The Defanging: A History of Comedy Horror

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***Warning: contains some gory images***

I love comedy horror. Partly because I'm just slightly too much of a wimp to make a habit of watching straight-up horror, partly because my preferences lean heavily towards comedy in any case, and partly because a lot of it is so damn campy.

A common theme in horror is the idea of normality gone wrong - of mundane, everyday, comforting things somehow getting warped into something unsettling or menacing. Creepy lullabies, possessed children's toys, abandoned nurseries, the idea of a loved one becoming possessed or turning evil, and what have you.

Comedy horror, in a way, inverts this idea. It takes things originally intended to be frightening and transposes them into the realm of the mundane or comical. Comic relief can be a useful tool in horror-dominant media, as the more lighthearted scenes or jokey remarks provide a breather from the macabre. And the genre provides infinite opportunity to deconstruct and send up our well-established and much-loved horror tropes. Hammer horror Dracula who vaunts to suck your blood! will rarely be portrayed seriously now, and a lot of pop culture monsters have similarly reprised their roles in the comic domain (usually portrayed with over-the-top hamminess.)

Comedy horror can fall into a few broad categories. There are the first-and-foremost horror flicks that heavily employ dark humour as an accompaniment (Scream, Drag me to Hell, Jennifer's Body,) the comedy-dominant works which make use of horror tropes (Young Frankenstein, Ghostbusters, Evil Dead) or the broad spectrum of media that falls somewhere in between. Parody and deconstruction crop up an awful lot in all of these types, which I'll get to later.

A Short History

Sending up horror tropes, or the mingling of horror and comedy, is nothing new. Since the early days of horror novels, humour has been intertwined with the sinister. A literary example from the 1800's is Oscar Wilde's The Canterville Ghost, which pokes fun at the already well-established ghost story genre, as a high-class American family reacts primarily with annoyance rather than fear at the spectre who haunts their English mansion. The legend of Sleepy Hollow by Washington Irving (originally published in 1820) has been cited as one of the first great comedy horror novels. 

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In the 1920's and '30s, there were a number of stage plays and silent films which combined comedy with a kitschy horror and/or murder mystery element. A few movie examples include  The Haunted House (1921) The Bat (adapted into film in 1926 from the 1920 Broadway hit, in which a masked criminal dressed as a bat slowly picks off a group of guests searching for loot in a rented house) and The Cat and the Canary (the original play written in 1922 by John Willard, then adapted for screen in 1927 and remade in '39. The plot features a gathering of an eccentric old man's relatives for the reading of his will, and once again featured several characters being offed by a mysterious killer.)

In 1948, Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein hit the screens, in which Bela Lugosi reprised his role as Dracula. It has since been identified as the first commercially successful comedy horror film, and cemented the genre as commercially viable, ushering in a new brand of movies (including a series of  'Abbott and Costello Meet X' titles.). These works traditionally featured classic horror monsters, but with very little actual gore or violence. Laurel and Hardy and the Three Stooges occasionally got in on it too, with films such as A Live Ghost in 1934 and Spooks in 1943, respectively.

The sixties brought us sitcoms like The Munsters and The Addams Family, (the latter of which got their own feature film made in 1991, followed by a sequel in '93) which portrayed traditional monsters and gothic horror-style themes in a zany light.

The next couple of decades saw an emergence of over-the-top campiness in its horror comedies, among them Attack of the Killer Tomatoes (1978) and Please Don't Eat My Mother (1972), but with The Rocky Horror Picture Show being the most well-remembered. The 80s continued on this theme, bringing us Little Shop of Horrors, Haunted Honeymoon and the HBO TV series Tales From the Crypt (the overarching themes of the latter could be summed up as 'Blood! Blood and gore! Blood and gore and sex! More sex and more blood and gore! Wheeeeeee!') The '80s also provided us with the first Ghostbusters and Gremlins movies, both leaning towards the comedy end of the scale. According to Box Office Mojo, these two still make the top four best-selling comedy horror slots.

From here we begin to move into spoof territory, which I'll get to in more detail later on.

