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1 THE HORROR GENRE: FORM

AND FUNCTION

A hoard of shambling, decaying corpses hammer at the glass doors of a shopping mall. Three student filmmakers get lost in the woods searching for evidence of witchcraft. A teenage couple are slashed to death after sex. A man chokes on his dinner, writhing in pain as a creature tears its way out of his stomach. A woman’s eyelids flutter in a state of ecstasy as

an undead aristocrat punctures her neck with his fangs and drains her of blood. A scientist mutates into a disgusting half human-half fly creature after he teleports himself in a careless experiment. A journalist watches the ghostly images on a videotape and is doomed to die in seven days. A

doctor saws off his own foot in an attempt to escape from a maniacal torturer. A vampire tells a journalist about his life of existential angst. A gigantic, lizard-like, alien creature rampages through Manhattan. A rape victim castrates one of the men who assaulted her.

All these very different scenes come from films that have at one time or other been labelled as prime examples of the ‘horror genre’. Given that film genres are intended to be descriptive categories based on shared common traits, how can so many different scenes of horror be

usefully contained by either popular or academic conceptions of genre? Surely, it should be easy to define a genre by its distinctive set of char- acteristics, formulaic plots and identifiable visual style? Yet this is not

quite so true of horror, as evidenced by the sheer variety of characters, narrative events and styles in the above examples.1 Some are set in the

past, many in the present, one or two in the future. Several contain impossible supernatural monsters, others merely all-too-human killers, a small number improbable – yet physically possible – extra-terrestrial creatures, the odd exception may not – or may after all (hesitation being

the key) – even contain a monster. A fair number are extremely violent and/or gory, others rely on a creepy atmosphere. Some show the horror in explicit, close-up detail, a few show very, very little or merely hint at a horrible sight before cutting away. Many tell a story from the point of

view of the victims, others from that of the monster. Some are about revenge, several feature the struggle to survive, a few embrace death. It is not simply that there is a range of conventions that offers some degree of variation on a coherent, formulaic theme (as there are with

other genres such as westerns or action films), but that this genre is marked by a sheer diversity of conventions, plots and styles.

One explanation for the variation may lie in the fact that genres are never fixed. In fact, the whole concept of genre is problematic, and this is especially true when it comes to the horror genre. Individual films

may be shoehorned into marketable categories that can be sold to audiences, but those films may not exactly ‘fit’ the formula. Genres evolve, transforming and hybridizing over time in order to offer their viewers variations on a theme. Here perhaps is a key to the horror genre’s sheer

diversity: it has endured for so long, from the earliest years of cinema to the present day, and derives from so many different sources2 that it has fragmented into an extremely diverse set of sub-genres. Horror cinema’s longevity (it is now well over 100 years old, not to mention

the fact that horror stories are themselves as old as mankind), means that the genre has evolved and developed many branches and offshoots. Deciding on a classification as to what film (or kind of film) is (or isn’t) a horror film may not therefore be straightforward: what might be classed

as the essential conventions of horror to one generation may be very different to the next, and what one person considers to be the defining features of a horror film may be in total disagreement with another’s

2 HORROR

classification (Jancovich 2002b: 152). How, then, is it possible to dis- cuss the horror genre as a coherent group of films? This book approa-

ches that question by addressing its aesthetics, affects and audiences, and organizes this discussion around four further questions. First, in this chapter, what is horror? This looks at the traits and characteristics of the films that comprise horror cinema. Second, in the next chapter,

how does horror work? This considers the way technology has been used historically to create its affects and audience responses. In the third chapter, the question of why horror is pleasurable is considered in the context of a range of theoretical approaches. Fourth, in the final

chapter, the question of where and when is addressed to look at the ways horror sees and is seen by society.

In his discussion of Giallo,3 Gary Needham (2002) suggests that these Italian mystery, crime and psychological thrillers are less a genre than ‘a

conceptual category with highly moveable and permeable boundaries that shift around from year to year’. The same could well be said of the horror genre. So rather than thinking of it as a distinct, unified set of films with shared conventions, the genre should perhaps be more accurately thought of as an overlapping and evolving set of ‘conceptual

categories’ that are in a constant state of flux. Put more simply, horror is not one genre, but several; furthermore, as those various sub-genres – which Stephen Neale defines as specific traditions or groupings within genres (2000: 9) – change, so the boundaries of the genre as a whole shift.

