Methods of Revelation

Methods of Revelation:Psychological Assault as Initiatory Torture

in Supernatural Horror Film and Rites of Passage Rituals

By Ivy R. Roberts

Copyright, 2005

Ivy R. Roberts

All Rights Reserved

Ghost traditions have always had a role toplay in explaining the oddities of humanexperience and in giving meaning, shape andform to concepts of the cosmos… At the sametime, of course, these tales of the unexpectedhave retained their power to thrill theimagination and have been at all times one ofthe most consistently popular types ofnarrative.”1

--Gillian Bennett, Traditions of Belief

Rites of passage and horror films employ similar methods of torture, which

allow their participants (novices and audience members) to have a revelation.

While rites of passage function in a culture as a safe gateway, a transitional

period for individuals to transcend social boundaries, supernatural horror films

allow their audience members to safely experience a psychological torture.

Novices undergo physical tortures in initiation similar to haunting experiences

endured by characters in supernatural horror film. The character endures

psychological threat on both physical and psychic planes. The character

undergoes self-doubt, such as a skeptic coming to terms with the existence of an

otherworld. The character in supernatural horror film undergoes psychological

trials and encounters anomalous events or apparitions that alter his or her

worldview.

Good film narratives offer a revelation to their spectators. They may open

up channels of thought previously unknown to the viewers. Good horror film

narratives, likewise, kindle humankind’s ability to change. The connection of the

narrative film journey to that of rites of passage can be justifiably linked, however

the link to ritual practices is less proven.2 The evidence in these pages will

hopefully clarify that link.

Both ritual and horror film deal with liminality: “that which is neither this nor

that, and yet is both.”3 The space is both here and there. Therefore, being in such

a space defines a person as liminal in that he or she exists in between two

planes. The person is both there and not there. Rituals of initiation take place in

liminal space; the novice must be separated from society so as not to

contaminate, for the transitional initiatory process is seen as dangerous.

Supernatural horror films, as well, use space and cinematographic techniques to

offer a perspective on the animistic world. One of the most popular supernatural

narrative elements is the haunted house, which appears in many forms

depending on the story. Haunted houses are liminal spaces; the characters that

enter become liminal beings. The concept of the haunted house is predicated on

the intermingling of divergent spaces: reality and the supernatural otherworld.

Often we find a house or blocked-off area endowed with supernatural power in

these films. The threat of such a space rests in the fact that the unknown power

is malevolent and intelligent.

The concept of the personal worldview also plays a significant role in

horror films for the genre is predicated on the notion of the animated world. The

inanimate objects in these films seem to take on a life of their own, such as the

statues in Hill House in Robert Wise’s The Haunting. The house, specifically,

becomes a character in that is has a personality and an objective. Metaphorical

connotations concerning the haunted house, such as Lacan’s “Mirror Stage” and

Freud’s concept of the uncanny as well as representation of the body, also play a

significant role in the narrative construction of horror film. The house may be

seen as a reflection or personification of its inhabitant.

The generic formula of supernatural horror films integrates concepts of the

unknown. In his book American Nightmares, Dale Bailey outlines the generic

formula of the haunted house film, emphasizing its limited number of variants.4

The formula allows for variations around themes of the unknown and

unknowable. Innately a mystery genre, supernatural horror films approach the

unknown as a quality of the animistic world imbedded in the haunted house. The

monster, as in the spirit that inhabits the house, is an unknowable being whose

mysteries are never to be tapped. In many cases, the mysteries are not solved.

In the initiatory process there is a mentor who functions as a guide

through the unknown much as the antagonistic spirit in supernatural horror

functions as a source of fright. Both submit their novice to a series of ordeals,

which end in a revelation. While the spirits found in supernatural horror film vary

in nature and motive, their effect on the protagonists remains mostly

homogeneous. The spirit alters the protagonist’s worldview, justifiably changing

his or her life. In the case of initiation, the novice emerges as a different person in

a different stage of society.

The following study integrates analysis of supernatural horror films with

ritual studies in order to show the relationship between supernatural storytelling,

supernatural belief systems and rites of passage.

Introduction to Ritual Initiation

Rites of passage exist in society to guide people through a difficult life

transitions. Puberty transition rites are composed of a series of ordeals

necessary for novices to transcend social boundaries and change in social

status. The process varies culture to culture, but there remain strong and

significant common variables.

Societies protect their sacred knowledge above all. In order for initiates to

gain access to this knowledge they must endure a regiment of tortures including

symbolic disembowelment, prohibition, and seclusion from society. Initiatory

tortures include a symbolic deconstruction and reconstruction of their bodies

representing their clean beginning in a new social status. Though these tortures

are theatrical, there remains a degree of pain. The novices endure prohibition of

food, sunlight, physical contact, and sleep. Taught by mentors, the novices

eventually become aware of a larger spiritual existence. The novices immerge

from an initiatory process born anew, having undergone a physical, psychological

and spiritual transformation.

The height of the ordeals of the initiation rite is the symbolic reenactment

of death, which enables the novices to transcend their corporeal plane. Once

“dead,” the novice communicates with his ancestors, receiving greater

knowledge concerning the birth of the world, considered a mythic history: “The

experience of initiatory death and resurrection not only basically changes the

neophyte’s fundamental mode of being, but at the same time reveals to him the

sacredness of human life and of the world, by revealing to him the great mystery,

common to all religions, that men, with the cosmos, with all forms of life, are the

creation of the Gods.”5 The enactment of a death experience brings the initiate

closer to life when they return. With the acceptance of the greater tribal

knowledge, the initiate has survived the greatest human threat (the triumph over

death).

Though symbolic death is a necessary event in ritual, the passing of an

individual is certainly a negative one in reality. We suffer and grieve when we

loose a loved one, for we cannot conceive of a positive alternative to life. Just as

we fear death in our everyday lives, we shudder at a character’s death in film.

Death comes unnaturally in horror films. Characters mutilated by the monster are

filled with fear at the moment of death. In film and in everyday life, death is final;

you will not come back to learn your lesson.

Death is a transition, just like any other phase in life. At the heart of ritual

lies transition; it is the underlying meaning, purpose and method utilized in these

rites. Whether it is social, as in an initiatory transcendence from novice to expert,

or psychological, as in the passage from sane to psychotic or naïve to aware, the

transitional space is always situated between oppositions. This in-between area

is termed “liminal” because of its marginality. When existing in a liminal state you

are both there and not there. You have departed from the social space and have

not yet entered into the sacred: “This coincidence of opposite processes and

notions in a single representation characterizes the peculiar unity of the liminal:

that which is neither this nor that, and yet is both.”6 The liminal phase is an

intermediate stage in which the traveler exists in a fluxed transition.

