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Few cultural combinations are as ubiquitous in our world as the approach of Halloween and watching movies, scary or no. Although I was certainly not a horror fan as a kid, a late-night showing of IT in 2017 changed that in an instant. Over the last three years, since I’ve used the website Letterboxd to keep track of my movie-watching, I’ve seen 120 horror movies from 1922 to 2023. While enjoying a movie for the sake of art or entertainment is certainly not an invalid way to watch, applying a more analytical lens can reveal surprising insights.
2023’s Talk to Me is not only a thrilling, terrifying movie boasting the sort of straight-up low budget approach to violence and gore that made films like Saw or Terrifier classics, it is also a pertinent reminder of how the horror genre got its name. My horror viewing over the last few years has consisted of a lot of outside picks. The Scream franchise, which Nadia and I binged to go see Scream VI in theaters, is certainly a slasher, but also pulls strongly from slapstick comedies, parody films, and whodunnits. Classic franchise such as Hellraiser or Nightmare are certainly entertaining, but I think one would be hard pressed to find a modern viewer with enough suspension of disbelief to let themselves be scared by the movies. Talk To Me wants nothing to do with blurring the lines of genre or discussions on form and tropes or horror. The film has one goal: shock and horror. For the horror-illiterate I’d compare the experience to that of reading Tolkien, Herbert, and Martin for years, and then picking up a Ray Bradbury short story that blew you away. Of course, the big genre-bending experiments, whether it’s the horror epic Salem’s Lot or the cartoonishly funny Evil Dead 2, will remain classics for a reason. But its important to get back to basics every once in a while.
Horror movies are allowed to tackle many issues that more mainstream movies seem unable to touch, specifically social issues. Of course, there’s always been extensive queer representation in horror, whether that representation is always positive is certainly another conversation, and prominent issues of race and class have horror movies on them as well. But religion is an issue that horror movies, what with the demons and devils and lack of hope, are uniquely tailored to speak on. Perhaps that is why The Exorcist, a movie constantly concerned with faith and doubt, has remained in the zeitgeist for so long. It does not remain in a simple way either. The film showcases the power of the institution of the Catholic Church, but also questions the legitimacy of its beliefs without ever giving a definitive answer on the power of religion and belief. While criticizing the Catholic church is not an unpopular practice in the U.S., The Exorcist does not just settle for criticism without showing both sides of the coin. The Lighthouse is another, much weirder, example of the powerful themes available to a director through the horror genre. Though many horror and non-horror movies pull from world religions and mythologies, the genre of horror allows for a director to pull from darker parts of these legends. Killing a seabird, stealing light, a tower shooting into the sky, being seduced by a mermaid, the violent delights of drunken revelry producing their violent ends, these ideas touched on by folklore from around the world and throughout history receive a cursory glance from mythologically-based action or drama movies. But without the limitations of cleanliness, taste, or presentability, the genre of horror allows for these themes to be explored in full.
Finally, Horror brings people together. At least, my people. Group viewings of Hereditary were a staple of my high school social life, while 20% of the movies Nadia and I have watched together have been horror. Jordan Peele, one of the few directors who started their career after the year 2000 and can still get butts in theater seats, has only directed horror films. Peele’s career behind the camera in horror started after a successful comedy career, and these two genres are known for being intertwined in many ways. This entanglement helps illustrate my point. Sure a comedy movie is fine on one’s own, but is it not always better, funnier, and more deserving of genuine laughter when watching it with others? Horror is much the same way. We don’t watch horror movies in a crowd to escape the terror, although there’s no denying that horror movies are a classic date options for a reason. We watch it in a crowd to share the terror the same way we watch comedies in a crowd to share the laughter. Did I show my friends Midsommar so that I could find comfort from the viscera on screen and ominous tone behind it? No, we watched Midsommar to share in the experience of being horrified. Some horror movies prove this horror/comedy closeness on repeated viewings. The Killing of a Sacred Deer is no doubt horrifying. But, thanks to the careful work of Yorgos Lanthimos behind the camera and Collin Farrell in front, the movie works as simultaneously a comedy and horror movie. No laugh track or violin screeching, simply proof that the two genres are closer together than most people think.
Every time I watch a movie, I bring with me every other movie I’ve ever seen. I don’t see a whip-pan without thinking of La La Land, I don’t hear swelling brass without wondering if John Williams did the score, and I don’t see a horror movie without remembering all that has come before it. Whether marathoning all nine Saw movies to make it to the new one in theaters or just putting on a cozy monster flick from the 30s, each entry into this wider horror cannon changes and comments on the whole in a unique way.
Bradfield Ross is a McConnell Scholar in the class of 2026. He is studying philosophy, political science, and French at the University of Louisville.