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Hicks versus urbanites, and the sociology of horror movies
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| MrJiveBoJingles |
A number of horror movies center around the wealthy urbanite's weakness in dealing with rural or otherwise "primitive" areas, his fear of the rough, poor, ignorant people that live there, and sometimes his fateful hubris in dealing with them. Texas Chainsaw Massacre and its spin-offs are the most obvious examples, but you can probably think of others if you've seen some horror movies.
Any thoughts on this? Are horror movies a way for modern technified people to voice and explore their fears of the primitive and their possible impotence in the face of it? Are they one more way for affluent urbanized writers to express their prejudices against the rural?
;) |
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| Meat187 |
| quote: | Originally posted by MrJiveBoJingles
Any thoughts on this? Are horror movies a way for modern technified people to voice and explore their fears of the primitive and their possible impotence in the face of it? Are they one more way for affluent urbanized writers to express their prejudices against the rural? |
No. |
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| tubularbills |
| the beverly hillbillies is an example of vice versa :D |
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| MrJiveBoJingles |
| quote: | Originally posted by tubularbills
the beverly hillbillies is an example of vice versa :D |
Interesting point. A staple of comedy, the inverse of horror, is the poor rural person who has a tough time adjusting to wealthy urban life.
You don't see the opposite as often, although there are some examples like Paris Hilton in The Simple Life. |
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| Halcyon+On+On |
In Stephen King's treatise on 20th century horror, Danse Macabre, he details one concept he deems archetypical of modern horror: the mutant.
"The mutant" not being something restricted only to horror films, of course, but of man's consideration to other creatures as well as himself. "The mutant" is not always literal in that there has to be some sort of toxic avenger-esque disfigurement in order for people to be afraid, but of idealogical differences arising between people and the subsequent partitioning of individuals banding together to face an impending threat of change.
As far as your example is concerned, I would say that backwoods psychopaths represent a mutation of chronology - "normal" people's concept of time of course being an idealogical function. They are often old-fashioned, obsolete so far as "city folk" would be concerned and there is, of course, fear in this; the idea being that antiquated thoughts are an enemy to progressive integrity. I think you could extrapolate this concept to explain a number of people's fears: fear of the elderly, fear of foreigners, insecurity in religion, language, dialect, accent, racism. People are afraid of others who are not like them and do not attempt to be just like them. Of course not all people "fear the mutant" but it's a prevalent albeit latent component of the human experience. McCarthy-ism is a fine example of how people's fear of change and of internal differences can lead to practically pulp hysteria.
//
The Stepford Wives is horror so far as people's weariness of mutation is concerned. The enemy of order, the mutant, of course being relative non-conformity amidst atomic paradise.
Rosemary's Baby is a move about a woman who gives birth to Satan's child. In this story, however, "the mutant" is the only sane person we can identify with: Rosemary, herself. It succeeds as horror because practically every character in the movie is completely aware that this woman was raped by Satan one night and is bearing his seed - the terrifying part being that everyone is completely ok with it except for Rosemary.
Difference is an easily exploitable dynamic for writers. |
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| MrJiveBoJingles |
| Interesting, and Leatherface in TCM is a literal "mutant," a product of inbreeding. |
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| diggerz |
| Texas Chainsaw Massacre is like Frankestein for the poor. :p |
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| Halcyon+On+On |
| quote: | Originally posted by MrJiveBoJingles
Interesting, and Leatherface in TCM is a literal "mutant," a product of inbreeding. |
Yeah, true enough, but I would say that the "true" mutation is the family altogether as they, of course, represent certain ideas counter to established conduct: mass murder, incest, etc.
No doubt Leatherface was the horror icon of the series, but I think it has a bit more to do with the fact that he was behind a mask than anything. The face we imagine hides under a mask is very often far worse than it actually is. And that's the horror: that "the mutant" is a thing of our mind, but something we use to fill in the obfuscations of our perception. The "scare" is a far inferior thing to everything that leads up to the scare.
Imagine somebody is walking up a creaky staircase in an abandoned house. Dust in the air from years of decrepitude, a storm outside, raging with warning at what you just know is about to unfold. Our somebody approaches the door at the top of the stairs. You know. That one door they were *warned* about earlier on? We see the door. It is mundane yet frightening. Not because it is a door, but because we *know* something is behind that door and worse yet: we don't have the slightest idea as to *what* is behind the door. Just that there *has* to be something...
