Shocktober Reflections

Final rankings:

     The Best: Tie between Kuroneko and The Innocents

     The Great: Audition, Carnival of Souls, The Descent, Kwaidan, Night of the Living                                                Dead, Rosemary's Baby, Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me

     The Good: Cat People, The Exorcist, The House of the Devil, Poltergeist, The Ring 

     The Mixed: The Bride of Frankenstein, Inland Empire, Jigoku, Santa Sangre

     The Okay: Candyman, The Brood, Kill List, The Masque of Read Death, The Nightmare Before                            Christmas, Re-Animator, Sisters, Vampyr

     

     The Bad: The Blair Witch Project, The Blob, Resolution, Scream, Suspiria

Random people, places, and objects I'm now afraid of:

• Men with one syllable names
• Dead leaves rustling quietly along sidewalks
• Misplaced tongues
• Doorbells with impeccably sound-designed rings
• The preventable, total breakdown of society due to an easily dealt with supernatural element
• Autonomous trees
• Cat demons, snow-based she-devils, and seemingly innocent, but secretly unstable dancers
• Ear removal
• Children cursing 
• Tannis root-based drinks
• Video tapes, TV static, and VCR's

General thoughts on marathons, specific films, and horror in general:

Well, I had to extend the marathon into the first week of November to finish, but I finally watched 31 scary movies, which I consider quite a feat for a self-proclaimed horror novice. Astute readers will notice that my final list up there is different from my original. Netflix disc ended being quicker in their deliveries than I expected, so I was able to add some other films based on that. 

A year ago I tasked myself with watching every film on the BFI Top 50, so I had gone through an ordered list of films before, but I didn't have a set schedule and made my way through each film in a leisurely manner. This was my first time doing a film-a-day marathon. I have to say, such a method is a bad way of absorbing movies. As exciting as some of the movies I watched were, I couldn't help but feel resentful about having to watch a movie every day regardless of my mood or what else I had going on. If I were to do it all over again, I would pick a few films to watch on weekends, or view a handful on Halloween night. 

Even the best horror films tend to work within certain limits and hit similar beats. My regular viewing habits involve jumping around a lot between different directors, styles, genres, and decades to avoid burnout in areas I would otherwise enjoy. Therefore, a general annoyance seeped in once I got a third of the way through the list. Most of the films in the "okay" section probably would have been bumped up to "good" if I had seen them under typical conditions. Quickly picking up on specific tropes and formulas definitely hurt the fright factor of these films as well. 

My main takeaway was noticing that, after a certain point, horror switched from a genre that studios regularly dabbled in (employing expert craftsmen and established actors in the process), to low-budget affairs directed by outsiders or B-movie mavens and starring unknowns. If I had to pinpoint one film that caused this schism, it would be Night of the Living Dead. I don't mean to denigrate either side. Working outside of the studio system provides freedom to explore taboo subjects, push boundaries, and experiment with form. When someone who knows what they're doing is pushed by constraints, or when a crazy visionary somehow scrapes together just enough funding, the results can be stupendous, begetting films like The Texas Chain Saw Massacre, Audition, Eraserhead, and Tetsuo: The Iron Man. 

On the other hand, I wish that studio horror would return to a pre-'68 mindset and that multi-talented directors would work within the field. Rosemary's Baby and The Innocents were both made by people more known for drama than straight horror. The outside perspective makes both well-rounded, fully-satisfying, and resonant on a human level. Smart application of studio resources can also result in moody eye-candy, as evidenced by the trio of Japanese films on my list (Jigoku, Kuroneko, and Kwaidan). 

Finally, I can't stress enough how critical good sound design and memorable music is to establishing mood, generating tension, and providing jolts. The Innocents serves as a masterclass on how to weave a singular musical theme in and out of multiple contexts, giving it a different meaning each time it's replayed. The use of a biwa in the third story of Kwaidan gives a hypnotic power and distinct flavor to a tale of warrior-ghosts, haunted ships, and frightened monks, and is a major reason why that section is the best in the film. The Descent and The House of the Devil focus intensely on the small sounds made by footsteps, shallow breathing, and creeky/claustrophobic man-made and natural architecture in a way that makes the loud moments all the more terrifying.