One thing I truly love about social media is that we continuously argue with each other over the same things, again and again, and will do so until either Twitter collapses or we get hit with the giant asteroid the New York Post keeps promising. You can practically set up a weekly planner: it’s Tuesday, someone’s going to post that there shouldn’t be sex scenes in movies or TV shows. Uh oh, it’s almost 6 p.m., time to suggest that comic book movies are an affront to art and humanity. Wait, don’t go to bed yet, one of your Twitter followers just RT’d a blue check who insists that Martin Scorsese only makes movies about the Mafia.
Horror Twitter is particularly entrenched in neverending discourse: usually about the same subjects:
Remakes & reboots are inherently bad
Horror was better when it “wasn’t about anything” (narrator: it’s always been about something)
The gays and the broads are ruining horror
“Elevated” horror is dumb and boring
It’s a special sort of fickleness to both demand that new horror be created, and yet view any sort of modern touch (such as casting a trans actor to play the Hell Priest, a/k/a “Pinhead” in a new version of Hellraiser) with suspicion and hostility, and a belief that the original, true horror fans (i.e. white guys) are being abandoned in favor of “wokeness.”
Insisting that horror movies representing something, or reflecting reality, is a recent development is a particular favorite of mine (and when I say “favorite,” I mean it makes me want to punch something until I can’t feel my hand anymore). It results in some real “boom, got ‘em” gems like this:
Yeah, man, imagine if an indie horror director in 2022 made a movie in which a man is face-raped and forced to carry a pregnancy to term? Thank god a male-presenting robot doesn’t assault a woman by forcing a rolled up pornographic magazine into her mouth, that would be dumb, and would definitely mean that Alien was about more than the “cosmic insignificance of the human animal.”
Refusing to acknowledge the body horror and loss of agency in Alien (which was also inspired by Dan O’Bannon’s struggle with Crohn’s Disease) takes a special sort of stubbornness, and dedication to sticking to the narrative that horror movies about trauma, or which have sociopolitical undertones, are a new and very much unwelcome development in the genre. To truly, honestly believe that, you also have to believe that it’s merely a coincidence that a Black man is “mistaken” for a zombie and shot to death at the end of Night of the Living Dead, released all the way back in 1968. It means you’ve chosen to ignore that The Brood (1979) was inspired by David Cronenberg’s bitter divorce from his first wife (source: David Cronenberg himself). You would have to say with a straight face that Candyman (1992) is just about a man covered in bees who kills a bunch of people, and not about gentrification, racism and the co-opting of Black pain.
But sure, keep insisting that horror is only supposed to be about monsters (who don’t represent anything, they’re just monsters), and busty college students (who have no backstory or character development, because who needs that shit) getting stabbed to death with a large, phallic butcher knife. Wait, no, if you acknowledge that knives are thrusted into soft, yielding flesh, you might actually be open to the idea of symbolism, and that makes horror movies less enjoyable, somehow.
I don’t know, man. I don’t like to gatekeep, but some gates really need keeping.
Anyway, ze links:
The week in Gena:
On Kill by Kill, we continue our month long tribute to Creepshow with an episode on “The Lonesome Death of Jordy Verrill,” featuring Eric Szyszka of We Hate Movies. Jordy might be the weakest story in the anthology but it’s still weirdly charming, even when Stephen King runs around screaming because he has grass growing on his balls.
Speaking of horror movies, I reviewed Halloween Ends, which tries to be about a whole lot of things, but all of it done poorly.
Things I watched this past week, in order of how much I enjoyed them: original Bride of Frankenstein, original Frankenstein, new Hellraiser (see next week’s newsletter), White of the Eye (see this past Tuesday’s newsletter), and then after a sharp drop-off Halloween Ends.
The week in links:
I’m calling it now: M3GAN? Best Picture of 2023.
Dad has some things to say about box office culture, and as usual he’s absolutely right.
Here’s a wonderful profile of Baz Luhrmann and his wife, production designer Catherine Martin, who’s worked on all his films. Have you seen Elvis yet? If not, you should watch Elvis right now (unless you’re about to go to bed, because it’s pretty long).
The most important list you’ll read this week: 19 body horror movies made by or about women. My dude Mr. “Alien was about how we’re all space dust or some shit” up there should watch Titane and get back to me.
Do me a favor? Don’t be the kind of entitled a-hole who goes to Starbucks and orders a special off-menu drink that has 12 peppermint shots, pumpkin cold foam and cookie topping, like the people this article is about. Just order whatever is on the little sign and get the fuck out, otherwise a trapdoor will open under your feet and send you straight to Hell.
On that note, have a glorious weekend, and don’t do anything that will send you straight to Hell down a slide, like a Tom and Jerry cartoon.
Yr. pal,
GENA