As a child I was diagnosed with depression and Obsessive-Compulsive-Disorder. From these disorders came many nights of crying, self-hatred, and consideration of taking my own life. What many don’t understand about mental health, what is so tough to portray to someone else who may not live with these issues, is the immense feelings of loneliness and lack of self-worth. I am incredibly fortunate to have been raised in an open and loving household that discussed mental health and was there for me. Where my fear resided growing up was in how the rest of the world would accept me.
How can I actually be friends with people if I am so sad all the time? How am I supposed to go to work and be a normal person? How can anyone possibly love me if I feel like such a monster?
Thanks to the support of family, friends, and pursing healthy lifestyle choices, I came to cope with my mental health. I also had another source that significantly helped me during my most difficult of times: Horror movies.
Horror movies became a safe haven and a place where I could forget about the real horrors in my life. It’s ironic then that, as I got older, I came to realize how badly mental health has been portrayed throughout horror cinema. So much of horror’s history in handling mental health has always been playing into it as a trope; usually it’s depicted as a plot device that provides context for a crazed or villainous character. Not only is this lazy writing and illogically thought out, but it continues to perpetuate stigma surrounding mental health.
It’s because of this stigma that it has taken so long for us as a society to talk about the subject; and even with that in mind, there are still communities who suffer from mental illness that don’t have the same opportunities to speak out or be heard. It’s only in recent years that horror films have begun to handle the subject with more thoughtfulness, using well-crafted stories and character representation.
The use of mental illness depicted within horror can be dated almost as far back as the genre’s cinematic inception. In particular, an iconic place to start is the 1920’s German Expressionist film The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari. The story focuses on an evil doctor who controls a somnambulist who attacks people. The main character attempts to stop the evil doctor, but in the film’s twist ending, we realize that said main character is actually a delusional asylum inmate.
This twist has become one of the most popular story devices of all time within horror and mystery thrillers; we follow a main character through their journey, only to realize that they’ve been unreliable since the beginning. More importantly, however, The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari was one of the first horror films to associate mental health with the concept of being “criminally insane” or “untrustworthy”; from there, horror would continue to align mental health representation with negative connotations.
Another major take on this spin is Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho. By the end of the film we learn that the main antagonist’s violent actions stem from Dissociative identity disorder (DID). While the disorder is serious and can lead to depression, Post-Traumatic-Stress-Disorder, self-harm, and other issues, Psycho displays it as a means to lash out in violence. There is no major evidence that those with DID will become violent, but Psycho uses it as an excuse to make its antagonist violent. Again, this is a major case where a character’s mental health is used to establish a context for their “craziness”. It’s this portrayal of mental illness leading to violence that is the genre’s most damaging. In a more realistic case of Psycho, suffering from DID in itself wouldn’t push someone to act out in violence.
Horror’s use of melodramatic emphasis of mental disorders and their effects cut at the severity of their seriousness. And whether it is this sense of associating mental illness with violence, or the use of melodramatic emphasis, there’s rarely ever any actual scientific basis or context provided in these works. While movies can be a form of escapism and can be enjoyed as a fantasy, it isn’t best practice to use something as serious as mental health and not provide any understanding beyond “this is why so-and-so is crazy”. In Psycho, we’re just told that the character of Norman Bates has an identity disorder — we are never provided any understanding though of how it actually works. This lack of care in writing only damages society’s view of concepts like DID, placing an assumption within one’s mind (rather than providing the encouragement to learn further about said disorder).
The misrepresentation of mental health extends into various disorders. Besides the supernatural elements at work, 2016’s Lights Out focuses on a mother suffering with depression. Those who have never had depression may think of it as just being sad; to the contrary, depression is more of a state in which one cannot feel happiness and loses hope. It’s more of going through life without being able to feel joy, even when you consciously may know all around you is fine. It’s being around those you love and who love you, but not being able to feel that love.
Yet, Lights Out portrays the character as neurotic; and perhaps worse than how the disorder is portrayed is how other characters relate to it. In particular, her daughter views the mother as unreliable, batty, and demeans her for not taking her medication. So not only does the film misrepresent a heartbreaking disorder, but also presents characters outright judging someone for their suffering. Throughout numerous films, those who suffer with mental health difficulties have been labeled as “weak” and “unstable”; Lights Out perpetuates the stigma of this “weakness”, only taking away from the true severity of clinical depression.
It’s one thing to have a psychologically driven horror film, but it’s unfair to take disorders so real that people suffer from, and minimize them. That said, for all the years of unhealthy depictions of mental health, there are those works that present a positive focus in telling more honest and sincere stories. There are still bouts of problematic films, but there are more efforts to expose the seriousness of these disorders and generate empathy for those who suffer.
