I finished up the novel Carrie at the end of last week, officially reaching the first goal of 'Scott Reads Stephen King' which was, appropriately: read the first book. SPOILERS: I really loved the ending, the way Carrie almost mercifily did away with her mother by slowing her heart (a moment that was not represented in either of the film versions) and also Sue's mental connection to Carrie as Carrie slipped away (something that probably couldn't have been put in the films). These moments really made the whole book worth the read, being as there were no surprises coming plot-wise. So, one down, over fifty to go.
After I finished the book, I watched the new film version of Carrie. It was about what I expected. There was definitely a few things from the book that were included in this version that I appreciated (Carrie's birth, the raining of stones), but overall I found it to be like a lot of 'horror' that has come out of the Hollywood chute in the last few years. (And I know there's a lot of different kinds of horror going on at the moment, I'm just going to address the category that this new Carrie flick falls into.)
Some recent 'Horror' has become almost an escapist fantasy that bears no resemblance to the messy horror that actually scares people. The Twilight-espue re-imagining of vampires and the subsequent change in style of horror seems to have redefined the genre in a way that I (personally) am not super into. It is evident in the Carrie remake as much as it shows it's dirty face in schlock like Vampire Diaries or even True Blood.
These productions are slick looking junk with pretty people all wandering around in a high school girl's wet dream, making each other hot. I'm not afraid of a world where the digital photography is so pretty. It looks more like The Secret Garden than Texas Chainsaw. I'm not afraid for my characters living in this world because I know that it's just a movie and I can't ever escape that fact.
Likewise, the actors playing these characters, with their chiseled abs and bleach white smiles conjure absolutely no sympathy or worry as they strut through their scenes. Even that girl from Kick Ass seems too sure of herself in the role of Carrie White. I don't really care about the characters these actors are creating because they aren't realistic people, so I'm damn sure not afraid for them. Nobody actually looks like that.
I guess that the audience for modern horror has fundamentally changed. Maybe you can't make kids jump in their seats anymore, but it just doesn't seem like people are even trying. The things that made old school horror scary all had to do with avoiding predictability. The horror movies that get remembered create an environment where anything might happen. That's why messy movies like Texas Chainsaw get remembered. It's because that world is ugly. The people in it are real and confused and vulnerable to the terror that awaits them. And when the horror comes, the anticipation that has built in the audience's mind is suddenly and brutally realized. Leatherface smacks you with a hammer. Boom! We expected something bad, were afraid that it was coming, and it's still horrible. And it's horrible because it's happening to a person that very easily could have been us.
Likewise, this holds true with a little cleaner flick like Nightmare on Elm St. It's scary because we care about the people in the film (except maybe Tina) and we realize that there is no escaping Freddy. Everyone has to sleep. That could be US! We know that something bad is coming, that's really why we're here, and when Tina gets cut open and starts to swing around in mid air, we have been ushered by the filmmakers into being afraid for our new friends in the movie and for ourselves.
These new films and tv show have moved away from all of that. The environment created here is very nearly one that make the viewer say, "Man, I wish I WAS Carrie/Bella/Whatever-Other-Bull-Crap-Character-Is-'In-Danger'." And it's because these characters, for whatever supernatural force might be after them, still live in Kardashian-land. It's a world filled with non-stop pilates instructors, hunky dudes, swimming pools and mountain hikes with sparkly vampires during the day. It's not scary. I would totally take a windshield to the face to live in that world. And then, when the scares come, it's all just CG bull crap that doesn't seem real anyway. So, unless ILM is lurking after me in the middle of the day, I ain't scared of the events that go down and dust the characters that I have no bond with.
The reason that King's early works are so (actually) scary has to do with the same principals: attachment and anticipation. I've just started 'Salem's Lot and he's already gone to work on just those two things. The prologue reveals that The Lot has been obliterated. Something bad has happened there. Anticipation. Then, we go right into character development. I'm already behind the poor, flawed Ben and his rapidly growing group of fellow townspeople. I'm worrying about them because Mr. King is good at causing me to do so. Just like I worried about the Coreys in Lost Boys or John Harker in Dracula. Because I identify with them, I care about them, and I know that something bad is on the horizon for them and I'm not totally sure they'll make it through.
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