A chaotic quality is representative of the liminal phase because of its

constant subversion. Because the state is associated with structurelessness,

there can be neither order nor stability. Societal hierarchy vanishes. In the liminal

period, novices retain none of their social constraints, labels or qualities. They

are thought to have lost all relationships and ties to their community:

Every element of existence may be found severed from its usual context,juxtaposed by its usually mutually exclusive opposite, and assembled intonew, totally nonsensical combinations. Thus, all the usual social states ofgender, age, hierarchy, as well as even more basic opposites such ashuman and divine, human versus animal, and dead versus alive, may benegated and reverted in the liminal state.7

This stripping process functions, however, as a transition. The liminal period not

only takes these qualities from the novice, but also endows them with new

qualities on departure.

In instances where an initiation occurs in the forest, the novices are

similarly meant to enter an otherworld. The forest becomes a liminal area in that

it exists away from the given society. In many cases there may be a wary attitude

associated with the forest as a dangerous place. Cultures seem to guard against

the outside. They tend to place barriers to set them apart from what they are not,

to set limits on going outside the comfortable periphery of the area known to the

society. The borderland, the uncultivated area outside the town or village, is

tabooed because of its unfamiliarity and otherness. There is a heightened sense

of danger there: “Bringing somebody to these areas outside the polis implied that

he or she was removed from civil society in more ways than just spatially.”8 This

removal of the novice from society marks his status as a non-entity. The novice

becomes a liminal being because he has entered a spatially liminal area.

Ritual theory and practice are not restricted to the social world. Instances

of liminality, ritual symbols and initiatory ordeals can be related to aspects of art

and events in everyday life. While the theoretical level of ritual may seem specific

to its own avenue it can be applied to many different issues, thereby shedding

light on implications and embedded meanings. As we shall see, ritual practices

can be found in horror film narratives. The implications that arise from the

association of ritual with horror raise questions of social relevance. In modern

post-industrial society rites of passage are still necessary, though not inherently

visible. Just as puberty initiation is necessary for ascension into adulthood,

commencement and wedding ceremonies function in a similar, though subtler,

way. Since initiation functions as a gateway between social boundaries, it is still

entirely necessary in modern society.

Part I: Ritual Initiation in Horror FilmPsychological Assault in The Haunting

A similar transformative process can be found in supernatural horror film.

Though characters in horror film rarely regenerate from death (save in zombie

movies), the initiatory ordeal is paralleled by psychological torture and haunting.

For example, Robert Wise’s The Haunting portrays the psychological tortures of

Eleanor Vance during her stay at Hill House, a haunted mansion. In this scenario

we see the importance of segregated space playing a role in psychological and

supernatural assault.

Much of the power of the film rests on its long sequences of psychological

assault. Both occur in Eleanor’s bedroom, a supposedly safe place - were it not

within the monster of Hill House. The first event concerns disembodied voices at

night. The voice of Hugh Crain and of a child assault Eleanor and Theo while

they are in bed. The scene rests on the sound design; the voices outside the

room become angry, sad and violent. There are screams and cries. One moment

the sound will be at a piercing pitch, the next it will diminish all together, then

come back even worse. All the while the camera is focused on Eleanor and

Theo; we see their agonized faces as they stare at the door, hoping like nothing

else that the voices will not take form and enter their safe room. Inserted

between the shots of the women are close-ups on the door: the doorknob rattles

and the camera glances around the edges of the door for a hint of a crack.

Though we never leave the room or see the thing to be feared, the terror of the

scene revolves around the possibility of intrusion.

The second night assault comes in much the same way. Voices accost

Eleanor from the outside, waking her from sleep. The camera focuses tight on

Eleanor in bed, so tight in fact, that we have little orientation in the room. There is

so much terror visible in her face that the viewer is transfixed. While we see her

fear and hear the terrorizing voices, we feel the same while seeing nothing of the

monster. Eleanor asks Theo to hold her hand; she squeezes so tight that Eleanor

calls back, “Theo, you’re breaking my hand.” Once the voices cease, Eleanor

finds herself on the opposite side of the room from Theo. “Whose hand was I

holding?” she asks. The looks on their faces tell the scene purely at that point.

The camera rests on Eleanor’s hand, held out from the covers, fingers curled

inward as if she were holding someone’s hand. These scenes function in the film

as tortures would in an initiatory ritual, awakening them to the existence of a

greater, more powerful force. With each new event the intensity grows, driving

Eleanor to a breaking point while testing her endurance.

Eleanor Vance endures a series of psychologically intense ordeals in Hill

House causing her to alter her worldview. While previously unconfident and

indecisive she comes to the revelation, made possible by the terrors encountered

there, that she has the power to control her own life. She does exactly that. Filled

with passion and certainty, she makes the decision to drive off, crashing her car

into a tree. Through the regiment of initiatory tortures in the alternative form of

psychological and supernatural assault, Eleanor comes to believe Hill House is

alive, that the haunting spirits wanted her to be with them, and that she was in

contact with Hugh Crain, the deceased owner of the estate.

Watching omnisciently, we may be able to see the dichotomy of mental

illness and belief in the supernatural at work in the film. We may also see how, as

a result of the haunting experiences, Eleanor’s worldview has changed and her

perspective has narrowed. Eleanor does not consider the possibility that the

ghosts may be a product of mental illness because of her first hand experience.

The haunting spirits of Hill House have clouded Eleanor’s vision so that she

cannot see omnisciently. However, to approach from Eleanor’s point of view, we

can also see that the psychological tortures broke down her defenses so that she

believed in the reality of the ghosts. This new belief causes Eleanor to become a

new person. Eleanor’s final decision, which ends in her death, is the result of an

altered state of mind due to her initiatory ordeals.

Ritualistic Death in The Blair Witch Project

Supernatural horror films also manipulate ritual concepts of death and

liminality. In The Blair Witch Project the filmmakers, Heather, Josh and Michael,

attempt to make a documentary on a legendary witch, Elly Kedward. They enter

the woods outside Burkittsville, Maryland, in search of traces of her story.

Unfamiliar with the terrain, however, they become lost. Supposedly due to the

witch’s influence, they have uncanny experiences (the concept of the uncanny

will be discussed in a later chapter). The bizarre and frightening events heighten

until they loose their grip on reality.

In the woods, the filmmaker trio undergoes an initiatory experience.

Heather, Josh, and Michael leave their familiar environment only to enter a

foreign world where supernatural spirits (Elly Kedward and her children) terrorize

them. Segregated in the woods away from civilization, they are stripped of their

links to society, alone and afraid in an unknown world. The events, primarily the

ones occurring at night, function as psychological initiatory tortures. At night the

woods fill with the cries of the children she had murdered. One night they must

flee from their tent when the assault becomes too intense. It seems as if the

witch needed to test their abilities, found them unworthy, and punished them for

it.

Kedward functions as an initiatory guide, subjecting the three hikers to the

death involved in their boundary crossing. Systematically she segregates them in

order to kill them. First, the witch takes Josh from the tent at night. She kills him

in the woods and leaves his teeth for the other two to find. The next morning

Heather and Michael hear his screams reverberating through the woods.

