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At the beginning of the COVID-19 pandemic, I flipped on the Gwenyth Paltrow-led Contagion. I had seen the film before, way back when it first came out, but, like so many, I felt the need to revisit. The 2011 movie spotlights a virus that knocks out a great majority of the population, and when you get the disease, dying from it doesn’t become an if, it becomes a when. It’s a great calamity, one that causes intense social disarray and an almost extinction level threat. To put it simply, the virus in the film was more aggressive than COVID-19, with even more dramatic worldwide consequences. At the time, diving into a situation more grave than our own was calming.
During the pandemic, according to a 2021 study, horror fans had a greater resilience to the psychological effects of the pandemic. When watching a scary movie, we learn how to build coping strategies for traumatic real world events. With the market share of horror films increasing, there are more choices for a dose of daily fright. We are in a horrific kind of boom. Socially relevant scary movies are prevalent, and real world situations are examined and dissected. Longlegs star Maika Monroe, in a recent interview, stated, “Some of the most interesting roles with the most depth, the most versatility, are in this genre. Directors and actors are really able to shine through this space.”
I’ve found this to be personally true, as in college, when I was at the lowest point of my life, horror helped me overcome my own demons.
Early on during my time at Northwestern University, my wagon became hitched to a bunch of scream queens. My friend group would often gravitate towards horror films, whether I liked it or not, for our movie nights. We’d pop open some Lime-A-Ritas (this was college, remember), grab some Veggies Straws (because, health), and dive into a Friday night haunt. At the beginning, I protested, however I always found myself often outnumbered. My Letterboxd “watched” list became spookier and spookier as we screened Hereditary, Us, Get Out, Suspiria, and more. The more we watched, the more obsessed I became.
Ari Aster’s Hereditary helped me confront my family issues.
During my senior year, I signed up for a horror films class. I had just come off of the most traumatic summer of my life. I had fallen out with multiple friends and was filled with so much social anxiety that I contemplated not returning for my senior year. What was supposed to be a bright summer at home became plagued with darkness. I came back because I was so close to the finish line. I only needed a few more classes, so I was sure to sprinkle in some personal interest. Little did I know, that class would make my Northwestern life so much better.
As we made our way through the roster, I found myself loving the genre more and more. While I was a typical senior and did blow off some films early in the class, my list grew to include Halloween, Psycho, and Alien just to name a few. I soon realized the genre was saving my life. Midsommar helped me realize my summer wasn’t nearly as bad as Florence Pugh’s, allowing me to gain confidence in advocating for myself. Night of the Living Dead showed me that while people may not like me at times, at least they’re not zombies. Scream encouraged me to continue to fight, even when a situation may seem hopeless. The genre teaches exaggerated lessons that we can drag into our real lives. When I realized this, so much clicked. That fall, when I faced a former friend or someone I had sparred with in the spring, they became easier to face with positivity and respect.
Us confronts political issues through a horror lens.
This seems to be the case for other viewers, too, especially this year. The Substance has been one of the buzziest films of the fall. It turns our anxieties about aging, botox, and the rise of Ozempic, into campy body horror and asks, if you were given a miracle drug that made you look and feel younger, would you take it? What long term effects would you be willing to bear? Longlegs examines the effects of generational trauma and carried grief, MaXXXine spotlights the dangers of cults and seeking fame, and Blink Twice starts a conversation around the power of money, sexual assault, and control.
There’s plenty of science backing up the idea that horror movies can help us process our real-life problems. It’s thought that having a morbid curiosity is evolutionary. Animals investigate and examine a predator, breeding preparedness when they attack. Exposing ourselves to frightening situations can only help us stay ready for a villain. Haunted houses and scary stories can help, too.
This year, as I’ve made my way through the horror heavy hitters, I’ve realized that this genre is my relief. Sometimes there’s nowhere else I can go to experience an escape or immediate calm besides Ma’s basement. When I’ve relayed this to coworkers, some have been aghast. What kind of person could find horror movies relaxing? But a surprising number of people have related. Horror can help us confront the realities of our world, and I know many of us scream queens will continue to shriek until we can’t anymore.
Samuel is the Associate Editor at ELLE Magazine. Prior to this role, he was the Assistant to ELLE’s Editor-in-Chief, Nina Garcia. At ELLE, Samuel writes about music, fashion, arts, and culture, interviewing Normani, Lola Tung, Sara Bareilles, Kelli O’Hara, Nicholas Galitzine, Tate McRae, and more. Raised in Des Moines, Iowa, Samuel attended Northwestern University and currently resides in New York City.