That's what's behind the mask. |
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| Akridrot |
| quote: | Originally posted by Halcyon+On+On
Yeah, true enough, but I would say that the "true" mutation is the family altogether as they, of course, represent certain ideas counter to established conduct: mass murder, incest, etc.
No doubt Leatherface was the horror icon of the series, but I think it has a bit more to do with the fact that he was behind a mask than anything. The face we imagine hides under a mask is very often far worse than it actually is. And that's the horror: that "the mutant" is a thing of our mind, but something we use to fill in the obfuscations of our perception. The "scare" is a far inferior thing to everything that leads up to the scare.
Imagine somebody is walking up a creaky staircase in an abandoned house. Dust in the air from years of decrepitude, a storm outside, raging with warning at what you just know is about to unfold. Our somebody approaches the door at the top of the stairs. You know. That one door they were *warned* about earlier on? We see the door. It is mundane yet frightening. Not because it is a door, but because we *know* something is behind that door and worse yet: we don't have the slightest idea as to *what* is behind the door. Just that there *has* to be something...
That's what's behind the mask. |
You know. Think about hype and expectations. That ties in with suspense, fear, and shock.
We all know that when you hype a product or event too much, no matter how good that product is, the product can never live up to the hype. Hype itself can be extremely entertaining all on its own and people enjoy this, I've seen. Some times, the hype can be more entertaining then the actual entertainment that's being hyped (in the case of a critical, absolute failure). Think about that.
Going back to suspense, I find that extremely entertaining/effective horror movies are the ones that keep you constantly hyped up about what's going to happen.
People for some reason enjoy the yearning, the fantasy, the chase, the thrill, the hunt... just as much as, if not more than, the consummation, the reality, the capture, the climax, the kill. It makes sense.
If you understand this deeply, I bet you could make an extremely successful horror movie that barely shows any actual gore or death. Like the psycho shower scene. Our fantasies are often far more effective at entertaining us than reality. Which is why nightmares can make people sweat and and wake up screaming. Less is more.
Which do you think is more successful: a movie of unimaginable, unbearable dread and horror that makes people physically tense but keeps it mysterious, or a movie where you see every single detail and just makes you cringe? If you can keep that sense of dread without needing to show detail, guess what you've done? You've made a movie that can be enjoyed... even if people are too scared to actually look at the screen for fear of what will happen. Think about that. In contrast, your Hostel type movie is a boring, disgusting yawnfest that nobody is really scared by or enjoys, except for sick s, but it has no replay value whatsoever and it will never be a classic.
Yes, this was a derail about what effective horror truly is and how to make a good movie. I think it fits in this discussion. |
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| Halcyon+On+On |
What succeeds to scare the absolute piss out of people and what succeeds to be a horror movie are not necessarily the same thing. Subjectivities and desensitization notwithstanding, people generally like to be scared when their rational selves and reflexive functions tell them they are, in fact, safe. It's the same thrill of rollercoasters - people are attracted to the excitement of imminent betrayal of motion as well as intention of thought, so long as they truly believe that in the end, they will be Ok.
Where violence and gore play a role in horror is not always in the "delivery" phase however. True, movies like Saw and Hostel are kind of pushing the softcore-enough-for-the-mainstream as far as near torture-porn is concerned, but the true flaw in these films as psychologically successful horror films [as opposed to commercial success] lies in the fact that there is little to no character development and thus, little to no empathy from the audience. When we are beckoned into feeling something for the characters, even if for a single moment, and then bear witness to their mutilation, an emotional response is elicited. Humans being primarily visual creatures are conditioned by biology and, subsequently, society to react when an appeal to mortality is established. We are often horrified by acts or the results of violence because the occulus of the mind as an emotional faculty reminds us that we, ourselves, will die one day. Is the same pain we are witnessing awaiting us upon our decimation as well? We don't know. That's what is scary about it. But to make an emotional appeal to our empathy for others we care about by showing them as the subjects of some grave physical violation - that's almost an entirely different level. With this in mind, if you had somebody watch a film with woman being brutalized, their response may be fear, terror, disgust. You've horrified them. If you have that same person watch a video recording of a loved one being beaten to death, you will still elicit fear, terror, disgust and horror, but all of an entirely different variety. People don't like it to be real. But were there no reality, there would be no basis for fear.
