Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Fourth House on the Left
In the beginning... there was... the house next door. In that house was a rather gigantic television. You know the kind. It resembled a piece of furniture, made of wood and carefully molded to resemble a television that was supposed to be... a piece of furniture.
The house was dark and my friend Joe had snuck me in over summer break. He assured me that his mother was upstairs and that we could watch TV. What might two rather youthful, enterprising young boys turn on the boob tube? Our family had grown up with cable, but the Friscos had "THE PREMIUM CHANNELS" which, at the time, meant Home Box Office (or simply put, HBO). Mid-day, that summer day, in the din of the air conditioning and in the haze of stale cigarette smoke, we watched the better part of a Nightmare on Elm Street Part II: Freddy's Revenge.
It wasn't my first horror movie but from what I can recall it was my first unsupervised romp into fowl language, carefully smoldering laughs and the burnt face of Freddy Krueger. It was thrilling. Looking back on it, I didn't get to see the original A Nightmare on Elm Street until a Halloween week of terror on one of the network stations (and that was cut to ribbons, pun intended). Never has a sequel so inspired me... well, one wouldn't again until the creepy hospital sequences of Halloween II. Nightmare 2 gave me a taste of what made horror great. Teenage independence with overt sexuality and the absolute certainty that sin would be met with appropriate recompense.
I start you off here on our path through the woods together because it was a moment where the movie and I had the same freedoms. The freedom to be scared and to scare and to enjoy what was truly scary. It's driven me ever since. Just ask my fiance who says I can't stop talking about horror films or my coworkers who are quite certain that I'm one bad cup of coffee away from being sliced and diced. But you won't have to ask them. I will show it to you. Not on celluloid (too expensive) or on a Creature Feature network television premiere (American Idol is on)... I will show you here.
Try to remember your first scary movie... or maybe the movie that first scared you (even if it wasn't a horror movie). Or the first time you didn't have to look at P.J. Soles breasts through your fingers.
-Dr. T (and the Gore Gore Girls)
From the bowels and brains of American International to the rib cage and eye sockets of Amicus, Doc Terror will write your eyes shut from the prehistory to the post apocalypse of horror.Doc Terror is a contributor to The Liberal Dead and The Dead Air Podcast.