Editorials
The Evolution of Found Footage: A History of Screenlife Horror
Epistolary storytelling has been immersing readers in fiction since the very dawn of literature. Using simulated letters, diaries and other documents to craft complex tales with shifting points of view, the format inevitably ended up attracting inventive filmmakers who realized that it could be adapted into a cinematic tool to instill terror. From The McPherson Tape to The Blair Witch Project, Found Footage movies have kept the epistolary tradition alive through their use of faux home video and other diegetic media.
However, with over four decades of Found Footage experiments out there, the genre has seen quite a bit of innovation. Personally, I think one of the most interesting off-shoots of Found Footage is the ongoing trend of Screenlife films, where the entire narrative is told within the confines of digital screens. While this curious format has only recently become popular in mainstream media, it’s actually older than most people seem to realize, and that’s why I’d like to take a look back at the surprising history of Screenlife horror.
Since these movies obviously rely on digital technology to tell their stories, Screenlife was a relatively rare gimmick before the days of high-definition digital photos and online webcams. Before the 2000s, depictions of digital screens were usually relegated to brief inserts in traditional media, often with unintentionally humorous results since filmmakers weren’t accustomed to dealing with computer graphics.
That being said, 1997 saw the release of Chris Marker’s French mockumentary Level Five, which told the story of a grieving widow attempting to finish her late husband’s videogame project, with the filmmakers heavily incorporating digital imagery into the movie. It wasn’t exactly a Screenlife film, with the digital elements only complementing the documentary experience, but this experimental picture was a sign of things to come.
Nostalgic scares incoming!
In 2000, audiences were presented with the first feature-length Screenlife movie in Pierre-Paul Renders’ eerily prescient Thomas Was in Love, which told the story of an agoraphobic man who lives out his solitary love-life through webcams and virtual sex. While this French indie darling was mostly a futuristic romance, it wasn’t long until genre filmmakers were using its ideas as a jumping off point to produce digital scares.
Released in 2002, Michael Costanza’s The Collingswood Story was the first scary movie to take webcam-based narratives seriously, using shifting points of view to spin a supernatural yarn concerning sinister mediums and long-distance relationships. While it wasn’t exactly a ground-breaking experience, this primitive predecessor of minimalist horror classics like Paranormal Activity stood out through its use of lo-fi video and simulated desktops, eventually earning a cult following as the first true Screenlife horror flick.
After that, the format would only really kick off during the 2010s, due in no small part to the rising popularity of social media and more advanced consumer-grade tech. Movies like the controversial Megan Is Missing (a cautionary tale which explores the perverted dark side of online interactions) and even Bloody Disgusting’s own V/H/S (which features a memorable Screenlife segment directed by Joe Swanberg) would begin to tap into society’s growing obsession with what had once been a niche stereotypically reserved for tech geeks.
Of course, there’s no discussing Screenlife horror without bring up Russian-Kazakh filmmaker Timur Bekmambetov. Known for helming Night Watch and Wanted, this innovative director-turned-producer is a recurring champion of the Screenlife format and rose to horror notoriety after producing 2014’s incredibly successful Unfriended. Directed by Levan Gabriadze, the film tells the story of a group of teenagers who fall victim to a vengeful spirit while chatting online, with the flick’s visuals making heavy use of real computer software. While Unfriended was filmed on a meager $1 million budget, the film’s $62.9 million box-office return suggested that Screenlife movies were more than just a passing fad, so it’s no surprise that a sequel was soon greenlit (as well as a series of cinematic copycats).
Unfriended: Dark Web hit theaters in 2018, replacing the supernatural scares of its predecessor with more believable online threats like stalkers and hackers. It may not have achieved the same financial success as the original, but the film still made impressive use of desktop visuals to tell a legitimately chilling story despite sharing more than a few similarities with 2013’s underseen gem The Den.
Livestream chats can be pretty scary!
Naturally, the Unfriended franchise was only one of several Screenlife projects produced by Bekmambetov. The same year as Dark Web, the filmmaker would also produce Aneesh Chaganty’s Searching, which helped to popularize the format beyond traditional horror circles. An easily digestible thriller that uses social media to unravel a compelling mystery, Searching is currently one of the most successful Screenlife movies ever made, outperforming its predecessors and leading Bekmambetov to sign a five-picture deal with Universal regarding a series of unspecified Screenlife projects.
