I love horror, and recently I’ve been inspired by some features and shorts that have really terrified me. Try reading these one sentence horror stories without something stirring inside you. But I’m fascinated with why we get scared, and how to do it, so I studied a few films and recalled what I learnt at uni into this short post.
It’s a limited study. I’ve only referenced a few films here, so perhaps these tips don’t work in every story or aren’t needed, but there’s one thing I’m certain of. And that’s the connection between audience and character, and how audiences are now seeing themselves in onscreen characters and assuming these characters understands horror stories as they do. Spoiler alert on the shorts, but I’ve linked to them so you can watch them before reading. Let’s start with a nice little anecdote.
- Something weird happens
When I was younger, I used to get home from school and go straight upstairs to play on my PS2 (back in the day!). I’d flick on the landing light, and then it would blow. I’d switch on the one in my room, and it’d blow. I had a second light switch in my room at the time, so I’d try that. Fizzle. The bathroom. Pop. None of the lights seemed to work, and my stomach would fill with dread. Was there a fault in the system? A power surge? Or was there something malicious about to pounce?
In horror films, we see something similar. In Ring, the TV mysteriously turns on. In John Carpenter’s, The Fog, a strange fog engulfs the boat and the instruments stop working. In The Woman in Black, the toys work by themselves. It’s a sign the normal rules of the world have been violated, and a monster might be on its way.
- The act of looking
What do most of us do in a horror film? We hide. Be it behind a cushion or craftily behind the arms of our date (god bless horror!). We anticipate seeing a monster and being scared. That’s why horror makes use of wide open spaces, often drawing our focus one direction whilst something stirs in the background. Remember the scene in The Woman in Black when Daniel Radcliffe is asleep at the desk and our beloved ghost creeps towards him out of the background? Seeing equals death, so to keep us on edge, filmmakers create lots of possible places where it could be.
I used to hide a lot from monsters in my childhood. I’d hide under my covers as I was afraid of monsters in the dark coming to get me. Hiding from things coming to get us is a hugely primal thing. So sometimes, the characters act just like the audience. In the short film, Lights Out, a woman hides under the covers to prevent her seeing the monster, but in the end it still gets her. In The Grudge, a woman hides in her bed, and the monster is in there with her! The hiding place is now unsafe. But this links to something further, which is the idea of the everyday turning against us. After Lights Out I didn’t want to go to bed. My childhood fear of the dark had returned. After Ring, I had to cover my TV. After The Grudge, I hated staircases.
What can writers and filmmakers learn here? We can write with the audience in mind. What will they be afraid of at home? Where will they hide as they watch the film? We can put these things on screen as a psychological trick to make audiences afraid. The audience become accustomed to these tropes and the next time they’re in the cinema, they remember from their film experiences and their after film experiences what is safe and what isn’t. Their fears are on the screen waiting.
- The Monsters have rules
In The Fog, the fog comes between midnight and 1 am. Inside the fog are ghosts that can kill you. It gets cold when it comes. The fog has a mind of its own and can interact with the world. This is what we learn in the opening scene. Its establishes the creatures limited powers to give the characters a fighting chance, can be the basis of backstory and give a clue to the solution, and build all important suspense.
- Suspense
Once the rules have been established, it’s time for the real scares. In Lights Out, the rules are simple. Turn out the lights and the monster comes. The woman runs to her room. Then we learn the monster can interact with our world when it isn’t seen. So it turns out the lights and comes running and the woman hides in her bed. But the light is on, so she is safe. Until the light starts to short because it isn’t plugged in properly. The woman has to escape the safety of her hiding place and reach out to get the plug. AMAZING. We have conflict. She must plug in the light, BUT to do so she must face the possibility of seeing the monster, which means death. It’s the anticipation mixed with uncertainty. Something will happen. She will either be killed or get the light, but we’re not sure which or how it will happen.
The same thing happens in the sixty second short, Tuck Me In. A son asks his father to check under the bed for monsters. He does. And his son is under the bed. Something strange happens. Then the boy says, “daddy, there’s something in my bed.” Urg, what is there, we think. It’s more likely than not a monster (or his identical twin), but what does the father HAVE TO do now. He’s bent down, so he must get up. He MUST look at what’s in the bed. Suspense is created. He’s got to move at some point, but that means he has to look, possibly see a monster and be killed. COOL.
- Motivation
In Tuck Me In, dad’s motivation to look was more or less he had to as he had already bent down and was stuck. In Lights Out, the motivation to look was life or death. In a few scenes in The Fog, people just go to the door when this huge fog has engulfed the house, as if being close to something out of the ordinary was a good idea. And it totally destroys the moment. Audiences are clever now. We understand that something odd means a monster, and we think the characters should know that too. I’m yet to see (please tell me if you know a film with this!!) a character hear a noise and run, lock the door and refuse point blank to answer it.
In American Horror Story, a boy goes down into the big dark basement to get back his toy truck. Is that motivated. Sort of, but really? We know that’s a bad idea. Is this kid stupid? Why can’t he get daddy? But should daddy get it? I guess we’re moving into the realms of conflict (oh goodie!). Dad is scared too, but his family are right there saying, “seriously, you’re scared of the basement?” Well, I think daddy needs to go down there to prove he’s not a total wuss. Of course it depends on character. If he’s not scared of anything, maybe he marches in. But I just think in the realms of horror that the audience character connection is so high that if the audience are scared, there’s a good chance we assume the characters should be scared. Maybe that macho character is scared but doesn’t want the world to see it?
When I was writing a horror short, my biggest note was on motivation. Why does the boy venture into the big dark cavern?? To find the monster, of course… but that’s not enough. In the end, his baby sister is kidnapped and he is the only one who can save her, and he has to muster the courage to venture into the darkness.
This is might just be me, but I think this post-modern meta-textual vibe is a part of horror now. No more can characters not be afraid out of ignorance. “I’ve never seen a monster so I didn’t know the basement was dangerous.” They know where the monster lives just as much as we do. That’s not to say everyone believes in ghosts and monsters. They can be sceptics, but perhaps still irrationally scared of big dark and scary places. As storytellers we can use this to effect with a combination of techniques. Create monster rules, and generate conflict by a character being motivated to enter the realm of the monster and face certain death. That’s my take on writing good horror. Please share yours in the comments!
The Story Fox 