by Jimmy O'Hara All Hallows Eve is significant around the world for various historical, cultural, and pop-cultural reasons, but for horror fans, the hype also revolves around the equally emblematic slasher hit Halloween (1978). Starring legendary, future Oscar-winning actress Jamie Lee Curtis in her debut/breakout role, the small indie genre film perfected the slick storytelling of Black Christmas (1974) and combined it with the viscerally grunge gore of The Texas Chain Saw Massacre (1974) to cement the subgenre for over the next two decades; it propelled the slasher horror genre into the 1980s just in time for the encroaching reek of Reagan era satanic panic. Forty years later, Halloween (2018) premiered at the back end of the 2010’s to resurrect the slasher genre from a depth of hell in which even Jason and Freddy wouldn’t find themselves lurking. Once more, the slasher lives on to see a new decade: The 2020’s– bigger, better, and scarier than ever before seen on screens. Jason sycophants and Crystal Lake campers may be offended that Friday the 13th (1980) is not being credited as patient zero for the slasher BOOM that defined the 80s. Yet, despite premiering at the top of the decade, Friday the 13th would not have become the blockbuster series it continues to be (A24’s Camp Crystal Lake serialized adaptation drops later this year) if Carpenter’s hit hadn’t first succeeded in subverting horror fans, critics, and general audience perceptions alike two years prior. Without Halloween, audiences would have never met Jason and his mother, Freddy and the dream warriors of Elm Street, or even Ghostface and his movie buffs DECADES later. Nearly three hundred (300!!!) American slashers were produced between 1980-1989 alone. Those kinds of numbers, and their continuous cultural impact, are hard to recreate. But the 2020’s dare to try, and it's all thanks to Carpenter's franchise. Cut to 2018, Curtis is in a career resurgence…EXACTLY forty years after her debut in Halloween. It was the perfect time for a Halloween revival and, with the help of a changing world, evolving tastes, and the viewpoints of a new generation, the perfect time to breathe new life into the slasher! Since 2018, and even more since the 2020’s began, audiences have been treated to revivals of their favorite franchises including Scream, Friday the 13th, The Strangers. And movies like MaXXXIne, Fear Street, and Bodies Bodies Bodies are shining, fresh stars for a new, slasher-loving generation. The slasher was first introduced during a conflicted era in American history; in the shadow of a war and political stagnation, social repressions manifested on the surface of mainstream consciousness revolving around gender and sexuality. It was similar to where we are now; in the wake of a global pandemic and rampant and rising conservatism, a new generation is reshaping the dialogue that will define America’s future (or else face a fate worse than a slasher victim). In this environment, it’s natural that the slasher be reworked as well. An iconic, genre-defining, critically acclaimed, and period-reflecting slasher masterpiece like Halloween or Scream has yet to reveal itself in this new generation. It will though, sooner rather than later, because the 2020’s are THE first decade to watch for horror since the 1980s concluded.
