In some horror movies, the
plot is structured by attempting to solve a problem to no avail. Such
plots have three parts: the problem, which is the film's inciting
moment; the solution, its turning point; and the failure of the
attempted solution, the denouement.
These are examples of films
that have this three-part structure.
The Hunger
(1983)
Problem:
Beautiful vampire Miriam's husband John begins to age rapidly.
Solution:
Miriam seeks a new lover.
What
Goes Wrong: Miriam ages rapidly after a lover locks her inside a
coffin.
Jennifer's Body
(2009)
Problem:
A ritual transforms Jennifer into a succubus who must devour men to
survive.
Solution:
Jennifer goes on a killing spree.
What
Goes Wrong: During a fight Jennifer bites Needy, who then kills
Jennifer but, assuming some of Jennifer's traits, Needy becomes a
killer.
The Witches of Eastwick
(1987)
Problem:
Witches seek the perfect man.
Solution:
They find the devil, who poses as their dream come true.
What
Goes Wrong: The witches attempt to control the devil through various
magic spells.
Piranha 3D (2010):
Problem:
Flesh-eating, prehistoric fish swarm Lake Victoria during spring
break.
Solution:
The fish feed on tourists.
What
Goes Wrong: The piranha are killed, but they are only babies; the
mature piranhas live, continuing the attacks.
Species
(1995)
Problem:
A female alien, Sil, needs to breed.
Solution:
Sil kills men unsuitable mates.
What
Goes Wrong: Although blasted with a shotgun, Sil mutates into a
different, equally vicious, organism.
Nekromaniac
(1987)
Problem:
Rob, a street sweeper who cleans up after grisly accidents brings
home a full corpse for him and his wife Betty to enjoy sexually.
Solution:
Betty prefers the corpse over Rob.
What
Goes Wrong: Rob commits suicide.
Psycho
(1960)
Problem:
Norman Bates's mother won't allow him to date.
Solution:
Norman kills a woman to whom he is attracted.
What
Goes Wrong: Norman, who dresses as his late “mother,” is arrested
and jailed.
An analysis of horror
films discloses the use of a number of specific types of scenic
elements that tend to recur frequently in such movies. Except for the
prologue and the epilogue, the order in which these scenic elements
occur may differ, and not all may be present in a film, although,
typically, many, if not all, appear. In addition, each scenic element
can be shown by itself or in combination with another (for example,
an abduction can stand alone or be followed by a rescue or a murder). (Those common to more than one of the films analyzed in this post are in bold font.)
In Halloween (1978),
these scenic elements occur in this order:
Prologue
(introduction)
Escape
(flight from antagonist or captivity)
Stalking
(hunting)
Investigation
(search for information by either amateur or professional sleuth[s])
Murder(s)
(unjustified killing[s])
Encounter
of protagonist and antagonist (first meeting of hero or heroine and
villain, usually without violence)
Initial
attack on protagonist (first attack upon the hero or heroine)
Escape
Sustained
attack on protagonist (sustained attack on hero or heroine, often by
antagonist)
Rescue
(deliverance from danger)
Epilogue
(conclusion following main action of plot)
In
Annabelle (2014),
these scenic elements occur in this order:
Prologue
Murder(s)
Investigation
Attack
Rescue
Intelligence
(provision or acquisition of information, often about the villain
[e. g., origin, past, relationships], through secondary sources,
such as television or radio news broadcasts, Internet browsing,
books, police reports)
Paranormal
or supernatural incidents: (events inexplicable by science or
reason)
Relocation
(displacement from one location to another)
Pursuit
Escape
Discovery
(finding of intelligence through own or others' actions)
Attack
Discovery
Attack
Warning
(advisory of imminent danger)
Attempted
abduction (carrying away by force)
Epilogue
In
The Exorcist, (1973),
these scenic elements occur in this order:
Prologue
Paranormal
or supernatural incidents
Investigation
(medical)
Investigation
(constabulary)
Encounter
of protagonist and antagonist
Intelligence
Paranormal
or supernatural incidents
Attack
Death
(loss of life due to natural causes)
Attack
Death
Rescue
Epilogue
In
Psycho (1960), these
scenic elements occur in this order:
Tryst
(private meeting between lovers)
Crime
other than murder (theft)
Escape
Investigation
Relocation
Concealment
of stolen property
Encounter
of protagonist and antagonist
Argument
(heated discussion between two or more characters)
Repeated
encounter of protagonist and antagonist
Decision
to make restitution (deciding to restore to the rightful owner
something that has been taken away, lost, or surrendered)
Murder
Disposal
of incriminating evidence
Intelligence
Investigation
Murder
Investigation
Discovery
Intelligence
Investigation
Distraction
(deliberate diversion of someone's attention from one incident or
action to another)
Attack
Concealment
of oneself or another
Discovery
Attack
Rescue
Intelligence
As
this partial analysis of the recurring types of scenic elements
common to horror films shows, such movies frequently use the same
ones, despite the dramatic details of their plots. A writer who is
interested in writing a horror novel or screenplay can use these same
scenic elements to construct a plot based on a structure that has
stood the test of time.
As bestselling author
James Patterson points out, thrillers, which span the whole spectrum
of genres, are characterized by “the intensity of emotions they
create, particularly those of apprehension and exhilaration, of
excitement and breathlessness, all designed to generate that
all-important thrill” (Thriller).
To generate thrills,
thriller authors pull out all the stops, employing isolated settings,
traps, disguises, cover-ups, red herrings, plot twists, unreliable
narrators, cliffhangers, situational irony, and dramatic irony. Many
thrillers also begin in media res,
in the middle of things, so there is little or no context to explain
mysterious events until, in due time, they are explained through
flashbacks, dialogue, exposition, or other means.
