Paranormal Activity, directed by Oren Peli

Paranormal Activity (2009)

Katie Featherston, Micah Sloat

Directed by Oren Peli

RT: 1:26:00

In 1999, a film was released nationwide with the following notice at the beginning

In October of 1994 three student filmmakers disappeared in the woods near Burkittsville, Maryland while shooting a documentary… A year later their footage was found.

Of course, this comes from the love-it-or-hate-it hit, The Blair Witch Project. Shot on a budget of about $35,000, it went on to rake in nearly a quarter billion at the box office. It was part ghost story, part witch hunt, part documentary. At the time, it presented an original concept: found footage. By no means was this the first time such a technique was used, as it was also used in 1980’s Cannibal Holocaust (the shooting title for that film was Green Inferno, which was the release title of Eli Roth’s own cannibal film), but it did bring it to the mainstream in a fun new way. As a writer, I’d be remiss if I didn’t note that it is similar to epistolary novels such as Frankenstein.

Ten years later, the film Paranormal Activity debuted with a similar premise. It wasn’t the first since 1999, but it was arguably the scariest since Blair Witch.

What worked in the new film is what worked in the Blair Witch: the unseen. We spend the bulk of the movie as clueless as the actors as to what is happening. Because of the style it’s shot in, we aren’t privy to anything that they (ultimately) won’t be privy to. I say “ultimately” because at night, when they’re asleep, we get to watch. Like voyeurs on the 20^th floor looking down on somebody about to be mugged, all we can do is scream for them to look out. Of course, they can’t hear us.

Paranormal Activity takes advantage of both the jump scare and a build-up in suspense. It can’t really be called a slow-burn, because the first scares happen on “Night 1,” the first night of available footage.

Quick background if you haven’t seen the movie: Katie and Micah are living in a suburban San Diego home. She is an English student, and he is a day trader. They have been together about three years, but have only recently moved in together. It wasn’t until they began living together that Micah discovered Katie had been “haunted” her entire life by an unknown entity. To capture evidence, he buys a video camera and…

We get to see multiple nights following his camera purchase, each one more frightening than the last. Of course, Micah wants to capture the best footage possible, so he tries to provoke the entity through a Ouija board… And succeeds!

On Night 21, three weeks since buying the camera, the entity finally gets to Katie and Micah.

It’s no secret I’m not a fan of found footage films, that they are gimmicky at best and annoying (motion sickness anybody?) at worse. However, in Paranormal Activity it works. It harkens to the many ghost hunting shows we see on TV now, but does so in a low-tech way. Yes, we get the EVP and some strange footage, but we don’t get spirit boxes and infrared. It doesn’t try to shove it in our face that it’s going for “found footage,” or that it’s like any other ghost hunt. It’s a raw take on the original ghost story, and free of soundtracks and over-production, it makes you feel like you were a part of it..

What I think makes it work, is that it’s a simple telling of a simple story. It relies not on special effects or great plotting, but teases out the viewer’s own fears of the supernatural. Simply, it allows the audience to be haunted without ever dealing with their own ghost.

Grave's End, by Elaine Mercado, R.N.

I'm fairly certain that Ms. Mercado included her R.N. designator to assure us that she is an intelligent woman of science. A medical professional and not a wingnut. That's fine, I'm okay with it. Wingnut or not, this entry is about the book, and not Ms. Mercado's credentials.

Written less as a novel, and more like a memoir, Grave's End tells the tale of Elaine Mercado, her daughters Christine and Karin, and for a time, her ex-husband Nameless, as they live out their lives in a house that's desperately trying to get their attention.

They move in in 1985, nearly two years after buying the place. Why? Because there's a grumpy old man and his doe-eyed wife living in the basement. I just want to prepare you now, Elaine and her family are about the slowest moving group of people on the planet. It requires many years of a problem to move them to take any sort of action. You'll see.

Let’s take a look at that year again. 1985. Remember it. Write it down on a piece of paper, fold it up nice and tight, and tuck it in your front pocket. Ready?