The three hikers have to be convinced of Kedward’s existence and

presence. As skeptics, they automatically suppose that the sounds and uncanny

events have been brought on by human forces. The supernatural experiences

must be resoundingly terrifying so that they will loose their rationality. Once Josh

disappears, Heather and Michael begin to believe. Having lost faith, Michael

destroys the map in the stream.

Heather and Michael reach the height of their ordeal at the climax of the

film. That night an abandoned house unexplainably appears in the woods outside

their tent. It turns out to be the house where Kedward had kept the children.

There are handprints on the walls and the sounds of the children still reverberate

in the walls. The two are separated, running through the house with cameras still

in their hands. In the basement, Michael and Heather finally meet their tutor and

are ritually hung. The systematic, ritualistic process that Kedward plans for the

hikers relies on an initiatory model.

Liminality In The Others

The concept of liminality may also be helpful in a discussion of Alejandro

Amenabar’s The Others. As a result of the stripping of identity and the

evaporation of hierarchical status, liminal personae lose their place in society,

though only for the duration of their stay in the liminal state. There is no place in

a society for a stranger devoid of name and status. Strangers may be feared or

even hated by a group because they are outsiders. Because of unfamiliarity, the

outsider poses a great threat to the group as a symbol of the unknown, perhaps

the otherworldly, the sacred and the tabooed.9 Novices in the liminal period pose

danger to society because of their otherness, their lack of classification: “A

society’s secular definitions do not allow for the existence of a not-boy-but-man,

which is what a novice in a male puberty rite is.”10 Novices are exposed to greater

knowledge, to mysteries of the past, and to the presence of demigods: tabooed

knowledge that, if accessible to any layman, would mean death.

The Others takes place in a physically and psychologically liminal state.

While the characters refer to Purgatory (in between life and death, Heaven and

Hell), liminality is not dissimilar. The estate, the primary location of the film, is

engulfed in fog; no one can leave. Grace, the main character, attempts to travel

to the village and is overcome by the fog; the road is impassable and society is

unreachable. The spatial marginality in the film bolsters the psychological

liminality.

The mystery of the film lies in uncovering the truth behind the characters’

being. Only at the end of the film do we realize they have not accepted their

deaths. Therefore, Grace and her two children have been living in a liminal state,

after having experienced their deaths and not understood the event. Their

existence between life and death, between ignorance and realization,

authenticates their liminal presence.

The Others deals with transition from life to death as well as the

realizations that come with it. In initiation, ritual death involves a masking of the

symbols and practices of funereal procedures. The novice inherits the symbolism

of being torn between two worlds, associated both with the dead and the living:

“The boys between ten and twelve years old drink a potion that makes them

unconscious. They are then carried into the jungle. . .They are buried in the fetish

house, and that when they wake they seem to have forgotten their past life.

During their seclusion in the jungle they are painted white (certainly a sign that

they have become ghosts).”11 With the loss of memory, the novices become

ghosts so that they loose their connection with the human world. With the untying

of bonds with the past, initiates become liminal personae associated with

nonbeing: a ghost existing between the world of the living and the dead. Initiates

of transition rites often display an “imitation of the behavior of ghosts, for the

novices are considered to be in the other world and are assimilated to the

dead.”12 The novices are removed from their natural world by being symbolically

bound to the other world.

Initiatory Death and Torture: The Shining and Session 9

Aside from psychological ordeals and liminal space, other aspects of ritual

practice can be found remarkably paralleled in supernatural horror film. The ritual

reenactment of death, for example, appears in both instances. The meaning and

relevance of the death act in horror film varies in importance case by case,

however. As we have seen, ritual death in The Blair Witch Project functions

centrally. The death in The Others occurs before the film begins. The death in

The Haunting functions as an end to Eleanor’s journey. Death in supernatural

horror film, while respective, remains an important turning point in the characters’

journeys whatever its placement within the narrative.

The initiatory ritual reaches its height with the funeral act. As the novices

are “dead,” they transcend the human world and enter the otherworld. They don

the symbols of the dead achieving closeness with their ancestors. Many ritual

elements converge in the reenactment of the funereal act. Though the process

varies cross-culturally, the ends are similar. On a whole, the means are justifiably

more similar than not: “The Great Spirit cuts off his head. He gives it back to him

the next day, when the head begins to decompose, and resuscitates him.”13

Common motifs may be found in different cultures such as the burial of the

novices as a return to the soil and the appearance of monstrous demons that

commit the murderous acts. Nonetheless, the meaning of the act remains for the

most part consistent. The novices are meant to die in order to be born again.

During the period in which the novice is considered to be dead, he is treated in

the most realistic fashion, as a vacant corpse:

In so far as the neophyte is structurally ‘dead,’ he or she may be treated,for a long or short period, as a corpse is customarily treated in his or hersociety. . .The neophyte may be buried, forced to lie motionless in theposture and direction of customary burial, may be stained black, or maybe forced to live for a while in the company of a masked and monstrousmummers representing, inter alia, the dead.14

This process grants the initiates a period of self-reflection. They must lay still and

silent, as they are dead to their society. During this time they may enter a place

in themselves that has never before been reached. A new part of them may

awaken, thus leading to the death of the neophyte’s past.

The character of Jack Torrance in The Shining endures a test of strength

similar to that of initiation. The escalation of events through the film shows his

worsening mental stage and his growing acceptance of the alternate reality made

by the ghosts of the Overlook Hotel. The ghosts appear to be real, not just to

Jack but to his wife and son as well. They present themselves in the continuum

of reality. The ghosts eventually come to hold such a strong force over Jack that

they control him. The bartender, Lloyd, the woman in room 237, and the former

caretaker, Delbert Grady, are the prominent assailants.

The ghosts of the Overlook Hotel submit Jack to a series of ordeals. Their

assault targets Jack’s subconscious. Jack is pushed to the brink, though we

sense little of his resistance, to the point where he finds it necessary to “correct”

his wife and son. The constant coercion from the bartender leads Jack into the

mindset where he forgets his conscience, losing his hold on reality and his love

for his family. Through the slow pace of the film and its long, meandering dollies

through the hotel, Jack’s psychological journey is the accumulative realization of

a series of ordeals. We follow Jack as he is pulled further and further into the

ghost world of the Overlook Hotel. Toward the end of the film there is little to no

psychological resemblance between the Jack we knew at the start and the one

running around with an axe. The ghosts succeed in convincing Jack to do their

bidding. Jack, therefore, becomes the hand of the tutor in the initiation,

attempting to perform the ritual deaths of his wife and son for the ghosts.

The power that the ghosts hold over Jack correlates to ritual practices.

