Masturbators of Horror: Genre pioneers vs. formula filmmaking

One of the most singularly satisfying experiences in life is beholding a work created by an artist doing what she or he wants to do. The painters and sculptors we study in Art History classes are almost universally the people who stopped one day, put down the brushes and chisels, and said to themselves “y’know, I don’t think I’m going to do this kind of work anymore. I think I’m going to create something I want to look at, not something just like everyone else is doing.”

Many of the directors employed to create episodes for Showtime’s Masters of Horror series have had moments like that. Take Tobe Hooper for example. Texas Chainsaw Massacre was – to put it politely – rough around the edges. But despite its technical weaknesses, it marked a significant moment in the development of the horror genre. If nothing else, Hooper showed what could be done without ceding creative control to a studio in exchange for studio money.

That isn’t necessarily to say that one must be an outsider artist in movie-land in order to produce a horror picture that’s worth a look. John Carpenter and Joe Dante both did much of their better early work with significant financing. Still, one can’t help but walk away from Escape from New York or Gremlins with the notion that it was the picture the director intended, not just some piece of purely commercial crap designed by a committee based on marketing data.

And that’s what makes Masters of Horror so deeply disappointing. Series creator Mick Garris does an outstanding job of assembling many of the directors who made the genre what it is today. Hooper, Carpenter and Dante are joined by other luminaries such as Stuart Gordon, John Landis and Dario Argento. While I don’t universally love these guys – in fact, only on a good day can I even stand Argento’s work – I recognize how important their contributions are.

But there’s nothing important going on in this set. Indeed, most of the entries are formulaic to a fault. Start with a story that’s either already familiar (such as Richard Matheson’s “Dance of the Dead” or Ambrose Bierce’s “The Damned Thing”) or at least easy to digest. Hire some familiar actors in order to get a “hey, that’s that guy from Phantasm” reaction from the audience. Throw in some gore. Throw in some partial female frontal. Call it done.

The nudity drew my attention more than anything else. Lord knows after three or four decades watching horror movies, I’ve grown accustomed to the boob shot. But particularly in the first season, they’re included whether they make any sense or not. Obviously plots such as “Dance of the Dead” and “Haeckel’s Tale” need some measure of nudity. And you can’t ask Argento to make anything that doesn’t include at least one naked woman being brutalized (well, you can ask for it, but you ain’t gonna get it).

In other entries, however, the sex is at best an awkward graft. For example, the plot of “Pick Me Up” has to be given an unnecessary twist in order to work in anything risqué. Ditto for “Incident On and Off a Mountain Road,” where the ugly rape goes way farther than it had to just to make the plot point that needed to be made. And H.P. Lovecraft managed to get all the way through “Dreams in the Witch House” without any female characters – nude or otherwise – less than a couple centuries old.

I understand the thinking at work here. Even if you aren’t the world’s biggest pickle fan, you still want them on a Quarter Pounder. You’d miss them if they weren’t there. After all, you paid for them so you ought to get them. Likewise when you turn on a horror picture you expect some blood, some guts, and at least one woman with her shirt off.

This approach does a disservice to the story-telling process. If McDonald’s, impressed by consumer demand for burgers with pickles, started sticking pickles into everything it makes, you’d get unpalatable crud like Chicken Pickle McNuggets, Egg McPickle Muffins, and Hot Fudge Pickle Sundaes.

Worse than making productions at best odd and at worst unpalatable, formula filmmaking completely robs the “food” of its flavor. Aside from the inclusion of “See you next Wednesday,” Landis is indistinguishable from Carpenter, who in turn is hard to tell from Garris, and so on. Takashi Miike’s uniquely Japanese look and feel is distinct, but everyone else could have traded scripts and shot more or less the same productions.

The result is a bit like watching Picasso do a paint-by-numbers or beholding Rodin’s Chip-a-Way figure of a football player. If you’re going to go to all the trouble of hiring the people who made horror movies what they are today, at least give them a bit more room to work their magic. If all you want is formula hacks, there are lots of guys out there willing to simulate movie-making rather than actually doing it.

To be sure, the second season branched out a bit. And to be completely fair, I should admit that Netflix marred the viewing experience for “Pro-Life” and “Right to Die” by screwing up the sound on the Instant View versions. The discs also feature extras such as PDFs of the scripts that commend them over instant viewing.

Overall, however, there’s no getting around it: these are cookie-cutter productions from people who are capable of much better work.