Anna: Why don't you just kill us?
Peter: [smiling] You shouldn't forget the importance of entertainment.
Funny Games (2008)
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The setting was Shriver Hall, Halloween 2009. I sat back in my seat as a member of The Johns Hopkins Film Society, after weeks of promoting a spooky holiday double-feature, and prepared for what was to be my least favorite screening of my undergraduate career. Though I've loved decorating my new post-grad apartment with glossy skulls and pumpkins, Halloween is not my holiday. I don't like being voluntarily frightened. I don't enjoy feeling nervous. I don't like things taking me by surprise. And, though I appreciate some Diane Arbus-style forms of the grotesque, scary things freak me out. The way I appreciate a film is inseparable from my experience with the clothes in it. So the paralyzing fear I felt during our first screening of the night - Funny Games, the 2008 English-language remake of the 1997 Austrian psychological thriller by the same name - began first and foremost with the choice of costumes. The clean white golf polos on our villainous duo immediately brought to mind Malcolm McDowell & co. in A Clockwork Orange, sans bowler hats but with an equal amount of premeditated evilness. Paul and Peter's achingly friendly attitudes at the start reminded me of Alex's cordial, composed, practically relaxed forms of violence. (Plus, anyone catch the biblical reference in their names? Creepy.) Their highly stylized characters from the start struck me and sickened me before I even knew what was to come.
And after sitting and squirming through the entire thing, I decided that what it all boils down to is this - the thing that makes Funny Games so terrifying (and, admittedly, so successful) is just the opposite of theatrical: it's the fact that it could happen.
Think about it compared to our other beloved scary movies. Scream is so foolish, if only for the Ghostfaced Killer mask alone. How can you take something like that seriously? If it had a knife, maybe. But the movie is practically a spoof of a horror film in itself...and the mental image of Drew Barrymore screaming and crying on the phone in her little bob hairdo makes me laugh just thinking about it.
Halloween could happen, I suppose. But what are the chances that everyone in your town will just happen to be out that night, leaving no one to answer their doors and lend you some help? Oh and also, what about your cell phone? Get your iPhone out and call 911, problem solved. (Although the isolation of being in 1978 without a cell phone is frightening on its own for some people, I'd imagine.)
Nightmare on Elm Street, The Exorcist, Poltergeist, The Ring, Zombieland, and most other thrillers require some sort of belief in the magical or paranormal. Something alternate that isn't quite real or logical is causing trouble, mixing up the "usual" we've come to know and expect. Some elements of the story may be possible, but as a whole these films are simply so much less believable because they constantly remind you, in some way, that they can only exist in an alternate reality - the movie theater.
I recently thought of Funny Games again when I went to the theater to see Martha Marcy May Marlene. There on the screen is the same luxurious isolation, the same dread of something/someone being after you, the same fear of evil invading your comfortable home and trapping you there in a sort of hell - with the complex addition of pondering whether your hell and your home are one in the same. (Or if any of it happened at all - but that's a discussion for another day.) But more strikingly, I thought of the film again after following the trial of a New England pair who stalked a family of four, invaded their home, and ended up torching the place with a mother and two daughters inside. The courts have just convicted the second man of committing the crime (they've got him on 17 counts, including six capital felonies), but they're waiting to sentence him. So the "story" of Funny Games can happen and, recently, has happened. It's existing horror. And what defense do we have against it?
But really, a movie that thrills you, makes your heart pound and your palms sweat, runs through your head long after it's over, haunts you in the safest of places...isn't that the best scary movie of all? Because I saw this film ONCE two years ago and I still wake up at 3am sometimes thinking about it, I figure it's definitely one worth talking about.
Happy Halloween.