This past weekend I snuck off to Los Angeles to hang with a friend, and as part of our activities we attended the Academy Museum of Motion Picture’s The Horror Show, an exhibit that traces the history of horror from the silent era to the present. It is a dazzling achievement, using props, wardrobe pieces and other artifacts to deliver a memorable experience to the entire spectrum of horror fandom, from the die-hards to the casuals.
But something was missing.
That’s no knock on the exhibit. It truly is comprehensive, spanning a century of horror: an original one-sheet from 1922’s Nosferatu sits around the corner from Bela Lugosi’s Dracula cape (which is opposite a pompadour’d bat from the 1931 classic); Gary Oldman’s blood-red armor from Bram Stoker’s Dracula stands proudly next to Wesley Snipes’ leather Blade fit. A mummified Catherine Deneuve (above) from The Hunger lies in state at the center of the room.
And that’s just one room. The exhibit is smartly divided into separate rooms, each one featuring a subgenre of horror – Religion, Science, Ghosts, Slashers, etc. (The Slasher room was the most crowded, packed to the gills with fans eager to see iconic masks and weapons.) And the breadth of the exhibit goes from the silent era to Aunt Gladys; I daresay one visit to The Horror Show isn’t enough.
As I said, though, something was missing. For me, anyway, and it’s not anything the exhibit could have remedied. See, I think a huge part of a horror fan’s journey is the discovery, the fateful, sometimes illicit ways we found our way to this genre. It’s more than nostalgia; those moments we first saw things that scared and compelled us… those moments had real magic in them. The fever dream state I was in on my grandma’s couch when I saw The Last Man on Earth; staying up past my bedtime to watch Night of the Living Dead with my older brother; the windshield haze through which I saw The Exorcist at the drive-in. Each horror fan has a museum in their mind, and it’s an exhibit that will only ever admit one.
Of course, that’s not something an institution like the Academy can replicate in an old Gen X horror fan, and so The Horror Show felt like nothing so much as reconnecting with things I loved, a reunion with the stuff that formed who I am today. It felt like a full circle moment, the way going to the Texas Chain Saw and Michael Myers houses did, or visiting the Exorcist steps. I did walk out itching to rewatch the movies represented in the exhibit – a wonderful feeling, one for which I’m grateful.
But it was just plain odd to see the things we once had to work to seek out — and do the explaining of WHY we loved it to our friends and family — given such a thoughtful and reverent curation for the mainstream public. It’s hard to explain to anyone who didn’t grow up when I did just how surreal it is to see horror become so damn respectable. And no, I’m not playing Old Man Gatekeeper and saying this kind of presentation is bad for horror. It’s just got me thinking how differently new fans will come to the genre. Everyone from my generation either was or knows someone who was admonished (or worse) for their nascent love of blood & guts; cut to parents taking their wide-eyed children to see the crimson-stained, patina’d murder weapons from their favorite slasher franchises behind glass like the important historical artifacts they are.
It was a real “things are different now” moment for me, and it made me curious to see beyond my remaining years to witness how the horror fans of tomorrow will find their way to this genre. Certainly there are a lot more pathways, and there’s a lot more acceptance. Those can only be good things. But I also hope the kids of today and tomorrow find something to replace the harmless act of rebellion that horror was for so many of us. It was a rite of passage, an important element of our fandom, and I can’t help but wonder if it’s a big part of what made it all profoundly stick with us.
