Editorials
Terror, Horror, and the Philosophy Behind ‘The Witch’
*Warning: Spoilers are coming*
The Witch has officially been out over a week now for wide audiences and to some surprise, it hasn’t been received quite as well by horror fans as critics expected. But why? Well, the resounding answer seems to be that it wasn’t “scary” or worse that it was “boring”. But I don’t buy it. I saw it, loved it, and when I was walking to my car I had a twinge of uncertainty as to what might be lurking around the corner. The Witch is a film that commands repeat viewings to really dissect it and I plan on doing just that to catch little things I may have missed.
But why did critics like myself, other writers here at BD, and audiences at Sundance find it to be fantastic but not the wide audience? I have several theories but one that strikes me as the most interesting is the idea of terror vs. horror. It was born of gothic literature and is thus a literary concept but it has been translated to the screen without much explanation. At basic definition horror is the feeling of revulsion after something frightening has happened and terror is the building dread the precedes the frightening scene.
The idea of Terror vs Horror was first proposed by Gothic writer Anne Radcliffe who concluded the indeterminate context of events that could be potentially harmful terrorizes the reader, or in this case, the viewer, and the payout of horror comes after. This is expertly shown in several scenes in Egger’s film but the one that stands out to me the most involves Kathrine. Shortly after her eldest son, Caleb dies she sees him and his already deceased baby brother Samuel in her room. We know this is the devil’s doing right off the bat but Kathrine is overwrought with despair and is quick to believe they truly are there. As I sat in my seat watching this hellish scene unfold I was bracing myself for whatever came and hoped Eggers wouldn’t cut away at the last moment. And he didn’t. Instead, we got the horror of a grieving mother thinking she is nursing her dead baby but in reality, her nipple is being torn off by a crow.
The difference between Terror and Horror is the difference between awful apprehension and sickening realization: between the smell of death and stumbling against a corpse. -Devendra Varma The Gothic Flame
“But this is a movie, not gothic literature!” While that technically is correct it is also a very one-dimensional look at the genre. In a recent interview with Rue Morgue, Eggers reveals he is a total nerd for Colonial literature and has studied all of the journals and books available on the subject of witchcraft so it is entirely fair to say The Witch is a visual form of this literature like, say, Arthur Miller’s “The Crucible” but with more emphasis on terror by making the witches real. From almost the very beginning we know witches are real and we aren’t going to be taken for a ride on the will they won’t they train. Knowing this, coupled with the almost Shining like score and the stifling use of religion makes the audience dread what’s coming to Thomasin and her family. All the praying in the world can’t help this family which inevitably turns them against each other. And the fact that this is really how people lived and thought not so long ago is terrifying in and of itself.
Watching children suffer in this film is really where the dread builds. Caleb going into the woods to help his family find food only to be seduced and inevitably tormented and killed by the witch taps into the parenting side of the brain. I don’t have kids but watching a 12-ish-year-old boy who is desperately afraid of going to hell be sexually seduced and tortured tapped into my need to protect children from this. Later on, when shit really hits the fan there’s an opposite feeling of confusion and anger when we see the parents really do believe the accusations of witchcraft coming from 6-year-olds. And this stuff really happened! Going back to the term Gothic and the concept of “slow burn” I have only to point at Dracula to make a case for the gothic style of filmmaking. I guarantee no current horror fan is afraid of Dracula, but at the time audiences were terrified and the fact that Dracula has appeared in more movies than any other character, except maybe Sherlock Holmes, shows us that the idea of Dracula holds some kind of power over us.
For a more modern look at slow-burn let’s look at Rosemary’s Baby and even Polanski’s less-celebrated Repulsion. Both of these films are virtually bloodless and for the better half of each film not a whole lot is happening in the way of “horror” but we know something is coming and we feel panic for Mia Farrow and Cathrine Deneuve. Both of these films are centered on women and their struggles in society but with an added layer of terror thrown in. In my mind, if you enjoy Rosemary’s Baby there is no reason not to enjoy The Witch. The only thing that is drastically different is that Rosemary has the benefit of time and the word “classic” attached to it.
