e. MARCO TEÓRICO
INDICES O RATIOS FINANCIEROS
With the background laid out, it should be clear why a new approach to children’s horror is necessary and where I am poised to make my contribution. These texts have remained invisible in spite of their many points of impact (social, cultural and industrial) and of the many poignant questions they raise about western attitudes. Indeed, the amount of debate these films and books have generated — even though these debates were almost never directly about them — is enough evidence of their problematic nature. Now that these other debates have quieted, it is time to go back and fill the large gap left behind.
The time is right for this analysis as all the elements are finally in full view. It would have been difficult to fully explore this trend’s cultural significance without a clear idea of where it begins and ends, where social debates peak and where (or if) there were any repercussions. In this specific case, being aware of the Millennial generation’s persistent challenge of the traditional life cycle is also of benefit and only possible in recent years as the young adult debates intensified. The Millennial link is moreover key because of the generational gap inherent to children’s horror. As literature showed, academics and critics from the 1980s onward have already addressed these texts and concluded them to be unremarkable. As a Millennial researcher, my historical proximity to the subject reveals itself an advantage: my first-hand experience of being a child in the 1990s, even if in a different country, showed me the predominance of horror in the children’s cultural landscape of the period without the interference of academic or otherwise adult-oriented views and considerations. This close/distant relationship with children’s horror is what presented me with the two
observations I explore in this thesis. First, that what was virtually universally considered horror in the children’s sphere was not so in the adult’s sphere. And second, that the children’s horror trend matches Millennial childhood not just in period (early 1980s to late 1990s) but also in its
37 surrounded by concerns about the ambiguous boundaries of childhood; in the mid-1980s, when the first batch of Millennial children reached pre-adolescence, children’s horror was concerned with the transition from childhood to adolescence and the attempts to define this period of life; in the late 1990s, when most Millennials had become teenagers, children’s horror declined as a trend. These parallels suggest children’s horror as a hub for period-specific struggles over childhood. Once these anxieties were culturally resolved, the trend’s relevance in the adult sphere diminished (no social or academic debate), even as its presence continued to be steady, albeit low-key, in the children’s sphere: children still read Goosebumps and the cinema occasionally hears an echo of children’s horror, as in Joe Dante’s The Hole (2009) or the recent The Visit (M. Night Shyamalan, 2015). In this thesis I propose a timeline of the children’s horror trend and demonstrate its connection to important social, cultural and industrial changes taking place in America during this period. By charting this trend’s milestones between 1980 and 1997, I argue that children’s horror negotiated changing attitudes towards children and horror, breaking away from traditional notions of childhood to establish the pre-teen as a new Millennial demographic. Thus my aims for this project are three- fold: to provide an in-depth account of the children’s horror trend and highlight its cultural and industrial significance; to examine the re-configuration of childhood that took place during this period and introduced the figure of the pre-teen; and to investigate the impact of these shifts in notions of boundaries of horror and of childhood.
Toward a definition of children’s horror
Before I can begin an analysis of the children’s horror trend, I must clarify my terms. As a trend, children’s horror is best described as a powerful burst, an explosion of horror-themed material that spilled into virtually every sphere of children’s culture — films, television, books, games, toys and others — during the 1980s and 1990s. It included films such as Disney’s The Watcher in the Woods
38 (John Hough, 1980), The Black Caldron (Ted Berman & Richard Rich, 1985), Something Wicked This Way Comes (Jack Clayton, 1983) and Little Monsters (Richard Greenberg, 1989), plus Silver Bullet (Daniel Attias, 1985), Critters (Stephen Herek, 1986) and its sequels, Gremlins (Joe Dante, 1984) and Casper (Brad Silberling, 1995), as well as many others. In television, children's horror was
exemplified by programmes such as Are You Afraid of the Dark? or Eerie, Indiana (NBC, 1991-1992), and it was represented in literature by series like Goosebumps and others by R.L. Stine or
Christopher Pike. There were also VHS board games like Nightmare (Mattel, 1991), as well as other games, books and toys derived from the franchises mentioned above. Children’s horror rose abruptly and turbulently in the 1980s, shot up in popularity in the mid-1990s, and just as quickly spiraled down in the later years of the decade, becoming reduced to sporadic echoes in the 2000s and 2010s — Coraline (Henry Selick, 2009), ParaNorman (Chris Butler & Sam Fell, 2012), and the Goosebumps: Horrorland series (2008-2012), among others.
