Editorials
‘The Evil Dead’: A Meditation on the Five Elements of Horror
The Evil Dead (1981) is an undisputed horror classic. Whether it’s actually scary, however, is another topic. Of course, what makes a movie scary is subjective. Keeping that in mind, I will focus on some basic tenets of successful horror, inspired by Tim Waggoner’s writing craft book Writing in the Dark: Dread, Terror, Horror, Shock, and Disgust. Waggoner likens these emotional states to the primary colors of an artist’s palette in that they all have their place and benefit from being blended together. But what do all these capitalized terms mean?
The Evil Dead (1981) is an undisputed horror classic. Whether it’s actually scary, however, is another topic. Of course, what makes a movie scary is subjective. Keeping that in mind, I will focus on some basic tenets of successful horror, inspired by Tim Waggoner’s writing craft book Writing in the Dark: Dread, Terror, Horror, Shock, and Disgust. Waggoner likens these emotional states to the primary colors of an artist’s palette in that they all have their place and benefit from being blended together. But what do all these capitalized terms mean?
Is The Evil Dead a Horror Movie?
I’ll explain each state very briefly. Dread is the feeling of an unknown threat building and building, getting closer and closer. Terror is “the emotional and intellectual reaction to a threat,” which is a bit more complex than Horror. Horror is the immediate reaction to an awful realization. One can think of Terror as dealing with the future implications of a conflict while Horror is the kneejerk reaction. Shock is a malicious surprise to the characters, and hopefully to the audience as well. Lastly, Disgust is a physical feeling sparked by something gross and usually visceral. Now that we have the five emotional tenets of successful scares laid out, we can move onto their places in The Evil Dead.
Dread: Building Suspense from the Start
The first fifty seconds or so of The Evil Dead is from the point of view of an unseen force racing above a body of water. There are unidentifiable sounds. There is quite a bit of fog. We see something bubbling under the water. Then we cut to a close shot of a car containing five young friends, two of them happily singing. But this view only lasts for a couple seconds before we see a different angle, this one watching the car from the woods. We get another tracking shot of the unseen force, which is now racing through the trees. Before we’re even two minutes into the film, a threat is established. The friends are expecting a fun weekend, we’re expecting a series of malicious scenes.
Dread is built further by the “DANGEROUS BRIDGE” sign, leading to the car barely making it over the wooden beams, and the long tracking shot on the way to the cabin. The score becomes high-pitched and eerie, punctuated by a thudding beat later revealed to be a porch swing banging into the house, as we follow the car to the cabin. Suspense rises. We soon see Cheryl’s hand, apparently possessed, drawing a book with a face, followed by her vision of the hatch to the basement rattling and thumping. Later, when the friends play the mysterious tape and learn that the book brought up from the basement was “bound in human flesh and inked in human blood,” our suspicions that something is wrong with the cabin are escalated.
Terror: Contemplating the Unthinkable in The Evil Dead
Ash seems to have the most perspective of the situation and its potential aftermath, by embodying the state of Terror. When Shelly is possessed and attacks Scott and Ash, Ash is frozen in fear. Scott, meanwhile, shows little hesitance throwing his girlfriend into the fire, slicing her wrist, plunging a knife into her back, and yelling at Ash to “Hit her! Hit her! Hit it!” After Shelly is hacked into pieces, courtesy of Scott, Ash asks, “What are we gonna do?” and his friend deadpan replies “We’ll bury her.” Ash mumbles that “we can’t bury Shelly. She’s-she’ a friend of ours.” He clearly realizes the implications of the situation but doesn’t want to accept them, while Scott barrels onward.
The end of the movie is another example of Terror. The sun rises, Linda is headless, Cheryl and Scott have disintegrated, and Ash is alive. He walks out of the cabin, drenched in blood, to the sounds of a victorious score and birds chirping. The horrific events are in the past, in the night, we think . . . until that unseen force from the beginning reappears. It courses through the cabin and rams into Ash. The Terror is not over.
Horror: Immediate Reactions to Danger
Going back to Scott, the way he takes control of the situation with Shelly is indicative of Horror. He realizes that his girlfriend is dangerous and acts to stop her by whatever means necessary. He doesn’t stop to think of the repercussions of chopping his girlfriend into pieces. He only thinks of his survival in the present. His decision to leave the cabin and brave the woods alone also shows a lack of foresight. Since this is a horror movie, Scott pays for his feelings of Horror with his life.
