Sure, films of this ilk routinely turn a profit, but their reputations couldn\u2019t be worse; audiences and critics frequently dismiss them as formulaic tripe, overly reliant on jump-scares. It puts these movies in an odd place: seemingly panned by everyone, but attracting an endless supply of moviegoers. Yet the very formula that puts so many off is what brings others in the door in the first place.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
In The Spierig Brothers\u2019 Winchester<\/a><\/em> (2018), there\u2019s a moment just a few minutes in when the film lays the premise bare\u2014Jason Clarke, as a doctor who doesn\u2019t believe in ghosts, is assigned to perform a psychological evaluation on one of the most famously haunted people in American history, in one of its most famously haunted locations. If you gave each audience member a moment to predict, beat-for-beat, how the rest of the story would unfold, most would probably land every major moment. But is that\u2026 a bad thing?<\/p>\n\n\n\n When audiences sit down for a mid-summer action blockbuster starring the most beautiful, muscular people on the planet, they know exactly what they\u2019re getting, and are typically effusive with their praise when it delivers on that promise. Twitter may have thrashed Martin Scorsese when he compared superhero films\u2019 formulaic construction to theme park rides, but most horror fans would probably admit that the most favorable comparison for movies like Winchester<\/em> is that of a roller coaster. Each scene features the same up-and-down structure, beginning with a scary noise accompanied by tense music which leads to a journey down a creepy hall, SNEAK ATTACK, and then a calm moment of safety before it all starts again. <\/p>\n\n\n\n It should be no different when trashy, low-budget thrillers can satisfyingly provide audiences the cinematic comfort food they paid for than when the standard, lifeless costumed superhero saves the day to widespread praise<\/a>. You know what you\u2019re getting with movies like these. That\u2019s part of their appeal.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Beyond predictability, Winchester <\/em>may well be the perfect example of this archetype, packed to the brim with two-dimensional characters and jump scares that land about half the time. But enough effort is put into the creepy set design, quaint \u201clet\u2019s play dress-up\u201d period costuming, and delightfully dark atmosphere that it all works anyway. The defining elements are all there, from the handful of D-list performers supporting one or two beloved actors to the laughable, left-field twist ending. It\u2019s made with just enough craft (particularly an effective, intense long-take sequence at the midpoint) that it doesn\u2019t need to be enjoyed with irony or alcohol\u2014 though the latter can certainly add to the experience.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Within the broader label of Late Winter Horror, there are a few specific divisions that stand out. The first is the ghost story, made up of haunted houses like Winchester<\/em>, haunted children like The Turning<\/em>, and haunted dolls like the two Boy<\/em> movies. These films aren\u2019t all necessarily actually about ghosts, but hinge on a central mystery of whether a ghost is actually present.<\/p>\n\n\n\n All four haunts have twist endings without any semblance of set-up, and their degrees of success vary wildly. The Boy<\/em> (2016) ends with an admirably insane climax kicked off by pulling the rug out from under the audience as a grown man emerges from the walls, delightfully resolving the film\u2019s mystery and taking the last act into slasher territory. On the other hand, its follow-up Brahms: The Boy 2<\/em> (2020), tries to one-up the first twist and unwittingly undermines everything that made the first film work. The Turning<\/em> barely has an ending, instead opting for an attempted mind-F second only to 2012\u2019s The Devil Inside<\/em> in failing to wrap up its narrative.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Secondly, you have late entries into dead or slowly dying horror franchises like The Grudge <\/em>(2020), Insidious: The Last Key<\/em> (2018) and The Strangers: Prey at Night <\/a><\/em>(2018). Typically, when major horror franchises shift from the typical October power month to late Winter, it\u2019s not a good sign for the series. These films have their moments, and boast the trappings of the genre, but all feel slightly trapped by the series in which they\u2019re set. None of them can truly embrace the grotesque quirks of the best Late Winter Horror films, and sort of feel like diet entries in both their franchise and the genre. Even The Grudge<\/em>, which boasts an uncharacteristically impressive cast led by John Cho, fails to deliver anything memorable aside from a confidently bleak conclusion.<\/p>\n\n\n\n One of the more interesting of these specific archetypes is the single-location \u201creal world\u201d thriller, devoid of anything supernatural. In Escape Room<\/a><\/em> (2019), The Belko Experiment <\/em>(2016), and this month\u2019s The Hunt<\/a><\/em>, a small cast of characters are trapped in a dreadful situation as their numbers slowly dwindle. Borrowing narrative structure from video games, the heroes survive waves of obstacles until only one or two remain. These movies certainly bring the roller coaster element of Late Winter Horror Films, and the central mystery of \u201cwhat is happening\u201d keeps the stories engaging.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n Of the realistic, single-location thrillers, only The Hunt<\/em> tries to use the premise to actually say something, but it\u2019s largely bungled by a confused tone. It functions decently as a fun, empty showcase of star Betty Gilpin\u2019s talents and a handful of effective action sequences, but has no idea how to use the language of satire. Writers Damon Lindelof and Craig Zobel attempt to make a grand statement about the hypocrisy of well-off liberals, but can\u2019t land on how to say it, instead coming off as gleefully cruel. Probably the bottom of the barrel in this genre, The Hunt <\/em>is at the very least an ambitious effort with flashes of brilliance, which is more than one can say about the mindless glut of the most expensive blockbusters.<\/p>\n\n\n\n And finally, in 2020 a new type of Late Winter Horror Film has arrived, and it could very well be the one that actually changes the (undeserved) reputation of the genre. The Lodge<\/em> and Leigh Whannell\u2019s Invisible Man<\/a><\/em> operate in the same realm as Jennifer Kent\u2019s The Babadook<\/em> (2014), utilizing a rich subtext to give their films a larger meeting. And much like Hereditary<\/a><\/em> (2018), The Lodge <\/em>uses long, static takes that immerse the viewer in a deeply unsettling house, creating an ever-present sense of dread even before the story ramps up into outright terror. On top of this appeal to arthouse audiences, they stay true to their roots, imbuing \u201cprestige horror\u201d with the unsettling absurdity of the traditional, schlocky late winter horror film.<\/p>\n\n\n\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/crookedmarquee.com\/stage8\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/03\/winchester-1024x427.jpg\")
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