Editorials
Why the Horror Trope of the Hard-Boiled Detective Protagonist Needs to End
I typically only write when I feel like I have something meaningful to say – a specific insight into a movie, a humble suggestion to make a franchise more interesting or relevant… Rarely do I write hundreds of words simply to express my own personal beef with something as trivial as a horror trope that desperately needs to die.
Buckle up, buttercups, this is one of those rare occasions. What I’m about to say is my personal opinion. You aren’t required to agree.
So help me, if I ever again read a horror plot synopsis that begins with “A detective…” or lord have mercy in the case of Hellraiser: Judgment, “Three detectives…” I will put my hand through my laptop screen.
It needs to stop.
There are very specific instances where this sort of set-up has worked, and even those will almost certainly be debated over in the comments section regarding whether they are ‘real horror.’ Se7en worked. If you want to expand into the realm of the FBI, The Silence of the Lambs worked. But those were very specific tales of law enforcement agents hunting serial killers. Telling the story from the perspective of law enforcement made sense.
What makes less sense to me is taking the Hellraiser franchise and turning it into a police procedural. Or even the Saw series. The first installments of these franchises are considered classics and one of the reasons why is their embrace of one the basic tenets of good horror: relatability. Kirsty Cotton was an every-person whose weird uncle and stepmother brought Hell into her father’s home. Lawrence Gordon was a doctor, which most of us are not, but he didn’t have to be. Anyone, from any walk of life, seen as sufficiently ungrateful for their existence could be a Jigsaw target. You could imagine waking up with a bear-trap on your face because you dropped out of college or don’t call your Grandpa enough and that was what made the premise scary.
Movies use the protagonist as an avatar for the viewer. Michael Myers is scary because any one of us could be Laurie Strode, sitting in a house, babysitting a couple of kids, with a masked maniac standing outside holding an oversized steak knife he inexplicably wants to place inside you multiple times. Anyone can be Nancy, because we all sleep and we’re all one nightmare away from Freddy. The Freelings. The Lutz family. Even the crew of the Nostromo were working stiffs more interested in getting home and getting paid than anything. Almost any of your favorite horror movies have one thing in common and that’s a horrifying threat encroaching on familiar people. It’s not that hard to picture yourself in their shoes, the subtle message being drilled into your brain where it lies in wait for you to crawl into bed at night and stare into the dark – It could happen to you. And while we’re on the subject, that’s another reason Get Out was so effective at doing what it was intended to do – the black community doesn’t see a lot of protagonists in horror so excruciatingly relatable and the white community rarely gets such an opportunity to empathize with one.
You know who I have a much harder time empathizing with? Hard-boiled detectives. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because they don’t exist. Not in the way they’re typically depicted on film. These brooding, hard-drinking, unshaven dudes who say things like “I’ve gotta catch this scumbag” below a normal conversational volume. I don’t know that guy. You don’t know that guy. You want a truly relatable detective? Watch Zodiac. David Toschi’s job is tedious and frustrating and it never leads to any fulfilling answers. Now that’s a guy people can relate to.
Of course, there are exceptions to every rule, and some rules were made to be broken. Again, see Se7en or The Silence of the Lambs. But if you’re trying to pull off horror by placing the audience in the shoes of a character like Mills or Starling you damn well better make them as relatable as Mills or Starling, both of whom were grounded in their respective backstories and greenhorn statuses. If you don’t, no matter how interesting your premise is – like say a puzzle box that acts as a figurative and literal gateway to pain and pleasure beyond your most perverse imaginings – it’s dead on arrival because we have no reason to care, and thus, no reason to be scared.
In this day and age, the word “troll” is often used to describe various online nuisances. Yet as abundant and irksome as the modern troll can be, they aren’t usually as fearsome as their mythological counterparts. I’m not talking about the small and gentler versions that have become more common to see in media. No, there are much bigger and scarier trolls out there—and André Øvredal’s movie Troll Hunter is one of the best places to find them.
It doesn’t take long for Troll Hunter (or Trolljegeren) to dump the Blair Witch Project-esque setup and aim for something a lot fresher. The trajectory of the story is augmented by Otto Jespersen’s character Hans, the titular Troll Hunter. The second he comes barreling out of the deep, dark woods and shouts “troll” at the camera, this movie takes a turn into what feels like uncharted territory. Not only subject-wise, but also conceptually.
