delving too deep into that, we also need to recognise something implied about Jack's past. It is possible that his parents abused him, giving reason for his need for seclusion, his incredibly distant facade and ultimately his final break. So, with The Shining we can see that Danny, Jack and Hallorann struggle or have struggled with needing help, but not having a voice to call for it. But, The Shining is not just a means of communicating - as implied with Danny's violent visions and Jack's interactions with a ghostly world. The Shining is also a means of reflection. With Danny and Hallorann this reflection triggers foresight of possible danger. For Jack, we see something different. The best way to see The Shining is under the Freudian interpretation of a dream. Bad dreams or nightmares are a means of a dreamer working through fears. But, dreams are also a means of wish fulfillment. So, for Danny and Hallerann, The Shining provides warning based on their fears and anxieties relating to abuse (like a nightmare). For Jack we see a much more masochistic means of dealing with past trauma. In short, Jack seeing Lloyd is a very dangerous means of Jack accepting his violent side and embracing an abusive childhood/history - some kind of self-destructive wish fulfillment or a means of reversing repression. This is what will eventually explain the last image of the film and open up the true struggles of characters throughout the narrative. To get into Jack's visions we have to recognise what The Outlook Hotel is and so recognise what Jack's role as the caretaker means. As we all know, The Outlook is a fundamental symbol of isolation. And it's the barren seclusion that The Outlook provides that forces the singular families within to the edges of their psyches, sometimes resulting in tragedy.
The Outlook then represents a family home blown up and made to seem looming. What this emphasises Jack's role as caretaker to be resultantly becomes unbearable. In short, his responsibilities, not only for the hotel, but his family force him into deep waters of introspection that have him come out full of hatred. The Outlook Hotel forces deep soul searching, and for the deeply conflicted men at the heads of some of these families, the isolation of self leads to implosion. This then bunches Jack in with Grady, the father who killed the twins - and gives reason why Grady and Jack have an exchange about who is actually the caretaker of the hotel. What this allows us to do is see 'the caretaker' as an archetype. He is a man at the head of a family that is deeply conflicted and profoundly miserable. With Jack we see the conflict in the way he's pulled in two directions, both by his son and wife, but also by his job as the caretaker and aspirations of being a writer. In short, he loves his son and maybe loves writing, he doesn't seem to like the work he's got, or the wife he lives for. His dissonance on who he is to the family grows with him believing he cannot express himself, he cannot live for himself and is wasting his time. We see this in this scene...
... and also in the infamous lines...
Lights Out - Horror Exposited
A troubled childhood rife with mental issues materialises in darkness, disappears in light.
**SPOILERS**
**SPOILERS OVER***
Repulsion - Internality Complex
It's taking these images at hand that we can move on to a key idea of the film: food. Food is quite simply a tangible object that traverses the distance between the outside and inside worlds of a person (literally). The major importance of food though is that it's a sensory extreme in the opposite direction to eye sight. Taste is the last sensory barrier between you and your environment. You can hear and see things coming from miles away. You can smell things from quite the distance too. These are peripheral senses and so primary, but not really personal. If we stay with smell we can see why. The closer things get, the stronger their smell becomes. This is why it's an important social cue. If you stink, people will keep their distance. But, if you smell nice, you draw people in. Now, with the jump to touch things get even more personal. There are extremely strict social rules for touching. You may shake someone's hand, possibly hug them, possibly kiss them on the cheek if you're not well acquainted, but are meeting (say for the first time). Other than that, physical contact is quite rare between strangers in most places. We save that for friends and loved ones. Take this a step further and you come to the sense of taste, and the mouth. Yeah, this is where things get awkward. Putting your mouth on people is not something we're very adventurous about, especially beyond the lips. This all makes clear the stark difference, in social terms, between the eyes and mouth. Eyes are, in a certain sense, for everyone. The mouth, very few. It's in this regard that you can see food and eating as a strangely sensual thing. Especially with others. Maybe it gives reason as to why cooking for others, giving them food or even going to restaurants together is something inherent to dating. Nonetheless, when you apply this to Repulsion, Carole and this image...
It's with Carole's sister, Helen, that we can dive deeper into social behaviours as touched on before. Carole's sister is the only person she feels comfortable with, she's the only family she seems to have. Combine this with Carole's job, the fact that she only seems kind of comfortable around women, but then throw a boyfriend into the mix and you're bound to run into conflict. Primarily, the sister and boyfriend relationship is an interaction for the film that is in spite of Carole. The boyfriend not only takes Helen away from her, but does so in the most repellent way (to Carole). The question then raised here is of why Carole doesn't just live on her own. The answer is never made explicit, but is implied to be another contradiction of her character. She can't stand people, but needs affection - something only people can supply. It's for this reason that we can recognise that Carole isn't androphobic - she entertains the idea of a boyfriend. Colin and his intentions with Carole are another relationship in spite of her. (I think it's fair to assume all are). But, we can't get into this just yet. To wrap up the film's introduction, it's best to bring together what we've been over with the rabbit. Helen prepares to cook this for herself, boyfriend and sister. This is a social scene that, despite being uncomfortable for Carole, is bearable. However, the boyfriend negates this by taking Helen out himself. Moreover, he marks his place in her home with the razor and tooth brush (in Carole's cup - another reference to the mouth). And to round this off, he sleeps with Helen - quite audibly so. This is everything Carole cannot take, but it's all rounded off with a nice euphemism: 'the minister of health found eels coming from his sink'. A fake news item with sexual implimence that also makes you cringe in disgust. I mean...
It should now be transparent what sets Carole into a downward spiral and why. It's the old woman in the cosmetics chair talking to Carole's friend about men.To paraphrase, she says that they are like children. You are to treat them as if you don't give a damn about them as that's what they want. They want to be spanked but then given sweets. This is a culmination of Carole's conflicts considering she just refused to kiss Colin the previous day. She thinks he sees her as playing hard to get - and that that's what he wants. There seems to be no way she can communicate her actual apprehension without leading him on. With her sister gone she is also alone. She's also with an old crone with shit on her face, her lips specifically, who also wants something to eat.
This is freaking Carole the fuck out! Men, food, unsanitary mouths, control is everything Carole can't deal with. And so, she retreats. She goes home, welcoming act 2.
Carol comes home to three things. There's the money, the rabbit and the ringing phone. The money is representative of financial security, of Carole's home with her sister essentially. The rabbit is a symbol of her relationship (and it's rotting). And the phone, yeah, I know, a trope...
She assumes that the world around her is twisted, but it turns out that it's really her view of it that is distorted.
It's having gone over all of this that we return to the image of the nuns after Carole smells Michael's vest. This is another reference to both men and senses in juxtaposition to purity. This is rounded off with the image of the old woman across the way with her dog. This is an idea of loneliness and isolation that tempts Carole, but, as smelling Michael's vest implies, Carole's curiosity is growing. And it's for that reason that the scene ends with a crack forming in the wall. What this makes clear is that we are moving int o a different narrative realm. The house is now explicitly representative of Carole herself. It's sanctity becomes her sanctity, it's destruction becomes her destruction. The effects of the old woman's yammerings on Carole are the triggering of multiple fears and indulgences. She is becoming more curious of men as her fear of what they can do intensifies. Moreover, the idea of loneliness, purity through religion and cleanliness go awry. And this is all because Carole's mind is being laced over reality, blinding her to rationality.
Now, it's after picking apart the house itself that we'll be able too fast track through the film. What we simply have to realise is the importance of the numerous trinkets lining the shelves and cupboards of the house. They are seemingly all memorabilia from her childhood. The most important of these items would be the picture:
In short, the man that attacks her at night is Carole allowing someone to take complete control and the two murders are her reclaiming that control. She denies sexual advances and responds with violence. Before getting into this, this idea is probably the film's greatest critique. It paints female sexuality as an insistent need to be dominated, a demonised and scary concept even to the woman herself. There are more relevant critiques such as the sounds design (especially dialogue) but we'll stick with this one. This critique is connected to the fact that a man made this film, and that that man is Roman Polanski. So, yeah. But, looking beyond that, I would say that the poignancy of this film comes not with seeing Carole as a woman, as all women, but as a hyperbolised character who cannot get a grip on her perception of the external world in respect to self. Seeing her as this archetypal hypochondriac brings about the core philosophy of the film. It's all about the inner-self being a product of memory and the body being a protective bubble. Again, internal worlds and external worlds. You see this realised best with the murders and the contradictions inherent within them. The first with Colin being left in the bath is clear. It's the repugnancy of men (in Carole's perception) meeting an idea of cleanliness. This scene is supposed to be Collin's chance to be the hero. Something equivalent to the end of Hitch, or any romantic comedy where the guy just won't give up.
The core takeaway from the surreal sequences is that the film eventually flips on itself. Not only does Carole withdraw completely from socialising with women, not only does she, as a hypochondriac, end up living in her own filth, but her internal world is put external. The house becomes her anxieties. It cracks, hands break through the walls, it's never a safe place, somewhere men are always trying to invade, church bells ringing on the outside, help too distant. And of course memory is framed for all to see. This leaves Carole a shell of a person, a zombie. All that's left to identify her character is this single image:
... perception an idea never truly under our control.
All in all, Repulsion is a film about insurmountable conflicts that drill away inside us. It's about a sensory disconnect. It gives us so much that means nothing without truly walking in Carole's shoes, without truly knowing her memories. Something we never get to do, and something impossible to do in life.
Repulsion - Metamorphic Cinema
Little April was not the best student in Sunday school. Usually she slept through the class. One day the teacher called on her while she was napping, "Tell me, April, who created the universe?" When April didn't stir, little Johnny, a boy seated in the chair behind her, took a pin and jabbed her in the rear. "GOD ALMIGHTY!" shouted April and the teacher said, "Very good" and April fell back asleep. A while later the teacher asked April, "Who is our Lord and Saviour," But, April didn't even stir from her slumber. Once again, Johnny came to the rescue and stuck her again. "JESUS CHRIST!" shouted April and the teacher said, "very good," and April fell back to sleep. Then the teacher asked April a third question. "What did Eve say to Adam after she had her twenty-third child?" And again, Johnny jabbed her with the pin. This time April jumped up and shouted, "IF YOU STICK THAT F*****G THING IN ME ONE MORE TIME, I'LL BREAK IT IN HALF AND STICK IT UP YOUR ARSE!" The Teacher fainted.
We've touched on the idea of physical spaces in The Usual Suspects and Fight Club being changed because of the ending. Things such as a film telling us a character was never there or that they weren't who they told us they were is a physical manipulation of space and thus tantamount to a magic trick played out before your face. We know a person with a 'magic pack of cards' is using sleight of hand to fool our eye though. The same thing happens as we're told Tyler was never there in Fight Club - there is a deception. However, there is a cheapness to this trick in cinema. As Méliès teaches us...
It's here where we come straight back to Repulsion. Repulsion holds one of the most poignant and effective narrative twists. More than this, Repulsion hasn't really got a plot twist - only a narrative one. This is what distinguishes it from the likes of Fight Club, Memento or The Sixth Sense. It focuses on changing the intangible aspects of the film, on imbuing the narrative with meaning, all whilst appealing to a very subtle version of a punchline-chasing format. This produces a complex, evolved kind of cinema that uses an idea of 'meaning' in an astounding way. Because it's my belief that the best films both entertain and have something to say, I'm often faced with a question of where the line is drawn. I love films with symbolism, subtext and metaphors. However, most people don't. For many, the existential themes of a Disney film don't come through - and even when they're explained, they don't count towards much. However, what Polanski teaches us through Repulsion is how to turn the pretentious, artsy side of a film into the entertaining factor. He takes the idea of a twist ending and all the emotive power it can hold, but directs its momentum towards explaining Carole's inner conflicts and the psychological horrors they hold. To me, this is what made my first viewing of this movie so poignant, so revelatory. It demonstrated how to emotionally play the audience as well as mentally challenge them. Moreover, Repulsion presents an artistic challenge. Through its last image, the film demonstrates that it's capable of explaining itself through pure cinema, without words and with one image. The succinctness of this flawed me, the fact that there is so much behind such a simple image made clear the complete control a writer/filmmaker can have over their narrative, not just on physical plot-based terms, but intangible ones too. When you watch the likes of Eraserhead you're left in awe. But, when you watch/read interviews with David Lynch on this film, you're often left somewhat dissatisfied. You see so much depth in his film, but get nothing from him - which can be frustrating. More than this, it can suggest to you that art and artist must remained undefined, that their meaning has to be down to your interpretation, that there was no true conscious drive towards saying something specific. This doesn't make films such as Eraserhead pure splatter paintings; there is a presentation in these movies of something ambiguous and because of this it doesn't always make sense for their meaning/narrative movement to be concrete. Nonetheless, there's something beautiful about a film that can be very artsy, but also conscious.
Film as an art form is in large part all about expression. This is because art is an emotional interaction between artist and audience. An artist feels a certain way and wants to share that with someone else via a medium. The medium between them is art - it is the grounds of communication. What we've just picked up on are two interpretations of this connective tunnel. With Eraserhead we see a leaning towards an idea that this channel between artist and audience mustn't be recognised, that, by leaving the means of communication to its own devices, we can be sure that it works best. In other words, it's because Eraserhead appeals so much towards your own opinions, biases, interpretations, that Lynch can say what he intends - even if that is something he refuses and or finds hard to articulate outside of the medium of film. But, whilst there is this kind of artists, this interpretation of artistic communication, there is an alternative. In films such as Repulsion, I see an artist who wants to be succinct and consciously articulate, I see an artist that means to be expressive, but also finds the fun, the joy, his/her reasoning for being an artist in having control over what they say. There is a complex beauty in this attempt towards conscious filmmaking, one that arises comparisons as cliched as those to Michelangelo's David or Da Vinci's Mona Lisa...
In the end, it's Repulsion that speaks most clearly of what stories can be, of how we can use an idea such as art to articulate an entertaining journey of change, but also a succinct point to an audience. Its final image is then a tangible representation of how you can bring stories into that higher dream space and grip the mic by the stand in preparation for your speech.
The Shining - Within The Throes Of Abuse, Destruction And Dysfunction
I've often had a hard time seeing what people mean when they say a film is a masterpiece or is great. This happens all the time when I look into arts I'm not familiar with (almost all of them). What this says to me is that I just don't get what I'm looking at most of the time. However, I've loved film for a long time, but haven't always been able to see what people mean by great, or even form my own opinion on their view or the film itself. This is simply something you have to develop, meaning seeing greatness is something you have to learn how to do. That sounds stupid and elitist, but that's not what I mean for it to be. What I'm trying to get across is that greatness needs to be pointed out, made clear and precisely demonstrated - something hard to do but also gain access to--largely because 'great' is a word thrown around all to easily (myself being a huge culprit of this). Either way, what makes The Shining great, what makes any film great, is that it both excels in many of its cinematic elements and maintains an irrevocable quality over time and as a cohesive piece of art. 'Cinematic elements' are varied and vast, bringing together a huge skill-set of sometimes hundreds or thousands of people, stretching through numerous art forms. The most obvious elements of cinema though are directing, acting, editing, writing and sound design. A great film excels in all of these elements, but to varying degrees. This is because perfection is not a tangible thing, and the judgment of what is great is ultimately something not determined by a film's many individual parts (something we'll come to in a moment). So, The Shining excels most in the fields of direction, writing and editing. I love the sound design, but it is a little too blatant and emotive at times as well as repetitive. This cheapens the experience as it takes you out of the movie slightly instead of drawing you into the narrative and supporting the meaning of the film. I also love Jack Nicholson's performance, but, it's a little over the top at times, moreover, the acting overall isn't amazing (though very good, great in parts). Again, this cheapens the experience, but it also reduces verisimilitude which will add further detriment to the immersive quality of the film as well as diminish character work. On the note of character work, we're going to have to touch on Stephen King's novel. King has criticised this film quite openly on the basis of bad character work. Firstly, I haven't read the book. Secondly, this is a distinguished piece of work that has since defined itself from the novel, leaving the point of comparison rather useless. Thirdly, for reasons we'll get into later, the characterisation in this film is there to support the narrative. So to get along as quick as possible, let's move onto what's great about The Shining and take a look at direction.
