By KEVIN HOOVER
Blame it on Wan. Or blame it on Roth. Even blame it on Zombie if you want; he’s used to our bullshit by now. If you’re the caliber of horror fan who thinks “torture porn” is just gratuitous violence for the sake of gore and brutality, then there’s a gaggle of “splat pack” directors primed for your head-wagging and finger-pointing. Originally intended to be a disparaging label slapped on films critics felt were lacking any true artistic merit, the torture porn rise to prominence in the early 2000s seemed like a logical next step. When whispers about extreme Eastern fare like the Guinea Pig franchise made their way stateside, Western horror fans in search of something similar would find their options extremely limited: poor-quality bootlegs, overpriced imports or Faces of Death-stylized mondos. It took the likes of Wan, Roth, Zombie and their contemporaries to steer horror out of its contentment of the 90s and into new, unfamiliar territory. And unfamiliar meant uncomfortable: no more fast edits where brutal kill scenes were reduced to mere seconds in length. Taking their place would now be slow, drawn-out shots of sadism, garnished with copious amounts of grue. It was too much for some; for others, like Ariel Powers-Schaub, it was an infusion of new blood long overdue.
An esteemed author and podcaster, Ariel’s journey to educate others about the richly nuanced narratives of her favorite films – chief amongst them being Saw – began with her contributions to Ghouls Magazine. Now, her forthcoming book, MILLENNIAL NASTIES: ANALYZING A DECADE OF BRUTAL HORROR FILM VIOLENCE (Encyclopocalypse Publications), expands upon her analyses of titles like Wolf Creek, Final Destination and Wrong Turn to draw societal parallels and argue their inclusion in any discussion about good genre films. Ahead of the book’s release later this year, Ariel spoke about her love of all things bloody with RUE MORGUE.
Ariel Powers-Schaub
Let us into your devious little mind and share how you came up with the idea for your debut book MILLENNIAL NASTIES, and why Encyclopocalypse was the right partner for the project.
This idea first started in that I was going to write a book about the Saw franchise because that’s my heart. Then the more I thought about it, the more I realized I wanted to talk about all these other movies that influenced me and what was going on in cinema at the time. I thought, “I might have something here,” but I had no idea how to write a book! I started Googling and talking to my friend Janine Pipe who published a book through Encyclopocalypse (Sausages: The Making of Dog Soldiers) and she was really supportive. At the end of 2022, I had my book about 1/3 written and I decided I wanted to pitch (to publishers). A lot of people decide on self-publishing because they want control over the process – which makes total sense – but I wanted to work with a publisher because, more than control, I wanted support. I was drawn to Encyclopocalypse because of the other kinds of things they publish and because of Janine saying she had a positive experience working with them.
The original “Video Nasties” were films deemed controversial enough by the BBFC (British Board of Film Classification) to warrant heavy edits or outright prohibition in the UK. What criteria did you use when choosing what to write about?
I wanted to pick films that were violent, gory and that people tended to look down on at the time they came out; stuff that has been dismissed as torture porn. I also wanted to look at films that didn’t fit that category, like Final Destination. You never hear it called torture porn – and it’s not – but when you think about it, it’s just a glossy, nasty film. If you put a grittier filter on it, you might call it torture porn, because it’s about teenagers dying in horrible ways and there’s no escape from death. One of the other things running through these films is a bleakness of hopelessness. I also wanted to talk about the remake surge that was happening at this time. A lot of remakes came out in the 2000s, and the ones that I cover in the book have a much meaner feel to them than even some of the originals.
Torture porn was a red flag for some, stigmatizing the attached movies as nothing more than low-brow splatter vehicles. But some films, like your beloved Saw, could be regarded as cerebral. Do you believe that some of the “splat pack” directors cost themselves an audience by leaning too much into the blood and guts?
James Wan and Leigh Whannell have gone on to be just fine, and I think money has something to do with that. When your franchise makes a billion dollars, you can direct Aquaman. Eli Roth and Rob Zombie, those are two controversial names – you’ve got to watch out if you say you like Rob Zombie movies. Did they cost themselves an audience? Maybe, but I also have respect for making exactly the kind of film you want to make and finding your audience for that. They found me and other people like me, who like these movies for exactly what they are.
There are diehard horror fans who feel that the violence in these films is too excessive for its own good. From someone as entrenched in gore as you are, is there ever a right time for a director to pump the brakes before they go too far?
My heart says, “No, get give me buckets of blood.” But the film analyst in me says it depends on the story you want to tell. There are excellent horror movies where the horror is what we don’t see. There’s tons of analyses about that kind of horror, where things are happening off-screen that you don’t see or that you only see for a second and your imagination fills in the rest. That can be wonderful, but in the MILLENNIAL NASTIES, that’s not what we’re doing. We’re watching somebody step on a nail; we’re watching somebody pick up a phone and a needle goes into their ear. That’s what we’re doing here and it’s OK that it’s not for everybody. No art is.
MILLENNIAL NASTIES can seemingly serve many masters, from the film historian to the gore hound-in-training. What was the overarching motivation for you, as the author, to see your book through?
I wanted to acknowledge and preserve the history of these films and highlight their importance in horror history. Part of my pitch to the publisher had to be why this book should exist. I couldn’t find many books like this out there. There are some, for sure, and some are good, but there’s not a ton and I just don’t think a critical analytical appreciative lens has been taken enough to this era of cinema. Even horror fans who I love sometimes punch down on these movies. They’ll say, “Yeah, that’s kind of fun, but there’s not a lot there to talk about.” I wanted to say, “Yes there is!” These films are an important part of history. If you haven’t considered these films before, maybe after reading a chapter or two of my book, you’ll feel like a few of them speak to you.