It is therefore perhaps better to think of the horror genre as a collection of related, but often very different, categories. These can include:

� sub-genres that divide the whole along lines of plots, subject matter or types of monster;

� cycles, defined by Neale as groups of films made within a limited period of time which exploit the characteristics of a commercially successful film (2000: 9), that mean one type of film is extremely

popular for a short time, giving rise to many sequels and copies; � hybrids – defined by Rick Altman (1999: 43) as the cross-pollination

that occurs between genres to produce recombinant forms – borrowing

THE HORROR GENRE: FORM AND FUNCTION 3

conventions from one or more different genre(s) and mixing them up with horror genre conventions;

� styles associated with particular film studios (Universal in the USA in the 1930s, RKO again in the USA in the 1940s and Hammer in the UK in the 1960s) or filmmakers (the films of Canadian film- maker David Cronenberg made in the 1980s were collectively

labelled ‘body horror’4).

In addition, the diversity that arises from the large number of national horror cinemas can be considered. These have developed styles and

varieties of their own based on their particular cultural histories (while many genre critics focus on Hollywood cinema, genres are also funda- mental units of other national cinemas). The function of horror – to scare, shock, revolt or otherwise horrify the viewer – also means that

filmmakers are constantly pushing at the boundaries in order to invent new ways of arousing these emotions in their audiences (who over time will naturally learn what to expect from a specific type of horror, a process that may well lead to viewers becoming used to or even bored with the formula) and thus keep the scares coming. In all these ways,

notions of what the horror genre might be – or should be – are con- stantly shifting, creating new conceptual categories in order to keep on scaring the audience. We might, therefore, want to think about horror as an umbrella term encompassing several different sub-categories of

horror film, all united by their capacity to horrify. This, the principal responses that a horror film is designed to exploit, is thus a more crucial defining trait of the horror genre than any set of conventions, tropes or styles. Nevertheless, it is worth thinking about those different conceptual

categories that make up the horror genre. Some of the primary sub- categories or sub-genres of horror are presented in Table 1.1.

These sub-genre categories illustrate that a range of different forms can be identified within the genre (this taxonomy is merely intended as

examples rather than a definitive list of sub-genres – they could be broken down further, or other categories could be added). The descriptions in this table are also kept to a minimum, and are intended merely to suggest

4 HORROR

Ta bl e 1. 1 C at eg or ie s of ci ne m at ic ho rr or

T h e G o th ic

Fi lm

s ba se d o n cl as si c ta le s o f h o rr o r, o ft en

ad ap ti n g

p re -e xi st in g h o rr o r m on

st er s o r h o rr if yi n g cr ea tu re s

fr o m

n o ve ls an d m yt h o lo gy

D ra cu la , Fr an ke ns te in , Th e M um m y (a n d al l su bs eq u en t ve rs io n s o f th es e) ,

I W al ke d w ith

a Zo m bi e an d ot he r tra di tio na l vo od oo

zo m bi es ,

M as qu e of th e Re d D ea th , N ea r D ar k, In te rv ie w w ith

th e Va m pi re

Su p er n at u ra l, o cc u lt an d gh o st

fi lm

s

Fi lm

s th at

in vo lv e in te rv en ti o n s o f sp ir it s, gh o st s,

w it ch cr af t, th e d ev il , an d o th er

en ti ti es

in to

th e re al

w o rl d , o ft en

fe at u ri n g u n ca n n y el em

en ts

Th e H au nt in g, Ro se m ar y’ s Ba by , Kw ai da n, Th e Ex or ci st , Th e A m ity vi lle

H or ro r, Su sp iri a, Th e Si xt h Se ns e, Th e O th er s, Ri ng u, Th e G ru dg e,

Th e Ey e, Th e Bl ai r W itc h Pr oj ec t

P sy ch o lo gi ca l h o rr o r

Fi lm

s th at

ex p lo re

p sy ch o lo gi ca l st at es

an d p sy ch o se s,

in cl u d in g cr im

in al it y an d se ri al ki lle rs

C at Pe op le,

Ps yc ho , Pe ep in g To m , Ey es W ith ou t a Fa ce , Re pu lsi on , C ar rie ,

Th e H an d Th at Ro ck s th e C ra dl e, Th e Si len ce of th e La m bs

M o n st er

m o vi es

Fi lm

s th at

fe at u re

in va si o n s o f th e ev er yd ay

w o rl d by

n at u ra l

an d se cu la ra cr ea tu re s le ad in g to

d ea th

an d d es tr u ct io n

G od zil la , Th e Bi rd s, Th e Th in g fro m A no th er W or ld , A lie n, Th e H os t,

