Feature Image Credit: DeviantArt
Halloween may still be a few months off, but is there ever a bad time to re-visit old classics?
I confess that the horror genre, in its many forms, is something of a morbid fascination for me. I am strangely drawn to the often pitch black nature of their story lines. I can never seem to tear my eyes away from the grotesque imagery that frequently fills the screen. It is a struggle for me to explain to you why this is so. These are purely emotional reactions that no explanation could do any justice.
It is for this reason, I surmise, that horror films remain so popular. The greatest media of entertainment are those that can tap into our most primal thoughts, and elicit strong emotional reactions from us. By their nature, horror films are designed to expose cinema goers to what they fear most. Without doubt, there is no emotion stronger, besides love, than fear.
In my ever so humble opinion, no decade has produced a higher number of consistently competent horror films before, or since, the 1970s. Throughout this article, I intend to analyse two of the best offerings from this ten year period — Halloween and The Omen — to explain why there is simply no horror like 70s horror, like no horror I know.
So, feel free to read on as you have been so generously granted access all areas.
This Is Halloween
In 1978, John Carpenter crafted a cinematic horror experience that positioned expertly engineered suspense at the forefront. Throughout the film, the now-iconic villain of the piece, Michael Myers, is subtlety portrayed as an ever-present and omniscient threat. This is achieved via two cinematic avenues.
Firstly, eagle-eyed viewers can spot him positioned in the background of certain scenes, shrouded in ominous shadow. Consequently, we must suffer the knowledge that this sadistic killer is always watching his victims from afar, while they remain unaware. As we are powerless to do anything, fear grips us.
Secondly, there are occasions where we ourselves are positioned as Michael by way of mobile point of view shots. During these shots, we are forced to observe his soon-to-be victims as the camera gains on them. Again, all control is taken from us as we await the inevitable with our hearts well and truly in our throats. The voyeuristic nature of these shots are unnerving because we know that we have no right to peer into the private lives of others without their knowing.
The icing atop this fabulously frightening cake, however, is the sparing use of musical accompaniments. In those moments where a score is absent, our ears become sensitive to all the diegetic sounds. These may include a pot smashing, a dog barking, or a certain masked killer breathing through the latex that obscures a face marred with malicious intent.
For me, this is reminiscent of when I find myself alone during a dark, quiet evening. Every little sound is an explosion in my ear drums and, although each one is harmless, my brain cannot help but try and convince me that at least one bears sinister connotations.
Good Omens
Last year, I journeyed to my local multiplex to witness the much maligned sequel to 2017’s much praised adaptation of the Stephen King horror novel, IT. While it desperately attempted to grip me with deafening orchestration, exaggerated art direction, and ominous chiaroscuro lighting, it lacked that special something: atmosphere.
Instead of overwhelming me by exerting excessive effort into appearing overtly horrifying, The Omen simply focuses on crafting a genuinely tense, terrifying, and palpable atmosphere. This is achieved by way of the subtly strange behaviours viewers identify in the on-screen characters throughout the film.
For example, one need only become subject to the cold, empty, and lifeless stare that the devil child Damien Thorn deals as a default expression to receive a chill down their spine. Further, each animal that the devil child encounters becomes highly agitated at the very sight of him. Since we are unable to fully comprehend why, it is natural to fear this behaviour. After all, we are wired to fear all that we do not understand.
We All Fly Up Here
One scene in The Omen, I believe, perfectly encapsulates what the film is about. Damien’s Nanny becomes consumed by an unknown influence, which prompts her to throw herself from the top of the Thorn Estate, where she is then hung to death.
Since the precise nature of this woman’s possession is not made clear to us, this scene taps into the fear of the unknown I discussed previously. Often, we can rationalise what we can understand but, as we cannot understand this, we cannot rationalise this behaviour, and so naturally fear it.
Furthermore, before she flings herself from the building, she smiles from ear-to-ear before claiming that it is all for Damien. This contrasts heavily with the disturbing imagery to follow. In regard to that imagery, it successfully disturbs audiences without the need for excessive gore. Instead, the very image of a woman hanging from a taut rope is all we are permitted to see, and it is all we need to see. It is raw. It is real. It is something you simply cannot look away from, even though you desperately want to.
Finally, this masterful scene does away with a heavy-handed score that informs us of how scared we should be. In place of a musical sting, it is the smashing of glass, penetrated by the dead weight of a human body, that pierces our hearts. It is the screams of children who have just been robbed of their innocence that prompts these same hearts to pump at an accelerated rate. It is the straining sounds of a rope that is forced to support the neck of a deceased woman that wrenches our very souls.
Simple horror filmmaking at its most effective.
Putting Demons to Rest
Ultimately, the horror classics of the 1970s work so well because they understand how to elicit that overpowering emotion of fear in the viewer. Horror is about subtlety. Those distant sounds that may be harmless, but may also herald something more sinister. Those shadows in the corner that take on frightening forms. Those odd quirks that others possess, which we simply cannot understand.
Oftentimes, it is not what we witness on the surface that affects us so deeply, but what lies hidden underneath. So why not switch off the lights, clutch your crucifix tightly, and settle in with some 70s fright fests.
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