Shock: Jump Scares and Disturbing Surprises
Shock is easy to detect in film, usually in the form of jump scares. An excellent jump scare in The Evil Dead is seen when Linda and Cheryl seem to recover from their possessed states and Ash goes to let Cheryl out of the basement. The background music stops, leaving only the sound of crickets. Ash leans down, key in hand, slowly reaching to unlock the hatch, when Cheryl’s hands burst through the floorboards to seize his neck. Just when we think the danger has abated, it comes back in full force. Another scene that elicits Shock comes much earlier in the film. This scene is notorious, and many members of the cast and crew have expressed remorse for keeping it in the final cut. I am speaking, of course, about the tree rape. We could very well understand that the woods harmed her without seeing branches forcing her into a helpless position and entering her. “It was the woods themselves,” Cheryl cries. “They’re alive, Ashley!” Thank goodness for shadows is all I have to say.
Disgust: Gore and Visceral Repulsion
Perhaps the most easily recognizable state in The Evil Dead is Disgust. The plentiful gore did lead to an X rating in the US and the film’s status as a “video nasty” in the UK, after all. Cheryl stabs Linda’s ankle with a pencil, Shelly chews off her hand, Ash decapitates Linda with a shovel, Ash gouges Scott’s eyes, cockroaches feast on the decaying bodies, etc. I’d say that tree rape also qualifies for Disgust. Think of the splinters!
Of course, as an artist may use all the colors on their palette but still produce a less than mediocre painting, we must ask if The Evil Dead is successful in its goal of scaring the viewer. The dialogue of the movie is less than stellar. Just look at the opening scene in the car:
CHERYL: You mean nobody’s seen this place yet?
SCOTT: Well, not yet.
ASHLEY: Well, it might not be that bad.
LINDA: No.
ASHLEY: Actually, it might be kind of nice.
LINDA: Yeah.
Not only is this snippet poorly written, but it also sounds stilted when performed.
The Evil Dead: A Horror Classic with Comedic Undertones
The Evil Dead has a fair share of both traditional horror aspects and those belonging to traditional comedy. The five emotional states of horror laid out by Tim Waggoner are certainly evident in the film, and although I’d say that the film leans toward horror, I do understand why some people put it firmly in the horror-comedy class. When I first watched it, I was unsettled and scared. With multiple viewings, I saw more of the comedic traits. There’s a great balance of the two, even though the team was most likely going for straight horror. With Evil Dead II: Dead by Dawn, it is clear that they embraced the comedic aspects of the first attempt and strove for a true horror-comedy.
I was late to the Radio Silence party. However, I do not let that stop me from being one of the loudest people at the function now. I randomly decided to see Ready or Not in theaters one afternoon in 2019 and walked out a better person for it. The movie introduced me to the work of a team that would become some of my favorite current filmmakers. It also confirmed that getting married is the worst thing one can do. That felt very validating as someone who doesn’t buy into the needing to be married to be complete narrative.
Ready or Not is about a fucked up family with a fucked up tradition. The unassuming Grace (Samara Weaving) thinks her new in-laws are a bit weird. However, she’s blinded by love on her wedding day. She would never suspect that her groom, Alex (Mark O’Brien), would lead her into a deadly wedding night. So, she heads downstairs to play a game with the family, not knowing that they will be hunting her this evening. This is one of the many ways I am different from Grace. I watch enough of the news to know the husband should be the prime suspect, and I have been around long enough to know men are the worst. I also have a commitment phobia, so the idea of walking down the aisle gives me anxiety.
Grace Under Fire
Ready or Not is a horror comedy set on a wealthy family’s estate that got overshadowed by Knives Out. I have gone on record multiple times saying it’s the better movie. Sadly, because it has fewer actors who are household names, people are not ready to have that conversation. However, I’m taking up space this month to talk about catharsis, so let me get back on track. One of the many ways this movie is better than the latter is because of that sweet catharsis awaiting us at the end.
This movie puts Grace through it and then some. Weaving easily makes her one of the easiest final girls to root for over a decade too. From finding out the man she loves has betrayed her, to having to fight off the in-laws trying to kill her, as she is suddenly forced to fight to survive her wedding night. No one can say that Grace doesn’t earn that cigarette at the end of the film. As she sits on the stairs covered in the blood of what was supposed to be her new family, she is a relatable icon. As the unseen cop asks what happened to her, she simply says, “In-laws.” It’s a quick laugh before the credits roll, and “Love Me Tender” by Stereo Jane makes us dance and giggle in our seats.
Ready or Not Proves That Maybe She’s Better Off Alone
It is also a moment in which Grace is one of many women who survives marriage. She comes out of the other side beaten but not broken. Grace finally put herself, and her needs first, and can breathe again in a way she hasn’t since saying I do. She fought kids, her parents-in-law, and even her husband to escape with her life. She refused to be a victim, and with that cigarette, she is finally free and safe. Grace is back to being single, and that’s clearly for the best.