C lo ve rfi eld

THE HORROR GENRE: FORM AND FUNCTION 5

Sl as h er s

Fi lm

s p o rt ra yi n g gr o u p s o f te en ag er s m en ac ed

by a st al ke r,

se t in

d o m es ti c an d su bu rb an

sp ac es

fr eq u en te d by

yo u n g

p eo p le , th e o n ly su rv iv o r a fe m al e w h o (i n th e ea rl y cy cl es )

h as

n o t p ar ti ci p at ed

in u n d er ag e se x

Th e Te xa s C ha in Sa w M as sa cr e, H al lo w ee n, Fr id ay

th e 13 th , A N ig ht m ar e

on El m St re et , Sc re am , I Kn ow

W ha t Yo u D id La st Su m m er,

C he rr y Fa lls ,

Th e Fa cu lty

B o d y h o rr o r, sp la tt er

an d go re

fi lm

s (i n cl u d in g p o st m o d er n zo m b ie s)

Fi lm

s th at

ex p lo re

ab je ct io n an d d is gu st o f th e h u m an

bo d y,

o ft en

in vo lv in g m u ta ti o n , d is ea se , o r ab er ra n t an d fe ti sh is ti c

be h av io u r (f o r ex am

p le ca n n ib al is m

o r sa d o -m

as o ch is m )

Th e Br oo d, V id eo dr om e, Th e Fl y (a n d o th er

fi lm

s by

D av id

C ro n en be rg ),

Th e Th in g, Te ts uo , N ig ht of th e Li vi ng

D ea d, Ev il D ea d, H ell ra ise r,

D aw n of th e D ea d, Sh au n of th e D ea d, Re sid en t Ev il, Th e H ow lin g

E x p lo it at io n ci n em

a, vi d eo

n as ti es

o r o th er

fo rm

s o f ex p li ci tl y vi o le n t fi lm

s

Fi lm

s fo cu se d o n ex tr em

e o r ta bo o su bj ec ts , in cl u di n g vi ol en ce

an d to rt u re , o th er

co n tr o ve rs ia l su bj ec t m at te r su ch

as N az i

d ea th

ca m p s, ra p e an d o th er

se xu al as sa u lt s u p o n w o m en

I Sp it on

Yo ur G ra ve , La st H ou se on

th e Le ft,

H en ry : Po rt ra it of a Se ria l

Ki lle r, M an

Bi te s D og , H os te l, Sa w,

A ud iti on , Ic hi th e Ki lle r, Th e D ev il’ s

Re jec ts , Ir ré ve rs ib le

a A n d re w T u d o r (1 9 8 9 : 8 ) u se s th e te rm

to d is ti n gu is h cr ea tu re s w h ic h ar e fe as ib le ac co rd in g to

th e la w s o f n at u re

(e xt ra -t er re st ri al li fe m ay

w el l

be p o ss ib le , ev en

if w e co n si d er

it u n li ke ly ) fr om

su p er n at u ra l cr ea tu re s w h ic h w e kn ow

ca n n o t ex is t w it h in

th e n at u ra l o rd er

(s u ch

as va m p ir es ,

zo m bi es

an d gh o st s) .

6 HORROR

major conventions or plot directions, in order to avoid setting out pre- scriptive lists of conventions and thus ensure that these groupings remain

relatively open and flexible. The same reservation applies to the examples of films given; these are suggestions rather than definitive lists. These categories are presented in order to illustrate the ways in which con- ceptions of the horror genre change or ways in which the boundaries

shift. Looking at the examples given, it can be seen that some forms of horror might be more popular at certain times (for example, the classic Gothic horrors were more prevalent in the 1930s, whereas slasher films were dominant in the 1980s), some might be refreshed with a new cycle

after a period of decline (the Gothic’s resurgence in Hammer films from the UK in the 1950s and 1960s or the reworking of the teen horror films in the neo-slashers of the 1990s), some might be representative of different national cinemas (the supernatural has been a strong form

in Japanese horror since the 1950s), and a few might be linked with horror by association rather than definitive style (psychological thrillers and some of the video nasties). On top of this, elements of horror might also be present in films that are not marketed as horror – Steven Schneider (2004a) employs the useful term ‘cinematic horror’. Such

instances of cinematic horror might allow viewers who are not usually addressed by horror cinema (since many horror films are aimed at the 18–24-year-old demographic and the typical horror fan is represented as male, this might include female, older, and high-brow audience seg-

