The Struggles of Horror Movie Fatigue

Film fads have a sell-by-date and, like every other form of media, we grow tired of them if they're exceeded. Depending on your genre, this can often be referred to as "x fatigue": in simple terms, the state in which a genre is repeatedly beating a dead horse.

Jeremy Jahns, a YouTuber film critic who I wholeheartedly admire, recently reviewed The Curse of La Llorona (2019) and claimed that we may indeed be suffering from "horror fatigue" with this era of horror we are currently experiencing.

The Occult cycle

As with many film fads, they tend to circulate every decade or so in different forms. When I refer to the occult cycle, I mean specifically the time where horror movies sprung up in the late 60s to the early 80s, horror movies we love and respect in this day and age such as Rosemary's Baby (1968), The Exorcist (1973), The Omen (1976) and The Amityville Horror (1979). 

Cycles come and go. After the occult cycle, we had the era of 'torture porn', pioneered by directors such as James Wan with Saw (2004) and Eli Roth with Hostel (2005): we charter through these gore-infested waters every few years or so because audiences grow tired of seeing the same thing over and over again, especially if the quality of such starts slipping.

The Exorcist (1973)

There are (in my opinion) two/three types of fans:

1) The franchise fanboys. These fans are ride or die for their favourite film series, whether it be Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings, Fast and Furious, Final Destination etc etc. They will go and see these films regardless of whether they are good or not and they are the ones that make studios a lot of money. I suppose a contemporary example of such would be Marvel who, despite releasing some films that bombed (I use that term loosely) at the box office like Thor: The Dark World (2013), will always bring fans in.

2) The horror purists. This kind of fan is at the other end of the audience spectrum, increasingly difficult to please by today's standards of film making. They flock to arthouse, abstract and innovative horror, often casting their net further than the Western region of the world. 

3) The indifferent. I feel as though this is the category I fit into: I love horror that challenges the lazy formula we've fallen into in recent years but I also appreciate and enjoy franchises. I think both can co-exist, as long as people understand that franchises and innovative horror can be enjoyed separately. 

The current cycle

So, how is our current cycle relevant to this discussion? Well, what the horror genre is currently experiencing can arguably be described as a resurgence of the 70s/80s occult cycle, popularised back in the late noughties by Dead Silence (2007). Similarly to the superhero genre, horror revamped the way we look at the supernatural, paying more attention to jump scares, gothic elements and a rebranding of 'the big baddie'.

Think of the horror films from 2010 to 2013 and how iconic their villains are: Bughuul from Sinister (2012), the Lipstick-Face demon from the Insidious (2010-2018) franchise, the various items from The Conjuring (2013). All of these films were easily marketed because of their distinctive villain but they also preyed on the audience's insecurities, from demonic child possession to vengeful ghosts, aspects prevalent in the occult cycle.

The Conjuring (2013)

The Conjuring was definitely (in my opinion) the catalyst for the new occult movement: raking in $41m in its opening weekend, this film became a modern classic for many horror fans, making Wan's most popular film since Insidious. The occult cycle then took a breather for a couple of years until Wan returned in 2016 for a sequel, which many praised as being surprisingly better than the first.

Horror movie fatigue

Therein lies the issue. After the release of The Conjuring 2 (2016), everybody jumped on the bandwagon. Studios noted Wan's success and wanted to replicate that tenfold in order to increase profits, thus began the endless shit-stream of films that tried to hash the occult cycle formula out without paying any real attention to what made those films good in the first place: from what I can gather, it looks as though the studios thought if they created an iconic baddie and slapped it on the posters, then people would flock to the cinemas to see it.

And they did. The Nun (2018), regarded by critics as a complete flop and disservice to the Conjuring franchise, still managed to be the franchise's best opening weekend with $52m. But it became clear very quickly that either people loved The Nun because it's a franchise film or completely hated it due to the fact that it's...well, it's bad. 

Kevin Maher from The Times commented that "the scares are non-existent" and that "being pulled backwards along the floor in a darkened room hasn't been scary since Insidious in 2010". The Nun is a lot of cheap tactics and poorly performed dialogue wrapped up with a fantastically scary mascot on top, but people still saw it, because that's the only thing the mainstream industry want to offer at the moment.

The Nun (2018)

2016 ushered in the era of horror flops. After the success that Wan had brought in, the cash-grab for the occult cycle began, leading to films like Ouija: Origin of Evil (2016), Friend Request (2016), Annabelle: Creation (2017), Veronica (2017), Slender Man (2018) and recently with The Curse of La Llorona (2019). 

All of these films are somewhat commercially successful but that's purely due to the franchise fanboys. In essence, these films reflect lazy writing, cheap jumpscares, abhorrent use of sfx and a damning lack of forethought. They rely on fanbases to carry them because, at the end of the day, they're bad movies. Not just bad horror movies, but bad movies. 

