3 Disturbing Horror Films Where Art and Obsession Collide
Art and love are not mutually exclusive. An artist’s work is a labor of love, no matter if it’s composed of corpses or the sound of mutilation. That’s what makes this subset of horror films so alluring to watch. I could share a handful of cliché quotes about love and its power. Consider this the proof of the pudding, though. Love isn’t always the act of selflessness that your favorite 2000s romance depicts. It can be just as selfish and destructive. But what all three of these protagonists have in common is the love they share for their art form. The descent of their madness is tantalizing. They leave a trail of blood in their wake, but they’re content with their actions for the sake of their passion.
The thriller genre demonstrates how passion becomes an obsession: a passion for love, self, or materialism. My personal favorite, erotic thrillers, are fueled by sensuality and possession. Fatal Attraction has the genre-generic mad woman who falls off the saddle after a man ends their love affair. It’s every man’s nightmare, apparently. Sharon Stone in Basic Instinct is the true final boss of misogynistic irrational fears. She drives an ice pick into every man’s heart simply for the love of the game. Nonetheless, the focus is more often on the object of their obsession rather than their descent into madness. Horror flips the coin and shows us the same story through a dreadful lens, though.
Peeping Tom (dir. Michael Powell)
Despite critics debating its place within the horror genre, it’s still considered one of the earliest slashers, predating Halloween (1978). It stars Mark Boehm as Mark Lewis, who films his victims whilst murdering them to record their faces and expressions. His motivation is rooted in his obsession with fear and voyeurism: a trauma-turned-fascination instilled by his father. These two themes often intertwine in narratives like this and slashers as a whole.
When Helen is introduced, though, he tries to keep his urges contained. He recognizes how the convergence of his passion for her and his passion for his camera can be catastrophic, hence why he tries to keep them separate. She is his only exception, and it’s apparent when he shows no sexual attraction to her. That’s not to say the sensuality, though violent, isn’t identifiable. Like every slasher, their weapon of choice takes on a phallic symbolism to represent a more deviant sexuality. He isn’t impassioned by sex or even love, though. His traumatic bond with his father compels him to take on his father’s life’s work. And when Mark meets his self-inflicted demise, you can hear his father say, “good boy,” making it more clear that his art was a masquerade for their disconnection.
The House That Jack Built (dir. Lars von Trier)
The exploration of creation and destruction in The House That Jack Built presents no better argument for the existence of obsession in horror. Jack, played by Matt Dillon, had a dream of being an architect, and the film follows him in pursuit of building the perfect house. His passion for murder, often referred to as his craft, trumped his original goals. The film almost stands as a self-inflicted wound for a horror director like von Trier. However, the character of Virgil—or Verge—exists to challenge Jack’s vision of art: can art exist without love?
Witnessing the lengths that Jack goes through in order to achieve his “art”, the metaphor becomes clearer. Artists must take risks, and those risks can consume you if ego stands in the way. Jack justifies his art in a way that humanizes his actions. Though Verge criticizes him for the collateral and moral damage he’s caused, his pursuit of perfection only emboldens him.
Considering von Trier’s own artistic risks and the flak they’ve caused, this story becomes all the more personal.
Sound of Violence (dir. Alex Noyer)
This giallo-esque slasher is another artistic pursuit involving a body count. Alexis (played by Jasmin Savoy-Brown) experienced a traumatic accident in her early childhood that left her deaf. Trying to save her mother from her father’s abuse, she drives a hammer into his head. The sound of his pain triggers a burst of visual and auditory synesthesia in Alexis. When we meet Alexis again, she’s in college and impassioned by a sonic art project involving her neurological condition. Her first test subject is a dominatrix with her submissive, which leaves her unsatisfied after the sub taps out. May the descent to madness begin.
What stands out about this film compared to the previous two is the female protagonist. The male protagonists mentioned before acted out of violence because they wanted to. It was always in their plan. Though it wasn’t a part of Alexis’, she soon accepts it’s a worthy risk for the sake of her art. The ending of the film could even stand to challenge Verge’s question to Jack regarding art and love. For her final act, she makes an installation out of her roommate and love interest, Maria. After spending the whole movie pining over her, this is how Alexis chooses to let her go. And that was her final act of love.
When the subject of the film is an artist, the stakes are heightened as human life becomes disposable for the sake of art. Viewers witness, through a dreadful lens, the changing tides of passion to obsession in the name of love. Would it be a stretch to say this subset of horror makes the ultimate genre film? Horror’s history of scrutiny and its devaluation in Hollywood created a stigma for horror fans and filmmakers alike. Yet, we have a passion for the genre that is unshakable. No matter how f—ked up the film is, we love watching them and making them. The only difference is: we leave a trail of popcorn in our wake.
Categorized:Editorials