Kubrick's style is something you could write a book about. But, in respect to The Shining, what is so exceptional about it is the regimented framing and fluid movement. The cinematography, blocking (where actors sit, stand, move) and framing work together to produce a beautiful, life-like look that is very open to technical analysis. And it's for this reason that The Shining is a film I can return to time and time again. I love the 'sit down and talk' scenes. These are the scenes that are often said to be the best way to judge a director's worth. If you give a director a huge set-piece, a whole lot of CGI, a magnificent landscape, or even phenomenal actors, what they capture is something that wants to be seen, that in some ways speaks for itself. To understand what I mean you simply have to consider something like the end battle of The Avengers or an action scene from Indiana Jones happening before your eyes, or in a YouTube video. Just seeing aliens, Captain America, Hulk smash or Indiana run from huge boulders, fight atop moving tanks, shoot unsuspecting sword-wielding enemies, is enough, and whilst direction can add a lot to this, there is a strong basis of amazement that leaves a lot of a director's job down to simply not distracting the audience from the imagery. The same goes for a great bit of acting, writing or artwork. You could otherwise just listen to, read or look at these things despite their presentation. When it comes to simple talks at a table good acting is key, but what elevates something like the opening to Pulp Fiction or Inglorious Basterds, the majority of 12 Angry Men or Who's Afraid Of Virginia Woolf, the monologues in There Will Be Blood, the central dramatic set-piece of Fury or Psycho, above a filmed podcast, a YouTube video or a play is direction. What this demonstrates is something I've already touched on a few times and that is the importance of immersion. The individual elements of a film (acting, writing, editing, direction, sound design) are there to ensure you are having a good time, are there to put you in that suspended place just above reality, but below a dream, are there to draw you in and hold your attention. This is a huge qualifying factor of a mediocre, good or great film. They have to entertain or draw you in. With the simple 'talk at a table' scene what you have is a segment of your story that is usually something you need, not really want - it is ultimate something your audience is not often looking to be entertained by. But, Kubrick holds long and (on paper) kind of meh conversations over long stretches with minimal acting and little movement by setting down cinematic poetry. By that I mean to reference what Scorsese calls cinematic language, and this term describes the means by which a camera angle can tell you something in the same respect these typed squiggles do. In other words, during the table scenes Kubrick not only manages to hold our attention, but say an awful lot with the positioning of his camera.
With the last sentence I leave an open end of analysis/explanation as going through scenes frame-by-frame would take a long time in what is already going to be a long essay. Nonetheless, it's the combination of editing and great camera work that truly suck you into the film, but are also the source of a lot of rewatches, rewinds and obsession. That is to say, the camera work in this film demonstrates what cinema is: it is art made accessible, but art that retains the capacity to say a lot. The last thing that makes this movie great is the writing. This encompasses plotting, character work, dialogue, such and so on. You can then break these elements down further to assess them, and whilst the writing of this film isn't flawless, it is great. It's actually the writing of this film that makes it truly great to me as how a screenplay materialises on screen is my favourite thing about movies. But, before moving onto this I must conclude the point of parts and wholes. Elements of a movie can vary in their strength, but the quality of a picture must be judged over time, and with the movie seen as a singular composite of numerous arts. This comes down to what a film is and how we see and/or analyse them. Films, as repeated many times over, are there to entertain and draw us in for an hour or two. It then makes no sense for you to be ignoring or fixating on fractions of the film before judgement. You must see it in full and be paying attention to everything for your view to have any veracity. Moreover, a film explains itself. This is why film analysis is the articulation of what has already been said by a film. The purpose of analysis is to reflect overall meaning that some may miss, but also provide opportunity for the film to flourish in the themes it holds and the questions it asks us. In the end, a great film does a lot - a lot of impressive, astounding, interesting... things. Those things remain, in part, undefined, as a great film (given the needed approach or perspective) makes its own rules and plays by them like no other. The Shining takes the idea of book adaptations, makes its own rules of approach and surpasses the novel. The Shining also mesmerises, captivates, draws in obsessives, fanatics and weirdos. The Shining defines itself as the greatest horror film ever by being unlike any other, by being strictly irreplicable.
Ok, to delve into my favourite aspect of what makes this film great we come to the writing and in turn the meaning of this behemoth. This is a film entirely about destructive familial relations, it is about domestic abuse, child abuse and self-abuse. To see this you have to look straight to the aspects of this movie that are so easily looked past. The central performance of Jack, the constant build to the moment he's smashing down doors with the axe, pushing his face through the whole in the door to taunt 'Here's Johnny!' all detracts from the supernatural foresight of Danny, Hallorann and the ghosts Jack talks to - these are the most important aspects of this movie. That's not even mentioning the final image...
So, Hallorann and Danny obviously have The Shining, but, what went over my head for years was that Jack does too. This isn't the same kind of Shining that Halloran and Danny have as he can't communicate like them, but it is what lets him see ghosts, just as it does Danny. Before delving too deep into that, we also need to recognise something implied about Jack's past. It is possible that his parents abused him, giving reason for his need for seclusion, his incredibly distant facade and ultimately his final break. So, with The Shining we can see that Danny, Jack and Hallorann struggle or have struggled with needing help, but not having a voice to call for it. But, The Shining is not just a means of communicating - as implied with Danny's violent visions and Jack's interactions with a ghostly world. The Shining is also a means of reflection. With Danny and Hallorann this reflection triggers foresight of possible danger. For Jack, we see something different. The best way to see The Shining is under the Freudian interpretation of a dream. Bad dreams or nightmares are a means of a dreamer working through fears. But, dreams are also a means of wish fulfillment. So, for Danny and Hallerann, The Shining provides warning based on their fears and anxieties relating to abuse (like a nightmare). For Jack we see a much more masochistic means of dealing with past trauma. In short, Jack seeing Lloyd is a very dangerous means of Jack accepting his violent side and embracing an abusive childhood/history - some kind of self-destructive wish fulfillment or a means of reversing repression. This is what will eventually explain the last image of the film and open up the true struggles of characters throughout the narrative. To get into Jack's visions we have to recognise what The Outlook Hotel is and so recognise what Jack's role as the caretaker means. As we all know, The Outlook is a fundamental symbol of isolation. And it's the barren seclusion that The Outlook provides that forces the singular families within to the edges of their psyches, sometimes resulting in tragedy.
It's here that we're moving towards room 237, so we're going to keep a hold on the dull Jack and his lack of play. Instead, understanding Jack as a conflicted man/father/writer/caretaker/husband we can pull apart why the caretaker is an archetype. The caretaker is a man that finds no joy in his life, not as a father, a husband, not in his work, nor in his art. He is isolated with the ones he loves in a world where he feels unappreciated. This is demonstrated to be a very dangerous figure, one apt to explode. The reasoning why comes back to Jack and his version of The Shining. As said, The Shining is a like a dream, for Jack, some kind of wish fulfillment that is ultimately masochistic. Remembering the implimence of Jack possibly being abused as a child combined with the discussed roles of traditional families and responsibility, we can see why he envisions the 1920s across the hotel. He sees Lloyd, Grady and so on because he sees himself as an archetype, a man built in another time. This then explains the last image as being a critique of the traditional nuclear family. Jack sees himself in a time passed, but displaced hugely:
That's why this image is so important - and takes a leaf out of Polanski's book and his masterpiece, Repulsion, with a picture essentially explaining the narrative. Jack is the centre piece if this image, but his central positioning only isolates him. The crowd around, full of couples and smiles, are a faceless mass that seem to engulf his presence. You even see his wave being held down as to suppress and demean his presence as what we can assume to be the caretaker. Seeing the image in this respect allows us to see Jack as the try-hard weirdo that has no friends, that smiles, but is never really happy. He tries to fit in with the masses, tries to conform, but simply does not fit in.
The constant overshadowing idea of Grady and the crime he committed then lay heavy on the archetype of the caretaker as someone who is inevitably going to break. This is why Jack fits into this picture, why he sees ghosts, why he does their bidding. He not only bends to his own fears of hurting his family...
... but the will of apparent inevitability, of the past dictating the future. It's here where the theory of Jack being abused as a child becomes more poignant. Maybe Jack draw to violence comes from an idea of control, of 'correcting' his wife and kid as once Grady did. This idea may come from a traditional, and rather dysfunctional, idea of family, but maybe Jack's personal experience of family life as a child informed this. If his father used violence to lead and look after his family, why wouldn't Jack? If his father abused him and his mother maybe not just physically, but mentally, why wouldn't Jack? What we have here is a question of self-determinism and environmental-determinism. We cannot infer that just because Jack was abused as a kid that he will abuse his wife and kids. In fact, we can see a struggle within him to keep from this, to hold his family together despite him maybe not loving his wife (even like her slightly) anymore. The questions presented by the metaphorical Shining are then all about the world in respect to the individual.
However, we can't delve into these questions right now. Instead, we need to understand what room 237 actually is. Room 237 is ultimately nothing very interesting, at least, nothing that lives up to the weight the name holds. There is no significance of the numbers pertaining to moon landings. There is no actual significance to the physical room - it's just a designated place in the hotel. I've watched the film dozens of times over and never has anything explaining why room 237 is important as a physical place come up. There is the possible chance that this is where Grady and his family stayed, maybe it's where he killed his wife. But, there is no evidence for this, none at all. For this reason we can only assign room 237 the metaphorical meaning the narrative provides. Room 237 is Jack's suppressed thoughts hidden in his temporary family home. What is most interesting about it is not really what goes on inside (we'll get to that though) but what happens around it. Firstly, we have to look at its introduction through Danny who comes to ask Hallorann about it. What should be clear already is that room 237 is a sexual place...
... to juxtapose that with the distance between Jack and Wendy you should understand what this means:
Jack isn't getting any, and even if he is, it's not with a person that excites him, nor is attractive to him. Bring this back to Danny, and you see his fear of the family being split up, of Jack leaving in pursuit of another woman. Bring this theme of sexuality forward a little to Hallarann, we come across more interesting details...
When confronted by room 237, Hallorann denies he fears it. Combine this with his implied abusive past, the fact that he is alone in his bed (a bachelor) with the huge pictures of nude models and you see his confusing relationship with women. He gets along fine with Wendy, implying he does not fear or get nervous around them - just as he says he doesn't room 237. But, he stays away. Why? Well, maybe Hallorann was almost the caretaker archetype (giving reason for his Shining) but never committed to traditional family life as that was not for him. He remains a bachelor for his own sake, and maybe because he doesn't think he'd be a good father. This is the life that Jack maybe should be living: alone in his room by day, typing away, nude pictures hung around for him to muse upon, and then by night, he puts the typewriter away and goes out to sling some dick, get some free love...
Ok, this is not the time or place for an absurd theory, but the link to Easy Rider is an interesting one. Nonetheless, the commentary provided here with Hallorann and Jack is not that all men should be bachelors, just that some aren't suited for family life - Jack being a key example of this. So, getting closer to actually going inside room 237 we get a thematic build culminating with the accusation of Jack abusing Danny...
It's this scene that solidifies the idea of abuse and The Shining being linked because of all the violent and supernatural snowballing that occurs as a result of this scene. Danny claims he is hurt by the woman in room 237. In other words, he foresees Jack wanting to split up with Wendy and find another woman. Him being physically hurt by the woman isn't something we should take seriously though. It only makes sense that Jack was the one that hurt him, as seeing the woman in the bathtub as a metaphor leaves him the only one left to hurt Danny. His manipulation of the family then demonstrates how deeply troubled he is, how he not only pulls the wool over their eyes, but possibly his too. What we now need to ask is why Jack beat Danny upon discovering room 237. Well, maybe he stumbled upon a secret of Jack's, maybe he questioned his intentions, or let loose some kind of anxiety over the state of the family. We cannot know for sure, but what is implied is that some kind of sexual tension has been picked up by those with the capacity for Shining - and it tears them apart. But, assuming Jack did beat Danny, you can see clearly why he'd accuse him of murder, be in a zombie-like state and use The Shining (Tony) to call for help.
It's from that point that all hell breaks loose and the family break apart, Jack being frozen out of the group...
It's having said that that we can quickly touch on the maze. This is a symbol of introspection, of being lost in oneself.
For Wendy and Danny to be able to navigate this well enough, but Jack to be ultimately lost (to freeze to death) in here speak volumes. It demonstrates the resounding struggle he faces as a conflicted father/husband/writer such and so on. But, we still need to conclude what goes on in room 237. It's knowing what this...
... horrific image means, that we'll understand why Jack devolves into a murderer. So, going into room 237 forces him to confront his suppressed or latent sexual desires. However, he sees them decay in his grip, implying that he feels he is too old or too deep into marriage to be a bachelor. This means that he is both stuck with a woman that will rot in his arms (sorry Wendy) and that his desire for a young, beautiful woman has also rotted to nothing over the years of his marriage. This realisation drives Jack over the edge as he sees no meaning in life. He finds no joy in work, he cannot write, he cannot love, and so he decides he wants to snuff all of his problems out.
The final thing to do here is ask why Kubrick has pulled together such a complex subtext and so see the cohesive whole of these many intricate parts. The major elements of this story are of abuse, of tradition, of sexuality and of disconnect. This is what fuels all of the violence and horror and what ultimately makes clear to Wendy why she needs to get away from Jack...
And, yes, this is her realisation that Jack is not sexual attracted to her and...
... ultimately wants to kill her. She sees the violence and the deviance within him, a deviance that maybe implies Jack is gay. This says a lot about Hollorann, Grady and even Danny, and I suppose if you wanted to you could see this film as being about trying to come out of the closet, but not being able to. In fact, it makes a lot of sense if you wanted to see many of the male characters as lying to themselves about their own sexuality. This would explain why Wendy doesn't have The Shining, why she's not a focus of the narrative and her perspective is never really taken seriously. I won't say that this isn't a possibility, just something that doesn't fit that well into the narrative as Jack seems quite enthusiastic about the young nude woman, and quite concentrated on an idea of family and fatherhood. I suppose it's up to you on how you see the end takeaway of this film as about heterosexuality or homosexuality.
Nonetheless, the many elements of this film (sexuality, abuse, tradition, disconnect) are encompassed by one major theme - isolation. The Outlook Hotel is so important as it truly represents a psychological Petri dish that holds specimen the Torrance family for the world to see. It's a metaphor for social moulding and its perceived constriction. It's Jack that sees the world's image of normality projected onto himself who asks: why isn't he happy? He cannot cope with the pressure of responsibility, maybe because he is deeply conflicted on grounds of childhood abuse, or maybe because he is a deeply suppressed homosexual. In the end, he can neither express himself to his family, or through his writing as he cannot channel his anger, his lamentations, his sexuality to someone who he feels can listen. He does not know how to ask for help, and he let's that destroy him. The lasting question of this image...
... is then as much about isolation, as it is self-determinism. Was Jack always doomed to be the broken caretaker archetype, or did he simply doom himself?
In the end, what The Shining is all about is down to you. You have to put yourself in Jack's position as to hear the questions he may be asking himself, to maybe understand how he justifies his heinous outburst. If you find intrigue in this, in the craft of the filmmaking, in the experience of this film, I'm sure you, as I do, will see this film as an undeniable great.
Two girls on their way to a concert are kidnapped, raped, tortured and then killed.
As promised, a disgusting, violent and stupid film to follow up a string of Disney mush. The Last House On The Left is an incredibly mediocre, sometimes terrible, film. It doesn't really need to be said, but the acting throughout is completely awful. There are a few believable moments, and a handful that are covered up by Wes Craven’s direction, but the acting is fundamentally terrible. However, it’s here where we find the strongest part of the film: the direction. Wes Craven is of course a staple-name in the world of horror with films such as A Nightmare On Elm Street, Scream and The Hills Have Eyes. Despite not being a fan of these films, it is undeniable that Craven captures ridiculous stories poignantly. The Last House On The Left is a great example of this. Despite the dog-shit dialogue and terrible acting plodding along this weak story, Craven, through direction and editing, makes this a watchable film. It’s this that elevates the film from terrible to mediocre. However, under the guise of exploitation, this film takes another jump. Whilst The Last House On The Left isn’t The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Night Of The Living Dead, Cannibal Holocaust, Foxy Brown, Pink Flamingos or A Serbian Film, it is a significant feature in this class of cinema and a particularly good exploitation film. Before we can get into this though, we have to ask what an exploitation film is. The key definition of ‘exploitation film’ is one linked to pop culture or current events. These kinds of films will capitalise on trends; take a concept to an extreme and bring in a very niche audience. This means exploitation films are, in large part, rather vapid thrill-ride money-grabs. However, I don’t think this definition of the exploitation feature is the most clear and expressive explanation of this kind of cinema. Firstly, the link to current trends isn’t always a strong one. If we take Night Of The Living Dead as an example of this, we see a film some say is linked to capitalist critique, and others the projection of a diseased-based fear. In other words, the zombies can be considered semi-conscious, selfish, flesh-seeking, consumers who want nothing more than more. Moreover, the zombies may be seen as diseased people, our fear of them being a mere fear of infection and so on. However, as we all know, zombie films never stopped with Night Of The Living Dead...