By taking an Aristotelian
approach to analyzing thrillers, we can develop a long list of
incidents common to thrillers. (By “Aristotelian approach,” I
mean studying how established writers of thrillers keep their readers
on the edges of their seats.) In doing so, we want to universalize
our incidents so that they can apply to any character in any
thriller, existing or yet to come. To do so, we dispense with names,
and we tend to repeat phrases. The idea is to isolate plot elements
(incidents) that can
occur in any thriller
and that can be used in several ways (e. g., as inciting moments,
turning points, moments of final suspense);
be used individually
or in groups, sequentially (as per the list) or otherwise;
be mixed and matched
in various combinations.
By way of example, I have
assembled a partial list of one that, ideally, would be long enough
to fill a book of many pages. I have listed the incidents as they
occur in the plots of the films from which they are taken (but,
remember, they can be assembled in any fashion, with any number of
them being used, and they can be used for several narrative
purposes). In addition, at the beginning of each incident, in bold
font, I have identified the category that each incident seems to fit,
by way of its function. This would be only the beginning of a list
that could (and should) be expanded to include many incidents from
movies or novels of the same category, or subgenre, of story. As my
subgenre, I have used examples of psychological thrillers: Alfred
Hitchcock’s Blackmail
(1929) and J. Lee Thompson’s Cape Fear
(1962).
From
Blackmail
Vulnerability:
A woman is left alone.
Poor
judgment; self-endangerment:
A woman accompanies a stranger to another location.
False
sense of security: A stranger puts (or tries
to put) a woman at ease.
Incriminating
evidence: Unknowingly, a woman provides
evidence that later incriminates (or could incriminate) her.
Attempted
sexual assault: A stranger attempts to rape a
woman.
Assistance
unavailable: A woman’s cries for help go
unanswered.
Self-defense:
A woman fights for her life.
Fatal
encounter: A woman kills her attacker.
Shock:
In a daze, a traumatized woman wanders the streets all night.
Discovery
of crime: A stranger’s body is found.
Initiation
of investigation: A detective is assigned to
a murder investigation.
Discovery
of incriminating evidence: A detective finds
incriminating evidence at a crime scene.
Recognition:
A detective recognizes a dead person.
Removal
of incriminating evidence: A detective
removes incriminating evidence from a crime scene.
Interrogation
of suspect: A detective interrogates a
suspect.
Sympathetic
character: A suspect is too distraught to
answer a detective’s questions.
Accommodation:
A detective speaks to a suspect in private.
Witness’s
observation: An eyewitness sees a woman
accompany a man to his quarters.
Recovery
of incriminating evidence: An eyewitness
recovers incriminating evidence from a crime scene.
Linking
of incriminating evidence to suspect: An
eyewitness links recovers incriminating evidence he has recovered
from a crime scene based on complementary or matching evidence in a
detective’s possession.
Blackmail:
An eyewitness blackmails a detective and a suspect.
Criminal
record: An eyewitness is revealed to have a
criminal record and is wanted for questioning concerning a criminal
investigation.
Back-up:
A detective sends for police officers.
Flight:
A suspect flees from police.
Accidental
death; removal of a threat: Fleeing from
police, a suspect falls to his death.
Acceptance
of resolution: Police assume that a suspect
who fell to his death while fleeing from police is the criminal they
sought.
Intention
to confess: A suspect goes to the police to
confess to having committed a crime.
Fortuitous
coincidence: A police inspector receives a
telephone call and instructs a detective to assist a woman who has
come to the station or precinct to confess to a crime.
Confession
with mitigating factor: A woman confesses to
having committed a crime but offers a just reason for having done so.
Apparent
escape: A detective and a suspect leave a
police station together.
Possibility
of prosecution: A police officer arrives at
the station or precinct with evidence in hand that could incriminate
a suspect.
(To
see the details of these plot incidents as Hitchcock uses them in
Blackmail, read a
summary
of the movie’s plot.)
From Cape
Fear
Release:
A convicted criminal is paroled.
Return:
A parolee tracks down the person he blames for his conviction.
Threat:
The parolee threatens the family of the person whom he blames for his
conviction.
Stalking:
The parolee stalks the family of the person whom he blames for his
conviction.
Terrorism:
The parolee kills the dog that belongs to the family of the person
whom he blames for his conviction.
Protection:
A man threatened by a parolee hires a private detective.
Crime:
A parolee rapes a woman.
Intimidation:
A rape victim refuses to testify against the man who raped her.
Intervention:
The person whom a parolee blames for his conviction hires three men
to beat the parolee to force him to leave town.
Failed
intervention: The parolee gets the better of
the three men hired to beat him.
Punishment
of victim: A parolee’s intended victim is
disbarred as a result of having hired three men to beat the parolee
so he would leave town.
Refuge:
A parolee’s intended victim takes his family to a houseboat to
protect them from a vengeful parolee.
Lying
in wait; protection: A local lawman and a
parolee’s intended victim lie in wait to arrest a parolee who plans
to attach the victim’s family.
Attrition:
A parolee kills a local lawman lying in wait to arrest him.
Escape:
A parolee eludes his intended victim.
Isolation:
A parolee isolates the family of his intended victim.
Strategic
attack (feint): A parolee attacks the wife of
his intended victim.
Rescue:
A parolee’s intended victim rescues his wife from the parole.
Attack:
A parolee attacks his intended victim’s daughter.
Rescue:
An intended victim rescues his daughter from a vengeful parolee.
Struggle:
An intended victim fights a vengeful parolee.
Neutralization:
An intended victim shoots a vengeful parolee, wounding and disabling
him.
Plea:
A vengeful parolee asks his intended victim to kill him.