From the start, they experienced nearly every haunting phenomenon in popular culture today. It’s like watching an entire season of Ghost Adventures in one book. And it takes like 12 years to watch it. From orbs to whispers, to paralyzing dreams. We see full body apparitions, mists and shadow creatures. There are ominous forces focusing on the basement and she and her two daughters are constantly under “attack” by the entities in the house. This starts from Day 1. I take that back; her youngest daughter Christine isn’t subjected to one-on-one haunting. She only experiences the hauntings if her mom or sister are around.

It takes Elaine 12 years to finally get a medium or paranormal psychic to come visit. I get that this took place before Al Gore invented the Internet, but she draws everything out like a neurotic. She fears any kind of judgement or confrontation… Unless that confrontation is getting molested in the middle of the night by a ghost. She seems totally cool with that. I mean, why else would she let go on for so long? Elaine sets women’s rights back to pre-suffrage times, and I really dislike her for that. I know it’s not fiction, but a strong lead is important to any story. Imagine if Elliot spent two hours locked in his room with E.T., hand-wringing and tisk-tisking himself for not being stronger? You’d never watch that move. Elaine is about the worse protagonist I’ve ever encountered in a book. I didn’t want her to win, I just wanted her to do something!

 For example, she throws a Halloween party. This is great! She can show off her ghosts ala the Deetz’s. But, no. The one friend who senses and sees something, swears she’ll never come back. So what does Elaine do? She completely avoids the topic with her for the rest of the time they worked together. Why, Elaine? Why would you stop talking to the one person who might be able to tell you what’s going on? Oh, you don’t want to risk losing her as a friend. Well, Elaine, you have to break a few ghost eggs to make a ghost omelet.

 Now, keep in mind that was about 10 years after moving in. That’s right. It took 10 years for help to arrive, unannounced, and Elaine clammed up.

 The next year she asked her brother for help, and it took him another year to find a medium and a parapsychologist. And they cleansed the house in about an hour.

The book itself is little more than an encyclopedia of paranormal phenomena, and shouldn’t be read for entertainment value. If you’re very interested in haunted houses, it’s a decent read. Ms. Mercado could have benefitted from a – pardon the pun – ghost writer in this case. There’s are a lot emotional events in the book, but Mercado glazes over them in a matter-of-fact way.

Except for her fear of being alone. That she dwells on for 12 years.

On Writing Horror, from the Horror Writers Association

About ten years ago my job sent me to a Microsoft Excel course. It was only two days long, but it was supposed to teach me about the basics of working with Microsoft’s most hated program (right after Access). In fact, it was so basic, the entirety of the first day was dedicated to the three icons in the upper right hand corner of the screen.

I returned to work the next day and told them I had better things to do with my time.

That’s not necessarily my feelings regarding On Writing Horror, which was published by Writer’s Digest Books and written by members of the Horror Writers Association. But, the book doesn’t necessarily touch on any groundbreaking topics or provide completely new information that we wouldn’t expect to see from myriad other craft books.

However, I found the following sections enjoyable, in that they provided unique insight into the craft of writing horror, vice generic advice about the craft of writing.

Keep it Moving, Maniacs: Writing Action Scenes in Horror Fiction, Jay R. Bonansinga.  In this section, Bonansinga puts into words what most readers don’t really notice, but benefit hugely from: the ramp up in suspense and action during a horror novel. Establishing rhythm (Bonansinga, 96), made me feel liberated in my style of writing. What I once did to emulate, I began to do because I saw the value, and reading this section really solidified my feelings on the issue. Rhythm can draw the reader deeper into the story, the dialogue, the narrative and bring him closer to the precipice of whatever resolution is coming and –

Then stop.

It’s like edging, but in a literary sense.

Splat Goes the Hero: Visceral Horror, Jack Ketchum. This was truly a treat in a craft book: advice from one of the masters. A lot of horror writers today shy away from gore for the sake of gore. This is a good thing. But, sometimes the gore is necessary to move the story along, or to shock or move the reader. Ketchum talks about that fine line between honesty and exploitation (Ketchum, 121-122), but the gist of it is, the details are what make us feel the pain. If we’re writing a book about a creature that burrows its way into the soft, pink, fleshy corner of your eye, you need to explain how that feels. But, you should also know how it feels. Ketchum’s section is about the truth of writing, and sometimes… well, sometimes the truth hurts.

