Descent Dissection

After angry and venomous discussion, I ended up listening to practically everyone, except for the pale, sickly fellow in the back who insisted that I should get to bed at a decent time. He really should speak up.

It turns out The Descent is good (it's the one about six women going into a cave who get trapped, and then attacked by creatures that live in the dark). I haven't said that about a horror movie since The Sixth Sense, which only sort of counts.

I think part of the reason I dislike most horror films is that I want the genre to be so much better than it is. I mean, I'm sure there are good horror movies out there - I hear they do some wonders in Japan - and I think people used to know how to make a good horror flick (The Shining's a beautifully crafted film, and scary as hell; The Exorcist I find less frightening, but still compelling). There is a wealth of story to be mined in the horror genre, and really interesting and complex questions to ask about people and the world through the lens of horror, and a fuck ton of entertainment and adrenaline value. But somewhere (probably in the fucking '80s) Wes Craven and his cronies showed up and ruined the whole damn project, with their needless gore, stupid plots, shallow characters, and endless sequels.

Now, it seems, the genre ruins itself. Every new horror movie makes the exact same mistakes as its predecessors: cheap, easy scares, confusing, ill-conceived, or poorly-explained premises, a cast of unlikeable, wooden stereotypes, played by attractive but forgettable twentysomethings, who function as fodder for whoever the Bad might be. It's as though Freddie Krueger and Jason Voorhees are the bouncers of Horror, and unless you've met the Dress Code (shitty, out-of-date, pseudogothic leather), you can't come into the party.

So where did The Descent go right?

First, its cast. Likable characters to whom we can easily relate, all female (eliminating the necessity for pointless and constant sexual tension), and most importantly, real. These are women you've met - the fact that they're wilderness and adrenaline junkies is an added layer, rather than the defining thrust of their personalities. I could see my high school English teacher going spelunking with these women; I could see my mom having a drink with them. If they're not particularly deep or complex, we can forgive them that - they're a world better than the cast of Scream.

That's important, the reality of the characters. It makes us care about what happens to them. And it makes us think that we could just as easily find ourselves in their shoes, and that makes the fear hit home.

Second, its atmosphere. The director (Neil Marshall) cultivates an environment of tension from the first few minutes, and is able to maintain it through practically every minute of the movie. This is no mean feat, considering the Baddies don't show up until the second half. But that's the beauty of the genre - once you establish the danger, you can maintain the tension using the environment itself. Every corner and shadow should be a threat, every beat a moment of potential violence. The caves, and the dark, are as much a part of the nightmare as the things that live in them. Marshall's aided by the natural claustrophobia of the caves, but that's as much a part of the horror as the creatures - the caves are the enemy, as well.

Third, and finally, the lack of gratuity. The film is violent, and bloody, and at times gruesome, but never to excess. There's never gore for the sake of gore, or sex for the sake of nudity. The blood is earned, which is miles better than the torture-porn kick.

That's not to say that I didn't have problems with the film - the characters and plot could be a little more robust, the final act could use some tighter beats, and the ending seems contrived. But it's a step in the right direction, and in a genre that needed all the progress it can get.