“Horror” has become a catch-all word because of the genre we all love so dearly. Because of this and the last decade of torture-porn and remakes of films like Last House on the Left and I Spit on Your Grave audiences have grown accustomed to the “money shot” of horror. The layers of horror films have been so stripped down to almost nothing but the gore shots and jump scares that most mainstream genre films ring hollow. I’m not calling for a change in genre name but simply a change in how we view it as a whole. I love 80s slashers as much as the next fan but for me, those are junk food for my brain. Films like The Witch and The Babadook that take on very real issues like sexual repression, religion, and grief should not be berated by the community for not being “scary” in a generalized way. This thinking is why our beloved genre is never taken seriously.
College kids, strippers and vampires—those were Donald P. Borchers’ only requirements when he approached Richard Wenk about writing and directing a movie for New World Pictures. As requested, Wenk cooked up Vamp (1986), a tailor-made blend of the decade’s teen movie craze as well as its horror boom.
Grim and earnest stories were still very much a part of the ’80s horror landscape, yet Vamp is something of a comedy. One difference between it and, say, Saturday the 14th, though, is the former avoids using schtick. Wenk’s movie proves that horror comedies also don’t have to subtract thrills from their recipes. Of course, it takes a minute before reaching that point; college antics and culture shocks preface this one macabre misadventure.
Vamp‘s initial setup is apt for a typical college-set, sex-driven comedy; to bribe their way into a fraternity house, two pledges (Chris Makepeace, Robert Rusler) go looking for some adult entertainment. Without wasting time on any further exposition, the characters embark on an all-in-one-night trip that quickly detours into terror.
To procure their elusive MacGuffin—a stripper willing to gyrate for some frat boys—Keith (Makepeace) and AJ (Rusler), plus a third wheel named Duncan (Gedee Watanabe), trade the safety of their remote college campus for the seediness of some unnamed city. The setting is recognizably L.A. by day, but as soon as night falls, downtown, along with the characters, slips into a kind of surreal universe. Director of photography Elliot Davis gave this early entry on his prolific résumé an unusual yet distinctive look; that Mario Bava-esque, magenta-green lighting is omnipresent, so much so that it’s almost its own character.
Chris Makepeace and Robert Rusler in Vamp
The faint comparisons to Martin Scorsese’s After Hours are merited, although not just because of Vamp’s distinguishing nighttime aesthetic. Save for the primary characters, the supporting roles in Wenk’s movie are also quite colorful and transactional in their behavior. The difference here, though, is the additional urge to ruin Keith and his friends at every turn. Some of that harm is humorous and tolerable enough, whereas the moment Vamp dishes out its first fatality, it’s abundantly clear how this movie qualifies as horror.
Vamp falls into that category of horror movie that reveals its genre with a scream rather than a series of whispers. The opening scene can function as a hint of what lies ahead—things are not at all what they appear to be—but otherwise, Wenk is more than happy to hold off on the horror. When that time does come, though, it catches the viewer off guard. In addition to the pure shock value is that sudden decision to upend the movie’s foremost feature. Or so it would seem.
If afraid of major spoilage, those new to Vamp would be wise to stop reading here. There’s just no skirting around the fact that the central fellowship in this buddy movie hits a serious snag when AJ is killed. That development causes the story to become more of a “long, bad night” journey for Keith and his romantic interest. So while Wenk scores points for subverting expectations, there is also a touch of sadness in his decision. Because if Vamp does anything well, it’s making the characters likable.
Something that comes easily to Vamp—and other teen horror movies from this same era—is its ability to invent young characters worth caring about, or at the very least, are interesting and not so immediately off-putting. More impressive is how Wenk did all this without actually fleshing out those characters. Still and all, Keith and his kind are a grade above cookie-cutter, and in some cases, aren’t completely devoid of growth.
