Cultural Labyrinth…Organic Machines

Splatter films draw from the rich tradition of the Horror genre. The beginnings of Hollywood’s modern horror trajectory is initiated by Hitchcock’s Psycho (1960) and The Birds (1963), situating its locus of the monstrous, “the visual site of horrific attraction and repulsion,” within the “domestic structure of social relations—the nuclear family” (Sobchack, 1987, p. 176). As a postmodernist conception that is hyperaware of its complicity within the genre, the splatter film reflexively moves away from the generic conventions of this period. Brottman terms this “horror/exploitation genre” as “Cinema vomitif:” a “series of real acts—both on-screen and inside the bodies of the audience—involving the participation of real human bodies” fragmented through violence, sex, panic, distortion, and death (1966, p. 4). In this essay, will demonstrate how the excessive violence spectacle that is emphasised over narrative within the splatter genre is a conscious effort that utilises postmodernist techniques to the effect of offering a reflexive play within its construction and spectatorship.

I shall refer to Raimi’s Evil Dead (1981), Evil Dead II (1987) and Army of Darkness (1992), a splatter trilogy that is demonstrative of reflexivity in relation to the horror genre and within the dialectical dynamics of the trilogy itself. Firstly, I will discuss how reflexive group-like response is created through a play with suspense, an emphasis on body horror, intertextual references and a shared knowledge of horror’s generic conventions. Next, I will demonstrate how the fragmented narrative infuses a game-like interactivity by demanding an intellectual reconstructive response from the spectators. I will conclude with the assertion that with an acknowledgement of its complicity within the horror genre, splatter films represent a creative and critical response by playfully and reflexively engaging the audience in processes of spectatorship.

Dika states that in the horror film, “the audience does not merely ‘root’ for the ‘home team’ (the hero) in silence; instead, it behaves boisterously” (1990, p. 17). This phenomenon is representative of a group-like interactivity that situates the effect of the film not within a closed narrative and the psyche of the single spectator, but within the social field of the cinema auditorium itself. In general, the darkness of the cinema implements an aura of placidity through the suspension of material reality into filmic reality. Thus, the spectator’s senses revolving around human contact and presence within the cinema is disrupted through a projection of effect into the enjoyment of the film itself. However, spectators of splatter films approach it with knowledge of the implications of the horror genre. They are aware that the “primary aim in its telling is to generate suspense, shock and horror” (Brophy, 1983, p. 87). Thus, while there is a multiplicity of motivations and expectations for the more general Hollywood product undefined by genre, the spectator of horror is aware of what to expect and “not without powers of discrimination” (Paul, 1994, p. 17). This metaphorically reduces the ‘darkness’ of the cinema as the spectator indulges in the film in the reflexive presence of the audience.  Dika states, “the predictability of the films’ elements encourage a play on seeing and not seeing, knowing and not knowing, that raises the level of view interaction with the films” (1990, p. 128). The horror fan also reflexively discriminates by cheering in acknowledgement when such deployment of suspense is successful and jeering when its not.

When Ash and his counterparts enter the typical abandoned house in Evil Dead, the audience is suspended within a state of tension through the absence of the horrific. But as mentioned above, with the film’s complicity within the horror genre, spectators are aware of the gradual immersion in terror. Scott opens the front door, exposing a smoky room that contains a stuffed ox mounted in the foreground. Within the garage, he finds an array of saws, chains and bone-like fragments hanging from the ceiling. Thus, the spectator is teased through the deployment of semantic elements that recalls Bateman’s obsession with taxidermy in Psycho and the setting from Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Within this juncture, the threat of horror is situated within the exterior of the house as established by free-floating point-of-view shots coupled with a monstrous voice. Soon after, Cheryl ventures into the woods, signalling the advent of the horrific punch line. She is held in bondage by animated tree roots that spread her legs apart and attempt to rape her. She escapes but gradually becomes possessed and drives a pencil into Linda’s ankle. The camera captures the oozing blood in extreme close-up. The remainder of the film presents an onslaught of such bodily horrific spectacular sequences with abundance in blood, gore and dismemberment.

