It should be noted beforehand that this post contains so many fuckin’ spoilers your face will melt.

When asked what my favorite horror film I always say without missing a beat, “Session 9″ (review). There was a brief period a couple of months ago where Paranormal Activity (review) took the top spot, but careful reflection brought me back to Earth and to peddling the Brad Anderson-directed psychological thriller starring David fucking Caruso to anyone foolish enough to engage me in a discussion on horror movies.

It should be known that my love of this film borders on the extreme. The banner of I Love Horror is modeled after it (for now), and in addition to owning the DVD (natch) and a poster (true dat), I almost when so far as to buy a t-shirt featuring the film’s box art and final line of the movie, but was stopped when it was confirmed whoever made the shirt is lazy and printed them all with a crooked image.

But I digress.

When I first saw the film, I was confused. While not egregiously convoluted (like Primer), the confluence of events that lead up to the final line of the movie, which attempts to reveal why everything happened, does make one tend to scratch their head. There are little nuances and subtleties that have a tendency to be overlooked and picked up on only during second viewing. One of the aspects of the film that kept people guessing was Simon. Who is he? First some background.

In Session 9, a crew of asbestos abatement professionals are hired to  clean out the Danvers State Mental Hospital. Gordon, the Scottish and  likable leader of the crew, is showing signs of stress, brought about by  the birth of his daughter Emma and the apparent lack of work he and his  team has been receiving. Once inside, the cracks begin to show, and the building’s horrific past begins to reflect on the actions of the crew. One of  the workers eventually discovers a set of tapes that reveal a series of  interviews between a psychologist and a patient, Mary Hobbes.  Committed to the hospital for killing her brother and parents, it is revealed that Mary suffers from multiple personality disorder. In addition to the Princess and Billy, one of  the personalities is Simon, who is revealed to have introduced herself to  Mary when she fell upon a china doll she received as a gift, cutting her chest up and leaving her horrifically scarred. Simon tells Mary to kill, resulting in her incarceration.

Several theories have been put forth concerning Simon’s nature and his relationship to the events of the film, one of which I would like to discuss in greater detail. Ellen Datlow, in a book co-written by Terri Windling, postulates that Simon is a “malignant genius loci,” as opposed to Mary’s alternate personality. For those who didn’t waste $45,000 on Classics degree, a genius loci is a spirit from Roman mythology that dwells within a specific place, often serving as a protector. If used in a contemporary manner, it is often considered the atmosphere of a location as opposed to an incorporeal being, serving as a major principle of the New Rationalism architectural movement. Placed within the context of what happens to Gordon, this place is clearly the human mind.

<sidenote> When writing this article I took Datlow’s interpretation of “genius loci” to refer to the hospital itself. When watching the film again and coming up with my argument, it became clear the place she was referring to is the human mind. However, if my initial assumptions are indeed true, then Datlow’s interpretation is very, very wrong. </sidenote>

Throughout the film Simon’s voice is heard, typically in situations where Gordon’s sanity is revealed to be on shaky ground. The first instance occurs when Simon and Phil are making their initial inspections of Danvers. In an intensely creepy scene that sets the mood for the film, Simon introduces himself to Gordon by simply saying “Hello, Gordon” and forgoing any pleasantries. It should be known that at this point the audience is completely unaware of who – or what – Simon is.

Later that evening Gordon heads home to celebrate the winning bid with his wife and inadvertently causes a pot of boiling water to spill on his leg. Now, any normal individual, that is, one not affected by a failing career, the stress of a new daughter, and internal strife among his close friends and employees, would simply deal with the excruciating pain and move on. As we come to learn, it is this event that allowed Simon to exert his influence upon the already weakened Gordon (”Do it, Gordon”), resulting in the death of his wife, daughter, and dog (fucker wouldn’t stop barking).

The argument that Simon can be considered an alternate personality is given ample evidence with his appearance through the mouth of Mary following the utter breakdown of her other two personalities. With Gordon, we’re never given any indication that he is in any way apart of him. However, one of Mary’s alternate’s, Princess, claims to be unaware of Simon’s presence, something that is not entirely common in cases of multiple personality disorder. Billy, however, is perfectly aware of Simon, and at one point in the film states that he is “asleep” and that he would not wake him for Mary’s sake.

From this it can be rationalized that Simon is indeed a malevolent force that lies dormant in the mind waiting for the opportunity to introduce himself and exert his influence over the individual.  Billy’s awareness of Simon, as well as Simon’s introduction via Mary may lend credence to the notion that he is an alternate, though given the events that surround his introduction to Mary and Gordon this argument loses a modicum of credibility. To reconcile this, I posit that Simon is an inherent personality trait, or to extend this even further a distinct emotion, that manifested itself as an alternate personality in Mary, and although not expressly stated, an alternate of Gordon whose presence is kept secret and seen only when Gordon enters his dissociative state. I would thus agree with Datlow’s principle argument, though feel the dismissal of Simon as an alternate fails to take into account several key aspects of the film.