Beyond studio-backed blockbusters, the late 2010s also saw quite a few indie Screenlife pioneers. Filmmakers like Hannah Macpherson (who directed 2016’s Sickhouse, which is meant to be watched as a giant Snapchat video) and Michelle Iannantuono (creator of the Livescream franchise, which expertly combines online streamer culture with internet creepypastas) make a solid case for the format as a versatile tool that allows low-budget filmmakers to play around with visual storytelling without alienating genre fans. Even when these cinematic experiments don’t completely work, it’s hard to deny the creative charms of unorthodox movies like Nacho Vigalondo’s Open Windows, which reach outside the box when attempting to craft a new breed of tech-based thrillers.
More recently, the Covid-19 pandemic led to a significant boost in Screenlife releases, with studios becoming desperate for readily available horror content that could easily be distributed on streaming platforms. From Eugene Kotlyarenko’s Spree (an underrated satire of modern-day rideshares and streamer culture) to Rob Savage’s Host, which became the Pandemic’s first viral hit and spawned a spiritual successor in the form of this year’s Dashcam, there’s plenty of Screenlife horror to go around these days.
Reaching millions of viewers without the aid of massive marketing campaigns, these peculiar films serve as engaging snapshots of a moment in time, telling appropriately modern stories about the terrors of a screen-obsessed world. And with movies like Bekmambetov’s recent Profile (not to mention his bizarre Shakespeare adaptation R#J) proving that there are still novel thrills to be had in visual storytelling, I can’t wait to see where filmmakers take Screenlife horror next!
Shudder’s ‘Host’
College kids, strippers and vampires—those were Donald P. Borchers’ only requirements when he approached Richard Wenk about writing and directing a movie for New World Pictures. As requested, Wenk cooked up Vamp (1986), a tailor-made blend of the decade’s teen movie craze as well as its horror boom.
Grim and earnest stories were still very much a part of the ’80s horror landscape, yet Vamp is something of a comedy. One difference between it and, say, Saturday the 14th, though, is the former avoids using schtick. Wenk’s movie proves that horror comedies also don’t have to subtract thrills from their recipes. Of course, it takes a minute before reaching that point; college antics and culture shocks preface this one macabre misadventure.
Vamp‘s initial setup is apt for a typical college-set, sex-driven comedy; to bribe their way into a fraternity house, two pledges (Chris Makepeace, Robert Rusler) go looking for some adult entertainment. Without wasting time on any further exposition, the characters embark on an all-in-one-night trip that quickly detours into terror.
To procure their elusive MacGuffin—a stripper willing to gyrate for some frat boys—Keith (Makepeace) and AJ (Rusler), plus a third wheel named Duncan (Gedee Watanabe), trade the safety of their remote college campus for the seediness of some unnamed city. The setting is recognizably L.A. by day, but as soon as night falls, downtown, along with the characters, slips into a kind of surreal universe. Director of photography Elliot Davis gave this early entry on his prolific résumé an unusual yet distinctive look; that Mario Bava-esque, magenta-green lighting is omnipresent, so much so that it’s almost its own character.
Chris Makepeace and Robert Rusler in Vamp
The faint comparisons to Martin Scorsese’s After Hours are merited, although not just because of Vamp’s distinguishing nighttime aesthetic. Save for the primary characters, the supporting roles in Wenk’s movie are also quite colorful and transactional in their behavior. The difference here, though, is the additional urge to ruin Keith and his friends at every turn. Some of that harm is humorous and tolerable enough, whereas the moment Vamp dishes out its first fatality, it’s abundantly clear how this movie qualifies as horror.
Vamp falls into that category of horror movie that reveals its genre with a scream rather than a series of whispers. The opening scene can function as a hint of what lies ahead—things are not at all what they appear to be—but otherwise, Wenk is more than happy to hold off on the horror. When that time does come, though, it catches the viewer off guard. In addition to the pure shock value is that sudden decision to upend the movie’s foremost feature. Or so it would seem.
If afraid of major spoilage, those new to Vamp would be wise to stop reading here. There’s just no skirting around the fact that the central fellowship in this buddy movie hits a serious snag when AJ is killed. That development causes the story to become more of a “long, bad night” journey for Keith and his romantic interest. So while Wenk scores points for subverting expectations, there is also a touch of sadness in his decision. Because if Vamp does anything well, it’s making the characters likable.
Something that comes easily to Vamp—and other teen horror movies from this same era—is its ability to invent young characters worth caring about, or at the very least, are interesting and not so immediately off-putting. More impressive is how Wenk did all this without actually fleshing out those characters. Still and all, Keith and his kind are a grade above cookie-cutter, and in some cases, aren’t completely devoid of growth.
