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| Arachnophobia 1990 |
What is fear but
a trick we’re able to play on ourselves, and others? Some people seek to avoid
it while others crash headlong towards their spine tingling conclusion. Phobias can of course play a big part
and cloud our senses with panic. Try telling someone who has a fear of heights
that a bungee jump will give them a thrill.
“No thanks!” They’ll say. Or words, which
have a similar, meaning. If you have a friend who has a fear of spiders then
try and get them to sit still while watching Frank Marshalls 1990 horror
comedy, Arachnophobia. It’s like a human version of Buckaroo!
I
recall visiting the cinema with a friend to watch Arachnophobia armed only with
a paper bag full of chocolate mice. Honestly I don’t actually think I’ve heard
as many squeals of terror at the cinema since – And I’ve seen Waterworld!
Thankfully I wasn’t one of the many people who were constantly flinching, as I’ve
never been too bothered by our crazy eight-legged friends. I can safely say,
without hesitation, that one of my favorite childhood memories was when fear
forced a much older teenage girl to leap sideways in her chair and briefly grab
hold of my skinny frame for comfort. My smile was tattooed on my face for well
over a week. I’ve had an understanding with spiders ever since.
When
we look at film genres we once again find horror cast adrift in unusual waters.
When we watch, for example, a thriller we tend to simply review it on the basis
of whether it was a good or bad viewing experience. Of course as cinema has
developed, so has its audience. Nowadays you can be down the pub with your
mates talk about films and use words like “cinematography” without running the
risk of a good kicking. Essentially though if there’s a good performance or
story line the masses are happy. However, a horror film can look like beautiful
art but if it’s not scary then it will usually be given zero credit. Is this
fair? Well I’ll let you think that over.
Fear
is a complex emotion indeed. I could quote the dictionary definition or write from
a psychology journal but I wouldn’t be doing it justice. What I want you to do
before you (hopefully) read on is think of a moment when horror has struck fear
into your very being…………………………………………………………………….
Did you go back to that uncomfortable place
again? Flashes of terror play out on your skin? You see fear is within you but
when it has fuel it comes out to play. It can grow and become a separate entity
and before you know it, what was once inside your mind is now swallowing you
whole like the whale that blindly takes Pinocchio away in the 1940 Disney
animated film.
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| Arachnophobia 1990 |
For
an individual the finer points of their fear can be as exclusive as their own
fingerprint. What scares one person may in fact make another laugh out loud.
Spiders didn’t make me squeal in the cinema but my sister probably hasn’t even
managed to watch Arachnophobia yet. Now this isn’t an opportunity to write
myself into seeming like the brave alpha male (we all know what happens to them
in horror movies). Lets just say that I’m relieved I haven’t encountered a film
about moths killing people or I would probably hyperventilate. Apparently a
particularly unpleasant episode regarding the fluttery spawn of Satan has lead
to them managing to deprive me of my masculinity every time I’m confronted by a
mid to large moth. Every time I think I’ve grown out of this phobia a large
moth as big as a hand (probably as big as a thumb) tracks me down and we begin
our ridiculous duel afresh. They’re not happy until I’ve done my “scalded
ballerina dance.”
These
of course are obvious phobias and you can only make so many films that cater to
these narrow audiences. Horror films assault your senses by throwing fear bombs
in front of the camera so you are hit with a range of terrifying scenarios.
This I think is where good horror filmmakers deserve their respect. It must be
difficult to stay within the boundaries of your story and manipulate the will
of your viewers while fighting the urge to clumsily throw every trick in the
horror book at them.
Age must
also play a part in the evolution of our own fear. In your teens its an
unwritten rule that you can’t admit that a film has really scared you. The
admission of fear is reserved for those moments when you’re alone in the dark
not for when you’re sat on your BMX talking to girls! Does this denial help
numb the sensation of fear when we were younger? Is it only when you allow life
experience into the mix that we really begin to dwell on what is waiting for us
in the shadows? When I was a teen, I thought I was bulletproof. Thoughts of
death were for the old and there was more chance of me sitting down with a
pension advisor than waste time worrying about dying.
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| Sinister 2012 |
Morbidly
I was right of course. The more you see, the more you worry. Why do you think
most horrors are a social commentary? Even if that comment is, “there are bad
people out there who will lock you away in a place where others won’t hear you
scream.” The media tells us daily of what atrocities a human can inflict on
another human and so our nightmares become real. The “right” kind of onscreen
nightmare can become more believable because we think to ourselves, “that
reminds me of that serial killer I read about.” Those sickos actually exist
now!
My
nephew Liam watched Sinister (2012) at the cinema before I viewed it at home
with my wife. I’d asked him beforehand what it was like and he replied,
“Not that scary.”
I personally found the super-8 footage
(particularly the hanging) the film used pretty disturbing and found myself
thinking about them at random times for a few weeks later. My wife missed some
of the key scenes due to creating a blindfold with her hand. So had our older
minds invested more in what Ethan Hawke and his onscreen family were going
through? Did we care about them more rather than adopt the “right film try and
scare the pants off me” approach my nephew had? Or is it that our idea of fear
in horror movies changes as we age?
Liam
argued that there hadn’t been enough in the film to make him jump and I think
that’s where it failed him as a “scary film.” Of course these short, sharp,
shocks only work for so long. You could argue that the more experienced the
mind, the more chance it has of seeing the set ups to these “jumpy” scenes and
so take the edge off the fright they evoke. Its interesting that Liam wanted an
instant hit of fear while my mind was happy to mull the film over afterwards
and build on it’s fiendish foundations. However, as a teenager, my nephews mind
matures daily and so I asked him what does he find scary about films now.
“In my opinion a scary film is the build of
a story with the finish making me jump. The scariest thing I’ve watched is the
original Grudge or maybe The Ring and/or The Shining – All for their
originality and differences.”
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| Ring Zero 2000 |
So as
the mind matures and our tastes change does our fear grow and change into a new
beast altogether? Certainly it’s interesting that Liam acknowledges three films
that assault you psychologically rather than shocking you with blood and guts.
Looking down the hotel corridor towards the ghosts of twin girls seems more
terrifying now than it ever did. Now we have more to lose but at the same time
we’re more curious than ever. We want to look away but we can’t, and what we
cannot see we make worse in our minds. I’m also surprised with my nephew’s choices,
as you will see as you read on. Maybe genetics play a part in where we find
fear? Alas this clown is out of his depth there.
So what film has
scared me the most in recent times? Ring Zero (2000) in particular filled me
with dread. For some reason the Japanese horror industry has managed to tap
into my darkest fears. Stuff I didn’t realise would worry me has had me looking
away from the screen to catch my breath. I imagine there will be plenty of
people who were not troubled at all by this series of films but for some reason
I was gripped in the ice cold embrace of Sadako throughout. I feel the same
about Ju-on: The Grudge (2002). I’m unsure whether it’s the implied deaths
rather than gore that let my imagination run away with itself or whether it’s
the stark, almost cold environments that fill me up with terror. Whatever, it
is I’m caught in the trap that these films have set. They have tapped into
something and I can’t remove their claws from my soul.
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| Ring 2 1999 |
I was still living at home when, late one night, I watched Ring 2 (1999) for the first time. As the credits rolled something rattled the garden fence at the rear of the house. I chanced a fearful peak through my bedroom curtains and felt my heart nearly smash through my ribs. Sadako herself was standing in our back garden! The hairs on the back of my neck stood up to be counted and I was frozen to the spot with eyes the size of plates. Turns out my mum had left a white bed sheet on the clothesline. A cat sat on top of our fence and viewed me with pity, oblivious to the powers of Japanese horror.
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