Freeland's discussion of Cronenburg was definitely interesting and it got me perplexed about one issue in particular that she discusses. Throughout her analysis of his work, she eschews one of the main themes of his films as theatricality - the theatricalization of the horror image. She contends that this contrasts horror with the elements of the everyday that are presented, first by noting how Cronenburg's work is set in familiar, "normal" places and how horror disrupts the flow of the "everyday."
"His characters are usually middle-class professionals. All of his horrific characters, men and women alike, work at jobs in realistic urban settings that often require the performance of identity in ritualized situations that do, after all, compose our normal everyday working life" (p.90).
"The contrast between the often extreme bodily transformations in Cronenburg's film plots and the cool realism of his style is what I call his theatricalization of horror - his treatment of horror as a form of shocking and yet pleasurable cinematic spectacle" (pp.90-91).
She goes on to discuss how Cronenburg sets this theatricality along the backdrop of processes which call attention to the medium of film itself and the idea of watching the horror. "His movies highlight the very nature of witnessing horror as a spectacular theatrical event, and often, as in Scanners, they include scenes of audiences watching a demonstration or film that somehow goes wrong or is dusturbing" (p. 99).
Note how close Freeland is to Carroll in some of her interpretations. She mentions how Cronenburg's work is a variation of the classic Frankenstein myth and the mad scientist (his films are overreachers). Her analysis of The Fly as a meditation on embodiment and the elements of classic tragedy is very relevant to Carroll's Aristotelian-inspired investigation, for it seems that horror and tragedy focus on similar elements and devices.
Now, Carroll believed that the price of horror was what we had to get past in order to enjoy the disclosure of the narrative. It seems to me that Freeland is drawing a closer distinction to that price specifically, focusing on Cronenburg and his theatricality. Her idea of horror in his films as being shown watched is perhaps the most exciting claim in this chapter because it naturally raises further questions. I've found myself asking why, if this is the case, does Cronenburg do this? What's so special about the theatricality of his images of horror and the fact that people in his films witness horror either through their own eyes or through mediated devices such as cameras and televisions?
I think she provides a partial answer to this: "Horror filmmaking requires a delicate balance between the presentation of beauty and an utter disruption of the serenity of the image. In movies like Cronenburg's, this can contribute to the exquisite enjoyment of extremely painful and disturbing material" (p. 120). So, in contrast to Carroll, I think she's at least drawing more towards spectator involvement with a specific film. Rather than just focusing on narrative, she she's the contrast and the flow between the familiar and the horrific as part of the enjoyment of it. This I can partially agree with, but I'm still not satisfied with it. I'm still curious of what to make of people who go for the price of horror itself - for them, the rest of the "beauty" is probably going to be filler until the next horrific image is displayed.
This theatricality of horror is very perplexing. On the one hand, it can tie into Freeland's distinction of the "artist" in horror skillfully rendering objects of disgust and dread in enjoyable ways. But there must be more to it. I do agree with her that Cronenburg's films (and many others I think) pose a serious interplay between the reality of normal, familiar life and the emergence of horror. I think her distinction of the horror shown as being watched by others is perhaps the key here, and maybe so for some of Carroll's developments. My theory is this: if we as an audience see other people watching something horrific, that adds both to our empathy with and fear of whatever is being portrayed. It's one thing to depict a monster on the screen; that might be scary, but if you take characters and contextualize their reactions and involvement with the horror, it becomes twice as potent both in a sense of fear and empathy for the characters (provided it's done in an appropriate tone). This would lend some weight to Carroll's idea that the characters in a horror film perform a normative function of showing the audience an appropriate reaction. If the people in Scanners are horrified, we might just as likely be. And naturally, setting horror amidst realistic settings allows us to feel like it could happen right here.
Of course, Freeland is drawing more distinctions toward horror as being watched through an apparatus in many of Cronenburg's films. I'm more willing to generalize and say that the very act of watching and witnessing itself, as undertaken by the characters, helps to make a deeper connection to the audience.
Deeper down though, I think the nature of horror as a simple spectacle is possibly the ultimate attraction to it. Horror escapes any type of normalcy; in fact, horror is perhaps the one genre that emphasizes how easy the narrative norm can be broken. No matter what view of it you take (it's gross, disgusting, repulsive, reprehensible, awesome, whatever), it's inherently interesting because it represents some type of attack on normalcy. You might say the same for action, suspense and other tropes in film.
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