Why the hell would anyone like horror films?
Is there a stark, banal, horror of existence itself that demands the occasional escape? If so, why into fantastic worlds of more explicit nastiness? To help us feel a little better about our actual circumstances? Maybe.
Or maybe life is just so amazing we feel the need to fuck with it from time to time.
I never really liked horror. Although I guess I did have a fascination for ghost stories as a child, as many children do. But I never liked horror films.
Well, I did love The Thing. And Alien. And the Shining. And was a huge fan of Hammer Horrors (and Amicus, of course). But I didn’t really like horror films. Oh, and let’s not forget Tremors. And the Wicker Man.
Suddenly, it seemed like horror was a favourite genre of mine.
So how did I get here? Where is here? Hardly the position of horror expert. I don’t really know a whole lot about it at all. But, even when they’re bad (or even sometimes atrocious), I often find something to love in them, so I’d like to talk about them a little.
I doubt any of this will be in much of an order. I doubt it will make much sense. But then maybe you, if there is a you, stopped reading at “Why the hell would anyone like horror films?” so that’s probably ok.