Whilst this is largely because of the money this film and genre of horror can amass, we have to look to audience to see why they want this content. The answer seems to be in the fact that the subtextual themes picked up on in Night Of The Living Dead are still current trends; they still have emotive power behind them. This cites the longevity of many exploitation films. Most pick up on themes of murder, violence, torture, sexuality and so pick up on universal human fears - not just trends zipping through the zeitgeist. This leaves our initial definition of the exploitation feature rather unsatisfying. Because of this I think we can find better definitions. In fact, I believe there are three major tenants of the exploitation picture that aren't represented by this definition - all of which we’ll pick up on today with The Last House On The Left as our focus.
The first definition I can offer has to be in the design of the exploitation picture. These films first and foremost exploit one concept or theme. As touched on, this is often something violent and/or sexual. With The Last House On The Left, we see a transparent example of this. To an almost ridiculous extent, this film strives to show us intensifying sexual barbarity; from molestation to rape to biting dicks off, this is clearly a film obsessed with driving deep into our most reflexive fears. And such is the purpose of the exploitation film in this respect. They mean to push cinema to places no one has dared to before. The catch 22 of the exploitation under this pushing of bounds is, unfortunately, popularity and attention. The more money these films make, the more will be made. And to stay relevant, each exploitation feature must escalate, must push bounds further, otherwise it’ll be a mere let down. This is exactly why there was a huge decline of these films as we moved out of the 80s and an almost completely loss of them by the 90s. Filmmakers seemed to have ran out of creative resources and audiences turned to something else. A key hallmark of the exploitation period has to be...
... Cannibal Holocaust. This is probably one of the most vulgar film of the class and pretty much bookended it as one of the last popular releases. It’s in the early 80s and with this film that the exploitation picture hit its peak in terms of pushing bounds. You only have to see 20 minutes of Cannibal Holocaust to get what I mean. I myself haven’t got more than 30 minutes in because the film really does go too far with the murder and torture of live animals. But, in my saying that, I’ve probably livened the interest of a few who will, if they haven’t already, try and watch this film. And in such, we see the purpose of pushing boundaries, of taking a concept such as violence to such an extreme. Nonetheless, Cannibal Holocaust is one of the last classic exploitation films and so the last breath of a tired approach to filmmaking.
However, in Wes Craven, we see an interesting character to study in respect to the exploitation genre. The Last House On The Left came somewhat early in this period and was Craven’s first film; the one that popularised him and led onto The Hills Have Eyes. It’s with The Hills Have Eyes, however, that we see Craven moving somewhat away from the exploitation picture. Whilst this film has the all-important elements of gore and sexual violence, it also incorporated heavier action elements and utilised a larger budget. And it’s because of this that The Hills is much more a genre film than The Last House On The Left. Craven’s most popular film, A Nightmare On Elm Street, makes this point over again. A Nightmare On Elm Street is undeniably a horror film - a psychological slasher. It is not thought of as an exploitation film, and neither is The Hills Have Eyes for the most part, because they lack the stark simplicity of The Last House On The Left. That is to say that they have too many cinematic elements to them. The Last House On The Left is a succinctly focused film, one that zeroes in on sexual violence in an almost plotless narrative. A key part of this concentration is of course absurdity - a staple of all exploration films. They are all incredibly absurd, almost laughable at points; this is what we get when Fred’s dick is bitten off. However, the Hills Have Eyes doesn’t really have this absurdity as the design of the film is there to imply some sense of verisimilitude. That is to say that we’re made to believe that a town of insane deformed people may live out in a dessert and prey upon stranded people. But, coming back to the scene where Fred’s dick is bitten off, what we’re seeing here is a huge jump in the narrative. The film is almost a just very gory thriller up until the point where the gang returns to the parent’s house. This is only made all the more clearer when the parents decide deal with the criminals on their own. This makes absolutely no sense for the characters to do - however, this is something we’ll pick up on in a moment. To round off the first defining element to exploitation films, we see that there is a succinct focus in the narratives, one that means to exploit a singular theme or concept, in turn, and audience’s reflexive reaction to this. In such, we see an extremism in the design of exploitation pictures, one that will inevitable destroy all ideas of verisimilitude.
Ok, the second rule or defining aspect of exploitation pictures is their approach to character. To me, this is the essence of the exploitation film and what you really must understand to be able to write/make them. There are no characters in exploitation pictures. At most, you have caricatures, but, you will almost always be dealing with pawns. This speaks to, us, the audience. The exploitation picture only works because there is an inherent contrivance to them; one that leaves them predictable. Filmmakers know this and so step up to the task of not only meeting expectations of extremism when they make their films, but surpassing expectations, giving the audience more than they expected. This is the playful game that belies the exploitation picture, one played between filmmaker and audience. In going to a film of this kind, an audience member is both stepping up to a dare, but also laying down a bet. They’re risking being horrified and offended, possibly scarred for life, secretly hoping that they aren’t - but kind of are. Knowing this, both filmmaker and audience have certain expectations of character. They don’t really want to root for anyone, they don’t really want to empathise, nor do they want to understand. The characters are there as a weak vessel for the audience, one they slightly empathise with, but also one they’re willing to see be put through torture - usually, quite literally. In such, characters as mere pawns is an inevitable element of the exploitation picture. The filmmaker uses them as a mere object subjected to their stature as a creative God or sense of fate.
Pushing deeper into this idea of fate or ultimate power, both audience and filmmaker use exploitation films as an extreme form of voyeurism. This is the crux of the dare and game they play. It’s an almost sadomasochistic push and pull - characters being the rope between the two. Moreover, exploitation films capitalise on fate as a structural element to produce anti-tragedies. The anti-tragedy is a concept of mine that defines the relationship an audience will have with an exploitation character. There is the element of fate; the fact we know they’re probably going to die horribly or do something inhuman, but one that isn’t tragic in the same respect something like Romeo And Juliet is. The Shakespearean tragedy is mostly masochistic, is us being swept away by romance knowing it will all fail in the end. Conversely, the anti-tragedy present in exploitation film yearns for this failure and embraces it. In such, it is much more sadistic as there are no tears to be expected by the end of The Last House On The Left or a contemporary take on this kind of narrative such as A Serbian Film. We are almost made to sneer at the tragedy in these films. A Serbian Film is probably a better example than The Last House On The Left because there is such a brutal dismissal of the family in the end of this film. Without spoiling it, the inevitable tragedy is one used just to continue the horrific cycle that the characters try to escape. There is no poignant gut punch to this ending though, one nothing like you would see in a tragedy such as Bicycle Thieves of Rififi. This ending is just the films final ‘fuck you all’.
This only works, however, because the characters in this film are empty. There is some amount of traditional characterisation put into them, but this is all ridiculous. That is to say that it is not taken seriously by the audience, nor considered the purpose of watching the film. You see this so much more explicitly in The Last House On The Left. The parents aren’t characterised at all - no one is. They say stupid shit about tits in the beginning, act teenagery or like a happy family near the middle, and then they’re all tortured or turn into monsters by the end. With this, there is no sympathy needed from the filmmakers. The attraction is simply the violence, not necessarily the characters it is inflicted upon.
With such a dismissal of character in exploitation films what we are then seeing is a incredibly rebellious form of cinema - one that is often rebellious without a cause, without much perspective or intent. The Last House On The Left is a convoluted example of this. As the title may have already indicated to you, this is a film with something of a political message to it. It takes progressive themes of love and peace and instills them into the victim caricatures - the teens. Their meeting the criminals because of drugs is a commentary on being a hippy, free and all those other cliches. They thus fall into a nasty trap as the world isn’t full of people we should love. Moreover, the sexual sadism inflicted upon the two girls further demonstrates how ‘free love’ isn’t something people really want to embrace. There is only horror in these sequences because we are a culture which will not accept free love, that needs consent, that conserves sex as an act that is not at all free to all. If we were truly a ‘free love’ culture, we firstly would not observe the term ‘free love’, it’d be ‘free pleasure’. Secondly, if sex were free, given away as conversation is, then rape couldn’t be a thing. Just as someone couldn’t rape you with unwanted small talk, they couldn’t rape you with forced penetration. This is what the film means to serve as commentary on. What’s more, the dismissal of cops, the reliance on self-sovereignty and guns make this film seemingly very pro-right (the latter being a much more cohesive example of this) leaving the lasting commentary a somewhat conservative one.
What this says about The Last House On The Left as an exploitation picture is incredibly confounding. It is both conservative in its message, but incredibly liberal with its presentation. What this leaves this film as is a spit in the face of both left and right in a political sense, and ultimately a very rebellious feature. This is what makes this feature a undeniable great exploitation picture, but, character cannot be forgotten at this point. It’s the caricatures of political archetype that fuel this narrative. And in such, we see the duel purpose of ‘characters’ in exploitation films. They are there as pawns of both emotional engagement and intellectual inquiry. They serve the audience and filmmaker as an extreme approach to what are usually much more subtle aspects of cinema. Whilst we usually try to make characters seem like real people as to get across the emotional message of our films, the exploitation picture makes the point that creating them as them pure objects can be emotional impactful, too. Whilst I believe that traditional characters, complex ones we’re made to believe could be real people, are more effective devices in a story, I think exploitation characters are the only way to speak to people in such a directly reflexive way. When characters are real people we can’t see them as mere monsters, as mere sex things, as just a teenager. When characters become more like people, they become less like archetypes and so distinguish themselves from our biases. Staying away from this, exploitation films can be so visceral and troubling to people. Moreover, they allow filmmakers to make much more explicit commentary. Again, real people aren’t archetypes; it’s with archetypes that you can make broad statements. That’s what you see in The Last House On The Left in the parents, teens and killers. They are little more than extreme representations; through and through archetypes.
So, it’s by seeing characters as cinematic pawns that you can both define an exploitation picture and start to know how to write one. Before moving on with the point though, I want to touch on the stigma that must be attached to the term exploitation film, not to mention all of the phrases I’ve been using to describe them. Whilst exploitation films are brutal, are extreme, are sometimes pretty empty, they’re often a class of cinema I can, maybe not fully embrace and enjoy, but certainly accept. This is because they're a cinematic class of films. Whilst they push things to an extreme like Warhol or von Trier have, they do so for the audience and filmmaker. This is why, despite all that’s fucked up about them, I don’t mind them. In fact, I only have two reasons for not liking exploitation films in general - and they’re pretty subjective. Firstly, the actors and characters are designed terribly. Whilst the characters on the page make some amount of sense and are justified by the intentions of this type of cinema, the way they’re acted out for the screen is often unbearable. Some might like this style of acting, or just not mind it, but I have no yearning to really get into these films, nor re-watch them. The second reason why I’m not a fan of the exploitation genre is their contrived nature. By dismissing all aspects of verisimilitude with the inevitable absurd acts, these films become almost pointless to me. For some, I know this is their purpose - just fun experiences - but, I get frustrated with throwaway films as I just see no point in them. I much rather prefer films with elements of exploitation that manage to sustain verisimilitude, that are believable; film such as:
These films, to me, seem to be the fruits of exploitation. Whilst some filmmakers push the cinematic form to extremes, others slot in behind them and see what they can do with ground covered. So, whilst A Clockwork Orange is incredibly controversial with aspects of exploitation present in its elements of brutality and sexuality, it is a film by Kubrick and so is a serious movie, one that has great depths and doesn't just mean to just be vulgar as to entertain. That isn't to say that all exploitation films do is this, be vulgar as to entertain, but, none are in the same class as A Clockwork Orange, none are as good or better. Whilst I could sink deeper with this subject, it is one I want to save for another time. So, moving on...
The final defining attribute of the exploitation film is a somewhat paradoxical one. When I feel exploitation films working, it’s because they’ve managed to suck me in. They do this with a cinematic atmosphere of intimacy. What I mean to imply here is an almost childish fascination. In the same way a teenager may find porn for the first time, just out of interest and intrigue, people usually stumble upon exploitation films. In such, they want to see something that they maybe shouldn’t. For this to work, for it to really speak to the curious viewer, there must be an air of intimacy and so a sense of safety generated. That means that the film won’t condemn the violence or sexuality wherein; it is always played out with a tone of ‘yes, this is fucked up, but it’s ok to be watching it’. You don’t see this in blockbuster action films; In short, anything by Marvel or DC...
Batman is a great example of this anti-exploitation. Violence has to be justified, it has to have conditions. The same can be said when we look to The Avengers. There is a explicit stigma attached to violence in the action elements of these films. This is exactly what exploitation films relinquish.
This is a lesson that these kind of films need to learn from - it’s ok to to have elements of exploitation in your film; it makes things fun and we really don't need morality nonsense thrown at us so much. It’s here where I have to say I have huge respect for exploitation pictures. Just like they agree to play a game with their audience, they agree to say that we’re adults and can see some fuck up shit if we want. These films are a middle finger in the face of age certificates, in fact they wear them as badges; the gold being what was an X, what later became NC-17 or an 18. The crux of this agreement between audience and filmmaker is, however, one founded on an intimacy. This is generated through the pure explicitness of the films, and so, to know when you’re watching an exploitation picture, all you really have to ask is: am I somewhat comfortable going into this film? Do I feel ok when seeing this fucked up shit?
I can then only compare the experience of seeing a good exploitation picture as to seeking out and finding fucked up YouTube videos. I'm fascinated with people getting jacked, bitten, dismembered and killed by animals. I also like to see them do it to each other. Why? I suppose there is a transcendence when I watch these ‘fucked up’ things. I don’t feel like I’m engaging in something taboo or something I know I shouldn’t be; it’s just interesting. In such, there isn’t really a violence in seeing a person having there arm torn off by a crocodile. There’s just a ridiculous sense of awe. I don’t indulge the fact that the guy is currently experiencing the most horrifying and painful thing he may ever, instead I focus on that consequence as a concept. Yes, this is dehumanising, yes, I’m seeing the man as an exploitation character, but I think this is a very human thing. In the same sense, I have a great interest in hunting videos and MMA. These are things I could never see myself engaging in, but they’re a great interest to me sat on one side of a screen. Whilst there’s a contrived and very fake element to this engagement, it seems to be a watered down expression of the human inclination to learn and experience - everything from the positive to utterly negative. Many centuries ago, you’d be able to see your neighbours die of disease or in battle, centuries before that, you’d likely be seeing those in your village being picked off by predators, daily. This experience has been eradicated in almost all areas of the developed world. We do not see our food killed. We do not know what battle is. We don’t know what it is to die of disease, to fight for your life against the real monsters in the dark. I’m incredibly grateful for this fact and so embrace the byproduct of this societal cushioning: fucked up YouTube videos.
The exploitation picture of course proceeds the fucked up YouTube video though, but nonetheless shares its essence as a piece of intrigue; something that will safely push buttons of horrific experience we don’t really get to play with anymore. It must be said though, again, that these films have a contrived element to them. They are very clearly cinematic; they’re not fucked up YouTube videos as they’re not real and don’t try to be. Because of this, it is difficult to make an exploitation picture - especially nowadays for people like me who consume real messed up video footage. However, I’m sure that you’re shouting bullshit right now. Beforehand, said that I had to turn off Cannibal Holocaust because of the animal torture, and now I’m saying I watch people and animals die on YouTube. The reason why I can consume one media and not the other is that killing animals for a film - and in such a sadistic manner - goes a step too far. This is all to do with the contrived nature of cinema. You can accept real accidents and documentations of animals existing in their natural state; humans hunting, because it is real; it is the state of things. Documentaries of lions having sex and killing things are shown in the middle of the day because there is a consensus of reality in these documentations agreed between all of us. However, you can’t even see a hit of sexuality or heavy violence in cinematic form on most channels at the same time of day. This is because cinema is created, it has a purpose as entertainment and commentary. Documentaries are purely observational, we accept things such as death in them as they are considered to not be contrived. This, again, links into our ape side. We all used to watch our friends die of diseases or in the jaws of animals almost every day centuries/millennia ago. This, whist tragic, must have been something somewhat accepted. That is to say that it would be acceptable in comparison to someone feeding their friend to a lion. Whilst a lion making off with a friend is apart of life, feeding that friend to a lion shouldn't be acepted - even for art and entertainment. This is because there’s a human control present here. The same can be said for cinema and documentaries; we don’t like to see someone/thing thrown to the lions, but, we will accept the lion taking someone/thing.
This all speaks to exploitation pictures. They have to walk a thin line. They must figt their contrived, human created, nature with cinematics and a sense of intimacy to work. Because Canniabl Holocaust doesn’t manage this well at all, it is an exploitation film that goes too far for me. When we look to The Last House On The Left, we see a film that has some moments of intimacy where the violence is immersive and awe-inspiring in a horrific way. We see this in scenes such as Mari’s murder, but it is lost quite a bit in the final act due to the utter absurdity. Nonetheless, the crux of exploitation films working is undeniably intimacy.