Take a Scalpel to Those Tropes, W. D. Gagliani. Another great entry, this essay talks openly about the blending of tropes to make them new. Gagliani uses the Wolf Man as an example, but we see these familiar tropes being used in new ways almost every day. The CW show Supernatural is famous for taking what we know and giving them a slight twist to add newness to them. And when it decides to create its own new monster (Jefferson Starships – why? “Because they're horrible and impossible to kill”), it takes elements of existing monsters. Creating a new creature today almost invariably requires us to rehash what already exists. But, Gagliani explains that we can do it without trying to be sneaky about it.

A terrifying, and wholly saddening section was dedicated to directing me toward the small press for “classics and new out-on-or-over-the-edge genre releases.” (Everson, 223). This sounds wonderful! Except, it does little more than point the reader to publishers to buy more books, as many of the ones listed take on few, if any, new talents. 

Beyond those sections, the book goes on to talk about screenplay writing, radio (audio theater) and research. Which is fine, if you suddenly woke up one morning and thought, I want to write!

I want to learn how to play the bagpipes, but I haven’t a clue where to start. A book called On Playing the Bagpipes would be fantastic for me. As a writer, the basics presented in On Writing Horror don’t offer any new tricks, secrets or insights into the business. However, it does provide the new writer an opportunity to hear directly from their favorites on what makes them tick. Overall, this book is tailored toward the novice writer, but there are plenty of other craft books out there for the intermediate writer that is prepared to take their craft to the next level.

I wouldn’t recommend this book to anybody in an advanced course of study like an MFA, but I will definitely hand my copy down to the first person who tells me they’re interested in learning what it takes to put together a decent story.

The Amityville Horror by Jay Anson

 "In December 1975, the Lutz family moved into their new home on suburban Long Island. Twenty-eight days later, the entire Lutz family fled in terror."

So reads the back of Jay Anson’s Amityville Horror, the classic “true story” of benevolent spirits terrorizing a young family. So terrifying and dark were the powers in that house, even the local diocese and priests were afraid to visit the house… 112 Ocean Avenue.

This review will be a little different than past reviews, because Amityville Horror is billed as non-fiction. The characters in the book are true, and the DeFeo murders are also true. There is also a house at 112 Ocean Avenue (Now 108 Ocean Avenue to hide from looky-loos and tourists… you know, because tourists are dumb), and it is as described in the book and on the book/movie covers: A Dutch Colonial.

The haunting that occurred to the Lutz’s after they moved in? That has been debated, and mostly refuted by the local diocese, William Weber (Ronald “Butch” DeFeo’s defense attorney), and convicted murderer Ronnie DeFeo himself.

Everybody knows the story of the Amityville Horror, either through the book or the original film and the TWELVE additional films, that include sequels and remakes. But what is the book if not non-fiction, as claimed by so many?

It’s God-awful. If we look at the book as a work of fiction, it is poorly written with awful character development. Jay Anson, a documentary writer who hadn’t written a novel until Amityville, was extremely brilliant when it came to writing the book. He acquired the book rights before writing and publishing, and was able to embellish slightly the haunting the Lutz’s experienced. But, he wasn’t a very good novelist, and his book reads more like the transcript of a campfire story, replete with unnecessary exclamation points and zero creative prose. Without the “true story” tagline, Amityville Horror could be the worst novel ever written. In fact, it’s opening line is a fine contender for the Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest: “George and Kathy Lutz moved into 112 Ocean Avenue on December 18. Twenty-eight days later, they fled in terror.”

But, before I abandon it there and move on, let’s look at the whole package. It was sold as a true story, and the simple writing of Jay Anson goes a long way toward selling it. If you look at Anson’s other work, (he followed up Amityville with the novel 666) you see he is capable of creativity, and not just fact regurgitation. But really, that’s all Amityville Horror is.

Is it by design? Is there genius in the way Anson marketed the book? After all, he was a documentary writer, so he knew the power of non-fiction. If he could harness the demonic horror that was popular during that time (The Exorcist – 1971, Rosemary’s Baby – 1967). Books of that ilk were also becoming big-money movies.

