this one’s for Dad, who always encouraged me to grow; the opener of doors.
thank you for sharing
Hallowe’en is perfect for slathering copious amounts of melted butter over a gigantic bowl of freshly popped popcorn, grabbing a cozy blanket, and diving into something scary. For me, that’s what the holiday is all about. If Christmas is an obligation, Hallowe’en is an excuse—for a lunar cycle each fall, I revel in the shocking, gory, and horrifying. There are no annoying carols to tune out, no awkward political conversations with your wacky uncle to avoid—it’s the most wonderful time of the year!
(Although, truth be told, this year’s binge has been a little lacklustre).
Why do we do it?
Why do we make and watch horror? Intentionally scaring ourselves seems completely illogical. Normally, fear is to be avoided. So why do we insist on slinking out to the razor’s edge and peering into the darkness?
I suppose we each have our reasons. As far as I can tell, my descent into horror each year satisfies deep-seated primal instincts, the ancient genetic legacy of my ancestors—and I don’t just mean the human ones. It’s undeniably exhilarating to feel your heart rate spike and the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Horror makes you feel alive in a way that most media can’t match. Experiencing a rush of fear—the kind that makes you want to ensure that your toes are tucked safely away from potential danger—is powerful and palpable. Whatever is happening biomechanically, it’s a heady mix. But it’s not just that—horror isn’t satisfying only because it elicits a psycho-physical response, although that’s definitely part of the appeal.
For many horror fans, the genre is special because it’s a fascinating barometer. More than any other genre, it puts its finger on the pulse of our society. It reveals cracks and crevices we’d prefer to ignore. It shows us the ugliest sides of ourselves, the shadow-selves deep within that we’d rather neglect than confront. And it works that way on a personal level, too. Horror is like a mirror. It has a way of showing you your true nature, the things you tuck far away from sight, concealed even from your closest loved ones. Perhaps concealed even from yourself. Horror leaves you naked by drawing out your fears and forcing you to acknowledge them.
I love horror…
… but it wasn’t love at first sight.
As a conclusion to unspooling’s Hallowe’en Special—unspooking!—what follows is the story of what I remember about watching a horror movie for the first time (and how it scared the absolute piss out of me).
After all these years, my memory is hazy, but let me tell you what I can of that dark, fateful night long ago…
I was about five years old and staying at my dad’s place for the weekend. (I can’t recall if it was close to Hallowe’en—my guess is not, but who knows). It was the mid-’90s, so we had probably eaten a box of Kraft Dinner for supper and had settled in to watch some TV (although it just as easily could have been Dino Bites or Zoodles—I had a very advanced palate, you see). I was probably camped on my orange and yellow Fisher-Price picnic bench, whose textured surface would eventually be worn smooth from years of use. I was probably wearing at least two pieces of clothing with a dinosaur printed on them.
Now, you’ve gotta remember, these were the cable days—nothing in this story will be as terrifying as the thought of having to endure unskippable ads and rigidly scheduled programming—so I don’t think we necessarily intended to watch a horror movie that night, it just happened to come on after whatever we had been watching ended.
And so it came to pass that I watched Gremlins, the 1984 horror comedy featuring a creature from Chinese folklore wreaking havoc in a New York suburb over the Christmas holidays. Did I mention that the film also features a slew of violent, bloody murders? Dad must have figured I was mature enough to handle a silly flick like Gremlins. Probably because when he was five he’d already started working, had had his first smoke, and had to walk uphill everywhere he went. I appreciate the confidence he had in my toughness, but it was sorely misplaced…
Whoops!
And it’s funny—he was usually so spot on when introducing me to media. He introduced me to books and movies that remain beloved favourites to this day—hell, I have an homage to The Dark Tower series by Stephen King (one of our shared favourites) tattooed on my arm—there’s an established track record of greatness, here. But on Gremlins? Whew… he was way off! He must have thought he was raising the second coming of Rooster Coburn. When he saw my eyes squint to barely perceptible slits, he must have thought it was because I possessed the grim, steely resolve of Clint Eastwood. Really, I was just trying to hide the tears before he could catch me crying. I didn’t say anything and I didn’t ask him to turn it off—I guess that’s what they mean when they say that you’re “scared stiff.” All I could do was sit there, horrified.
That’s right ladies and gentlemen, friends and neighbours: Gremlins scared the ever-loving shit out of me.
At the end of the weekend, when I returned to my mom’s place, I ended up sleeping in her bed for ???—a night? a week? I no longer recall—because I refused to face the terrors of the night by myself. Those wet-looking little bastards could be lurking anywhere. And if I closed my eyes—I wouldn’t even to see their glowing red eyes coming! For years, I wondered if one might be lying in wait in the toilet pipe, ready to strike while I was on the can taking care of business.
I had learned to fear the dark.
In that sense, a horror story quite literally deranged my life. I evaded, ignored, hid, and avoided. I grappled with rampant fear for years and it was not uncommon for that fear to get the better of me. Once the genie escaped the bottle, I had a hell of a time getting the bastard back in there.
Sometimes, before leaping into bed, I’d check the back of the closet and under the bed; just in case, I told myself. Just so I could be sure I was being silly. But I kept doing it. And, somehow, those shadows always had a way of looking just menacing enough once the lights were out to make me doubt myself.
