Horror movies are interesting. I remember developing a fascination with them at a young age--waiting for my mom to finish up some late work at her office, I would find myself drawn to the hundreds of idle computers that filled up the cubicles of her office building. While dealing with the torpor of dial up internet, I watched clips of horror films. I would go so far as to look up the most violent horror movie sequences I could find--Zombie may have done some damage, with its slow and brutal eye stabbing scene. I knew the violence wasn’t real, even as a five year old, but I liked the churning in the pit of my stomach that it inspired. It felt innate, and that was frightening because, for the first time, I felt a feeling dormant in the human condition being awakened.
I was telling a friend about this bizarre memory the other night at The New York Deli, while sipping on an IPA draught, gesticulating with wild hand movements, in a slightly drunken stupor. I probably looked silly from a stranger's perspective, but I was trying to solve a strange mystery from my childhood. It's only now, with my horror fandom in decline since the emergence of torture horror and films whose only shocks come from the oscillation of quiet to loud music at tense moments, that I'm trying to figure this out. I forget how the conversation began, but it ended with a feeling that hearkens back to a time before civilization. I was thinking about how the autonomic nervous system (ANS) played a part in our survival, and how that ties to my childhood fascination with the grotesque and darker parts of the human psyche. What happens to the ANS when we experience danger?
The ANS is part of our peripheral nervous system and acts as a control device for our internal organs, including the heart. When we're in danger, this system goes into overdrive, cutting off certain unnecessary functions to focus on others, such as heartbeat. An increase in heart rate directly affects the brain, just as a stimulant would, rendering the person hyper-aware and primed for fight or flight. What's interesting, though, is the way this affects us when there is no actual danger. We no longer hunt for survival, crime is on the decline and unlikely to occur in most situations, and we have no natural predators any longer. Civilization has depleted the dangers we once faced regularly.
But civilization is boring. Horror films simulate the hardwired adrenaline rush of panic, which is, to a certain degree, pleasurable. What was once a survival instinct now becomes a way for thrill seekers to seek stimulation--to get high. I think this is why people watch horror films--to curb their appetite for excitement without taking real risks; to get high on the false sense of danger horror movies give them. What this says about myself as a child, I know not, but it is interesting to contemplate. And if you find yourself in the market for a safe adrenaline rush, Netflix is always here to help. So without further ado, I bring to you the latest installment of Netflix Nerdery: five horror films to satisfy your craving for (fictional) danger.
The Cabin In The Woods
Although it is hard to know where all the references in the movie come from, this strange horror film seems to be an ode to the filmmakers who created the "teenagers in peril" subgenre decades ago, and a refutation of all the more recent gore/torture-obsessed films. Cabin is an wild and astonishing meta-feat, which can be funny, scary, or bizarre--usually all at once. The story is purposely similar to a lot of movies you've seen before--five college students make a trip to a remote cabin in the woods, frightening things ensue. All the strange and familiar nuances of the typical horror film present themselves in the beginning, but as the movie progresses it starts to become a more complicated puzzle, with unexpected twists and turns. Just when you think you are starting to get it, you'll find that you are completely wrong. This is a really nice change-up from all the bland, predictable horror films coming out in America these days. I was particularly impressed with Fran Kranz's shockingly realistic portrayal of a typical movie stoner. I personally would have ended the movie with a different scene from the film, but overall, writer Joss Whedon and co-writer/director Drew Goddard put together one hell of a genre-bending American horror film.
Rosemary’s Baby
Rosemary’s Baby may be one of the best horror films of all time. Many people would argue with this, and I would silently allow them to be wrong and never converse with them again. Released in 1968, Rosemary’s Baby was one of a kind. Part of a series of Roman Polanski films which became known as the Apartment Trilogy, Rosemary's Baby was the only supernatural horror film. And these films--Repulsion, Rosemary’s Baby, and The Tenant--became a huge part of Polanski’s success as a director.
