Gothic Novels, ‘SAW’ and ‘Sinners’: An analysis of horror through time.

By Neve Jacqueline Thomson

Edited by Madeline Kahl

What do ‘Obsession’, ‘Weapons’ and ‘Sinners’ all have in common? Beyond being nouns with strong connotations, they are also major box-office successes from the last few years. Across all three films, a total gross earning of $1,161,647,966 was achieved, a number so big that Google thought I was searching for a phone number. Other than their immense success, all of these films can also be categorised as “Horror”. Well, at least according to the general populace; many writers, directors, critics, and academies see these films as better suited to the genres of “Drama” or “Thriller” or… “Musical/Comedy”? Yes, Barker’s ‘Obsession’ was submitted to the Golden Globes in the “Musical/Comedy” category. So why is there such a gap between how your average viewer would categorise these highly successful films and how the movie industry (and sometimes even their own writers and directors) categorises them? 

I began to consider how often horror creators try to shake this label off their work as much as possible, so their art is perceived as more “legitimate”, after coming across a BlueSky post from highly successful horror screenwriter and director Leigh Whannell. Whannell co-created the multimillion-dollar SAW and Insidious franchises (along with horror genius James Wan) and is a fellow Aussie, something many Aussies don't realise. He was particularly peeved that people often explain the critical success of horror films by rewriting them as other genres, sometimes even the filmmakers themselves. Have a read of the post yourself below: 

SAW, which started as a small project between Whannell and Wan (and that they struggled to fund in Australia), became the most quotable and recognisable horror franchise of the early 00s and beyond, after funding from the then-small LA production company Lionsgate. It went on to redefine what horror would look like for the rest of the noughties. SAW is arguably a cultural phenomenon. Even people who haven’t seen SAW would understand what you mean when you say that you want to play a game. While later films moved away from its original messages to focus on gore, the original SAW explored more than just horrifying traps. SAW (2004) explored philosophical questions: Who gets to decide the worth of life, and what does a worthy life even look like? 

Jigsaw was set up as a hypocritical villain, one who was angry at the world and people because of his own suffering, holding tightly to a belief that the world had wronged him due to his terminal cancer diagnosis. His diagnosis, combined with his anger at the universe, results in him wanting to “play God” by teaching people lessons about not appreciating their own lives. I bring up SAW as an exemplification of what horror actually is, compared to how it is often perceived. SAW isn't just traps and gore to gross you out; it's an exploration of what it means to live a ‘worthy’ life, and who we let define that. Now, I’m not sure I would go so far as to say SAW’s philosophy is on par with sitting with an espresso in Saint-Germain-des-Prés, reading Sartre, and thinking about Existentialism, but it's definitely more than just its gore and scares.

So, as Whannell was so perplexed by, it makes us question: why does everyone want to distance themselves from this “horror” label? Why is it such a bad thing to be associated with horror media? Scary stories are a deep part of what it means to be human. Across the world, in all cultures and languages, we can almost always find a scary story: something to teach our kids a valuable lesson about not wandering off, or something to repeat simply for the pleasure of being scared, or of scaring others. From the Gothic novels of the 18th and 19th centuries to Friday the 13th, the people have spoken, and they love to be scared. 

However, to generalise, horror films don’t always perform well ‘critically’. Media labelled “horror” is rarely taken seriously at award ceremonies or by critics and academies. Before the critical success of films such as Sinners and Weapons, horror films had won only six acting Oscars. Hundreds of articles and videos discuss the odd Oscar bias against anything reminiscent of “horror”, and how filmmakers try to avoid the label for the sake of critical reception, so I don’t think I need to harp on that. However, when we do reward horror films, we can't call them that, lest we entertain the idea that the genre has more depth, nuance, and substance than previously considered. Instead, these films were fantastic “thrillers”, wonderful “action” flicks, or interesting takes on realist tales (based on true stories). The assumption behind all of this is that horror could never reach, or aspire to reach, the levels of intrigue and awe these other genres can so easily achieve. However, horror has shown time and again that, as a genre, it can explore themes in ways other genres cannot. It explores our greatest fears, our greatest desires, our late-night and early-morning thoughts. It understands us where, perhaps, a critically acclaimed film like The Godfather cannot. Perhaps horror’s unfiltered portrayal of serious topics- life, death, psychology, societal structures, and personhood- scares people more than jump scares, and maybe that is what drives the general population and throws critics and academics into moral outrage. 

In fact, moral outrage is inextricably linked to the horror genre and can be traced back to the height of the Gothic Novel. Gothic literature was extremely popular among the general public in the 18th and 19th centuries, with authors such as Ann Radcliffe among the highest-paid of her time. After publishing several “romances”, Radcliffe’s true financial acclaim came with the release of The Mysteries of Udolpho, a Gothic novel exploring death, the supernatural, and uncaring relatives, and still considered one of the most popular novels of that century. However, the wave of Gothic novel fans did not go unnoticed by the leering literary critics of the time, who naturally had something to say. For example, The Monk, written by Gothic novelist Matthew Gregory Lewis, was particularly controversial for its heavy themes, many associated more with the horror genre, such as explorations of the nature of evil and the supernatural, extreme violence, the unethical actions of religious leaders and sexual immorality. It also sparked moral outrage among literary critics, with some going so far as to say the book should be indictable by law. 

Interestingly, as often happens, the novel's critical reception and scandal led readers to flock to it, making it a commercial success. I am not too proud to admit that, like the spectrum of Gothic novels from the sophisticated The Mysteries of Udolpho to the shocking The Monk, the horror film genre has a range too. Do I think a movie like Terrifier 2 is trying to teach me something about repression, grief or oppressive societal structures? Not necessarily. However, just as the range of what it means for a novel to be “Gothic” is broad, films deemed “Horror” aren’t incapable of significant nuance. The moral outrage we see against specific, extreme horror films has bled into the genre more generally, marking it with controversy and a very specific marketability, but one deemed unworthy of critical acclaim. This is undoubtedly extremely unfair, considering how many extreme films exist that could fit within the action, thriller, or drama genres without muddying those genres' reputations. 

However, I feel the tide is turning for horror. I noticed this in particular with screenwriter and director Zach Cregger’s (Barbarian, Weapons, Resident Evil) rise as the public’s and critics’ current horror sweetheart. Perhaps because of his comedy background, his decision to allow comedic moments throughout his films, combined with the horror element’s exploration of misogyny, the grief of sudden loss, and addiction, has earned him significant critical acclaim. It’s important to note, however, that this isn't new; horror has long blended genres and explored deep concepts. It just seems like critics and academies are finally seeing what everyone else has seen for centuries. To conclude, yes, horror makes a lot of money for production companies, and yes, horror movies can be fun flicks to put on as background noise while you chat with your friends*. But horror also deserves its flowers for being what it is and always has been: pretty good. 

*PSA: On a more general note, please, everyone, stop looking at your phones and talking to your mates in the middle of a theatre where we have all paid too much money to see a horror film. I promise you, I’m taking Five Nights at Freddy’s 2 very seriously.


Neve Jacqueline Thomson is currently studying English, French and Education. She loves to read, watch and write about the horror genre and speculative fiction.


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