Ironic
vengeance (poetic justice): A parolee’s
intended victim refrains from killing a vengeful parolee, preferring
that he be returned to prison for life instead.
Resolution:
A parolee’s intended victim and his family, accompanied by police,
return home.
(To
see the details of these plot incidents as Thompson uses them in Cape
Fear, read a summary
of the movie’s plot.)
Concluding
Thoughts
These
incidents could be even further generalized to attain true
universality. For example, “The parolee kills the dog that belongs
to the family of the person whom he blames for his conviction”
could be rewritten as “The parolee intimidates the family of the
person whom he blames for his conviction” or “The parolee
terrorizes the family of the person whom he blames for his
conviction.” The degree to which any incident is generalized
depends on your own purposes as a writer creating such a list. The
list, of course, can be either further generalized or made more
specific, as circumstances warrant. For this reason, it may be
desirable to keep a “master list” and make a copy of it to
generalize more or less, as circumstances warrant.
An
extensive list of thriller incidents allows you to pick and choose
which incident on the list might best be used for a specific purpose,
such as an inciting moment, a turning point, a moment of final
suspense, a flashback, a flash-forward, a cliffhanger, exposition,
etc. For example, almost any of the incidents on this list could
serve the function of the inciting moment, initiating the rest of the
story:
Of course, the story will
change accordingly, since the incidents of a plot must be connected
through an ongoing series of causes and effects. Furthermore, you
will develop the incidents in your own way, so they will not be the
same, in detail, as those of Hitchcock, Thompson, or any other
director or writer. As Heraclitus observed, long ago, it is
impossible to step into the same river twice; the water, the silt,
the fish, the current, the temperature are all different each time.
Note:
This post assumes that you have seen the movie The
Exorcist
(1973). If you have not, Wikipedia
offers a fairly detailed, accurate summary of the plot.
Results of a 2009 Pew
Research Center survey
indicate that 33 percent of scientists believe in God; another 18 percent “believe
in a universal spirit or higher power.” However, 83 percent of the
American populace as a whole believes in God and 12 percent “believe
in a universal spirit or higher power.” As far as disbelief is
concerned, 41 percent of scientists do “not believe in God or a
higher power” and 4 percent of the general public share their view. (A 2017 poll places the number of Americans who "do not believe in any higher power/spiritual force" at 10 percent.)
Source: fanpop.com
According to some
evolutionary psychologists, faith developed like any other evolved
adaptation, or trait: it promotes human survival and reproduction.
Faith, proponents of this point of view argue, is comforting,
provides community cohesion, and offers a basis for ethics and
“higher moral values.” Others regard faith as a spandrel
or an expatation, that is, a “by-product of adaptations” that is
useful for reinforcing the authority and status of the clergy and for providing
emotional support for the faithful in times of trouble. As is true of
many of the arguments of evolutionary psychology, these claims are
controversial, keeping critics aplenty busy on both sides of the discussion.
Source: pinterest.com
The Exorcist
offers a concrete example of faith in action in Father Karras's
exorcism of the demon (or demons) who allegedly possess Regan
MacNeil.
Source: flickriver.com
The
priest's faith may provide some emotional comfort for him, but, it is
obvious to the movie's audiences, his faith does not extinguish his
feelings of guilt regarding his perceived neglect of his ailing
mother, and faith as such offers little immediate comfort or reassurance to any
of the other characters, with the possible exception of Father
Merrin, who is killed early in the movie.
Although
Karras's faith may hold the “community” of Regan's family
together, his life as a priest, although it may assist some members
of the wider world, seems to offer little benefit to his own life or
to that of the Church he serves.
Source: pinterest.com
Karras's
faith does seem to cause him to judge, condemn, and feel revulsion
toward the demons who allegedly possess Regan, and he frequently rebukes them, denouncing their behavior as impious, blasphemous, and
sacrilegious, without passing judgment on the girl herself: he hates
the sin, not the sinner.
Source: docuniverse.blogspot.com
Throughout
the movie, Karras experiences a crisis of faith. The ordeal that his
mother faced during her illness, his own callous treatment of his
mother (as he sees it); the apparent indifference and cruelty of
human beings for one another; the sins that he encounters daily, both
as a man and a priest; and the evil he witnesses as he seeks to
exorcise the demons that have possessed the child he seeks to deliver
suggest to him that, either he has lost his faith and, indeed, might
never have had a true basis for belief in and trust of God; God has
abandoned him; or, worst of all, God is “dead” or never existed
to begin with, except as a myth. In any case, faith does not appear
to have any true survival value—until Karras makes what Soren
Kierkegaarad calls “the leap of faith.”
Close
to despair, Karras does not despair. Close to renouncing his faith in
God, Karras remains faithful to God. He shows that he is, indeed, the
man of faith whom he has long professed to be. He has been
discouraged. He has had doubts. He has entertained disbelief.
However, to save Regan, he invites her demons into himself and then
leaps out of her bedroom window, falling to his death. In doing so,
he delivers her from the evil spirits that possessed her. But
Karras accomplishes more as well; he remains true to his own
beliefs, to his calling, to himself, to God.
Source: ft.com
According
to the online Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy, in Kierkegaard's thought,
“the choice
of faith is not made once and for all. It is essential that faith
be constantly renewed by means of repeated avowals of faith.”
Despite his doubts, Karras has constantly renewed his faith. Despite
his temptation to despair, Karras does not despair. Close to
renouncing his faith in God, Karras remains faithful to God. In each
of these decisions, he maintains his faith and, therefore,
himself.
As
Kierkegaard points out, “in order to maintain itself as a relation
which relates itself to itself, the self must constantly renew its
faith in 'the power which posited it.'” This “repetition” of
his faith sustains Karras, allowing him to deliver Regan. Initial appearances aside, the
priest's faith, as it turns out, has tremendous survival power, both
for Karras himself, who, in remaining true to his faith in God,
remains true to himself, and for Regan, whom he delivers from her
demons.
