Trash Horror Defined: The Example of Cold Blooded

Both Trash Horror and Horror Trash are common terms. I'll use Trash Horror in this post, because I'm focusing on horror films and so "trash" is the qualifier.

How to define the Trash Horror subgenre? Many Trash Horror films are funny, but not all, so while Trash Horror and Comedic Horror overlap, each subgenre has its own defining criteria.

A great Trash Horror film is a glorious failure. Several elements are required.

* The budget is usually minuscule.

* Production values are rough. Actors can either chew scenery or do an impression of wood, but they must never display emotional depth, subtlety, or talent. (Re-Animator's stellar cast disqualifies it as Trash Horror).

* There should be ambition -- a filmmaker whose vision extends beyond his abilities.

* And for true Trash Horror greatness, that vision should be outré -- too crazy for anyone to take seriously.

* Nevertheless, there must be sincerity. As with the Great Pumpkin's choice of pumpkin patches, great Trash Horror displays sincere artistic effort and love of horror.

* Finally, the result must entertain (e.g., Blood Feast, Don't Look in the Basement, Horror High, Basket Case, Shock 'Em Dead.)

 

Kidd Tommy's Cold Blooded pays homage to both Horror High and Shock 'Em Dead. Set in the 1980s, it's the tale of Moonie (Teva White), a young mad scientist who also manages her boyfriend's rock band. Then Rick (Nolan Potter) dumps Moonie for a hot blonde, and she concocts a potion that turns Rick into a lizard-man -- leading to rock & roll stardom and a trail of dead bodies.

But it would be inaccurate to call Cold Blooded a failure in the true Trash Horror sense. The film is also a "genre parody" -- a film that painstakingly mimics past genres, eras, and cinematic styles. Examples include Shafted (1970s blaxploitation), Isle of the Damned (1970s Italian cannibal horror), Automatons (1950s robot sci-fi), Man of the Century (1930s musical comedies), and Francesca (1970s Italian giallo). What these films have in common is a love for their source material.

That same love shines through Cold Blooded. Writer/director Tommy's film looks to have been shot in the 1980s and distributed on VHS. You have the hair styles and fashion, the hair band, the video store, and the color bleeds and tape glitches one expects when watching an old VHS tape.

Essentially, Tommy set out to make a film that's "so bad it's good." That's not as easy as it sounds. Directors who make an intentionally bad film rarely produce a film that "so bad it's good," but more often a film that's "so bad it's unwatchable." Their films lack sincerity. We sense the cast and crew got lazy because they thought bad filmmaking didn't require effort. The results on screen are more often slipshod than entertaining.

Cold Blooded is not true Trash Horror, but a painstaking parody of Trash Horror. Which, ironically, because of its sincere effort at parody, succeeds as both parody and as Trash Horror. It's actually Trash Horror, once removed. (Are you still with me?)

Kidd Tommy does an excellent job capturing the look, the sound, the vibes of the 1980s. Plus, she successfully depicts it through the direct-to-video prism of that era. Finally, she tells an entertaining story with engaging characters -- despite the actors' hammy performances, we are emotionally invested in Moonie and Rick. We care what happens to them.

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For more information on defining and demarcating the subgenres of horror, see Horror Film Aesthetics: Creating the Visual Language of Fear. This blog represents a continuing discussion of my views on horror, picking up from where the book left off.

How Gary Oldman Coaxed a Realistic Performance from Winona Ryder

Some horror film directors want realistic performances from their actors.

Not every film requires realism. Children Should Play with Dead Things and Blood Feast benefit from their actors' hammy performances. (This not true even of many horror "comedies" -- many "so bad it's good" films are actually "so bad it's unwatchable".) Hal Hartley often requires deadpan performances from his actors.

But say a director wants realism. How to coax a realistic performance from an actor?

Jonathan Emrys, an extra on Bram Stoker's Dracula, relates how director Francis Ford Coppola sought a realistic reaction from Winona Ryder (a look of stunned shock), and how Gary Oldman figured out a way to coax this reaction from Ryder.

(I think Bram Stoker's Dracula's overall acting style is a bit more theatrical and styled than the more mundane realism of many films. But nevertheless, Emrys offers an instructive account of how Oldman drew a realistic reaction from Ryder.)

As Emrys's relates it:

[W]e all were set up on the streets again, and Mina (Winona Ryder) was supposed to walk down the street to the Apothecary shop and look across the street to see Dracula (Gary Oldman) staring back at her.

Directly behind the camera was Coppola, and the ever professional Gary took his place beside the camera, in the mud, to give Winona a point to look at.
Winona repeatedly walked down the street, stopped, stared, then continued into the shop. However, she apparently was not giving the shocked or startled look Coppola was looking for, so he kept sending her back up the street to start again, over and over.

During one of the longer spaces between takes, Gary starts looking around and spies a vegetable cart beside me. He asks a P.A. "Are those real vegetables?"
The P.A. replied that they were and Gary asked "Are those real zucchinis over there?"