Although Mary and Gordon are similar, their primary difference lies in the fact that Mary, as far as we know, exhibited no signs of stress, anxiety or mental weakness before falling on the China doll. Simon utilized Gordon’s weakness by introducing himself earlier on (”Hello Gordon, do you know who I am?”), whereas with Mary he waited for an opportunity, though perhaps her other multiple personalities presented themselves before Simon made his appearance.

Any confusion regarding Simon’s true nature is summed up in the final line of the film: “I live in the weak and the wounded, doc.”

Not much thought is put into why a horror film is in fact called “horror.” A quick search for “horror film” reveals that the utilization of the word encompasses a wide variety of aspects and emotions associated with the genre, such as fear, terror, dread, anxiety, and anticipation. While no one knows why horror as opposed to any of these words has become synonymous with this type of film (if you do know, please, enlighten me), since the time of film’s humble beginnings the word has seemingly represented all these emotions. From ghosts to serial killers to torture, all fall under the umbrella of horror.

Another emotion exists that has been absorbed by horror yet deserves its own separate genre, that of terror. Horror and terror are two concepts that are inextricably bound together by a common theme, yet within the context of the arts they are considered to harbor mutually exclusive definitions. While most are relatively unconcerned with the difference between two words that have for only God knows how long been linked by such similar themes that any sort of distinction is completely unnecessary, this distinction is in fact quite important, especially when taken within the context of horror films; this contentious nature of their definitions does not begin with horror, however, but with Gothic literature.

This line of demarcation between horror and terror is brought to light by Ann Radcliffe, a pioneer of the Gothic novel who in 1826 wrote on their distinction and gave to us what can be considered the first official definition of the two words within the realm of the humanities. In On the Supernatural in Poetry, first published in The New Monthly Magazine 7, she describes terror as being “characterized by ‘obscurity’ or indeterminacy in its treatment of potentially horrible events, which in turn leads to the sublime. It expands the soul and awakens the faculties to a high degree of life” Conversely, horror merely “freezes and nearly annihilates them with its unambiguous displays of atrocity.”

Let’s look at it from another angle. Devendra Varma divides the two words in terms of “awful apprehension and sickening realization: between the smell of death and stumbling against a corpse.” The role of terror in frightening an individual deals with that which is unknown, while horror deals with the visual and the visceral. She continues, saying, “Terror thus creates an intangible atmosphere of spiritual psychic dread, a certain superstitious shudder at the other world. Horror resorts to a cruder presentation of the macabre: by an exact portrayal of the physically horrible and revolting, against a far more terrible background of spiritual gloom and despair. Horror appeals to sheer dread and repulsion, by brooding upon the gloomy and the sinister, and lacerates the nerves by establishing actual cutaneous contact with the supernatural…”

Most scholars and writers have a noted tendency to agree with Radcliffe and Varma, though some tend to put a different spin on the subject, such as Terry Heller, a professor of English at Coe College. He writes, “Terror is the fear that harm will come to oneself. Horror is the emotion one feels in anticipating and witnessing harm coming to others for whom one cares.” There are disagreements, though. Philip Van Doren Stern states that “nothing substantial can be truly horrible; it may not, by some odd quirk of association, inspire horror, but horror itself can be found only within ourselves. It is rooted in the imagination rather than in anything in the external world.” Others tend to mix the two emotions, such as Linda Bayer-Berenbaum, who applies the suggestive nature of terror to horror and vice versa, while at the same retaining the lasting power and potency terror has over horror. The words, then, are merely open to interpretation.

Though this debate is centered primarily within the realm of Gothic literature, one can easily see how these two words can be applied to what are generally agreed to be horror films. Can a horror film be distinguished from a “terror film,” or, to sound less ridiculous, a thriller? I think so. If, as a horror fan, I am qualified enough to put forth my own definition concerning the differentiation between what can be considered horrific and what can be terrifying in horror films, then I want to propose a simple syllogism: all horror films are thrillers, but not all thrillers are horror films. Let’s use Saw as an example, as it is one of the bigger names within the horror industry at the moment.

The goal of the Saw franchise is, in essence, to shock the viewer with graphic depictions of violence and gore. Using the commonly accepted definition of horror that was discussed above, the Saw franchise is one of unmitigated horror. The ‘unambiguous displays of atrocity’ are ubiquitous throughout the series, and are in fact the primary draw. But are they thrillers as well? As was noted above, fear is subjective. While the idea behind terror doesn’t lend itself to horror, horror does so to terror. In watching a man being kidnapped and tortured, one can easily find the dread, apprehension, and fear that is associated with it in oneself. The definition of terror is not as flexible as horror, as it eschews most of, if not all aspects of the visceral and visual, instead relying on suspense and the emotions that lend themselves to the fears inherent in everyone.