So, those are the three extra defining parameters of exploitation films:
1. It is a concept that the exploitation film exploits, one that is fixated on to an extreme.
2. Characters do not exist in exploitation films; they are caricatures or pawns for audience and filmmaker.
3. The exploitation film, at its best, is intimate.
So, there you go, these are extra elements to exploitation films that further specify and clarify this class of cinema. What are your thoughts?
A man returning to his father's estate in his home town is attacked by a wolf.
This is a highly enjoyable Universal classic horror picture that I can't help but recommend to anyone who hasn't seen it. The set-design as well as the black and white cinematography throughout are exemplary of the gold standard of classic horror, the script is tight with a few sparkling moments between Chaney's Larry Talbot and Ankers' Gwen Conliffe and Waggner's direction is very interesting around key moments of transformation or revelation. What's more, there is a mature and somewhat complex commentary on good, evil and shades of grey in this film that ends in poignant tragedy. That said, this film has very many faults and is far from perfect. The acting is shoddy at many points and the dialogue isn't honed in and subtle enough for the most part and so just comes off as clunky or ill-designed. What's more, for a vast majority of this picture Waggner's direction is incredibly flat with no expressive cinematic language at all. There is one great sequence with a lot of superimposition that is fantastic, but, beyond this, there's not much to this film in terms of direction that says much or conveys emotion very well - this is all left to the spectacular set-design and lighting. Despite this criticism, this is, as said, a highly enjoyable film that is easily sunk into and watched. So, if you haven't seen it, certainly give it a go.
What I want to talk about with this picture, however, is what I see to be an incredibly significant lesson in filmmaking and writing. And in discussing this lesson, we'll be uncovering, as the title suggests, the age-old problem with horror.
To start, there is an easily identified kind of cinephile - it is the one who loves old B-pictures, exploitation, thrillers, slashers, gore and horror. The draw of cinema to this kind of cinephile seems to be the fantasy in horror, the magic of the scary and the thrill of the frightening. I've never understood this side of cinema if I'm to be entirely honest. Whilst I can see the attraction, I do not comprehend why, what is easily argued to be, bad films, have the huge draw that they do. So, when I look to a film like The Wolf Man I see and feel the entertaining factor, but certainly can't see this kind of movie as a reason to go to the cinema and to endlessly watch and obsess over film. This is because, though it is an easy stance to take that many seem to assume without reason or rhyme, I see horror as a truly troubled genre. The core problem with horror movies is simply that they are often far too fantastical to have any sense of verisimilitude - to be believable. This results in tropes and conventions of horror like the jump scare, like the countless dumb decisions characters make and the utterly contrived or awkward action. As said, some embrace this and there is certainly a type of cinephile that goes to the cinema and loves film because of this. I'm just not one of those people. When I think of a great horror film, I think of The Shining or Repulsion. This is because these films seem to be dramas before they are horror films, which raises a question I've posed before: when does a film start being a horror movie?
Drama is really not a genre. Drama implies conflict, which all movies have, and so to call a film a drama is redundant. However, with drama comes an idea of realism. We thus judge a film to be a drama if it is confined, grounded and doesn't appeal to wider genres - instead communicates raw emotions in a realist way. Horror, an explicit genre, on the other hand is defined by the reaction of an audience, thus, it is defined by the emotion of horror that we are supposed to feel. In short, a horror horrifies. More specifically, a horror film horrifies through fantasy. If you were to horrify through a more realist veneer, you couldn't use monsters, ghosts or supernatural demons as they do not fit into reality. So, when a filmmaker or writer tries to horrify us under realist terms, we end up classifying their work as psychological, a thriller, slasher or crime-drama. Understanding this, you can see that labelling a film as a simple 'horror' is dependent on a lack of realism and an abundance of fantastical happenings. This sets a president. If a film is to horrify through fantasy, as a film such as The Wolf Man, Frankenstein, The Night Of The Living Dead, The Exorcist or Dracula tries to, they require the invention of some kind of monster - a werewolf, demon, devil, zombie, vampire or revived mutant corpse. This is what makes horror great, but also where it runs into trouble.
How do you crack someone's skull open and eat their brains? How do you tear someone apart? How do you suck someone's blood? How do you rip flesh from bone? How do you exorcise a little girl? How do you transform into a werewolf? These are all questions a writer and filmmaker has to ask themselves as to produce a horror movie. You'd ask yourself the same kind of things if you were writing a drama: What is it like to be dumped? What is it like to lose a loved one? What is it like to be cheated on? What is it like to lose your job? What is it like to become a parent? It is asking questions like these that movies are made and scenes are written. However, there's a key, and very clear, difference between the questions you ask as to write a drama and the questions you ask as to write a horror. This difference is experience. Most people will have had some drama in their life; they will have been dumped, cheated on, have lost family or at least have seen these kind of things happen to people around them. It's knowing these details that a screenwriter can type out a script - because they know how to visualise things actually happening. This task is many, many, many times more difficult when it comes to horror. Whilst you may think you know the emotions that will surge through your body as you're faced with a werewolf because you're a human and have felt fear before, it is certain that you've never witnessed a werewolf tearing a person apart. This is exactly why horror films are so difficult to pull off and are so often terrible - the filmmakers often cannot successfully portray these fantastical events in a believable way.
The catch 22 with horror is then that, for a movie to be a horror film, it needs fantasy, but for a film to work and be effective, it needs the opposite of fantasy - it needs realism and verisimilitude. Filmmakers struggle with the genre of horror (in some aspects of the process) because this conflict between fantasy and verisimilitude is not understood or managed well. The reason there is then such a visceral negative reaction to a scene like this from Birdemic...
... is simply that we can see that the birds are fake. Whilst the filmmakers of Birdemic must have known they were making a terrible movie and embraced that, we see the same issue in a more serious film such as Hitchcock's, The Birds...
What truly makes this scene, just like the many scenes from Birdemic, terrible is not just to do with technology. Yes, there's horrific special effects in both of these films, but it is the way in which these sequences are actually written and played out that makes them so bad. For example, if you were to try and kill a bunch of attacking birds, would it look like the first image? If you were to run away from a bunch of attacking birds, would it look like the second image? The answer is, no. However, what would it actually look like if you were to fight off killer birds or run away from them? You don't really know - just as we all don't - right? These are difficult things to visualise as they are so absurd and, for the most part, unrealistic or unnatural. Even when these things do happen...
... we laugh because they're so awkward. And we've certainly all seen videos of birds attacking people - our reaction to them is never that which the makers of Birdemic or The Birds wanted to achieve though. What this implies is that the premise for both of these films is ridiculous and could only truly work if they're self-consciously stupid, or aimed towards children or people who are easily scared.
The real problem with horror is that this core problem with ridiculous horror films is also evident in the ones that you are supposed to take more seriously - films like The Wolf Man. The scene in The Wolf Man I then want to zoom in on comes at the end of the first act and is the one where Bela, in the form of a wolf, attacks and murders Gwen's friend before Larry confronts and kills it with the cane.
What I'll try to do it is put to words the way in which this scene plays out. To introduce...
To keep things short, we'll jump ahead in the scene past the point in which Bela sees the star in Jenny's hand, implying that she is his next victim...
This is scene as best as I can transcribe it and it has quite a few problems. The first is obviously the dialogue. It is too repetitive and too loud. By being too loud, I mean to suggest that it says what's in the characters heads and doesn't rely on subtext enough. For example, after hearing the werewolf howl, we get the exchange between Gwen and Harry:
This can be cut out and done with facial expressions. This is difficult to put down in words as a screenwriter, however. You want to communicate, in the sharpest and clear way, that the two characters heard the howl and are scared. The dialogue is a quick, but not so great, way of putting this down. But, what would be worst than those two lines of dialogue would be the description I gave: the two characters heard the howl and are scared. This is why you see this kind of dialogue in so many movies - it isn't as blunt, it fills white space on a page, it succinctly gets a point across and is often overlookable. However, what is wrong with this approach is that, when put to film, it is clunky. This isn't always the case though. If you have great actors, they'd be able to use these lines to get across emotions that invest an audience, not make them reel back at the flat dialogue. This is a source of major anxiety for any writer - especially a screenwriter. When you write a book, you have to hope that a reader reads your words in the way they were intended to be read. In the same respect, you also have to hope an actor says your lines in the way they were meant to be said - or, better.
You cannot avoid this dilemma as a writer. However, as a screenwriter, you have a device that a novelist or playwrite does not - you have the image. This is why I suggest that you take away lines like this and let cinematic language communicate the point. However, with The Wolf Man, the recital of these lines was pretty flat and the cinematic language used to project them was mediocre. This simply means that there was no tension constructed by Waggner, Chaney or Ankers. The emotion in the scene only comes from lighting and the score. This is what has the sequence fall flat - all the devices of cinema do not come together as the acting and direction are weak links.
Now, when we move into the action sequence of this scene, we run into the biggest issue with both the script and movie. This all falls into line with all that we've been talking about in respect to fantasy in horror as well as screenwriters having never experience something like a werewolf attack. It is very evident, in the film, that neither Waggner or the screenwriter, Siodmak, have either never seen a wolf attack or been attacked by a wolf. Whilst I don't know if this is true, it certainly comes off this way. And the blame for the amateurish, kerfuffled wolf attack is certainly to be put onto the director because a screenwriter, lucky for them, gets to hide behind the ambiguity of his/her words. So, let's take a look at how I describe the attack...
If you gave this to about 10 directors and asked them to film it, you'd probably get... maybe 3/4 different versions of this scene. Many would think that you'd get 10 different scenes from 10 different directors and this is arguably true. It is not very likely that you'd get the exact same scene over and over - an obvious fact. However, I say 3/4 different versions as most of the scenes would be approached in a very similar way - assuming we have a bunch of average directors. In such, you could imagine someone taking the gory and close-up approach. In this, the camera would track Larry's feet as he jumps over the roots and comes to an abrupt stop. We'd get an extreme close-up on his horrified face and then another extreme close-up on the blood, flesh and guts of the body being torn at by the wolf. We'd then proceed to get a very violent and bloody beat down of the creature - one that would likely be framed awkwardly with a shaky camera, too many cuts and a whole bunch of close-ups to mask the fact that an actor who has never been in a real fight is trying to kill a doll. Great, right? Another approach you may see is the PG 13 version of this. This scene wouldn't be so violent or dynamic, would be shot from a distance and would rely on obstruction or implication - a tree in the way or a shadow doing the beating. Again, great, right? This is what you see in The Wolf Man - a distant, static and rather tame scene that comes off as awkward. There is one redeeming factor that does jump out at you though. This is the shot with a real dog or wolf tugging at what I assume to be a doll. This would have been better if the wolf was actually thrashing about, but, the shot is a well used and pretty powerful one. Other than this... this scene is nothing special and comes off as cheap.
How do we then fix this? The answer is a simple one that you won't like: be a better writer and director. You have to find a style and approach to better convey this scene. Don't worry, I won't leave you with just this. Whilst I don't believe I have the all-powerful answer on how to make the scene better, I believe I have an approach you can choose to take and develop.
This all starts with the script and it'll now become more evident why I went on about genres, fantasy, horror and so on. To write better action sequences, you have to know what it is like to be in them. If you don't have access to this knowledge - say, for instance, you're writing a scene about a 1000 foot fish attacking a city or simply don't want to watch dogs attacking people on YouTube - we're going to have to use the power of imagination. This is probably the hardest element of writing - or, at least, I find this to be the case - as it's the most arduous and down-in-the-dirt aspect of the process. Ok, so, imagine we're in the moment in which Larry decides he will confront the wolf. Stop here. You've just come across a wolf ripping flesh off a dead woman. How does this make you feel? A mixture of things is what I'd suggest. There's that deep, acidic, sickened feeling in your gut. There's the cold wave of liquid chill that moves into your bones. There's the inclination to step back and run away. How do we put this in a script? Unfortunately, unless we we're to go experimental or cartoonish, you may have to drop a few lines. So, if you were to communicate this is in a classical, but expressive, manner, you'd imply the crumpling of eyes, fear in the pupils, sweat on the face, weak, loose and clammy hands, heels treading back over the dirt, fog wisping up at your trembling knees. If we were to take a cartoon approach, you could simply have the character turn white, gulp and have that giant bead of sweat pop off their head - maybe add some stress lines on the face with veiny, bloodshot eyes that refuse to blink. To take the more experimental route, you could take all those lines and turn them into literal images within a montage. You could then show a close-up on the man's stomach before cutting to vat of bubbling green acid that has white ice thrown on it. You could have a bone break through the icy waters of a lake and cut this into a montage of a person standing afraid (hence utilising the Kuleshov effect and not relying so much on the actor). You could even show a rapid montage that flickers between frames of each of his body parts between which the blood, guts, jaws and so on flash from the screen.
In the end, there are a vast multitude of approaches you may uncover if you stop, put yourself in a situation and think. And, having covered these three ways, you can hopefully see varied and more expressive means of communicating this one tiny detail of coming across the wolf. This is an arduous process, but I believe it can pay off. All it takes is imagining that you are in that situation, breaking that down into sensory images and finding a way to portray them. Once you have a script that does this, the director may take over and hopefully enrich it with further vision.
What's so important about horror, and where you will be truly tested as a writer, is not just in the moment where our character comes across the werewolf. It will be the sequence in which your character attacks the wolf. How does he approach the creature? How does the wolf retaliate? How does the fight play out? How can you turn that into sensory images that give the illusion that you know what it is like to fight a werewolf? These are questions I will leave you to ponder and maybe use as a tool to practice writing. In fact, I'd love to know how you would answer these questions and construct this kind of scene.
So, what you can ultimately learn from a film like The Wolf Man, which is deeply faulted because of its script and direction, is the age-old problem with horror. It is so hard to balance the fantasy with the realism; to conjure the illusion that demonstrates that these things could actually happen before your very eyes. To confront this problem you must provide the illusion that you know the scene as if its an event from your life - and to project this, you need to communicate sensory details through cinematic imagery. Whilst I say that this is true, I certainly don't consider myself particularity good at it. I, like most, am learning and working on this craft. But, given the tools, I believe the growing process is all the more effective and accessible. And so, in the end, is this helpful to you? What are your thoughts?
Three stories. One about a spirit-zombie thing. One about a ghost and a phone. One about a bunch of vampires.
Black Sabbath is a conflicting film. Some parts are pretty good, other parts are pretty awful. Ultimately, however, I just found this film to be boring - frustrating even - for the most part. This may be down to the plethora of production issues with late script changes, dubbings, angles toward differing markets and studio fuckery. Nonetheless, everything around character in this film is mind-numbingly ill-conceived. All character decisions, all dialogue, all of the acting - all dog shit. The sound design is undeniably the worst thing about this movie, however. I've mentioned the dubbing, but... Jesus... I cannot think of a worse example of sound design. Not only is it incredibly cheap, but the acting is awful - and the shit the voice actors are made to spew... fuck me. However, there'd be no point in really talking about this film if there wasn't something more to be said.
So, coming to the positives, Bava's direction is intermittently interesting - as is the structuring of the script. The best story, by far, is then 'The Drop Of Water'. This short follows a woman who decides to steal the ring of a dead woman. However, the spirit of the robbed deceased clings to her, finding its way into her home where she decides to turn a whole bunch of taps on - just so they drip - all before showing up and frightening the woman to death, literally. What makes this scene so great is simply the way in which it sets up its jump scares.
Ask almost anyone who critiques or talks about film and they'll probably tell you that jump scares are the cancer of modern horror. And I agree to a certain extent. I certainly think that jump scares are often over-used and applied very poorly with no justifying set up - what's more, jump scares are usually false scares, which is pretty frustrating. That said, I certainly think that there a debate to be had (that we won't go into right now) on the philosophy of the jump scare. Nonetheless, a good example of how to use the jump scare can be found in the 'Drop Of Water' sequence of Black Sabbath.
Bava, with a little help from Frankenstein's Monster himself, Boris Karloff, warns us of and implies the horror of this short. We are then essentially told that "your about to be scared" as Karloff introduces. And even though it's cheesy, this a great technique as, after all, the scariest things in life have a warning, a 'viewer discretion advised', a rating or a mystique and danger about them that acts as a skin you must press through before being allowed to see this allegedly scary content. Karloff's introductions do this brilliantly, and if I were a 5 year old, I'm sure this film would scare the shit out of me. Unfortunately, I'm not a 5 year old and so was hoping for some tense cinematic language. And this is certainly what you get for about 15 minutes. Bava essentially has us wait... and wait... and wait... and wait... and...
