An Outsider Look on Horror

I’m the kid who likes walking down bike paths at night with one or two friends. The one who stays up all night reading creepy urban legends and unsolved mysteries. I’m the friend that tells ghost stories and scoffs at haunted houses for not being scary enough.

And I don’t like horror films.

Why am I writing a blog about my distaste for horror films on a blog dedicated to the very subject? Pete said he wanted an alternate perspective.

Well, he’s going to get one.

I guess you could say it comes down to semantics and emotions. I like being creeped out. I find enjoyment in the bizarre and macabre. Being scared every once in a while is exhilarating. I do not, however, enjoy being horrified.

And why should I? The word itself implies a reaction to the utmost appalling content.

The Oxford English Dictionary gives a truly beautiful definition for this word: “A painful emotion compounded of loathing and fear; a shuddering with terror and repugnance; strong aversion mingled with dread; the feeling excited by something shocking or frightful. Also in weaker sense, intense dislike or repugnance.”

That isn’t exactly what I would call my emotion of choice.

True horror films evoke this emotion using several tactics, but the one that drives me away the most is the use of gore. For many horror fans, gore is enjoyable. It can allow viewers to explore their fascination with death from a distance, a fascination that is inherently human. My repulsion to gore is both emotional and visceral. It disgusts me, but it also disturbs me. I can’t sit back and enjoy the gutting of a character who, through suspension of disbelief, I have come to see as a person with a life, dreams, hopes, fears, and a family who will mourn for them. Heck, I get teary-eyed when I see a dead squirrel in the street. I’m too empathetic for gore for gore’s sake.

Not all horror films, of course, have excessive gore. Sometimes, they rely on suspense and jump scares – the creepy, sudden images of the antagonistic monster or murderer. Jump-scares can be fun, but when I hear that eerie music, or often just the increasingly high-pitched tone, in the background, my eyes are closed, my ears are covered, and I have to ask my viewing buddy to tell me when it’s over. I end up missing about half the scary parts this way.

Incidentally, one of my favorite films is a horror/drama film, probably familiar to anyone reading this article: Let the Right One In, or you may know the American re-make with Chloë Grace Mortez, Let Me In. This film utilizes both gore and jump-scares. Another creepy film I have enjoyed is Pan’s Labyrinth, which also shares both of these elements. So, what gives? Is everything I just wrote a lie?

The real difference for me is story. I’m a writer. More than anything I want a story that engages me, characters that feel real, and a satisfying arc that accomplishes something. One of the beauties of both of those films I have mentioned is that they provide depth to the antagonists, even if we still don’t like them. The gore is used to make a point, such as in Let the Right One In, to provide a satisfying end to the bully situation for the protagonist, or in Pan’s Labyrinth, to highlight the inhumane brutality of the Captain and war. When gore is only there for the sake of itself, viewers aren’t allowed time to appreciate the emotional aspect. We’re expected to be grossed out and scared and to move on, not to feel for the newly deceased. When films gives the right weight to a gory scene, it’s easier for me to process and move on, because I can see how the gore builds on the theme.

The jump-scares in films like these do not build up for ten minutes with suspenseful music, but rather, let them happen and allow the story to move forward. Without the overuse of eerie sound effects, I can actually make it through the whole movie without closing my eyes. The better part is that the directors aren’t wasting any story time having the protagonist walk down a creepy hallway for a solid three minutes.

When horror films rely solely on grotesque scenes of gore, or attempt to create a terrifying monster to jump out at the audience after moments of antagonizing suspense music, what’s lost is a cohesive and engaging story, or characters that are developed enough to care about.

It is possible that I am wrong, that the reason I have never seen an engaging horror film is because I am too scared to watch them in the first place. I envy those who can find pleasure in sitting around a TV and screaming periodically. It does sound fun. But for me, I’ll stick to my tamer, creepier counterparts and my indie dramas and science fictions.

I guess I just don’t have the guts for horror.