So here’s what I’m going to do: I’m going to give Anson the benefit of the doubt: He set out to create a raw, realistic story of Satanic haunting. In that regard, he succeeded. Its rawness and lack of creativity definitely lend an air of authenticity, much as The Blair Witch Project (1999) did with movies.

Fortunately, Amityville Horror didn’t create its own literary sub-genre like Blair Witch did with the “found footage” style of horror we see in film.

Here’s what I did enjoy about the book: Its simple writing, paired with its low page count, resulted in a great read during a morning-time power outage courtesy of the Pacific Northwest weather.

Is Amityville Horror fact, fiction, good, bad? I don’t know! If it’s fiction, it’s bad. If it’s fact, it “is what it is.”

The Others, written and directed by Alejandro Amenabar

The Others (2001)

Nicole Kidman, Christopher Eccleston
RT: 1:44:00



This is the first movie review/analysis for my Readings in the Genre (RIG) course. Because of the theme, Hauntings, I thought I knew what I was getting in to.

I was fortunate enough to have never seen this movie before, so watching it for the class was a new experience. I didn't go into it with preconceived notions about what the story is, or what it should be, or how it should end.

*Warning: There will be spoilers ahead.

 The Others follows the story of Grace Stewart (Kidman), and her two children, Ann and Nicolas. Grace and her children live in self-imposed exile in Jersey (Old one not New), following WWII. The exile stems from Ann and Nicolas's extreme photosensitivity, resulting in a penchant for heavy curtains. Amazon and Netflix were invented for this family. Grace's husband (Eccleston), went missing during the war, and they live with the hope he will return some day.

The movie begins with the arrival of three applicants for the recently vacant house staff positions. The elder Bertha Mills, ancient Mr. Tuttle, and young mute Lydia are immediately hired because they fit the criteria of showing up.

Upon their arrival, a whole slew of mysterious events begin to take place, leading Grace to believe the house is haunted. Strangely enough, she never stops to think it might be the new staff she hired, despite their own admission that they used to work in the house a long time ago.

Finally, fed up with the hauntings, Grace tries to run into town to get help, but is met in the woods by her long-missing husband (Eccleston)! He seems distant, and after a day says it’s time to leave. He was just there to say goodbye. Was he another ghost? Did he show up just to give his kids false hope their daddy would still be around? Did he cross the boundaries of death itself for one last booty call?

Long story short, because I want to get in some analysis vice plot regurgitation: The Stewarts are recently deceased, following Grace’s mental breakdown in which she suffocates her two kids and somehow kills herself with a shotgun that is arguably longer than she is tall. And the ghosts, the Others? Those would be the new living people who just bought the house. So what this movie did, in essence, is flip the traditional ghost story and tell it from the point of view of the ghosts (just not as hilariously as Beetlejuice did).

This movie, with its decidedly Shyamalanian twist ending, hit the theaters a month before 9/11, and is one of the first horror movies of the new millennium. It’s use of atmosphere and its characters to ramp of the horror was a nice departure from the 90s teen horror movies.

Idealistically, it can be likened to Henry James’s 1898 book, A Turn of the Screw. However, with the exception of some similarities in characters, and maybe a rough interpretation by writer/director Alejandro Amenabar of the meaning of the story, the two have little in common.

There are points in the story that are difficult to understand why they are there. For instance, the return of her husband for a day, (Eccleston's role in this movie is only slightly shorter than his turn as The Doctor), and then he disappeared, did nothing for me. It wasn’t a great goodbye moment for me, and served no real reason. In fact, Grace seemed to get over his second disappearance rather quickly. The only thing I can point to, and I’ll choose to believe this so it makes sense, is that the house and surrounding fog manifested her husband to keep her on the property. Unfortunately, it doesn’t explain why she got over his leaving again so quickly.

The movie does a good job at the end explaining how the living “haunted” the ghosts, and how the juxtaposition of the two roles could be executed and leave no clues behind.

In the end, it is a simple ghost story about a haunted house. There isn’t really anything new in the story-telling or movie plot until the last five minutes. And even then, it seems the movie should end with "Shake Senora,” as the ghosts come to terms with their fate and learn that haunting can be fun!