Jack relinquishes his faculties of conscience and physical ability, albeit without

consent, to the ghost’s control, which allows them to play him like a puppet: “In

the disorder of the mind, in dreams, faints and frenzies, ritual expects to find

powers and truths which cannot be reached by conscious effort. Energy to

command and special powers of healing come to those who can abandon

rational control for a time.”15 Looking at the film from a ritual perspective, it could

be gleaned that Jack’s submission would allow him to gain a deeper supernatural

power following his ghost possession (because of the power afforded him by the

ghosts). If we assume that Jack’s possession and initiation serve to yield him

subsequent power, his journey through the supernatural trials tests his will and

strength. Relinquishing control over his mind and conscience, Jack gains a

perspective from the ghosts, which could be interpreted as insanity.

Theoretically, however, following his exposure to the ghost’s will, Jack would

return to his life with greater power. This is not the case in The Shining, since the

wife and son succeed in escaping and Jack perishes in the snow. Jack ultimately

fails in initiating his family, thereby failing to gain supernatural power for himself.

A similar pattern can be seen in Brad Anderson’s Session 9. Set in an

abandoned psychiatric hospital, the film concerns an asbestos cleaning crew

who enters the facility. The film presents itself as a slasher film (a horror sub-

genre in which the monster or villain slaughters his victims systematically) with

supernatural overtones. The film’s setting adds a spooky, ominous quality to the

events, establishing the tone of the film. Based on the lore surrounding the

abandoned mental asylum, the film investigates psychology more than

supernatural terror. The fright in the film centers more around its slasher nature

than on the ghosts that seem to haunt the grounds. In Session 9 the monster

seems to be the psychological illnesses embedded in the place itself, somehow

leftover from the patients who once lived there. That illness, set upon the

characters in the form of a disembodied haunting voice named Simon, infects

only one person, the main character and leader of the group, Gordon. Through

the course of the film the illness invades Gordon to such an extent that it forces

him to kill all of his companions. Simon’s hold on Gordon is very strong; he holds

him in a psychological limbo so that Gordon cannot tell reality from dream. His

memory is altered and largely blacked out during that period. While Gordon is

under Simon’s power, Simon systematically initiates Gordon into an altered

worldview. That perspective is one prescribed by mental illness. Simon teaches

Gordon, forcefully that is, to see the world from an altered perspective. In a

sense, Simon inhabits Gordon in order to perform this transformation. Gordon,

then, becomes his tutor’s physical hand, able to reach his companions with a

knife and ritually slaughter them.

Shamanic Initiation in Vampyr

Monsters not only attack the body, but also the mind. Similar to puberty

rites, shamanic initiation also functions as a transitional boundary crossing.16 The

shamanic initiatory process occurs primarily in the dreams of the novice: “The

sufferings of the elected man are exactly like the tortures of initiation; just as in

puberty rites. . .the novice is ‘killed’ by semidivine or demonic beings, so the

future shaman sees in his dreams his own body dismembered by demons.”17 Just

as we find that esoteric space is vital for rites of passage, the spiritual plane

constitutes the same kind of space in shamanic initiation. As the novice

encounters monsters in the forest, the shaman meets his grotesque spirit in

dreams once he has transcended spiritual planes and entered an otherworld.

The shaman’s initiatory sacred space is, then, a higher plane of existence

constituted by a dream state and a journey to heaven or hell.

Carl Dreyer’s 1931 film Vampyr also shows initiatory patterns in its story

and characters. The main character, Allan Grey, is a dreamer. We see his

dreams, distinctly altered from reality, on screen. The camera movement draws

the audience out of reality into an altered consciousness. Opposed to ordinary

standard coverage, even opposed to German Expressionist wide master shots of

the time, Dreyer stylized the film so that the camera becomes the dreamer’s eye.

Rather than following the character, the camera functions as a disembodied

subjective viewer. For example, camera pans or dollies around objects in a room

while other events occur. The focus, for the camera and therefore for the viewer’s

eye, becomes the privileged perspective of the world rather than the objective

actions of the characters. The viewer enters into an altered state of mind where

(rather than following a character vicariously) they see the world as the “I,”

subjectively. The audience becomes another character, inhabiting the camera’s

lens.

Vampyr visualizes other initiatory patterns as well. On multiple occasions

we see Allan Grey separate from his body (using a rudimentary special effects

technique of overlapping shots to make it seem like the character leaves his body

as a ghost). The film involves an investigation of unnatural phenomena. When

Grey leaves his body he searches for the truth behind the blood-leeching illness

that is sweeping the town. When he returns with information we see that he has

changed. Grey’s journey in spirit form can be related to initiatory quests where

the novices leave their bodies to find greater meaning in alternate planes of

existence.

Allan Grey’s journey can also be related to the transition of the shaman.

The film relies on dream sequences to show Grey’s inquisitive sensibility, his

curiosity, and the mystery of the world: “Dreyer ignores the conventions,

concentrating instead on an atmosphere where shadows are independent of their

sources, where every whisper, every mournful toll of a bell has a great – but

elusive – significance.”18 Grey’s journey can best be understood visually. He

wanders and watches as an observer. Traveling as a ghost, he witnesses secret

events and attains prohibited knowledge. He then returns to his body to

manipulate that knowledge to his advantage.

Part II: Cultural Aspects of HauntingWorldview and Belief Systems

In order to propel their viewers into an alternate world, horror films make

use of a particular worldview. The characters in this unique world also prescribe

to a particular belief system. The genre-specific worldview of horror film enables

the narratives to portray a substantially altered reality. The world of the horror film

is a heightened reality, paranoid and tense. It corresponds well with what

anthropologist Mary Douglas calls the personal worldview. She describes the this

worldview as:

The lot of individual humans is thought to be affected by power inhering inthemselves or other humans. The cosmos is turned in, as it were, on man.Its transforming energy is threaded on to the lives on individuals so thatnothing happens in the way of storms, sickness, blights, or droughts,except in virtue of these personal links. So the universe is man-centered inthe sense that it must be interpreted by reference to humans.19

For someone with a personal worldview, the world takes on human attributes.

Nature is seen as a humanlike force in that it has emotions and even intentions.

It is not out of the ordinary in this case for a natural force to be perceived in a

human form. Likewise, manmade objects and structures become more powerful

due to the fact that they come from the hand of man. A house, for instance, made

by man, would thus receive the man’s power. The house would have its own life

force, its own soul, and its own personality: “Physical forces are thought of as

interwoven with the lives of persons. Things are not completely distinguished

from persons and persons are not completely distinguished from their external

environment. [The universe] discerns the social order and intervenes to uphold

it.”20 The personal worldview may filter into paranoia as well. When everything

has a face, eyes and mind, you are never alone. The house, as well, may be

seen as a part of its maker and vice versa. Objects become personified and the

fears of the person are relayed into the object: “The discourse of paranoid

horror…presupposes a thoroughly unreliable world. In this respect it is popular

and pleasurable because its basic codes correlate with our distinctive experience

of fear, risk and instability in modern society.”21 Perhaps because ‘modern

society’ fears and distrusts spiritual modes of thinking, a personal worldview is to

be feared. When participants in this ‘modern society’ touch or feel links to the

animistic world, it fills them with fear. These linking objects become symbols of

the unknown.

