Written By: Barney Nutall

From German Expressionism to elevated horror, Sorbet peers through its fingers at cinema's scariest genre

Largely snubbed during awards season
and historically subject to heavy-handed censorship, horror is (and remains) a maligned, misunderstood genre. Its position however, as the persona non grata of cinema, has led it to develop a scrappy quality, allowing for unbridled creativity, whether or not that pushes at the limits of good taste.

From its slow-burn beginnings to its sleazy ‘80s adolescence, Sorbet delves into the genre’s many mutations…

CREATING CREEPY

What makes a horror film? Early examples focused on generating fear through unnerving visuals. A product of the uncertainty of the post-WWI world, German Expressionism birthed an artistic movement with a focus on razor-sharp shadows and distorted settings. Horror cinema adopted this style, most famously in F.W. Murnau’s Nosferatu (1922) in which the silhouette of Max Schreck’s vampire Count Orlok creeping up the spiral staircase with his spindly fingers curled set the standard for what scary should look and, more importantly, feel like.

In the 1960s, Alfred Hitchcock popularized how scary should feel with the iconic Psycho (1960). Eschewing the previous decades of cinematic cereal-box monsters, Hitchcock chose to shock rather than spook the audience with the shower stabbing of Janet Leigh’s Marion Crane by using 52 jump cuts to avoid censure whilst replicating the kineticism of the attack in cinematic form; later echoed in the caffeinated editing of horror films like Saw.

Scored using Bernard Herrmanns jarring strings, Psycho cemented the feeling of horror. While it didn’t invent the fetishization of women in peril, the film did popularize it, influencing the glove-handed murder of ladies in the ‘60s and ‘70s Italian subgenre of giallo. As director Dario Argento stated: “If they [women] have a good face and figure, I would much prefer to watch them being murdered than an ugly girl or man.” His words would signal a shift in horror from spooky to sleazy.

VIDEO NASTIES

Savvy marketing declared that audiences had vomited in fear after seeing William Friedkin’s 1973 opus The Exorcist. Granted, the pea-soup spewed out by Linda Blair’s Regan wasn’t appetizing, but it raised a new question around the genre, which was: is gross horror scary?

Conservatives in ‘80s Britain thought so, with Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher and teacher-turned-conservative activist Mary Whitehouse whipping up a moral panic about violent video tapes corrupting young people.

A list of ‘video nasties’ was drafted, banning some of the most ‘depraved’ films on tape. The likes of The Driller Killer (Abel Ferrara, 1979) and Cannibal Holocaust (Ruggero Deodato, 1980) were banned for their ketchup-blood kills which today seem dated. Unsurprisingly, censure ensured the legacy of these tapes as cult watches, revered by contemporary fans as a middle finger to moralism.

This bled into the ‘90s, when horror became more about spectacle than scariness. The feeling that Hitchcock had popularized was sidelined for geysers of blood, a shift defined by the slasher subgenre where hormonal teens met increasingly gory deaths at the hands of weapon-wielding maniacs. From Friday the 13th (Sean S. Cunningham, 1980) to Wes Craven’s meta-horror Scream (1996), slasher films encouraged laughs rather than gasps, allowing for horror to sneak into the mainstream and opening the world up to amateur auteurs.

TERROR TODAY

The noughties are largely remembered for tacky horror remakes, but from these ashes arose The Blair Witch Project (Eduardo Sánchez and Daniel Myrick, 1999). This ingeniously cheap fake-documentary used low-quality camcorder effects to camouflage the terrors stalking three teens lost in the woods. Establishing the found-footage subgenre, The Blair Witch Project swerved slasher film tropes, choosing to show as little as possible for maximum creepiness. This led to a $248 million intake at the box office, not to mention an ongoing lawsuit over the payment to its three stars.

Despite the infamy, horror movies easily turn a profit. Cheap production costs and flashy concepts bleed dollars from this punctured vein. The Blair Witch Project adopted digital technology to maintain low costs whilst integrating the cheap tech into the story, making the film a rarity: authentically scary and profitable.

As horror moved into the 2010s, this same model was adopted with an emphasis on aesthetics, echoing German Expressionism. A24, the hipster’s favorite film studio, reshaped horror by nurturing masters of atmosphere like Robert Eggers and Ari Aster. Films like Midsommar (Aster, 2019) and The Lighthouse (Eggers, 2019) boasted bold visuals, meaty roles, and heady mixes of flower crowns and dead boyfriends, and masturbation and dead seagulls, making for films which were proud to be labeled horror.

 

This pride is reflected in contemporary auteurs who are providing long-overdue alternative takes on the genre. Jordan Peele took home an Oscar for 2017’s Get Out, in which protagonist Chris (Daniel Kaluuya) defied the ‘black guy dies first’ horror trope. Meanwhile, Rose Glass’s films explore women with dark desires and darker intentions, making proudly feminine horror such as the unjustly panned Karyn Kusama- directed Diablo Cody-penned horror-comedy Jennifer’s Body in 2009. Similarly, queer voices, such as in Jane Schoenbrun’s I Saw the TV Glow (2024), are reclaiming horror from its predominantly heteronormative legacy.

Visually striking, grotesquely gory, or downright exploitative, horror has morphed like The Thing into its highly stylized, atmosphere-heavy current form. Evidently, it isn’t just about scaring punters. Horror is innovative, a Pandora’s box of terror brimming with originality. The question is, who dares open it?

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