Curiosity Killed the Human: The Fascination With Things May Kill You

A classic horror film, Poltergeist (1982) characterizes the supernatural, home-based horror genre that has become so popular today through films like Paranormal Activity. A genre-defining film in nearly every way, the movie hits on a huge variety of horror-film staples ranging from children in contact with spirits to telekinesis to ectoplasm. The movie’s storyline follows that of a young family and their daughter’s connection to a supernatural entity that resides in their house. In traditional horror-story form, the demon-being, or in this case, the poltergeist, begins its contact in a fairly benign fashion that consists merely of playful telekinesis and seemingly harmless interactions with the family. The encounters with the poltergeist quickly turn sour, however, and ultimately result in attempts on the lives of the entire family and the destruction of their house. Of course, such events occurring to anyone would be likely emotionally scarring and at the very least ruin their evening, so naturally the question arises – why do people like horror movies so much?

Noel Carroll, with her work “The Paradox of Horror”, claims to have the answer. Not merely a result of just extreme repulsion or of some metaphorical relationship with real life, Carroll claims that humanity’s fascination with horror has a deeper, more complex root.

According to Carroll, one of the main reasons that horror is so appealing stems from its usual narrative style, not solely its connection with the disturbing. Much like any other story told in a narrative style, the audience is interested in how the characters and the setting interact with each other as a whole, not necessarily the characters themselves. While the monster in Poltergeist is both frightening and fascinating, the plotline itself is equally intriguing.

Also of huge interest to the audience is the way in which details of the antagonist are revealed. The process of discovery, according to Carroll, is both thrilling and satisfying as viewers piece together information regarding a movie’s monster much as they would in real life. In Poltergeist, for instance, the viewer is fascinated not by the poltergeist itself, but by the mystery surrounding the being. At first only knowable through its effects on the physical objects in the house, the poltergeist exists merely as an unknown energy source. Its sentience is only realized through its initial playfulness and eventual malevolent behavior. The viewer is continually drawn into the story as more details about the poltergeist and its purpose are uncovered.

That said, a deeper, more instinctual “magnetism” towards the ideas of horrible things does exist, a pull that still is present even after removing the storyline that goes along with every horror story. The poltergeist and supernatural occurrences, for instance, would still be incredibly fascinating even if they were presented without the detailed storyline that the movie presents. Carroll pegs this phenomenon as a result of humanity’s innate connection with the “anomalous.” Ideas of things that are counter-culture and abnormal fascinate us, and while much of our own culture is focused around conforming ourselves to a pre-existing status quo, we often find ourselves desiring a something that can’t be seen in everyday life.

Just as we enjoy an action movie for its ability to give us a glimpse into a seldom-seen life of fast-paced shootouts and life-or-death situations, we enjoy horror films for their similar ability to provide us with a twist on what would otherwise be a normal life. The “normal life” idea is key here, and in fact finds its way into every successful movie. By incorporating aspects of living that most humans are already familiar with, a movie is able to bridge the gap between the viewer’s experiences and the fictional or fantastical experiences in the movie. Of course, horror films are usually a twisted perversion of “normal life”, but they begin with a normal life all the same.

However, one can draw an interesting distinction between horror films and films of other genres. While the viewer may wish that they were the action hero on the screen, few people would wish themselves to be in the shoes of Diane as she struggles to escape the dead bodies come to life in the pit of her swimming pool. Why, then, do people submit themselves to viewing such traumatizing scenes? Perhaps the answer can be found in the degrees of separation that a movie provides for the viewer. While movies can certainly seem frighteningly realistic, the constant knowledge that the movie is merely a story that has been written, filmed, and presented on your TV screen merely for your entertainment can act as a buffer of sorts that protects the viewer from overstimulation. Of course, for some viewers (like myself), forgetting that the movie has little connection to reality is easily done once the film is rolling and that buffer quickly becomes frighteningly ineffective.

A word of advice: Never just move the headstones.