Horror 101: Startling vs. Scary
Gather around neophyte fright fans, it’s time for a long overdue lesson in what is truly scary. Somewhere along the way, you’ve been misguided, believing that being startled equals a feeling of dread or a shorthand for suspense. For the record, both emotional responses are completely and utterly different. Shock is a sudden sensation, one that comes from the unexpected or the unanticipated. A car pulls out in front of you as you precede through an intersection; the cat jumps on your computer while you are cluelessly chatting with your Facebook pals; a door slams or a vehicle backfires while you weren’t paying attention - each one of these situations produces a considered response, one that can have a deleterious effect on your psyche. You’re jumpy. You’re afraid. But unlike being truly scared, such a feeling is merely temporary, a momentary lapse before rediscovering your fairly consistent everyday comfort zone.
No, fear is literally spine tingling and chilling. It seems under your skin and raises the fuzz on the nape of your neck. It brings about sleepless nights, eyes open as the darkness descends on your already anxious thoughts. Being scared is being constantly reminded of the reason for your fright, of being unsettled for no obvious reason except for the subject of said terror. A loud bang might bring about a couple of minutes (or hours) of unease, but the sensation soon goes away. Terror should be something that sticks to you like a leech, sucking away your resolve until you can no longer stand the stress. Being startled therefore is not the same thing, and as a result, any movie that functions as a series of jolts is nothing more than the cinematic version of a defibrillator. It may be startling, but it’s not also scary.
Last weekend, Paranormal Activity was the Number One film in the nation, raking in almost $22 million at the box office. Declared by some limited perspective websites as “the scariest movie of all time”, this $15K clunker is really nothing more than 90 minutes of meandering followed by five minutes of predictable “BOO!”. No attempt is made to deliver suspense, to take the viewer through a collection of connected scenes leading to an unholy feeling of trepidation. No, like those YouTube video where people tell you to look closely at the screen before a photoshopped version of Regan MacNeil’s devil face pops up and causes you to jump, director Oren Peli realizes he can’t get you with style or storytelling. So he sets up a video camera, cranks up the stillness, and then systematically showers the viewer with nothing more than anticipatory, formulaic surprise. Again, it’s startling, but it’s not scary.
A couple of years ago, another unlikely hit, The Strangers, followed a similar format. Though we did have the notion of blood and gore as a byproduct of the shocks, the entire movie was made up of two people responding to door knocks, window crashes, footfalls, and the sudden appearance of masked mugs. Again, there was no attempt to get the audience to identify with the plight of the people involved (not the failed relationship aspect - the being surrounded by psychos part) and after the initial jolt, director Bryan Bertino went right back to boring us to death. Indeed, the false scare has been a scary movie mandate since the beginning of the artform. Before complicated elements and psychological chills became part of the fright flick landscape, the carnival dark ride ideal was the main creative ploy used by artists and hacks alike.
Unfortunately, it’s not as easy to define scary. Being startled is almost universal. You have to be incredibly laid back or uber-cynical not to flinch when something comes unexpected flying at you (as in Paranormal Activity‘s finale). But fear is a lot more ambiguous. It’s like phobias - some people can’t stand heights, while others would hang out at the top of a tall skyscraper if they could. Others hate bugs or certain types of animals while others embrace these subjective fear factors. Going back to something said previously, being scared is about being disturbed, about worry that won’t go away, about dreading the next image or idea coming up on the screen (or into your brain). True, some can mistake the adrenaline rush of a probable shock as something akin to the scary experience, but true terror comes not only from what is seen - it’s the unknown element or concept that is waiting around the narrative corner, claws sharp and fangs caked with grue.
As mentioned before, The Exorcist is an example of one of the scariest movies of all time. It’s definitely shocking and highly upsetting, but there is more to it than crucifix masturbation and a Satan influenced potty-mouthed adolescent. William Friedkin used the unusual setting to discuss the growing generation gap between ‘70s youth and supposedly tuned-in parents, exploring divorce, separation, and selective parenting along the way. Author William Peter Blatty tapped directly into the lingering superstitions surrounding religion and its rituals while referencing a supposedly real life case of possession. The combination created a kind of perfect supernatural storm, the constant bombardment of evil and everyday explanations setting the stage for a finale so horrific it remains a genre classic.
Similarly, Dario Argento brought a Mediterranean view of macabre to his brilliant horror crime thriller Deep Red (Profondo Rosso). Using a standard whodunit set up (a famous psychic is killed, and a jazz musician tries to find out who…and why), the famed filmmaker takes us through a wicked whirlwind of childhood trauma, familial secrets, and one of the creepiest abandoned manors ever. All the while, blood sprays, gloved killers conspire, and a horrific atmosphere is manufacture out of pure visual wonder. Like The Exorcist, Argento’s movies (including Suspiria and Inferno) function as psychological stumbling blocks. They do not let you rest. You cannot easily forget them. And when the time comes to turn off the lights, to try and settle in for a little sleep, the visions created in both efforts lie right along with you, replaying in your tired, troubled mind over and over again.
