In Defense of Horror

“Of all the things thrown at us by the entertainment industry, I think that the horror genre is the only one that has nothing redemptive to offer.”
 – some douche guy

When I heard the above statement muttered in my presence, I took a disciplined deep breath and let it go; promising myself I would do the passive aggressive thing later and post my retort via the mighty interwebs.  Though I found his statement insulting, it inspired me to undertake this task of composing a humble defense of the misunderstood genre known as horror.

To start, I would like to point out that horror as a general category and style is vast, for it includes an incredibly wide variety of films.  It is likely that the ignoramus individual above was thinking of only a very narrow selection of these works, probably in reaction to the influx of movies known commonly as “torture porn” like Hostel or Wolf Creek rather than that of a psychological thriller such as The Silence of the Lambs.  (Tip: writing off an entire genre without clarification will always make you sound stupid, especially since the concept of a genre is ever expanding and evolving and a worthy discussion topic of its own.) 

For the record, I am not asserting that horror movies are for everyone.  I understand that some folks find them traumatic and uncomfortable, especially for movie watchers who are high empathizers.  (I experience a similar adverse reaction to most “girly” movies and tend to avoid them accordingly.)  On the other hand, I will point out that horror has produced some true masterpieces that are often unfairly overlooked (The Thing, 28 Days Later, and The Shining) both critically for their content as well as the performances of the actors in them.  Multitudes of folks have never seen these great works, simply because they are in the horror section of their local Blockbuster.

Yet the question remains: what do people get out of horror?  Is there indeed something “redemptive” in it?  Indeed, true horror fans tend to watch anything and everything they can get their eyeballs on, despite foreknowledge of the content being utter rubbish. (I do not include myself in this category, though like many I have a weakness for all things zombie.)  Obviously, there are enough general horror lovers in the world that Hollywood continues to churn out even the most depraved teen slasher projects regardless of depth, plot, talent or caliber since they consistently rake in piles of money.


So why do we love them? Why are they important? Depending on the content and atmosphere of the particular film, the reasons can be many, but here are some:

1. Losing control. Our lives can be (happily) bland, routine, and uneventful, but horror movies offer an alternative reality that plays upon our worst fears in a safe environment where we are not required to take any action against it.  In many cases, the hero lives to tell the tale, and on some level we hope we’d react with similar heroism if we found ourselves facing the same terrible scenario.
2. Fear. Seriously folks, who doesn’t like getting a little scared?  I don’t believe I’m alone when I say I loved those haunted house walkthroughs that were put together during Halloween as a kid.  There’s just something about that “fight or flight” reaction that sends the adrenaline rush pumping through your heart and makes limbs tremble.  It possesses you when that masked man wielding a chainsaw in a dark room decides you’re his next victim.  Even if you know it’s just some poor schmuck who thought he’d make a career out of playing for the XFL, you scream anyway.  Why? Well, because it’s just plain fun.
3. Shock Value.  Just when you thought you'd seen it all, WHAM! Someone pushes the envelope a little further, a little sicker, a little crazier, and the ride starts all over again.  Humans appreciate and enjoy creativity, even when it concerns an ugly subject.  We get a charge of energy in the face of the unpleasant, and ride the wave as these things stimulate and access pieces of ourselves that often go untouched.  At times it is as if writers and directors are playing a twisted game of 'Double Dog Dare' by challenging one another to push the envelope just a little more than before.   
4. Hidden Messages. Horror movies have the potential to pack a political or social punch that would otherwise come off as trite or heavy handed.  You have a particularly captivated audience. George A. Romero has demonstrated this with his work, critiquing racism and consumerism through moaning zombies.  Guillermo Del Toro, director of Pan's Labyrinth points out: "Horror has such possibilities. Only here can you create the sublime act of art out of such a vile subject matter.  I have always found poetic images in the most horrific tales."
5. Rite of Passage.  Are you bold enough to sit through Evil Dead II with your eyes open the entire time?    I remember being filled with such pride for being able to view Willow all by myself as a child and not once cover my eyes to peek through my fingers.  In many ways being able to face and deal with the realities and nightmares, real or unreal, is a large part of growing up.  To again quote Del Toro, "There is always this great tension between the innocence of children and the brutality of the real world.  We are always trying to pretend that children live in a perfect world, but in reality many are hurt brutally every day. We must make peace with the dark side."
6. Memorable Moments.  An inept drama or comedy can be painful to endure. An inept horror can pack one moment, one scene, which can prove unforgettable.
7. Community.  Horror is communal. I’d never encourage people talking in a theater, but there is nothing that compares to an involved audience.  Suddenly, a standard horror viewing transforms into an event that is shared, experienced and enhanced by those around you.  A classic example is when I drug Chris to opening night of Snakes On A Plane! and people would hiss excitedly through the quiet moments of the film.

I will never forget the images that terrified me as a child ... images that followed me to the mailbox at the end of our dark driveway, lurked under my bed and even stalked me at the community pool. (And don't pretend Jaws didn't have the same result on you, too!)

Everyone has their own individual nightmares; my best friend hates ghosts and demons, some people don’t like aliens or guys with knives.  As for me, furry creatures with fangs make my skin crawl - I know before seeing any werewolf movie or Kujo that I may want a pillow or a strong hand to hold.

Either way, I can’t quite explain the kind of joy I get out of experiencing such raw emotion through a film - it's not just about "being entertained" - it's being presented with a compelling conflict and having my wits chased and teased by unseemly creatures and mind bending scenarios of depravity and darkness.  Part of it is the thrill of exploring territory I would otherwise never discover on my own, while other times it is like a test to see just how far I can allow myself to go before I must retreat back to my world of comfort, safety and sanity.

I have seen a great deal of evidence that the ability to be "unshockable" is incredibly valuable.  I have met folks with hard, dark pasts; they have seen and lived through things that I struggle to imagine, but I am rarely shocked.  Being able to let them tell their stories, the nightmares which are their reality, and not flinch or shy away brings many comfort.  I may not have been in the trenches with them at any time in my own history, but I have put myself in some dark places through films and books, and can grapple in some meager way with the pain in their lives and attempt (even feebly) to be a part of their healing process.


Many horror films also dare to explore the beauty that can be found in the most unusual places.  Be it a satiric comedy like Fido or a classic like Frankenstein, there is a powerful lesson in looking into the eyes of a "monster" and finding a creature that is lonely and simply wants to be loved.  This ability to look beyond the initial knee-jerk reaction of disgust is tragically rare in people today.



Finally, I hesitate to bust out the "Jesus card" here, but I want to seal the deal.  Christ himself descended into hell (whatever that looked like in reality, none can say) and he faced the deepest nightmare of all: he conquered death itself.  He was mercilessly tortured, he was unjustly hated, he was hunted down and betrayed.


If that's not a horror story with some serious redemptive value, I don't know what is.