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Be Afraid, Be Very Afraid: An Intro to Body Horror!

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When you think of body horror, David Cronenberg likely pops into mind. The director’s earlier horror films cornered the market on gruesome, psychologically twisted transformations and breakdowns of the human body, after all. But body horror existed long before, with Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein an earlier example, and the sub-genre has thrived and evolved long since Cronenberg left horror. Horror is a genre that flourishes on fear of the unknown, and this sub-genre exploits that fear in the worst possible way.

Body horror is a reminder that sometimes death is better, as we watch in disgust while the victims are trapped inside their own bodies as it degenerates and mutates into something unfamiliar and unidentified. On a visceral level, it disturbs because it’s disturbing and gross to look at. On an emotional level, though, body horror instills a deeper level of fear because we tend to fear losing who we are as people. Seth Brundle’s slow mutation into the Brundle-fly monster in The Fly visually repulsed as his teeth fell out and he vomited digestive enzymes to eat, but his story evoked sympathy due to his desperation to cling to whatever humanity he had left. His transformation was consuming him body and soul.

Body horror as we now know it really began to emerge in the 1950s, with The Fly and The Blob. Both standouts of horror for its time, both a showcase of practical effects, and both would eventually get remade decades later. The most prominent entry in body horror in the ‘60s was, surprisingly, Rosemary’s Baby. Roman Polanski’s classic horror film explored the fears of motherhood, and poor Rosemary Woodhouse (Mia Farrow) never truly had autonomy over her own body. Her own husband drugged her and offered her up to Satan, and the resulting pregnancy was controlled at every turn by the surrounding witches. Even when the Antichrist baby in her womb was making her very ill.

The Incredible Melting Man

1977 propelled body horror forward in a major way with David Lynch’s Eraserhead, William Sachs’ The Incredible Melting Man, and Cronenberg’s Rabid. Cronenberg had already began his exploration of body horror with 1975’s Shivers, but Rabid broadened the scope of the horror as lead Marilyn Chambers’ Rose found herself patient zero for a zombie outbreak thanks to an experimental procedure that was thrust upon her post motorcycle crash. The Incredible Melting Man followed astronaut Steve West (Alex Rebar) slowly melting away upon his return to Earth following serious radiation exposure in space. Narratively, the film is rather dull, but it’s memorable for Rick Baker’s fantastic makeup effects work that makes West’s slow disintegration so gnarly. Lynch gave a surreal twist to body horror with Eraserhead, as Henry Spencer (Jack Nance) learns to care for and cope with a deformed child. It’s strange and dreamlike.

The golden age of practical effects in the ‘80s, meant body horror exploded. 1980 saw another entry in the surreal, with Ken Russell’s Altered States. Starring William Hurt in his debut role, he played Dr. Eddie Jessup, a professor seeking an alternate plane of existence by way of drugs and deprivation chambers. Jessup morphs and transforms with each experiment in the chambers. Two years later brought John Carpenter’s The Thing, a masterclass in paranoia and practical effects, as the Antarctic research team is hunted by a shape-shifting alien that assumes the appearance of its victims. Cronenberg’s Scanners, Videodrome, The Fly, and Dead Ringers firmly established the director as a defining voice in body horror. But there’s also one oft-overlooked voice that played an integral role in ‘80s body horror; H.P. Lovecraft.

Stuart Gordon’s love of Lovecraft delivered gooey, slimy, gory body horror in the form of Re-Animator and From Beyond. Re-Animator, loosely based on short story Herbert West-Reanimator, followed the exploits of Jeffrey Combs’ Herbert West as his reanimating agent leads to serious undead trouble. From Beyond sees Jeffrey Combs once again in the lead as Dr. Crawford Tillinghast, a survivor of Dr. Pretorius’ alternate reality experiments gone wrong. Pretorius’ machine opens the portal to an alternate world that leaves humans in extended close proximity forever morphed. Gordon’s producing partner Brian Yuzna would tackle gooey body horror of his own in 1989’s Society, though the body horror would remain subtle into the surreal final act infamously known as the “shunting.”