Within its primary construction, Evil Dead “immerse[s] its audiences in an ‘anticipatory mood’ or ambience that [seemingly] endures across the text” (Hills, 2005, p. 25). As mentioned above, the audience is reflexive of their participation within the generated suspense. They discriminate on the creativity and success of its effect. However, rather than simply utilising suspense through a play of seeing and not seeing, Evil Dead eventually plunges into an excess of perversity and violence. This demands an updated reading on group-response. Williams measures the success of the body genre that comprises the splatter film through “the degree to which the audience sensation mimics what is seen on screen” (1991, p. 4). Evil Dead demands a shared spectator response because it situates its locus of horror within the body, a materiality inhibited by all. When the pencil is driven into Linda’s ankle, the audience collectively screams in pain. Through a relation to their own bodies, they communally acknowledge the bodily sensation the scene generates. The act of discriminative connoisseurship on its effectiveness is reflected when the splatter film “offer[s] a real sense of exhilaration” by testing “how far they can push the boundaries to provoke a cry of ‘Oh, gross!’ as a sign of approval” (Paul, 1994, p. 20). Secondly, the destruction of bodies also represents liberation from its complicity within the horror genre. Brophy states that splatter films utilise the theme of disembodiment as a signifier for “the presence of emptiness,” in which “pleasure is generated by a certain detachment from and bemusement with the saturated effects of the genre’s history” as our “knowledge of our own bodies” is put in relation to the chopped up cinematic bodies (1988, p. 59). When Ash picks up the chainsaw and slices the conventional horror protagonists who are possessed, he figuratively breaks free from the boundaries set by the conventions of the horror genre. As the spectators are familiar with such conventions, their immersion with disembodiment represents a reflexive group-response in the destruction of generic history to the effect of opening up the possibilities of a new brand of horror. The liberation of the horror genre is evident within such disembodying practices. The audience is presented with the sub-genre of splatter horror. More importantly, an emphasis in the spectacle of disembodiment that fragments the narrative instils the dynamic reflexivity of interactivity. I will elaborate on this further on.

For now, I will demonstrate how the audience is distanced from horror conventions through a relation with Ash, the meta-chopper who familiarises himself with the formulaic repetition through the trilogy’s digesis. Wood conceptualises two prominent formulas as the “violence-against-woman” film that projects violence on females who fail to fulfil their traditional roles, and the “tennie-kill-pic” that projects violence on sexually promiscuous teenagers (1983, p. 63-65). Evil Dead draws from such conventions with its cast of teenagers. Shelly and Scott engage in promiscuous sex as the menacing point-of-view shots observe from the exterior. Ash is somewhat different. His closeness with Linda is consummated with sincerity. As the sexually promiscuous teenagers are possessed, Ash goes through a crash-course on the dos and don’ts in the horror genre. He learns the rule of disembodiment, becomes hyperaware of the film’s play with suspense, stays away from promiscuous sex, and picks up his weapon of choice, the chainsaw. In Evil Dead II, the spectators are presented with a familiar situation and Ash moves around with a sense of deja-vu, as if the knowledge accumulated in Evil Dead is situated within his subconscious. He soon implements such knowledge, as demonstrated by his no-nonsense and swift slaying of the zombies, utilising the chainsaw that was proven effective in Evil Dead. His carnage and bravery positions him above the antagonising elements and the audience is pleased and repelled by his acts of violence. By Army of Darkness, Ash’s expertise becomes second nature and he becomes the meta-chopper worshipped as a God by the uninitiated medieval crowd that signifies the dead body of the Horror tradition. As the spectators are accustomed to Ash’s learnt knowledge that distances him from the effect of horror, they associate him as a figuration of their shared reflexivity. Thus, the Evil Dead trilogy engages its spectators by plunging them into the digesis through the reflexive point-of-view of Ash. This lays weight to the assertion made of disembodiment as a significative destruction of horror conventions. As Ash becomes reflexive, it becomes easier for reflexive spectators to enter his psyche. Arnzen states, “The game at ‘play’ in a splatter film is one that teases the spectator’s ability to predict outcomes” (1994, p. 181). While such terror games exist within the spectator’s reflexivity through an aura of suspense, its lack of effect through its repetition gives way to a game in knowing as mentioned above. In associating with Ash and his hyperawareness, the audience feels distanced and knowledgeable. Thus, when Ash brutally disembodies his enemies, spectators partake in the slaying of what is known. Suspense gives way to reflexivity in the Evil Dead trilogy.