Grace Jones in Vamp
Vamp appeals with an assorted cast of characters. No two are the same, nor are they operating on the same wavelength. The cinematically extroverted AJ, whose actor conveyed charm and vulnerability in near equal amounts, comes alive when he’s at his most undead. Makepeace then makes the chronically cautious Keith a sympathetic fellow, even as he’s more and more affected by the night’s bizarre events. Meanwhile, Duncan is indeed the designated loser of the whole bunch, but Watanabe still manages to humanize him. As a bonus, the role didn’t require him to pull a Long Duk Dong.
As for Dedee Pfeiffer, she is plain adorable as the mysterious After Dark server nicknamed “Amaretto”. She spends all night fixing her dress strap while at the same time trying to get Keith to remember how he knows her. As their offbeat romance grows, it becomes another highlight of this movie. Whether or not Pfeiffer’s character is really a vampire also creates some welcome tension in the story.
Like a lot of its contemporaries, Vamp went on to become a bit of a cult classic. That current status is determined by several factors, but without a doubt, the casting of Grace Jones is the most considerable. The image of her writhing on that unique-looking chair, a Keith Haring original, springs to mind whenever this movie is brought up.
Chris Makepeace, Billy Drago and Paunita Nichols in Vamp
Prior to that first display of unequivocal horror, local vampire queen Katrina (Jones) took to the stage and delivered a strip show like no other. One would expect nothing less from that renowned model and performance artist. By now reports of Jones’ tardiness on set are no secret, yet it’s also hard to deny her commitment to the part of Katrina. It was, in fact, Jones who took charge of her character’s appearance—on top of Haring painting her body and that now-iconic chair, she had Andy Warhol handle her costuming. And not too many actors could seize a room’s attention without saying a single line of dialogue.
In 2022, Vamp received a retrospective novelization from Encyclopocalypse. This literary union of preexisting source material—Wenk’s original screenplay—and new ideas from author Christian Francis amounts to a more comprehensive visit to the After Dark Club. The basic story there is no different than what’s shown on screen; however, Francis gets creative with the characters’ origins and designs, and he enhances a number of key scenes.
The novelization expands on the urban and social decay of the main setting, and supplies a background for the After Dark Club. Sandy Baron’s character, Katrina’s emcee and familiar, is given ample motivation for sticking around; up until the fiery end, he is loyal to his friend and former business partner “Squeak”, who looks like he was “fed through a combine harvester, and left as nothing more than a heap of mangled remains”. Then there is Billy Drago’s character Snow, the leader of a street gang called The Dragons. His reason for menacing Keith and AJ is more altruistic than in the movie; he and his peers act tough to scare off any potential food for the vampires.
Lisa Lyon in Vamp
If not for all the backstories, Francis’ Vamp would be a hell of a lot shorter. Instead, this tie-in read dives into how AJ met Keith—the orphaned Anthony Joseph hailed from a broken home back in Brooklyn—and how their friendship flourished over the years. Keith’s archership is no longer just an assumed part of his entire being; it’s a confidence-building extracurricular for a boy who got picked on before coming into the protection of the new kid in town. These supplemental, in-depth looks at the protagonists, plus their close connection, are maybe unnecessary. The movie already did a fair and concise job of addressing their platonic intimacy without the need for flashbacks and insights, specifically in that scene where AJ lays it all out as he sacrifices himself.
Where the novelization gets off course is its approach to the minor characters. Intermittently backstorying the likes of Katrina’s indentured servants, Seko (Leila Hee Olsen) and Vlad (Brad Logan), ends up disturbing the flow of the writing. Was it absolutely essential that readers know Vlad was the Grand Duke of the House of Romanov, or how Snow’s accomplice Maven (Paunita Nichols) became so dentally challenged? No, not really. However, one’s mileage with these random biographies may vary.
The novelization is a more substantial experience, but for a movie like Vamp, less is more. And as plentiful as they are, it never simply coasts on its campy charms, either. The character work sits comfortably in that realm between cursory and meticulous, the script is sharper than first realized, and Greg Cannom’s vampire makeup is straightforward yet effective. Most of all, the movie didn’t squander its out-of-the-box concept. Richard Wenk made his vision of a “comic nightmare in which just about anything that can go wrong does” come true, and it is very enjoyable.
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