phillips, projected fears, 1-10

7/28/2019 Phillips, Projected Fears, 1-10

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Pro ject"J F"rrsHORROR FITMS AND AMERICANCUTTUREKendall R. Phillips

Westport, ConnecticutLondonRAEGER


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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication DataPhillips, Kendall R.Projected fears : horror films and American culture / Kendallp.cm'Includes bibliographical references and index.ISBN 0-275-98353-6 (alk. paper)1. Horror films-United States-History and criticism. I. Title'PN1995.9,H6P44 2005797.43'6164-dc22 2004028376British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data is available.Copyright @ 2005 by Kendall R. PhillipsAll rights reserved. No portion of this book may bereproduced, by atty process or technique, without theexpress written consent of the publisher.Library of Congress Catalog Card Numbev 2oo4o28376ISBN: 978-O-313-36182 -1First published in 2005Praeger Publishers, BB Post Road West, Westport, CT 06881An imprint of Greenwood Publishing Group, Inc.www.praeger.comPrinted in the United States of America@'The paper used in this book complies with thePormanent Paper Standard issued by the NationalInformation Standards Organization (239.4s-19s4).10987654327

R. Phillips.

I dedicate this book to my family: to my father for iumping with meat fason's appearance in the final moments of Fridoy the Thirteenth,to my brother for taunting me into seeing Halloween, and to mymother, who never wanted me to watch these "ugly films" in thefirst place.


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InfuoJuctionWhen I teII people that I'm working on a book about horror fiImsthere are two typical reactions. The first is a mildly incredulous,ftOh," For some, including many within academic circles, horrorfllms hardly constitute worthy cultural texts for analysis. This reac-tlon is compounded as I explain that, rather than pursuing arcanefllm history or neglected cult classics, I'm focusing on those filmsthat gained a wide mainstream audience. While it is certainly truethat the study of popular culture has gained great ground in aca-demic circles over the last few decades, there is still a strong strainof contempt for those cultural artifacts and icons that attain widelevels of popularity. So, due to this first reaction, I've found myselfbeing strategically vague about my current work when in certaincompany.The vast majority of the people in my life, fortunately, have adifferent and much more positive reaction, which focuses onwhat I call the "top-ten list." This reaction sometimes comes as aquestion-"So, what is the best horror fiIm of all time?"-and isusually followed by a story-"I remember when I first saw film X.I was fourteen and I ..." Over the past few years of these conversa-tions, I've been struck by the variety of narratives people spinabout their memorable encounters with scary films. These storiescertainly vary in the kinds of films people recall as frightening.While many are traditional horror fiIms, it's surprising how oftenfiIms from other genres appear, including the remarkably pervasivefear evoked by The Wizard of Oz.I'm also surprised by the variety


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of reaclions reported. My father recalls riding along dusty grnvolroads in the back of a pickup truck after seeing Drucula in theearly 1930s and starting at every shadow and overhanging limb.A friend tells the story of being terrified by an afternoon showingof Nightmare on Elm Street as a child but sneaking back into thetheater to watch it again. Over the years, people have described tome their sleepless nights and locked doors and romantic interludes.After listening to literally hundreds of these stories, I'm particu-larly impressed by the impact these films have had on individuals.People carry these stories with them, recount the most disturbingmoments, and recall their peculiar reactions.-Horror fi114s, pelhapsmore than any other type of film, seem to impact people's lives. Infairness, the biggest impression is often when we are children oradolescents and are beginning to struggle with societal boundariesand forbidden knowledge. The film that I recall scaring me themost-and it's a question I often get asked-w as Hallowien. I wasfar too young to see Halloween in its first run. However, my brother,who is several years my elder, had seen the film and crept into mybedroom late one evening to recount the tale of Michael Myers com-ing home. So, with remarkable ease, the next night my olderbrotherhelped me sneak into a crowded theateq where we illicitly watchedJohn Carpenter's classic.When I watch the film now I'm always struck by how different itseems from my recollection of it. In particular, I recall being mosthorrified by the sequence in which Laurie (Jamie Lee Curtis) is run-ning down the block, desperately banging on the doors of her neigh-bors. Her cries are ignored, and she eventually must face the killerMichael Myers on her own. Of course, the sequence lasts only a fewseconds, but in my memory the memory of a nine-year-old boy sit-ting in a crowded north Texas theateq the sequence of suburbanpursuit lasted forever.

