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Colin Odell

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Herausgeber: Kamera Books
Kategorie: Geisteswissenschaft
Sprache: Englisch

Beschreibung

A flash of lightning. A rumble of thunder. The sinister silhouette of an indistinct figure. A bestial howl echoes across the misty moors. A skeletal hand reaches, slowly, deliberately around your door. Meanwhile there are unholy stirrings in the graveyard and disappearances from the local morgue. A scream pierces the chill air as a madman cackles, the blood dripping from his old rusty axe... Horror is one of cinema's most disreputable genres. Frequently dismissed or reviled by critics, the horror film nevertheless provides a way of confronting our fears in a safe environment. Often subject to more cuts at the hands of the censor than a serial killer's razor, the horror film is also a benchmark, a sign of what's considered acceptable for the public to view and what the state will allow its citizens to see. But for the most part horror films are about entertainment, consistently profitable, eminently enjoyable. So what makes this genre so detested and why do people pay to be scared? The Kamera Book of Horror Films will take you on a journey into the realm of fear. From horror cinema's beginnings in the late 19th century to the latest splatter films, from the chills of the ghost film to the terror of the living dead there's more than enough to keep you awake at night. There's a whole world of terror to explore - Spanish werewolves, Chinese vampires, Italian zombies, demons from Britain, killers in America, evil spirits in Japan. This book offers a guide to key films, directors and movements. Amongst the many discussed are the popular Dracula, Frankenstein, Scream, Halloween, The Sixth Sense, Ringu and Evil Dead, and the more unusual The Living Dead Girl, Rouge, Les Yeux sans Visage, Nang Nak and Black Cat. So join us on a gruesome and terrifying journey into the world of horror but don't dawdle, the last in line is always the first to get picked off...

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Leseprobe

Colin Odell & Michelle Le Blanc

HORROR FILMS

For Alice, our furry feline friend, who watched thousands of films over the thirteen years she lived with us. She snoozed through all the films you’re about to read about, but sadly passed away five days before the deadline for this book. We miss her very much.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Our thanks to the usual suspects for welcome distractions and many other things – Paul, Lizbeth and And, and Gavin and Hanako. A big hello to Graham and Kirsty, and a special mention for Graham’s car keys and the endoscope. Thanks to Claire and Mark for their international bookspotting activities. For all their support our thanks and love to Tony, Christine and Marc Le Blanc and Truus Odell. Also thanks to Hannah Patterson, Ion Mills, Antonio Pasolini and Xavier Mendik.

Title Page

Dedication

Acknowledgements

1. INTRODUCTION

2. HORROR IN EUROPE

British Horror Cinema

Italian Horror Cinema

French Horror Cinema

German Horror Cinema

Spanish Horror Cinema

3. HORROR IN THE AMERICAS

North American and Canadian Horror Cinema

Central and South American Horror Cinema

4. HORROR IN ASIA

Japanese Horror Cinema

Hong Kong Horror Cinema

Korean Horror Cinema

Indian Horror Cinema

5. HORROR IN AUSTRALASIA

References

Bibliography

Plates

INTRODUCTION

Catch catch the horror taxi

I fell in love with a video nasty

Catch catch the horror train

Freeze frame gonna drive you insane

The axe is sharp and the blade is keen

Creature features, spirits on your screen

Shadows fall, in all this gloom

You’re not so safe

In the safety of your room

Nasty – The Damned

The horror film has a fearsome reputation, dismissed by critics and pilloried by the media. Yet it is hugely popular, diverse in content and as old as cinema itself. In this book we will provide an overview of this most detested of genres, covering its history and examining the key figures who have shaped the horror film into the multi-faceted beast it has become. There is a whole world of scary cinema out there, but no way that a book of this size can be exhaustive, especially given the mountains of often-variable product in even the most modest DVD rental store. So we take a selective look at films and movements that will offer a feel and understanding of the genre and explain why – rather than simply stoke the fires of media outrage – it can serve a higher purpose.