Source: listal.com
For
those who do believe in God, even if they represent a minority of the
populace as a whole, their faith delivers them (and, indeed, many
others whom they aid). Their faith makes them whole, even if they are
broken; sets them free, even if they are possessed; enables them to
reach—and even sometimes save—others, believers and disbelievers
alike, by their example. Even if their accomplishments were to be
attributed solely to their belief in belief, to their faith in faith,
and to their trust in trust, rather than to an objective, real, personal
God, these amazing and extraordinary accomplishments stand,
testaments to the assertion that the trait of faith has survival
value.
Note: This post assumes that you have seen the movie Backcountry.
If you have not, Wikipedia offers a fairly detailed, accurate summary
of the film's plot.
As prompts for groups in my English 101 classes, after we had
watched Backcountry (2014) and the class had been divided into
groups, I would distribute these instructions:
Which personality traits (use nouns to identify them) are
predicated or dependent upon others? Which are primary and which are
secondary? In other words, can an immature person be responsible? Can
a cowardly person defend someone else if doing so puts him or her in
danger? In developing your thesis, you should consider these
questions, so that your claim is not self-contradictory.
Fill in the three blanks with the TRAITS (use nouns to identify
them) of Alex’s character that you see as related to his errors of
judgment. (Make sure these errors lead to his death and to Jen’s
endangerment.) Some of these errors may directly lead to
consequences; others may indirectly do so. In your paragraphs, you
should distinguish the former from the latter.
THESIS: Alex’s ______________, ______________,
and ______________ lead him to make many errors of judgment that
result in his death and Jen’s endangerment.
Based upon the thesis, write the body paragraph (1, 2, or 3)
assigned to your group. The first sentence should be the paragraph’s
topic sentence. Use simple present tense.
The blanks could be filled in with a variety of traits, but let's
use this thesis for the purposes of this post:
THESIS: Alex’s immaturity, self-interest, and impetuosity
lead him to make many errors of judgment that result in his death and
Jen’s endangerment.
If a trait is defined as an evolved adaptation, we must ask, how
each of Alex's adaptations, or traits, promotes his survival and the
chance that he will generate offspring through reproduction. Since
he, in fact, does not survive and, therefore, cannot reproduce, the
answer is apparent at once that his adaptations do not "work";
they do not enable him to survive. Quite the contrary, they are,
essentially, the death of him—and nearly of Jen. Simple. Lacking
the traits that do promote survival, he dies.
His girlfriend is the final girl, who survives their ordeal.
Therefore, it is her traits, or adaptations, that we should examine.
In many ways, she is a foil, or opposite, to Alex. We could fill
in the thesis's blanks with traits that are the opposite of Alex's
own and produce a good summary of some of the adaptations that enable
her to survive their ordeal:
THESIS: Jen’s maturity, altruism, and caution lead her to
make sound judgments that result in her survival.
Another way to approach our consideration is to identify the
mistakes that each character makes during their visit to a provincial
park in Canada.
Source: allocine.fr
Let's start with Alex, who makes considerably more mistakes and
more serious ones than Jen; as we list his errors, we will also
characterize them as springing from poor judgment; an immature desire
to impress Jen; inconsideration; deceitfulness; negligence;
carelessness; an immature desire to focus Jen's attention on himself;
or recklessness.
He refuses the map of the camp that the ranger offers him:
poor judgment; an immature desire to impress Jen. (Jen and Alex
become lost and have no guidance out of the woods. His behavior
could endanger their lives.)
He leaves Jen's cell phone in the trunk of their vehicle:
poor judgment; an immature desire to focus Jen's attention on
himself; deceitfulness. (Without a phone, Alex and Jen have no way
to call for help. His behavior could endanger their lives.)
He neglects tending to his toe after dropping their canoe on
it: poor judgment; an immature desire to impress Jen; recklessness.
(He could have become incapacitated or died of an infection, so his
neglect endangers himself and, possibly, Jen by making her more
vulnerable.)
He removes his clothes and leaps naked into a lake: poor
judgment; recklessness. (He could injure himself on a rock in the
lake and, without clothes to keep him warm, he could succumb to the
cold, endangering his own life and potentially leaving Jen
unprotected.)
He leaves Jen alone to cut firewood: poor judgment. (By
herself, she is vulnerable to animal attack or the assault of
another camper; thus, he endangers her life.)
He leaves his hatchet in the trunk of a tree: poor judgment.
(He leaves a potential weapon behind, both depriving himself of its
use and potentially arming a human predator; he thus endangers both
Jen's life and his own.)
He does not dismiss a stranger (Brad), whom, in Alex's
absence, Jen invites to join Alex and her for dinner at their
campsite: poor judgment. (The stranger, Brad, who happens upon Jen
could be dangerous: he might have raped or killed Jen. His behavior
could endanger their lives.)
Even after learning that Brad is in the park, Alex again
leaves Jen alone at their campsite, he leaves Jen alone again to
retrieve the hatchet he's left embedded in a tree trunk: poor
judgment. (By herself, she is vulnerable to animal attack or the
assault of another camper; thus, he endangers her life.)
He does not turn back when he sees bear prints: poor
judgment; recklessness. (His inaction could endanger their lives.)
He does not ell Jen that there is a bear in the area: poor
judgment; deceitfulness. (Jen has bear spray and a traffic flare
that they could use against the bear, but she is unaware of its
presence. The bear could kill someone. His behavior endangers their
lives.)
He does not investigate noises that Jen hears during their
first night in their tent: poor judgment. (His inaction could
endanger their lives.)