The Zom-Com

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The zombie apocalypse has made its way into so many comedy flicks it's earned itself a few cutesy subgenre buzzwords of its own, with "zom-com" and "zomedy" being favourites. Possibly because, let's be honest here, there's something inherently funny about zombies, if you write off the whole 'mortal terror' element for a second. Look at 'em, all moaning and lurching around. Funny.
Jean Yarbrough's King of the Zombies (1941) and Gordon Douglas's Zombies on Broadway (1944) are early examples of the genre, dealing with early Haitian-style zombies. A more recent(ish) well-known example would be Shaun of the Dead (2004), which given its prominent romantic subplot, earned itself the title of "zomromcom." (at which point you start to wonder if there's some sort of prefix one-upmanship game going on.) Zombieland (2009) is another popular example. These films had a primarily comedic element, but didn't shy away from gore or avoid more intense and sombre subject matter. (Simon Pegg's character being forced to shoot his own zombiefied mother being a pretty grim example.)

Deconstruction/Parody

As long as there's been horror, there's been stuff that makes fun of horror. Or in some cases deconstructs it more seriously. In fact, a lot of rather cliched horror conventions have now become more familiar to us in the realm of parody than played straight. The creepy castle surrounded by bats that a rain-drenched couple encounter in search of shelter, for example, has taken on a familiar kind of campiness (which The Rocky Horror Picture Show took full advantage of in 1975), and in the wake of a series of send-ups, the classic 'group of teenagers gradually picked off in an isolated holiday spot' slasher movie plot gets spoofed nowadays more often than it's portrayed seriously.
Mel Brooks parodied two of the more well-known classic monster narratives with Young Frankenstein in 1974 and Dracula, Dead and Loving It in 1995. The latter, whilst considerably less successful at the box office, still managed to achieve cult status. It's effectively a condensed version of the original story, with added jokes.

"We should have put newspapers down."
(Fun fact: the actor (Steven Weber) apparently
had no idea that was going to happen.) 

A lot of comedy horror films draw their humour from self-consciously hashing out and lampshading established movie conventions, or taking the traditional horror narrative and reframing it from a different perspective. The Cabin in the Woods (2012) and Tucker and Dale Versus Evil (2010) both make heavy use of this playing on the audience and the characters' established knowledge of traditional horror conventions in order to subvert and mess around with them. Severance  (2006) was a British-German comedy that also riffed on the theme of 'don't go off to stay in a remote location with your mates/colleagues/high school buddies, or you'll all be killed off in various imaginatively gory ways.' The Final Girls (2015) is one of the most recent examples of this particular brand of slasher movie parody.
For a literary example, the Discworld series has probably played with almost every traditional monster trope in existence (they feature a support group for the undead, for one,) either played for laughs or in some cases portrayed more seriously, and therefore deserves a brief mention.

Most recently, we've seen a couple of attempts at reprising old favourites (Goosebumps, the Ghostbusters remake) and if Scouts Guide to the Zombie Apocalypse (2015) is anything to go by, the zomedy genre is still going strong too.

And now I leave you with the song that's been playing in my head since I started thinking about writing this post.
Happy Halloween.

A Love Letter to Laika

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There's something weirdly satisfying (and slightly terrifying, just when you think about the sheer amount of work that goes into it) about stop-motion animation. I've always been fond of cartoons, and I like a good CGI effect as much as the next person. But stop-motion is a pretty damn impressive art form in itself.

Following the recent release of Kubo and the Two Strings (which I haven't had the chance to see yet, but which will probably get its own mention in a post eventually) I thought it would be a good time to talk a bit about the studio behind some of my most beloved animated productions. I'd like to look back on Laika's three previous major releases (Coraline, ParaNorman and The Boxtrolls), and maybe the potential comparisons between them. In all three films, to some extent or another, there's some underlying message about not judging by appearances, usually presented in a fresh or subversive enough way that we don't feel we're being beaten over the head by it, or that the young target demographic are being talked down to. The characters we may be initially inclined to view as monsters are often revealed to be more complex or misunderstood, but the films also manage to stray away from offering up a heavy-handed message about how humans are the real monsters. The visual style is noticeably different in three, and they all have their own specific brand of quirkiness and originality.

Founded in 2005 with the collapse and re-organisation of Will Vinton Studios, which was known for stop-motion content, the Portland-based company split off into two divisions: Laika Entertainment for films, and Laika House for smaller projects such as advertising. Laika began to make a name for itself in 2009 with the release of Coraline, which was nominated for an academy award for Best Animated Feature.