This Guy Busick and R. Christopher Murphy script is funny on the surface, even before you start digging into the subtext. The fact that Ready or Not is a movie where the happy ending is a woman being left alone is not wasted on me, though. While Grace thought being married would make her happy, she now has physical and emotional wounds to remind her that it’s okay to be alone.
One of the things I love about this current era of Radio Silence films is that the women in these projects are not the perfect victims. Whether it’s Ready or Not, Abigail, or Scream (2022), or Scream VI, the girls are fighting. They want to live, they are smart and resourceful, and they know that no one is coming to help them. That’s why I get excited whenever I see Matt Bettinelli-Olpin and Tyler Gillett’s names appear next to a Guy Busick co-written script. Those three have cracked the code to give us women protagonists that are badasses, and often more dangerous than their would-be killers when push comes to shove.
Ready or Not Proves That Commitment is Scarier Than Death
So, watching Grace run around this creepy family’s estate in her wedding dress is a vision. It’s also very much the opposite of what we expect when we see a bride. Wedding days are supposed to be champagne, friends, family, and trying to buy into the societal notion that being married is what we’re supposed to aspire to as AFABs. They start programming us pretty early that we have to learn to cook to feed future husbands and children.
The traditions of being given away by our fathers, and taking our husbands’ last name, are outdated patriarchal nonsense. Let’s not even get started on how some guys still ask for a woman’s father’s permission to propose. These practices tell us that we are not real people so much as pawns men pass off to each other. These are things that cause me to hyperventilate a little when people try to talk to me about settling down.
Marriage Ain’t For Everybody
I have a lot of beef with marriage propaganda. That’s why Ready or Not speaks to me on a bunch of levels that I find surprising and fresh. Most movies would have forced Grace and Alex to make up at the end to continue selling the idea that heterosexual romance is always the answer. Even in horror, the concept that “love will save the day” is shoved at us (glares at The Conjuring Universe). So, it’s cool to see a movie that understands women can be enough on their own. We don’t need a man to complete us, and most of the time, men do lead to more problems. While I am no longer a part-time smoker, I find myself inhaling and exhaling as Grace takes that puff at the end of the film. As a woman who loves being alone, it’s awesome to be seen this way.
The Cigarette of Singledom
We don’t need movies to validate our life choices. However, it’s nice to be acknowledged every so often. If for no other reason than to break up the routine. I’m so tired of seeing movies that feel like a guy and a girl making it work, no matter the odds, is admirable. Sometimes people are better when they separate, and sometimes divorce saves lives. So, I salute Grace and her cathartic cigarette at the end of her bloody ordeal.
I cannot wait to see what single shenanigans she gets into in Ready or Not 2: Here I Come. I personally hope she inherited that money from the dead in-laws who tried her. She deserves to live her best single girl life on a beach somewhere. Grace’s marriage was a short one, but she learned a lot. She survived it, came out the other side stronger, richer, and knowing that marriage isn’t for everybody.
I’ve come to the kind of grim conclusion that sooner or later we’re all going to succumb to horror franchise fatigue. Bear with me, this editorial is more stream of consciousness than most of the ones I’ve written for Horror Press. For those unaware, the forthcoming Camp Crystal Lake show spent a short period of time shooting at a beloved local North Jersey restaurant near me in August. This meant progress for the A24 project that has been radio silent for a while; it also meant no rippers while it was closed for filming, but who said Jason’s reign of terror would be without consequence?
When Horror Franchise Fatigue Becomes An Issue
My friends mentioned it on an idle afternoon, and I carried that conversation over to another friend later that week. It inevitably turned into what all conversations of long-lived franchises do. Talking about how far the series had come, how influential it was, and how it died. Or at least, died without a death certificate. Nothing will keep a studio from coming back to a franchise if that’s where the money is, barring legal troubles and copyright shenanigans.
Revisiting Friday the 13th: A Franchise Rewatch Gone Wrong
As I fondly thought about the Friday series, I was spurred to watch the films. I would watch it all, from start to finish, all twelve movies. Not for any particular article, though the planned process was similar. They’re fascinating films that were both helped and harmed by their immense financial success, so they were as good as any franchise to analyze the changes in. I would note the difference between directors, the shift in tone. How cultural consciousness changed the films as they went on. I would dissect them to see what was at the heart of these movies.
I got about 15 minutes into Part 4 before stopping my marathon.
Horror Franchise Fatigue and the Loss of Enjoyment
Now, this might sound strange. I liked The Final Chapter, I like pretty much all the Friday films (especially the worst ones). And I know that I enjoy them, not from some abstract nostalgia driven memories, but because I had seen several of them recently enough to know that. What it came down to was a very simple question of whether or not I was having fun watching them. The enjoyment was the point, but by the fifth day, I wasn’t feeling anything. I wanted to love the Friday the 13th films the same way I did when I previously watched them, but it just didn’t happen.