He sees a sapling's snapped-off branch, but ignores its
significance: poor judgment; recklessness; deceitfulness. (His
inaction could endanger their lives.)
Even after seeing the carcass of a dead deer indicating the
presence of a bear—and of a bear that is both starving (bears,
otherwise, don't eat meat—and predatory)—Alex refuses to leave
the park: poor judgment. (His decision could endanger their lives.)
He continues to hike, deeper into the forest, even after he
realizes he is lost: poor judgment; recklessness. (His action could
endanger their lives.)
He hastens up the trail ahead of Jen, leaving her vulnerable,
as they ascend the mountainside: carelessness, inconsideration. (His
inconsideration could endanger their lives.)
Even after the bear visits their campsite, Alex refuses to
leave the park: poor judgment; recklessness. (His refusal to leave
the park endangers their lives.)
Alex leaves his axe outside the tent: carelessness. (He
leaves a potential weapon behind, depriving himself of its use,
which endangers their lives.)
Source: showbizjunkies.com
Jen also makes several mistakes:
She does not insist that Alex accept a park map from the
ranger or accept one herself: poor judgment. (She and Alex could get
lost. Her behavior could endanger their lives.)
In Alex's absence, Jen invites Brad onto their campsite: poor
judgment. (Since she does not know Brad, Jen could be endangering
her and Alex's lives and could be putting herself in danger of being
raped.)
Jen does not insist that Alex make sure the “acorns” he
says are falling on their tent really are acorns: poor judgment.
(Her behavior could endanger their lives.)
Jen does not insist that Alex take her home after she sees
evidence of the nearby presence of a bear: poor judgment;
recklessness: poor judgment; recklessness. (Her behavior could
endanger their lives.)
Jen returns to their campsite after the bear has killed Alex
so she can retrieve the engagement ring he has shown her: poor
judgment; recklessness. (Her behavior could endanger her life.
lives.)
Source: anthonybehindthescenes.com
It seems that Jen's mistakes stem from her desire to support Alex
and to prevent damage to his ego and self-esteem, from her needs to
be friendly and to feel liked, and from her love of him.
Although she is a successful lawyer, while he plans to start a
landscaping service, she often defers to his judgment and to his
needs and desires, rather than pursuing or seeking to advance her
own.
Rather than insisting that he accept the map of the park that the
ranger offers him, Jen accepts his refusal, probably because she does
not want to embarrass Alex by casting doubts on his knowledge of the
park.
She invites Brad to join Alex and her because she is a friendly
person.
Alex professes to be an expert on hiking and camping, especially
at the park, which he implies he knows well. Jen probably refrains
from insisting that Alex check out the unfamiliar sounds she hears
while she and Alex are in their tent for the same reason that she
does not insist that he take a map from the ranger: she does not want
to embarrass Alex by casting doubts on his knowledge of the park.
It seems that, when it becomes clear they are, without doubt,
lost, Jen does not insist that Alex take her home after she sees
evidence of the nearby presence of a bear because she does she has
feelings for him and may feel sorry for him. Likewise, after Alex's
death, she returns to their campsite, despite the bear's presence, so
that she can retrieve the engagement ring he has shown her, because
she has feelings for Alex and wants a memento of his love for her.
Although Jen, like Alex, makes mistakes in judgment when she is
with Alex, she is not a woodman and the couple's survival is not
primarily her responsibility. In addition, she is not deceitful
toward Alex, as he is to her.
When she is alone, after Alex's death, her decisions are wise,
allowing her to survive the bear and the wilderness. The fact that
she makes no mistakes when she is alone suggests that her romantic
relationship with Alex clouded her judgment; without him, she makes
clear, rational, wise decisions and takes prudent, effective action,
which enables her to survive.
In adapting to his environment, Alex has developed traits which
serve his emotional needs, but he lacks adaptations that pertain to
practical, everyday matters, including traits related to analysis,
evaluation, and survival. He is overconfident. He seeks to impress
others, especially Jen. He wants to be the sole focus of Jen's
attention. He is deceitful, often hiding the truth from Jen regarding
their situation and the danger they face. He is careless at times and
reckless. He is immature. He is irresponsible.
In a different environment, such as Jen's house or the city, such
traits might not fail him, because his survival is protected by
institutions (art and culture, commercial and industrial enterprises,
economic systems, family, friends, government, hospitals, language,
legal systems, mass media, military forces, penal systems, schools,
scientific research laboratories, religion); organizations, such as
charities, emergency responders, and fraternal societies; an
infrastructure (energy, highways, railroads, rivers, warehouses).
Jen, on the other hand, although not without flaws of her own, is
cautious, mature, responsible, and resourceful. She is a thinker; she
analyzes, evaluates, and plans. In the city, society has
individuals' backs. In the wilderness, individuals need to be able to
take care of themselves. Those who can, as Jen does, are likely to
survive; those who cannot, as Alex does not, will probably die.
By putting to opposite characters side by side in an environment
different that their typical surroundings, Backcountry tests the
effectiveness of the respective characters' evolved adaptations. The
unfamiliar surroundings, the remoteness of the park, the rugged
terrain, the stranger Brad, and, of course, the bear all pose threats
or potential threats; each tests the evolved adaptations, or the
traits, and the behaviors of the couple. One perishes; the other
survives. The reason for one's failure and the other's success is
that Jen had evolved adaptations that are effective for survival in
the wilderness, whereas Alex has not. Without the support of society,
civilization, and culture, Alex cannot survive and dies; Jen can and
lives. The park is an environment, an arena, a laboratory, that puts
traits to the test. Jen passes, but Alex receives the Darwin Award.