ments) with a similar viewing experience (being scared) without them having to make overt their taste for horror. Furthermore, categories may overlap – Carrie might just as easily be placed in the supernatural/occult category and The Others or The Blair Witch Project classed as Gothic, and

films may also be generic hybrids (Alien is a science fiction-horror cross, which in some respects is an old dark house movie set in space; there are also any number of horror-comedies such as Shaun of the Dead, horror-westerns such as Near Dark, and Resident Evil has elements from science fiction but

might also be classed as a computer game movie, and so forth). What is clear from this is that the longevity of horror cinema, the

sheer diversity of horror film subgenres and styles, the large numbers of

THE HORROR GENRE: FORM AND FUNCTION 7

generic hybrids, and the various national horror film cycles that have developed mean that horror is an extremely complex genre. Any

attempt at producing a thorough overview of the genre covering all the styles in all of the historical and national cycles that have emerged since the beginnings of cinema would result in an extremely lengthy and convoluted account. This means it is nigh on impossible to provide a

brief, comprehensive, and inclusive capsule definition of the genre that includes all the forms of horror that have arisen throughout its long history. Falling back on an overly-generalized or reductive set of generic conventions would exclude too many films or cycles which might in

fact be widely considered to belong to the category ‘horror’. On the other hand, trying to include every single generic characteristic would soon lead to over-complexity and potential contradictions. What is required, is a loose, rather than a concrete, definition of horror cinema.

Nevertheless, before discussing horror cinema further, it is useful to engage with accounts of what is commonly considered as horror, even though we might want to put such accounts to one side in the long run. Engaging with genre theory in this way is only intended to serve as a broad introduction to horror cinema and a context for further dis-

cussion of particular subgenres or styles. To begin, it is appropriate to consider why genres are important to

the film industry and why the horror genre in particular has been so prevalent and popular. Horror is highly profitable for both the main-

stream and the independent, low-budget or cult sectors of the industry. A few examples illustrate the economic significance of horror films.5

The Exorcist (the leading film in the cycle of 1970s mainstream occult cinema) is among the most successful of all horror films. It was made

for $12 million in 1973 and took $193 million from its domestic box office on initial release. With several re-releases, it has taken a world- wide lifetime gross of over $441 million. More recently, Scream 2 (with a production budget of $24 million) took $33 million in its opening

weekend in 1992, at that point, the highest for a December release. In total to date, Scream 2 has taken over $101 million in domestic and over $172 million in worldwide lifetime grosses. In the independent, low-

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budget sector, The Evil Dead cost an estimated $350,000 to make, and grossed over $2 million in the USA on its initial release in 1983. After

a re-release in 2005, The Evil Dead has taken $11 million worldwide. Another low-budget horror film, The Blair Witch Project was made for $60,000 (although quoted figures vary according to whether the costs of the marketing website are included, see Highley and Weinstock

2004: 16) and has taken a total of almost $141 million in domestic sales and almost $249 million internationally. Of course, there are horror films that are not as successful in terms of box office takings or indeed have flopped, but these examples illustrate that horror films are

lucrative economic units for studios and independent filmmakers alike. Genres are also, by their very nature, fundamental to the mainstream

film industries (within Hollywood and without); they are units around which production and exhibition are organized. Barry Keith Grant

(1986: ix) defines genre movies as ‘those commercial feature films which, through repetition and variation, tell familiar stories with familiar characters in familiar situations’. Such films, he says, ‘have been exceptionally significant in establishing the popular sense of cinema as a cultural and economic institution’. According to Grant, genre cinema is

thus created by ‘an industrial model based on mass production’. Pro- duction practices within the mainstream film industry (especially in the classical Hollywood era) tend to be centred around specializations, with studios, filmmakers, effects technicians and actors all becoming asso-

ciated with particular types of film. At the consumption end of the industrial process, viewers tend to have particular tastes and want to see the kinds of films that they know they will enjoy, so genres have become a major selling point in the marketing and exhibition of films.

However, such specialization in terms of production practice is common across genres, and there is no reason why this alone would explain horror’s endurance. As much as there are large audiences for horror, it is not the only genre in which the general public is interested.

