Traditionally, horror TV has been read as lesser to film aesthetically (King 1981:253, Magistrale 2003:182-3, King 2005a:111), as incompatible with discourses surrounding the home (Branston and Stafford 2003:87, Gunter et al 2003:1-2, Wheatley 2006:14), and/or as causing anxiety towards technology in the domicile (Sconce 2000:2, Newman and Levine 2012:17). This has shaped televisual horror into something quite distinct (Hills and Williams 2005, Johnson 2005:104, Wheatley 2006:55), revealing a cultural economy around the genre (Ellis 2002:103), and resonating with wider television/cinema binaries of quality21. However, there has been a marked shift in aesthetics and style of televisual horror from restraint and suggestion (Wheatley 2006:36) to graphic visuality, linked to wider discourses of quality TV22 (Abbott 2012:29, Jowett and Abbott 2013:10-3). TV aesthetics, while not a genre in their own right23 (Hills 2005b:190, Bianculli 2007:35-37, Cardwell 2007:32), are used as a schema by both industry and audiences when distinguishing texts24 that are often juxtaposed to ordinary television (Cardwell 2007:26, Pearson 2009a:1, Scolari 2009:598).
As noted, Mittell argues that ‘[g]enres emerge from intertextual relations between multiple texts’ (2004:8). Taking a bottom-up perspective, Mittell evidences ‘how genres actually form and change over time – out of specific cultural practices of industries and audiences, not out of macro-structures’ (ibid:14, see also Hills 2005a:112,114, Altman 1999:19-20, 2003:29).
21 Traditionally, television/televisual technology has often been read polemically in relation to the aesthetics, technology, and consumption of cinema (Seiter 1999:1, Barker et al 2001:178, Nelson 2001:8, Pearson and Messenger-Davies 2003:107, Caldwell 2005:93-4), a devalued medium because of its places within the semiotics of ‘the home’, the material it disseminates (Ellison 1978, Giles and Jackson-Beck 1985:191), and being low in cultural capital (Sconce 2004:93, Ross 2008:53).
22Reflective of wider culture (Thompson 1992:230, Jameson 1991:2, 64), discourses of highbrow qualities have been conflated with the mass consumer culture, opening up/re-evaluating texts at both production and reception level.
23 Despite others claiming it is so (e.g., Thompson. 1997:16, 2007:xvii).
24 Markers included: high production values akin to cinema (McMurria 2003:83, Abbott 2009:14), visual style (Feuer 1984b:32-3), acting/cast quality (Feuer 2007:150, Hand 2010:40, Hunt 2003b:21), narrative content/complexity (Shimpach 2010:36), character development (Feuer 1984b:36-7, Nelson 1997:31), verisimilitude/counter-verisimilitude (Neale 1983 36-40, Feuer 1984b:36, Hunt 2005:3, Johnson 2005:38, Ellis 2002:13), reinforced brand value (Feuer 2007:148, Gillan 2011:21, Brundson 1997:112-13, McMurria 2003:71) and transmedia potential,
Mittell argues that genre circulates as cultural practices via ‘definition, interpretation, and evaluation’ through the formation of ‘discursive clusters’ that, whilst coherent, transmute and shift (along with their ‘meaning and value’) across spatio-temporal contexts (2004:16-17, and see Todorov 1975:6-7, Neale 1980:19, Altman 2003:34). By using discursive clusters25 as textual strategies, not only can I analyse genre more holistically, addressing construction, value, use, and ideology embedded within wider culture(s), I can also trace genealogical
‘generic dominance’, recognising ‘previous incarnations’ (Mittell 2004:36). This highlights how genre texts can be reframed from low cultural status to greater prestige (or vice versa) over time and space (Nelson 1997:68, e.g. Chris 2007:137, Masters 2012, Newman and Levine 2012:59), allowing us to explore twenty-first century TV horror in relation to previous (and residual) incarnations of TV horror and against other horror media. Moreover, whilst highlighting the generic nature of television (Fiske 1987:109), this also indicates televisual hybridity (Feuer 1992:158, Spigel 2004:4, Ellis 2002:102 Turner 2001:6, Collins 1992:331).
Hybridising genres actually reinforces their respective attributes due to foreknowledge of these genres (Tudor 2003:8, Buscombe 2003:24). Thus, Mittell’s discursive clusters can be used to analyse texts that hybridise horror with other genres (see Chapters 1 and 3).