Source: alenatedinvancouver.blogspot,com
Next post: Evolution, Psychology, and Horror, Part II
According to evolutionary
psychologists, human behavior evolved through adaptations that had
survival, including reproductive, value. Although not without its
critics, who see the school as seriously flawed, evolutionary
psychology may offer some insights of value to readers and writers of
horror fiction.
Leda Cosmides and John Tooby. Source: news.uscb.edu
According to evolutionary
psychologists Leda
Cosmides and John Tooby, the discipline regards the brain as “a
computer designed by natural selection to extract information from
the environment” and this organ generates the behavior of
individuals based on its “cognitive programs,” adaptations that
“produced behavior” that “enabled [our ancestors] to survive
and reproduce.”
Einstein's brain. Source: thespec.com
Therefore, to understand
what makes people tick, these programs must be understood and
explained. As a result of natural selection, the brain consists of
“different special[-]purpose programs” rather than having “a .
. . general architecture.” Finally, the description of the “evolved
computational architecture of our brains 'allows a systematic
understanding of cultural and social phenomena.'”
Psychological Methods. Source: slideshare.net
The method
of evolutionary psychology is not entirely scientific. After
detecting “apparent design in the world” (e. g., in the brain),
they seek to produce a “scenario” that suggests the selective
processes that could account for “the production of the trait that
exhibits [this] apparent design” and then put their hypotheses to
the test of “standard psychological methods.” Thus, their
approach seems part thought experiment, part scientific method and
has been challenged on both counts.
Waist-hip ratio in women. Source: ergo-log.com
For example, men, shown
illustrations of potential female mates exhibiting “varying
waist[-]hip ratios,” preferred those depicting “women with
waist/hip ratios closer to .7,” because hips wider than waists
suggested that the women who possessed them would be likely to be
more “fertile” and, as such, better able to “contribute to the
survival and reproduction of the organism.”
"Would you survive?" Source: thequiz.com
One theme of horror
fiction is the survival of the threat posed by the villain or
monster. Both novels and movies often show their characters' use of a
variety of attempts at, or methods of, survival, most of which prove
futile. Often, in the slasher sub-genre, the sole survivor of the
group's encounter with the antagonist is the so-called final girl.
There's a reason they're called "slashers'? Source: whatculture.com
These films implicitly
invite audiences to compare the methods of survival—i. e., the
behavior—of the characters: who did what to survive, and which one,
ultimately, succeeded. Why did she succeed? Why did each of the other
characters fail? Not only do slasher (and, of course, other types of
horror fiction and drama) thus provide models for analyzing and
evaluating both failed and successful survival adaptations, but the
slasher also offers a list, as it were, of each.
Let's take a look at three
horror movies that focus on the characters' attempts to survive the
threat of an antagonist. The first, Backcountry
(2014),
involves a predatory animal; the second, Final
Girl (2015),
features a band of men who hunt a woman for sport; the third, The
Exorcist (1973),
presents a supernatural threat. The first involves a “woman vs.
nature” plot; the second, a “woman vs. men” plot; the third, a
“man vs. supernatural monster” plot. Each involves a final girl
as the survivor of her respective threat.
When Christianity became
the dominant religion of the Western world in 313, beginning with
Emperor Constantine's proclamation of the Edict of Milan, new
explanations were provided as to the origins and natures of various
monsters for whom their origins and natures had differed during
per-Christian days. This post traces these developments with regard
to a few of the monsters that are staples, as it were, of horror
fiction.
The Dunwich Horror by Tatsuya Morino. Source: pinktentacle.com
For example, the Russian
Orthodox Church regarded vampires
as once been witches or who had rebelled against the faith (Reader's
Digest Association's
“Vampires Galore!” However, an account of vampires was included
in the second edition (1749) of Pope Benedict XIV's De
servorum Dei beatificatione et sanctorum canonizatione
suggested that vampires existed only in the imagination.
Portret van de theoloog Augustin Calmet by Nicholas Pitau. Source: Wikipedia
On the
other hand, French theologian Dom Augustine Calmet was of the opinion
that vampires, in fact, did exist, his research suggesting that “one
can hardly refuse to credit the belief which is held in those
countries, that these revenants come out of their tombs and produce
those effects which are proclaimed of them.”
The
opinion of the Pope and of Calmet seems to represent, in general, the
beliefs of the populace: either vampires were imaginary or they were
revenants (animated corpses returned from the grave).
A German woodcut of werewolf from 1722. Source: Wikipedia
The
Church's stance, as expressed in the fourth-century Capitulatum
Episcopi
was that belief in werewolves
marked one as an “infidel,” since God alone had the power to
transform one species, such as human beings, into another, such as
wolves.
During
the Middle Ages, however, theologians took their cue from Augustine,
who seemed to believe in the possibility of werewolves.
Illustration of werewolves from Werewolves of Ossory by Gervase of Tilbury. Source: Wikipedia
In
Werewolves
of Ossory (c.
1200), Gervase of Tilbury suggests that such human-animal
transformations, including of men and women into wolves, having
actually been witnessed a number of times, should not be lightly
discounted as having occurred.
Source: ebay.com
Other
medieval works contended that God punished sinful men and women by
transforming them into werewolves and assured readers that anyone
that the Roman Catholic Church excommunicated would become werewolves
(Ian Woodward, The
Werewolf Delusion).
Both God and saints had the power to effect the transformations of
humans into werewolves, as St. Patrick was alleged to have done in
regard to the Welsh King Vereticus.
Witches Sabbath by Francisco Goya. Source: reddit.com
According
to Protestant Christianity, the witch,
another monstrous figure, known to both the ancients and the people
of the Middle Ages, gains her power—and most witches are female—by
entering a contract with a demon (M. M. Drymon, Disguised
as the Devil: How Lyme Disease Created Witches and Changed History).