A game in knowing is enforced through intertextuality. Carroll asserts, “contemporary horror often refers to the history of genre quite explicitly” (1990, p. 221). The Evil Dead trilogy utilises this allusionistic strategy, offering the spectators an intertextual environment that encourages them to draw on their pre-conceived notions of the alluded texts when viewing the trilogy. Earlier on, I mentioned the allusions to Psycho and Texas Chainsaw Massacre in Evil Dead. In addition, a copy of the horror magazine, Fangoria, is visible in Ash’s car and a poster of The Hills have Eyes is revealed within the cellar. This communicates to the audience the film’s acknowledgement within the Horror tradition and teases them by promising to inflict a larger dose of horror.  The Fangoria reference also hints at “fan practices of aestheticization” that “frame[s] horror’s pleasures within discourses of fan agency, discrimination and expertise” (Hill, 2005, p. 89). This acknowledges how connoisseurship among spectators determines the trends in horror.

 As there are action car chases, romantic sequences, medieval settings and comedy, the intertextual references “pastiches not just the horror genre but also the film genre in toto” (Arnzen, 1994, p. 180). Altman’s semantic/syntactic model that account for films “that innovate by combining the syntax of one genre with the semantics of another” is useful in charting the effect (1989, p. 97). In Evil Dead II, Ash disembodies his own possessed hand with a chainsaw. His face is shot in close-up as blood splatters. He laughs in a demented way and says, “Who’s laughing now?”  The semantic element of laughter from the comedy genre is introduced into the disembodiment syntax of splatter horror. There is an interchange in effect in which “the humor might be horrific while the horror might be humorous,” resulting in an acknowledgement of horror’s “saturation of all its codes and conventions” as “the departure point for viewing pleasure (Brophy, 1983, p. 95). Thus, intertextuality enables a reflexively dynamic and dialectical form of spectatorship.

Evil Dead II functions as an uncanny double to Evil Dead. The narrative follows the trajectory of its precursor with Ash and Linda travelling towards the abandoned house. The book of the dead is discovered, giving rise to the countless acts of possession, resulting in disembodiment. Ash is caught within the same situation. This is an intertextual reference or play within the digesis of the trilogy. However, the spectator is aware of the subtle differences. Ash is the only character in his own role. Another actress is casted as Linda. Scott and Shelly who are introduced within different roles enter the house much later. Linda gets possessed early in the narrative. Ash decapitates her and she animates into a headless zombie. Thus, the effect of bodily horror is creatively reinstated. Ndalianis states that “the contradictions, the plays on repetition, the undercutting of expectations, all have the effect of making us contemplate the production of generic ‘meaning’ and how we extract it (2003, p. 512). This infuses a reflexive interactivity within the spectators who are made to consciously assemble the puzzle and weigh in the similarities and differences between both films to make sense out of it. To accomplish this the spectator distances from the digesis to adopt “an aerial perspective” to reveal that the prior confusion is “an assumption of invariability: that the sequel is the unoriginal copy of the original” (Ndalianis, 2004, p. 78). This realisation results in an appreciation of the creative differences through the act of discrimination.  It is not a blank referral and parody, but a reflexive postmodern process of “ana-lysing, ana-mnesing, of reflecting” (Lyotard, 1988, p. 145).

The Evil Dead trilogy fixates itself with an excess of gore in expense of the narrative. It haphazardly establishes three different looks by its tracking shots; the killer, the protagonist and the audience. These looks interchange rapidly, destabilising the narrative and heightening the ruptures of gore. In a particular scene in Evil Dead II, a projector that is focused on Ash is literally stained with blood. This demonstrates a self-reflexivity in the films fragmented construction. Fraser describes such fragmentation as montages of “subject camera movement… cross-cuttings from hunted to hunter, and ominous juxtapositions and contrasts” (1990. p. 46). Arnzen asserts that this marks an absence of a centre (1994, p. 178). Rather than disorientating the spectator, it corresponds to the death of the author and the birth of the reflexive spectator. Derrida conceptualises how the absence of a centre or origin can be approached through “the joyous affirmation of the play of the world” and “the affirmation of a world of signs without fault, without truth, and without origin which is offered to an active interpretation” (1978, p. 292). As the fragmentation in Evil Dead suspends the significative elements of a narrative within a free-floating chopped up text, the spectators’ faculties of imagination and interpretation are made active. They reflexively play “narrative games” and “also ‘fill in the blanks’ between fragments of the text” (Arnzen, 1994, p. 182). There is an endless possibility of play for the spectator who can adopt any one of the cinematic looks; being the killer at one moment and the protagonist in another. Thus, the postmodern narrative game play of splatter films encourages the dynamic reflexivity of multi-perspectives.

