Dying of Laughter: The Intersections of Horror and Comedy
Dani Bethea
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In a recent interview, Jordan Peele made a profound statement about the horror genre: “The difference between comedy and horror is the music.” The music cues, stingers, or scare chords most assuredly do a lot of the heavy lifting in a film to frighten us. But what of the moments of silence or abstract visuals that either make us uproariously cackle or scream with terror? Lest we forget the nervous chuckle that emerges from our throats when our heads and our heart are at war with the atmosphere, monster, or action on screen. There is a symbiotic relationship between horror and comedy that I’ve always been fascinated with because many of the persons who create works of horror are also adept at a myriad of things that wade into comedic territory.
Innumerable making-of documentaries, writer/director commentary tracks, interviews with cast members, and more regularly have a light-hearted atmosphere with a plethora of jokes, pratfalls, and silly antics that would seem to be at odds with the film that’s being made. However, as we well know, many a horror film is absurd and banana peel slips share that unhinged energy. Conversely, many horror films also delve into extremely mature subject matter that requires many of the events offscreen to be less intense and there’s nothing better than a chortle between takes when you’ve been crying or screaming your lungs out.
Speaking of sudden shrieking or snickering, one of my favorite devices in the horror canon is the type that jarringly appears out of nowhere for the character and the audience. A staple in media that has become so commonplace we’ve been primed to expect it. It wrests us out of pleasant dreams into sweat-soaked wakefulness. You guessed it.
The nightmare sequence is one of cinema’s greatest storytelling devices that regularly involves the exploration of a character’s psyche, personal/projected fears, and most importantly showcases a writer/director’s adeptness with the: rubber band. Like its name implies, a rubber band can be pulled until it snaps back towards itself or until the tension exerted upon it causes it to ultimately break. Jordan Peele’s iconic nightmare teacup—sunken place sequence from Get Out (2017) is a perfect example of this rubber band, wherein the audience is given a first-person perspective of everything the character Chris sees.
By situating the events within the mundanity of a suburban home, we are subconsciously on high alert for Chris’s character, especially when the film pivots into a white-knuckled seat squirming experience via the groundskeeper Walter running headlong into the camera at an almost inhuman speed, sharply pivoting and disappearing into the darkness from whence he came.
Many who watched this film sequence expressed a similar queasy bubbling in the stomach that was expelled via nervous giggles once the moment passes. The scene is so surreal that the body is wrestling with a fight-flight response. The eyes are tracking the danger that is getting nearer. The ears are wrestling with the soundtrack that is oscillating louder. This cacophony that’s at war with our senses is one of the most dastardly delicious tools in the filmmakers’ toolkit, and yet we crave the next. Like seasoning or the best condiment, there’s a section of the brain that loves a sprinkling of fear on occasion.
One of the masters of this specific spice blend is Sam Raimi with his cartoonish horror trilogy The Evil Dead. When the deadites emerge they are unsettling to be sure. But, they’re also hilarious with their perpetual smiles, squeaky voices, or growly taunts. The audience and the main character Ash (Bruce Campbell) boomerang away and towards the scares like one of the best Looney Tunes or Tex Avery shorts. I still find it fascinating that Raimi decided to pivot towards a slapstick approach rather than the grave one established in the first film.
Evil Dead 2 shifts from the dark demonic to the dark chaotic as the main character begins to lose his mind in the house—cue the iconic shot above—wherein everything in the haunted shack starts to uproariously laugh with him or at him. Attempting to explain the circus that the second film becomes only makes viewing Army of Darkness, the concession stand of sequels, with its Ray Harryhausen-esque skeleton army homage sequence at the film’s end akin to a melting sundae, drowned in red syrup, and blasted with petty sprinkles. Trust me, if you haven’t already, the entire trilogy has to be seen to be semi-believed.