Clive Barker merged body horror with hell in 1987’s Hellraiser, as Frank Cotton’s reverse resurrection was the gory stuff of nightmares. Throw in sadomasochism and self-mutilation, and Hellraiser further broadened the scope of body horror. Japan was also experimenting with body horror in the late ‘80s, exploring government tests via animation in Akira and extreme metal meets man body horror in Tetsuo: The Iron Man.

If you thought the ‘90s were a wasteland of body horror, then seek out Braindead (Dead Alive) and Body Melt. The former takes a comical approach to the zombie outbreak and injects it with an insane amount of gore and body horror. The latter sees residents of a small town being used as test subjects for a drug that causes painful death by way of rapid decomposition. Both films take body horror to gag-worthy levels and it’s recommended that you skip out on eating while watching.

It wasn’t until the following decade, though, that body horror would return in a big way. Eli Roth’s Cabin Fever made you afraid of infection with the flesh-eating virus at the center of the film. James Gunn injected humor in body horror with Slither, its alien invasion leading to all forms of grotesque mutations. Then there’s The Human Centipede, a horror film that seeks to offend based on premise alone; a mad scientist seeks to create a human centipede by stitching his kidnapped victims together, rectum to mouth.

A new trend in body horror started to emerge; the coming of age horror story. Teeth, Ginger Snaps, Raw, and Blue My Mind all took the horrors of female puberty and twisted it further with strange body transformations. In Ginger Snaps, the onslaught of puberty was represented with Ginger’s oncoming infection of lycanthropy, while transitioning into womanhood meant transforming into a wholly different beast in Blue My Mind. Teeth and Raw interpreted sexual awakening with monstrous results.

Body horror overlaps and blends well with other sub-genres of horror, and offers more internal depth than just outward body transformations. It may have begun rooted in conscious fears of losing control of our own bodies as the characters on screen lost control of theirs via mutilation, transformation, or decomposition. Now it can reflect our medical fears, unwanted change, technological fears, and even fears of natural growth. This is only a tip of the iceberg, so be afraid. Be very afraid.

Horror journalist, RT Top Critic, and Critics Choice Association member. Co-Host of the Bloody Disgusting Podcast. Has appeared on PBS series' Monstrum, served on the SXSW Midnighter shorts jury, and moderated horror panels for WonderCon and SeriesFest.

Editorials

‘Leprechaun Returns’ – The Charm of the Franchise’s Legacy Sequel

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leprechaun returns

The erratic Leprechaun franchise is not known for sticking with a single concept for too long. The namesake (originally played by Warwick Davis) has gone to L.A., Las Vegas, space, and the ‘hood (not once but twice). And after an eleven-year holiday since the Davis era ended, the character received a drastic makeover in a now-unmentionable reboot. The critical failure of said film would have implied it was time to pack away the green top hat and shillelagh, and say goodbye to the nefarious imp. Instead, the Leprechaun series tried its luck again.

The general consensus for the Leprechaun films was never positive, and the darker yet blander Leprechaun: Origins certainly did not sway opinions. Just because the 2014 installment took itself seriously did not mean viewers would. After all, creator Mark Jones conceived a gruesome horror-comedy back in the early nineties, and that format is what was expected of any future ventures. So as horror legacy sequels (“legacyquels”) became more common in the 2010s, Leprechaun Returns followed suit while also going back to what made the ‘93 film work. This eighth entry echoed Halloween (2018) by ignoring all the previous sequels as well as being a direct continuation of the original. Even ardent fans can surely understand the decision to wipe the slate clean, so to speak.

Leprechaun Returns “continued the [franchise’s] trend of not being consistent by deciding to be consistent.” The retconning of Steven Kostanski and Suzanne Keilly’s film was met with little to no pushback from the fandom, who had already become accustomed to seeing something new and different with every chapter. Only now the “new and different” was familiar. With the severe route of Origins a mere speck in the rearview mirror, director Kotanski implemented a “back to basics” approach that garnered better reception than Zach Lipovsky’s own undertaking. The one-two punch of preposterous humor and grisly horror was in full force again.