The Shining by Stephen King

When people ask me who my favorite writer is, I feel a bit silly and vanilla for answering, "Stephen King." I mean, I'm a horror writer, and I should be bending over backwards to espouse the contributions of little-known writers to the genre. When people ask me who my favorite writer is, I feel like an amateur, a rube, a newbie to the world of horror.

But then I go back and re-read something I read as I kid, something from King's early days, and I remember: He's my favorite because he's so damn good! I'm not a hipster trying to define myself through false-idolization, with my awesome lumberjack beard contrasting stylishly with my Chuck Taylors (full disclosure: I do not have a beard, but I have Chucks).

So, it was with eager anticipation that I bid my time throughout this RIG until it was time to read the Shining. Excitement grew with each passing novel, and I checked them off like so many chores. My reward, halfway through, would be the modern masterpiece that is The Shining. And I wasn't disappointed. When I read it for the first time, probably 25 years ago, the themes presented went over my 11-year old head. Alcoholism, child abuse, the fact that failure was not only a part of life, but presented the bulk of it.

I was young. I was idealistic. I needed the money. (Currency for me at the time was gore, and buckets of it... I mean, what the hell was wrong with me?)

This time around, the book made me profoundly sad (but more on that later).

First, the basics:

The Shining (1977) was King's third book, preceded in publishing by Carrie (1974) and Salem's Lot (1975). It was written while he lived in Boulder, CO, and coincidentally enough takes place near there.

The book is about a young boy... or is it about his father? Possibly the mother. Why the indecision? Because King told the story so perfectly from each's point of view, that pinpointing the exact protagonist is almost impossible. However, it's widely agreed on that the book is about five-year old Danny and his psychic powers dubbed "shining."

But let's talk about it from his father Jack's point of view, because therein is the true horror of the book. Jack is a recovering alcoholic, a mean drunk who inadvertently hurts his little boy in martian (martini)-fueled rage. He gives up the booze, but not before the damage is done to his tenure-track teaching position. Now, out of work and with a deadline looming, he takes any writer's dream job: a low-effort caretaker job in a secluded resort that has closed for the long winter season. In Colorado. With bad roads. And limited communication with the outside world. What could possibly go wrong?

REDRUM.

REDRUM could go wrong. And it does. King uses the setting, the Overlook Hotel, as a backdrop to tell the story of his own alcoholic demons (alcoholism is his demon, not that there are demons that are alcoholics).

The Overlook has a colorful, storied history replete with murders and unnatural deaths. It isn't unlike Hill House, in that it's the building itself that has become the antagonist, and not any single ghost. There’s one thing it wants, and it’s Danny. But to get to him, through the boy’s strength with the Force Shining, it has to go through Dad. Jack’s weakness is his alcoholism and the hotel uses it to slowly tear down Danny’s defenses. Along for the ride is his mom, Wendy, who’s only weakness is her love for her husband. It’s almost a naïve love, and a type that probably wouldn’t get much sympathy with today’s crowd.

So, over the course of a few months, the hotel whittles down both Jack and Danny, until it all comes to a crescendo at the end.

But let’s talk about what makes me sad.

King’s free-form style of writing is often emulated, but never duplicated. It’s a style of writing that leaves the reader both breathless, but so deeply attached to the characters. They are real. They don’t have single sentence feelings. They aren’t Neapolitan with oddly perfect delineations of flavor. They’re complex, with overlapping flavors. They are Moose Tracks, or Rocky Road. And like Rocky Road, they’re nuts. King puts that on the page like no other (especially in his early work when I would argue he was at the top of his game), and when he does it so sublimely as he does in the Shining, even the most damaged character becomes our hero.

In this story, our hero fails. He succumbs. But before all that, he loves his little boy more than booze, more than his wife, and more than himself. And his little boy loves him and King gets that across in a way that is real and deep. If you have a little boy, you see yourself and your son in these roles. When Jack fails, you fail. When Danny loses a father, you are lost to your son. You can feel the feels, as the kids say, and they don’t feel good.

Yes, in the penultimate moment of the story, a part of me died because a part of Danny died.

My name is Chad V. Pritt, and Stephen King is my favorite writer.