Editorials
[Editorial] How the Theatrical Horror of 2009 Made Me a Hardcore Horror Fan
It all started with Prom Night. It was 2008, I was thirteen, and I’d been invited to go see this new horror movie with a group of girls I didn’t know very well, but whom I had become pretty friendly with since starting middle school just a few months prior. I didn’t yet have many friends at the time, and this would not only be one of my first hangouts with new people, but it would be the first horror movie I’d ever watched in my entire life.
I remember that before I got to the theater that night, I did hold onto an initial apprehension – an uneasiness built from years of fearing the front covers of scary DVDs while perusing Hollywood Video with my dad – but which dissipated as soon as we entered our screening. This was because the theater was packed, to a point that I don’t think I’ve seen recreated since – or maybe it has been, but that feeling certainly never was.
It was an introduction to the communal shrieks, gasps, laughter and then sighs of relief that come with a full house horror screening, and which were punctuated by my own feelings of unity with my friends, with the other theater-goers, and the experience itself. It’s a memory that I’ve held onto all these years later, still so sharp in my mind that I can see exactly where we sat in the theater, and the angle from which we watched teenage blood drip from the screen.
Though 2009, an entire decade ago (and a horrifying reminder that it’s been ten whole years since I was fourteen), found most of its influential flourish in now-horror classics such as Zombieland, Antichrist, Drag Me to Hell and even The Human Centipede, I remember the year a little differently.
The horror renaissance of my 2009 kicked off with the Friday the 13th remake and lasted throughout the year, finishing off with the alien found footage film The Fourth Kind and leading to a lifelong genre devotion. When I think of 2009, I think of the goofy dybbuk horror The Unborn, the possession horror The Haunting in Connecticut, the evil child thriller Orphan, and the mixed bag American remake of the Korean film A Tale of Two Sisters, The Uninvited – films that seem to have fallen off the face of horror discourse forever. But they each left a lasting and unshakable impression on me.
A year or so after my Prom Night experience, I had heard through the public school grapevine that the theater in our hometown that sold conveniently cheaper tickets compared to the local AMC also sold them to unaccompanied minors looking to watch an R-rated film. So, my friends and I made our plans to see the new reboot of the classic slasher Friday the 13th, while I went and lined up our showing with an age-appropriate film playing around the same time. A deviously seamless technique I would employ for any and all R-rated films until I turned eighteen, I would tell my parents that the latter film was the one I was attending. They still don’t know that I did that.
Thus, if the unsuccessful 2008 remake of the horror classic Prom Night was the catalyst to desire, then that Friday the 13th revival was the ensuing chemical reaction. With no easy access to, nor slightest interest in the violent artistry of Lars von Trier, the trash horror to grace suburban cinemas was my teenage entryway into the entire genre. And while a PG-13 rating is frequently looked down on in the horror community, in comparison to the bloody opportunities available when rated R, there is still something to be said for its impact. If you aren’t so lucky as to be gifted with a theater that doesn’t think twice about letting a group of fourteen-year-olds into a remake of The Last House on the Left, PG-13 horror films can be an accessible opportunity for kids with a curiosity about the genre.
I’d be lying if I told you I could recollect what any of these movies I’ve mentioned are about. I am constantly misremembering The Unborn as having starred Megan Fox (that was Jennifer’s Body, also a 2009 film), and though Orphan was a film that seemed to light up giddy conversations in the halls of my high school due to an uncomfortable scene coinciding with the film’s big reveal, you’d be hard pressed to get any synopsis out of me. The Fourth Kind’s only mark in my memory is not of the purportedly “real” footage of alien existence, but of the closing credits, during which supposed real-life narration is used in place of music. It includes a line that my friends and I swore said “My daughter is seven and she saw a square!” – which underscored inside jokes between us for months. But I digress.
When I look back at the horror films of 2009, I somehow can’t remember when I went to see Zombieland. But I can remember when I saw The Uninvited and guffawed at its uninteresting plot twist while third-wheeling with my friend and her boyfriend. I remember going to the theater, and going consistently – constantly intrigued by the promise of a new horror film and not once being discouraged by the disappointing end product. I always wanted to watch another one of these films, and I always wanted to come back. Though the content didn’t leave much of a mark, it was the experience of being in the theater, being with my friends, and being exposed to the genre itself. I knew I wanted more, and I wanted better. I wanted something to scare me.
The horror of 2009 was, for me, an understated teenage goldmine – seemingly forgotten in the eyes of tastemakers, but influential to those of us just entering puberty and bored on a Friday night. My friends and I would always find ourselves intrigued by the potential of an adrenaline rush from something spooky called The Haunting in Connecticut, complete with a convenient 7:00 PM showing so that we didn’t have to miss dinner with our parents. But the things that teenagers enjoy often end up overlooked, in favor of what’s considered “true quality.”
And to an extent, that’s not entirely false. Back then, my friends and I would go see almost anything just to spend time with one another. There was no counter on caliber; we didn’t give a shit about Paul Thomas Anderson. We’d get to the theater a little early or stay a little late, just to hang out in the back by the stairs leading up to the projection room, taking goofy pictures of ourselves striking weird poses with our Canon cameras, during a time when iPhones were only just being conceptualized. But more often than not, we’d eventually find ourselves sitting in the very last row in the screening of a B-rate horror film.
When I look back on it now, I feel thankful that we did.
I first heard about The Mandela Catalogue through a couple of nephews who were obsessed with the ARG’s sinister mythology. It was only after watching Wendigoon’s in-depth analysis of the series that I realized just how deep this rabbit hole goes.