The P.A. nodded and Gary asked "Can I have one? Could you get me a zucchini?"

The P.A. was confused by the question, he didn't know if he should, so he asked an A.D. who, I think asked another A.D., and finally was given the reply "Yeah, sure."

They grabbed one of the zucchinis and gave it to Gary who immediately took his place again beside the camera.

I'm standing directly behind Gary, so all I can see is him facing the street with the zucchini held firmly behind his back. Winona finally comes into view and waits at the top of the street, and Coppola yells "Action!" and Winona starts down the street.

As she approaches her mark, Gary shifts the zucchini to his front, at about groin level.

Winona reaches her mark, stops and turns to Dracula and has an utterly surprised, shocked and startled look on her face. She kept it professional and continued into the Apothecary's Shop.

The moment Coppola yelled "Cut!", Winona stormed out of the shop and proceeded to harangue Gary, who took it in his stride, laughing. This seemed to upset her even more, so Coppola finally got out of his seat and took each of them by the arm and walked them back up the street and out of view, all the time Gary was laughing and smiling, and Winona was not.

A few moments later, they all came back into view, and Winona was still not real happy, but there was no longer any smile on Gary's face as he dragged his feet, head down, like a punished schoolboy.

Yes, that was a funny thing Gary did, and sure Winona probably didn't think so, but at least Gary helped Coppola to get that look he needed from her.

You can see the above scene here:



You can read more about Emrys's experiences as an extra on Bram Stoker's Dracula at his Blood Thirsty website.

I met Emrys on Bram Stoker's Dracula, because I too worked as an extra on that film. You can read about my experiences on the Hollywood Investigator.

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For more about acting styles in horror films, see Horror Film Aesthetics: Creating the Visual Language of Fear. This blog represents a continuing discussion of my views on horror, picking up from where the book left off.

“So Bad It's Good” vs. “Suspension of Disbelief”

At last weekend's World Horror Convention, I served on a panel entitled: Why Do Horror Films Suck?” I challenged the panel's premise, explaining that I can enjoy even technically inept horror films.

Another panelist, author Scott Browne, agreed, saying that some films were so bad, he found them entertaining.

Yet that's wasn't quite what I meant. I gave it some thought after the panel, and had an epiphany.

I enjoy “bad” horror films, but not because they're “so bad they're good.” I enjoy them for the same reason that I enjoy “good” horror films -- because my “suspension of disbelief” filters out elements that hinder my enjoyment.

Film theorists have long said that, to enjoy a film, the viewer must “suspend disbelief.” We know those are actors on the screen, not real people, but we shove that thought from our minds. We know horses can't talk, Superman can't fly, and ghosts don't exist, but we shove that thought from our minds.

It's the same with technically inept films. Watching a technically great ghost film like The Haunting requires a certain suspension of disbelief. Watching an inept ghost film -- with wooden acting, cheap sets, poor atmosphere, and a microphone that occasionally drops into the screen -- also requires suspension of disbelief, but more of it.

I tell myself: “Okay, I'll ignore that ghosts don't exist -- and I'll pretend those are real people on screen despite their bad acting, and I'll pretend I didn't see that boom mic's shadow against the wall.”

To suspend disbelief over a film's ineptitude yields a different quality of pleasure than enjoying a film because “It's so bad it's good.” In the former case, the viewer may yet enjoy some fear or suspense, because one still believes the story on screen. In the latter case, the viewer has given up all attempts at believing in the story (suspension of disbelief is broken), and just laughs at the bad actors stumbling about the cheap sets.

I have a high tolerance for inept horror films. I can suspend my disbelief even for films like Blood Feast and Horror of Party Beach, and enjoy their stories. (Although, I've seen so many horror films, it's hard for me to feel fear from any of them, however hard I try to suspend disbelief.) Other people have a lower tolerance, and can only enjoy these films on a “so bad it's good” level.

There is also a gradation. One may suspend disbelief to a certain (greater or lesser) degree for some films, while enjoying part of these films for being “so bad it's good.” (I can enjoy The Great Alligator on both levels.) Naturally, the more inept the film is, the more this ineptitude wears away at viewers' suspension of disbelief.

I've long held that a film should be judged both Objectively and Subjectively.

Some horror films are Objectively and Subjectively great. They meet the high standards of defensible, objective criteria -- and I greatly enjoy them. For example, The Haunting and Lost Souls.

Other films are only Subjectively great. I greatly enjoy them, yet I see their technical faults. For example, Stage Fright or Crucible of Terror.

Even so, despite technical shortcomings, such films can still have some Objective merit due to their admirable use of pragmatic aesthetics (i.e., using those technical shortcomings in ways that support the characters, story, or themes).

In summary, by suspending disbelief, one can enjoy a technically inept horror film despite its ineptitude, rather than because of it.

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For more about interpreting horror films, and the nature of the pleasures that come from viewing horror, see Horror Film Aesthetics: Creating the Visual Language of Fear. This blog represents a continuing discussion of my views on horror, picking up from where the book left off.