How did monsters in horror films like Jaws give way to more invisible, psychological monsters, such as in The Substance? This is what UvA PhD candidate Alvaro Lopez studied for his doctoral research. A conversation in celebration of Halloween. “Horror films today force the audience to reflect on their own identity and fears.”
While the actors at Walibi Fright Nights are licking their wounds and theme park De Efteling braces itself for the opening of its new haunted castle, Danse Macabre, UvA PhD candidate Alvaro Lopez is arranging the last of the hollow pumpkins at his home. The only thing missing is a good horror film on the eve of Halloween. “Somehow, we’re drawn to our greatest fears. That’s why we enjoy Halloween so much, and it’s also why the horror genre is so popular,” says Lopez. Over the past few years, the PhD candidate has witnessed horror productions thrive. He researched “monstrosity” in European, American, and Latin American horror films for his dissertation. “Horror is often considered not interesting or intellectual enough, despite being one of the most popular genres worldwide.”
What is horror?
What makes horror, horror, has been debated in film studies for decades, says Lopez. The genre is difficult to define. For his research, he stuck to the definition provided by film scholar Linda Williams, known for her work on horror and pornography in the 1990s. “She was often referred to as ‘the porn scholar,’ which overshadowed her work on horror,” Lopez explains. “In her view, horror is one of the three ‘body genres,’ alongside porn and melodrama. These genres provoke instinctive, physical reactions through images. Where porn induces arousal, horror evokes fear and disgust, resulting in chills, tension, or revulsion.”
For his dissertation, Lopez watched hundreds of horror films, including The Shining, The Silence of the Lambs, and The Substance. “After four years of non-stop horror, I can’t say I love the genre as much as I used to,” Lopez says with a laugh. “There was a time when I watched ten to fifteen films a week, and many of them were terrible.” The film scholar analysed horror films and reviews from critics on societal and cultural fears related to globalisation, power, gender, and sexuality. He also examined the socio-cultural context in which the films were made: “A horror film made in Bolivia for a Latin American audience taps into very different fears than those we have here in Western Europe.”
Monstrosity
With the title of his dissertation, Am I a Monster?, Lopez hints at the conclusions of his research. “In the past, monsters were often incomprehensible, irrational beings symbolising what society feared – a dark force embodied for example by zombies, like in Night of the Living Dead, or a shark, like in Jaws. Today, ‘the monster’ is much more ambiguous,” Lopez explains. “They’re presented as complex figures with deeper motivations and emotions, as seen in the popular horror series Monsters: The Lyle and Erik Menendez Story, about two brothers who murder their parents. In this series, they’re not just depicted as inhuman monsters, but also as products of their environment and psychological trauma – a common theme in films and series nowadays. We see this, for example, in more thriller-like films such as Joker. As a result, monsters lose their purely terrifying nature and become more human, making them relatable. You start to wonder: is something wrong with me? Am I a monster? In that sense, horror films increasingly push audiences to reflect on their own identities and fears.”
The end of the ‘queer monster’
This shift in monstrosity is partly due to the monster’s evolution over time, says Lopez. “Take The Silence of the Lambs, the last major film that is considered as openly transphobic. Up until the 1990s, monsters were used to represent societal fears around things like homosexuality and gender. In this horror film, serial killer Buffalo Bill murders overweight women and uses their skin to transform himself into a woman. In film studies, he’s referred to as the ‘queer monster’; he symbolised everything that didn’t fit into normative social and cultural structures and served as a fantasy figure that incited fear and disgust towards non-normative sexuality and gender.”
Over time, however, queer identities have become more normalised, says Lopez. “Or at least, that’s what we like to think. But sexism, homophobia, and transphobia are still very much present in everyday life. This puts the horror genre in a tricky position: the ‘queer monster,’ to stick with that example, is no longer compelling to audiences – ‘It doesn’t sell anymore,’ to use Hollywood terms. So, the genre has to find new ways to address these themes, which means horror is constantly changing.”
To illustrate this, Lopez refers to The Substance, which is currently in cinemas. “The message of this film remains vague, and the monster is no longer a clear source of fear. Directors used the most grotesque and absurd elements to frighten audiences – from blood cannons to exaggerated dysmorphia. Viewers are left wondering: what on earth did I just watch? And that makes sense. The film plays with the boundaries between reality and fantasy and raises questions about identity, humanity, and the social pressures people face, especially within the context of Hollywood and beauty standards. I don’t want to spoil too much, but if you haven’t seen it yet, go watch it. If you have, watch it again!”
Discomfort
According to Lopez, horror films are highly relevant for analysing societal and cultural changes. “When we watch a political drama or a comedy, contemporary issues are often masked. Horror films cannot avoid confronting us with what we don’t like,” he says. “We also see this in The Substance, for example, where the theme of sexism is explored. Whether it’s good or bad isn’t the point; it makes people uncomfortable. And why do people like that? Because we need that discomfort. We may not want to confront what we’re consciously or unconsciously struggling with: political, economic, climate, health, and identity crises. The way horror films sometimes approach these themes helps us deal with that discomfort.”
Lopez encourages everyone to celebrate Halloween. “Join in on spooky season, go watch horror films at the Imagine Festival in Amsterdam, or throw your own Halloween party. Now that the nights are getting longer, we should have more of these kinds of fun events. We’re often so fearful that embracing the other side – your monstrous side – can be good. You especially see this with children: they love being scary and powerful – trick or treat – because it’s also fun. So, for once, be the monster. Break out of your routines – unleash the beast.”