Horror films are peopled with skeptics and believers. They counteract

each other with their varying belief systems. The skeptics tend to deny the

spiritual while the believers uphold traditions and rely on their intuition. With

these two character types we already have a good source of conflict. From these

two types stem vivid dramatic situations and intentions. The skeptics, confronted

with a problem, will unhesitatingly veer toward a logical answer. The believers

lean toward intuitive answers based on their spiritual beliefs. “People in haunted

house stories act in consistently unbelievable ways; they remain in the house

long after any rational person would leave. The illogical behavior of the character

is necessary to the development of such a tale.”22 Though the audience screams,

“get out of the house,” the characters as well as the writers who deny natural

logic, insist on raising the stakes. Writers abandon logic for the intuitive in order

to show the paranoia and fear which stems from such perilous situations. In The

Shining, though we quiver at the appearance of Grady, we accept his

unbelievable reality. Though his presence defies logic, but he walks and talks like

everyone else. Jack accepts his reality, however, for he functions with his

intuitive senses. These illogical actions are also the effect of inhabiting a

personal worldview. Intuitive thinking yields power to the person so that they may

better see and feel the energies of the universe. Though this perspective is

greatly neglected in our culture, it is not dead. We see the illogical actions of

haunted characters in horror films and believe them to have gone mad or to have

lost all reason. A character may base his decision on his beliefs and worldview.

Folklorist Gillian Bennett, in her investigation of belief systems, uses the

terms “mysticism” and “skepticism” to contrast intuition and logic:

Mysticism gains for its adherents a relaxed acceptance of life’s odditiesand the cosmos of the material world. It allows them to control disorderand take away its sting by accepting it. The skeptical tradition is also aresponse to anxiety about chance and fate, but here the strategy is toignore or deny the disorder.”23

The juxtaposition between a believer and a skeptic, then, is a great one. While

the believer or mystic accepts and learns from the unknown the skeptics turn

away from the questions in fear. This difference also adds a great deal to

dramatic conflict in horror film. Dramatic characters, like skeptical Luke in The

Haunting, fear the supernatural, flee from it and try to avoid its power. On the

other hand, a believer such as Dr. Markway stands in drastic opposition,

supporting the power and needed respect of the unknown occurrences. These

two opposing belief systems contrast most dynamically in horror films that deal

with haunting.

Medical Folklorist David Hufford’s work has demonstrated a link between

experience and belief. His studies and subsequent theories argue that personal

experiences affect the construction of belief systems. For instance, when a

person witnesses a supernatural occurrence, that person is from that point on

more likely to believe in the supernatural based on that experience. Hufford’s

theories are based on what he calls “core experiences,” moments of revelation

on which personal beliefs are based. Hufford describes the core belief system of

supernatural experience as the following:

There is a common core, and it consists in the belief that there exists anorder (1) that is objectively real, (i.e.: not ‘all in the mind’); (2) that isqualitatively different from the everyday material world (e.g., invisible attimes); (3) that interacts with this world in certain ways (e.g., answers toprayer, visits from deceased loved ones); and (4) that includes beings thatdo not require a physical body in order to live (e.g., God, souls of thedeceased, angels, evil spirits).24

An experience has the ability to alter an individual’s perception of the world. If

you were to witness a UFO landing, you would probably believe in the existence

of aliens. Though you may question the reliability of your eyes, your beliefs would

be altered nonetheless.

Freud’s Uncanny

Freud’s theory of the uncanny, as well, has been linked to many

discussions concerning horror narrative. It takes into account unlikely situations

and outcomes, which heightens the sense of peril and mystery in stories

involving the supernatural. Take for instance the return to Coffin Rock in The

Blair Witch Project. The hikers find themselves unexplainably back at a

recognizable place. In the narrative it can be considered that the hikers, intending

to follow a different path, were influenced by the unseen force of Elly Kedward. In

his essay Freud describes this facet of the uncanny as “a recurrence of the same

situations, things and events.” He continues by noting, “this phenomenon does

undoubtedly, subject to certain conditions and combined with certain

circumstances, awaken an uncanny feeling, which recalls that sense of

helplessness sometimes experienced in dreams.”25 Freud described a similar

situation in his article on the uncanny. The uncanny refers to any situation, over-

abundantly ironic, which bears a remarkably eerie quality:

Our analysis of instances of the uncanny has led us back to the old,animistic conception of the universe, which was characterized by the ideathat the world was peopled with the spirits of human beings, and by thenarcissistic overestimation of subjective mental processes…as well as byall those other figments of the imagination with which man, in theunrestricted narcissism of that stage of the development strove towithstand the inexorable laws of reality. It would seem as though each oneof us has been through a phase of individual development correspondingto that animistic stage in primitive men, that none of us has transversed itwithout preserving certain traces of it which can be re-activated, and thateverything which now strikes us as ‘uncanny’ fulfills the condition ofstirring those vestiges of animistic mental activity within us and bringingthem to expression.26

Though Freud assumes that everyone goes through a stage of life where they

view the world as personal and animistic, others, such as Bennett and Hufford

support the theory that some of us base our beliefs on experiences perhaps

unrelated to that stage of development.

The uncanny correlates to the concept that man and the universe hold

their own power. In contrast to a man-centered universe, the uncanny prescribes

a universe where the power of man has been leeched out. In this worldview, the

universe holds more power than the individual and is then considered ominous

and animated. Unknown and unexplainable events become associated with the

idea of the uncanny. Freud continues, “the better oriented in his environment a

person is, the less readily will he get the impression of something uncanny in

regard to the objects and events in it.”27 If the events were to be explained, there

would remain no question of the meanings and manner to which it occurred.

However, in the event of a spatial dislocation such as that of the return to Coffin

Rock or of Freud’s own anecdote of the piazza, there can be no understandable

answer to the event. The occurrence remains a mystery and is endowed with the

feeling of the uncanny because the reasons remain imbedded in the unknowable

universe.

Ritual Space And Horror Film Settings

One of the strengths of the genre lies in its atmosphere. Dark old houses,

cemeteries, and low-lit castles populate these films because of their mystery.

Just as we hear old wives tales of the old, forgotten house at the edge of town,

we see the same in the films that scare us the most. The atmosphere of the

horror film depends on its setting in order to build awareness of the story world,

which illustrates the film’s worldview:

Another of the fears which the terror-film articulates for us is connectedwith the spirit of place. Whole towns may be enveloped in an uncannyatmosphere…The terror-film likes, especially, to convey the impression –common to ‘Old Dark House’ and ‘Haunted Castle’ movies…– that eviladheres to some particular building.28

The power of supernatural horror depends highly on the atmosphere and setting

so much so that you never know what is beneath the darkness. At any corner

you might come face to face with the demon. Hiding in any shadow, behind any

door, it could be waiting. Though it remains hidden, we know it exists. We know it

hunts because of the creepiness of the setting. We never feel safe in the house

or in the town: “We are tempted to conclude that what is ‘uncanny’ is frightening

precisely because it is not known and familiar.”29 The defining characteristic of

supernatural horror comes down to location due to the necessities of paranoia,

suspense and terror.