Despite scare stories that horror is a new scourge demonising the young, it has, in fact, a rich literary and oral heritage that stretches far into the past. It is one of the most enduring forms of storytelling precisely because it deals in primal fears – and learning to fear is essential to any animal that has successors in the food chain. The oldest surviving extant poem in the English language, Beowulf (c. Eighth century), is at heart a gruesome horror tale. Horror had progressed into an artform that stepped away from the simple morality of traditional tales. The addition of the supernatural or extra-natural to the mix provided a narrative hook as well as a spiritual element that linked religion and morality. Many horror stories explore the nature of faith or have overt religious connotations – their purpose is to justify prescribed behaviours as much as show the effects of transgressions from them.

Horror also has a secondary purpose: to confront primordial fears in a safe environment, preparing an individual for a cruel world and providing a cautionary source of morality in an entertaining manner. Horror tales, be they oral or cinematic, are told in the dark or at night where the logical light of day cannot disperse their phantasmagorical effect or mock their inherently dubious premises. It is no accident that horror films are inherently scarier in a darkened cinema than in an ordinary living room. The horror film offers the audience an experience of fear and disgust within a non-threatening context; whatever fear is irrationally felt, they rationally acknowledge that the film itself cannot physically cause them harm, short of being decapitated by a flying reel of IMAX stock. There is a catharsis within horror – the audience can see victims deal with a situation, jump at the scary moments and recoil at the grotesque, but ultimately leave the cinema unscathed. This also makes the horror film ideal for dating, and a particularly popular genre among teenagers. Horror also offers a form of relief at times of stress, either personal or on a wider societal scale. Like comedy, a genre that it is closely related to, horror portrays a situation that is worse than any you might currently face. And there is comfort in knowing that, however bad your lot may be, for the 90 minutes you are in the cinema you can watch someone else having a far worse time.

Although the roots of the horror story can be seen in literary and oratory traditions, film is, by its nature, a visual medium and further precedents come from the world of art and theatre. Early cave paintings, the imaginatively gruesome atrocities portrayed by Bruegel and Bosch, the fear of the natural world in the Sublime canvases of the late eighteenth century or the distorted realities of Hogarth all have a part to play in the evolution of visualising the grotesque or frightening. More recently, the advent of psychoanalysis pre-empted the rise of the Surrealist movement with its dreamlike, occasionally nightmarish imagery. The sexual alien sadism of HR Giger or the grotesques of Francis Bacon also provide starting points for visual expression in the moving arts. And yet cinema still struggles to be accepted as an artform in its own right and the horror film has the hardest task of all, despite the miasma of sub-genres and styles that make it an incredibly rich part of world cinematic heritage. Horror, for the most part, remains the province of the aficionado rather than the critic, with positive criticism generally justified by rebranding the product – you are unlikely to find works by Bergman, Pasolini or Buñuel in the horror section of your local DVD store despite the fact they have all made horror films. But its continued popularity suggests that people will part with their money time and again for the privilege of being scared witless.

So, what is it that makes a horror film? As with all genres the label is a loose generalisation designed to characterise visual or thematic elements that typify a product in the mind of the consumer. These include the structure, the monster, the thrill and the relationship of the film to the viewer.

‘WE HAVE SUCH SIGHTS TO SHOW YOU’1 THE HORROR FILM’S STRUCTURE

Thomas Schatz, in his seminal work on Hollywood genres, states that ‘genre experience, like all human experience, is organised according to certain fundamental perceptual processes. As we repeatedly undergo the same type of experience we develop expectations which, as they are continually reinforced, tend to harden into “rules”.’2 The purpose of a genre is to provide a clear structure that the audience will recognise, and while Schatz does not demean himself to discuss the horror film in his book, the genre’s main aim is to elicit fear within the viewer.