The biggest problem with horror nowadays is the lack of intelligence. All too often are writers and directors forgetting that the actual goal of a scary movie is to SCARE someone, yet they are perfectly content with throwing in senseless gore without purpose, and cheap one-off scares whose impact is fleeting. In the end, the only ones that suffer are the fans, and, by extension, the industry itself. By understanding the difference between horror and its offshoots, I think future writers and directors can more narrowly focus their intentions when making their movies, thus producing a better film. While merely breaking down the terms horror and terror into its base definitions will do nothing, I feel it’s necessary for horror fans to gain a little bit of insight into what makes horror horror, and from that they can approach the genre in a way that doesn’t make them drooling morons.

Bibliography

Devendra Varma (1966) The Gothic Flame. New York: Russell and Russell.

A friend of mine has graciously decided to contribute an article discussing the perceived differences between a horror film and a thriller film. Hopefully within the next day or two I’ll be able to contribute my side of the story. Enjoy.

Horror vs. Thriller – A Look at What Scares Us
by Nick Hoyt

I was having a discussion with Brad a few days ago, and we came upon a subject that I have been mentally masturbating about for years now. The idea that a horror film and a thriller can be one in the same, but that one cannot be the other. Of course I immediately disagreed with him saying that there is a definite moment that sets these genres apart, but is there truly a point at which we know the difference?

This idea stems from what horror and thriller both mean to us. We differ on our opinions of what the genres are, and I find that for me there is a fine line between horror and thriller. But I do believe that there can be a definitive line drawn. This line in the modern genre is defined by the unseen versus the seen. Modern horror is defined by how much we see of the killer on screen, and how often he is there to strike fear into our hearts. This effect though is becoming old hat because now this is what we expect from the genre. Movies like the Friday the Thirteenth series, the Halloween series, See No Evil, etc, have one element that ties them together. This is that they all show you the killer, and make it obvious what that killer’s goals and motives are. This is horrifying because you now know that they are out to kill and that’s it. So the question now arises, What do you expect from them when they are on screen? This question is easily answered by bloody, bloody death, dismemberment, faces being plowed into fryers, knives being stabbed through victims, you name it, it happens. And on top of this element of knowing what is coming there is something new added the unstoppable death machine. Characters like Jason, Freddy, and Michael Myers are the “unstoppable death machines” you can put round after round into them and they keep coming which adds to their on-screen time, and to their fear factor. It’s not enough that they kill for the sheer joy of it, but they have to be unstoppable to be truly feared.

Now a thriller is a much more in depth look at the psychology of film, and how thought can be easily used against us. Of course visuals are a great medium, but the idea of the unseen being there to pounce at any moment is one of the most terrifying thoughts you can have. You live alone in your apartment, you hear a noise. It’s just a noise nothing more, but your mind elaborates upon it; could it be a burglar? Possibly that serial killer I heard about on the news last night? Or could it be my cat jumping to get to his food of course the answer is probably this, but you cannot be sure until you get off your ass and check it out. This is how a thriller as a film works, instead of seeing through the eyes of killer you follow the victim around a corner to their death. This is much more psychological and terrifying. A great example of this is Jaws, of course this example was going to come up it is one of the greatest thrillers of all time. The first kill in Jaws is one of silence and stealth, two of the most terrifying things that come to mind. If someone or something can sneak up on you and kill you with your knowing you never really did stand a chance. At least with the unstoppable death machines you have a chance because you see them coming and have a slight chance to stop them. You may not know your fate like the audience does, but at least you got to put up a fight before you went.

This situation begs for the question to be asked: When is a thriller a horror movie, and when is a horror movie a thriller? The answer to this is that a horror movie can be a thriller, but a thriller is not a horror movie. Since thrillers can be classified into many different genres movies like Basic Instinct is obviously not a horror film, but is a thriller as well as Falling Down. But movies like Jaws and The Exorcist that are both horror and thrillers have a different edge than one of a single genre. Of course the true problem is not that the genres are different, they need to be for a good variety of film to be made, but that is not the defining problem. The problem is that the archetypal horror flick – and I use flick for good reason – has become standard, and the psychological horror thriller has been put on the back burner while sub-par gorefests rule the land. I have no qualms with the sub-par gorefests, but they are being made too often and grossing too much to be ignored. Let’s roll the clock back and take a look at horror from the 70’s to 80’s. These films were being made, but they were mostly low budget poor grossing cult films that a small audience would watch. These include films like Cannibal Holocaust, Zombie, Night of the Living Dead, Dawn of the Dead, Evil Dead and of course many more. These were all low budget, low profit, cult films and that side of the genre stayed that way for years. Now the cult market has sprung up as being low budget high profit, and they won’t stop being made until the profits dwindle. If a movie like Saw can be made for 10 million dollars, and profit in the hundreds of millions who would stop making them?! I know that I wouldn’t until I had completely exhausted my options. As fans we need to give an outcry for better, well-thought out horror films so that we can enjoy being truly terrified instead of being frightened by mere camera tricks.