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... and wait... with a building tremolo of dripping taps, fear, anxiety then--
... yeah, pretty low budget special effects, but it works pretty effectively. So, if you like horror films, if you want to write a horror script or direct a horror movie, maybe check out this sequence in Black Sabbath to see a good example of how to earn a jump scare.
Beyond that, have you seen Black Sabbath? What are your thoughts?
The Last House On The Left - Exploitation Is Intimacy
As promised, a disgusting, violent and stupid film to follow up a string of Disney mush. The Last House On The Left is an incredibly mediocre, sometimes terrible, film. It doesn't really need to be said, but the acting throughout is completely awful. There are a few believable moments, and a handful that are covered up by Wes Craven’s direction, but the acting is fundamentally terrible. However, it’s here where we find the strongest part of the film: the direction. Wes Craven is of course a staple-name in the world of horror with films such as A Nightmare On Elm Street, Scream and The Hills Have Eyes. Despite not being a fan of these films, it is undeniable that Craven captures ridiculous stories poignantly. The Last House On The Left is a great example of this. Despite the dog-shit dialogue and terrible acting plodding along this weak story, Craven, through direction and editing, makes this a watchable film. It’s this that elevates the film from terrible to mediocre. However, under the guise of exploitation, this film takes another jump. Whilst The Last House On The Left isn’t The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Night Of The Living Dead, Cannibal Holocaust, Foxy Brown, Pink Flamingos or A Serbian Film, it is a significant feature in this class of cinema and a particularly good exploitation film. Before we can get into this though, we have to ask what an exploitation film is. The key definition of ‘exploitation film’ is one linked to pop culture or current events. These kinds of films will capitalise on trends; take a concept to an extreme and bring in a very niche audience. This means exploitation films are, in large part, rather vapid thrill-ride money-grabs. However, I don’t think this definition of the exploitation feature is the most clear and expressive explanation of this kind of cinema. Firstly, the link to current trends isn’t always a strong one. If we take Night Of The Living Dead as an example of this, we see a film some say is linked to capitalist critique, and others the projection of a diseased-based fear. In other words, the zombies can be considered semi-conscious, selfish, flesh-seeking, consumers who want nothing more than more. Moreover, the zombies may be seen as diseased people, our fear of them being a mere fear of infection and so on. However, as we all know, zombie films never stopped with Night Of The Living Dead...
Whilst this is largely because of the money this film and genre of horror can amass, we have to look to audience to see why they want this content. The answer seems to be in the fact that the subtextual themes picked up on in Night Of The Living Dead are still current trends; they still have emotive power behind them. This cites the longevity of many exploitation films. Most pick up on themes of murder, violence, torture, sexuality and so pick up on universal human fears - not just trends zipping through the zeitgeist. This leaves our initial definition of the exploitation feature rather unsatisfying. Because of this I think we can find better definitions. In fact, I believe there are three major tenants of the exploitation picture that aren't represented by this definition - all of which we’ll pick up on today with The Last House On The Left as our focus.
The first definition I can offer has to be in the design of the exploitation picture. These films first and foremost exploit one concept or theme. As touched on, this is often something violent and/or sexual. With The Last House On The Left, we see a transparent example of this. To an almost ridiculous extent, this film strives to show us intensifying sexual barbarity; from molestation to rape to biting dicks off, this is clearly a film obsessed with driving deep into our most reflexive fears. And such is the purpose of the exploitation film in this respect. They mean to push cinema to places no one has dared to before. The catch 22 of the exploitation under this pushing of bounds is, unfortunately, popularity and attention. The more money these films make, the more will be made. And to stay relevant, each exploitation feature must escalate, must push bounds further, otherwise it’ll be a mere let down. This is exactly why there was a huge decline of these films as we moved out of the 80s and an almost completely loss of them by the 90s. Filmmakers seemed to have ran out of creative resources and audiences turned to something else. A key hallmark of the exploitation period has to be...
... Cannibal Holocaust. This is probably one of the most vulgar film of the class and pretty much bookended it as one of the last popular releases. It’s in the early 80s and with this film that the exploitation picture hit its peak in terms of pushing bounds. You only have to see 20 minutes of Cannibal Holocaust to get what I mean. I myself haven’t got more than 30 minutes in because the film really does go too far with the murder and torture of live animals. But, in my saying that, I’ve probably livened the interest of a few who will, if they haven’t already, try and watch this film. And in such, we see the purpose of pushing boundaries, of taking a concept such as violence to such an extreme. Nonetheless, Cannibal Holocaust is one of the last classic exploitation films and so the last breath of a tired approach to filmmaking.
However, in Wes Craven, we see an interesting character to study in respect to the exploitation genre. The Last House On The Left came somewhat early in this period and was Craven’s first film; the one that popularised him and led onto The Hills Have Eyes. It’s with The Hills Have Eyes, however, that we see Craven moving somewhat away from the exploitation picture. Whilst this film has the all-important elements of gore and sexual violence, it also incorporated heavier action elements and utilised a larger budget. And it’s because of this that The Hills is much more a genre film than The Last House On The Left. Craven’s most popular film, A Nightmare On Elm Street, makes this point over again. A Nightmare On Elm Street is undeniably a horror film - a psychological slasher. It is not thought of as an exploitation film, and neither is The Hills Have Eyes for the most part, because they lack the stark simplicity of The Last House On The Left. That is to say that they have too many cinematic elements to them. The Last House On The Left is a succinctly focused film, one that zeroes in on sexual violence in an almost plotless narrative. A key part of this concentration is of course absurdity - a staple of all exploration films. They are all incredibly absurd, almost laughable at points; this is what we get when Fred’s dick is bitten off. However, the Hills Have Eyes doesn’t really have this absurdity as the design of the film is there to imply some sense of verisimilitude. That is to say that we’re made to believe that a town of insane deformed people may live out in a dessert and prey upon stranded people. But, coming back to the scene where Fred’s dick is bitten off, what we’re seeing here is a huge jump in the narrative. The film is almost a just very gory thriller up until the point where the gang returns to the parent’s house. This is only made all the more clearer when the parents decide deal with the criminals on their own. This makes absolutely no sense for the characters to do - however, this is something we’ll pick up on in a moment. To round off the first defining element to exploitation films, we see that there is a succinct focus in the narratives, one that means to exploit a singular theme or concept, in turn, and audience’s reflexive reaction to this. In such, we see an extremism in the design of exploitation pictures, one that will inevitable destroy all ideas of verisimilitude.
Ok, the second rule or defining aspect of exploitation pictures is their approach to character. To me, this is the essence of the exploitation film and what you really must understand to be able to write/make them. There are no characters in exploitation pictures. At most, you have caricatures, but, you will almost always be dealing with pawns. This speaks to, us, the audience. The exploitation picture only works because there is an inherent contrivance to them; one that leaves them predictable. Filmmakers know this and so step up to the task of not only meeting expectations of extremism when they make their films, but surpassing expectations, giving the audience more than they expected. This is the playful game that belies the exploitation picture, one played between filmmaker and audience. In going to a film of this kind, an audience member is both stepping up to a dare, but also laying down a bet. They’re risking being horrified and offended, possibly scarred for life, secretly hoping that they aren’t - but kind of are. Knowing this, both filmmaker and audience have certain expectations of character. They don’t really want to root for anyone, they don’t really want to empathise, nor do they want to understand. The characters are there as a weak vessel for the audience, one they slightly empathise with, but also one they’re willing to see be put through torture - usually, quite literally. In such, characters as mere pawns is an inevitable element of the exploitation picture. The filmmaker uses them as a mere object subjected to their stature as a creative God or sense of fate.
Pushing deeper into this idea of fate or ultimate power, both audience and filmmaker use exploitation films as an extreme form of voyeurism. This is the crux of the dare and game they play. It’s an almost sadomasochistic push and pull - characters being the rope between the two. Moreover, exploitation films capitalise on fate as a structural element to produce anti-tragedies. The anti-tragedy is a concept of mine that defines the relationship an audience will have with an exploitation character. There is the element of fate; the fact we know they’re probably going to die horribly or do something inhuman, but one that isn’t tragic in the same respect something like Romeo And Juliet is. The Shakespearean tragedy is mostly masochistic, is us being swept away by romance knowing it will all fail in the end. Conversely, the anti-tragedy present in exploitation film yearns for this failure and embraces it. In such, it is much more sadistic as there are no tears to be expected by the end of The Last House On The Left or a contemporary take on this kind of narrative such as A Serbian Film. We are almost made to sneer at the tragedy in these films. A Serbian Film is probably a better example than The Last House On The Left because there is such a brutal dismissal of the family in the end of this film. Without spoiling it, the inevitable tragedy is one used just to continue the horrific cycle that the characters try to escape. There is no poignant gut punch to this ending though, one nothing like you would see in a tragedy such as Bicycle Thieves of Rififi. This ending is just the films final ‘fuck you all’.
This only works, however, because the characters in this film are empty. There is some amount of traditional characterisation put into them, but this is all ridiculous. That is to say that it is not taken seriously by the audience, nor considered the purpose of watching the film. You see this so much more explicitly in The Last House On The Left. The parents aren’t characterised at all - no one is. They say stupid shit about tits in the beginning, act teenagery or like a happy family near the middle, and then they’re all tortured or turn into monsters by the end. With this, there is no sympathy needed from the filmmakers. The attraction is simply the violence, not necessarily the characters it is inflicted upon.
With such a dismissal of character in exploitation films what we are then seeing is a incredibly rebellious form of cinema - one that is often rebellious without a cause, without much perspective or intent. The Last House On The Left is a convoluted example of this. As the title may have already indicated to you, this is a film with something of a political message to it. It takes progressive themes of love and peace and instills them into the victim caricatures - the teens. Their meeting the criminals because of drugs is a commentary on being a hippy, free and all those other cliches. They thus fall into a nasty trap as the world isn’t full of people we should love. Moreover, the sexual sadism inflicted upon the two girls further demonstrates how ‘free love’ isn’t something people really want to embrace. There is only horror in these sequences because we are a culture which will not accept free love, that needs consent, that conserves sex as an act that is not at all free to all. If we were truly a ‘free love’ culture, we firstly would not observe the term ‘free love’, it’d be ‘free pleasure’. Secondly, if sex were free, given away as conversation is, then rape couldn’t be a thing. Just as someone couldn’t rape you with unwanted small talk, they couldn’t rape you with forced penetration. This is what the film means to serve as commentary on. What’s more, the dismissal of cops, the reliance on self-sovereignty and guns make this film seemingly very pro-right (the latter being a much more cohesive example of this) leaving the lasting commentary a somewhat conservative one.
What this says about The Last House On The Left as an exploitation picture is incredibly confounding. It is both conservative in its message, but incredibly liberal with its presentation. What this leaves this film as is a spit in the face of both left and right in a political sense, and ultimately a very rebellious feature. This is what makes this feature a undeniable great exploitation picture, but, character cannot be forgotten at this point. It’s the caricatures of political archetype that fuel this narrative. And in such, we see the duel purpose of ‘characters’ in exploitation films. They are there as pawns of both emotional engagement and intellectual inquiry. They serve the audience and filmmaker as an extreme approach to what are usually much more subtle aspects of cinema. Whilst we usually try to make characters seem like real people as to get across the emotional message of our films, the exploitation picture makes the point that creating them as them pure objects can be emotional impactful, too. Whilst I believe that traditional characters, complex ones we’re made to believe could be real people, are more effective devices in a story, I think exploitation characters are the only way to speak to people in such a directly reflexive way. When characters are real people we can’t see them as mere monsters, as mere sex things, as just a teenager. When characters become more like people, they become less like archetypes and so distinguish themselves from our biases. Staying away from this, exploitation films can be so visceral and troubling to people. Moreover, they allow filmmakers to make much more explicit commentary. Again, real people aren’t archetypes; it’s with archetypes that you can make broad statements. That’s what you see in The Last House On The Left in the parents, teens and killers. They are little more than extreme representations; through and through archetypes.
So, it’s by seeing characters as cinematic pawns that you can both define an exploitation picture and start to know how to write one. Before moving on with the point though, I want to touch on the stigma that must be attached to the term exploitation film, not to mention all of the phrases I’ve been using to describe them. Whilst exploitation films are brutal, are extreme, are sometimes pretty empty, they’re often a class of cinema I can, maybe not fully embrace and enjoy, but certainly accept. This is because they're a cinematic class of films. Whilst they push things to an extreme like Warhol or von Trier have, they do so for the audience and filmmaker. This is why, despite all that’s fucked up about them, I don’t mind them. In fact, I only have two reasons for not liking exploitation films in general - and they’re pretty subjective. Firstly, the actors and characters are designed terribly. Whilst the characters on the page make some amount of sense and are justified by the intentions of this type of cinema, the way they’re acted out for the screen is often unbearable. Some might like this style of acting, or just not mind it, but I have no yearning to really get into these films, nor re-watch them. The second reason why I’m not a fan of the exploitation genre is their contrived nature. By dismissing all aspects of verisimilitude with the inevitable absurd acts, these films become almost pointless to me. For some, I know this is their purpose - just fun experiences - but, I get frustrated with throwaway films as I just see no point in them. I much rather prefer films with elements of exploitation that manage to sustain verisimilitude, that are believable; film such as:
These films, to me, seem to be the fruits of exploitation. Whilst some filmmakers push the cinematic form to extremes, others slot in behind them and see what they can do with ground covered. So, whilst A Clockwork Orange is incredibly controversial with aspects of exploitation present in its elements of brutality and sexuality, it is a film by Kubrick and so is a serious movie, one that has great depths and doesn't just mean to just be vulgar as to entertain. That isn't to say that all exploitation films do is this, be vulgar as to entertain, but, none are in the same class as A Clockwork Orange, none are as good or better. Whilst I could sink deeper with this subject, it is one I want to save for another time. So, moving on...
The final defining attribute of the exploitation film is a somewhat paradoxical one. When I feel exploitation films working, it’s because they’ve managed to suck me in. They do this with a cinematic atmosphere of intimacy. What I mean to imply here is an almost childish fascination. In the same way a teenager may find porn for the first time, just out of interest and intrigue, people usually stumble upon exploitation films. In such, they want to see something that they maybe shouldn’t. For this to work, for it to really speak to the curious viewer, there must be an air of intimacy and so a sense of safety generated. That means that the film won’t condemn the violence or sexuality wherein; it is always played out with a tone of ‘yes, this is fucked up, but it’s ok to be watching it’. You don’t see this in blockbuster action films; In short, anything by Marvel or DC...
Batman is a great example of this anti-exploitation. Violence has to be justified, it has to have conditions. The same can be said when we look to The Avengers. There is a explicit stigma attached to violence in the action elements of these films. This is exactly what exploitation films relinquish.
This is a lesson that these kind of films need to learn from - it’s ok to to have elements of exploitation in your film; it makes things fun and we really don't need morality nonsense thrown at us so much. It’s here where I have to say I have huge respect for exploitation pictures. Just like they agree to play a game with their audience, they agree to say that we’re adults and can see some fuck up shit if we want. These films are a middle finger in the face of age certificates, in fact they wear them as badges; the gold being what was an X, what later became NC-17 or an 18. The crux of this agreement between audience and filmmaker is, however, one founded on an intimacy. This is generated through the pure explicitness of the films, and so, to know when you’re watching an exploitation picture, all you really have to ask is: am I somewhat comfortable going into this film? Do I feel ok when seeing this fucked up shit?
I can then only compare the experience of seeing a good exploitation picture as to seeking out and finding fucked up YouTube videos. I'm fascinated with people getting jacked, bitten, dismembered and killed by animals. I also like to see them do it to each other. Why? I suppose there is a transcendence when I watch these ‘fucked up’ things. I don’t feel like I’m engaging in something taboo or something I know I shouldn’t be; it’s just interesting. In such, there isn’t really a violence in seeing a person having there arm torn off by a crocodile. There’s just a ridiculous sense of awe. I don’t indulge the fact that the guy is currently experiencing the most horrifying and painful thing he may ever, instead I focus on that consequence as a concept. Yes, this is dehumanising, yes, I’m seeing the man as an exploitation character, but I think this is a very human thing. In the same sense, I have a great interest in hunting videos and MMA. These are things I could never see myself engaging in, but they’re a great interest to me sat on one side of a screen. Whilst there’s a contrived and very fake element to this engagement, it seems to be a watered down expression of the human inclination to learn and experience - everything from the positive to utterly negative. Many centuries ago, you’d be able to see your neighbours die of disease or in battle, centuries before that, you’d likely be seeing those in your village being picked off by predators, daily. This experience has been eradicated in almost all areas of the developed world. We do not see our food killed. We do not know what battle is. We don’t know what it is to die of disease, to fight for your life against the real monsters in the dark. I’m incredibly grateful for this fact and so embrace the byproduct of this societal cushioning: fucked up YouTube videos.