In horror films that focus on atmosphere, it is often the setting that takes

on the terror rather than an individual monster or antagonist. Films like The

Haunting, The Others and The Blair Witch Project focus on their setting while

showing little to nothing of a monster. The antagonist may be named, suggested

or blamed, however, the fear remains in the atmosphere of the place. In The

Haunting, the characters are assaulted from every which angle because they are

inside the monster, Hill House. The terror is inescapable while entirely unseen.

The Others, in fact, has no antagonist. The fear in the film revolves around the

isolation and paranoia of protagonist. Certain fingers are pointed, of course, at

the supposed monster of the moment, but, it turns out, there is no prevailing

threat. The mystery of the film and its terror lies in the house and the

atmosphere. The Blair Witch Project is also a fine example of atmosphere since

little is shown of the monster. The antagonist, presumably the Witch of the

Forest, Elly Kedward, seems ubiquitous while remaining hidden. The fear of the

characters, trapped in the strange openness of the woods, engages the audience

so much so that we are thoroughly led to believe she may be behind any tree,

lying in wait: “The contemporary haunted house rarely serves merely to contain

the unquiet spirits of past human inhabitants…The house itself usually takes on

an actively antagonistic role, to which any apparitions, if they exist at all, become

subordinate.”30 It seems what filmmakers have been able to realize in recent

times is that audiences are able to connect with their terror without being riddled

by gore, stricken with shock, or raced at by bloody madmen. The same terror that

resides in slasher films, gore flicks and zombie movies is also present in

supernatural horror. The difference seems to be the lengths to which the

filmmakers will go in order to terrify their audience. Some have self-control; some

have realized that the fear connected with our closest, most private spaces can

be the most powerful.

The terror felt in supernatural horror is emitted not from the antagonist, for

in many of these films there is no solidly imposed evil, no human-like character

existing to spread the fear. Much of the fright of the film comes from the setting.

In many cases, this evil is personified as a house. The world, in effect, becomes

alive because of its specificity. Hill House in The Haunting displays such life:

[Director] Wise digs deep into his bag of cinematic and editing tricks toendow Hill House with life. By visually disorienting his audience, hesupports [-through actual demonstration- the novel’s claims] that thehouse is psychologically unstable. This disorientation is variouslyachieved: the framing of mise-en-scene inside Hill House is frequentlycanted from a whole host of different angles; a prototype 30mm wideangle lens, at the time not commercially available, was employed fordisorientation purposes; rapidly edited montage sequences and multi-speed camera work…make it next to impossible to get a handle on spatialrelations. In addition, Wise bestows on Hill House a kind of proto-consciousness by alternating between medium shots of Eleanor andlocation shots of the house itself, thereby establishing a virtual dialoguebetween them; cutting to close-ups of wall patterns resembling faces andstatues with eyes that hum with life; high overhead shots of Eleanor thatturn into unclaimed points of view that swoop down and threaten her; andsituating…off-centered mirrors throughout the house and having themfunction as eyes, reflecting images of the unwelcome tenants back tothem (at times only to the audience) when least expected.31

By creating an atmosphere of fear, we are always on guard and always

expecting to see that manifested evil around every distorted corner. In the

darkness, the manifested evil is everywhere. If we were to see it face-to-face, it

would loose its mysterious haunting power. The terror of supernatural horror is so

vivid because the characters are inside the evil.

Certain sections of houses are more sinister than others. The attic and the

basement care found especially prominent in horror film because of the limited

use in everyday life. Often basements and cellars are dark; children fear to enter

because of their disuse and atmosphere. Doorways, as well, hold value as a

meeting place between public and private space: “The terrors of attic and cellar

(places where unwanted things are stuffed away and can reappear with

attendant horrors) and those of the stairway (where transitions are made, where

we – or something menacing us – can pass from one enclosed space to another)

have also been thoroughly explored by a multitude of filmmakers.”32 Doorways

mark the barrier between inside and out, between security and danger. We lock

our doors at night in order to keep the bad things out and to keep our dearest

safe. We ultimately fear the breaking and entering of strangers, of danger, of the

outside intruding inward. These cultural fears are very much taken advantage of

in horror film. Certain rooms of the house are more private than others, as well.

We place taboos over strangers or guests entering bedrooms and bathrooms.

Our most guarded spaces, our most private rooms are often the ones we see

being intruded upon in horror films.

It seems that supernatural horror films center their terror in or around a

particular room or area. These places function in the films as a focal point of the

implied terrorizing evil. In The Haunting, for example, the center of the house is

the nursery for a few different reasons. In the story, the nursery is where Abigail

Crain lived her whole life; it is also where she died. In some interpretations,

Abigail is the haunting spirit of the house. Correspondingly, the nursery is the

focal point for supernatural activity in the house. It is where the characters

encounter a cold spot as well as where they believe the demons to reside. In The

Shining, it is hotel room 237 that bears significance. The family is warned of its

power; supposedly a tragic and terrible event occurred in the room to give it that

strength. A feeling of terror surrounds the room so that when Danny first passes

the door and, in an act of violation, attempts to enter, the audience is filled with a

fear based on the prohibition. In The Exorcist we find that frightening events

corresponding to the attic, a tabooed space. In Session 9, the most frightening

event occurs in the basement and catacombs justifiably because of the darkness

as well as because of the danger prescribed to that area:

Danger lies in transitional states, simply because transition is neither onestate nor the next, it is indefinable. The person who must pass from one toanother is himself in danger and emanates danger to others. The dangeris controlled by ritual that precisely separates him from his old status,segregates him for a time and then publicly declares his entry to his newstatus.33

Danger may be perceived in these films as existing in a liminal area such as the

basement because these places resonate a profound mysterious power. They

are lesser known, perhaps therefore less knowable. The characters fear

transitional states because of the power attached to it. Likewise, the basement in

The Amityville Horror resonates such evil. The pool of blood encased in the

cornerstone of the structure can be interpreted as a fall back to ritualistic cults

where the foundation of a residence needed to be consecrated. The ritual of

consecration involved blood and sacrifice: strangely similar to the contemporary

fear played on concerning devil worship.