For fantastical and made-up subject matter in cinema, found footage is a fast way to add a guise of believability. After all, what we accept to be the most crucial aspect of documentaries—the truth—rubs off on pseudo-documentaries, despite our understanding of the pretense involved. That is what Øvredal delivered with Troll Hunter: a movie so convincing that some viewers wondered if trolls really do exist. So, had this been straightforwardly made, it likely wouldn’t have been as effective. Conventional narratives would be more inclined to treat something like trolls as flat out unreal, and never try to convince the audience to think otherwise.
Hans petrifies the three-headed Tusseladd troll.
The viewers, like the characters trailing Hans, are quickly thrown into the deeper end of that extraordinary story. They have to process all this new information while staying on the go. So, although there is no significant amount of meandering, narratively or physically, there is still a good amount of atmosphere, not to mention tension building. It’s never anything frightful, but then again, Troll Hunter isn’t your standard offering of horror; it’s more on the low end of the dark fantasy spectrum. We aren’t ever spirited away to a faraway world—we stay in rather familiar surroundings, as well as dip into those less so. The outcome is a movie where you’re constantly more in awe than in terror.
As fantasy fiction might do, Troll Hunter prefers not to deal with incredulity. There is no time to waste on doubt, as interviewer Thomas (Glenn Erland Tosterud), soundperson Johanna (Johanna Mørck), and cameraman Kalle (Tomas Alf Larsen) all follow Hans around, recording whatever this character is willing to reveal about his bizarre job. Of course, the Troll Hunter himself is not an open book; in that respect, the diegetic documentary fails to fully capture and unpack the more interesting of its two subjects. Yes, all those giant, monstrous trolls are indeed incredible, but understandably, your mind wanders to their pursuer. What kind of person signs up for this gig and then chooses to stick with it for so long?
Reviews have called out Troll Hunter for its lack of character development. In regard to Thomas and his fellow documentarians, that criticism is valid, but bear in mind, they aren’t the focus of the story, either. Meanwhile, Hans is a well-crafted character. At least better than first realized. Before he was introduced, Hans had already grown tired of the troll grind. Fed up with that low compensation for his services, resentful of the bureaucracy, and wanting to expose his employer on a large scale, Hans’ discontent is glaring.
Then there are those finer details about the Troll Hunter, such as that indifference to both the natural splendor of his everyday surroundings and the affections of an obviously smitten colleague, that also suggest some level of despondency. So it is fair to say this movie doesn’t feature any sizable growth for its characters; however, the namesake isn’t underwritten. No doubt, putting a real-life character like Otto Jespersen in that role is partly why Hans is so fascinating—maybe even relatable.
Otto Jespersen as Hans the Troll Hunter.
There is always a small risk whenever using the term “mockumentary” to describe a found-footage movie, as the word could imply humor where there is none. In the case of Troll Hunter, the term’s usage is appropriate. Some folks have claimed the English-dubbed version has the more comedic tone, however, the Norwegian cut isn’t exactly humorless. Apart from the trolls’ absurd appearances, this is a movie where the characters nearly choke on the monsters’ farts, and Christians are like walking targets. Hans’ complete apathy towards everything is another cause of laughter. Overall, the comedy is intentionally dry and inconsistent. Unfunny, though? Absolutely not.
In a movie where endemic creatures are maltreated, as well as disavowed from living freely and peacefully, it’s hard not to notice the ecological message buried beneath the story. In addition to that is the unmistakable political satire. There is this whole business about intrusive and unsightly power lines—like trolls, they’re big blemishes on the land—that leads to what is perhaps the movie’s funniest moment. The scene in question is that one where certain electric lines, the ones secretly being used to keep the trolls at bay, go in a loop and don’t actually send power to any residents. Yet the monitors of said lines don’t find this at all weird. So it stands to reason that Øvredal was having a go at those who accept the government’s doings without question.
Looking past the fact that trolls aren’t actually real, this movie is an enlightening source of information. And not just for international audiences; Norwegians, too, get schooled about their homeland’s own mythology. It’s also evident from everything on screen that Øvredal and his crew were enthusiastic about the topic. The creature designs are the most indicative of that zeal; those imaginative yet myth-accurate manifestations are equally amusing and grotesque. One second you’re laughing at their phallic noses, the next you’re white-knuckling during a hairy sequence. Most surprisingly is how well the trolls’ visual effects hold up after fifteen years. It’s not all spotless, but on the whole, they remain impressive.
Vouching for a mockumentary about trolls isn’t easy, but those who do come around and give it a shot will more than likely be grateful for the recommendation. For Troll Hunter is a real find in that vast and varied genre we call “found footage“.
A bridge troll reaches up for food and finds Hans decked out in armor.
You must be logged in to post a comment.