The exploitation picture of course proceeds the fucked up YouTube video though, but nonetheless shares its essence as a piece of intrigue; something that will safely push buttons of horrific experience we don’t really get to play with anymore. It must be said though, again, that these films have a contrived element to them. They are very clearly cinematic; they’re not fucked up YouTube videos as they’re not real and don’t try to be. Because of this, it is difficult to make an exploitation picture - especially nowadays for people like me who consume real messed up video footage. However, I’m sure that you’re shouting bullshit right now. Beforehand, said that I had to turn off Cannibal Holocaust because of the animal torture, and now I’m saying I watch people and animals die on YouTube. The reason why I can consume one media and not the other is that killing animals for a film - and in such a sadistic manner - goes a step too far. This is all to do with the contrived nature of cinema. You can accept real accidents and documentations of animals existing in their natural state; humans hunting, because it is real; it is the state of things. Documentaries of lions having sex and killing things are shown in the middle of the day because there is a consensus of reality in these documentations agreed between all of us. However, you can’t even see a hit of sexuality or heavy violence in cinematic form on most channels at the same time of day. This is because cinema is created, it has a purpose as entertainment and commentary. Documentaries are purely observational, we accept things such as death in them as they are considered to not be contrived. This, again, links into our ape side. We all used to watch our friends die of diseases or in the jaws of animals almost every day centuries/millennia ago. This, whist tragic, must have been something somewhat accepted. That is to say that it would be acceptable in comparison to someone feeding their friend to a lion. Whilst a lion making off with a friend is apart of life, feeding that friend to a lion shouldn't be acepted - even for art and entertainment. This is because there’s a human control present here. The same can be said for cinema and documentaries; we don’t like to see someone/thing thrown to the lions, but, we will accept the lion taking someone/thing.
This all speaks to exploitation pictures. They have to walk a thin line. They must figt their contrived, human created, nature with cinematics and a sense of intimacy to work. Because Canniabl Holocaust doesn’t manage this well at all, it is an exploitation film that goes too far for me. When we look to The Last House On The Left, we see a film that has some moments of intimacy where the violence is immersive and awe-inspiring in a horrific way. We see this in scenes such as Mari’s murder, but it is lost quite a bit in the final act due to the utter absurdity. Nonetheless, the crux of exploitation films working is undeniably intimacy.
So, those are the three extra defining parameters of exploitation films:
1. It is a concept that the exploitation film exploits, one that is fixated on to an extreme.
2. Characters do not exist in exploitation films; they are caricatures or pawns for audience and filmmaker.
3. The exploitation film, at its best, is intimate.
So, there you go, these are extra elements to exploitation films that further specify and clarify this class of cinema. What are your thoughts?
The Wolf Man - The Age-Old Problem With Horror
What I want to talk about with this picture, however, is what I see to be an incredibly significant lesson in filmmaking and writing. And in discussing this lesson, we'll be uncovering, as the title suggests, the age-old problem with horror.
To start, there is an easily identified kind of cinephile - it is the one who loves old B-pictures, exploitation, thrillers, slashers, gore and horror. The draw of cinema to this kind of cinephile seems to be the fantasy in horror, the magic of the scary and the thrill of the frightening. I've never understood this side of cinema if I'm to be entirely honest. Whilst I can see the attraction, I do not comprehend why, what is easily argued to be, bad films, have the huge draw that they do. So, when I look to a film like The Wolf Man I see and feel the entertaining factor, but certainly can't see this kind of movie as a reason to go to the cinema and to endlessly watch and obsess over film. This is because, though it is an easy stance to take that many seem to assume without reason or rhyme, I see horror as a truly troubled genre. The core problem with horror movies is simply that they are often far too fantastical to have any sense of verisimilitude - to be believable. This results in tropes and conventions of horror like the jump scare, like the countless dumb decisions characters make and the utterly contrived or awkward action. As said, some embrace this and there is certainly a type of cinephile that goes to the cinema and loves film because of this. I'm just not one of those people. When I think of a great horror film, I think of The Shining or Repulsion. This is because these films seem to be dramas before they are horror films, which raises a question I've posed before: when does a film start being a horror movie?
Drama is really not a genre. Drama implies conflict, which all movies have, and so to call a film a drama is redundant. However, with drama comes an idea of realism. We thus judge a film to be a drama if it is confined, grounded and doesn't appeal to wider genres - instead communicates raw emotions in a realist way. Horror, an explicit genre, on the other hand is defined by the reaction of an audience, thus, it is defined by the emotion of horror that we are supposed to feel. In short, a horror horrifies. More specifically, a horror film horrifies through fantasy. If you were to horrify through a more realist veneer, you couldn't use monsters, ghosts or supernatural demons as they do not fit into reality. So, when a filmmaker or writer tries to horrify us under realist terms, we end up classifying their work as psychological, a thriller, slasher or crime-drama. Understanding this, you can see that labelling a film as a simple 'horror' is dependent on a lack of realism and an abundance of fantastical happenings. This sets a president. If a film is to horrify through fantasy, as a film such as The Wolf Man, Frankenstein, The Night Of The Living Dead, The Exorcist or Dracula tries to, they require the invention of some kind of monster - a werewolf, demon, devil, zombie, vampire or revived mutant corpse. This is what makes horror great, but also where it runs into trouble.
How do you crack someone's skull open and eat their brains? How do you tear someone apart? How do you suck someone's blood? How do you rip flesh from bone? How do you exorcise a little girl? How do you transform into a werewolf? These are all questions a writer and filmmaker has to ask themselves as to produce a horror movie. You'd ask yourself the same kind of things if you were writing a drama: What is it like to be dumped? What is it like to lose a loved one? What is it like to be cheated on? What is it like to lose your job? What is it like to become a parent? It is asking questions like these that movies are made and scenes are written. However, there's a key, and very clear, difference between the questions you ask as to write a drama and the questions you ask as to write a horror. This difference is experience. Most people will have had some drama in their life; they will have been dumped, cheated on, have lost family or at least have seen these kind of things happen to people around them. It's knowing these details that a screenwriter can type out a script - because they know how to visualise things actually happening. This task is many, many, many times more difficult when it comes to horror. Whilst you may think you know the emotions that will surge through your body as you're faced with a werewolf because you're a human and have felt fear before, it is certain that you've never witnessed a werewolf tearing a person apart. This is exactly why horror films are so difficult to pull off and are so often terrible - the filmmakers often cannot successfully portray these fantastical events in a believable way.
The catch 22 with horror is then that, for a movie to be a horror film, it needs fantasy, but for a film to work and be effective, it needs the opposite of fantasy - it needs realism and verisimilitude. Filmmakers struggle with the genre of horror (in some aspects of the process) because this conflict between fantasy and verisimilitude is not understood or managed well. The reason there is then such a visceral negative reaction to a scene like this from Birdemic...
... is simply that we can see that the birds are fake. Whilst the filmmakers of Birdemic must have known they were making a terrible movie and embraced that, we see the same issue in a more serious film such as Hitchcock's, The Birds...
What truly makes this scene, just like the many scenes from Birdemic, terrible is not just to do with technology. Yes, there's horrific special effects in both of these films, but it is the way in which these sequences are actually written and played out that makes them so bad. For example, if you were to try and kill a bunch of attacking birds, would it look like the first image? If you were to run away from a bunch of attacking birds, would it look like the second image? The answer is, no. However, what would it actually look like if you were to fight off killer birds or run away from them? You don't really know - just as we all don't - right? These are difficult things to visualise as they are so absurd and, for the most part, unrealistic or unnatural. Even when these things do happen...
... we laugh because they're so awkward. And we've certainly all seen videos of birds attacking people - our reaction to them is never that which the makers of Birdemic or The Birds wanted to achieve though. What this implies is that the premise for both of these films is ridiculous and could only truly work if they're self-consciously stupid, or aimed towards children or people who are easily scared.
The real problem with horror is that this core problem with ridiculous horror films is also evident in the ones that you are supposed to take more seriously - films like The Wolf Man. The scene in The Wolf Man I then want to zoom in on comes at the end of the first act and is the one where Bela, in the form of a wolf, attacks and murders Gwen's friend before Larry confronts and kills it with the cane.
What I'll try to do it is put to words the way in which this scene plays out. To introduce...
JENNY and BELA sit at a table in the fortune teller's tent.
Jenny: Can you tell me when I'm going to be married?
Bela casts flowers from the table onto the ground then rests his head in his hand, pushing his fringe back, revealing a star on his forehead.
To keep things short, we'll jump ahead in the scene past the point in which Bela sees the star in Jenny's hand, implying that she is his next victim...
Bela: No, no, go away. Go quickly! Go!
Jenny: Yes! Yes, I'm going!
Jenny flees the gypsy tent, leaving Bela staring at the flowers at his feet.
MELEVA, who works in her own tent, hears the commotion. Looking to Bela's tent, she sees him stood in the entrance, head cupped in his hands.
The horse tied to a carriage nearby begins to stir.
Jenny meanwhile runs through trees, into densening fog when suddenly--
AAAAAHOOOOOOOO
The horse starts bucking and snorting, trying to break loose.
Jenny continues running.
LARRY and GWEN, still at an intimate distance, hear the howl.
Larry: What was that?
Gwen: I don't know. I've never heard anything like it before.
A sharp scream pierces through the air--
Jenny: AAAAAAAAAA!!
Larry: Stay here.
He makes for the shrill, cane at hand, leaving Gwen by the tree...
Gwen: Larry! Wait! Larry!
He hurdles tree roots that jut up from the dirt, cutting through across the skin of fog that masks the ground--stopping, seeing...
A WOLF tearing at the body of a woman.
Larry springs forward, hat flying, grabbing the wolf and pounding it with his fist. The wolf shakes him loose and pounces, immediately ripping away at Larry's chest.
Larry grabs the jaws, wrestles the wolf off himself and throws it to the ground before reaching for his cane and...
BAM
BAM
BAM
BAM
... repeatedly hammering the silver handle down... the wolf's snarls slowly subsiding...
Larry, gripping his chest, stumbles then falls away from the silenced creature.
This is scene as best as I can transcribe it and it has quite a few problems. The first is obviously the dialogue. It is too repetitive and too loud. By being too loud, I mean to suggest that it says what's in the characters heads and doesn't rely on subtext enough. For example, after hearing the werewolf howl, we get the exchange between Gwen and Harry:
Larry: What was that?
Gwen: I don't know. I've never heard anything like it before.
This can be cut out and done with facial expressions. This is difficult to put down in words as a screenwriter, however. You want to communicate, in the sharpest and clear way, that the two characters heard the howl and are scared. The dialogue is a quick, but not so great, way of putting this down. But, what would be worst than those two lines of dialogue would be the description I gave: the two characters heard the howl and are scared. This is why you see this kind of dialogue in so many movies - it isn't as blunt, it fills white space on a page, it succinctly gets a point across and is often overlookable. However, what is wrong with this approach is that, when put to film, it is clunky. This isn't always the case though. If you have great actors, they'd be able to use these lines to get across emotions that invest an audience, not make them reel back at the flat dialogue. This is a source of major anxiety for any writer - especially a screenwriter. When you write a book, you have to hope that a reader reads your words in the way they were intended to be read. In the same respect, you also have to hope an actor says your lines in the way they were meant to be said - or, better.
You cannot avoid this dilemma as a writer. However, as a screenwriter, you have a device that a novelist or playwrite does not - you have the image. This is why I suggest that you take away lines like this and let cinematic language communicate the point. However, with The Wolf Man, the recital of these lines was pretty flat and the cinematic language used to project them was mediocre. This simply means that there was no tension constructed by Waggner, Chaney or Ankers. The emotion in the scene only comes from lighting and the score. This is what has the sequence fall flat - all the devices of cinema do not come together as the acting and direction are weak links.
Now, when we move into the action sequence of this scene, we run into the biggest issue with both the script and movie. This all falls into line with all that we've been talking about in respect to fantasy in horror as well as screenwriters having never experience something like a werewolf attack. It is very evident, in the film, that neither Waggner or the screenwriter, Siodmak, have either never seen a wolf attack or been attacked by a wolf. Whilst I don't know if this is true, it certainly comes off this way. And the blame for the amateurish, kerfuffled wolf attack is certainly to be put onto the director because a screenwriter, lucky for them, gets to hide behind the ambiguity of his/her words. So, let's take a look at how I describe the attack...
He hurdles tree roots that jut up from the dirt, cutting through across the skin of fog that masks the ground--stopping, seeing...
A WOLF tearing at the body of a woman.
Larry springs forward, hat flying, grabbing the wolf and pounding it with his fist. The wolf shakes him loose and pounces, tearing at Larry's chest.
Larry grabs the jaws, wrestles the wolf off himself and throws it to the ground before reaching for his cane and...
BAM
BAM
BAM
BAM
... repeatedly hammering down the silver handle... the wolf's snarls slowly subsiding...
Larry, gripping his chest, stumbles then falls away from the silenced creature.
If you gave this to about 10 directors and asked them to film it, you'd probably get... maybe 3/4 different versions of this scene. Many would think that you'd get 10 different scenes from 10 different directors and this is arguably true. It is not very likely that you'd get the exact same scene over and over - an obvious fact. However, I say 3/4 different versions as most of the scenes would be approached in a very similar way - assuming we have a bunch of average directors. In such, you could imagine someone taking the gory and close-up approach. In this, the camera would track Larry's feet as he jumps over the roots and comes to an abrupt stop. We'd get an extreme close-up on his horrified face and then another extreme close-up on the blood, flesh and guts of the body being torn at by the wolf. We'd then proceed to get a very violent and bloody beat down of the creature - one that would likely be framed awkwardly with a shaky camera, too many cuts and a whole bunch of close-ups to mask the fact that an actor who has never been in a real fight is trying to kill a doll. Great, right? Another approach you may see is the PG 13 version of this. This scene wouldn't be so violent or dynamic, would be shot from a distance and would rely on obstruction or implication - a tree in the way or a shadow doing the beating. Again, great, right? This is what you see in The Wolf Man - a distant, static and rather tame scene that comes off as awkward. There is one redeeming factor that does jump out at you though. This is the shot with a real dog or wolf tugging at what I assume to be a doll. This would have been better if the wolf was actually thrashing about, but, the shot is a well used and pretty powerful one. Other than this... this scene is nothing special and comes off as cheap.
How do we then fix this? The answer is a simple one that you won't like: be a better writer and director. You have to find a style and approach to better convey this scene. Don't worry, I won't leave you with just this. Whilst I don't believe I have the all-powerful answer on how to make the scene better, I believe I have an approach you can choose to take and develop.
This all starts with the script and it'll now become more evident why I went on about genres, fantasy, horror and so on. To write better action sequences, you have to know what it is like to be in them. If you don't have access to this knowledge - say, for instance, you're writing a scene about a 1000 foot fish attacking a city or simply don't want to watch dogs attacking people on YouTube - we're going to have to use the power of imagination. This is probably the hardest element of writing - or, at least, I find this to be the case - as it's the most arduous and down-in-the-dirt aspect of the process. Ok, so, imagine we're in the moment in which Larry decides he will confront the wolf. Stop here. You've just come across a wolf ripping flesh off a dead woman. How does this make you feel? A mixture of things is what I'd suggest. There's that deep, acidic, sickened feeling in your gut. There's the cold wave of liquid chill that moves into your bones. There's the inclination to step back and run away. How do we put this in a script? Unfortunately, unless we we're to go experimental or cartoonish, you may have to drop a few lines. So, if you were to communicate this is in a classical, but expressive, manner, you'd imply the crumpling of eyes, fear in the pupils, sweat on the face, weak, loose and clammy hands, heels treading back over the dirt, fog wisping up at your trembling knees. If we were to take a cartoon approach, you could simply have the character turn white, gulp and have that giant bead of sweat pop off their head - maybe add some stress lines on the face with veiny, bloodshot eyes that refuse to blink. To take the more experimental route, you could take all those lines and turn them into literal images within a montage. You could then show a close-up on the man's stomach before cutting to vat of bubbling green acid that has white ice thrown on it. You could have a bone break through the icy waters of a lake and cut this into a montage of a person standing afraid (hence utilising the Kuleshov effect and not relying so much on the actor). You could even show a rapid montage that flickers between frames of each of his body parts between which the blood, guts, jaws and so on flash from the screen.