Although Christian explanations of vampires, werewolves,
and witches developed over many years, changing or emphasizing
certain various features over others at times, it is clear that, in
general, such creatures were products of dark magic or of sinful
behavior, such as rebelling against God, blasphemy or heresy,
entering contracts with demons, or practicing pagan faiths.
Sometimes, in demonstrating how to brainstorm about an essay topic, selecting horror movies, I ask students to name the titles of as many such movies as spring to mind (seldom a difficult feat for them, as the genre remains quite popular among young adults). Then, I ask them to identify the monster, or threat--the antagonist, to use the proper terminology--that appears in each of the films they have named. Again, this is usually a quick and easy task. Finally, I ask them to group the films’ adversaries into one of three possible categories: natural, paranormal, or supernatural. This is where the fun begins.
It’s a simple enough matter, usually, to identify the threats which fall under the “natural” label, especially after I supply my students with the scientific definition of “nature”: everything that exists as either matter or energy (which are, of course, the same thing, in different forms--in other words, the universe itself. The supernatural is anything which falls outside, or is beyond, the universe: God, angels, demons, and the like, if they exist. Mad scientists, mutant cannibals (and just plain cannibals), serial killers, and such are examples of natural threats. So far, so simple.
What about borderline creatures, though? Are vampires, werewolves, and zombies, for example, natural or supernatural? And what about Freddy Krueger? In fact, what does the word “paranormal” mean, anyway? If the universe is nature and anything outside or beyond the universe is supernatural, where does the paranormal fit into the scheme of things?
According to the Online Etymology Dictionary, the word “paranormal,” formed of the prefix “para,” meaning alongside, and “normal,” meaning “conforming to common standards, usual,” was coined in 1920. The American Heritage Dictionary defines “paranormal” to mean “beyond the range of normal experience or scientific explanation.” In other words, the paranormal is not supernatural--it is not outside or beyond the universe; it is natural, but, at the present, at least, inexplicable, which is to say that science cannot yet explain its nature. The same dictionary offers, as examples of paranormal phenomena, telepathy and “a medium’s paranormal powers.”
Wikipedia offers a few other examples of such phenomena or of paranormal sciences, including the percentages of the American population which, according to a Gallup poll, believes in each phenomenon, shown here in parentheses: psychic or spiritual healing (54), extrasensory perception (ESP) (50), ghosts (42), demons (41), extraterrestrials (33), clairvoyance and prophecy (32), communication with the dead (28), astrology (28), witchcraft (26), reincarnation (25), and channeling (15); 36 percent believe in telepathy.
As can be seen from this list, which includes demons, ghosts, and witches along with psychics and extraterrestrials, there is a confusion as to which phenomena and which individuals belong to the paranormal and which belong to the supernatural categories. This confusion, I believe, results from the scientism of our age, which makes it fashionable for people who fancy themselves intelligent and educated to dismiss whatever cannot be explained scientifically or, if such phenomena cannot be entirely rejected, to classify them as as-yet inexplicable natural phenomena. That way, the existence of a supernatural realm need not be admitted or even entertained. Scientists tend to be materialists, believing that the real consists only of the twofold unity of matter and energy, not dualists who believe that there is both the material (matter and energy) and the spiritual, or supernatural. If so, everything that was once regarded as having been supernatural will be regarded (if it cannot be dismissed) as paranormal and, maybe, if and when it is explained by science, as natural. Indeed, Sigmund Freud sought to explain even God as but a natural--and in Freud’s opinion, an obsolete--phenomenon.
Meanwhile, among skeptics, there is an ongoing campaign to eliminate the paranormal by explaining them as products of ignorance, misunderstanding, or deceit. Ridicule is also a tactic that skeptics sometimes employ in this campaign. For example, The Skeptics’ Dictionarycontends that the perception of some “events” as being of a paranormal nature may be attributed to “ignorance or magical thinking.” The dictionary is equally suspicious of each individual phenomenon or “paranormal science” as well. Concerning psychics’ alleged ability to discern future events, for example, The Skeptic’s Dictionary quotes Jay Leno (“How come you never see a headline like 'Psychic Wins Lottery'?”), following with a number of similar observations:
Psychics don't rely on psychics to warn them of impending disasters. Psychics don't predict their own deaths or diseases. They go to the dentist like the rest of us. They're as surprised and disturbed as the rest of us when they have to call a plumber or an electrician to fix some defect at home. Their planes are delayed without their being able to anticipate the delays. If they want to know something about Abraham Lincoln, they go to the library; they don't try to talk to Abe's spirit. In short, psychics live by the known laws of nature except when they are playing the psychic game with people.
In An Encyclopedia of Claims, Frauds, and Hoaxes of the Occult and Supernatural, James Randi, a magician who exercises a skeptical attitude toward all things alleged to be paranormal or supernatural, takes issue with the notion of such phenomena as well, often employing the same arguments and rhetorical strategies as The Skeptic’s Dictionary.
In short, the difference between the paranormal and the supernatural lies in whether one is a materialist, believing in only the existence of matter and energy, or a dualist, believing in the existence of both matter and energy and spirit. If one maintains a belief in the reality of the spiritual, he or she will classify such entities as angels, demons, ghosts, gods, vampires, and other threats of a spiritual nature as supernatural, rather than paranormal, phenomena. He or she may also include witches (because, although they are human, they are empowered by the devil, who is himself a supernatural entity) and other natural threats that are energized, so to speak, by a power that transcends nature and is, as such, outside or beyond the universe. Otherwise, one is likely to reject the supernatural as a category altogether, identifying every inexplicable phenomenon as paranormal, whether it is dark matter or a teenage werewolf. Indeed, some scientists dedicate at least part of their time to debunking allegedly paranormal phenomena, explaining what natural conditions or processes may explain them, as the author of The Serpent and the Rainbow explains the creation of zombies by voodoo priests.