The basic structure of the horror film is a three-step construction of order, chaos and reconstruction, with an optional bookending device or prologue. The purpose is to show a society or microcosm thereof dealing with catastrophic change, usually inflicted by a monster, the perpetrator that elicits a marked emotional response from the viewer. The monster need not be an actual physical beast, rather it is the catalyst for the chaos inflicted. The structure of the horror film determines how the society goes about reconstructing a semblance of order. The opening act depicts an internally ordered society (not necessarily a good order but with boundaries of accepted normality) unaware of impending disruption. This can be a ‘normal town’ (The Virgin Spring, Halloween, Gremlins), an isolated group (Evil Dead Trap, Alien, The Thing, Deliverance, Friday the 13th) or an individual (Carrie, The Vanishing). This establishes the environment and shows stability. This stability is disrupted by the addition of the monster, the chaotic element that breaks down the demarcation of social order. It is the core of the film and defines it as horror. Finally there is the reconstruction or resolution where society returns to a stable form. Crucially, this stability may not be the same as that which established the film, and it isn’t necessarily good. Success for the monster can create a new order that is internally stable but hardly desirable – it is the alteration and the process of reconstruction that provides the genre’s basic narrative drive. The only addition to this basic structure is either a bookending device (The Fog, The Cabinet of Dr Caligari), a shock ending that occurs apparently after the restoration of order (Carrie) or a prologue (Halloween). The latter is often used as a portent of things to come (like a mini trailer), a justification of the monster or as a way of keeping the audience tense, aware that they are watching a horror film and not a drama. Most films follow this three-section structure although some try to counter it by employing downbeat endings (Night of the Living Dead, The Birds) that offer no solution to the problem, effectively ending in chaos. But this chaos is now established and has become the template for the society portrayed. Dawn ofthe Dead appears to be set entirely in the middle, chaotic segment but internally follows the three-section structure. Similarly some films (notably Saw III and the notorious Guinea Pig series) apparently dispense with establishing an order to disorientate their audience, providing a reactionary environment for atrocity over narrative cohesion; but even these provide a resolution by their conclusions.

‘IT’S ALIVE! IT’S ALIVE!’3 SUB-GENRES AND HORROR THEMES

The horror film is particularly malleable and can accommodate other genre types, often merging with science fiction, thriller or fantasy, making it difficult to categorise. Occasionally films that are clearly horror are placed under different categories so as not to be tarnished by the label. Alien is branded as science fiction and not a haunted house film in space, while Se7en is apparently a thriller rather than a reworking of TheAbominable Dr Phibes. Similarly, there are films that are undeniably horrific but are not usually described as horror in the generic sense of the term – Steven Spielberg’s PG-rated films Jaws and Jurassic Park are horror films, but the more visceral Munich and Saving Private Ryan are not. What sets these apart is the presence of a defined monster. There are many kinds of monsters and sub-genres but they generally fall into one or more of four categories, although each of these is subject to cross-fertilisation and amalgamation.

Natural: Nature represents a primal fear. It is chaotic, unpredictable and often as violent as it is beautiful. Man’s insignificance in the universe is epitomised by futile attempts at controlling its forces. The greatest fear lies with that which we cannot understand and nature is the first manifestation of this. The ecological horror film shows the effects of the planet on humankind, either as punishment for meddling (The Host, Them!), the primitive attacking the modern which upsets the balance of evolution (Jaws, Grizzly) or man as insignificant to the greater purpose of nature’s slow cycle (Volcano, Armageddon). This sub-genre sometimes crosses with the scientific monster – for example, the electrically awoken worms of Squirm or the genetics tampering of Piranha or Jurassic Park. Resolution is often achieved by scientific means (TheSwarm), confrontation which re-establishes the protagonist’s link with his/her primitive self (Jaws, Moby Dick) or by nature simply running its course (Earthquake).

