I’d like to take this opportunity (and I generally do as I like,) to ask you a very important question: What frightens you? I don’t mean what methods of death are least appealing. I mean, what scares you? I know that in these dark days, when any chicken dinner could be your last, and Karl Rove stalks freely through the shadows, it's difficult to go beyond the obvious, but please give it a shot. Fear defines so very much of what we do, and as a result, a large portion of who we are.
I’ve always been a fan of horror. I know that style snobs turn their nose up at the genre, but since I'm personally frightened by closed minds, that only serves to enhance my experience. Other people, of course, are simply too in tune to their own fears to give a toss about imaginary ones. Some have been rendered so sensitive just by daily life that they cannot bear to subject themselves to make-believe thrillers. I’ve used public transportation; I can relate. I'd like to think that all of my readers join with me in fearing those so sheltered that even a flash of plastic fangs projected on celluloid is disturbing to their sensibilities. So, let's proceed for a moment on the assumption that nothing is so telling of a people as the fears they share.
As everybody knows, cheesy special effects and “boo” movies are never really scary. The ability to explore what we really, truly fear is what makes the horror genre not only interesting, but generally the most compelling subcategory of fiction. Dracula. Frankenstein. MacBeth. Hell, for that matter, a good chunk of world mythology would fall into the category. Good horror isn’t really about placing a character in physical jeopardy (although story structure requires that still happen,) because physical jeopardy is rarely what we truly fear.
As you could no doubt guess, I’m also a lover of Halloween. Like all things I do that would make a small but very vocal minority of conservative Christians cast me to eternal damnation, I like to stretch the ghoulish celebration out. I’ve spent my free time around the house this October watching old horror films, having purchased over 70 of them on DVD just for the occasion. In fact, I’ve spent much of my working time (as I have less free time than I would like,) casually taking in some of the lesser selections as they played in the background.
I’ve been repeatedly taken aback by exactly how much these films do tell about society. For example, in the 1950s, we were scared stiff over the possibility that our women might turn ugly. “She Demons,” a film in which NAZI scientists exist solely to turn beautiful women into strange and hideous creatures, is the most blatant example. Forget the holocaust and world domination; moviegoers were petrified that ugly broads might one day march down sidewalks unsheathed. There are other, less offensive examples, including the cult classic “The Wasp Woman,” which takes a far more sympathetic look at the wilted roses of the world. But these films, fantastically bad as they are, don’t really frighten us now. I doubt that they ever did. Although, "The Wasp Woman's" cosmetics executive- turned- giant honeymaker does manage to elicit our sympathy.
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