A movie that comes to mind is The Strangers. If I remember correctly, there was little to no violence in the film save for the ending. It was all hype, all some sort of recycled suspense. People may totally disagree with me, but I didn't find it effective or scary at all. Not because I fancy myself as some hardened, stolid horror buff, but because I didn't find a single reason to give a about the characters. They were not like me in the least, and their overly-emotional state was far more distressing than the fact they were being chased by needlessly crazy people wearing masks. Am I saying that The Strangers was unsuccessful because it was not violent? Certainly not. I am merely saying that the failure of an empathic connection takes all of the effect out of any scare tactic that can be imagined; that 'love', in a sense, is what leads to fear.
//Wow, talka bout tangent. I barely addressed anything you said at all. :wtf: |
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| Akridrot |
Imagine if this thread evolved into a series of tangentially related posts, barely addressing each other, each one expressing a substantial and insightful opinion on the previous post and on other thoughts. That would make this the most lengthy, productive derail to ever grace the COR. That would be interesting as well, because each post (I'm assuming) would actually contribute to the discussion, be well written and worth reading, but you'd never know what you'd find in the following updates. It's not all the time things like this happen.
I wonder. Will that happen? A derail where the thread actually gains content? In the COR of all places? Will we eventually progress to a point where this entire thread is about something completely different, then come around full circle to horror movies and wealthy urbanites in rural settings?
(Edit: Ahahahahah @ below) |
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| MrJiveBoJingles |
Here is something tangentially related that I wrote earlier:
I trace the current incarnation of the "culture wars" back to the early '80s when the "Moral Majority" started to gain force, but the seed of it may go all the way back to urbanization and the "phony urban elites vs. authentic regular rural folks" or "intelligent urbanites vs. primitive ignorant farmers" dichotomy. But I'll talk about the Silent Majority since that is more immediately relevant and I am actually writing a paper now about a culture war of sorts that began in the 1960s -- the conflict within the middle class between the older genteel liberals who upheld the traditional educational and occupational hierarchies and the younger radicals who wanted to overturn or abandon them. Anyway...
In the early 1970s the popular press "discovered" the working class, or at least invented a new image of the working class: Male and very "masculine," blue-collar, authoritarian, violent, patriarchal, physical rather than mental, bigoted, with a limited intellect, lively religion, and blinkered worldview -- basically "the common man" as a throwback to the past. These caveman-like figures of the popular imagination supposedly had a primitive rage to vent against an increasingly liberalized elite. Some saw the blue collar worker as a close relative of the stereotypical "poor person," similar in his lack of education and simple, child-like view of the world. Others saw the blue collar worker as an emblem of the patriotism, masculinity, and traditional values that the liberal professional middle class had abandoned -- a living critique of a pretentious, self-indulgent and isolated elite that had lost its way. This living critique was Nixon's "Silent Majority."
Since the late 1950s the middle class had feared becoming "soft" because of its easy affluence. More specifically, they feared that their children would not have the fortitude to endure a rigorous education and then ensconce themselves in a stable profession. Today we still see culture critics saying, "Well, that's exactly what happened!", with lots of cries about how education is failing, the '60s generation was just too hedonistic and selfish, and the kids of the hippie generation are doomed because they never developed the virtues of reliability and hard work like the generation that came of age in the '50s. Affluence and "permissive" parenting had supposedly turned those kids into eternal children, spoiled babies rather than farsighted, self-denying adults.
The "permissiveness" idea is key. Permissive parenting was the evil that had allegedly produced these temperamentally-crippled kids and therefore had to be stopped. Eventually "permissiveness" became the centerpiece of an entire cultural critique -- permissive sexuality, permissiveness with regard to drugs, permissive education with low standards and no central canon, a permissive welfare state that encouraged all kinds of pathology or at least did nothing to hamper it. I can remember sitting in a Baptist church in the '90s and hearing the pastor go on about this sort of thing.
A lot of this talk about softness and permissiveness and hedonism and self-denial (or lack thereof) still goes on today, of course, but the role of it in politics seem to have decreased a bit.
:gsmile: |
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