Supernatural: It is far easier to dismiss supernatural horror as fantastical because cold logic requires empirical evidence of its existence, but paradoxically this can also be its power. The supernatural monster is either a fantastical bogeyman that cannot rationally exist and can therefore be dismissed or it can represent religious spirituality that can affect a person’s soul and therefore be more metaphysically resonant. Vampires, werewolves and zombies allow the audience to have their cake and eat it – they can enjoy the scares then dismiss the monsters at their leisure. Many supernatural creatures are based on religious mythologies or folklore. Associated with these are prescribed means of dispatch, although the cinematic form will often expand, develop or defy them. Less easy to dismiss are demonic possession films, as these are concerned with the violation of the body and the soul – there is more at stake in The Exorcist than corporeal violation. Supernatural monsters, because of their unfathomable and enigmatic nature, also allow the filmmaker to let their imagination run riot, creating terrors outside our waking reality. Clive Barker’s Cenobites from Hellraiser or the demons of Jigoku come from twisted, distorted worlds far beyond our comprehension.

Psychological: Perhaps one of the more terrifying monsters, the psychotic killer is usually based entirely in the real world. Sub-genres from the thriller to the slasher have relied on the evil or madness of a vicious perpetrator to elicit their thrills. Sometimes they are given an excuse or a reason for their actions – whether it be abuse at the hands of the father (Peeping Tom), a frightening Oedipal complex (Maniac,Psycho) or being simply driven to madness by noisy neighbours (DrillerKiller). In these cases the audience may not be able to identify with the monster, but can at least understand it. Occasionally there is no obvious cause or explanation for a killer’s crimes (Henry, Portrait of a Serial Killer) or sometimes it’s the chilling motivation of someone wanting simply to know how it feels to kill (The Sailor Who Fell from Grace with the Sea, Spoorloos). Stories can be taken from the news, or just claim to be based on true events to provide extra chills – The Texas Chain SawMassacre was (very) loosely based on the Ed Gein killings, Wolf Creek, apparently, on a number of prominent murder cases. Killers are difficult to dismiss when today’s sensationalist press turns real life crimes into hard-hitting narratives that ultimately exploit the victims; but their effect on the public psyche is hard to ignore. It is only when crossed with the supernatural that they become easier to deal with (Michael Myers in Halloween).

Scientific: A popular staple of the genre is the mad scientist, with a brilliant mind yet fanatically driven, blinkered vision that can lead to all sorts of evil, whether it be accidental or intentional. Dr Jekyll, Dr X, Fu Manchu and Professor Quatermass have all created terrifying progeny of science. Frankenstein’s monster is a product of a man’s obsessive determination to create life from dead flesh, but who is really the monster – the creation or the creator? Concerns about the threat of the atom bomb and the destruction of the world through the clinical and relentless pursuit of science reflected very real fears of the time; both the ants of Them! and Gojira are brought into being by the atomic bomb. What’s interesting about the latter is that, while it is ultimately science that saves the day, it also explores the ethical considerations of using science for evil as well as good. Speculative or science fiction-based horror also offers cautionary tales of well-meaning research gone wrong, a trait particularly common in the films of David Cronenberg, but it would be wrong to think of these films as somehow Luddite – in many ways they uphold the ethos of progress through daring invention, even if the initial test results go awry.

‘THE WORLD IS SO DIFFERENT IN THE DAYLIGHT. BUT AT NIGHT, YOUR FANTASIES GET OUT OF HAND.’4 – THE MECHANICS OF THE SCARES

As with all movies horror films have a specific language that the audience subconsciously learns how to read. The film Scream, for example, knowingly explains the plot mechanics of the slasher movie whilst itself being a film of that sub-genre. These conventions are all part of the mechanism of developing the scare. Although they can be broken or twisted, it must be within the rules of narrative cinema, so that the audience remains aware of the plot’s direction. Even if they are wrongfooted, temporarily or permanently, it is generally within the parameters of standard narrative convention, to emphasise the meaning of the film. Horror’s main aim is to elicit fear, terror or an unnerving sense of unease in the viewer, and there are many techniques that the director, and the sound and film editors, can employ when it comes to generating tension and pacing.

