Father of Horror: Ode to my Dad

I owe my love of horror to my father.

For personal reasons, this year has been a tough one, so I find myself pouring over nostalgic memories and dwelling quite a bit on the past. While trying to remember exactly how I first discovered my favorite horror films, I made an unexpected revelation: Dad helped make me the horror fan I am today.

Now, Dad is not a horror fan. Except for movies as disposable entertainment, my father has never expressed much interest in any genre of art and literature (especially books). I love my dad and he's been nothing but supportive and good to me, but we don't share many interests as far as media is concerned. Yet, when I think back to my favorite horror films -- the films that profoundly skewed my interest in movies towards the fantastical and horrific-- it turns out that they were all recommendations from my father.

1.) Night of the Living Dead (1968)

Growing up, I was familiar with the concept of zombies; it was the decade of Thriller after all. Nevertheless, I was a young boy interested in monsters and in love with Halloween but completely oblivious to zombie movies, the name George A. Romero, and his monumental influence on not just zombie films but all of horror. One Halloween night when I was too old for trick or treating and too young to go out alone, my Dad called me over. He told me that PBS was showing a film called Night of the Living Dead. He told me, if I recall correctly, that he had seen it as a boy about my age. Knowing my very vague interest in horror, he said I should go downstairs and check it out. I went to the TV room, turned on PBS, and was taken away by one of the most profoundly interesting horror films I had ever seen.It was definitely my first black and white horror film, and it may just have been my first "adult" horror film. Did Dad remember the cannibalism and gore? The bleak ending? If he did, he didn't prepare me for it.

I have been a lover of zombie media ever since. I don't know if I have come to zombies on my own (at least not with the same love), but my Dad's recommendation of Night came at a time where I was impressionable. It completely captured my imagination. Without Dad's recommendation, my other site -- The Zed Word zombie blog -- may not exist and I probably would not have become part of Horror in the Hammer through their annual Hamilton Zombie Walk. Anything I do relating to zombies, and all the friends I have met through zombie fan communities, I owe in no small part to my father.

2.) Creepshow (1982)

My memory of first discovering Creepshow is less distinct, but Dad figures prominently. At this point in my life, I was reading a lot of Stephen King (mostly books borrowed from my cousin). Dad probably had no idea that Creepshow was directed by George Romero and written by Stephen King, but he saw that Creepshow was playing on TV and pointed me in the right direction. I had never heard of the film before. It solidified my love of George A. Romero's film work but also the stories of Stephen King. It also inspired me to learn more about the golden age of horror comics (which dovetailed nicely into my interest in superhero comics at the time). Appropriately, my favorite segment of Creepshow is "Father's Day," and I owe its discovery to my father.

3) The Fly (1986)

"Just wait for the arm-wrestling scene."

Again, because I was growing up in the days before DVDs when our budget for VHS rentals was controlled by my parents who were not keen on renting horror films, I came to find some of my favorite horror films through TV. If I remember correctly, I saw a commercial for The Fly broadcast on TV, but the ad didn't give much info on the film save for some tantalizing and bizarre images. I remember asking Dad if he had seen it. He had, but he was unwilling to tell me many details. He said it as science fiction / horror (so I would probably like it), but he left me with one tantalizing tidbit: "Just wait for the arm-wrestling scene." What could that mean?

The Fly was probably the first gross-out film I ever saw. Watching Brundle slough off body parts as he mutates into a hideous fly creature that vomits acid on his food and enemies was like nothing I had ever seen before. The images in this movie (Brundle's peeling fingernails, the arm wrestling scene, the birth of the maggot baby) are embedded so deeply in my mind I can recall them with crystal clarity at a moment's notice. Even today, when I look at the stubborn hair growing on my shoulders as I age (thanks for the genes, Dad!), I can't help but think of Brundle discovering the first wiry fly hairs protruding from his own flesh.

Like Night of the Living Dead, The Fly also captured my imagination with its ideas. The terrifying but exhilarating avenues of body as a site of horror ingrained within me a love of body horror that compelled me to seek out Cronenberg's other work, namely Videodrome and Naked Lunch. Though my discovery of Cronenberg as a filmmaker, I was also exposed to the contributions that Canadians have made to horror. Viewing The Fly was, if you excuse the pun, a transformative experience. Had Dad had not made that cryptic comment about the arm wrestling scene, I might not have stayed up to watch The Fly.

