Why Do Most Horror Movies Suck?

I know that this article is going to make some people mad. The horror genre has an admittedly nice and diverse variety of IPs with some very (very, very) dedicated fans, and I am well aware of the fact that there are some very, very good horror films out there. If you're a fan of these movies, power to you, my friend, and go read my article on "Get Out" before you think of me as dismissive of the horror genre as a whole. I know for a solid fact that some genuinely great horror movies have been made. Movies the likes of "Psycho," "The Shining," "Alien," "Night of the Living Dead," and "The Silence of the Lambs" have thrilled and chilled audiences for years while also delivering substance that cynical, heartless critics like myself appreciate. Some other excellent horror films that have flown more under the radar than some of the other titles I listed above are movies the likes of "The Black Phone" and "Don't Breath." However, I don't think it's too much of a leap to say that the horror genre, while occasionally producing some genuine gems, is probably responsible for giving us a larger load of absolute turds than any other genre out there. But why is this? Why exactly are horror films generally less consistent than other types of movies? Why can't we make a "Shawshank Redemption" of horror films? Well, to state it simply, it's because horror movies, generally speaking, tend to rely on some really bad narrative and characterization habits that other genres don't. I want to discuss some of those today.

The first and most obvious bad trait that horror movies are notorious for is, simply put, absolutely horrendous characterization. I can't think of many horror films I've seen where I genuinely cared about the characters in the movie. Even some of the best horror films ever made, films like "Psycho," lacked empathy for the characters inhabiting their worlds. I mean, for all of its flaws, "The Black Phone" actually broke this pattern quite effectively. We actually learn to like and root for the protagonists of the world Ethan Hawke so competently crafted. We want Finney to escape The Grabber because we know a few things about him: first, he's an underdog who is often bullied at school. Secondly, we see that other characters in the film aren't running around screaming as a murderer hunts them. No. Instead, they sincerely care about what happens to Finney and also display genuine emotions, so we learn to do so as well. However, this is something that is lacking in most other horror movies. The characters that inhabit these worlds aren't even characters, strictly speaking. Instead, they're glorified bags of blood for whatever killer is making their rounds on the block tonight to messily blot out. This is about as fundamental a design flaw as I can think of. The heart of a movie is its characters. In a good movie, characters inform the bigger ideas of the plot and, more importantly, the direction the story heads. And if your characters are weak, then your movie isn't going to end up anywhere good. This is, at least in my humble opinion, the main reason why horror is the weakest genre. We don't care about the characters in this world because, if we're being honest, the writers didn't either.

The next reason horror films tend to suck is because they are almost always a one-trick pony. Now, what do I mean by that? Well, in the world of writing, storytelling, and filmmaking, there is a term you'll hear thrown out a lot: "emotional center." People can talk all they want about the moving parts of a film, and that's all fine and good. We need to talk about that kind of thing because it's important. However, the single most important thing about a movie, the thing that audiences and critics alike will both take away, is how a given movie made them feel. Horror movies obviously tend to rely on fear. Often, they can evoke fear from an audience very effectively and efficiently. However, this seems to be the only emotion they are capable of evoking. Think about this: when was the last time a horror movie made you feel sad? What about happy? Angry? How about surprised instead of merely shocked? This is another major flaw that most horror movies haven't been able to overcome: they are unable to elicit any emotion other than fear, and so the emotional core of these films ends up being one-dimensional. Don't get me wrong: there is a place for fear in movies. We should be taught to fear whatever villains are being portrayed, no matter which genre they inhabit. However, if the only emotion you can snatch from your audience is fear, not only is this methodology lazy, but it also becomes monotonous as the audience grows more and more numb to it.

The next reason horror movies tend to be really bad is the insane number of sequels that get made. The tenth "Saw" movie just got released. Yes. The tenth. And even if this was the only flaw in this poorly conceived narrative strategy, we need to consider something else: the unbelievably stupid logic horror movies use to justify making more sequels. The logic surrounding horror movie sequels oftentimes makes "somehow Palpatine returned" look good. How many times has the villain of a horror movie seemingly died, only to somehow come back in a contrived, cliched, and incredibly forced way? Look no further than the "Halloween" franchise. In "Halloween II," Michael Myers gets shot and blown up. In "Halloween 4," he is hit by a truck and shot something like 20 times. In "Halloween 6," he gets hanged. In "Halloween H20," he literally loses his head. And then, in "Halloween: Resurrection," poor Michael gets electrocuted and burned. I will never forget watching "Halloween Ends" with some of my friends in college during my freshman year and seeing the body of Michael Myers get ground up in an industrial-size shredder. We were all laughing our heads off at the sheer absurdity and forced seriousness of the scene, and I can't help but wonder how Universal is going to justify bringing him back for another sequel in 15 years or so when they need to make a quick buck. Maybe this Michael was an imposter, and the real Michael Myers is still out there. I wouldn't doubt it.

