And the first chest buster in Alien, while its not as shocking now, was a real “holy shit” moment for me back in 1979.

1. Poltergeist (1982)
1a) That Fucking Clown
1b) That Oddly Alluring Spider Skeleton Ghost

That. Fucking. Clown. Amirite? You know, I won’t even say any more about that other than that I, as an eleven-year-old watching this in a movie theater, actually pivoted toward my then-friend’s ear to begin to say “Whew, I totally thought the clown was going to be under the bed,” thereby priming my vocal cords and breath for an unfortunately perfectly-timed shriek right into his eardrum. Well played, Mr. Director, sir. But this:

http://youtu.be/h4Ey7_R3DvA

What really resonated with me, and I couldn’t put a description to this sensation at the time, is how [i]Elegant[/i] the Spider Skeleton Ghost that guarded the door to the children’s room was. The ethereal translucency, the emaciated proportions, its haunting lowing; it all had the hallmarks of a devotional pietà that I knew others would consider obscene had I voiced it as such. I would thereafter surreptitiously scour special effects books at the bookstore and monster magazines on the shelf to catch another glimpse of this creature, and, in doing so, I realized I was more amenable to finding allure in the repulsive. Stolen peeks at gory heavy metal album covers, protoGoth imagery and underground comix would soon usher me in to the tastes of my teenage years, tastes that are fondly remembered as when I first could selectively develop my inclinations on my own accord.

I also credit “Poltergeist” as the first film in which the sterile artificial suburban landscape of which I was so familiar actually seemed as if it had the potential for magic. Up to then, the haunted house archetype to me was the stuff of purple-hued Victorian mansions depicted in children’s books and, ultimately, the property of Elsewhere. After June 1982, the prospect of corpses boiling beneath the foundation of the tract home in which I lived seemed plausible.

2. Ghosts That Still Walk (1977) — Supernatural Rolling Boulders

I give tribute to the Kindertauma website for helping me track down what this movie was that left such an indelible mark on my young psyche, specifically, this one scene that I could recall generations later even after the rest of the details of this movie that had prepubescent me scampering from the TV had faded:

http://youtu.be/h13es3Q_9oA?t=28m20s

Is it a good, scary movie? Oh Gott in Himmel, No no no no no, but despite its plodding pace and muddled narrative, this one scene is an inspired setpiece in which an elderly couple on vacation in the desert are attacked by large boulders rolling across the flat desert landscape. The genuinely terrifying part for me, both as a child and now in my adult years, was that the husband first was trying to find out what these heat-blurred dots on the horizon were by repeatedly walking further and further away from the safety of the camper to get a closer look with his binoculars. I think even back then, I suspected the massive boulders were “fakey,” but that was just inconsequential to the terror I felt at knowing something is completely and hostilely amiss and yet still being compelled to find out what it is at the expense of your protection. The fact that the distance between the man and his means of escape in their presumably safe RV was shown in a long shot just psychologically added to the danger.

3. A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984) — Freddy Longtorso

Remember what the Writer said in the movie “Stand By Me” (as well as in its source of adaptation, Stephen King’s story “The Body”): “I never had any friends later on like the ones I had when I was twelve. Jesus, does anyone?” Can’t we say the same thing about our horror movies? The sheer novel potency of the horror movie could rule the imagination of our younger minds just by the simplest suggestion alone. I recall even just reading the taglines for the 1981 movie “Scanners” in the newspaper as a child (“10 Seconds: The Pain Begins. 15 Seconds: You can’t Breathe. 20 Seconds: You Explode.”) had me writhing in an anxietyball at the prospect of a world in which I now know that not only do Scannerpeople possibly exist, but that their attacks happen so often that some writer can clinically document with a practiced detachment the chronological escalation of the effects upon you, as the potential victim. Only fourteen words, that took. Count ‘em. Only fourteen words, and suddenly my worldview changed, ready to follow anyone who could tell me how to prevent an attack by Scannerpeople. Suck it, florid manifestos!

The point is, perhaps there is a sweet spot in our development that makes us particularly receptive to the impact of horror imagery, one that we try, hopefully not in vain, to restimulate with the same intensity that we once felt. If so, there would be credence to the theory of a Rolling Golden Age, one in which The Best Movies Ever of a favorite genre happened exactly when one was at that adolescent stage in which discovery started giving way to personal control.

In my case, this was the era of the late 70′s to the mid-80′s. Slasher heyday. Can I say that this was the definitive apogee of the genre? No, but I can say it was the fond time in which imagery had a particularly rousing effect on me. Even the trailers for horror movies alone could startle me into a frenzied lather. This, then, is the roundabout segue to introduce that scene in “A Nightmare on Elm Street” where Freddy stands with his arms spanning the distance of the alley:

http://youtu.be/Adgp0v_mfTk?t=10s

Just that one single image in a commercial showing Freddy Krueger with the elongated arms had me leaping up to the television to turn the dial (this was before the proliferation of remotes, whippersnappers). That is potency, in which A New Wrongness is introduced so casually in a single wordless scene. Freddy isn’t running at you, he just wants to let you know what the situation is simply by standing there: Killer with long arms. Wants to touch you with his claws. Running won’t help much. That’s a beautiful haiku of horror right there. (No, really! It’s a haiku! Check it and see!)

———

I could ramble on more than I have, but I think I’ll press the pause button on this for now. I could go on all day about just the advertisements for horror movies that had as much of an impact on me as the actual horror movies themselves, but that might be another topic entirely. Thanks again for hosting the blog, Bryan!