So, this Father's Day I have to give thanks to my dad. Although we never discussed horror movies, in his own way he shaped my horror fandom. By recommending to me Night of the Living Dead, Creepshow, and The Fly, Dad unwittingly put me on the path to some great and horrifying experiences. Although we don't share many interests, we do share this odd and until now unspoken connection. He passed down to me these films that were memorable to him so that I could make them a part of myself. When I think of these films, I think of him.

And for that, I am very thankful.

Happy Father's Day, Dad!

Let the Right Remake In

This article originally appeared in the December-January 2010 issue of the zine Scream Scene, but as we move closer to the release of the high-profile Nightmare on Elm Street remake, I thought I'd repost it to explain how I feel about horror remakes

As I settled in with a few beers to write an opinion article for this issue of Scream Scene, I learned that the American remake of the brilliant and beautiful Swedish vampire film Let the Right One In had just gone into production. Entitled Let Me In, the American remake of Let the Right One In moves the location from Sweden to America. According to the filmmakers, the movie will “forge a unique identity for Let Me In, placing it firmly in an American context.” In other words, they are going to dumb it down and play to the lowest common denominator as usual. Just look at what Rob Zombie did to Halloween.

I was so pissed off at the thought of what an American version of Let the Right One In might look like that I couldn’t bring myself to write anything that wasn’t a beer-fueled tirade. So, to take my mind off the infuriating number of horror remakes coming out of Hollywood, I went riffling through my DVD collection to find a good and original movie to watch. As a result, I came upon one of my favorite movies of all time: The Fly. David Cronenberg’s The Fly. The Fly remake.

It was then that I realized that, at my core, I am a blustering hypocrite when it comes to remakes. For all the spite I throw at horror remakes, some of my favorite sci-fi / horror films are remakes. Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1978), The Thing (1982), The Blob (1988), Night of the Living Dead (1990), Dawn of the Dead (2008)—I consider all of these films to be good or great movies. So what does this mean? Am I actually in favor of remakes?

Let’s be clear: I still don’t like the idea of remakes. Worse than sequels, remakes are often cash grabs that allow major studios to recycle ideas, plots, and characters with little originality or innovation. Often times, such as with the upcoming Hellraiser and Nightmare on Elm Street remakes, the original films still stand the test of time and don’t require a remake, reboot, or “reimagining.” Thankfully, when the remakes of high-caliber films turn out to suck, at least the original films are still accessible to the public. The same cannot be said for foreign-language films remade in North America. For example, Spanish-language horror film REC was remade into Quarantine in 2008. Quarantine’s characters, plot, pacing, and even sets were almost exactly the same as those in REC, yet the remake failed to replicate the original’s charm. Sony could have just released REC to the public if they weren’t afraid audiences would be turned off by subtitles. Therefore, not only does Quarantine get to make bank off the story and characters from the original film while assuming an American audience needs a “dumbed down” story, the original writers Jaume Balagueró, Luis Berdejo, and Paco Plaza remain virtual unknowns. REC was released by Sony several months after Quarantine hit DVD, but the REC DVD was released to little promotional fanfare.

I have a significant beef with remakes, yet I’ve come to realize that as much as I hate the idea of remakes it’s not fair to attack remakes themselves until they’re released. While the majority of remakes have been tepid and shallow, every remake has the potential to be another The Fly or The Thing. Despite every instinct I have otherwise, Let Me In may turn out to be an even more dazzling and beautiful take on the vampire genre than the original Let the Right One In.

Regardless, there are three things fans can do to offset the effect of terrible remakes.

1.) Don’t go see every horror remake that comes out. If you do, you help fuel the remake hype machine with your dollars. Even if you’re disappointed upon leaving the theatre, you’ve helped turn a shitty movie into “The #1 Movie in Canada” for a weekend. Wait to hear some word of mouth before you fork over your hard-earned cash.

2.) Support independent and foreign horror. At the same time as I caution you against indiscriminate consumption of horror remakes, do not be content with Hollywood’s attempt to sell you stuff you’ve seen before. If you want to take a risk, take a risk on something foreign and independent when you go to the video store. There are a host of great independent features and foreign films that deserve to be seen. Even if you don’t like the films, at least you’re rewarding originality

3.) See the originals. Whether you like or dislike a remake, take the time to seek out the original film. It may be old, it may be foreign, or it may be independent, but if a remake was intriguing enough to get your butt into the theatre or to get a DVD into your player, seek out the original film(s) .

In short, I’ve learned not to rage against specific remakes until I’ve seen them. I like too many horror remakes to say that all remakes suck.