When I think about this memory now, it makes a great deal ofsense. I was a young boy living in a neighborhood not entirelyunlike the one depicted in the film-indeed, the fiImmakersintended the neighborhoods of Haddonfield to have this genericquality-and like most young people, I was dependent on theadults in my life (family, neighbors, teachers, etc.) for safety.I,aurie's terrified flight through a neigh-borhood of closed doors,while utterly fantastlc, was no-t enrirel! alien to me, or in all likeli-hood, to the millions of other adolescents who flocked to the filmin lhe late 1970s.

Whllo rny flno(:doto, ancl lhoso ol'olhors, dopir:ts tho impact thalftlghtoning lilms have on us as individuals, I think it also opens upC broarlor quostion about culture-a question that sits at the heart of&lc book. Bach of us experiences a film individually, and our differ-3t lactos in films demonstrate how unique our individual reactionsEr, Yet, what are we to make of those films that seem to have tappedlato tho collective fears of an entire generation? Can we have whatf,lm thoorist Robin Wood calls "collective nightmares"?lIf so, howthguld we seek to understand those "projected nightmares" thattom to affect our broader culture? In other words, while any givenlm can be frightgning Ip a4y, gitqn individual, certain fiIms becomethe touchstone of fear for an en-tilq g91r-e1q!ion. It is as if, at certainpolnts, a particular film sg iaptures our cultural anxieties and con-Eenrs that our colJectiv-e fears. s-e.gp ploje.etgd o,nto the screen bgforeuB, Not every horror film achieves this effect, indeed, very few do,trut when a film does so touch our collective nerve, our reactions tolt ars unmistakable. We talk about these fiIms, debate their meaning,prsise and condemn them..These films that touch upon our collec-tlve fears become part of our culture'l'his is a bbok atiout'horror films. More specifically, it's a bookabout those horror films that made such an impression on Americanoulture that they became instantly recognizable and, indeed, rede-l'ined the notion of what a horror film is. In my estimation-aq es!i-mation I'lI try tp ju-stify in the ceur$.e o-f these p-ages-there are ten{ilms that can be thought of as having this kind of connection toAmerican cultuie: Dracuiia (rgsi), ini rhing from Another world(1.951), Psycho (rgoo), Night of the Living neid gsaa), The Exotcist(1,s73), The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1.s74), HaLhoween (1's7B),The Silence of the Lambs (1991), Scream (1996), and The SixthSense (1999). It is not my contention that these are, necessarily, themost frightening films ever made-a line of argument far too subiec-tive to make seriously-or that they are necessarily the mostoriginal-a line of argument more of interest to the fiIm historian.Rather, my argument in this book is that these are the most "succe-ss-ful" arid i'i'"fru",tti"I'1 honor fiIms in American history and thattheir level of success and. influence can bg.coqelated to broade-r 9gl-tural anxieties into which they somehgw tapped.When i say these films were successful, I mean not only that theyachieved financial success but also that each of these fiIms became"cultural moments." Of course, all ten of these films achieved hugebox-office success, and several did so with very little production


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value, promotion, or even major studio backing. I"'inanr:[al $1(;(:oss,however, is not enough to argue that these films are imporlant. Thehistory of film is replete with financially successful but instantlyforgettable films. still, these ten horror films have achieved a level'/ of cultural immortality far beyond their monetary profit. They havebecome part of our culture. what is particularly interesting_aboutthese films is that they became part of our culture almost-instantly.To attain trris t


