metaphorror

“… Enjoying horror stories, as I do, or finding them inherently pointless, silly and unwholesome, as many others do, is largely a matter of taste and temperament and is therefore unarguable. So rather than attempt to convert anybody, I’ll just try to explain, with as little defensiveness as possible, what attracts me to this often indefensible genre. Since I don’t actually believe in the existence of ghoulies and ghosties and long-leggedy beasties and things that go bump in the night. …”

“Why write a literary horror novel anyway? I’m not only interested in spinning a scary, titillating yarn. Yes, my novel is inhabited by characters like the protagonist, Epstein’s mother, Olivia, who’s undead and buys blood from a heroin addict; the conjoined-twin bloodsuckers who date back to the Civil War and head an evangelical church after abandoning their own murderous past; and Professor Applebaum—biological anthropologist, bloodsucker, and Olivia’s boyfriend during Epstein’s childhood…”

in lies a Freudian answer to the question how horror film monsters are able to horrify, considering the fact that audiences are fully aware of their fictional status. Because a belief in the legitimate possibility of reconfirmation is enough to produce a conflict of judgment, a belief in the actual existence of horror film monsters (or the paradigmatic narratives they metaphorically embody) is not necessary to generate feelings of uncanniness/horror. Noel Carroll, in his provocative study, The Philosophy of Horror; or Paradoxes of the Heart (1990), fails to note this difference between actual and possible existence beliefs. Wisely rejecting the blanket assumption that “we are only moved emotionally where we believe that the object of our emotion exists,” Carroll goes too far in the other direction, claiming (i) that “the thought of a fearsome and disgusting character like Dracula is something that can be entertained without believing that Dracula exists,” and (ii) that “thought contents we entertain without believing them can genuinely move us emotionally.”

“… Choice #1 is that you can make a standalone movie featuring one of your treasured baddies. It seems obvious, but you can’t place them back in the past. And please, do not F’n think about placing them in the future. Remember, everything that has gone into space or ventures into sci-fi territory dies (consider that a free survival tip as well).

Choice #2 is currently the latest fad in Hollywood: Put the big four (Dracula, Wolfie, Mummy, and Frankie) in the same story. Yes, 2004’s Van Helsing tried this but crammed too much into a campy CGI-laced adventure. NO MORE CAMPY STORIES for starters. 1987’s Monster Squad went that devilishly clever route and pulled it off; so let’s just sit back and admire what that cult-favorite already accomplished and go for the jugular on this sucker. …’

“… Research into the relationship between physical attractiveness and crime in the various media found that physical ugliness and physical differences are often associated with media depictions of violence and crime (Needham & Weiner, 1974). Horror movies make free use of this strategy. Gardner & Radel (1978), who analyzed American newspapers and television for references to disabled people, found that about one half of the items portrayed the disabled as dependent persons. A tenth of the items portrayed the disabled as being in some way deviant: “strange, antisocial or bizarre.” Only about one quarter of the items portrayed the disabled as persons capable of independent living and of contributing to society. Cartoons and comic strip captions are also important carriers of prejudicial and discriminatory language and images of evil cripples. Words such as “stupid moron,” “idiot,” “crazy,” are common jargon in strips such as Beetle Bailey, and the various “animal” comic strips. Everyday words which refer to specific conditions have become standardized as curse words, and stereotypes of conditions are reinforced (Weinberg & Santana, 1978). …”

“… Every zombie tale with something worth saying does so with tongue deeply in cheek, but the stories are by definition not happy or optimistic. The characters in these stories who would not have even shared a seat on a bus are now stuck together. They wall themselves up in some societal symbolic structure (a church, a farmhouse, or a shopping mall), they try to get along and stay alive despite their differences, and they end up more often than not turning on one other. In other words, they lose track of the enemy. And the enemy? I’d argue that it is the desire to oversimplify during uncertain times. Oversimplification is bad. (I know - that’s an oversimplified statement) …”

… Zombies! Organize!!

The zombies are a 50% metaphor for: the proletariat

Concept/sound: Baby-voiced, surprisingly chill Marxist zombie hip-hop to foment laid-back revolution at the goth club. Yes, this is the weirdest song on the list.
Exemplary Line: “We want to send capitalism into a tailspin; eating up the rich will be our sweetest retribution.”
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We want to eliminate the distress of the unknown. We want, in other words, to achieve “cognitive closure.” This term was coined by the social psychologist Arie Kruglanski, who eventually defined it as “individuals’ desire for a firm answer to a question and an aversion toward ambiguity,” a drive for certainty in the face of a less than certain world. When faced with heightened ambiguity and a lack of clear-cut answers, we need to know—and as quickly as possible. …

“Your mother sings you a song as you slowly drift off to sleep, but your rest is short lived. Your eyes struggle open as your teddy bear is dragged away by something you can’t see. Your crib tilts, dumping you onto the floor. This is your room and these are your toys, but they look far more menacing in the late hours of the night. You’re two years old, and the world is terrifying.’