There are two other genres of film that are very similar in tone to horror films out there, and those genres are psychological and crime thrillers. And unironically, these genres tend to be far more horrifying than actual horror movies. I will never forget the chills I got up and down my spine when I first heard the mentally tortured groan of a man who identified himself only as "Sam" calling into a local radio station in David Fincher's "Zodiac." That scene still scares me today. And granted, there's nothing truly physically awful about this scene. No one's getting cut down with a chainsaw in brutal fashion. No one's running through a dark house with a psycho killer chasing them. No one's guts are getting spilled on the floor. This scene even takes place in a rather clinical talk show studio. So why is it so much scarier than just about any horror movie out there? The answer is simple: atmosphere. Horror movies care neither about what happens to their characters nor about what happens around them. If you want a real reaction from your audience, you need to craft an atmosphere that feels real and visceral. And this is something that psychological thrillers do so much better than horror movies. They care about crafting a world that feels lived in. I already mentioned "Zodiac," but two other thriller films that successfully craft absorbing, dark, and engrossing atmospheres are "Se7en," another David Fincher film, and "Prisoners." These movies are more horrifying than most horror movies because, as any experienced filmmaker or film student will tell you, the threat of violence in a film is always more arresting than actual violence. Back to this particular scene from "Zodiac" for a moment. Yes, this call actually happened in real life, and while some creative liberties were taken (and it also turned out that the caller was an imposter, although the film does recognize this), we already knew what the killer was capable of. We didn't need him to run into the television studio with a chainsaw buzzing to scare us. All we needed was to hear his voice and be reminded of what the killer, even if the real culprit was someone else, was capable of doing. And do I even need to mention that basement scene in "Zodiac?" If you know, you know. This is what true horror is: perfecting a subtly horrifying tone and running with it, as opposed to leaning on repeated horrifying actions. Jump scares can be used effectively, but if you use them too often, they become less and less effective each time.

I want to discuss one very particular aspect of horror movie plots that are often very bad: endings. Horror movies may do well enough while building up tension, but they almost always seem to fall flat in the end. But why is this? Well, it's for a very simple reason. Remember how I said that horror movies don't build characters effectively? In the third act of just about every movie, this is the point where everything is on the line. The reason third acts often tend to be so impactful is that we know well enough from watching enough movies that we'll probably have to say goodbye to some characters we've grown quite attached to. The same reason third acts often work well in other genres is the same reason they work poorly in horror movies. We are almost never taught to care about the characters, so why would we care about what happens to them in the climax of the film? On top of that, horror movies are often very exposition-heavy towards their endings at the expense of emotional attachment. In simpler terms, they trade emotional beats in the name of trying to explain everything. And it's not wrong to want to make things make sense in a movie. However, if trying to make something make sense comes at the expense of a much-needed emotional pay-off, you're better off letting the audience leave the theater with some questions than you are letting them leave without making them feel anything. Not to mention that it's hard to feel anything for the cardboard cutouts horror movies prop up to us as characters.

And finally, at the end of the day, horror is ultimately a rather cheap genre. It reaches for easy, obvious solutions to narrative and emotional problems, and this aspect of the genre tends to attract inexperienced writers and directors who want an easy-out instead of taking the time to write a more narratively airtight story. Horror movies bank on fear rather than taking the time to craft compelling characters and rich storylines. And the sad part of this is that people have kind of accepted the fact that horror movies are, by and large, quite bad. And they're fine with that. And you know what, that's OK. It's OK to enjoy something that isn't objectively good. However, this ensures that people making horror movies have no incentive to try and make them better. This is a sad attitude to have. I wasn't exactly a fan of the horror genre even before I learned how to write properly, to say nothing of where I am now. And maybe one day, this stereotype will be proven wrong. Perhaps one day, horror movies will be the cream of the crop in the landscape of filmmaking. But for now, they're too often the worst of the worst of what we as filmmakers have to offer. And until they break some of these horrendous habits that have been festering for years, I doubt they'll get much better.

But hey, I'd be lying if I said that the "Halloween" franchise wasn't, at the very least, just a little bit of fun.

Ephesians 5:11