Editorials
Killer Comedy: The Mismatched Appeal of Comedians in Horror
As someone who became an avid follower of the Saw franchise during its reign as kings of horror in the mid-to-late 2000s, there was a little mental whiplash at the news of Spiral, the latest entry in the ever-expanding world of the Jigsaw killer, casting two A-list names to lead the charge. One of those names is not only an active executive producer of the film in his own right, but his rise to fame came through establishing himself as one of the world’s most successful and popular comedians.
That man is Chris Rock, one of the undisputed kings of comedy who made a name for himself not just with his HBO specials, but through his work in film, namely the Madagascar franchise. Known for his iconic energy and recognizable high-pitched voice aggressively commanding the audience to pay attention to his every word, Rock is just about the last person I would expect to not only headline but produce an entry into Saw, mostly known for its elaborate, blood-soaked traps perpetrated by an unknown assailant communicating through a clown-faced doll.
It’s a decision that has been met with some skepticism online, questioning how an actor primarily known for comedy could believably lead an entry in the Saw universe without bringing attention to it. Truthfully, there’s no real way to avoid it in Rock’s case. Whenever people see Chris Rock, comedy comes into mind and it’s almost impossible to not have that in mind while watching Spiral. But within the doubt of Rock proving his worth in horror is a trend bewildering yet intriguing enough to warrant a discussion of the genre’s capabilities.
The trend is the very idea of comedians in horror in the first place. Horror is a genre that has defined itself as a place for audiences to confront their worst fears or even to ponder questions we might have deeply suppressed in an attempt to protect our idealistic existence. The best horror challenges our preconceived notions on a variety of personal and world topics, having the ability to also take an extra step by playing around with film techniques to achieve this goal.
The best horror can also transcend genre to become a unique entity that manages to unnerve us no matter how much we try to understand it. It’s why projects like Hereditary, Audition, Scream, The Exorcist, and countless other horror titles have stood the test of time. In a sense, these movies do not restrict themselves to being “just” a horror movie. The genre is at its most visceral when it invades an aspect of our lives that we didn’t believe could be tainted by a type of horror we’ve tried protecting ourselves from.
Audition and Scream have extra relevance in this particular conversation for their ability to mix a lighter tone with a dark underbelly that helps them carve their respective spots in the genre. Scream is a horror movie for armchair horror fans, playing on slasher tropes and containing next-level self-awareness on the genre’s inner workings, making us feel closer to the protagonists than we would with a by-the-books slasher. It’s that strengthened bond that makes their eventual deaths feel all the more painful to witness; it’s as if we’re watching one of our movie night buddies get slaughtered in cold blood.
Audition subverts in a different way, playing with the set-up of an emotional romantic drama and then flipping everything on its head when the love interest is actually a stone-cold killer. Time is spent developing a widow who has grown lonely and a single father’s attempt to get back in the dating game through an act of deceit masked as an audition for a fake movie. The set-up implies a quirky romance dramedy before hitting us with a harrowing tale of abuse and its far-reaching effects into adulthood.
These two examples extend horror beyond its genre trappings to capture a new sense of fear and dread that we wouldn’t feel in a set-up that “prepares” for us to experience a horror story. Accessible as these films may be, there’s a healthy dose of taboo in crafting horror around concepts that we wouldn’t want horror to have anything to do with. Once it enters territory we deem “too much” for horror, an opportunity is presented to create something truly horrifying.
Now let’s talk about comedy.
Jim Carrey in ‘The Number 23’
Comedy, much like horror, is far more versatile than we give it credit for. It’s often seen as the type of art armed with the sole purpose of making the consumer laugh at a joke, humorous observation of life, etc. It’s what we look for in stand-up comedy, right? Comedians stand on stage and riff on a variety of topics, sometimes inching close to home for us, and we form a bond – an idea of our preferred comedian providing a safe haven for us.
It’s primarily why comedians straying away from that safe haven and stepping outside of their – and by extension, our – comfort zone can sometimes be met with a mixed reception. Audiences generally have a rough time accepting a face of comedy being lit in an unfavorable or grim light. Drama is slightly more palatable on account of the stories being grounded in a firm place in reality for the most part. But a shift to horror can be overwhelming for audiences hesitant to make the jump.
Chris Rock’s decision to lead Spiral is only the latest example of this trend, one that has been around since the usually comedic Tim Curry opted to sit in a make-up chair and transform into the infamous killer clown Pennywise for the It miniseries in 1990. Curry’s legendary performance helped establish him as one of the most frightening, yet engaging actors of his time and it all came with a performance that was still considered somewhat against-type for him.
The concept of a comedic actor playing a demented clown may not sound like a huge leap for audiences to comprehend, but the terror of a dancing clown secretly being a child murderer – raising a direct comparison to John Wayne Gacy – plays into the idea of horror thriving in the world of taboo. Casting a comedic actor for this only adds an extra layer of realism that digs into our psyche whether we like it or not.
Comedians like Jim Carrey and Robin Williams have often been praised for the smiles they’ve put on our faces over the years, so seeing them take up roles that veer closer to horror and psychological thrillers just feels…off. Carrey’s frenetic comedy style is an ace in the hole for strict comedies, but that same style can turn around and make us feel uncomfortable in something like The Cable Guy. We see Jim Carrey the way we normally see him, but the context now switches to his behavior being indicative of a larger personal problem that can become deadly before we realize it.
The late Robin Williams was no stranger to serious roles even in the late 80s and 90s, going back-and-forth between his fast-paced improvisational style and a sweet sincerity that garnered him millions of fans around the world. When we see that same man stalk a family in One Hour Photo, the level of terror exceeds the same idea if it were performed by an actor we are used to seeing in these roles. Against-type casting has been a thing in Hollywood for ages, but a comedian switching gears in this manner always feels as though we’re seeing it for the first time.
But however odd it may be, this trend manages to succeed in its job of surprising audiences more often than not. Even critically mixed performances such as Vince Vaughn in Psycho ’98 or Jim Carrey dabbling in horror a decade after The Cable Guy with The Number 23 feel like spirited attempts at playing with the minds of the audience in a horror setting. We may not hold all of these performances in equally high regard, but their mere existence still work as good jumping-off points for times when horror tried to get under our skin through the art of against-type casting.
We have even seen a prominent example of this win an Oscar in the case of Jordan Peele’s creation of Get Out. We had long known Peele as the comedic actor from madTV who rose to prominence with Keegan Michael-Key in Key & Peele. So a genuine horror effort felt off-putting, especially with a trailer that seemed to imply a healthy mix of horror and comedy. Peele does provide a handful of laughs here, but the comfort we got from his work in sketch comedy was replaced with a scathing horror satire that felt as though it came out of nowhere.
But it didn’t. The point is that none of this pops up out of nowhere. Comedians surprising audiences with darker and dramatic roles isn’t a new phenomenon by any means and Chris Rock’s contribution to the Saw series isn’t breaking new ground. But it’s still noteworthy enough to make headlines whenever it does happen. Skepticism aside, there is excitement to be had over what Chris Rock could potentially bring to a serious horror franchise.
Furthermore, comedians dabbling in horror may never feel commonplace in mainstream horror, but the shock factor in seeing them step into new territory is a cursed blessing. Horror has already been labeled as an outcast of Hollywood in spite of its immense profit margins, but witnessing the unlikeliest of celebrities embracing the genre is the inclusive spirit that comes (or rather should come) with such a twisted world.
Robin Williams in ‘One Hour Photo’
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.
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