Based upon my recent reading of Tzvetan Todorov's The Fantastic: A Structural Approach to the Fantastic, I add the following addendum to this essay.
According to Todorov:
The fantastic. . . lasts only as long as a certain hesitation [in deciding] whether or not what they [the reader and the protagonist] perceive derives from "reality" as it exists in the common opinion. . . . If he [the reader] decides that the laws of reality remain intact and permit an explanation of the phenomena described, we can say that the work belongs to the another genre [than the fantastic]: the uncanny. If, on the contrary, he decides that new laws of nature must be entertained to account for the phenomena, we enter the genre of the marvelous (The Fantastic: A Structural Approach to a Literary Genre, 41).
Todorov further differentiates these two categories by characterizing the uncanny as “the supernatural explained” and the marvelous as “the supernatural accepted” (41-42).
Interestingly, the prejudice against even the possibility of the supernatural’s existence which is implicit in the designation of natural versus paranormal phenomena, which excludes any consideration of the supernatural, suggests that there are no marvelous phenomena; instead, there can be only the uncanny. Consequently, for those who subscribe to this view, the fantastic itself no longer exists in this scheme, for the fantastic depends, as Todorov points out, upon the tension of indecision concerning to which category an incident belongs, the natural or the supernatural. The paranormal is understood, by those who posit it, in lieu of the supernatural, as the natural as yet unexplained.
And now, back to a fate worse than death: grading students’ papers.
Anyone who becomes an aficionado of anything tends, eventually, to develop criteria for elements or features of the person, place, or thing of whom or which he or she has become enamored. Horror fiction--admittedly not everyone’s cuppa blood--is no different (okay, maybe it’s a little different): it, too, appeals to different fans, each for reasons of his or her own. Of course, in general, book reviews, the flyleaves of novels, and movie trailers suggest what many, maybe even most, readers of a particular type of fiction enjoy, but, right here, right now, I’m talking more specifically--one might say, even more eccentrically. In other words, I’m talking what I happen to like, without assuming (assuming makes an “ass” of “u” and “me”) that you also like the same. It’s entirely possible that you will; on the other hand, it’s entirely likely that you won’t.
Anyway, this is what I happen to like in horror fiction:
Small-town settings in which I get to know the townspeople, both the good, the bad, and the ugly. For this reason alone, I’m a sucker for most of Stephen King’s novels. Most of them, from 'Salem's Lot to Under the Dome, are set in small towns that are peopled by the good, the bad, and the ugly. Part of the appeal here, granted, is the sense of community that such settings entail.
Isolated settings, such as caves, desert wastelands, islands, mountaintops, space, swamps, where characters are cut off from civilization and culture and must survive and thrive or die on their own, without assistance, by their wits and other personal resources. Many are the examples of such novels and screenplays, but Alien, The Shining, The Descent, Desperation, and The Island of Dr. Moreau, are some of the ones that come readily to mind.
Total institutions as settings. Camps, hospitals, military installations, nursing homes, prisons, resorts, spaceships, and other worlds unto themselves are examples of such settings, and Sleepaway Camp, Coma, The Green Mile, and Aliens are some of the novels or films that take place in such settings.
Anecdotal scenes--in other words, short scenes that showcase a character--usually, an unusual, even eccentric, character. Both Dean Koontz and the dynamic duo, Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child, excel at this, so I keep reading their series (although Koontz’s canine companions frequently--indeed, almost always--annoy, as does his relentless optimism).
Atmosphere, mood, and tone. Here, King is king, but so is Bentley Little. In the use of description to terrorize and horrify, both are masters of the craft.
A bit of erotica (okay, okay, sex--are you satisfied?), often of the unusual variety. Sex sells, and, yes, sex whets my reader’s appetite. Bentley Little is the go-to guy for this spicy ingredient, although Koontz has done a bit of seasoning with this spice, too, in such novels as Lightning and Demon Seed (and, some say, Hung).
Believable characters. Stephen King, Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child, and Dan Simmons are great at creating characters that stick to readers’ ribs.
Innovation. Bram Stoker demonstrates it, especially in his short story “Dracula’s Guest,” as does H. P. Lovecraft, Edgar Allan Poe, Shirley Jackson, and a host of other, mostly classical, horror novelists and short story writers. For an example, check out my post on Stoker’s story, which is a real stoker, to be sure. Stephen King shows innovation, too, in ‘Salem’s Lot, The Shining, It, and other novels. One might even argue that Dean Koontz’s something-for-everyone, cross-genre writing is innovative; he seems to have been one of the first, if not the first, to pen such tales.
Technique. Check out Frank Peretti’s use of maps and his allusions to the senses in Monster; my post on this very topic is worth a look, if I do say so myself, which, of course, I do. Opening chapters that accomplish a multitude of narrative purposes (not usually all at once, but successively) are attractive, too, and Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child are as good as anyone, and better than many, at this art.
A connective universe--a mythos, if you will, such as both H. P. Lovecraft and Stephen King, and, to a lesser extent, Dean Koontz, Bentley Little, and even Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child have created through the use of recurring settings, characters, themes, and other elements of fiction.
A lack of pretentiousness. Dean Koontz has it, as do Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child, Bentley Little, and (to some extent, although he has become condescending and self-indulgent of late, Stephen King); unfortunately, both Dan Simmons and Robert McCammon have become too self-important in their later works, Simmons almost to the point of becoming unreadable. Come on, people, you’re writing about monsters--you should be humble.
Longevity. Writers who have been around for a while usually get better, Stephen King, Dan Simmons, and Robert McCammon excepted.
Pacing. Neither too fast nor too slow. Dean Koontz is good, maybe the best, here, of contemporary horror writers.