It's the conclusion of Kindertrauma week on BAD, where we've been talking about movies that scarred us as kids. When I was little, my parents didn't really censor my viewing habits, so as early as four or five years old, I was enamored with horror films. Jason Voorhees, Freddy Krueger, and Chucky were as prevalent in my house as stuff like Jem and Fraggle Rock. My parents explained that this stuff was all make-believe, just like the cartoons I watched or like playing dress-up with my friends.
Also, I don't know about you guys, but my neurotic fear of death set in at a very early age, and I'd wake my parents up in the middle of the night freaking out about what happens the exact moment that you die and cease to exist. Where do your memories and thoughts and feelings go? What was the point of living? I was a really fucked up kid, man. Horror movies were a good outlet for that.
Nothing really scared or unnerved me until I saw Poltergeist, Tobe Hooper's (or Steven Spielberg -- there's been tons of argument over the years over who actually directed the film) supernatural horror flick about a family plagued by evil ghosts. It wasn't little Carol Anne communicating with spirits that scared me, or even the creepy clown possessed by ghosts, or the terrifying tree invasion sequence.
Nope. The thing that finally scared the crap out of tiny me was this: one of the nerdy parapsychologists is in the kitchen, when a steak just starts crawling across the counter. This part is silly, no big deal. But then the steak opens up and maggots burst out. There are only two things that really freak me out: cockroaches and maggots. There's something about maggots that is just absolutely unsettling. Something about how they all pulse and squirm as one unit and thrive on rotting flesh -- I have no idea. Worms: fine. Grubs: okay. Any other kind of larvae: shrug, whatever. But maggots in particular just freak me the hell out.
But the scene didn't stop terrifying me there. He runs into the bathroom to wash his face, and his friggin' face starts rotting right the hell off. That this is the first horror film to actually traumatize me is a testament to the truly wonderful practical effects work, particularly in this sequence, which you can watch below. Even now, I can hardly stand to look at it. I know it's fake, and you can tell it's all make-up -- but it's that sick movie magic that implies a false reality in our brains, that makes us think, what if I looked in the mirror and, possessed by some malevolent force, started clawing my own face off? What if this was real? It's like watching Hooper's Texas Chain Saw Massacre and filling in the blanks with all the blood and gore you don't see. I know this is all make-believe. I know this isn't real, but the implication is just so horrifying that my brain makes it real for me.
So thanks, Poltergeist. You were the first horror film that proved to me what a horror film could actually be, and you inspired me to seek out films that were actually scary.