While this description provides some context on the breath of children’s horror, I feel the need to provide the reader with a more detailed definition that can guide this thesis, especially as there are currently no good studies on children’s horror that I can evoke. My preferred term for this subject is children’s horror over the two other possible denominations: youth-oriented horror, which is accurate but a mouthful, and kiddie horror, which has been popularised by the media in relation to Goosebumps and Gremlins but also knows popular use as reference to other kinds of films, usually with derogatory intent.88 As with “Millennials” and “pre-teen,” I choose children’s horror for its neutrality and clarity. To be sure, children’s horror is exactly what it sounds like: horror created with an audience of children in mind. Though I mainly focus on film, children’s horror exists in a variety of media, as mentioned above.
In this thesis, two other terms appear associated to children’s horror: cycle and trend. I have used cycle to refer to the group of children’s horror films between 1980 and 1995 (for recent children’s
88For instance in Ammon Gilbert, "The 10 Most Anticipated Horror Films of 2010," SeattlePI,
39 horror films I have used the term echo). This film cycle comprises the bulk of my argument but is only a part of the children’s horror trend, which was not limited to film and whose timeline extends to 1997. This relationship between the two is in line with Tino Balio’s use of the terms in his history of Hollywood in the 1930s. For Balio, a trend represented “what was popular, when, and, where possible, why,” and is identifiable through “barometers of public taste.”89 Trends are then
subdivided into several different cycles, which “lasted until either the producer ran out of fresh ideas to sustain product variation or until a flood of imitations hit the market.”90 So, for instance, where Balio identified a comedy trend, he also subdivided it into separate cycles, such as screwball or sentimental comedy. However, Balio’s terminology does not allow for multi-media distinctions, so I also take inspiration from Peter Stanfield’s understanding of film cycles. In his book, The Cool and the Crazy, Stanfield analysed film cycles through
films that explicitly exploited contemporary fads in music, the moral panic spurred by juvenile delinquency […], the popularity of alternative forms of entertainment, international events, and vogues in male apparel. In each study, the causal explanation behind the formation of a cycle and its associations with the topical is complex […] In a number of cases, the connection […] is filtered through synergies with other media forms […]; in others, it is tied to modifications in censorship and industry self-regulation, or to shifts in audience demographics[…], as well as to the more direct exploitation of contemporary events such as … moral panics.91
Stanfield’s observations above are particularly fitting to a study of children’s horror: as a trend, it spread across several media, one of which was film, where it manifested as a cycle (with close links to changes in the film industry, audience perceptions, moral panics and other socio-cultural issues).
89 Tino Balio, Grand Design: Hollywood as a Modern Business Enterprise, 1930-1939 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1993), 11.
90 Ibid., 310.
91 Peter Stanfield, The Cool and the Crazy: Pop Fifties Cinema, (New Brunswick, New Jersey; London: Rutgers University Press, 2015), 13.
40 There is no “factor X”92 to children’s horror, but it is nevertheless useful to provide a guiding
definition of the term. I use three main criteria to define children’s horror:
First, the texts should generally have been perceived at their time of release by their creators and their audiences to have a connection to the horror genre, whether they articulated horror with humour (The Monster Squad), without it (The Gate), or with a mixed approach (Gremlins). Here I also include films which are playful in their use of horror motifs and tropes so long as these elements have a significant impact in the text’s aesthetics (The Nightmare Before Christmas) and narrative (The Witches), and particularly if these elements were singled out for major use in advertising campaigns (Casper).
Second, children’s horror stories are always told from the perspective of a child or a child-like character (be it monster, animal or adult in its appearance), and usually explore questions of childhood anxieties, particularly the on-set of puberty. This is in line with Bazalgette and Staples’ suggestion that what distinguishes a children’s film from a family film is that the former is entirely from the child’s perspective.93 There is, however, some cross-over between children’s horror and the family film, and so stories are sometimes also told from a mixed perspective. Importantly, these cross-over examples remain focused on questions of childhood, childhood boundaries and parenting anxieties related to the on-set of puberty, as in Gremlins and Casper.