Production and consumption contexts are central to the development of genres in general, not for any one genre in particular. In any case, horror has tended to be regarded as somewhat disreputable and it is

THE HORROR GENRE: FORM AND FUNCTION 9

often independent filmmakers and the smaller or less powerful studios that have specialized in horror. This does, in effect, mean that horror is

successful outwith the mainstream film industry to a greater or lesser extent at different times. There ought therefore to be other more spe- cific reasons that can help explain why horror – as one of several pop- ular genres that have become essential economic units to many national

film industries – has endured. Other productive and well-loved genres have waxed and waned

according to public preferences and cultural trends; genres that were once well established (westerns and musicals, for example) have declined to

be replaced by others (action films and teen comedies, for instance) that better suit contemporary tastes. In contrast, despite periods of threa- tened (or media proclaimed) stagnation and decline, horror cinema has invariably been revitalized by new forms of the horror film, or varia-

tions on existing forms of horror cinema, sometimes combined with elements of other genres, often provided by low-budget, independent or international crossover hits. Drawing on the Russian Formalists theory of genre development, Neale (2000: 213) explains that these kinds of displacements in the genre occur through the acceptance (or ‘canon-

isation’) of a ‘junior branch’ that contributes, via some new artistic direction, to the process by which genres are contested and changed. On this level of course, horror’s longevity is then simply explained by the artistic expansion of the conceptual categories. If horror cinema is a

collection of evolving sub-genres and cycles, new forms can simply be added into the whole without destabilizing the genre as a whole. The many different forms of horror (sub-genres, cycles and hybrids) can also satisfy the tastes and preferences of various audience segments, thus

increasing the range of horror films on offer and increasing audiences overall. But the question still remains, why should horror be an excep- tion in defying its often-prophesied decline and continuing to flourish (even if on the fringes of or outside of the mainstream film industry)?

All films to a greater or lesser extent reflect the conditions existing at the time and place in which they were made. Genre films, because they are made as economic ‘units’ that rely on formulaic narratives that are

10 HORROR

especially vulnerable to reflecting a dominant ideology, are more likely to be barometers of the cultural moment. They meaningfully address

contemporary issues and reflect cultural, social or political trends. By way of illustration, this is an argument that can be used to explain the decline of the western – the ideologies that were encoded in westerns reflected myths about the taming of the American wilderness and

the role of the lone hero in those myths. As America moved into the postmodern period after the Second World War, the need for that myth declined – and so did the genre. Successful westerns that were made after this time were more likely to reflect the rewriting of those myths

to incorporate the histories of the Mexicans (A Fistful of Dollars), Native Americans (Dances with Wolves), African-Americans (Posse), and women (The Ballad of Little Jo), or reconceptualize the traditional cowboy (Unfor- given), though the latter examples tend to be standalone films rather

than becoming a junior branch which revitalizes the genre. Horror cinema, on the other hand, has always appeared to be rather

more flexible and adaptable in its encompassing of the cultural moment, giving scope for filmmakers to encode changing socio-cultural concerns with ease. In fact, since fear is central to horror cinema, issues

such as social upheaval, anxieties about natural and manmade disasters, conflicts and wars, crime and violence, can all contribute to the genre’s continuation. Since horror films tap into the cultural moment by encoding the anxieties of the moment into their depictions of mon-

strosity, there is an endless flow of material to ‘inspire’ horror film- makers. Horror is thus a genre that is always ready to address the fears of the audience, these being fuelled by events and concerns on an international and national level. In this way, horror cinema is extremely

flexible, and able to adapt easily to various periods of cultural change and differences across national boundaries. This can also explain his- torical forms of horror cinema, for example, the science fiction-horror hybrids of the 1950s (which encoded the oppositional politics of the

Cold War), the slasher film cycle (reflecting social policies, class and the failure of social responsibility in the era of Reaganomics), and postmodern zombie films (social and political alienation in the

THE HORROR GENRE: FORM AND FUNCTION 11

consumer society). Such films are thus cathartic, allowing for these anxieties and other negative emotions towards the world or the society

one inhabits to be released safely (a ‘bounded experience of terror’ according to Pinedo 1997: 41). And, of course, horror cinema can also represent more personal fears and phobias, which are ever present, and thus act to confront or release those fears on a psychological as well as a

social level. We can thus see horror cinema as fulfilling a basic human need – for society and for the individual.

Yet if horror cinema is ideally suited to address issues of anxiety, the fact that it represents these anxieties as monstrous entities that commit

acts of violence or disrupt the social order also imbues it with a taboo status. A further aspect of the genre’s longevity may, then, be due to the fact that the depiction of such horrors is often regarded as being – at worst – dangerous and – at best – somewhat disreputable. Horror

cinema’s ‘outsider’ status derives largely from the fact that (unlike many genres which are designed as pleasurable escapist entertainment) it is designed to elicit negative emotions from its viewers – something that does put many people off. While its viewers do love to watch horror cinema and enjoy being vicariously scared in the safety of the cinema or

living room, many people are put off or find such films distasteful. While there are horror fans who love the more extreme forms of horror, these films do often gain a lot of negative publicity – which further reinforces the low cultural standing of horror cinema generally.

