Carte blanche to Stéphane Dompierre | Fighting horror with horror

This week, we give carte blanche to author and editor Stéphane Dompierre, who offers a reflection on horror films, the sordid side of which is much easier to manage than all the evils of our time.

When I was young, I think movie theaters were pretty lax on PG-13. I saw a ton of horror movies way before I was 13. At the time, there was a doubleheader on Saturday at the Calixa-Lavallée high school hall in Montreal North. One of my sisters dragged me there when she had to look after me. I mainly saw works classified as “mediocre”: cars possessed by Satan, evil boats with jets of blood in the showers, planes disappeared in the Bermuda Triangle. This is my youth.

After a long break, I recently got back into horror cinema with a vengeance. It must be said that works of the genre have abounded in recent years and, in terms of American cinema, once you have eliminated the horrifying superhero films, that’s pretty much all that’s left. The public is there and the reasons for this enthusiasm are obvious: horror in fiction is much easier to manage than horror in real life. And on this side too, it must be said, the offer has never been so abundant.

A film is paused. You can look elsewhere if the scene is too bloody. And then after a while, whether it ends well or badly, the credits appear. It’s over, let’s turn the lights back on.

In the case of climate change, there are many more disasters to come before the end credits roll. It might take more than an hour and a half.

The horror film also gives us an “evil” that is easy to identify and understand. Whether it’s giant radioactive spiders or little telepathic blond children who don’t blink, we know what we’re dealing with. The concept is easier to grasp than climate change, say, and, to choose, it seems much simpler to confront a teenager possessed by Satan than the housing crisis, the shortage of family doctors or even polystyrene, of which we have known about environmental damage for more than 40 years and we still find it everywhere. In real life, crucifixes and holy water don’t solve much. (Sorry to tell you this, Pope Francis.)

The fear generated by horror films even has virtues. Because the danger is contained and will not escape the screen, this control can give us confidence in our ability to face anxiety-provoking situations and help us better manage stress. If calling your grandmother for her birthday is a little anxiety-inducing, it’s always less painful to sing her a little song than to be stuck in a broken down car in the sun during a heatwave while a rabid Saint Bernard is on the prowl. around to tear your guts out.

My passion for horror films helps me put all the troubles of everyday life into perspective.

Yes, I had to get rid of a wasp nest on my patio, but at least I didn’t let in monsters from another world by opening a portal after reading a paragraph in Latin in a book whose cover is made of human skin. Yay! Yes, following an administrative error, my bank decided to block my access to my accounts and my credit card. But at least an evil clown didn’t try to lure me into a sewer and devour my soul. What am I complaining about? When I hear rumbling noises in the basement, it’s the toilet bowl overflowing from heavy rains and not a two-headed monster digesting small children. OK, damn! My day is crap, but it really could have been worse!

After having dealt with the bad news of the day, it takes a bit of relief. Emotionally, it’s exhausting to read about crises of all kinds and feminicides and wars and genocides and the inaction of governments who would rather curb immigration and force women to have babies and return to kitchens because according to them that will solve everything. It releases tension to be able to forget all that for a few hours on a soft sofa with a bag of Fritos.

While Trump celebrates his victory in the American elections, pitiful masculinists proudly display themselves on social networks proclaiming that it is the return of patriarchy, of slavery, and that now, women’s bodies belong to them. Until these poor guys realize that presidential immunity only applies to the president and that Trump is as angry with them as he is with the rest of humanity, I think I’m going to need a little marathon of 24 hours of non-stop horror films.

Hoping that this changes the place of pain because at the moment, I hurt everywhere.

What do you think? Participate in the dialogue