Chapter II: Recurring Nightmares
On Sequels, Diminishing Returns, and Completionism
I was halfway through watching a real two star horror film I knew I wasn’t going to like when I started thinking: Why am I doing this to myself? No-one is making me watch Night Swim (2024). Am I just doing it out of some misplaced sense of obligation? Do I think that, one day, I’m going to complete horror?
That isn’t it though. Or at least, that’s not all of it. One of the attractions of horror is that sense of panning for gold. Of discovery. That one wasn’t so great, but this next scrappy little terror could be. The genre’s low budget, cast of unknowns, and an insatiable fanbase make it an easy low-risk, high-reward pitch to potential investors. As such, it can be something of a training ground for fresh, talented, and original directors with a point of view.
I think there’s a reason I’ve always been drawn to horror, comics and zines. They are all considered low art. With rare exceptions, they are curiosities not worth taking seriously. The canon will allow you an Exorcist, a Maus, a Sniffin’ Glue… but these are the outliers. Rare islands of excellence in an ocean of disposable trash.
It’s why horror, comics and zines attract outsiders, counter-cultural voices and people in marginalised communities. These are the mediums for the weirdos (we are the weirdos, mister). Where you’ll find original ideas, politics, and aesthetics that challenge the prevailing consensus. It’s our secret club. And it’s why a bad review of a horror film is next to meaningless. Until recently, horror has been the black sheep (living deliciously) of cinema. The term “elevated horror” had to be created for reluctant critics, audiences, and awards bodies to justify their admiration for the genre. So why should we pay attention to what the consensus says about a new horror film? What do they know?
And so I stick Night Swim on. Not to complete horror (though, if I’m honest with myself, that’s not NOT a consideration). But to see if there’s something in here everyone else missed. Maybe we’re in the presence of a new Raimi. Maybe there’s a sequence in here that’s so well crafted that it provides that scare I’ve been chasing for so long. Maybe what-if-swimming-pool-evil is good? (It wasn’t. It was fine. Everyone was broadly right on that one.)
The one exception for my undiscerning, omnivorous diet of horror has been their sequels. Horror sequels, more often than not, lose the visionary director that started it all, along with any good cast members, and any remaining sense of fear. Horror conceits don’t thrive under closer examination. Nothing gets scarier the more you explain it. There’s a reason the best horror films are 90 minutes and work best when you can’t see the monster. Mystery is scary. Lore is a manual. It makes the inscrutable quotidian.
I grew up in the 80s when slashers were in their pomp and powering several long-running horror franchises. As Alexandra West points out in her book The 1990s Teen Horror Cycle, these films don’t follow the lives of the surviving final girls. Or, if they do, they often die in the follow-up. No, these franchises care only of the Monster:
"In the 1980s in particular, horror worshipped at the altar of the villain with Freddy Krueger, Michael Myers and Jason Voorhees becoming more iconic and recognisible, and, to some, even more sympathetic than their victims." - Alexandra West
Surviving these films is pointless. You’ll just die in the next one. That always felt cruel and nihilistic to me. Meanwhile, as these stories drag on, the villains become increasingly cartoonish, one dimensional and, ultimately, toothless. If they were ever about anything, that thematic resonance has long been lost and replaced with a relentless pursuit of gnarlier deaths.
Diminishing returns, overblown budgets, hack directors, higher body counts, lower IQs and a paucity of fresh ideas. Creative dead-ends. Creative death. That’s horror sequels.
Or, at least, that was my impression. I didn’t really watch them.
But that seems like a mistake to me now. As with any product of the uneasy alliance between art and commerce, there are often strange and unpredictable results. It can actually be a lot of fun watching writers tie themselves in knots of complicated lore and then untangle the threads in surprising ways. Or see a talented writer/director turn an uninspiring sequel gig into something deeply personal and odd. It can even be true that the prevailing image of a horror franchise is found in a sequel, not the original. Indeed, the iconic hockey mask of Jason Voorhees doesn't even show up until the third part. There are always interesting diamonds to be discovered in the depths of the horror mines and I’ve been ignoring the cave marked “Sequels” for too long.
So, welcome to Grave Offerings Chapter II: Recurring Nightmares!
If you’re new to this newsletter, I started it in October 2023 when I wrote and illustrated a daily essay about my favourite horror films for the entire month (read the archive here or buy the zine collecting the best essays here). The idea was to do something away from the algorithms, bots and rage-bait that makes using social media so joyless these days and return to something that felt like the old internet. This year, I’m reanimating (she's alive. ALIVE!) the format to write about my favourite horror sequels. Though, in an effort to protect my sanity and your inbox, I’ll be doing one every other day.
That will be 16 illustrated essays delivered straight to your inbox throughout October (starting Thursday, October 1st).
I know about half of the 16 films I want to discuss so far and will still be watching and discovering new films as I go - so if you have a recommendation for a horror sequel you think I haven’t seen, feel free to email or message me! You can always follow me on Letterboxd to check what films I’ve seen/not seen.
If you’re reading this but haven’t subscribed to my newsletter, you can do so below (for free) and not miss a post. I won’t be offended if you unsubscribe at the end of October!
Let's all get a few steps closer to completing horror.