Part of examining differences in TV horror involves exploring what catalysts have provided opportunities for experimentation/departures, consequently buttressing further changes (e.g., Graves 2010:38-9). Firstly, certain cultural periods allow for opportunistic dissemination of genre texts. Mittell notes that genre, as cultural practices, extends beyond the experience of textual-receptive contact (2004:99-100). With horror, Halloween and Christmas are periods where the genre holds wider prominence in the media (Mathijs 2009, 2010, Ellis 2002:44, Gillespie 1995:20-1, Cooke 2015:136, Johnston 2015:149). Producers may be more likely to broadcast horror texts during this period to gain higher ratings26. This is a time for Halloween/Christmas ‘specials’ when audiences may be more inclined to watch horror.
Likewise, these periods provide instances of event TV whereby particular texts take on heightened significance (Evans 2011:163), elevating them above the flow of television. For instance, season one of The Walking Dead (TWD) premiered over the Halloween period in 2010 in the US and UK (Surette 2010, O’Brien 2010:4727, Gray 2010:12). Similarly, Dead Set aired
25 Which Mittell compares to genre cycles.
26 These spikes which, while not a new trend (e.g., BFI 2012), echo North American TV practices such as the sweeps (see Caldwell 2004:60).
27 O’Brien reports that ‘[w]hen the pilot was shown on American cable channel AMC, it received 5.2 million viewers, a record for the channel, with the finale clocking up 6 million’ (2010:47).
in the UK beginning on the 27th of October 2008 over a five-night period on E428, subsequently being shown in its entirety on the 31st of October 2009, again on E429.
Furthermore, twenty-first century television is often constructed through seriality rather than closed episodes (Dawson 2011:43). The growing success of overarching serial storylines such as in The Sopranos, The O.C, 24, Desperate Housewives, and Lost, resulted in primetime schedules embracing hour-long serial dramas (ibid:44), paving the way for texts such as TWD and American Horror Story. However, previous narrative structures are not entirely supplanted, with TV horror such as Masters of Horror, Fear Itself, and Black Mirror utilising anthology structures akin to those of The Twilight Zone and Hammer House of Horror (see Newman and Levine 2012:20-1,81, Tulloch 1990:90, Creeber 2001a:9-11, Feuer 2007:146). The digitality of new media and experimentation with televisual seriality, concurrent with the prevalence of ‘the intricacy of… multithread narratives and the space of… sweeping season[s] – and… story arcs [in serial dramas]’ (Dawson 2011:38-9), has resulted in what Max Dawson terms ‘monumental serials’. Dawson explains that,
Monumental serials earned television, its storytellers, and their network and studio patrons unprecedented levels of prestige, and in some instances significant profits as well. But on account of the unconventional storytelling techniques many of them employed, these programmes also exposed various sectors within the industry to heightened economic risks. Television networks have in many instances sought to manage these risks textually, employing a variety of supplemental texts to protect their growing economic and ideological investments in monumental seriality.
(ibid:39)
This ‘monumentality’ shapes an aesthetic that revises TV horror, moving away from previous restraints to use ‘quality’ narrative structures and visceral spectacle. Seriality also resonates
28Jon Rogers writes that, the original airing of the first episode gave E4 ‘its best performance… since June 2002…
Gaining a multichannel audience of 1.4 million viewers/8.5%… [it] was the fourth most popular channel outperforming both Five and its terrestrial older sibling Channel 4’ (2008:4).That includes the ‘220,000 viewers who watched the’ program on at the later time of 11pm on E4+1 (ibid). Dead Set was also nominated for a BAFTA and sold ‘to four international territories’ (Broadcast 2009:12).
29 Interestingly, despite the praise and popularity of Dead Set in the UK, it was not officially imported (by channel IFC) into the USA, until TWD was being premiered in 2010. Again, it was shown not only during the Halloween period, but used as direct competition with its North American counterpart (Lewis 2010), indicating a twofold opportunistic dynamic.
with a ‘more respectful medium – the novel’ (ibid:44). Newman and Levine note, ‘[o]ne of the central strategies employed in discourses of legitimation is [TV being] compared with already legitimated art forms, such as literature and cinema’ (2012:4). With horror having an extensive literary and cinematic history, monumental serials provide a suitable format for twenty-first century TV horror in bids for quality status, e.g., Penny Dreadful and Sleepy Hollow. However, the ‘literary associations’ of monumental serials can also be their downfall, due to the (un)sustainability of viewing figures over time (Dawson 2011:44, Simpson 2010:12, Rundle and Simpson 2010:30-3). Spectacle is costly, and producers may be unhappy if excessive spending is combined with declining ratings: e.g., Carnivále was cancelled after two seasons (Adalian 2005). This may also account for TWD’s premiere season only being six episodes (Seidman 2010, Grant 2010:12-3), with the second season expanding to have an additional seven episodes once initial viewing figures were positive.