Moving forward

What grinds my gears about horror movie fatigue is that people then refrain from seeking out horror as much, as if to suggest that there aren't any good horrors currently milling about in the cinesphere. I think of films like The Nun and then glance over lovingly at my copies of Get Out (2017) and Hereditary (2018) and wonder why people can't create movies with the same passion and care as Jordan Peele or Ari Aster. 

"Yeah but those kind of indie, socio-political horror films don't make money!" 

Absolute shite, my good sir. Get Out scored $33m and Hereditary had $13m to their names in the opening weekends: sure, that's not as much as films like The Conjuring but these films now have large followings because a) they know that those respective movies are examples of exemplary horror and b) they know they won't turn into cash-grab franchises. 

Insidious (2010)

Let's put it this way: Get Out performed well for an opening weekend but Peele's second film, Us (2019), more than doubled that on its opening weekend with $71m, making it the third-biggest R-rated horror opening of all time. And he didn't achieve that through tacky gimmicks: he did that by putting care and effort into his films, demonstrated by Get Out only a few years prior.

I'll end on a piece of unsolicited advice. Money makes the world go round, sure, but your franchise will die a sad death if that's your only motivation. It seems as if today's directors have forgotten what happened to 80s horror once they tried to pile up sequels: go and watch Hellraiser: Revelations (2011) and then get back to me.

- K

Film Reviews: A Love Letter to Raimi [Wither, 2012]

Wither (2012)

[Reader disclaimer: spoilers will be discussed].

This hidden gem of a film, lovingly reviewed by Fearnet network as "a legitimate love letter to The Evil Dead", is a Swedish horror from 2012 that follows the stereotypical group of young adults as they venture into the woods for a weekend of fun, sex and unexplained, supernatural horror. 

Wither (2012) immediately captured my attention from the get-go, subverting the generic and gendered tropes of the characters by swapping them; one of our main antagonists, Ida (played by Lisa Henni) is established as the dominant one in her relationship with Albin (played by Patrik Berg-Almkvisth). It had a promising start because, despite its cliches, Wither effectively coerced me into sympathising/liking the characters, a difficult feat for horror films nowadays. 

The other thing that ended up surprising me is the look of this film. For a b-movie, Wither has some sensational cinematography, cleverly framed shots and an enticing soundtrack. I found myself stopping at various points of the runtime to sit and appreciate just how nice everything looked: it had a great balance of realistic gore and aesthetically pleasing mise-en-scѐne.

However, with all films, it has its flaws: for me, this lies in the film's lack of narrative closure.

Despite portraying Ida as a strong character, one that you would presume to be the 'final girl' of the film, she also falls victim to the supernatural curse that haunts their home away from home. This leaves us in the last act with Albin having to mercy-kill her and, consequently, leaving him to be the last man standing: I don't think this works particularly well because although this demonstrates Albin finally facing his fears, it doesn't demonstrate what kind of man he is. All the way through the narrative, we grow to like and understand the motives behind most of the characters, but you never become too invested in Albin, therefore his 'victory' in surviving falls flat. 

This was also an issue with Gunnar (played by Johannes Brost), the helper/donor of the story. Gunnar commits suicide shortly before the last act of the film after being infected by the supernatural evil, a scene which hams up the emotive score and shows us flashbacks of his life before everything went to hell. But Gunnar is never fully explored as a character, limiting his life experience to a few flashbacks and a heavily-expositional monologue in a few scenes prior, meaning that although the film wants me to empathise with his death, I am literally incapable of doing so. 

Lastly, the antagonist of the film. The reason Wither is likened to The Evil Dead (1981) is because it borrows the formula of kids in a cabin, plagued by a supernatural monster which possesses them one by one, forcing them to turn and murder each other: this starts with Marie (played by Jessica Blomkvist) finding the demonic entity in the basement and becoming the first victim.

However, characters like Linnea (played by Amanda Renberg) and Ida become loose ends in the film's conclusion: we never see Linnea actually die on screen and it's only implied that Ida has died after being crushed. So, even though the entity is officially bumped off, we don't know whether the others are still alive or possessed, making the defeat of the antagonist slightly inconsequential and open to interpretation. I was left feeling like I had a lack of closure to the film, and I don't think that was a deliberate tactic to leave space for a sequel. 

A lot of online reviews berate this film for plagiarism but I disagree: there certainly is a difference between stealing and giving tribute, and I honestly believe this film is the latter, paying homage to the cheesy greatness of 80s slasher flicks. It had its flaws narrative-wise, but I had fun watching Wither, and now it certainly sits on my list of go-to horrors for when I have friends over.

Overall rating: 7/10

- K