If I came upstairs from the basement, I flew once the light switch clicked off. That beastie was going to have to be quick to get me, I’ll tell ya.
On occasion, paranoia would grip me while showering and I would feel compelled to check that the bathroom was unoccupied and that there wasn’t a shadow in front of the door, some masked killer waiting to get me at my most vulnerable.
It’s not just any kind of story that can impact you like that. Whether you love it or hate it, you must admit: horror has power.
Okay, so… maybe not a great call, in hindsight, Dad. But watching it again as an adult, I totally get it; Gremlins is not a scary movie. We’re not talking about The Exorcist, or Halloween, or The Shining, here. To be honest—Gremlins is actually kinda funny (in an extremely stupid, dated kind of way). At times, it descends into full-on slapstick. I never picked up on the comedic side of the film as a kid—probably a side-effect of the traumatization.
Yuck, yuck, yuck.
Watching it again as a “grown-up,” Gremlins barely elicited a reaction aside from a few begrudged chuckles. It’s strange, how things change. To my uninitiated eyes (and overactive imagination), Gremlins was the height of horror. Their malevolent demeanour… the vaguely wet look of their reptilian bodies… their nasty habit of violently murdering people… it unnerved me.
It’s funny; I must not have been the only kid to be scared shitless by that movie. According to legend, parental complaints about Gremlins, as well as the tonally dark Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, were the impetus behind the creation of the PG-13 rating. Go figure.
I look back at the fearful child I used to be and give a wry smile.
They say fear is a powerful teacher and I can attest to that. All those nightmares—thanks a lot, Dad!!—were worth it. Because I learned something about fear: it’s only as powerful as you choose to make it. Fear comes from within; you create it. You give it power and keep it running. But because it comes from within, you can also destroy it, sublimate it, or find some other way to alleviate its grip on your life. There’s power in realizing that.
Recognizing the role you play in creating discomfort and unease is crucial, even if it’s difficult to guarantee a better response in the next moment. It took me years to see how I was contributing to my own misery. Rather than confront a subject of my fear, I would run or avoid it, further empowering it. Do this enough and you become exhausted enough to try something else. It’s then, when you’ve run out of options and are at your wits end, that you finally wake up and break the cycle.
Fear is a powerful teacher.
It shows you that the courage you need to conquer it also comes from within. You might be the jailer but you’re also the key to freedom. The answer: is you.
Grappling with fear—especially fear of death—forces you to learn how to let go and to take yourself a little less seriously. If we’re all gonna end up dead anyway, maybe getting cut off isn’t the end of the world. And why not have a little extra ice cream, while we’re at it?
Realizing that life is short, and can end at any time (an absurd truth we must all swallow), forces you to appreciate how easy it is to take life for granted. If we’re wise, we’ll allow that truth to encourage us to resist getting lost in meaningless concerns and squabbles. So maybe, just maybe, whenever the thought of life’s beautiful brevity crosses your mind, you’ll remember to be just a little more present than before, a bit less self-absorbed. A better person. Less fearful. More forgiving. Unattached enough to allow Uncle Al to wolf down that shrimp appetizer you’ve been eyeing for the last five minutes… and not even resent him for it.
There… that wasn’t so scary now, was it? It even looks like most of you are still in one piece… and what do you know? The sun is rising! Which means it’s time for you to be going; I have a lot of creatures to feed.
Thank you for your visit, we do hope you’ll return next year. I’m afraid these attractions don’t draw crowds quite like they used to. Some nonsense about reason and rationality... Well, so long! And please watch yourself on those old stairs when you leave… they can be a real killer!
I hope you enjoyed the special as much as I loved putting it together for you this week. Now it’s time to try and convince k to watch The Shining for the first time. If she refuses, I’ll just follow her around the house croaking “red rum,” doing my best impression of Danny Torrance until she locks herself in the bathroom…
What could go wrong?
Happy Hallowe’en, everyone!
- c.d.
Fear that is the universal leveller. It can take the biggest person to the fetal position wailing in fear. And it can take the smallest person to the highest place of complete and abject terror. Literally frozen in fear.
Honestly the one that got me was our old friend Steve Silver Bullet, it’s old terribly dated and nothing but a werewolf movie .
Side note something to ponder at a later date. I knew the min I saw the priest! )sorry spoiler alert) Seems to be some sort of deference to the cloth or Bauer yet to the good and evil. Both which of course exist.
But I digress, the scene where the wolf is expose has all the great things which accompany a climactic cinema event. The music the suspenseful build up, the company of cast all drawn together to face their demon. For me the demon exploded out of an area I was duped into being a safe spot and I was shown graphically the errors of my ways. Jumped from one end of sectional to the other landing in my then boyfriends lap. Now my husband. But it worked just as our old buddy Steve wanted it to . As always hats off to Mr King
Tlc
Wait! What? There are movie ratings to guide parents!?!?
I sheepishly attest to the veracity of every part of this story.
In my adult mind Gremlins was not filed in Horror but the Kids/cartoon section.
Luckily ,Cody’s mom showed me the error of my ways (not the first time btw) and the error was not repeated.
Thanks for the shout-out! An honour!