In fact, I’d already been exposed to the nightmarish visuals of Alex Kister’s YouTube creation for years at that point without even realizing that it was the origin of several viral “cursed images” and spooky memes that had leaked into the wider internet – with this viral element actually being a part of the Catalogue’s overarching narrative.
Flash-forward to 2026 and the unprecedented success of Kane Parsons’ Backrooms has led to Hollywood betting on horrific internet properties with existing fanbases, which means that Kister’s unique hybrid of both religious and analog horror is finally headed to the big screen with a script written by Kister himself alongside Tyler Clifton.
While this news shouldn’t be too surprising if you’ve been keeping up with the ongoing success of The Mandela Catalogue (both myself and Wendigoon having previously predicted that the series would inevitably make the jump to theaters one day), plenty of horror fans are likely confused as to why so many folks are excited for what appears to be a Hollywood adaptation of a series of creepy .jpeg images under a VHS filter.
With that in mind, today I’d like to invite fellow readers to accompany me as I explore the origins of Alex Kister’s viral hit and attempt to explain exactly why we should all be excited about the Mandela Catalogue adaptation!
From High School Writing Project to Internet Horror Phenomenon
The first seeds of The Mandela Catalogue were sown when Kister was still in high school and developed a writing project subverting religious tropes in a world where biblical history had been altered by demonic forces. A little while later, Kister came across an analog horror contest on Reddit and decided to adapt his ideas into a standalone video where he would edit a religious kids’ cartoon –The Beginner’s Bible: The Nativity, to be specific- into something far creepier. This is how the iconic Overthrone video was born, with this viral short film taking on a life of its own as fans demanded more eerie content from Kister.
Though the video was originally meant to be a one-and-done sort of affair, with Kister actually regretting some of its primitive visuals and considering the editing amateurish and “YouTube-Poop-like” when compared to his current standards, fan reaction and free time during the COVID-19 pandemic encouraged the (then) seventeen-year-old filmmaker to continue producing content set in this same world. The Mandela Catalogue name was inspired by the Mandela Effect conspiracy theory, as the series would slowly begin to explore the subtle horror of alternate histories.
Inspired by existential dread brought on by extended periods of quarantine as well as a personal crisis of faith, Kister continued to expand his alternate timeline where the rise of Christianity had been prevented by what was presumably the Devil disguised as the Archangel Gabriel. This alternate course of fictional events led to the existence of certain paranormal anomalies that had come to be accepted as “normal” by the 1990s, which is why most of the series’ supernatural horror is presented in such a matter-of-fact manner.
Most of this background information and religious lore is delivered by increasingly cryptic broadcasts and in-universe PSAs, as well as the occasional found footage video, that often have to be decoded by clever viewers. Of course, it’s the consistently disturbing imagery that made the series so popular – much of which was originally created by Kister on a smartphone!
The Alternates: Horror’s Most Unsettling Modern Monsters
The show’s early episodes mostly take place within the fictional Mandela County in Wisconsin and depict life in a world where demonic entities are capable of using media to enter our reality. This process usually involves scaring victims into killing themselves and then repurposing their bodies as horrific doppelgangers referred to as “Alternates”. This terrifying phenomenon has become so common that local police already have specialized procedures in place to deal with the issue, though this usually consists of simply ignoring calls for help so as to avoid spreading so-called “Metaphysical Awareness Disorder” any further.
Over time, Kister would expand this mythology and incorporate different kinds of Alternates into the mix, though the story never stopped deconstructing religious concepts. The series’ second volume exponentially increased both video quality and the overall narrative scope as we began to follow the lives of characters who had already grown up in this dystopian hellscape where the government is forced to prohibit religion, television, and even mirrors in the hopes of mitigating the damage done by the ongoing invasion of otherworldly entities.
The really interesting part comes into play when you realize exactly how the Alternates make use of scary media in order to spread their demonic influence, with the analog horror of it all being a diegetic part of the story and something of a memetic trap orchestrated by the false Gabriel.
I particularly appreciate how some characters begin to suspect that there’s something wrong with their version of reality and that things weren’t meant to play out this way, especially when Mark utters the haunting line “who have I been praying to all this time?” That’s why I think The Mandela Catalogue is an effective piece of religious horror even if you don’t subscribe to the Christian worldview, as the mere idea of a world where evil has already won is a universally terrifying concept in and of itself. Not only that, but the series’ uncanny analog imagery alone is already worth the price of admission, as you’ve likely already noticed by looking at the pictures accompanying this article.
Why The Feature Adaptation Could Be Horror’s Next Big Success
It’s actually been a whole year since Kister first announced that he had been working on a feature-length screenplay for a Mandela Catalogue movie since 2022, with his proposed story following an ensemble of high-school graduates who uncover a supernatural conspiracy after the mysterious disappearance of a fellow student. This premise sounds similar to narrative elements present in the series’ second volume, but I’m pretty sure that Kister is going to go the Kane Parsons route and make the movie more of a spin-off than a re-imagining of its source material.
While notable Hollywood producers like Aaron B. Koontz, Scott Stuber, and Steven Spielberg himself are backing the upcoming project, I feel like there’s no one better to adapt this deeply personal exploration of faith and the dark side of communication than the person who first came up with it. That’s why I can’t wait to see Kister’s work on the big screen, as I have a feeling that this young filmmaker is the next one on the list about to make cinematic history – especially since this is clearly a passion project that has been in the works for years at this point!
That being said, there’s always a chance that the film could end up unleashing a fresh wave of Alternate incursions, but I guess that’s just a risk we’ll have to take.
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