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Of course, just as resonance alone would brood too rnuctr lirrnil-iarity, so too, violation alone would produce exasperation. Whilethere are any number of "art house" films that strive for a level ofincomprehensibility, for a horror $lm_'tg achievc an lmpac[ en thebroader cultural landscape, it must balance resonance and viola-tion. Thus, in my reading of the history o[ influentia_I Americanhorror films, I find the central, crucial glemgnt to be that gombina-tion of farmiliarity and shock-a combinalion I refer to a$ resonantviolationj {'Each of the ten films I examine in this book attained this resonantviolation at the moment of their release. It is not fust that they eachcontain elements that can be seen as resonating with broader cul-tural elements-most films achieve this to some extent. Nor is it justthat they violate audience expectations in shocking ways. Indeed,each of these fiIms had precursors. What these ten fiIms did, and didwith considerable elegance, was to-Combine familiarity and qfock-resonance and violation-in such a way that audiences left the theaterfeeling that each fiIm was both vitaliy important and disturbinglynew.*This strange relationship between the recognizqble and_theshocking is suggested by James Ursini who contends, "Horror isbased on recognizing in the unfamiliar something familiar."sThe concept of resonant violation does more than simply explainthe success of certain horror fiIms. It is my contention that this com-bination of the familiar and the unexpected suggests the broadercultural importance of horror fiIms. By drawing upon our collectiveanxieties-projecting them, even if indirectly, upon the screenbefore us-horror fiIms can be said to be vitally interested in thebroader cultural politics of their day. If resonance connects the hor-ror film to the broader politics of its ddy, what does the violatiqn of.expectations accomplfh? It seems to me, that the systematic vio_la-'tion of our narrative expectations almost forces us to think di-ffer-rintly aUout those anxieties, or at the very least, to think about ournormal patterns of dealing with those anxieties. Prawer suggeststhis relationship when observing, "If the terror film is thus con-nected to our social concerns, it also, paradoxically, helps us to copewith our ordinary life by jolting us out of it."10I believe this "jolting" is most evident and most effective in thekind of violation of expectations achieved by groundbreaking horrorfilms. These moments of resonant violation demonstrate toaudiences, at the very least, that our habitual ways of thinking abouttLe world can get ,rs ittto trouble and that *"'iI hurr" to firid"new

wuys ol't:opi11g. .Somo initial evidence lbr this claim can be olTeredln tho of'ten-made observation that horror fiIms tend to become morepopular during times of-social upheaval.l' PauI Wells, for instance,Assorts that "the history bf the horror film is essentially a history ofHnxiety in the twentieth century."12 When the culture is in lurmoil,I'crr some reaspg au.di_enqes flock to the horror film. Perhaps, duringlhoso times of gpeat, ge_4eralized social anxiety, the horror fiIm func-llons to shock its audience out of Lheir anxiel"y. Anxiety tends topromote q,pegs_g .9_f_helplessnessq fear, on the other hand, providesan impetus for change.'1_,9-f-.C-sucs.e-, aqaiqfies and tensions exist atall l.imes, not just [hose of gphea"?!. By resonating with these anxi-oties, whethe" gry[qit oi implicit, horror films provide a space forrofleCting o4 the.m-ft;lrollowing this Iine of argument, we should be able to gain a greatrloal of insight into American culture at particular moments in timeby lbcusing on those fiIms that attained the kind of widespread suc-cess and influence I've suggested above. Indeed, this is the ultimateHim of the present book: to examine the potential points of resonantviolation between influential horror films and the particular culturalmoments in which they emerged. I pursue this purpose by examin-lng each gf these,films with a p-artiCiilar ey-e..towards the brqed.ggl-trual issues and anxieties surrounding its release.lsThe criticis job, in essence, is to slow the fiIm down-pause overlhese points of connection between film and culture in ways that anrtudience cannot easily do during an initial viewing. I often think oflhis process as working like a roller coaster. Looking at a coasterlrom a distance, from the safety and solidity of the ground, we cansoe all the mechanisms that cause us to flip, fly, and spin. Whenwe're on the coaster we know these mechanisms exist, but if ther:oaster is successful we don't have time to reconcile that knowledgewith our thrills and shrieks. Horror fiIms, at least successfuI ones,operate in the same way. If we have the time and distance to see thenrtifice, then it doesn't work.Of course, an awareness of audience is crucial. Our goal is not tolook for any possible meaning but to seek those meanings that mightresonate with a given audience. Despite the temptation to view fiImsin the abstract as universal or transcendent symbols of some humanimpulse, we should never forget that they are shown in real spaceand time to real people who come for real reasons.lo We cannot hopelo know exactly what audiences made of each of these films, nor canwe hope to gain that knowledge through interviews or archival