Horror films are often based on the sort of realistic fears that keep people up at night. Rosemary’s Baby plays off the fears associated with childbirth: not knowing the extent of the physical changes the body will undergo, concerns about the baby’s health... and of course, the possibility that the baby growing inside the womb may be the literal spawn of Satan. The story opens with a loving couple, Rosemary (Mia Farrow) and Guy (John Cassavetes), moving into a new apartment that just hit the market due to a mysterious death. They are befriended by an elderly couple living next door, who immediately decide they are ready for a baby, and that’s when things start to go awry. Maybe you know what happens next, but even if you've seen it before, Rosemary's Baby is always worth a repeat view.
The Omen
To continue with the theme of the devil's presence in horror films, let's talk about The Omen. The making of this film came with its own legend - a series of unfortunate and seemingly unconnected events surrounded the production, including lightning strikes, bombing of a cafe by the NRA, and the decapitation of the makeup artist’s female companion in a car accident. The decapitation incident was specifically striking since there is a grisly scene in the film involving a decapitation. But I digress.
This little film was quite disturbing upon its 1976 release. It was very violent, and made a child the evil force at work in the film. The first time I saw The Omen, I felt really strange about wanting to see a child get killed. The storyline was effective, though. The movie starts with the newborn son of US government official Robert Thorne (Gregory Peck) and his wife Katherine (Lee Remick) dying shortly after birth. Out of concern for his wife’s mental health, the grieving Robert is convinced by a priest to adopt an orphan whose mother died at the same moment. A series of strange events begin to plague the Thornes; people surrounding them die, most notably when Damien’s babysitter publicly hangs herself at his fifth birthday party. Soon, Robert is pitted with the forces of hell and has to overcome a moral dilemma: if you had to, could you kill a child?
Stephen King’s Pet Sematary
First off, read the book before you see the movie. It is much better and goes way more into depth about the psyche of protagonist Louis Creed. This is important because you have to understand someone’s pain over losing a child to understand why the fuck they would reanimate their dead child without thinking, "Hmm, maybe my son won’t be the same as he once was." The movie and book play off of our deep fear of losing loved ones, and the lengths to which we would go to bring them back, if we could. And while the book is better, the movie does feature an abundance of visceral thrills. The story is this: The Creed family moves from Chicago to the small town of Ludlow, Maine. They end up befriending their elderly neighbor, Jud Crandall, who takes them to the isolated pet cemetery (misspelled "Sematary" on a sign at the entrance) behind the Creeds' new home. The cemetery was built on an indian burial ground and it is soon revealed that whatever is buried there comes back to life, as a less than lively version of itself. When the Creed’s son Gage is hit by a car, the family is devastated and starts to fall apart. The heartbroken Mr. Creed soon starts to consider the unthinkable. The book and movie leave you contemplating the famous line, spoken by Jud Crandall: “Sometimes, dead is better.”
Audition
The great and controversial Japanese director Takashi Miike put together this disturbing little gem of horror. The film is a devilishly brutal piece that is even more imaginatively gory than the works of Italian director Dario Argento. It has a very slow pace, with a series of scenes that seem disjointed, almost dreamlike, and eventually climaxes in one of the more disturbing scenes I have witnessed in a movie. I would probably have sworn off horror completely if I had seen it during my childhood infatuation with the genre. But this doesn’t make the film any less compelling, it is a masterpiece of turning the mundane and familiar into something eerie. I'm not really capable of putting the plot together for you (multiple viewings are necessary - if you can stomach it); that’s for you to decipher. But here’s the synopsis Netflix gives you:
Shigeharu Aoyama (Ryo Ishibashi) has lived as a widower for too long and decides it's time to marry again. But how will he find a wife? When a friend suggests he hold a fake audition to pick the right woman, he takes him up on it -- only to realize that his choice may be a better actress than he bargained for.
That may not sound all that frightening, but trust me--this movie will have your heart racing for sure.