First of all, “Indie Arthouse” has been around for a long damn time. Since the creation of cinema, there have been renegade hipsters who challenged the boundaries of mainstream cinema. Think of a movie like Peeping Tom – one of the first POV-shot horror films. You’ve got a general non-conformity to norms, elevated themes (albeit through a more straight-forward medium), and grander ideas than some slasher drivel. To suggest that filmmakers haven’t been pushing boundaries for decades is a bit of lunacy, but we’ll forget about that for now.
Coming from a creative type like Ellis, whose very own American Psycho can be pigeonholed as “Indie Arthouse Horror,” the degradation of a creative movement is absolutely baffling. We’ve transcended the walls of horror into these emotional, through-provoking realms where death means more than a random spurts of blood. Doors are being opened for new, fresh ideas in horror (think of a beautiful composition like Todd Strauss-Schulson’s The Final Girls), and while one might not embrace each brooding effort, the bastardization (AND CLASSIFICATION) of ambition does absolutely no good. Just look at poor Guillermo del Toro, and the unjust backlash against his poorly marketed, unfairly bashed Gothic HORROR romance, Crimson Peak.
There are warriors of the night who constantly fight for their genre, and those are the people you should be listening to. Exciting things are happening in horror right now, and to write them off is utterly thoughtless. These movies don’t have to be straight-forward scary. Fans have long been complaining about the stale nature of mainstream horror, yet when something new comes along, it’s not scary enough, or too foreign.
We’ve come to a crossroads where horror fans have become snakes eating their own tails, crying out for the very types of films they’re now being granted. We’re dangerously close to reaching a point where I throw my hands in the air, unable to determine what it is that horror fans honestly want. We’re talking a complete segregation of horror culture, where each group snootily proclaims their dominance through hate, bile, and relentless arguments. Like The Warriors, or some gangland dystopia.
So, in closing – what good comes from dissecting horror into a billion little pieces? Horror is ever-evolving, and for the better. Trends come and go, but that’s how filmmakers learn. Furthermore, the definition of horror applies to an infinite pool of interpretations based on our own most exposed emotions. At an older age than I’d like to admit, Chucky was a source of many nightmares. I’ll never be able to explain it, but when admitting to friends how utterly horrified even his form made me feel, I was met with laughs. Silly, I agree, but they never experienced the paralyzing rigidness and elevated heart-rate I felt every single time a Seed Of Chucky commercial (YES, I WAS A WEENIE) came on television. There was no comparison.
Sure, I could have battled my case, but other less sympathetic ears weren’t experiencing my plight, and the argument would never find resolution – that’s where we are today, on a much bigger scale. Everyone has their own special definition of horror, and many die-hards are unwilling to accept another’s personal description. Horror is precious, but it’s better shared. Can’t we all sit around a campfire, roasting marshmallows and singing “Kumbaya” while Jason stalks from afar?
Our obsession with classification is tearing horror apart. At least from what I see. The genre is thriving, moving in directions yet to be explored, but we’re too busy fighting over how to strip films of their individuality for sorting into boxed cubbyholes. I know we’re taught, at a young age, that everything has a place. Toys in their boxes, crayons by color, so on, and so forth – but that’s not horror.
Horror brings together those who boast individuality, and have fought those very rules; souls searching for meaning and community. Funny how a genre built on gore, chills, and sleepless nights is more about bringing people together, right? Let’s not let silly arguments start driving people away, chased off by unintelligible entitlement issues and greedy beliefs that horror is argumentatively personal, and not communal.
Horror is horror – can’t we leave it at that? Agreed, Mr. Coffman – this is why we can’t have nice things.
P.S. All hail Black Phillip.