In the end, there are a vast multitude of approaches you may uncover if you stop, put yourself in a situation and think. And, having covered these three ways, you can hopefully see varied and more expressive means of communicating this one tiny detail of coming across the wolf. This is an arduous process, but I believe it can pay off. All it takes is imagining that you are in that situation, breaking that down into sensory images and finding a way to portray them. Once you have a script that does this, the director may take over and hopefully enrich it with further vision.
What's so important about horror, and where you will be truly tested as a writer, is not just in the moment where our character comes across the werewolf. It will be the sequence in which your character attacks the wolf. How does he approach the creature? How does the wolf retaliate? How does the fight play out? How can you turn that into sensory images that give the illusion that you know what it is like to fight a werewolf? These are questions I will leave you to ponder and maybe use as a tool to practice writing. In fact, I'd love to know how you would answer these questions and construct this kind of scene.
So, what you can ultimately learn from a film like The Wolf Man, which is deeply faulted because of its script and direction, is the age-old problem with horror. It is so hard to balance the fantasy with the realism; to conjure the illusion that demonstrates that these things could actually happen before your very eyes. To confront this problem you must provide the illusion that you know the scene as if its an event from your life - and to project this, you need to communicate sensory details through cinematic imagery. Whilst I say that this is true, I certainly don't consider myself particularity good at it. I, like most, am learning and working on this craft. But, given the tools, I believe the growing process is all the more effective and accessible. And so, in the end, is this helpful to you? What are your thoughts?
Black Sabbath - Something In The Air: How To Earn A Jump Scare
Black Sabbath is a conflicting film. Some parts are pretty good, other parts are pretty awful. Ultimately, however, I just found this film to be boring - frustrating even - for the most part. This may be down to the plethora of production issues with late script changes, dubbings, angles toward differing markets and studio fuckery. Nonetheless, everything around character in this film is mind-numbingly ill-conceived. All character decisions, all dialogue, all of the acting - all dog shit. The sound design is undeniably the worst thing about this movie, however. I've mentioned the dubbing, but... Jesus... I cannot think of a worse example of sound design. Not only is it incredibly cheap, but the acting is awful - and the shit the voice actors are made to spew... fuck me. However, there'd be no point in really talking about this film if there wasn't something more to be said.
So, coming to the positives, Bava's direction is intermittently interesting - as is the structuring of the script. The best story, by far, is then 'The Drop Of Water'. This short follows a woman who decides to steal the ring of a dead woman. However, the spirit of the robbed deceased clings to her, finding its way into her home where she decides to turn a whole bunch of taps on - just so they drip - all before showing up and frightening the woman to death, literally. What makes this scene so great is simply the way in which it sets up its jump scares.
Ask almost anyone who critiques or talks about film and they'll probably tell you that jump scares are the cancer of modern horror. And I agree to a certain extent. I certainly think that jump scares are often over-used and applied very poorly with no justifying set up - what's more, jump scares are usually false scares, which is pretty frustrating. That said, I certainly think that there a debate to be had (that we won't go into right now) on the philosophy of the jump scare. Nonetheless, a good example of how to use the jump scare can be found in the 'Drop Of Water' sequence of Black Sabbath.
Bava, with a little help from Frankenstein's Monster himself, Boris Karloff, warns us of and implies the horror of this short. We are then essentially told that "your about to be scared" as Karloff introduces. And even though it's cheesy, this a great technique as, after all, the scariest things in life have a warning, a 'viewer discretion advised', a rating or a mystique and danger about them that acts as a skin you must press through before being allowed to see this allegedly scary content. Karloff's introductions do this brilliantly, and if I were a 5 year old, I'm sure this film would scare the shit out of me. Unfortunately, I'm not a 5 year old and so was hoping for some tense cinematic language. And this is certainly what you get for about 15 minutes. Bava essentially has us wait... and wait... and wait... and wait... and...
...
...
...
...
..
..
.
.
.
.
... and wait... with a building tremolo of dripping taps, fear, anxiety then--
... yeah, pretty low budget special effects, but it works pretty effectively. So, if you like horror films, if you want to write a horror script or direct a horror movie, maybe check out this sequence in Black Sabbath to see a good example of how to earn a jump scare.
Beyond that, have you seen Black Sabbath? What are your thoughts?
The House Of Ghosts/Outer Space - Physical-Interactive Cinema: The Philosophy Of The Jump Scare & How It May Evolve
A talk on a kind of cinema that means to have a tangible presence and physical effect on an audience.
To start, we'll take a quick look at these films individually. The House Of Ghosts is an early silent film by Segundo de Chomón, a Spanish filmmaker who, like Méliès, used cinema almost as a stage for illusions and 'magic' tricks. This film is essentially about a trio who stumble upon a haunted cottage and are chased off by the paranormal presence that lives there. We then see great examples of why Chomón is often compared to Méliès under the guise of cinematic magic in The House Of Ghosts with the amazing, though heavily abrupt and interruptive, stop motion as well as the iconic (to early silent cinema) jump cuts and surreal imagery. If you've not seen The House Of Ghosts, I certainly recommend it for these elements that give perspective on the ingenuity and creativity present in early filmmaking. But, it's the combination of editing and surreal imagery that imply significance in this short.
Whilst faces on houses and weird demon things seem cheap at face value, they are representatives of a lasting paradigm in cinematic horror: the jump scare. And before going down the rabbit hole that I implied we would in the previous post, let's introduce Outer Space.
Outer Space is an experimental film that is arguably Peter Tscherkassky's best work. Tscherkassky himself is a very interesting filmmaker. He essentially embraces the artifice of film - actual film...
... and so uses found footage and all of the defects that can be inflicted upon it to create his own cinematic language.
There are two main effects, or achievements, of this cinematic language. The first is tantamount to the montage theorised and demonstrated by Soviet filmmakers such as Kuleshov, Pudovkin, Vertov and Eisenstein. In such, Tscherkassky utilises juxtaposition to create meaning and construct a cinematic space. But, instead of, in the simplest terms, jumping between different images as you see in Soviet montage films, Tscherkassky breaks his frame apart, double exposes, twists and folds the film to contrast one image to another. However, in Outer Space this juxtaposition is done minimalistically (in comparison to more recent films such as The Exquisite Corpus) so that the second effect of his cinematic language can be capitalised on. By contorting his frame, breaking apart his image and film, Tscherkassky produces an effect that is somewhat similar to a jump scare. Instead of there being one flash of an image that's punctuated with a huge musical beat, there is a constant flash of images (something like that seen in French Impressionist films such as Napoleon) emphasised by a cacophonous barrage of sound. In such, you get this blinding or epileptic effect in which you're almost attacked with light and sound that attempts to elongate the effects of something like a jump scare which will just go BANG or FLASH.
What you'll already be piecing together is that Outer Space and The House Of Ghosts are quite similar in their cinematic approach. But, what I want to suggest is that 'horror' as a genre can be considered in a much more complicated manner. To explore this, we will be concentrating on an idea of physical-interactive cinema and the jump scare.
As was suggested when talking about Black Sabbath, most would say, almost by reflex, that jump scares are just bad filmmaking. I would agree with this to a certain extent. Many filmmakers, like Oren Peli with the first Paranormal Activity, substitute cinematic language, atmosphere and tension for a long wait and a loud sound. This is bad filmmaking because it is over-done, lazy, repetitive and has nothing to do with narrative. But, to understand this convention and where this comes from you have to look to a film such as The House Of Ghosts.
In this film, Chomón creates a narrative around what seems to be a dare or challenge. In such, the three friends go into the house and are attacked by ghosts and disappearing chairs, but are laughing the whole way through. In my view, The House Of Ghosts is then more a comedy than it is a horror film as it seems to be designed to attract an audience who will be scared as the characters are and laugh when the characters do. This aligns with a perspective of Chomón as someone very similar to Méliès as Méliès was, of course, a performer, and in such, he didn't always create narrative films.
When he did, however, look for example to The Haunted Castle, there is often a similar sense of attraction and fun that is present in The House Of Ghosts. And in such, both Méliès and Chomón were essentially constructing films that are like simulations or rides in front of screens you find in theme parks or arcades; they were somewhat interactive.
This interaction is the basis of the kind of story telling demonstrated by Méliès and Chomón. And what this further links back to is the age-old practice of telling stories verbally. As I'm sure we've all experienced as kids, someone with a story would sit everyone down and tell everyone a creepy story about a person walking through a house with weird happenings occurring, books falling off of shelves, chairs moving - the story teller providing all the sound effects - all before that wandering person turns a corner and... RAAAAAAAAGH... the story teller roars and everyone screams or giggles. This is, in essence, the kind of cinema you see on display in The House Of Ghosts.
However, running parallel to this kind of comedy-horror experience in early cinema was the kind of narrative horror we have grown to embrace. We see a great example of this with the 1910 adaptation of Frankenstein. In this film, we don't really get any jump scares or as much interactivity. Instead, we see horrific imagery that is story-centric, like the birth of The Monster:
This is a reversal of a model being burnt to a crisp and it achieves a swelling effect that slowly terrifies. We also see this as The Monster stalks Frankenstein:
There isn't a jump cut in which The Monster just appears, roars and runs after Frankenstein. Instead, we again get a slow swelling terror of "he's going to get you". And it's this kind of horror that evolved into the classical Frankenstein of the 30s which in turn developed over the decades into a philosophy of horror that uses tension, cinematic language and a building of horror that means to deeply affect you, emotionally, through story. And in this evolution there has been a focus on psychology in horror (like that seen in the early German Expressionist masterpiece, The Cabinet Of Dr. Caligari) to produce masterpieces such as Repulsion and The Shining.
However, instead of delving too deep into how horror has evolved from the 1910 version of Frankenstein, we should be asking how the kind of horror seen in The House Of Ghosts has devolved. After all, it is clear that the jump scare, as seen in a film like Paranormal Activity, has cheapened. This is because there is no acknowledgement of the the jump scare as an interactive device, nor an acceptance that there isn't such a succinct focus on narrative in physical-interactive cinema. In such, Paranormal Activity sets itself up as a film with a story about something - a film in the same class as the 30s Frankenstein, which is about isolation, creation, evolution and mistakes. However, Paranormal Activity is ultimately just supposed to scare you so you can laugh with your friends - just as audiences sat watching Chomón's film were supposed to, and just as we, as kids being told scary stories, were supposed to. This false set up in Paranormal Activity is the cheapening factor. It says that we're supposed to care about character, plot and so on, and so comes off as contrived and horribly written when it turns out that these things aren't the focus or purpose of the movie. What we then see in many modern horror films is a misunderstanding of the physical-interactive side of horror which has ultimately lead to its de-evolution.
One possible reason as to why we are in this position is that the interactive (not physical) side of horror cinema did evolve - but died off. Exploitation cinema is very much an extension of the philosophy of cinema present in a film like The House Of Ghosts - and it made huge strides in the late 60s, through the 70s and into the early 80s. Exploitation cinema can be defined by three rules:
I outline and explained these rules when discussing Wes Craven's, The Last House On The Left. And, ultimately, these tenants of exploitation cinema are there to establish an understanding between filmmaker and audience. In short, going into an exploitation film, you are both laying down a bet and stepping up to a dare; you bet the filmmaker that they cannot show you something messed up and you accept a dare made by a filmmaker that says "you can't handle this". What this then makes clear is the interactive foundation of an exploitation film that you also see in something like The House Of Ghosts. However, you can only go so far in exploitation film before someone is arrested and sent to jail. This is what we saw with Cannibal Holocaust. Ruggero Deodato was arrested for the obscenity in this film because he simply went so far as to kill real animals and fake the deaths of his cast. It was then Cannibal Holocaust that pretty much bookended the movement of the exploitation film because it was so extreme. However, we may come to see a reprisal of the exploitation film with CGI progressing and becoming more accessible - this is what films like Irreversible possibly imply.
And this is essentially the crux of what I mean to discuss. How does the physical-interactive cinema of The House Of Ghosts return and evolve?
So, we've already explored one side to this kind of cinema - the interactive side. There is a second side and that is the tangibility of the jump scare - the physical side. For physical-interactive cinema to evolve, both of these aspects must be developed. Whilst we can see a suggestion of how the interactive side may evolve in exploitation cinema, we can also see a suggestion of how the physical side may evolve with Outer Space.
Tscherkassky's cinematic language is an expressive means of maturely communicating to an audience through physical reflexes. On the term 'physical reflexes', whilst there isn't a true difference between emotional and physical reflexes as chemicals in the neural and endocrine system dictate both, I think it makes sense to establish that a romantic or action film is different from horror or comedy film. When you watch a romance, you are often swept away by the love, passion, relationships and when you watch an action film you may be caught up in the violence, aggression and passion (of a different sort). These are, for the most part, internalised reactions to a film. However, comedy, just like horror of the class we mean to discuss, needs a laugh, scream or jolt - it needs a physical reaction. And such is the distinction I mean to make when discussing a 'physical reflex'. So, instead of achieving a simple jolt or laugh, as Chomón does, Tscherkassky blinds, has us squint or reel away, as to imply the horror and panic his protagonist endures in Outer Space. This is the power of his cinematic language and possibly a development of the jump scare as it dexterously has us feel as a character may. On a side note, this, as mentioned, builds from an Impressionist philosophy seen in films such as Napoleon, Cœur Fidèle and La Roue, so whilst this cinematic language isn't entirely original, it does show innovation in the approach.
By taking this physical approach that you could possibly suggest is neo-impressionist, you can see the maturation of cinematic language that can be incorporated into horror films. We see glimmers of this in the slasher with the use of POV...
However, by introducing a more visceral and tangible cinematic language that Tscherkassky has developed...
... the impressionist elements of horror could transcend the simple jump scare and push this embodiment of character even further. This could be further assisted with 3D - and possibly give filmmakers another chance to utilise 3D as a cinematic device (as it seems to, again, have petered out). Moreover, the use of vibrating, moving chairs that you see in some cinemas could add further physicality. What filmmakers could thus develop in the future of horror is an approach that understands the tangibility of cinema and the physical reactions of an audience, which would capitalise on the experience that horror is supposed to be.
So, bringing back the interactive side of this kind of cinema, what I ultimately believe could be the next movement in horror could be the impressionistic exploitation picture. If it was the killing of animals and the torture porn that made films like Cannibal Holocaust so horrifying, but also hit that dead end, then the use of CGI could open up new grounds for filmmakers to explore. In such, without legal ramifications, truly gruesome content could be believably projected onto screens. And there wouldn't be that simplicity and inevitable dead end in the gore because it wouldn't have to constantly escalate (as had to happen with the exploitation picture). This is because the impressionistic side of this physical-interactive cinema would embellish the gore and provide a plethora of directions filmmakers could take with their cinematic language - hopefully adding longevity and scope to the approach.
Ultimately, what I mean to convey with an idea of physical-interactive horror is then a new kind of film that is somewhat mature and complex in its directorial approach, but truly entertaining and immersive for an audience consuming it. What are your thoughts on this suggestion? As a film lover or filmmaker, can you see it going anywhere?
And if you haven't seen the films we've been discussing, here are some links to them on YouTube:
To start, we'll take a quick look at these films individually. The House Of Ghosts is an early silent film by Segundo de Chomón, a Spanish filmmaker who, like Méliès, used cinema almost as a stage for illusions and 'magic' tricks. This film is essentially about a trio who stumble upon a haunted cottage and are chased off by the paranormal presence that lives there. We then see great examples of why Chomón is often compared to Méliès under the guise of cinematic magic in The House Of Ghosts with the amazing, though heavily abrupt and interruptive, stop motion as well as the iconic (to early silent cinema) jump cuts and surreal imagery. If you've not seen The House Of Ghosts, I certainly recommend it for these elements that give perspective on the ingenuity and creativity present in early filmmaking. But, it's the combination of editing and surreal imagery that imply significance in this short.
Whilst faces on houses and weird demon things seem cheap at face value, they are representatives of a lasting paradigm in cinematic horror: the jump scare. And before going down the rabbit hole that I implied we would in the previous post, let's introduce Outer Space.
Outer Space is an experimental film that is arguably Peter Tscherkassky's best work. Tscherkassky himself is a very interesting filmmaker. He essentially embraces the artifice of film - actual film...
... and so uses found footage and all of the defects that can be inflicted upon it to create his own cinematic language.
There are two main effects, or achievements, of this cinematic language. The first is tantamount to the montage theorised and demonstrated by Soviet filmmakers such as Kuleshov, Pudovkin, Vertov and Eisenstein. In such, Tscherkassky utilises juxtaposition to create meaning and construct a cinematic space. But, instead of, in the simplest terms, jumping between different images as you see in Soviet montage films, Tscherkassky breaks his frame apart, double exposes, twists and folds the film to contrast one image to another. However, in Outer Space this juxtaposition is done minimalistically (in comparison to more recent films such as The Exquisite Corpus) so that the second effect of his cinematic language can be capitalised on. By contorting his frame, breaking apart his image and film, Tscherkassky produces an effect that is somewhat similar to a jump scare. Instead of there being one flash of an image that's punctuated with a huge musical beat, there is a constant flash of images (something like that seen in French Impressionist films such as Napoleon) emphasised by a cacophonous barrage of sound. In such, you get this blinding or epileptic effect in which you're almost attacked with light and sound that attempts to elongate the effects of something like a jump scare which will just go BANG or FLASH.