And I was confused, how a franchise I had enjoyed so much had just become so unmoving. It wasn’t the experience I had had before. But the truth was that experience couldn’t be restored, and that desire to bring it back was actively harming my enjoyment of the films.
Why Standalone Horror Experiences Still Matter
In contrast, I showed my favorite giallo film to some friends recently. Dario Argento’s Opera is a film I’ve seen plenty of times, and it was a big hit thanks to its Grand Guignol sensibilities and one-of-a-kind cinematography. As far as tales about an opera singer being forced to witness murders go, it got a warm reception. It was crass, it was odd, it was provocative.
And watching my friends’ reactions, from intrigue to disgust to enjoyment, was the exact kind of experience I was hoping for. It was a memorable experience that stuck with me as much as seeing the film for the first time did.
We Don’t Love Horror Franchises, We Love the Experience
It may sound ignorant, but largely, I feel we don’t love franchises. We love the experience. We love the feeling of seeing something come together over the course of hours, the novelty of characters growing and changing if it’s allowed by the scripts. The special emotion invoked when you spend so much time with a piece of media; it’s the same emotion that gets you hooked on a good TV show.
Now for some of you, this is splitting hairs. But I think the core of this is important to recognize: the franchise is just a vessel for the experiences the media provides. It’s shorthand for what you’ve felt and how you feel, a signifier rather than what’s really being signified. The Friday, and Nightmare, and Halloween “series”, as concepts are abstract enough to mean a million different things to a million different viewers, but at the end of the day they are all a collection of viewing experiences to someone.
Fan Culture, Shared Horror Memories, and Closure
Those experiences are the core of “fan culture”. We love how our experiences link with those of others, registering flashes of recognition at a turn of phrase or a reference to a scene. That nebulous tangling of thoughts and feelings with other people is at the essence of shared enjoyment. And if you’re lucky enough, we love to see the book close on a franchise. To see a film series end, having completed its journey is a reward of its own.
But unfortunately, we often don’t get the privilege of watching a series end gracefully or even end at all. The Halloween series and The Exorcist series with their latest entries are obvious examples, and they’ve put the two franchises at arm’s length for me. But they’re far from the only ones.
Scream, Legacy Characters, and the Cost of Overextension
I especially don’t think I can return to the Scream films for a good long while. Putting aside the absolute trash fire made by Spyglass Entertainment firing its lead, then rushing a 7th film so badly they lost the Radio Silence team, I had already tapped out the minute I had heard the film’s premise. If there ever was a horror protagonist who should have stayed retired, it was Sidney Prescott.
All respect to Neve Campbell for finally getting her paycheck, but I can’t think of something less appealing than Sidney coming back. I’ve always been a Scream 3 purist, so I firmly believe that she shouldn’t have been in any of the films after that. She had gotten her happy ending, and left horror as one of the greatest of all time.
But then dangling a legacy character of that significance over a shallow inflatable pool for a third time, and treating it as shark infested waters, just feels ridiculous. The trailer that dropped for it did very little to assuage the notion that it would be anything but predictable.
This isn’t to say I’ve written off Scream entirely, but familiarity in this case has bred some level of contempt. I can identify pretty clearly what I loved about the experience that the Scream franchise used to offer, and this is not it. It’s made me more or less sulky about what it has to offer now; that is, very little of the novelty and shock factor I loved it for.
Why It’s Okay to Walk Away From Horror Franchises You Love
All of these thoughts and encounters led to a series of questions I kept revolving through. Why do we play a game of loyalty to something so abstract as “the franchise”? Is the collection of experiences we attach to a series supposed to be an emotional wage we’re paid to stick around? Is that payment enough? Why should we keep watching a series if we’ve fallen out of love with what it has to offer?
I know as much as you do that the answer to that last question is “we shouldn’t”, and yet we still do. For those of us who have fallen into a similar pessimistic state about the franchises we enjoy, I guess this is all just a way of stating the obvious: it’s okay to leave a series behind. If it’s not fun or engaging or challenging, you can and should set it aside, at least temporarily. While I’m not a proponent of killing fond memories or condemning all nostalgia, that’s just the problem: I want to feel something more than I want to remember that feeling.
Choosing New Horror Over Nostalgia
The old experience of media we once loved can be nice, but there are more new experiences out there than we can have in a single lifetime. We have a near infinite amount to choose from. So, if we’re fortunate, one of them belongs to a series we love, and we can enjoy it once more. But for those of us who don’t have that luck, consider this a reminder that there is a lot more than these familiar faces to see. Next time you feel down about a series you miss or find yourself unable to continue watching, reach for something new. Something odd. Something you haven’t seen. It might just help.
Happy watching, horror fans.
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