Third, children’s horror is not associated with notions of education or quality. In the few instances where the connection exists, as in Goosebumps and Scholastic’s “Reading is a scream” campaign, it is not central to consumption or reception. Accordingly, children’s horror is circulated and made popular within children’s culture primarily by the child consumers, their word of mouth and
independent play, rather than being handed-down, suggested or otherwise pre-approved by parents
92 Andrew Tudor, Monsters and Mad Scientists: A Cultural History of the Horror Movie (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1989).
93 Cary Bazalgette; Terry Staples, "Unshrinking the Kids: Children's Cinema and the Family Film," in In Front of the Children: Screen Entertainment and Young Audiences, ed. Cary Bazalgette and David Buckingham (London: British Film Institute, 1995), 96.
41 and educators. For this reason, ratings are of no consideration when identifying a children’s horror film (though they are of tremendous significance when analysing it) — children’s horror is usually rated PG or PG-13 but can also be found under the R rating (Silver Bullet, The Lost Boys).
For added clarity, I will note the types of films I do not include under the label of children’s horror: Horror texts which “other” children or childhood, using them as horrific elements without inviting child identification. These narratives tend to explore adult anxieties unrelated to childhood and parenting, e.g. The Omen, Child’s Play, Village of the Damned.Texts which invite identification with children, sometimes in scary contexts, but which do not use horror motifs in significant ways. Examples would be films like The Goonies (Richard Donner, 1985) and E.T. - The Extra-Terrestrial (Steven Spielberg, 1982).
Horror films which are aimed primarily at teens and do not establish a simultaneous connection with children (unlike, for example, The Lost Boys). Examples would be the Nightmare on Elm Street and Friday the 13th series.
Horror or horror-themed texts with appeal to child audiences, but which do not feature children in the main roles, are not framed within a child’s perspective and do not explore childhood anxieties and preoccupations. Examples would be Ghostbusters (Ivan Reitman, 1984) and Beetlejuice (Tim Burton, 1988).
Horror films framed within the context of being “campy,” not scary or of sub-standard quality. This includes U-rated old monster movies like Creature From the Black Lagoon (Jack Arnold, 1954) and the films usually labelled “kiddie horror” (used derogatorily), such as Ghoulies (Luca Bercovici, 1985) or House.
As the reader can see, this set of criteria applies only to a limited group of texts and an even narrower set of films. Although some earlier experimental texts can be found (such as Phantasm in 1979) and there are a few examples in the 2000s and 2010s, the bulk of these titles as well as the
42 peak of their popularity, social relevance and industrial impact exist in the 1984-1997 period, the time frame of the first Millennials’ childhood and pre-teen years.
It is important to note here a further distinction between the children’s horror cycle and other trends of the period. Film in the 1980s was generally youth-focused and there are many examples of films outside of the horror genre that fit some of the criteria specified above, especially a child’s point of view and a general preoccupation with child empowerment, particularly in the science fiction and fantasy genres (e.g., Explorers [Joe Dante, 1985], The NeverEnding Story [Wolfgang Petersen, 1984]). What is different about horror is its cultural baggage. Fantasy and science fiction have always enjoyed an unproblematic association with child audiences, free from bans and moral panics, and while the 1980s and 1990s might have been a period during which this association was more visible, these films were not greeted with ambivalence over suitability or seen to be a challenge to social order, unlike many children’s horror titles.
Methodology and structure
The reader will have gathered from the rest of this introduction that I place high value on contextual awareness. This is because the “meaning” of a text is flexible; as Janet Staiger has demonstrated in her work, it is the “contextual factors [and not the] textual materials or reader psychologies [that are] most important in the reading process or interpretation.”94 As an example, consider Gremlins, which has enjoyed a resurgence of popularity within the current wave of 1980s nostalgia. Today’s context, as well as the nostalgia which surrounds it, has effected some significant changes in how Gremlins is perceived: the first film and its sequel are now one in collective memory (“the Gremlins franchise”), with the result of the first film’s humour being much highlighted by its sequel and its horror much downplayed by today’s advanced technology and expectations of horror. The
94 Janet Staiger, Interpreting Films: Studies in the Historical Reception of American Cinema (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1992), xi.