This mild defanging of a horror fixture to cope with the abject discomfort of their first appearance (or so the franchise doesn’t run out of steam) reminds me of what happened to most of the iconic horror franchises of the 80s and 90s. The heavyweight franchises like Halloween, Friday the 13th, Nightmare on Elm Street, Child’s Play/Chucky, and Scream all began with dark first entries. Any moments that induced cackling were coincidental, and even that can be debated by degrees because ‘camp’ can emerge from even the hashiest of slinging slashers.
Speaking of, let’s take a moment to acknowledge all of the queer folks that inject a certain au jus into the horror medium. From performances to scriptwriting to fashion there’s an intentional wink and sly wit across a plethora of our favorite films that’s there organically or after repeated viewings becomes the stuff of camp legend. A brief acknowledgment of the text, It Came from the Closet: Queer Reflections on Horror (2022) because between those of us who saw ourselves reflected in the genre or found family through the space, the entire horror landscape is undergirded by LGBTQ+ folks…
…and meme-making millennials. Listen, that scene with Walter from Get Out is just an hors d’oeuvre before the main course of memetic material that’s dripping from each iteration of a social media platform to the next. From Tumblr, Twitter, to Tik Tok it’s there and it’s frequently rib-tickling. It’s no coincidence that the latest obsession was our favorite robotic girl M3GAN.
When that trailer was unleashed on the Internet, it was meme-a-geddon; she was cute, creepy, and campy: all things that horror fans love. Between her Twitter account having rap battle tête-à-têtes with Chucky’s and the promotional campaign that saw dance-coordinated M3GAN appearances it was truly a time to be alive on the Internet, all capped off with a perfect bow with M33GAN vs M3GAN. A film poster originally created by @LawJSharma dusted off an old Key and Peele sketch deep cut, Meegan, with a response from Monkeypaw Productions hearkening back to the insert horror ‘____ versus ____’ battles that have been a staple for generations.
*And while I have the mic, let me just give a brief shout-out to a true horror and comedic legend: Brenda Meeks from the Scary Movie franchise played by the inimitable Regina Hall because no other character in recent memory obliterated the tentpoles of horror by sheer force of comedic timing like Brenda Meeks. “Cindy the TV’s leaking” will always and forever be famous.
I love us for real. Even when we’re fighting for our lives, we’re going to make time to guffaw uproariously. Protecting yourself with a knife from a family trying to sacrifice you for game night? Be sure to let out the most unhinged warbling screech, while they pop like the goriest balloons before sunrise, smack your lips from the terrible aftertaste, and smoke a cigarette outside as their ostentatious wealth burns around you. Oh no, super secret project Trioxin gas brought all of the cadavers back from the dead? Well, be sure to pick the best hiding place like the basement; there’s no googly-eyed brain-eating Tar Man down there. Don’t forget to bring your friends along too just in case, you can never have too many casualties—I mean companions along the way.
The speed at which terror can become titillating is truly an art form, and we are forever indebted to the maestros that glue all those dutch tilts together. We live to trek through the hills of the uncanny valley and float down the river with the oily nightmare fuel as we wave to Mrs. Vorhees from our flimsy yellow raft. Jason just loves to flip those and is so affectionate with those hugs on the way down. My love for an extended metaphor is only rivaled by that for horror movies. What makes the genre unrivaled lies in the fact the experience can be an either/or situation of auditory–optical. Like the most daring funambulist, the best films always walk the tightrope between gore and goofy.
Horror is a medium that’s full of unparalleled tee-hee-laced delights amidst the adrenaline and eye covering. Many a person might presume there’s a masochistic element to willingly subjecting yourself to horrors unfathomable (no kink-shaming here) but there’s also the converse of safety. If you’re trapped in a theater the fright will end, the credits will roll, and the light of day is waiting on the other side. Or if you’re at home, the pause button is your best friend. With either experience, there’s always an exit. Regardless of your fear tolerance, laughter helps ease the scary medicine down. So take comfort in the camp and bloody hysterics because I know you’re dying for more.
~ Hey Siri, shuffle music! Now playing…horror theme that still slaps. ~
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