The three theories of horror comedy for this week seem to blend together many of the elements of previous weeks readings: incongruity and superiority, camp and absurdity, physiological affect and psychoanalysis. The reason why horror can help reconciliate these various ideas of comedy, as Carroll describes, is because comedy and horror “share one condition”, but importantly:
“The boundary line… is drawn in terms of fear… depending upon whether the narrative context invests them with fearsomeness or not” (Carroll 157)
Arnzen explores the various ways that the over-the-top and exaggerated genre of splatter films position production, narrative, and audience to all render these films as ultimately unscary:
“This self-conscious and anti-illusionistic approach to what could truly be a horrific and frightening scene is postmodern because it destroys the effect– via effects– of terror and calls attention to itself as a work of art” (Arnzen 180)
[cw: flaying]
[specifically referencing 5:06-7:03]
In horror-comedies, through authorial intent or audience appropriation, that which could be handled seriously is interpreted comically. I think that the (body) horror inspired work of Sarah Sherman stands out to me as an example of this. While her work on SNL is most popular, and glimpses of horror can still be seen, the required tameness of network television severely limits the exaggeration required for both effective comedy and horror (see the “Scooby-Doo” sketch for evidence).
In her “Flayaway” infomercial, the incongruity between beauty standards and the human body are finally solved through the best mediator: capitalism! The slow, oozing details of the body spill out upon contact with the fast carelessness of fad/trend products. Similar to splatter films, amateurish, low-budget production– the skinful and skinless body– with gory one-upmanship– the constant trickles and spray of blood during the skinning– conflict in a way that draws attention to the effects. These “self-conscious” horror effects produce a sense of detachment from the diegesis, which not only disarms horror– Carroll states that horror works by getting the audience to “mimic” filmic reactions– but creates the distance necessary for many forms of laughter.
Horror-comedy is not my cup of tea, though I find it effective in its more campy, absurdist, and satirical elements (best summed up as me liking Adult Swim). However, as has been brought up for those comic forms, laughter can always be scrutinized. Crane proposes that the condition of the horror genre and affect is that they are “interrogative”, they pose a question, and the power of horror comes from the audience’s inability to respond (Crane 142-143). In the absence of an explanation, they make us afraid: squirm, scream, squeal, etc. What laughter– along the lines of Douglas or Eco– offers these interrogations is reconciliation, acceptance, and acquiescence. Horror is not just fear, it is awe of something that exists beyond our understanding. By defusing horror with humor/comedy, we need not be horrified by that which challenges our sensibilities: pay it no mind, instead we simply laugh.