I'm Right Here, Horror. Come and Get Me!

I am fascinated by the horror movie genre and I consume it all, arthouse, psychological, sequels, and slasher. There are some movies that are a pitch-perfect descent into your deepest subconscious fear, and they cling to you, paralysing your brain with fear hours after watching them; others are so god-awful, so over the-top-or poorly executed, that they unknowingly become funny, and in the process, inadvertently become a certain kind of good. Horror has its way of becoming a foray into an adventure where you suddenly take your thumb off the control button of your life and cease to be a mere spectator yelling at the screen, and willingly immerse yourself right into the middle of the chaos and gore, and for a few hours step into the protagonist's shoes...or that of the delectably persuasive or mind-bendingly sadistic villain.

Why is it that we are so drawn to horror movies? Are we in some way, testing the limits of what we can endure? Are we now inured to basic level fear, so jaded by what we are bombarded with in media and real life, that we thrill-seek as we netflix queue-surf, to find more perverse stories in the hopes of doing more than raise a few hairs on our forearms and feeling alive again?

Bear with me, while I share this terrifying genre's allure, and why I cannot seem to get enough of it.

First, I am comforted knowing the scenario unraveling before my eyes is not real, and safely on a screen, immobilized by pushing "pause" on the on the remote control--it is unable to reach out and grab me. Maybe this also explains my willingness to go on virtual thrill rides, while being crazily fearful of real speed, motion, and height thrills like roller coasters or cliff diving, or hell, even going down a really long, tall slide. Folks, I'm the person who, if I rode a glass elevator anywhere above a few floors and looked down, I would automatically projectile vomit all my stomach’s contents onto the pretty glass walls, the floor, and the unfortunate people who happen to have the misfortune of being there with me.

Second, it is a potent wake up call to appreciate that real life, for the most, is less complicated and dramatic. Hopefully. What rarely loses the power to put me in a better mood when I’m having a crappy day? Bingo, you got it: curling up on the couch with buttery popcorn, watching other people run amok screaming, getting their heads lopped off, ending in a spectacular shower of Kool Aid-bright special effects blood. Not a popular opinion, perhaps, but it releases pent up tension as well as meditation. Or sex. Cross my heart.

I did seriously consider at many points in my life that, because of this almost-addiction to horror movies, there may be something seriously wrong with me as a decent, empathetic human being. Was I was a very dark, dark soul, a misanthrope and going straight to hell? Mmm, no that's not it. I just enjoy dissecting these movies and putting them back together, making my own cinematic binge-watch Frankenstein's Monster.

I recently added a third reason for the allure of horror: our current shut away from one another, the pandemic placing us into our own zombie apocalypse scenario. It is a little bit of a shoot off of the second reasoning, with its things-cannot-possibly-get-any-worse vibe, but it ultimately, brilliantly, is also presenting a glimpse into our human behaviour, or innate response when in crisis mode. When an evil pushes and pokes us into the corner we get over differences. We get over ourselves and get wise fast. We band together to confront the demons. We get shit done. We already come equipped with our own bad-assery believing without question, that we always triumphant over malevolence, or go down with our last fighting breath, trying.

Tricia De Jesus-Gutierrez (also known as Phynne~Belle in certain circles), is a San Francisco Bay Area poet, podcaster, and blogger. To follow along on her current projects, go to her Ko-fi page.