They're notable for some subtle efforts to feature LGBT characters in their animated family franchises (it's a small step, but it's a step) which I don't want to expand on so as not to risk spoiling parts that really should be witnessed first hand.

Also, for what it's worth, I used to dislike both this song and the band behind this one before Laika films used both in their closing credits, and I played both on a loop pretty much constantly when I was writing this piece up. If that doesn't attest to their greatness I don't know what does.


Coraline

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Often compared to Alice in Wonderland and occasionally mistakenly attributed to Tim Burton, Henry Selick's dark fantasy adaptation of Neil Gaiman's 2002 novel sees Coraline - a young girl who's just had to move to an isolated area with her overworked parents, who are ignoring her - long for a better, more exciting life. And a little door in her bedroom leads into what appears to be just that - an indulgent fantasy world that resembles a brighter and more entertaining version of her own home. There's only one odd thing about it: all the people in this world - replicas of her own family and friends - have black buttons for eyes. When the new world takes a turn for the sinister, Coraline must use all her wits and courage to escape.

One of the things I particularly liked about this one (besides the visuals, which we'll get to in a second) was the fact that Coraline - unlike some child protagonists - is never portrayed as unrealistically angelic. She acts the way you might expect a real kid - specifically a bored, disgruntled twelve-year-old - to act. She's occasionally a little bratty and mean-spirited, but it never gets to a point where she becomes actively unlikable. The characters we're supposed to root for aren't perfect, but their hearts are consistently in the right place.

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I feel I can't talk about this particular film without talking a little bit about its qualities as an adaptation. So in the interests of writing a more fleshed-out account, I decided to sit down and re-read the book (which I'd previously flicked through a few years ago after seeing the film.) And I realise that this next thing I'm going to say might well result in me getting my book-nerd license permanently revoked, especially considering the fact that I love Neil Gaiman, and his works tend to be in my top go-to list of books to gush about at parties. All that said, however...

...The film was better than the book.

That's not to say the book wasn't good. It's definitely worth a read in its own right, and there are a few little touches that I missed in the film. But overall, the film benefited hugely from having a visual element, and whereas Coraline's first encounter with the Other World is more explicitly sinister in the book (the Other Mother already looks a little off even without taking the button eyes into account - she's tall and thin, with claws for hands and slightly-too-sharp teeth; Coraline is evidently uncomfortable from the get-go) the creepiness and sense of not-quite-right manifest themselves more subtly and overtime in the film.

Can't lie, I'd be tempted. Source

The story transposes beautifully into a visual medium, particularly an animated one. It's easy to understand Coraline's initial desire to spend more time in the Other World (although she's still visibly apprehensive at first), since we get to experience the full impact of its beauty and escapism along with her. Just look at the garden scene, for example, or the indulgent food imagery.

It probably helps that Gaiman was heavily involved in aspects of the production and approved certain changes - such as the inclusion of Coraline's friend Wybie - being made in the film. In fact, Gaiman actually requested himself that changes be made in the film adaptation, remarking that Selick's original script was too similar to the source material. Adding an extra character was beneficial to the film if only for exposition purposes, and the added inclusion of Wybie's voiceless counterpart in the Other World adds a whole extra layer of creepiness - it's one of the early indications that something is off about the fantasy world.

The film also adds a few extended trips into the Other World, and puts Coraline's parents and their tendency to ignore her a little more into perspective (they're dealing with financial worries and approaching an important work deadline, as well as moving stress and her mother recovering from an injury.) The end product achieves something that film adaptations don't always manage: it stands up perfectly well as a film in its own right, instead of just coming off as a transposition of the book. And really, what else can you hope for?
       

ParaNorman

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A subversive take on your classic horror flick, with a few affectionate nods to the cheesy zombie apocalypse B-movie. Directed by Sam Fell and Chris Butler, it manages to be simultaneously more comedic (which includes getting a lot of adult humour past the radar) and even darker than its predecessor.

The basic premise is that Norman, a young boy living in a small town that's still cashing in on an ancient witch legend, has the ability to talk to ghosts. When a centuries-old curse causes a group of long-dead puritans to rise up as zombies, Norman and his ragtag group of companions have to deal with it, and uncover a horrifying secret in the process.

This one's interesting for a few reasons. For a start, unlike the other two films which both have a very clear villain, the characters and motivations in ParaNorman are more complex. Far from being a simple juxtaposition of good vs evil, it's a lot more ambiguous as to exactly whose side you want to be on, and it never oversimplifies the ideas or talks down to its audience.

