While I agree with my illustrious writing collaborator, Christopher Leppek, that the core ingredient to an excellent piece of horror – either film, the written word or any other format – is atmosphere, I submit that what truly scares people is perhaps even deeper. We’re not talking about your typical boo scare (like the hand that suddenly lurches upward from the depths of the grave) but something more subtle, more gnawing on our subconscious.I have fond memories of seeing The Exorcist when it first opened way back in the 1970’s. The theatre was pre-megaplex and actually had an outside lobby for people to congregate prior to the next start time. Instead of appealing posters that announced future attractions, the lobby for this particular picture was festooned with actual newspaper articles from around the world talking about one allegedly ‘true-life’ subject – demonic possession.Much like traveling freak shows advertised their attractions in garish posters to whet the appetites and curiosities of the general public, this particular lobby had the same effect on me. No longer was I just waiting to see another movie, I was engrossed in reading each and every article until I became truly frightened. Could the movie I was about to see be based on fact? Was there really such a thing as demonic possession? Could I and my friends be possessed? Would my trusted Star of David necklace protect me?
The infamous demon — truth or subliminal trickery? — from “The Exorcist”
Not only did I enjoy the movie immensely and its shocking in-your-face scenes, but what truly scared me was the sub-plot of Father Karras visiting his invalid mother in her dank and lonely apartment. I felt his guilt and sadness all the way down to my tenth row seat, where my wobbly knees embraced a tub of popcorn. Later when the possessed Regan speaks to Karras in his mother’s voice (“Dimmy, why did you do this to me? Dimmy why did you do this to me?”) my skin was literally crawling. Another example of subtle brilliance can be witnessed in The Mothman Prophecies – a gem of a dark classic with convincing acting by Richard Gere. There’s a terrific scene where Gere’s character (John Klein, a prominent newspaper reporter) is alone in his seedy motel room far away from home. Suddenly the phone rings in the middle of the night and he finds himself conversing with some kind of electronically created voice, obviously not human. Klein’s skepticism is quickly dispatched. Indrid Cold: Hello, John Klein.
John Klein: Who is this?
Indrid Cold: My name is Indrid Cold.
John Klein: Unless, of course, you’re Gordon Smallwood…
Indrid Cole: Your father was born in
Monroe Street. You don’t remember how your mother looked.
John Klein: What did I just hide in my shoe?
Indrid Cole: Chapstick
John Klein: Okay, you got my attention.
Richard Gere in “The Mothman Prophecies” on the phone — to what?
Can you imagine speaking to a total stranger (and a non-human one at that) who knows your deepest, darkest secrets? That’s what I call scary.
Dark atmosphere plus perfectly timed subtlety will always be the ingredients of a delightfully hideous brew. What are some of your favorite subtle moments in your most watched and read horror? Demented minds, like ours, want to know.Until next time. . .
Great post. I’m still afraid to watch the exorcist. I remember seeing it when I was in 4th grade at a friends house and not being able to sleep at night for fear of being possessed. The book is even scarier.I’ll have to add the “Mothman Prophecies” to my Netflix.
Comment by Jack — June 30, 2008 @ 8:12 am
On Demons and Doctors
While I may be too scared to dare hock horror with the likes of the ghoulish Leppek-Isler duo, I am compelled to add my two cents (and valueless sense) to this bloodthirsty blog. As a horror novice and a virgin blogger, I find myself settling in an Aristotelian middle ground and concurring with both halves of this demon-duet: Atmosphere and all those secrets we silently store in the subconscious go together like rigor and mortis.
I can’t think of an eerier atmosphere than Rosemary Woodhouse’s New York apartment, furnished with a struggling actor husband (come on, what’s scarier than that?); elderly neighbors who push homemade sweets and unsolicited advice with the oomph of a Bubbe; and, oh yes, the devil lurking somewhere around your kneecaps.
I jest, but not indelicately: The first time I watched Rosemary’s Baby was with a friend in Tucson, Arizona. We developed a habit of meeting at her house after our evening classes, scrounging around for take-out fit for the grad-school budget, and visiting the local video-house (Casa Video, the film-lover’s answer to the intellectual desertification creeping across America). Problem was, Lisa loved horror … and my weak knees matched my weak will. Thus, horror it was.
I can’t begin to rattle off all that we saw, for I watched most through the gaps of my fingers or simply sneaked off to play with the cats in the kitchen. But with Rosemary’s Baby, I couldn’t look away. And after Rosemary (and my psyche) had survived an evening of violation, I hesitantly headed home through the unlit Arizona foothills, where one can’t catch a breath in the thin air and the stars are distant and cold. And where ghouls and fiends and devils lie in wait on dark desert nights.
It didn’t help, of course, that I was taking a course on Ethnomedicine that semester, and I spent my days entranced by witches and sorcerers and the evil eye. Mani asks if there is “really such a thing as demonic possession,” and the answer is, clearly, yes. (Find any ethnography on the bottom shelf of a library, and demons will rise through the dust.) Culture is a powerful thing, and although I as a “modern” (or perhaps “postmodern”) can scoffs at such things, were I a young woman in rural north India (“Taraka’s Ghost” by Stanley A. Freed and Ruth S. Freed) or the southern Sudan (Religion and Healing in Mandari by Jean Buxton), possession might be par for the course.
Possession requires a mix of atmosphere and individual susceptibility, and so I submit that all that’s fit to be feared is intimately connected to culture. What scares us always contains an element of the possible, even if only symbolically.
I never needed those terrifying Tuesdays in Tucson to make me shiver like a meth addict – there’s plenty I fear every day. Even sending one’s thoughts into the vast reaches of the Intertubes isn’t without it risks. (Nothing embodies “chaos” more than the World Wide Web – that postmodern Peyton Place where any and all can espouse opinions at any time of the day.)
As Mani states, “Can you imagine speaking to a total stranger (and a non-human one at that) who knows your deepest, darkest secrets?”
This is why I don’t socialize with my doctor …
Comment by L.E. — July 11, 2008 @ 5:00 pm
hello and good evening horror fans.
well first great site and yes i do hav a fav. horror moment and conccept.
i like (but is not my fav.) John Carpenters
“THE THING” i love it, cuz it plays on your head a bit in that you dont know if your friend is a monster. but you dont want to be alone, so who do you trust, and how do you find out who to trust. and are you prepared to fight the “thing” when you find it
Comment by allen — December 6, 2008 @ 3:15 pm