Quality material is often aimed at niche demographics that have sufficient economic capital, which they can subsequently turn into (sub-)cultural capital (Jancovich and Hunt 2004:27-8, Abbott 2010a:91). The perceived demographic of this quality audience is often young, male, middle-class, white and affluent (Feuer, 1984:25, 2007:147, San Martin 2003:33, Hart 2004:214, Einav 2004:221); this can be linked back to the digital divide that operates at various global/local levels and which negates certain undesirable audience demographics in opposition to this target audience (Mayo 2009:122, Seiter 1999:120-1, Kompare 2010:81, Dawson 2010:96-8, Whittle 2004:180-81).30 However, hermetic relationships between quality/cult TV and audience type are somewhat reductive (see also the Conclusion page 299). Therefore, whilst rich narratives combined with spectacle-driven imagery can encourage dedicated fan tele-participation, they also offer mainstream appeal by not alienating ‘other/normal’ viewers (Ross 2008:177, Abbott 2009:11-12, Ndalianis 2009:190).
Another way financial risk is addressed is by aiming content at pre-existing fandoms. Hills defines neo-cult television as self-conscious television attempting to ‘appeal to historical,
30 This problematises claims that new media is in some way liberating/revolutionary (See Caldwell 2005:91, Poniewozik 2006, Axelrod 2010, Epstein 2010, Lavery 2011, Creeber and Martin 2009:5, Lotz 2007a:54, Hilmes 2009:46, Waterman 2004:64), as it highlights how Bourdieuian structures of capital still operate, contra Jameson’s claim (1991:3), within this digital paradigm (2010, see Hills 2009a:116, 2009b:117-8, McPherson 2002:187, Barker 1997:9, Hilmes 2002:12, Banet-Weiser et al 2007:8, Creeber 2009:17, Doyle 2010:1). This demographic has also been linked with new media technology (Boddy 2002:247, Klinger 2006:13), cult fandom (Thornton, 1995:115, Hollows 2003:37), and horror (Clover 1992:6), despite being a somewhat outdated construction (e.g.
Cherry 1999, Abbott 2010b:1-2).
established audiences… [and] various, “mainstream” audience[s]’ (2013e:291) as it attempts to ‘produce “event” TV (i.e. “quality,” “cinematic” television)’ (ibid:297). Neo-cult TV is novel to new viewers whilst seeking to entice established fandoms (evidenced in Chapters 3, 4, and 5). This may involve utilising both cult and mainstream intertextual connections within the same text (e.g. Cherry 2012), and/or combining niche and wide-reaching marketing (e.g.
Abbott 2012:28). With horror fans, and fans more generally, not being limited to a single cultural object (Cherry 2010:71), the industry can use horror to attract vast and established market demographics (Cherry 2002:47-8, Egan 2007:107). Concurrently, neo-cult TV is emblematic of cult television’s shift into more mainstream territories (Abbott 2010b:1, Pearson 2010:9, Hills 2010a:71-2, Newman and Levine 2012:29). Some texts see canonical horror film directors move to the small screen such as Masters of Horror, Fear Itself, and South of Hell, offering legitimacy through their cinematic legacy. Some remediate popular horror cinema such as Bates Motel, Sleepy Hollow, Ash vs. Evil Dead, From Dusk til Dawn, and Scream.
Others remediate horror from different platforms such as comics (TWD), and literature (Dracula and Hannibal) (Wells-Lassagne 2017:23). Some employ common horror tropes, themes, and visuals popular with fans whilst utilising quality TV’s seriality, such as American Horror Story and The Returned, and we have seen the rise of zombie horror television concurrent with the wider popularity of the monster (Shakir 2015:6, Moore 2016:299-300), such as Dead Set, In the Flesh, Z Nation and iZombie. Such examples not only attest to the growth of horror on television but also indicate the wide variety of horror vehicles that have been produced.
Finally, Dawson notes that ‘[t]elevision’s myriad paratexts open entryways into their parent programmes, fostering encounters between audience and texts’ (2011:44). Paratexts are not confined to TV; they exist over a range of media whilst harnessing the digital potential of online/internet services. Such television often utilises transmedia in its storytelling dynamics and/or audience engagement (Evans 2011). Consequently, transmediality is central to this thesis’ analysis of twenty-first century TV horror.
3.2. Of Industry Gods and Technological Monsters: Transmedia Impacts on