It goes without saying that mothers bear the brunt of blame in horror films. Most often it’s monstrous mothers to blame for allowing evil into the sacred temple of the family home. Sinister is one of the few films centered on the ineffective father. More importantly, it is part of a smaller subsect of horror films that critiques the biological father rather than the interloping step-father. Scholars such as Vivian Sobchack and Tony Williams suggest that the horrific father is often indicative of challenged patriarchal power. If indeed this is correct, then who is challenging the power and why?
In the late 1970s, Robin Wood offered his famous argument that the “true subject of the horror genre is the struggle for recognition of all that our civilization represses or oppresses,” and for Wood that was primarily sexuality (notably bisexuality and female sexuality) as well as women, the proletariat, and racial and ethnic groups.[i] Thinking about two of the most interesting TV series of the summer—Channel 4/AMC’s Humans and CBS’s Zoo—it occurred to me that horror may be much less driven by gender, race, sex, and class in 2015 than it was in 1978.
Treehouse (2014) provides us with an underlying religious message about how living a righteous life brings about strength and salvation. I am not here to suggest anything about the writer or director’s affiliation, only to pull forth a narrative that seems too obvious to ignore. Throughout the 98 minute film, there are frequent references to Biblical passage woven in with similar, more subtle language and situations.
The film uses themes of brotherly love and an omnipotent father to elicit the evolution from boy to manhood. One is able to jump to this less obvious conclusion by following the overt signs…literally.
The spectre of menstruation in horror films has long been problematic. From the shameful and mocked first period of the titular character in Carrie (1976) to its role as the trigger that leads Ginger to sexually assault a boy in Ginger Snaps (2000), menstruation in horror is often used as a visual identifier of the threat women and their sexuality pose to society. With that in mind, I have been interested in looking at how this threat plays out on television and whether the perceived horror is any different from that found within horror films.
Based on James Patterson and Michael Ledwidge’s novel of the same name, CBS’s Zoo is my guilty pleasure of the summer. It’s a TV series firmly in the eco-horror / revenge of nature sub-genre, and its many flaws haven’t yet dispelled its power. Zoo has many of the flaws of network TV shows—some badly-written dialogue, an overly melodramatic plot, too frenetic a pace—but it’s really quite engaging, more so than other series I began hopefully after reading the novel (i.e., Under the Dome, The Strain, The Last Ship), only to abandon them after a few painful episodes.
Zoo tells the story of animals—lions in Botswana and LA, wolves in Mississippi, dogs in Slovenia, bats in Rio de Janeiro—who inexplicably abandon their habitual behavior and band together to attack the heretofore dominant species. And they aren’t killing for food or to protect themselves. Groups of animals across the globe engage in what can only be called premeditated and purposeful acts of murder. An eclectic group of “experts” is drawn together to figure out what’s happening—and why. The five main characters are likeable and the actors do a surprisingly good job given the sometimes cringe-worthy places the plot takes them.