And if in terms of reflecting the cultural moment, horror films deal on an unconscious level with fears of violence by depicting acts of vio- lence, might they not be easily misjudged for influencing their viewers and contributing to the violence in society? This is obviously a difficult

question to answer, tied up as it is with the mass media effects debate: do horror and other violent films merely reflect violence in society or do they trigger it? Whatever the points in this debate are, the whole genre is potentially tainted. It has therefore been denigrated or ignored,

never quite wholly acceptable, and relegated to areas of low budget, independent production – and even when it is embraced by the main- stream (clearly it is a profitable genre and since profit is the main

12 HORROR

driving force of the mainstream film industry, big budget, mainstream horror films are produced), it can never quite be ‘tamed’ and it con-

tinues to exist on the margins when it has gone out of fashion (where it is freer to confront taboos or contentious issues). As some sort of cultural ‘other’, horror flourishes thanks to its status as ‘forbidden fruit’. This is not an inconsequential point, considering that horror films are

particularly popular among younger audiences and underage teens are very likely to regard seeing a higher rated horror film as a rite of pas- sage. Horror cinema’s continued success therefore depends to some extent on it remaining taboo.

In these different ways, horror cinema acquires cultural longevity both within mainstream cinema and as cult, low-brow or trash cinema on the fringes of film culture. In the wider popular culture, horror also has strong and long-established traditions in the fields of the arts and

entertainment. It is a productive and persistent genre within television, literature, comic books and the theatre. For example, horror novels and short stories are, and have been for some considerable time, an extre- mely popular literary genre (since the eighteenth century at least, but more recently with writers such as Stephen King, Clive Barker, Anne

Rice and Joyce Carol Oates). Horror has also been a significant form of television drama from the early days of The Twilight Zone and Quatermass serials through to The X-Files, Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Supernatural in recent years. Horror cinema is thus often ‘presold’ by dint of its

popularity and common cultural currency in other forms (fans of horror film are also likely to consume it in these other media). And since horror itself has a basis in older forms of storytelling such as myth and folklore, it is apparent that horror fiction generally (in whatever

medium) might fulfill some necessary psychological or social function, being an essential dimension, for many individuals, of the ‘human condition’. The logical conclusion, then, is that this human need is also key to explaining the genre’s enduring qualities. Despite the fact that

horror is variously depicted as trash culture, suitable viewing only for hormone-ridden teens, or as a dangerous social problem inciting viewers to acts of actual violence, filmmakers have continued to be

THE HORROR GENRE: FORM AND FUNCTION 13

attracted to the genre across the globe and audiences have flocked to their films to be – by choice – scared, grossed out, transfixed, amused

and even sexually aroused. In the light of this success (the genre’s popularity, reach, complexity

and economic viability, as well as its ability to reflect the anxieties of the cultural moment), it seems that horror cinema is an important context

for studying genre theory as well as cinematic horror in its own right.

GENRE THEORY AND THE COMPLEXITIES OF HORROR CINEMA

Having established that horror cinema is an extremely heterogeneous collection of films, it seems appropriate to consider what the terms

‘genre’ and ‘horror genre’ might mean, not simply in terms of locating films within a genre, but also in terms of what the methodological and theoretical contexts of the classification process itself might imply about such terms. Underlying this question, of course, is what is meant by the term ‘genre’ itself within the contexts of film production, marketing,

consumption and reception, as well as academic analysis and film cri- ticism. The term is an easy enough one to grasp (it simply means type), but the notions of what distinguishes one genre from another or what the functions of genres might be (particularly as it has been widely

considered within academic debate) is more complex. The precise nature of genre is slippery. Some genres – like westerns – are rather more homogenous and have somewhat more distinct conventions and boundaries than horror, but regardless of whether any single genre is

more or less homogenous or markedly heterogeneous, the concept of genre as a taxonomy is not as straightforward as might at first appear.

