On writing less crap horror movies
Here’s a rare non-TERRIBLE-advice post. Yes I sometimes write them, you friggin’ numpty:
Every skill is easy when you know how. The trick is figuring that out. Read on:
Chris asks
I WANT A TRUE HORROR MOVIE WHERE ALL THE CHARACTERS ARE INTELLIGENT AND DO ALL THE RIGHT THINGS AND TAKE ALL THE PROPER PRECAUTIONS BUT STILL WIND UP GETTING KILLED BY THE ANTAGONIST
NOTHING IS SCARIER THAN DOING EVERYTHING YOU CAN IN VAIN AND STARING IN THE FACE OF FUTILITY
(plus I would like not to yell at the characters for being dumb for once)
My answer
That was the original premise for Predator, wasn’t it? I recall watching a documentary years ago where Arnold Schwarzenegger had said something like that directly.
Like, we all know the tropes of your classic hilarious horror movies: a group of teens in a log cabin, zombies pour in through the walls, the movie makers are genuinely trying to create a tight, gripping atmosphere of horror and dread and death, but … the characters are all such morons that the audience loses all tension, they scoff at the screen and say “oh dear god, obviously you’ll all die horribly if you’re that stupid! What a dumb movie!”
So the idea behind Predator was that, this time, the protagonists aren’t a random splat of teen morons, gracious no, this time they’re hyper-elite special forces. Hardcore soldiers! The first third of the movie barely features or even mentions the Predator itself: instead it covers in graphic detail this astoundingly competent merc team, doing what they do best, in vast amounts, specifically to make the audience think “oh wow, these people are amazing! They’d kick anyone’s ass! God, I’d hate to go up against them!”
And it’s all means to an end. The whole point of all of that is so that, when our Predator finally turns up, even THEY freak out.
And our glorious-bastard villain feels so much more terrifying and dreadful by comparison. The audience are thinking “holy crap, even these invincible unbeatable soldiers are scared of this thing! It’s unstoppable! I’m in for one hell of a ride!”
Then again, Predator may not be the perfect example here. There’s nothing like our allegedly unshakeable special-forces team panic-spraying a million billion bullets into random jungle for minute after minute and blowing through precious ammo to make the audience think “… oookay these chumps may not be so smart.”
Original: https://mikeyclarke.co.nz/blog/2022/3/on-writing-less-crap-horror-movies
Hungry for more?
Bullshit Hors D’oeuvres: TERRIBLE ADVICE posts
Enjoy this snazzy sampling of hintCLICKABLEhint crowd-pleasers:
On conscripting lesbian bitches and gay male dogs through Pray-The-Gay-Away camps for rich entitled floozies: today's TERRIBLE advice
“This is hilarious! I used to think all cats were female when I was a little kid and all dogs were male. haha”
On the surprising advantages of infecting ten thousand douchebag dogs with kissy Covid: today's TERRIBLE advice
“This was such a unique idea ahahahha I never read something like this Coooool”
Everything that's ever happened or ever will happen in the entire goddamn universe: today's TERRIBLE advice
“Mikey, this is a brilliant reminder that life isn't meant to be smoothed over. We've become addicted to the convenience of 'good' advice, but it's the terrible, messy, and absurd stuff that actually makes for a story worth telling.”
Bullshit Banquet: the SEXYVERSE NOVELS
*ahem*
IN A WORLD where wars are fought with romance and flirting and delicious erotic TENSION, the rivalries throbbing between history’s Great Powers have become a BUTTLOAD more bubbly, with fewer hideous massacres of musket and cannon, and OODLES more frisky cunnilingus contests:
The Sex Commandos Thwart The Third Vaginal Apocalypse
Part One: The Knights Of Raw Phwoar
Might Earth’s free nations drown under terrifying tornadoes of French femme-foam? Like hell, shout Britain’s Royal Marines Sex Commandos. Let’s assassinate France’s Imperatrix Brigitte Bardot! Come on. What’s the worst that could happen?
Part Two: The Soviet Sluts Superb
Turns out out-flirting Imperatrix Bardot is like trying to wank off Mt. Blanc when it’s wanking you back. Plan B: skedaddle, regroup, out-flirt the entirety of France and get loads more practice, then it’s stealthy-sneaky Round Two or bust.
Part Three: The Cervical Supremacy
Turns out flirting with every ladybro Rambo in France produces Rivals and Frenemies and Jilted Waifus galore. Smashing fun, but utter Kryptonite for Imperial kill-plans. Like, ever tried noshing off a world leader whilst a billion fanb0is fondle your buttocks? Want to? Read on!
Part Four: The Praetorian Prostitutes
The game’s up! The irresistible force of fanb0i-fondlemania has headbutted the immovable object of a gazillion furious Paris cops. They too thirst for Sex Commando patoot. Crunch time. Either launch one final rocket-strike against Bardot and France, or Earth’s free nations forever perish.
Part Five: [soon, baby]
Click these and enjoy these and your appetites will be SATISFIED.