In ritual experience, the construction of the foundation of the building

requires ritual elements. The foundation of a structure was thought of as the

transition between the fertile, empowered earth and the power endowed to the

building by its maker: “The sacredness of the threshold-stone of a building pivots

on its position as a foundation stone. Hence the foundation stone of any house,

or other structure was sacred as the threshold of the building.”34 Since the ground

is equally, if not more spiritually powerful than the building, the stones of the

foundation direct the power between the two. Between the sacred ground and

the sacred structure lies the sacred stoned of the foundation. As a transitional

element, the foundation stones possess a threshold-like quality. Additionally,

primitive religions believed in ritual sacrifices to sanctify the ground and the new

structure:

The foundation-stone of a new building is, in a sense, the threshold of thatstructure. Hence, to lay the foundations in blood is to proffer blood at thethreshold…Apparently the earlier sacrifices were of human beings. Laterthey were of animals substituted for persons. The idea seems to havebeen that he who covenanted by blood with God, or with the gods, whenhis house, or his city, was built, was guarded.35

The manipulation of blood occurs as a symbolic binding of the building and the

person in an attempt to tap a higher power. It is used to relate the subject to the

body, whether human or animal. A ritual blood sacrifice of this kind can be seen

as a way of giving of life to the building, as we have seen that sacred space is

often endower with a life force. Since the new structure, built on apparently

sacred ground, is religious in essence, the sacred man needs permission to

construct a world pillar, a portal to the gods.

Movie Monsters and Fear of the Unknown

The most alluring quality of the horror film is its obsession with the

unknown. Our fears lie in the things and the places we are least familiar with.

Creepy crawly things, dark and mysterious things or growling and fierce things

that could cause us harm serve as the main focus of our fears. What one rarely

ask when he or she is presented by a threat is, why am I afraid of this? What

seems to be the most logical solution is that we are afraid of what threatens our

person, our body, or our individual well-being. We see threat in what we are not;

we fear the other. The fear felt at an outside force can be easily mystified when

the force is unknowable and foreign. When there is no middle ground, there can

be no dialogue and no empathy. Robin Wood proposes “a simple and basic

formula for the horror film: normality is threatened by the monster”36 The monster,

the fearful enemy presented in many horror films, is characterized as being

anomalous, impure or dirty, and unknown or unknowable. These attributes set it

apart from the “us” that is society.

Movie monsters often appear as anomalous beings; they defy social and

cultural rules. They are liminal because they live outside accepted social

standards, yet not belonging to a known peripheral world: “The anomalous nature

of these beings [horror movie monsters] is what makes them disturbing,

distressing and disgusting. They are violations of our ways of classifying things

and such frustrations of a world-picture are bound to be disturbing.”37 These

monsters epitomize fear because of their boundary crossing. Since they are

liminal beings they not only defy our logic but also defy definition because of their

placement without the societal boundaries.

The monster of the horror film may serve to represent not only the terrors

of man, but man himself. The evil and the fear in these films often correlates to a

well known issue or human characteristic: “The [horror] genre serves as a

channel releasing the bestiality concealed within its users…The attraction of

horror derives from its appeal to the ‘beast’ concealed within the superficially

civilized human.”38 Horror films often function as social commentary, mixing their

themes allegorically under fantastical guises. What they often try to say is that

the darkest parts of the world, the most feared and the most fearsome, are the

ones closest to us; what we fear is ourselves, our own weaknesses and our own

faults.

Horror movie monsters, being liminal, are also related to dirt in Mary

Douglas’ sense of the word. Douglas approaches dirt and cleanliness from a

cultural perspective, juxtaposing it with order and form. Monsters can be

associated with dirt, then, because they exude danger:

As we know it, dirt is essentially disorder. There is no such thing asabsolute dirt: it exists in the eye of the beholder. If we shun, it is notbecause of craven fear, still less dread or holy terror. Nor do our ideasabout disease account for the range of our behavior in cleaning oravoiding dirt. Dirt offends against order. Eliminating it is not a negativemovement, but a positive effort to organize the universe.39

Monsters relate to dirt as far as “normality” is concerned. Since uncleanliness is

not desirable, in fact feared or despised in many cultures, it can be associated

with the other. Dirt and cleanliness are not absolute opposites. They have a

delicately balanced partnership; without a status quo, there would be no “other.”

Likewise, without a stable center, society would have no demon. The demon

arises once a society has reached a level of equilibrium and a self-awareness of

its own perfection.

In supernatural horror the monster is, most importantly, unknown. Whether

its origins, intentions, physical appearance, or identity are in question, this is

what inspires to most fear. There is always something about the monster to make

it mysterious and dangerous. Likewise, the story of the horror film is wrought with

mystery and fascination with the unknown:

All narratives might be thought to involve the desire to know – the desireto know at least the outcome of the interaction of forces made salient tothe plot. However, the horror fiction is a special variation on this generalnarrative motivation, because it has at the center of it something which isgiven as in principle unknowable – something which, ex hypothesi, cannot,given the structure of our conceptual scheme, exist and that cannot havethe properties it has.40

We are led down dark passages, into cellars, or into the dark woods where who

knows what might be waiting. The suspense lies in the fact that anything (relying

on the creativity and visual acuity of the filmmakers) could be waiting there to meet

us. When the audience wishes to know more, waiting for that shed of light to fall on

the monster’s face, they will get drawn into the story, into the characters, into the

atmosphere, and down whatever paths the filmmakers wish to tread in order to

learn the secrets of the unknown. Contrasted with a film like A Nightmare on Elm

Street, where Freddy poses as a direct adversary waving his spiked fingers at

sleeping teenagers, the monsters of supernatural horror film lie hidden.

The most effective horror films are, in fact, the ones that show the least.

When an audience is presented outright with the terror they are to fear, when that

terror is presented in full view and in full light, it becomes so specific that the film

must hold to that specificity. The monster becomes finite. An ambiguity, it seems,

is the greatest power of horror. The answer: leave it in the audience’s hands, to

their imaginations:

Movies and novels by their very nature cannot deliver something withwhich human consciousness cannot cope, while the most horrible thingthe author or the special effects man can whomp up can never matchwhat lies beyond the threshold of our imaginations…Seen, it becomesfinite, no longer terrifying, a point on a scale of merely horrifying thingsand events. And any point on that scale is well beyond what we canimagine.41

Robert Wise’s The Haunting, for example, shows nothing in the way of ghosts or

monsters. Everything shown in the film exists in our knowable plane. We are

shown hints, clues to the existence of a nightmare in the writing on the walls, the

“cold spots,” and the warnings given by characters in tune with the terror

surrounding Hill House. The most effective moment in the film occurs when the

demon of the house attempts to reach through a door: “The door does indeed

bulge and there is without questions, something on the other side…But [director]

Wise resists the temptation to show us what it is on the other side. He

deliberately chooses not to open the door.”42 While the aliens in Alien hide in the

dark, the ghosts of The Haunting hide behind the door to the study, symbolically

the door to the imagination. The conventional film method of “show, don’t tell”

must be interpreted differently in the case of horror. We may imagine whatever

we like to be behind that door. It will become real if our imaginations succumb.