One of the simplest ways to create fear is by not showing anything at all. The shot of a single face screaming in terror, for example, can trigger the viewer to imagine a cause more horrifying than any director could show. This method can also be used to get a lower certification or simply to disguise a modest effects budget. When employed cleverly (Curse of the Cat People, The Haunting), the effect is truly spine chilling. However, such means do not always sustain a sense of fear for the entire running time and often the filmmaker is forced to show some form of monster, lest the audience feel cheated.

There are fundamental differences between tension, suspense and shock. Hitchcock was renowned for using suspense in films that, bar a couple, would not conventionally be considered horror pictures, but the effect of the technique remains the same. In the classic text Hitchcockby Truffaut, Hitchcock explains the difference between surprise and suspense by reference to a hypothetical film scenario involving a bomb under a table in a restaurant. In one film the audience is unaware of the bomb, in the other they are not: ‘In the first case we have given the public fifteen seconds of surprise at the moment of the explosion. In the second we have provided them with fifteen minutes of suspense. The conclusion is that wherever possible the public must be informed.’5

Hitchcock’s perceptions on the difference between surprise and suspense are acute but sometimes the surprise is what the audience want, the thrill of the quick adrenaline rush caused by a sudden, unexpected shock. The technique of using tension plays somewhere between suspense and shock and is extremely important in the horror genre, the filmic equivalent of misdirection in a particularly good magic trick. Tension is created by giving the audience a hint of what could happen, but not letting on when or how. Tension can be used on both a filmic level and a scenic level. Horror films tend to play tension one of two ways on a filmic level. The first is to slowly build the horror, dropping clues and subtle hints, with each confrontation becoming nastier right up to the final showdown (The Omen effect). The other device is completely opposite and shows all the nastiness right at the start, confronting the audience head on. There is no need to show further terror to the same degree, because the tension is established. The audience know how nasty things can get, but are still completely in the dark as to how much worse it could be (the Maniac effect). On a scenic level tension provides an intense feeling in the audience – that ‘edge of the seat’ feeling. They are fully aware that something bad is going to happen but are forced to wait. Think of the diving scene in Jaws, the kitchen sink sequence in A Tale of Two Sisters or any scene where a lone, jittery person (usually a woman) walks down a dank corridor. Music, or lack of it, often plays a vital role in creating this kind of tension.

The technique of shock is occasionally preceded by tension but doesn’t have to be – take the bus death scene in Final Destination, for example. Red herrings are, naturally, obligatory in most productions – why go for a complicated scare when a false alarm is just as effective? This is known as ‘the bus’, a term which derives from Jacques Tourneur’s Curse of the Cat People. After an interminably tense walk through a park where we are convinced the protagonist is going to be savagely attacked, the hiss of a bus’s brakes causes the audience to leap out of their seats. The scene concludes with safety for the character and a massive shock for the audience, who expected a far less fortunate outcome. Similar uses are made of cats (Alien) or, popular in modern horrors, two people bumping into each other in a school corridor, always accompanied by an accentuating musical ‘dah-dah!’ that provides a cheap shock without any actual consequence.

Essential to the maintaining of suspense, tension or shock is the use of music and sound effects, or occasionally lack thereof. The aforementioned shot of a jittery figure walking down a corridor can be enhanced immeasurably by either the simple echoes of her footsteps and the drip-drip of a broken pipe, or by an ominous score. Similarly, shock can be generated by a deliberately loud foley effect or a sudden atonal orchestral crash. Tension can be elicited by a steady increase in the music’s rhythm and tempo, which causes the audience to imagine that a grisly conclusion to the scene is imminent. Foley effects enhance any scenes of bloodshed or mayhem, the simple sound of a cabbage being sliced can give the impression of someone being decapitated – it is the marriage of sound and visuals that create the overall effect. Often foley effects can be used to imply violent action that occurs offscreen or make apparently innocuous activities appear grotesque, for example, the dumpling eating scenes from Fruit Chan’s Dumplings.