Take the seemingly straightforward question of classification for example. The very term ‘genre’ suggests that there are groups of films

that have a typology in common. The relatively straightforward approach of a typology suggests that generic conventions such as iconography (characters, costumes, props, settings), narrative (plots, subject matter,

14 HORROR

themes), or style (cinematographic features, musical cues) can be ana- lysed in order to identify a film as belonging to a particular genre. Most

viewers, media critics and film industry personnel refer to the horror genre, or to a film as being a horror film, in a relatively straightforward way. Despite horror cinema being a set of subgenres within shifting boundaries, it is still apparently easy enough to recognize a horror film

when one sees one, regardless of whether it is a slasher, zombie, or supernatural film. It may seem intuitive, but at the same time this apparent ease in applying a label may mask the fact that people are not always clear about what types of films they categorize as horror or what

features they might be basing such a categorization on. Certainly there will not always be any clear consensus on this. Applying a label to a film may involve subjective decisions, possibly based on prior opinion or expectations, and this complicates the whole notion of genres as dis-

tinct categories. Disagreements may well arise as to whether a film can be considered a horror film. As Mark Jancovich (2002b) has outlined, differences of opinion certainly exist over whether The Silence of the Lambs can be classed as a horror film, with different groups of viewers making contradictory classifications. Indeed, opinions can sometimes be very

strong: on the bloodydisgusting.com forum one post reads ‘Silence of the Lambs is a thriller, you dickheads!’ in response to the suggestion that it is an example of a horror film winning mainstream film awards (it won five Academy Awards in 1992).

Differences of opinion in classifying a film may also arise depending on whether a film ‘works’ as horror (that is, is it scary and therefore worthy of the label?). Is Bram Stoker’s Dracula, for example, a horror film, or is it perhaps a Gothic Romance with a Byronic monster who is

conflicted rather than wholly evil and who is sexually appealing to female characters and female audience members alike? Can it even be classed as a horror film, when in many people’s opinions it is not a scary film? As Joyce Woolridge reminds us when discussing Coppola’s film6:

‘the sensitive lover that Dracula had been for most of the film in his velvet jackets and blue spectacles would terrify no one’. Yet the film still fits a typology of horror: a supernatural monster, female victims,

THE HORROR GENRE: FORM AND FUNCTION 15

ineffectual male characters, a final girl, and the religious and sexual iconography associated with vampire films including crosses, holy

water, garlic, and stakes. In particular, the linking of sex and death may well instil typically horror-related responses in some viewers, suggest- ing perhaps that different conceptions of the horror genre exist amongst different sections of the audience (or indeed, as Jancovich’s

discussion suggests, between audiences and academics). Such instances of divergent classifications illustrate that there are other factors besides typological conventions involved in making genre classifications. With respect to the horror genre, one factor involved in defining the genre

should perhaps be the way the films work on their audiences to create particular emotional responses. Thus, any film that shocked, scared, frightened, terrified, horrified, sickened, or disgusted, or which made the viewer shiver, get the goosebumps, shudder, tremble, jump, gasp or

scream in fear could be classified as horror. Yet this then raises a further question about what this means when a film that is clearly not a horror film is horrifying in ways that make the audience experience one or more of these responses, at least for a particular audience segment. Examples of horrifying non-horror films could be Blue Velvet, Fatal Attrac-

tion, The Wizard of Oz, or even The War Game, a documentary about the results of a nuclear war (all of which are included in Channel 4’s 100 Scary Moments list7). Accounts of genre should not just engage with film form, then, but with function and intended audience as well (and

in this respect the marketing of films and the construction of audience expectations, together with the receptions of genre films, as well as aspects of the texts themselves, are all important considerations in analyzing the horror genre).

It is worthwhile exploring some of the theoretical approaches to genre in order to further illustrate how the whole notion of a horror genre might be interrogated. Stam (2000: 14) sums up some of the questions that concern genre theorists:

Are genres really ‘out there’ in the world, or are they merely the con-

structions of analysts? Is there a finite taxonomy of genres or are they

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in principle infinite? Are genres timeless Platonic essences or

ephemeral, time-bound entities? Are genres culture-bound or trans-

cultural? Does the term ‘melodrama’ have the same meaning in Brit-

ain, France, Egypt, and Mexico? Should genre analysis be descriptive

or proscriptive?

To take Stam’s final question first, a descriptive analysis would tell us what a horror film is. Yet being a heterogeneous collection of conceptual categories, no easy description is forthcoming. A proscriptive analysis would tell us what it is not. But defining a distinct and sharp boundary to

the genre is not helpful either as the boundary is likely to shift. Both analytical approaches are thus problematical, but it is nevertheless worth exploring the way theorists have attempted to resolve this question.