What you'll already be piecing together is that Outer Space and The House Of Ghosts are quite similar in their cinematic approach. But, what I want to suggest is that 'horror' as a genre can be considered in a much more complicated manner. To explore this, we will be concentrating on an idea of physical-interactive cinema and the jump scare.
As was suggested when talking about Black Sabbath, most would say, almost by reflex, that jump scares are just bad filmmaking. I would agree with this to a certain extent. Many filmmakers, like Oren Peli with the first Paranormal Activity, substitute cinematic language, atmosphere and tension for a long wait and a loud sound. This is bad filmmaking because it is over-done, lazy, repetitive and has nothing to do with narrative. But, to understand this convention and where this comes from you have to look to a film such as The House Of Ghosts.
In this film, Chomón creates a narrative around what seems to be a dare or challenge. In such, the three friends go into the house and are attacked by ghosts and disappearing chairs, but are laughing the whole way through. In my view, The House Of Ghosts is then more a comedy than it is a horror film as it seems to be designed to attract an audience who will be scared as the characters are and laugh when the characters do. This aligns with a perspective of Chomón as someone very similar to Méliès as Méliès was, of course, a performer, and in such, he didn't always create narrative films.
When he did, however, look for example to The Haunted Castle, there is often a similar sense of attraction and fun that is present in The House Of Ghosts. And in such, both Méliès and Chomón were essentially constructing films that are like simulations or rides in front of screens you find in theme parks or arcades; they were somewhat interactive.
This interaction is the basis of the kind of story telling demonstrated by Méliès and Chomón. And what this further links back to is the age-old practice of telling stories verbally. As I'm sure we've all experienced as kids, someone with a story would sit everyone down and tell everyone a creepy story about a person walking through a house with weird happenings occurring, books falling off of shelves, chairs moving - the story teller providing all the sound effects - all before that wandering person turns a corner and... RAAAAAAAAGH... the story teller roars and everyone screams or giggles. This is, in essence, the kind of cinema you see on display in The House Of Ghosts.
However, running parallel to this kind of comedy-horror experience in early cinema was the kind of narrative horror we have grown to embrace. We see a great example of this with the 1910 adaptation of Frankenstein. In this film, we don't really get any jump scares or as much interactivity. Instead, we see horrific imagery that is story-centric, like the birth of The Monster:
This is a reversal of a model being burnt to a crisp and it achieves a swelling effect that slowly terrifies. We also see this as The Monster stalks Frankenstein:
There isn't a jump cut in which The Monster just appears, roars and runs after Frankenstein. Instead, we again get a slow swelling terror of "he's going to get you". And it's this kind of horror that evolved into the classical Frankenstein of the 30s which in turn developed over the decades into a philosophy of horror that uses tension, cinematic language and a building of horror that means to deeply affect you, emotionally, through story. And in this evolution there has been a focus on psychology in horror (like that seen in the early German Expressionist masterpiece, The Cabinet Of Dr. Caligari) to produce masterpieces such as Repulsion and The Shining.
However, instead of delving too deep into how horror has evolved from the 1910 version of Frankenstein, we should be asking how the kind of horror seen in The House Of Ghosts has devolved. After all, it is clear that the jump scare, as seen in a film like Paranormal Activity, has cheapened. This is because there is no acknowledgement of the the jump scare as an interactive device, nor an acceptance that there isn't such a succinct focus on narrative in physical-interactive cinema. In such, Paranormal Activity sets itself up as a film with a story about something - a film in the same class as the 30s Frankenstein, which is about isolation, creation, evolution and mistakes. However, Paranormal Activity is ultimately just supposed to scare you so you can laugh with your friends - just as audiences sat watching Chomón's film were supposed to, and just as we, as kids being told scary stories, were supposed to. This false set up in Paranormal Activity is the cheapening factor. It says that we're supposed to care about character, plot and so on, and so comes off as contrived and horribly written when it turns out that these things aren't the focus or purpose of the movie. What we then see in many modern horror films is a misunderstanding of the physical-interactive side of horror which has ultimately lead to its de-evolution.
One possible reason as to why we are in this position is that the interactive (not physical) side of horror cinema did evolve - but died off. Exploitation cinema is very much an extension of the philosophy of cinema present in a film like The House Of Ghosts - and it made huge strides in the late 60s, through the 70s and into the early 80s. Exploitation cinema can be defined by three rules:
1. It is a concept that the exploitation film exploits, one that is fixated on to an extreme.
2. Characters do not exist in exploitation films; they are caricatures or pawns for audience and filmmaker.
3. The exploitation film, at its best, is intimate.
I outline and explained these rules when discussing Wes Craven's, The Last House On The Left. And, ultimately, these tenants of exploitation cinema are there to establish an understanding between filmmaker and audience. In short, going into an exploitation film, you are both laying down a bet and stepping up to a dare; you bet the filmmaker that they cannot show you something messed up and you accept a dare made by a filmmaker that says "you can't handle this". What this then makes clear is the interactive foundation of an exploitation film that you also see in something like The House Of Ghosts. However, you can only go so far in exploitation film before someone is arrested and sent to jail. This is what we saw with Cannibal Holocaust. Ruggero Deodato was arrested for the obscenity in this film because he simply went so far as to kill real animals and fake the deaths of his cast. It was then Cannibal Holocaust that pretty much bookended the movement of the exploitation film because it was so extreme. However, we may come to see a reprisal of the exploitation film with CGI progressing and becoming more accessible - this is what films like Irreversible possibly imply.
And this is essentially the crux of what I mean to discuss. How does the physical-interactive cinema of The House Of Ghosts return and evolve?
So, we've already explored one side to this kind of cinema - the interactive side. There is a second side and that is the tangibility of the jump scare - the physical side. For physical-interactive cinema to evolve, both of these aspects must be developed. Whilst we can see a suggestion of how the interactive side may evolve in exploitation cinema, we can also see a suggestion of how the physical side may evolve with Outer Space.
Tscherkassky's cinematic language is an expressive means of maturely communicating to an audience through physical reflexes. On the term 'physical reflexes', whilst there isn't a true difference between emotional and physical reflexes as chemicals in the neural and endocrine system dictate both, I think it makes sense to establish that a romantic or action film is different from horror or comedy film. When you watch a romance, you are often swept away by the love, passion, relationships and when you watch an action film you may be caught up in the violence, aggression and passion (of a different sort). These are, for the most part, internalised reactions to a film. However, comedy, just like horror of the class we mean to discuss, needs a laugh, scream or jolt - it needs a physical reaction. And such is the distinction I mean to make when discussing a 'physical reflex'. So, instead of achieving a simple jolt or laugh, as Chomón does, Tscherkassky blinds, has us squint or reel away, as to imply the horror and panic his protagonist endures in Outer Space. This is the power of his cinematic language and possibly a development of the jump scare as it dexterously has us feel as a character may. On a side note, this, as mentioned, builds from an Impressionist philosophy seen in films such as Napoleon, Cœur Fidèle and La Roue, so whilst this cinematic language isn't entirely original, it does show innovation in the approach.
By taking this physical approach that you could possibly suggest is neo-impressionist, you can see the maturation of cinematic language that can be incorporated into horror films. We see glimmers of this in the slasher with the use of POV...
However, by introducing a more visceral and tangible cinematic language that Tscherkassky has developed...
... the impressionist elements of horror could transcend the simple jump scare and push this embodiment of character even further. This could be further assisted with 3D - and possibly give filmmakers another chance to utilise 3D as a cinematic device (as it seems to, again, have petered out). Moreover, the use of vibrating, moving chairs that you see in some cinemas could add further physicality. What filmmakers could thus develop in the future of horror is an approach that understands the tangibility of cinema and the physical reactions of an audience, which would capitalise on the experience that horror is supposed to be.
So, bringing back the interactive side of this kind of cinema, what I ultimately believe could be the next movement in horror could be the impressionistic exploitation picture. If it was the killing of animals and the torture porn that made films like Cannibal Holocaust so horrifying, but also hit that dead end, then the use of CGI could open up new grounds for filmmakers to explore. In such, without legal ramifications, truly gruesome content could be believably projected onto screens. And there wouldn't be that simplicity and inevitable dead end in the gore because it wouldn't have to constantly escalate (as had to happen with the exploitation picture). This is because the impressionistic side of this physical-interactive cinema would embellish the gore and provide a plethora of directions filmmakers could take with their cinematic language - hopefully adding longevity and scope to the approach.
Ultimately, what I mean to convey with an idea of physical-interactive horror is then a new kind of film that is somewhat mature and complex in its directorial approach, but truly entertaining and immersive for an audience consuming it. What are your thoughts on this suggestion? As a film lover or filmmaker, can you see it going anywhere?
And if you haven't seen the films we've been discussing, here are some links to them on YouTube:
Outer Space (1999)
The Shining/Repulsion - The Evolution Of Horror
The Shining/Repulsion - The Evolution Of Horror
A continuation of the previous post.
It has become apparent to me that, across a few posts, I've been building towards something of a point. My last four post on horror films looked at The Last House On The Left, The Wolf Man, Black Sabbath and then The House Of Ghosts and Outer Space. And in looking at these films I've been identifying what I like about horror and areas in which it can possibly be improved. I of course don't mean to suggest that I have all the answers, just some sense of a theory on how horror films could change. And so, what I mean to do now by looking at my two favourite horror films, is suggest something of an idealistic change in horror as a genre.
So, as I've said before, I'm not a big fan of horror films. The main issue, the age-old issue, with horror is that it is a form of fantasy, but one that is very difficult to project. This is because horror needs realism to be visceral and impactful, but fantasy needs freedom to be immersive and captivating. In The Wolf Man, I try to suggest a different approach to script and direction that has a concentration on turning horrific details into images of sensory information - a way of writing that puts the screenwriter in the boots of a character so they may write from a more genuine place. I believe this would greatly improve the action in horror films and reverse the trope that suggests all horror movie characters have to be dumb. A good example of where this improvement could be made is the infamous closet scene in Halloween.
Laurie gets into this position after thinking Myers was killed. She finds the kids and tries to console them and - BAM - there's Mike. Her reaction is to run into the room here, push Tommy and Lindsey into a closet and get them to lock themselves in. Ok. Stop. You may be thinking that this is an awful decision and that Laurie is essentially dealing these two kids a death sentence. Well, she isn't. She can't climb out of the window she implies she could - not with the two kids. So, this decision she makes here is probably the best she could have made under such pressure. HOWEVER, we need some registry of the difficulty of this decision through cinematic language. In such, we shouldn't have just seen her push the kids in the closet and tell them to lock the door (and, yeah, Myers would have heard that). We should have at least had a close-up that expressed Laurie's fear and uncertainty as she pushed the kids in. Moreover, the moment in which Myers walks into the room could have been elongated - he could have looked out the window. And in that moment, we could have been given an image of the kids' closet in the background to add further tension. We don't get any of this, however. This is because Carpenter was probably more focused on this excellent set-piece in the closet - which is great. But, he shouldn't have forgotten character as, from this iffy decision of Laurie's, could have come a lot more tension.
What I'm beginning to imply is a more character-centric kind of horror. This is how I believe horror scripts can be better written. When it comes to direction and editing, we should take a quick look back to the last post on physical-interactive cinema. In this post I talk about a form of cinema that is best represented by the comedy-horror experiences you could get in the early silent era.
These films knew they effected their audience in a physical way - they had jump scares - but, embraced this with their interactive nature - like the breaks of the fourth wall and the understanding that these are contrived experiences. This approach to cinema has not really evolved, and I suggest how it could possibly do this by learning from the narrative approach taken by films of the exploitation period around the 70s and by adopting formal strategies from Peter Tscherkassky, who uses a very physical and tangible kind of cinematic language.
In such, a new form of impressionistic exploitation picture could be developed where characters are used as explicit vessels for us to truly experience horror through. The importance of exploitation here would emphasise the boundary pushing (using new technology) that could be opened up with a new formal approach of physical and tangible form - as implied by Tscherkassky's work. I could see this opening up the fun side of horror films and re-introducing the idea of experience. After all, I have never sat down to watch a modern horror film and felt anything like the interactivity and dare/challenge dichotomy present in exploitation pictures.
Ok, by now, we've covered, in brief detail, the major points discussed in each of the previous posts. However, whilst I believe the experience of horror films needs to evolve and that this is a possible way in which that may occur, I recognise that I've completely disregarded a whole other class of horror - a class briefly touched on with the reference to the 1910 version of Frankenstein. This is why I bring all of this up under the guise of Repulsion and The Shining. Neither of these films have an exploitation or physical-interactive basis. They certainly have elements of jump scares, gore, exploitation and entertaining horror, but, what makes these films great is their psychological and 'artistic' side. In such, what we see in The Shining and Repulsion is a somewhat modernist approach to horror. Modernist films, like 8 1/2, Cries & Whispers, The Mirror, Ordet and Persona, all handle character in a manner that very few other movies do. They push into a psychological space to represent characters through cinematic imagery. Just look to the opening of 8 1/2...
... the flashbacks of Cries & Whispers...
... the construction of memory in The Mirror...
... the resolution of Ordet...
... the opening of Persona...
All of these scenes and details are representations of the best cinema has to offer; you do not get to be more cinematically profound than Bergman, Tarkovsky, Dreyer and Fellini. There are very few that step up to this modernist height of cinema. We get the surrealists like Buñuel...
... we also have Lynch, Jodorowsky, Kurosawa and a handful of other masters...
However, how many horror films fit into this realm? In my opinion, very few. The only two I know can confidently cite are...
What these two film do is build upon the classical horror films like Frankenstein, Dracula, The Cabinet Of Dr. Caligari and Nosferatu by injecting a tangibly psychological element into them. This works so successfully as it understands the narrative focus of these kinds of films - that which films such as The House Of Ghosts, The Haunted Castle or even The Last House On The Left and The Night Of The Living Dead do not have. In such, physical-interactive and exploitation cinema do not have that sense of being an 'actual film'.Whilst the late 80s and 90s Batman films where just comic book movies...
... Nolan's trilogy is more widely accepted as 'actual films'...
And I see this dichotomy to be true when you compare Halloween, The Wolf Man, The Last House On The Left or Black Sabbath to The Shining or Repulsion. And so, what I ultimately think would allow horror as a genre to evolve further would be the incorporation of all we've discussed in relation to exploitation, the problem with fantasy and horror, the jump scare and psychical-interactive cinema into 'true narratives' - traditional narratives with a modernist twist. In such, all surrealism, action, fantasy, psychical-interactivity and entertainment can be funneled into narratives that have psychological, character-centric foundations, but impressionistic forms that learn from exploitation. The type of film I then mean to imply that needs to be created is equivalent to The Shining or Repulsion, but technologically updated and approached through a variety of formal pathways.
What I ultimately mean to implore here isn't simple and should not result in one film, but a movement based on a philosophy of the horror film as an important genre that can funnel through it psychology, character, surrealism, absurdism, fantasy, religion, myth, monsters, meaning, subtext and so much more. The reason why, though I am not a huge fan of the genre, I am incredibly interested with horror as a concept is that it is a genre that is almost as versatile as science fiction - my favourite genre. Horror has that aspect of fantasy that sci-fi does, but doesn't have that same need for realism and verisimilitude. And because of this, horror should be a playground for filmmakers willing to make great movies for adults. By taking the impressionistic/modernist approach I mean to imply that horror films can do and be so much more - all whilst having substance. So, just as Repulsion and The Shining are deeply immersive and entertaining, they have subtext and a lot of depth. Why can't all horror films have this as well as play with formal strategies? After all, there are so many parts and avenues to explore that I've tried to outline. These different ingredients can be applied in differing ratios to produce a more respectable image around horror. Horror doesn't have to mean cheap fun, it doesn't have to mean dumb movies with dumb characters, dumb plot lines and dumb audiences. Horror as a genre has so much more going for it than what is capitalised on in contemporary, mainstream cinema.
So, to you who is reading this, do you think horror movies could be better? Do I make any sense, or are there other avenues and possibilities I've overlooked?
And that's it. A huge thanks to anyone who got all the way through this - though I doubt anyone will ever be reading these words. Nonetheless, thanks.