‘MOVIES DON’T CREATE PSYCHOS, THEY JUST MAKE THEM MORE CREATIVE’6 – THE VIEWER’S RELATIONSHIP TO THE HORROR FILM

The complex relationship between viewer and screen provides a variety of conflicts that form the tone and emphasis of a particular film. This isn’t exclusive to horror, but the way in which various viewpoints are mixed dictates the overall feel of a piece and marks the film as horrific. Key to the success lies with the director’s ability to appeal to an audience’s emotional response rather than a logical one – the medium is inherently artificial so the viewer’s suspension of disbelief is vital if the film is to have resonance. The three primary modes of audience relationship to the screen in the horror film are: voyeur, victim and violator.

Voyeur: The privileged spectator watches the acts of terror from a detached viewpoint. The enjoyment lies in the spectacle or the relaying of the story. The advantaged viewpoint allows us to see events that are denied the protagonists, for example, the viewer is made aware of a killer waiting patiently in a darkened room while the victim is unaware of his presence. Linked with voyeurism is scopophilic desire and, conversely, helplessness that derives from being outside narrative intervention. However, the detached viewpoint can result in a disinterested perspective, which allows the audience the luxury of viewing the film at an aesthetic level, removing any personal attachment to the characters. Although this position is generally undesirable in a horror film, as character empathy makes the experience more thrilling, there are exceptions: in Jörg Buttgereit’s Der Todesking, aesthetic distancing pushes matters into the arena of the art film and renders the morbid events less exploitational.

Victim: Empathy with the character and experiencing the action from their viewpoint occasionally makes the viewer the surrogate victim of the horror. While the advantaged viewpoint leaves the spectator helpless, there is at least no direct threat to them, but from the victim’s point of view this is not the case. In The Texas Chain Saw Massacre when Sally regains consciousness we watch (as she does) the ogling faces of the cannibal family who have captured her. In a sense we have become her for that moment.

Violator: The camera as killer is a popular component of the horror film from Peeping Tom to Halloween and Wolfen. The viewer sees as the killer does and becomes implicated in the perpetration of the atrocity. This aspect has created much of the outrage against stalk ‘n’ slash films of the early 1980s, when it was argued that viewing through the killers’ eyes reinforced the misogynist attitudes of these pictures and somehow encouraged the spectator to align with this way of thinking. Associating with the killer through their point of view can create paradoxical reactions and meanings for the viewer – on one hand we become the killer and are granted the privileged position of seeing the murder, but simultaneously we are distanced from the act because these actions are pre-determined by the film’s director. This technique can be used not only to identify with the killer but also to hide their identity, a common device in giallo films where the subjective viewpoint provides empathetic thrills but denies the revelation of the murderer.

These three devices do not necessarily remain isolated. In Henry:Portrait of a Serial Killer, Henry and Otis abuse and butcher a family. We see the scene, without cuts, from the point of view of a camcorder that is recording the slaughter, initially as violator (the scene begins with the camera handheld) before becoming a detached voyeur (as the camera is abandoned so its operator can join in the murder). Sometimes all three techniques are used simultaneously. In the prom massacre sequence in Carrie the scene is played in split-screen so we simultaneously view the carnage from afar, from Carrie’s viewpoint and from her victims’ perspective. Knowingly cinematic, the result makes the viewer at once voyeur, victim and violator.