Grace Jones in Vamp
Vamp appeals with an assorted cast of characters. No two are the same, nor are they operating on the same wavelength. The cinematically extroverted AJ, whose actor conveyed charm and vulnerability in near equal amounts, comes alive when he’s at his most undead. Makepeace then makes the chronically cautious Keith a sympathetic fellow, even as he’s more and more affected by the night’s bizarre events. Meanwhile, Duncan is indeed the designated loser of the whole bunch, but Watanabe still manages to humanize him. As a bonus, the role didn’t require him to pull a Long Duk Dong.
As for Dedee Pfeiffer, she is plain adorable as the mysterious After Dark server nicknamed “Amaretto”. She spends all night fixing her dress strap while at the same time trying to get Keith to remember how he knows her. As their offbeat romance grows, it becomes another highlight of this movie. Whether or not Pfeiffer’s character is really a vampire also creates some welcome tension in the story.
Like a lot of its contemporaries, Vamp went on to become a bit of a cult classic. That current status is determined by several factors, but without a doubt, the casting of Grace Jones is the most considerable. The image of her writhing on that unique-looking chair, a Keith Haring original, springs to mind whenever this movie is brought up.
Chris Makepeace, Billy Drago and Paunita Nichols in Vamp
Prior to that first display of unequivocal horror, local vampire queen Katrina (Jones) took to the stage and delivered a strip show like no other. One would expect nothing less from that renowned model and performance artist. By now reports of Jones’ tardiness on set are no secret, yet it’s also hard to deny her commitment to the part of Katrina. It was, in fact, Jones who took charge of her character’s appearance—on top of Haring painting her body and that now-iconic chair, she had Andy Warhol handle her costuming. And not too many actors could seize a room’s attention without saying a single line of dialogue.
In 2022, Vamp received a retrospective novelization from Encyclopocalypse. This literary union of preexisting source material—Wenk’s original screenplay—and new ideas from author Christian Francis amounts to a more comprehensive visit to the After Dark Club. The basic story there is no different than what’s shown on screen; however, Francis gets creative with the characters’ origins and designs, and he enhances a number of key scenes.
The novelization expands on the urban and social decay of the main setting, and supplies a background for the After Dark Club. Sandy Baron’s character, Katrina’s emcee and familiar, is given ample motivation for sticking around; up until the fiery end, he is loyal to his friend and former business partner “Squeak”, who looks like he was “fed through a combine harvester, and left as nothing more than a heap of mangled remains”. Then there is Billy Drago’s character Snow, the leader of a street gang called The Dragons. His reason for menacing Keith and AJ is more altruistic than in the movie; he and his peers act tough to scare off any potential food for the vampires.
Lisa Lyon in Vamp
If not for all the backstories, Francis’ Vamp would be a hell of a lot shorter. Instead, this tie-in read dives into how AJ met Keith—the orphaned Anthony Joseph hailed from a broken home back in Brooklyn—and how their friendship flourished over the years. Keith’s archership is no longer just an assumed part of his entire being; it’s a confidence-building extracurricular for a boy who got picked on before coming into the protection of the new kid in town. These supplemental, in-depth looks at the protagonists, plus their close connection, are maybe unnecessary. The movie already did a fair and concise job of addressing their platonic intimacy without the need for flashbacks and insights, specifically in that scene where AJ lays it all out as he sacrifices himself.
Where the novelization gets off course is its approach to the minor characters. Intermittently backstorying the likes of Katrina’s indentured servants, Seko (Leila Hee Olsen) and Vlad (Brad Logan), ends up disturbing the flow of the writing. Was it absolutely essential that readers know Vlad was the Grand Duke of the House of Romanov, or how Snow’s accomplice Maven (Paunita Nichols) became so dentally challenged? No, not really. However, one’s mileage with these random biographies may vary.
The novelization is a more substantial experience, but for a movie like Vamp, less is more. And as plentiful as they are, it never simply coasts on its campy charms, either. The character work sits comfortably in that realm between cursory and meticulous, the script is sharper than first realized, and Greg Cannom’s vampire makeup is straightforward yet effective. Most of all, the movie didn’t squander its out-of-the-box concept. Richard Wenk made his vision of a “comic nightmare in which just about anything that can go wrong does” come true, and it is very enjoyable.
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