LEPRECHAUN

Pictured: Linden Porco as The Leprechaun in Leprechaun Returns.

With Warwick Davis sitting this film out — his own choice — there was the foremost challenge of finding his replacement. Returns found Davis’ successor in Linden Porco, who admirably filled those blood-stained, buckled shoes. And what would a legacy sequel be without a returning character? Jennifer Aniston obviously did not reprise her final girl role of Tory Redding. So, the film did the next best thing and fetched another of Lubdan’s past victims: Ozzie, the likable oaf played by Mark Holton. Returns also created an extension of Tory’s character by giving her a teenage daughter, Lila (Taylor Spreitler).

It has been twenty-five years since the events of the ‘93 film. The incident is unknown to all but its survivors. Interested in her late mother’s history there in Devil’s Lake, North Dakota, Lila transferred to the local university and pledged a sorority — really the only one on campus — whose few members now reside in Tory Redding’s old home. The farmhouse-turned-sorority-house is still a work in progress; Lila’s fellow Alpha Epsilon sisters were in the midst of renovating the place when a ghost of the past found its way into the present.

The Psycho Goreman and The Void director’s penchant for visceral special effects is noted early on as the Leprechaun tears not only into the modern age, but also through poor Ozzie’s abdomen. The portal from 1993 to 2018 is soaked with blood and guts as the Leprechaun forces his way into the story. Davis’ iconic depiction of the wee antagonist is missed, however, Linden Porco is not simply keeping the seat warm in case his predecessor ever resumes the part. His enthusiastic performance is accentuated by a rotten-looking mug that adds to his innate menace.

LEPRECHAUN RETURNS sequel

Pictured: Taylor Spreitler, Pepi Sonuga, and Sai Bennett as Lila, Katie and Rose in Leprechaun Returns.

The obligatory fodder is mostly young this time around. Apart from one luckless postman and Ozzie — the premature passing of the latter character removed the chance of caring about anyone in the film — the Leprechaun’s potential prey are all college aged. Lila is this story’s token trauma kid with caregiver baggage; her mother thought “monsters were always trying to get her.” Lila’s habit of mentioning Tory’s mental health problem does not make a good first impression with the resident mean girl and apparent alcoholic of the sorority, Meredith (Emily Reid). Then there are the nicer but no less cursorily written of the Alpha Epsilon gals: eco-conscious and ex-obsessive Katie (Pepi Sonuga), and uptight overachiever Rose (Sai Bennett). Rounding out the main cast are a pair of destined-to-die bros (Oliver Llewellyn Jenkins, Ben McGregor). Lila and her peers range from disposable to plain irritating, so rooting for any one of them is next to impossible. Even so, their overstated personalities make their inevitable fates more satisfying.

Where Returns excels is its death sequences. Unlike Jones’ film, this one is not afraid of killing off members of the main cast. Lila, admittedly, wears too much plot armor, yet with her mother’s spirit looming over her and the whole story — comedian Heather McDonald put her bang-on Aniston impersonation to good use as well as provided a surprisingly emotional moment in the film — her immunity can be overlooked. Still, the other characters’ brutal demises make up for Lila’s imperviousness. The Leprechaun’s killer set-pieces also happen to demonstrate the time period, seeing as he uses solar panels and a drone in several supporting characters’ executions. A premortem selfie and the antagonist’s snarky mention of global warming additionally add to this film’s particular timestamp.

Critics were quick to say Leprechaun Returns did not break new ground. Sure, there is no one jetting off to space, or the wacky notion of Lubdan becoming a record producer. This reset, however, is still quite charming and entertaining despite its lack of risk-taking. And with yet another reboot in the works, who knows where the most wicked Leprechaun ever to exist will end up next.


Horror contemplates in great detail how young people handle inordinate situations and all of life’s unexpected challenges. While the genre forces characters of every age to face their fears, it is especially interested in how youths might fare in life-or-death scenarios.

The column Young Blood is dedicated to horror stories for and about teenagers, as well as other young folks on the brink of terror.

Leprechaun Returns movie

Pictured: Linden Porco as The Leprechaun in Leprechaun Returns.

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