‘CENSORS TEND TO DO WHAT ONLY PSYCHOTICS DO: THEY CONFUSE REALITY WITH ILLUSION.’7 – CENSORSHIP AND THE SCARY MOVIE

Almost all countries have some form of classification or censorship system, even if it is voluntary. The history of the horror film is tied up with that of censorship in a number of ways. Horror is considered to be lowbrow entertainment even in cinematic terms and calls have always existed for the establishment to curtail excesses in popular arts or impose some kind of morality code. Censorship creates problems for the horror filmmaker as different taboos are given different weight in different countries – what is acceptable in one country can be banned in another. But whatever these difficulties, horror’s relationship with the censors has driven the market in various directions. A film like King Kong would not have had the same level of violence had it been made a few years later when the Hays Code (a code of morality designed to curtail the decadent excesses of Tinseltown at a time of authoritarian Puritanism) had fully been implemented in 1934. It is interesting to note also the difference in tone between Frankenstein and its sequel Bride ofFrankenstein, which were respectively made either side of this implementation. This code of morality effectively restricted depictions of sex and violence on American cinema screens. In the UK the BBFC (British Board of Film Censorship, now Classification) had its own, occasionally bizarre, approach to censorship that has been at times far more arbitrary than its American counterpart the (superficially voluntary) MPAA, even taking artistic merit into account as a criterion for classifying films.

The collapse of the American studio system in the late 1960s heralded a new era of unbridled sex and violence in the States. On the surface the relaxation of censorship seemed just to offer a carnival of excess, but there were also political and radical considerations. The breakdown (albeit temporarily) of censorship guidelines regarding feature films in the USA certainly allowed for a greater degree of exploitation, viscera and even, briefly, the mainstream acceptance of hardcore pornography, but, more importantly, it also allowed people to criticise the political process. The emergence of the counterculture movement and the increasingly bloody and desperate state of affairs in Vietnam provided the impetus for a slew of horror films that used this new found freedom to criticise the government in a way that would reach people not normally exposed to political allegory. In Spain the horror film (and even films about horror films, such as Spirit of theBeehive) was the only way that political allegory could be distilled to the masses under the oppressive Franco regime – its fantastic nature allowing it to sink beneath the radar of the authorities. It is a trend that was adopted in many countries, especially those that viewed the films as beyond contempt and hence beyond concern. While many horror films are just made for exploitation or simply entertainment purposes the links between political subversion and the horror film are strong, providing an alternative to reactionary state entertainment and showing a mirror to society’s concerns. It’s a strange situation that has some markets censoring horror films for their visual content, while in some countries filmmakers use the genre to bypass censorship of politically subversive commentary.

Whatever the reason for censorship it has created a market amongst aficionados for films to be seen in their original state (i.e. uncut), a situation particularly notable in the UK following the notorious ‘video nasties’ panic in the early 1980s. The start of the home video boom had caught the authorities by surprise. There was no regulated form of censorship for video and a moral panic was unleashed by the tabloid newspapers outraged by the availability of such notorious titles as Cannibal Ferox and The Beast in Heat. Following a series of trials the decision was made to censor videos in the same manner as film, but on a far stricter basis – due to their availablity in any living room and the viewer’s ability to pause the ‘good bits’ – resulting in nearly two decades of mangled content. This situation has, to a large extent, now changed, although the legacy of these early witch-hunts can still be felt. The worldwide nature of the Internet has made it easier to obtain full prints of films for home viewing, although there are still restrictions that apply to various territories. In the US there are ratings that allow graphic sex and violence but they are generally avoided in favour of the more financially viable (and viewable) R-rating. It’s often this version that is shipped to other countries. Restrictions are also applied, arguably more stringently, to imported films such as Haute Tension and Braindead, both of which were savagely cut to make them acceptable as R-rated films. In the UK, animal violence is prohibited by law and excised from prints. In Japan pubic hair is prohibited, but not sex or extreme violence. The Central Board of Film Certification in India removes anything deemed ‘offensive’ including nudity, graphic violence and political sensitivity. In France, films are not cut but they can receive prohibitively high classifications for violence or be banned on political grounds (The Battle ofAlgiers) while in Germany horror films are routinely cut or banned outright. The result is a world where anything goes and everything is denied. Somewhere.