Unless a tree limb falls on your roof overnight, memories of Paranormal Activity are not going to disturb your slumber. It’s like a rollercoaster or other amusement park thrill ride - a few moments of empty edge of the seat thrills followed by a slow fade into memory. Indeed, the embracing of this idea as scary seems indicative of the contemporary tread toward better-than-instant gratification. We want our pulse quickened and we want it now! No time for character development or careful plotting. Shock us, startle us, and then let us get back to our cellphones. If that’s all you want in a horror film, there are perfectly perfunctory examples of same currently showing. Once you’ve been jolted and jostled, why not give some real fear a try. Then you will hopefully know what truly is “the scariest of all time.”
Comments
well said. i’ve had many discussions with people where i’ve tried to explain why movies like the american remakes of the ring and the grudge aren’t actually scary because they’re full of cheap tricks, while a movie like jaws is legitimately scary because it changes your behavior (countless people hear the jaws theme in their head when they go swimming and therefore don’t go in the ocean).
Comment by Lin from Los Angeles — October 27, 2009 @ 5:45 pm
Bill, I’m sorry that you’ve still got a bug up your butt regarding the success of Paranormal Activity. But did it really warrant an “I know what the hell I’m talking about a lot more than you because I watch a lot of horror movies” column?
I enjoyed Paranormal Activity and found it sufficiently creepy, but no, it didn’t stick with me when I went to sleep that night. But plenty of people (some of them big horror fans, some not) that I have talked to have found the movie truly frightening and they have indeed had trouble getting to sleep because it’s sticking with them. It’s fine that you didn’t enjoy the film or find it scary, but a lot of people did. And trying to dictate to the masses that what they’ve just watched isn’t actually frightening seems like a lot of sour grapes to me.
Comment by Chris Conaton from Houston, TX — October 27, 2009 @ 7:08 pm
The truth is that most people don’t truly understand what it means to be “scared”. The Exorcist is truly at the top of the heap when it comes to deep down to the bone scary.
I am lucky to be old enough to have seen the original movies in that era (Exorcist, The Omen, Rosemary’s Baby) and can actually compare them against current day movies (The Grudge, The Ring, Blair Witch, etc.) and there’s no comparison.
Comment by J Rivas from US — October 27, 2009 @ 8:11 pm
OK - horror neophyte: Bill, what movies are the first two images in the article taken from?
Comment by Christian John Wikane — October 28, 2009 @ 6:48 am
No mention of The Shining? To me, that is the scariest movie of all time.
Comment by Tom — October 28, 2009 @ 11:36 am
I often hear people say the Exorcist is the SCARIEST MOVIE OF ALL TIME ZOMG! and I just don’t buy it. I found the movie profoundly boring, and I think it leans too heavily on ideas about superstition and religion that surround the film rather than having a truly frightening atmosphere. Not to mention a sound design that saps the entire film of any ambient atmosphere so that ONLY the most jarring, “shocking” (and by this article’s estimation, cheap, and in my estimation, merely annoying) noises come through. Anyway, I don’t share those ideas or superstitions that make up the super-important 70’s context to the film, and I think that’s why I wasn’t scared by that movie at all. That and the fact that, yes, the demon is in that bedroom, and it knocks stuff around and makes scary noises, but for the most part, that room is exactly where you’ll find it. It’s gonna yell, it’s gonna knock the old guy’s pills away, but it doesn’t do anything else that I found scary or even interesting. Those facts and the first, say, 20 minutes of the film which focus on the guy’s sad-sack bachelor life and his ancient mom.
On the other hand, I went to see The Strangers in a theater filled with rowdy teens and guys who I feared would get loud trying to impress their girlfriends. 5 minutes into the film, the entire theater was silent. The quiet of the film was richer, the dread more complete in a way that was impressive to me because it did *not* need any context. There were startling moments, as there will be in any horror movie. In this case, those moments were attended by collective gasps from the audience. The room bristled with tension, and the claustrophobic nature of the setting only added to the main driving engine of the film’s ability to frighten: anticipation.
Of course things went quiet between shocks. It’s common in horror films to use inactivity where you expect activity to generate tension. Not the times when the cat jumps out at you, but the slow, unsteady walk that make you so tense you *want* the effing cat to jump out. I think it’s odd that, for someone who doesn’t think shocks are scary, you seemed to find those periods without them boring. I found those stretches remarkable for their ability to let the unseen and unheard generate scares, to give the viewer ambient noise they can try to listen through to hear where the noises are not coming from.
I’m content to allow that there may be a generational difference here, that I didn’t buy the whole Jebus vibe of the Exorcist, so maybe that’s why it didn’t resonate with me. Lucky for everyone else, I’m not going to let my argument devolve into “Gee golly, these whippersnappers just don’t gets with the scares n’more. get off m’lawn!” As if what is frightening is somehow objective. As if that misconception doesn’t lead to the cirular arguments (“being scared is about being disturbed”) this column leaving a hole in the middle where you fail to substitute context for technique.
Context can make the Exorcist a better film, but not a scarier one. Jolts are cheap, but the Exorcist uses them, too. What you call tense, I call boring, and vice versa.
Comment by Nick from Hartford — October 28, 2009 @ 1:33 pm