The legendary witch. Source

In some ways, the would-be antagonists could be thought of as an inversion of the Beldam in Coraline. As with its predecessor, true forms are often shrouded or distorted, but whereas Coraline's villain starts out looking (mostly) ordinary and benign, disguising a monstrous true form, the monsters in this film turn out to be not all they seem (although going into any more detail would give the entire game away.)

Norman himself is presented as a fairly ordinary, good-natured straight-man protagonist, despite his supernatural powers, although not to the point where he becomes saccharine or unrealistic, and he does have his snarky moments. Most of the humour and conflict comes from other characters acting up around him. There's something weirdly heartwarming about watching him chat to the various neighbourhood ghosts on his way to school, even if it does cause bystanders to look on with concern as what appears to them to be a boy ducking around empty space and talking to thin air.

The film's full of nice little touches, including a good few subtle visual gags that warrant at least one rewatch. There's a bit about zombies experiencing culture shock after being confronted with the modern world several hundred years after their deaths, which is legitimately hilarious.
ParaNorman might be primarily a horror-comedy, but that certainly doesn't mean it shies away from heavier subject matter. The comedy offsets a very grim backstory (but again, going to far into detail would spoil it.) Characters, dead or alive, are more complex and multifaceted to be easily divvied up into good and evil. There are strong themes of fear and bullying that are interwoven into the story.

For the record, ParaNorman was my personal favourite out of the three.


Boxtrolls

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Made in 2014 and directed by Graham Annable and Anthony Stacchi (loosely based on Alan Snow's novel Here Be Monsters!) this one stands out for being, generally speaking, a little less supernatural than its predecessors (besides the invention of the boxtrolls themselves and the eccentric, steampunky, vaguely Dickensian fictional town in which it's set segues into a fantasy land.) It's also somewhat less dark than the others, although to be fair, it's been set a pretty low bar. There are definitely moments of "...They wouldn't really do that in a family film, would they?... would they?"

The premise is this: the town of Cheesebridge has been misguidedly terrified for years of Boxtrolls, little underground-dwelling monsters who have (for reasons as yet unrevealed to us,) acquired a human child named Eggs who they are raising as their own, resulting in an unconventional and slightly weird but happy and loving family. The widespread fear of boxtrolls is perpetuated by Archibald Snatcher, an exterminator plotting to kill off all the creatures to gain a higher social status.

Our villain du jour, Archibald Snatcher (Source)

And social status is a key theme here, with the idea of those who would do anything to climb the social ladder being explored at both the comedic and sinister ends of the scale. In this society, those at the top of the hierarchy are characterized by their white hats and access to the prestigious cheese-tasting room. The villain's desperation to worm his way into the elite class is his primary motivator here, to the point where he's determined to eat cheese (a marker of high society in this world) despite being violently allergic (resulting in some mild gross-out comedy.)

Although a bit of a moustache-twirler (we can tell exactly what kind of a person we're dealing with practically from his first appearance, although the other characters can't,) Snatcher has some depth as a character, and if he wasn't so horrible the audience could almost be persuaded to sympathize with his motives, especially considering how the upper class are portrayed. Like the villains in the previous two films, Snatcher's appearance and true nature are somewhat disguised, at least to the other characters; unlike the previous two, there's nothing supernatural about him. He also has the classic evil henchmen posse, which is also given a bit of an original spin, as we're given a look at antagonists who genuinely believe they're the good guys fighting the forces of evil, and increasingly question this as the story goes on. Whilst played for laughs, it's another thing you won't often see in a kids' film. And, as with ParaNorman, the town is seen rather distastefully using a past tragedy as a means for entertainment, and possibly a method of cashing in.

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And, oh god, the scenery. I was lucky enough to get to see this one on the big screen, and the visuals, especially the boxtrolls' underground dwelling (ironically, considering it's built out of rubbish by a bunch of grubby insect-eating goblins) are an absolute delight. The characters are adorable, and the message at the heart of the film is about the courage of being true to oneself - we define ourselves by our actions, more than anyone or anything else does. Also, there's a scene during the end credits that hilariously shatters the stop-motion fourth wall, as two of the characters have a philosophical chat about the possibility that they're all really just being controlled by giants...