43 franchise’s prestige is evident in its recent merchandise line, popular in shop’s physical and online shelves, even though the last film release was over two decades ago. This line targets adult collectors with large, elaborate and expensive action figures (often minimally articulated or not at all, meant for the display cabinet rather than the playroom), board games and “Collector’s Edition” card games, as well as fashionable vintage-look t-shirts and other memorabilia based on all the main gremlins — a vast difference from the original merchandise lines of the 1980s, aimed at children and almost exclusively based on Gizmo. Furthermore, the original and rather dominating objections to violence and the resulting PG-13 controversy are almost entirely irrelevant for contemporary consumers of this franchise.
Similarly, Goosebumps today holds a much different cultural status than it did in the 1990s. Although it is still published, and R.L. Stine is still a popular author, it is no longer a children’s culture
phenomenon and has not been in the children’s bestselling list for many years. Unlike Gremlins, Goosebumps does not have mainstream or cult status, or hold any prestige with adult collectors today, yet it was undeniably “cool” in the 1990s (a status equivalent to prestigious in the children’s world, perhaps). As the physical texts of either franchise have not changed since their original release dates, the only explanation for these radical shifts in cultural perception must be found in their different historical contexts.
To account for this, reception studies is a large part of my methodological approach in this study. In Staiger’s description of reception studies, the object is to research “the history of the interactions between real readers and texts, actual spectators and films.” Because reception studies is history and not philosophy, it “does not attempt to construct a generalized, systematic explanation of how individuals might have comprehended texts, and possibly someday will, but rather how they actually have understood them.”95 This historical approach seems well-suited to the study of children’s horror not just because it bridges cultural distance but also because it addresses the main issue of
44 current literature on the topic, i.e. the immediate assumption that children’s horror is not horror. Here, it is useful to refer to Mark Jancovich’s comments on the important role cultural struggles play in genre definitions. Jancovich pointed out the possibility of “violent disagreements among the consumers of a specific genre over their respective constructions of the field,” noting the
importance of notions of legitimacy and authenticity as “each group distinguishes between the ‘real’ and ‘authentic’ examples of a genre and its ‘inauthentic’ appropriation. On occasions, this distinction becomes a matter of exclusion from the category.”96 Thus he concluded:
The mediation of The Silence of the Lambs illustrates the ways in which genre distinctions operate not to designate or describe a fixed class of texts, but as terms that are constantly and inevitably in a process of contestation. Imbricated in that contest are questions of cultural value, privilege and the authority to determine cultural legitimacy through the act of genre definition. Rather than horror having a single meaning, different social groups
construct it in different, competing ways as they seek to identify with or distance themselves from the term, and associate different texts with these constructions of horror.97
Following Jancovich’s lead, my bid in this thesis is less to return a set of texts to the horror canon than it is to explore the reasons for their ambiguous position. To this end, I have mainly based my work on historical reviews. As Barbara Klinger noted, film reviews “do more than provide
information about how a particular film was received, they offer some insight into broader cultural attitudes.”98 Therefore, I have made extensive use of reviews and other features from publications with measured social or industrial relevance, such as The New York Times and Variety, as evidence of the historical social, cultural and industrial concerns expressed around children’s horror. There is an emphasis on the work of famous critics like Roger Ebert, Vincent Canby or Peter Travers, as these
96 Mark Jancovich, "Genre and the Audience: Genre Classifications and Cultural Distinctions in the Mediation of the Silence of the Lambs," in Horror, the Film Reader, ed. Mark Jancovich (London: Routledge, 2002), 152. 97 Ibid., 159.
98 Barbara Klinger, Melodrama and Meaning History, Culture, and the Films of Douglas Sirk (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1994), 70.
45 were “primary public tastemakers”99 with significant influence. For the most part I used North American items, to keep within the original geographical and cultural context of the children’s horror trend, but I have also referred to British reviews where relevant.
To complement this, I have also analysed promotional material such as posters, trailer, merchandise lines and other marketing campaigns, in order to understand who the intended audience might have been and how the film’s producers chose to address it. This exercise, I believe, can help clarify the