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rssorrch. Our hope, rather, is tcl of'f'er an informed apeeulatlon uboutthe possible relationship between these culturally slgnlflcant fllmsand the broader culture within which they became So moaningfuland to ask the simple question, "Why?" Why did Drocu la or Halloweenoir The Silence of the Lambs become so meaningful to their respectiveaudiences? What in those films invited audiences to take them as someaningfuI and important? We are, in essence, seeking to sit along-side those audiences in those darkened theaters of tg3r or 1g60 or1968 and, with the benefit of hindsight and critical distance, examinethe complex relationship between film and culture, between fictionalfear and cultural anxiety, between familiarity and shock.My goal in the present book is to trace some of these points ofresonant violation in those horror films that have defined and rede-fined the notion of horror in American culture. By focusing eachchapter on one influential fiIm, I hope to provide a specific and par-ticular reading of those films that have had an irrefutable impact onAmerican culture and fiImmaking. By pursuing these influentialfilms in their chronological sequence, I hope to show the dynamicdevelopments in the broader genre. By the end of this book, then,we should be able to trace the changes in America's notion of horrorfrom Dracula to The Sixth Sense. By following the resonant viola-tion in these films, we should be able to examine the ways that ournotion of horror adapts to the particular cultural environment inwhich we face very real fears and anxieties. Ultimately, we shouldgain some insight into the dynamic processes by which we proiectour collective fears onto the screen and by which these fears areprojected back to us.

1 Draculo (193 1)"I am Dracula.... I bid you welcome."

The roots of the American horror film can be traced to turn of thecentury England. For it was in England in 1897 that Bram Stoker'sDracula first emerged from his crypt to frighten readers. Deeply in-lluenced by classical Gothic texts such as Horace Waldpole's TfteCastle Otranto t1,764) and following in the immediate footsteps ofMary Shelley's Fronkenstein (1818) and Robert Louis Stevenson's?'he Strange Case of Dr. IrAl and Mr. Hyde (taso), Stoker's novelwas, as Rosemary Jackson explains, "the culmination of nineteenth-century English Gothic."1

-J.gt, deqp-ite.-itS..pl,e-c,"9. f,n the literary canon and its popularity,Dracula was a sglp--r,l$i-rlg subjec-t fqr a 1930s Hollywood film. Thenovel is a massive, lgbyrinth-ine tale with a large cast of charactersand a-plot th"t spans ie"eral countrigs, What's more, the novel oozeswith violence, blood, and sexuality, all taboo during the restrictiveieign of the Production Code. Paramount Studio's supervisor E. f.Miintangi;iepoliiid the"ibiction of his reviewers to the prospect of afiImed version of Drucula in a company memo: "We did not receiveone favorable reaction. The very things which made people gasp andtalk about it, such as the blood-sucking scenes, would be prohibitedby the Code and also by censors. "2 One reader for Universal Studios-which would, of course, go on to produce the film version-notedthat the story "contained everything that would cause any averagohuman being to revolt or seek a convenient railing."3

phillips, projected fears, 1-10

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