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Friends of The Bitter Wolf Greetings, pesky humans! It is I, B.P. Wolf, with some semi-embarrassing news to share. During this year’s Wolf Moon, I may have gotten a bit carried away with the festivities. Connie forgot to deadbolt the door, so I escaped from my den and paid a visit to the local village. I couldn’t tell you exactly what happened, but in my state of ecstasy, it seems I was more anaconda than wolf that day. Later, I burped up various assortments of teeth and bone, three full fingers, a throat piece (I don’t know what that’s called!), someone’s ponytail, and four or five separate wallets. Would you believe that between all of those wallets, I was only able to scrounge up enough change for a single McFlurry? And then the machine was broken. Criminal! Anyway, this happened all the way back in January. I had just begun settling into another hibernation when the villagers came along and dragged me kicking and screaming out of my cave. Pro-tip: Never black out and gobble down everyone’s credit cards and expect no repercussions from the sensitive humans. Their wheels of injustice might be slow, but in this case, they were steady, and now I’ve been sentenced by the Wolf People’s Court to make “regular contact with humankind.” So, I decided to make you, my readers, suffer with me! Every month, I’ll present to you this court-ordered commentary written by some horror-loving human acquaintances. I told them they can ramble on about whatever topics they think are important. I don’t care! I’m just doing my civic duty. Without further ado, I'm pleased to introduce Jimmy O’Hara! Jimmy is a versatile queer artist who writes horror commentary over at his AfterDark blog. He also acts, writes screenplays, and is known around the world as the #1 aficionado of all things Scooby-Doo. Okay, that last part might be an exaggeration. He likes Scooby-Doo. But Jimmy, I ask you this: How can you promote that evil Mutt of Mystery? He consistently slurps up the last of the McFlurries! Don’t believe me? Do you have a better explanation for why those machines are always “broken”? There's no mystery to these machines. It’s Scoob! Anway, let me shut up so Jimmy can tell you what he thinks about slasher movies, then and now. Connie, leave that mouse alone and pay attention! Jimmy’s talking. Many full moons ago, I traveled to Cape Cod to visit a friend. It was a friend, Connie, not a euphemism! And it was long before my cave-dwelling days . . . Yes, it was summer in Provincetown. We ate lobster rolls and drank beer. As we walked along the shore, we met some nice gentlemen relaxing on beach blankets. They invited us to share a few joints, and we laughed and basked in the sun all afternoon. For a moment, I forgot about the years of waking up in the middle of the night, not knowing where I was or how I got there, and puking up the remains of raw pheasant from last night’s hunt (or, perhaps raw peasant!) until eventually I drifted away into a long sleep of vacation. A few hours later, I stirred from my slumber and watched as my new friends splashed around in the ocean while I applied gentle aloe to my freshly sunpoisoned underbelly. Did you know that werewolves hibernate half of the year? I always choose summertime because that’s when you humans are out and about in sticky, sweaty droves, so I’d rather skip all that if I may. Instead, I hunker down with my cat, Connie, and binge watch horror movies for six months straight! However, now that winter is upon us, I can finally emerge from my den. Wake up, and smell the . . .
For an introverted wolf such as I, the whole concept of social media is terrifying. You want PEOPLE, of all people, watching your every move? There is a reason I built my own planet, wiped my own memory of its very location, constructed a vast, intricate cave system for my home, and let Connie manage all of my social media accounts: To keep people out. Simple as that! Still, I find myself bothering with these horror movies all about the dumb decisions the humans seem dedicated to making even with their lives at stake. And now for the whole world to see on a public forum through something called “vlogging.” Vlogging. How does one even PRONOUNCE that word? I snigger and pat myself on the back, where I discover a new ringworm patch. Yes, I used to be human myself, and perhaps that part of me feels bad to watch them desperately seek validation from total strangers. Ha! Fat chance. By the way, don’t forget to subscribe to my blog!!! Maybe my cringe-video and horror film addiction boils down to the fact that, besides flesh and blood, I am sustained by sweet, sweet schadenfreude. What I’m saying is you don’t need violent bloodshed to drive home the point that social media sucks, but it definitely makes it more fun. Which brings me to Sissy (2022). The Pool (2018) features a blood-thirsty croc! But that's not the only danger . . . So, the other day I was running around my cave, yelling and screaming at my cat, Ms. Congeniality, for once again coughing up a hairball right onto Ma’s old human-skin rug. Plop down in the center! That is the centerpiece of my living space, you ass! This rug has retained its shine over the years thanks to a thin laminate layer and despite probably hundreds of pounds of hairballs, spilt blood, and accidentally-dropped leftover entrails from dinner. “It’s all I have left of Ma, you delinquent!” I gathered the hairball, tossed it into the fireplace, felt a tickle at the back of my throat, and coughed up my own hairball in the exact same spot as that darn cat. Sorry, Ma. Ms. Congeniality rolled her eyes. It was around this time that I began reflecting on a movie I watched a few days ago—a movie that features one more useful animal than my own and one that is a bit more of a nuisance. That movie is The Pool (2018). |
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May 2024
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