Spoilers ahead for the original Friday the 13th. Which, for the record, came out 40 years ago. Sorry not sorry.
My partner and I have been working from home together for the last four weeks or something (idk what even is time anymore), and almost that entire time I’ve been depressed.
Don’t get me wrong, we’re in a very privileged position where we both have work and have the ability to stay home. But I have friends and family who aren’t so lucky, friends and family who are high-risk, as well as Wisconsin’s dangerous election filling me with endless dread and worry. My chest is tightening up just typing it out. So while things could definitely be worse for me on an individual level, my anxiety about our collective present and future suffering can be debilitating.
All of this, and there is little I can do. I feel completely helpless and sometimes I’m paralyzed by panic. I’ve barely been able to roll out of bed some days, and find it hard to do almost anything that isn’t Animal Crossing, which I played for probably four or five hours today before forcing myself to sit and write this blog.
You would think that now, of all times, I would stop with the horror movies. But no, I got a random burst of energy the other night and watched Friday the 13th for the first time. And y’know what? It was fucking great. It was comfort food. It was popcorn.
For an hour and a half, my biggest problem was a mystery murderer and got to yell at my TV that MAYBE NOW IS NOT THE TIME FOR STRIP MONOPOLY, HORNY TEENS. For the first time in weeks I was faced with a battle that was horrible and horrifying, but winnable. Where the solution isn’t just surviving, but taking action. You can’t punch COVID-19. You can’t punch your way out of quarantine. You know what you can do? Chop Pamela Voorhees’ fucking head off before she murders you (and then take a nap in a canoe? I do not understand).
But more than that, horror is about building and releasing tension. In the real world, I’ve been tense for almost a month with no relief, just more things to worry about as the days pass. Horror (specifically formulaic slashers), weirdly, gives me space to relax where the real world won’t, even if it was slipped between the brutal murder of horny teens.
The build and release of tension is inherent in a lot of storytelling, but gets dialed up to 11 in horror. Think of the last 20 minutes of the movie where we’re down to just the final girl and the killer, which in Friday the 13th looks like this:
-OH NO Alice has found the dead bodies of her friends! She barricades herself in the cabin.
-EVEN MORE OH NO a body is flung through the window, forcing Alice to run outside
-RELIEF! There’s a car outside! With nice lady Pamela Voorhees! She says she will help!
-OH NO the lady is actually kinda creepy
-EVEN MORE OH NO the lady is gonna kill Alice!
-RELIEF! Alice is able to get the upper hand and get away!
-OH NO the lady is still coming to get her
(repeat x2)
-RELIEF! Alice finds a canoe and tries to go out into the water where she’d be harder to murder? I guess?
-OH NO Pamela Voorhees is hearty as fuck and even though she’s been knocked out like three times SHE IS BACK AND CAN STILL DECENTLY FIGHT
-RELIEF! Alice chops Mrs. Voorhees’ head off! She’s probably not coming back from that!
-RELIEF! Alice takes her canoe out onto the water and takes a nice nap
-OH NO! Pamela’s drowned child pops up and drags her under the water!
-RELIEF! She wakes up in the hospital, safe.
I’m not sure any of this is helpful. I’ve been trying to pinpoint why horror speaks to me so much as a genre, and this is one of the reasons. I get to have that tension – release cycle completed, instead of wallowing in tension.
This is a very long post. As per usual, I have many feelings.
Stay safe. Stay well.
Sad Magical Creatures 