Some may not consider Lars Von Triers 2011 feature Melancholia a horror movie, but for someone like myself, it’s one of the most heartbreaking and horrifying experiences I can think of. While the story focuses on a larger existential event taking place, its plot follows a character dealing with severe depression. With the film opening on said character’s wedding, she constantly battles throughout the night trying to be happy. This is supposed to be the most wonderful day of her life, yet, she cannot bring herself to feel that happiness (no matter how much she wants to). How does that not sound like true horror?
Throughout the film the character begins to lose hope in living, and loses the ability to physically function at times. To be objective, this representation may be tough for a lot of people to comprehend, but as someone who has dealt with serious depression, it’s quite real. It is never just a means of being “down” or “sad”, but not being able to feel an ounce of happiness (and so desperately wanting too).
Melancholia does a superb job in detailing these struggles, providing a somber glimpse into the dread of depression. And if we look at films of the past few years, we can find a trend in more stories about depression and grief. Jennifer Kent’s The Babadook follows a woman coping with the death of her husband; it’s revealed that he died on the way to the hospital while she was in the midst of giving birth. Her son survived the accident, and she blames him for the husband’s death.
While The Babadook is in many ways a monster movie, the monster isn’t necessarily the titular creature itself. While the Babadook is unsettling to look upon, the real monster is the grief and depression that our main character lives with; we learn that the monster is the embodiment of her pain. The film explores the distance and despair that comes with such emotional states, and how they constantly beat upon one’s mind and body. Throughout the story we witness the main character barely able to sleep, having difficulty while working, and having difficulty in just being happy. She drags herself through life, her grief constantly pulling her down. She strives to take care of her son, but cannot find it within her to be close to him and open up.
The film concludes with our main character learning that the Babadook is something she must live with, rather than defeat. The loss the character has gone through, and all her pain, will always be a part of her. The constant lingering of dread and suffering is an immense part of mental illness; and because it’s something that those on the outside can’t see, it becomes a matter difficult to explain in public. For our character, she listens to other moms talk about their problems as they can’t even begin to relate to her pain.
What better way to portray such a monster that we’ve learned has no cure?
2018’s Hereditary is another film that explores grief and depression; we follow a family that is coping with the loss of a loved one, and how their lives begin to spiral out of control from their grief. What’s more fascinating in how Hereditary displays its depictions of mental health, is how other characters look upon the main character. With all of main character Annie’s stresses and anxieties, she’s written off as paranoid and pushed away (primarily by her husband). She is considered more of an irritation rather than someone worth taking seriously. This is an important notion to keep in mind when those who don’t suffer from mental illness confront others who do; sufferers may be told to “toughen up” or “it could be worse”, even with the other person having no solid understanding of what it’s like to suffer with mental illness. Sufferers will get labeled as “melodramatic” or “over thinking” rather than having their feelings considered.
The horror of the film comes from the emotional distance between the family, the lack of understanding when it comes to suffering, and their grief. Hereditary does a splendid job at showing how mental anguish festers overtime and consumes lives, showcasing the pain felt by others not understanding.
Not only in horror, but in art in general, we need more effort in how we discuss mental health. The conversation is picking up, but there’s still far too much stigma in the world to make the progress that needs to be made. Growing up and seeing so much media portray those with mental disorders as “crazy” or “violent” makes it difficult to reach out for fear of being judged. There are people all around the world who suffer from a variety of mental disorders, and not all have the ability or privilege to seek help, so they suffer in silence. We owe it to those learning about mental health today, and to those who have been suffering for years, to provide honest representation of mental health.
For myself growing up with different mental disorders, horror movies were an escape where I could forget the dread. In general, art helped me cope through my pain; there was something about watching monsters and ghosts that I found cathartic to my own existence. In their creepiness I found something fantastical that made me feel alive. What many don’t get about mental health is how it stays with a person; unlike a broken leg or a bruise, mental disorders don’t go away.
Being a fan of horror, watching movies, helped me put that dread within me into perspective. As I watched numerous films about slashers, ghouls, and monsters … I eventually began to learn how to face my own fears. My love for thrills and chills eventually shifted into academia, and I began to see how these analogies in films related to me. I came to embrace the genre; and while at first it was a means to escape, it began to evolve into a means to accept. I learned, through horror films, that I was not some kind of monster or lost hope — but that I could live a normal life with hope. My mental health and passion for the horror genre inspired me to become a writer, and take every opportunity I could to help educate others on mental health.
Horror movies are still quite a ways off from being excellent portrayals of mental health; that said, the medium has an immense power to generate empathy, and to help us all better understand these struggles. The positive changes are happening though, slowly but surely.
As we continue to push the conversation and become more open amongst ourselves, the art we love will continue to better understand mental health and slowly tear down the stigmas.