Posted on Monday 31 October 2005
I love the horror genre, though my preferences differ from what most associate with the name. For me, horror is about character and the human condition — how does one behave in an extreme situation and what does that tell us about ourselves. Sure, most of what’s marketed as horror is about bodycounts and grossing out the audience, but I find horror most compelling when its concerned with human frailty and morality.
Some of the novels I unconventionally consider "horror" (or horror hybrids) take horrific situations and emphasize the humanity of the characters. In my mind Octavia Butler’s Xenogenesis and Parable books count as horror tales. In Xenogenesis, humanity is wiped out by nuclear war, save for a handful of individuals saved by an alien race that is constantly questing to add genetic diversity to its people. The struggle of survival and the bleakness of the nearly-dead planet combine with these few remaining humans seeing the end for their kind near, as their race will only exist as half-alien descendants. Meanwhile, The Parable of the Sower and The Parable of the Talents are set in a world where ecological disasters have brought about economic catastrophe. Both books are about people struggling to find their civility in a world where civilization has lost its supports.
I also find Garth Nix very effective in his ventures into horror. In the world of Sabriel, there are two types of magic — the legitimate charter magic and the way of the necromancer. The titular character’s father is the only good necromancer — he fights those who try to resist death. Having trained under her father, Sabriel is far more familiar with the ways of death and death magic than a young woman would be in a fair world and can feel it when a soul passes from the physical plane into death. The creatures of death hold no value to life that’s not their own and Sabriel feels it every time — the very ability that will help her fight their hideous schemes make her feel them even more strongly. It’s not such a rarity to find villains who hold little value to the lives of innocents, but Nix makes sure the reader fully feels the dark heart that can feel like that.
The concept of Nix’s Shade’s Children is like a horrific cross between The Matrix and Logan’s Run. In a world of orphans, children grow up knowing their fourteenth birthday will be their last… and on that day they are fated to be turned to material for the robotic gladiators that police this bleak world. Like in Sabriel, this is a story set in a world run by cruel masters with little value for life, though Shade’s Children focuses on those hoping to be saved while Sabriel focuses on the one who hopes to be their savior.
The first horror film I saw was Damien: Omen II, a film that still can chill me, despite how I now can see its flaws. A good part of what makes the first two Omen films so scary is the supernatural conspiracy, the freak deaths that come out of nowhere and cannot be resisted. That "death could come out of nowhere" dynamic is what made Final Destination work for me, though the sequel gave up much of that dynamic for greater body count and more elaborate deaths. The Omen series worked best the more ordinary the dangers were and, unfortunately, the sequel to Final Destination went in the opposite direction.
Only a few scary movies have truly creeped me out since then. The two recent standouts for me were 28 Days Later and The Ring. I’m normally not a fan of zombie films but 28 Days Later played on some new fears. Zombie films are often about isolation and civil entropy but the quick acting virus at the heart of the film played upon fears of contagion, one of the great underlying fears of the city dweller.
Meanwhile, I thought The Ring maintained a fear of dread, one largely borne out of a fear of the unexpected. The technological twists to this ghost story made its villain feel more unknowable and helped give the movie an elongated feeling of dread. I particularly liked how the movie make it look like it had wrapped up its conclusion in a neat bow, only for that to turn out to be a false sense of security built upon incorrect presumptions.
It’s too bad that the Ring franchise has so far failed to launch a successful follow-up tale, because Koji Suzuki’s sequel novel, Spiral, was one of the few horror follow-ups to work so well. In Spiral, Suzuki once again turns around what seemed settled at the end of Ring. The "everything you know is wrong" twist is usually a huge cliche, but Suzuki does very convincing work with it, probably because his protagonists are drawing conclusions without being able to know the "rules" their menace plays against them. In Spiral, Suzuki also manages to explain the Ring curse in a strangely convincing manner. Spiral is the rare case where the monster gets scarier the more you see of it.
I could go on about more of the high points of the horror genre to me, but I’ve already reached past the border of rambling. I like horror when it plays on complex emotions, when the characterization comes before the gore. Unfortunately, smart usage of the genre’s potential is fairly uncommon, much like with scifi.










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