Edward Buscombe (1970) engages with the idea that genre films

have certain aesthetic characteristics – an iconography, in other words, a set of visual conventions comprising the common objects, figures and actions in the films. Indeed this idea has been widely applied in intro- ductions to genre theory. It is true that some genres are easily described and thus recognizable by their narrative and stylistic conventions, as

well as their iconographies. The western for example, appears to be identifiable quite clearly by a very specific locale or setting (in terms of landscape and historical period), as well as a fairly well-defined range of characters, props and costumes, and a distinctive set of narrative char-

acteristics and themes. Gangster films and war films are somewhat similar to this in their (seemingly) well-defined and fairly static icono- graphies, even when set in different time periods or locales. This seeming ease of descriptive analysis may well be one of the main rea-

sons why westerns and gangster films formed the subject of early engagements in genre theory such as those by Buscombe, Will Wright (1975) and Thomas Schatz (1981). But the approaches made in these accounts raise a number of concerns. Having described a genre, what

happens when that genre evolves? Schatz, for example, discusses (1981: 15) what he calls the static elements of the genre (the generally agreed- upon traits such as images and themes), but also emphasizes that genres

THE HORROR GENRE: FORM AND FUNCTION 17

must in addition have dynamic elements (they must also contain innovation) – though these must be balanced in order to keep meeting

audience expectations for the genre. However, since no genre is ever completely static for any significant

period of time (a horror film from the 1930s bears few points of resemblance to a horror film from the 1940s – let alone the 1980s),

the notion of a typology is thus problematized by the way genres shift over time. As Christine Gledhill (2007: 64) points out genres are not discrete systems with a fixed list of characteristics. It must also be noted that not all genres are easily defined by iconography alone (as is clear

with horror cinema). Other generic groupings, as David Bordwell (1989: 148) lists them, might be identified by mode (animation, doc- umentary), style (film noir, German Expressionism) or audience (teen comedies, family films). Some genres are typified by the emotions they

seek to create (comedy, thrillers, horror), or by format including the placing of set pieces or spectacles within the plot – this can be song and dance routines in the musical, or action and special effects sequences in the action film or disaster movie. What is interesting here in terms of problematizing genre, is that many of these groupings contain films

that might also be accepted as horror: The Rocky Horror Picture Show (musical), The Mummy (action), Vampire Hunter D (animation), Nosferatu (German Expressionism), for example.

These points link to the reservations Stam raises regarding the tax-

onomy of genres being finite or infinite. If there are many overlaps between genres, leading to hybridity and exchange, and new variations are constantly being produced, how can the taxonomy of genres be finite? Aren’t there a potentially infinite number of genres and generic

crossovers? And since generic hybridity is so pervasive, any number of films that can ostensibly be classed as horror can be situated in terms of their specific combinations of genres. Near Dark is a modern-day western with vampires, for example. Alien is an old-dark house movie set in

space; Resident Evil a computer game adaptation that combines gameplay- style cut scenes with conventions of science fiction and horror. Shaun of the Dead is in the tradition of British comedy but is also a proficient

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zombie film, as it says on the poster (Figure 1.1) that otherwise con- tains all the signifiers of the postmodern zombie with the grabbing

hands of the zombie hoard and besieged heroes with improvised weapons: ‘A Romantic Comedy. With Zombies’. And these films are not at all unusual in their mixing of generic features. In fact, genre hybrids have always been a factor in the evolution and transformation of genres,

and John Hill (1998: 100) lists generic hybridity as one of the key features of postmodern cinema – so we might expect genre hybrids to be widespread. This would also suggest that genres are changeable. Although the horror genre appears to be timeless, the conceptual cate-

gories that make up the genre are linked very much to a particular historical moment and can indeed be ephemeral. Certainly some genres do go through peaks and troughs (the rise and decline of musicals and westerns for example that for a time fill a socio-political niche and then

decline as the moment passes). There may well be links with the peaks and troughs of different kinds of horror film in response to social anxieties about violence, family breakdown, the war on terror, climate change, and so forth.

PROBLEMS WITH GENRE AND THE SLASHER CYCLE

Stam raises other questions that genre theory engages with, but these will be considered later. Before then, it is worth considering the changing nature of the horror genre and the difficulties in defining it. The examples in this discussion are drawn from the original cycle of slasher

films; there is no particular reason for choosing the slasher except that the original cycle consists of a relatively contained set of films produced over a short period of time. Dika (1990) delineates the peak of the slasher film to be the period between 1978 and 1981, though it is

perhaps worth extending that to the mid-1980s (the cycle has a long tail with seemingly endless sequels through to the 1990s and a resurgence in the wake of Scream, of course, but it is the main cycle when the subgenre

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