My earliest memory of being terrified (and by that I mean true terror, the kind that suffocates your every waking moment with the dread of meeting some untimely end) came at the hands of Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer’s 1939 film The Wizard of Oz. The ‘Fly my pretties!’ scene had me petrified for weeks, as my daydreams and nightmares whirled with the cackles of green-faced witches in pointy hats and the cries of freakishly clever flying monkeys. My childhood fevers fizzed and shivered with fluorescent shapes and animals, and to this day I have a completely irrational phobia of garden peas, the frozen variety being the most dastardly of the wicked witch's minions. But why did one of the most famous musical films of all-time give me so many sleepless nights? And, at the risk of self-psychoanalysing at the expense of anyone unlucky enough to be reading this, what aspect of the film petrified me so much that for the next decade I would near enough vomit at the mere sight of a green pea?
The wicked witch of the West has a lot to answer for. Her evil cackle, sickly green features, omniscient crystal ball, and ruthless henchmen make her the archetypal bogeywoman. But what makes her really scary is the fact that she inhabits the wonderland that is Oz, appearing in a cloud of smoke to spread terror and fear wherever and whenever she pleases. That the wicked witch can move freely between her mountainside castle and the forests, towns, and cities of Oz to wreak havoc and destruction represents monumental damage to the conventional structures of good and bad that children learn to live their young lives by. In a vibrant, colourful place like Oz, where your dreams and ambitions can be fulfilled with one man's say-so, undermining such fundamental principles regarding the balance between good and evil conjured up a number of worrying questions in my young mind.
If it can happen in a sublime place like Oz, can it happen in real life too? That question was (and to some extent still is) at the forefront of my young mind. As an adult it's much easier to pick up on ideas within the subtext of the plot, such as; the potential of the unconscious mind, the deceptive nature of surface appearances, and the potential of the human will to overcome great adversity. But the nagging fear that chipped away at my very existence focused upon the idea that evil could enter our lives at anytime and in any form. What makes things worse in the case of Oz is that this evil takes the form of a woman, a maternal figure who in a child's eyes is more likely to nurse and nurture than come cackling and screaming from a cloud of smoke.
Despite the weighty nature of the doubts churning through my young mind, I watched the videotape of the film so many times that the machine tore a hole in the celluloid. And that's the key to watching films that scare us; they scare us and yet we come back for more time and again, revealing the real power of horror cinema. Through our impulsive reactions to the horrific events or characters/creatures on screen, horror films tell us more about ourselves than we probably care to know, though this ability is nearly always overlooked, resulting in the commercial failure of some very good contemporary horror movies.
To many, the modern horror movie is usually a gore or sexfest, the perfect vehicle for getting a first date kiss at the back of the cinema (or more if you're lucky and your film is particularly shocking). But horror cinema can be about so much more than that, and as someone who is not afraid to admit their fear of haunted plots and grotesque characters, I believe that I am pretty well placed to argue the point.
Ever since my terrifying Technicolor epiphany some twenty years ago, I have hidden behind pillows, cushions, fingers (usually my own), DVD cases, and just about any other object that I can get between my eyes and the screen, when watching a horror film. That’s not to say that I don’t appreciate or enjoy horror as a genre. Nine times out of ten the trailers at the cinema that catch my eye (and capture my imagination) are promoting horror movies. If I could just get through a whole feature length film without missing half of the action, I’d probably have a near-encyclopaedic knowledge of horror stylistics.
This is why I’ve decided to address my horror film fears by watching and writing about them. They say that the best way to overcome your fears is to face them. If that’s the case then I guess I should put down the pen and turn on the TV. But before I do, would you mind passing me that pillow…? I’ve got a feeling I might need it…
The wicked witch of the West has a lot to answer for. Her evil cackle, sickly green features, omniscient crystal ball, and ruthless henchmen make her the archetypal bogeywoman. But what makes her really scary is the fact that she inhabits the wonderland that is Oz, appearing in a cloud of smoke to spread terror and fear wherever and whenever she pleases. That the wicked witch can move freely between her mountainside castle and the forests, towns, and cities of Oz to wreak havoc and destruction represents monumental damage to the conventional structures of good and bad that children learn to live their young lives by. In a vibrant, colourful place like Oz, where your dreams and ambitions can be fulfilled with one man's say-so, undermining such fundamental principles regarding the balance between good and evil conjured up a number of worrying questions in my young mind.
If it can happen in a sublime place like Oz, can it happen in real life too? That question was (and to some extent still is) at the forefront of my young mind. As an adult it's much easier to pick up on ideas within the subtext of the plot, such as; the potential of the unconscious mind, the deceptive nature of surface appearances, and the potential of the human will to overcome great adversity. But the nagging fear that chipped away at my very existence focused upon the idea that evil could enter our lives at anytime and in any form. What makes things worse in the case of Oz is that this evil takes the form of a woman, a maternal figure who in a child's eyes is more likely to nurse and nurture than come cackling and screaming from a cloud of smoke.
Despite the weighty nature of the doubts churning through my young mind, I watched the videotape of the film so many times that the machine tore a hole in the celluloid. And that's the key to watching films that scare us; they scare us and yet we come back for more time and again, revealing the real power of horror cinema. Through our impulsive reactions to the horrific events or characters/creatures on screen, horror films tell us more about ourselves than we probably care to know, though this ability is nearly always overlooked, resulting in the commercial failure of some very good contemporary horror movies.
To many, the modern horror movie is usually a gore or sexfest, the perfect vehicle for getting a first date kiss at the back of the cinema (or more if you're lucky and your film is particularly shocking). But horror cinema can be about so much more than that, and as someone who is not afraid to admit their fear of haunted plots and grotesque characters, I believe that I am pretty well placed to argue the point.
Ever since my terrifying Technicolor epiphany some twenty years ago, I have hidden behind pillows, cushions, fingers (usually my own), DVD cases, and just about any other object that I can get between my eyes and the screen, when watching a horror film. That’s not to say that I don’t appreciate or enjoy horror as a genre. Nine times out of ten the trailers at the cinema that catch my eye (and capture my imagination) are promoting horror movies. If I could just get through a whole feature length film without missing half of the action, I’d probably have a near-encyclopaedic knowledge of horror stylistics.
This is why I’ve decided to address my horror film fears by watching and writing about them. They say that the best way to overcome your fears is to face them. If that’s the case then I guess I should put down the pen and turn on the TV. But before I do, would you mind passing me that pillow…? I’ve got a feeling I might need it…