‘YOU CAN’T KILL THE BOOGEYMAN’8 – REPETITION, REMAKES, RECYCLING AND REINVENTION

A prominent aspect of any genre film is the familiarity of the concept, the repetition of ideas that provide a short-hand for audience tastes. Cinema is a commercial artform and its success is measured in cold hard cash spent at the box office, so proven storylines inevitably generate imitations. Since the earliest days of cinema, popular films have spawned sequels to keep the audience coming back for more. Why bother creating something entirely new, and untested in the marketplace, when existing material featuring popular characters is already there? What is unusual about the horror genre is the sheer number of sequels that can be generated. Sure, The Godfather and Pirates of the Caribbean have had two sequels (and may yet go on to more) but that doesn’t compete with seven Halloween sequels and a remake, nearly a dozen Friday the 13th films or the eighteen follow ups to Troublesome Night.

There are three elements to the horror franchise based around the popularity of the original film. The first is that of the sequel. If a film is popular, continue the story but make it bigger, louder and with more thrills. Film fans can spend many happy hours debating whether there is a sequel that is truly greater than the original film, but the studios will keep churning them out until the returns diminish. The 1980s were a strange time for cinema, suffering as a result of the popularity in video. However, horror films thrived, giving us more Nightmare on Elm Street films than was really necessary. Perhaps this was a reflection of the fact that cinemas are dark places away from the prying eyes of other family members… and a horror flick is an ideal date environment for teen couples.

The next is that of the reinvention. Although purists will argue that the original is always the better film, it nevertheless makes sound business sense to rejuvenate past successes. Horror films are most popular with 15-24 year olds, so if a story works, why not make it again, but update it for the next generation? A popular story can easily accommodate a reinvention every decade or so. The Universal monster movies of the 1930s (Dracula, Frankenstein) were remade by Hammer in the 1950s and 1960s. These monsters appeared yet again in big budget Hollywood productions in the early 1990s as well as in a number of TV incarnations in the interim. They remain popular today, but each becomes relevant to its contemporary audience. Dracula, for example, remains one of the most filmed books with key adaptations in 1922, 1931, 1958, 1970, two in 1979, 1992, 2000/1 and so on. Guy Maddin’s remarkable Dracula:Pages from a Virgin’s Diary even turned the novel into a ballet.

Finally there are remakes. Some of the top horror films of the 1970s – Dawn of the Dead, The Texas Chain Saw Massacre, The Hills Have Eyes, Halloween – now find themselves ‘sexed-up’ for a modern audience with state-of-the-art gore effects and pounding soundtracks. Things become increasingly confusing when these films spawn their own sequels: after all, the film that came after George A Romero’s Dawn of the Dead (1978) was Day of the Dead (1985), not Dawn of theDead 2. Is The Hills Have Eyes 2 (2007) a remake of The Hills Have Eyes2 (1985) or a sequel to The Hills Have Eyes (2006) which was a remake of The Hills Have Eyes (1977)? Does it matter?

An altogether more contentious area is the foreign remake. Many classic horror films that were popular in their native country have been remade by Hollywood to appeal to an English-speaking audience who either can’t be bothered to read subtitles, are unaware of the original’s existence or simply unable to see the original. The remake becomes more bizarre when the directors who gained acclaim for their films remake them for the (richer) Hollywood studios – George Sluizer remade his excellent Spoorloos as the depressingly poor The Vanishing while Ole Bornedal was persuaded to remake his serial killer film Nattevagten as the less tense Nightwatch. Stranger still is the case of Hideo Nakata whose Ringu (1998), itself a remake of a 1995 TV movie but which gained international attention, was remade by Gore Verbinski in the States. For the sequel to the US film they brought in Nakata, who had helmed Ringu 2 (1999) in Japan, to make Ring 2 in Hollywood – but a different Ring 2 to his Japanese sequel!

Audience turnover combined with the joy of the familiar has ensured that we will continue to get repetition, remakes and reinvention. From a marketing point of view, even if the audience has not seen the original film, the familiarity of the titles and characters means that half the advertising task – awareness of product – is already complete. The title ‘Jaws’ alone is enough for most people to be aware of a killer shark movie because of cultural exposure to the iconic original. The title ‘Tongue’, an imaginary film about ruthless mutant gila monsters terrorising Surrey, has no such association and would be far harder to market, even if it was a better product.