The suspense, the agony, and the utmost attention remain in the viewer as long

as that door is never unlocked.

Conclusion: Why Do We Watch?

Supernatural horror films allow their viewers to safely approach their fears

just as ritual rites of passage allow novices to safely encounter divinity to acquire

sacred knowledge. As opposed to ritual, which uses symbolically performed

physical tortures, supernatural horror films employ a method of psychological

torture. But wait a minute. Why would you want to be psychologically tortured in

the first place?

Why sit in the dark to stare at a flickering screen? Films have the unique

ability to open up avenues of thought and perception. The suspension of disbelief

and the persistence of vision work together to allow the eye to accept the still

pictures as a moving one. In the darkened theater, we perceive the movie as a

reality. The audience empathizes with the hero. The audience participates in his

journey. Witnessing the experiences of a character in whatever situation or

circumstance will be different from living your own life. By the end of the film,

ideally, the audience member achieves a revelation.

Narrative films offer perspective on the world by presenting an imaginary

person living his or her imaginary life, but that person’s life will necessarily be

different from anything you know. There must, of course, be a degree of

similarity. Genres such as fantasy and science fiction bend the limits of reality but

not necessarily the limits of known experience. Every genre has its own specific

way of looking at the world. Offering new perspectives, new angles, new hidden

worlds, narrative film shows its viewers that the world is not as familiar as they

once thought. Through vicarious experience, a film welcomes its viewers to

consider its perspective.

In the case of supernatural horror, the hero’s journey is filled with assault

and torture. Though a regiment of psychological battery, the audience follows the

hero as his mind bends and twists to the wishes of the paranormal assailant.

Why do we put up with it? Why watch? To learn. To grow. To understand. To

change.

1 Gillian Bennett, Traditions of Belief (London: Penguin, 1987), 149.

2 For example, Christopher Vogler’s screenwriting technique relies heavily on JosephCampbell’s initiation model. See The Writer’s Journey (Studio City, CA: M. Wiese Productions,1998).

3 Victor Turner, “Betwixt and Between: the Liminal Period in Rites de Passage,” in Reader inComparative Religion, eds. William Lessa and Evon Vogt (NY: Harper & Row, 1975), 237.

4 Dale Bailey, American Nightmares: The Haunted House Formula in American PopularFiction (Bowling Green, OH: Bowling Green State University Popular Press, 1999), 56.

5 Mircea Eliade, Rites and Symbols of Initiation, trans. William Trask (NY: Harper and Row,1965), 19.

6 Turner, “Betwixt and Between,” 237.

7 Dag Oistein Endsjo, “To Lock Up Eleusis: A Question of Liminal Space,” Numen 40(October 2000): 354.

8 Endsjo, 358.

9 See Arnold Van Gennep, The Rites of Passage (Chicago: University of Chicago Press,1960), 26-40.


11 Eliade, Rites and Symbols of Initiation, 31.




15 Mary Douglas, Purity and Danger (NY: Frederick A. Praeger Publishers, 1966), 94.

16 See Eliade, Rites and Symbols of Initiation, 91, for parallel structural analysis.


18 Frank Thompson, “Video Classics: Vampyr,” American Film15 (March 1990): 68-9.

19 Douglas, Purity and Danger, 85.


21 Andrew Tudor, “Why Horror,” in Horror, the Film Reader, ed. Mark Jancovich (NY:Routledge, 2001), 52.

22 Bailey, American Nightmares, 50.

23 Bennett, Traditions of Belief, 33-4.

24 David Hufford, “Beings Without Bodies,” in Out of the Ordinary, ed. Barbara Walker (Logan,UT: Utah State University Press, 1995), 15.

25. Sigmund Freud, “The Uncanny,” in Studies in Parapsychology, ed. Philip Rieff (NY: CollierBooks, 1963), 42.

26 Freud, “The Uncanny,” 46.


28 S. S. Prawer, Caligari’s Children (NY: Da Capo Press, 1980), 76.


30 Bailey, American Nightmares, 57-8.

31 Pam Keesey, “The Haunting and the Power of Suggestion,” in Horror Film Reader, eds.Alain Silver and James Ursini (NY: Limelight Editions), 314.

32 Prawer, Caligari’s Children, 76.


34 Henry Clay Trumbull, The Threshold Covenant (NY: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1896), 22.

35 Trumbull, The Threshold Covenant, 46.

36 Robin Wood, “The American Nightmare: Horror in the 70’s,” in Horror, the Film Reader, ed.Mark Jancovich (NY: Routledge, 2001), 175.

37 Noel Carroll, “Why Horror,” in Horror, the Film Reader, ed. Mark Jancovich (NY: Routledge,2001), 39.

38 Tudor, 48.


40 Carroll, 35.

41 W.H. Rockett, “The Door Ajar: Structure and Convention in Horror Films,” Journal ofPopular Film and Television 10 (Fall 1982): 132.

42 Keesey, 168.

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Trumbull, Henry Clay. The Threshold Covenant. NY: CharlesScribner’s Sons, 1896.

Tudor, Andrew. “Why Horror.” In Horror, The Film Reader, ed. MarkJancovich, 47-56. NY: Routledge, 2001.

Turner, Victor. “Betwixt and Between: The Liminal Period in Rites dePassage.” In Reader in Comparative Religion, eds. WilliamLessa and Evon Vogt, 234-242. NY: Harper & Row, 1979.

Van der Leeuw, G. Religion in Essence and Manifestation. Translatedby J. E. Turner. NY: Harper & Row, 1963.

Van Gennep, Arnold. The Rites of Passage. Chicago: University ofChicago Press, 1960.

Vogler, Christopher. The Writer’s Journey: Mythic Structure forWriters. Studio City, CA: M. Wiese Productions, 1998.

Wood, Robin. “The American Nightmare: Horror in the 70’s.” InHorror, the Film Reader, ed. Mark Jancovich, 25-32. NY:Routledge, 2001.

Filmography:

Alien. Dir. Ridley Scott. Perf. Sigorney Weaver. 20th CenturyFox,1979.

Nightmare on Elm Street. Dir. Wes Craven. New Line Cinema, 1984.Session 9. Dir. Brad Anderson. October Films, 2001.The Amityville Horror. Stuart Rosenberg. Professional Films, 1979.The Blair Witch Project. Dir.Eduardo Sanchez/ David Myrick. Haxan

Films, 1999.The Exorcist. Dir. William Friedkin. Perf. Ellen Burstyn. Warner

Bros., 1973.The Haunting. Robert Wise. MGM, 1963.The Others. Alejandro Amenabar, Perf. Nicole Kidman. Miramax,

2001.The Shining. Stanley Kubrick, Perf. Jack Nicholson, Shelley Duvall.

Warner Bros., 1980.Vampyr. Dir. Carl Dreyer. Tobis Filmkunst, 1932.

Documents

Methods of Revelation