The accounts of reflexivity in construction and spectatorship mentioned in this essay operate in relation to the saturation of the horror genre’s conventions. In this essay, I have demonstrated how splatter horror retains an aura of suspense that resembles a terror game that plays on what’s seen and what’s not. As the spectators are familiar with such conventions, they are united through their reflexivity and the partaking in such terror games becomes a responsive act of spectatorship that celebrates its effect. The Evil Dead trilogy, as representative of the postmodern splatter genre, offers more approaches to reflexivity. A base neuro-physiological response is achieved by fixating the locus of horror on the body. Using their own bodies as a reference point, spectators discriminate on the effectiveness of such deployment of gore, cheering or screaming in the process. They imaginatively engage with their thresholds of pain, challenging the filmmaker to transcend it. This represents a dynamic relationship between the site of construction and reception. I have also discussed how the act of disembodiment signifies the liberation from horror’s genre history. Next, I demonstrated how in reflecting the reflexive spectator, Ash becomes the hyperaware meta-chopper by learning the codes and conventions of horror through the digesis of the trilogy. In association, the spectator plays a game in knowing and generic conventions are approached with irony. I also discussed how allusions allow spectators to bring in meanings from other texts into the trilogy. Intertextuality is also utilised to challenge and reflect fan practices, testing their knowledge of the genre. The infusing of semantic elements from other genres allows a dialectical play in effect that induces pleasure through an acknowledgement of the saturation of horror conventions. I mentioned how the similarities between Evil Dead and Evil Dead II engage the spectators’ intellectual faculties in pointing out the differences. Lastly, fragmentation of narrative results in a loss of referent, allowing a playful reconstruction through the spectator’s intuition and desires. I hope this essay is sufficient in arguing for the creativity of the Evil Dead trilogy. The saturated history of the horror tradition results in a playful postmodernist reflexivity within its construction and more importantly, of spectatorship. Thus, I declare that horror is a vibrant, self-critical and playful genre that constantly renews itself. Its incarnation as splatter horror moves the genre towards greater subversion. Relying heavily on reflexive spectatorship, it detotalises its history and the passivity of Hollywood’s ideological product. It is fascinating that such tendencies taking place within popular culture. It is truly a complicit critique.

 

References

Arnzen, Michael. (Winter, 1994). Who’s Laughing Now? Journal of Popular Film and Television, 21(4), 176-184.

Brophy, Philip. (1983). Horrality—the Textuality of the Contemporary Horror Film. Art and Text, 11, 85-95.

Brophy, Philip. (1988). Bodily Horrible: Some Notions, Some Points, Some Examples. Intervention, 21/22. 58-67.

Brottman, Mikita. (1966). Offensive Films: Towards an Anthropology of Cinema Vomitif. Westport: Greenwood Press.

Carroll, Noel. (1990). The Philosophy of Horror. New York: Routledge.

Derrida, Jacques. (1978). “Structure, Sign and Play in the Discourse of the Human Sciences”. in Writing and Difference. London: RKP. pp 278-293.

Dika, Vera. (1990). Games of Terror: Halloween, Friday the 13th, and the Films of the Stalker Cycle. Rutherford: Fairleigh Dickson University Press.

Fraser, John. (1990). Watching Horror Movies. Michigan Quarterly Review, 24(1), 39-54.

Hills, Matt. (2005). The Pleasures of Horror. London: Continuum.

Lyotard, Jean-Francois. (1998). “The Postmodern Condition”. in Seidman, Steven. (ed.). The Postmodern Turn: New Perspectives on Social Theory. UK: Cambridge University Press.

Ndalianis, Angela. (2003). “The Rules of the Game: Evil Dead II… Meet thy Doom” in Jenkins, H., McPherson, T. & Shattuc, J. (eds.). Hop on Pop: The Politics and Pleasures of Popular Cultures. London: Duke University Press.

Ndalianis, Angela. (2004). Neo-Baroque Aesthetics and Contemporary Entertainment. Massachusetts: The Massachusetts Institute of Technology Press.

Paul, William. (1994). “Rousing Rabble” & “A New Language” in. Laughing Screaming: Modern Hollywood Horror and Comedy. New York: Columbia University Press.  pp. 3-35.

Sobchack, Vivian. (1987). Bringing it all Back Home: Family, Economy and Generic Exchange. in Waller, G. A. (ed.). American Horrors: Essays on the Modern American Horror Film. Chicago: University of Illinois Press.

Williams, Linda. (Summer, 1991). Film Bodies: Gender, Genre, and Excess. Film Quarterly, 44(4), 2-13.

Wood, Robin. (September, 1983). Beauty Bests the Beast. American Film, 8(10), 63-65.