Sharp Laughter; The Slasher Genre Throughout the Decades and the Evolution of it’s Absurdist Satire.

by Fionn Morris.

The Slasher genre is seemingly omnipresent in popular culture since its 1960s inception. From its more seemingly grounded origins to its later fantastical and satirical gore baths, it’s a sub-genre whose iconography has become synonymous with horror and the medium of film itself. Yet, despite its notoriety for violence and tendency to display vile depictions of various depravities, the entire sub-genre is rooted in an extremely cynical satire. Though this may be more obvious in contemporary depictions of the sub-genre, these comical undertones were present during its inception, only growing more obvious as its grew onward. As such, it is infesting to explore how the sub-genre has adapted over time, and how this sense of satire that underlines this entire sub-genre has evolved with it.

This article will explore from the 60s to the 90s. It is split into three different eras with approximate dates, though it should be noted that these are not fixed time periods for the release of the films featured but rather the dates these trends were most popular.

60s and 70s (The Evil Incarnate)

Poster for the Texas Chainsaw Massacre, 1976.

These two decades were the formative years of the sub-genre, one which saw its rise and characteristics become fleshed out as time progressed. This period became significant due to the massive drive behind the American media’s new obsession, the serial killer phenomenon. While stories of mass murderers have always been circulated around the media outlet’s - with famous examples ranging from the myths of Sawney Bean to the ongoing mystery behind Jack the Ripper of Whitechapel - it was during this 1950s to 1960s times where a public hysteria around the concept became prominent due to a wide range of varying factors including the highly publicised work of the FBI researching into the subject of, “Criminal-Personality Profiling,” to the reportedly increase in violent crimes across America. Curiously, though, many of the outlets target not the low income and largely urban minorities that are usually the victims of these crimes, but rather middle America living in sub-urban environments, also allowing these outlets to make a spectacle out of the killings as the working class families who would complain about these fantastical morbid depictions were drowned out and ignored by the general public.. As such, these high-profile killings, along with the often tasteless, grizzly depictions of the killings typically circulated alongside, lead to the fear of murder being more potent than ever, even in places that were, for the majority, gated off and safe.

These fears were the perfect breeding ground for the Slasher flick to be born from, one that was originally characterised by exploiting the hysteria of middle America in a safe, distant fashion. One example of how was the presence of the domestic being invaded or corrupted by an unstoppable evil that became a central theme around the Slasher during this period. The weapons our killers use, for example, are given contextual purpose to the setting that each film takes place in. For Halloween(John Carpenter,1978)’s Michael Myers; a kitchen knife, while for Texas Chainsaw Massacre (Tobe Hooper, 1976)’s Leatherface; a chainsaw. These instruments are found typically in the settings that each take place in. Too, were the costumes used by the killers largely improvised, from the iconic Michael Myers mask that was famously a spray painted $1.98 William Shatner mask, to the extremely shoddy wig and sundress that Norman Bates dons as he channel’s his mother. Yet, what best connects the domestic and sub-urban life to these films is the, “true story,” phenomenon, and how the early Slasher genre loosely played with this concept in an effort to ground these horrific events in some sort of reality. Possibly the most infamous examples of this phenomena was The Town that Dreaded Sundown (Charles B. Pierce, 1976), a film that depicts the so called, “Phantom,” as he stalks and kills residents of the sub-urban town of Texarkana, Texas, eventually escaping into the night without any sense of closure for our protagonists. The events were a very loose interpretation of the 1946 Texarkana Moonlight Murders, a fact that the promotional material for the film outwardly brags about. As such, the film situation seems a lot more plausible, despite the many embellishments that the film takes in order to portray it’s narrative.

Another important point to note is that, while these killers were usually connected to the domestic in some ways, they were also paradoxically alien in other aspects. Emotionally stunted, awkward, and completely irredeemable; these killers tended to be something more than human, more just a force for evil in the silhouette of a human being. The iconography of the mask, a costume design that is almost synonymous with the entire sub-genre, is one of the best reinforcement of this concept, an uncanny piece of clothing that seemingly replicates the human face, yet remains entirely still and apathetic in spite of the horrific events that takes place in front of it. This concept even extends into the barbaric methods these killers typically employ in their murderers, usually leaving their murder scenes as more spectacles than tragedy. From Leatherface’s impaling of Pam on a meat hook while he dismembers Kirk’s body, to the Phantom Killer whose real murders were made more animalistic in their descriptions, with the police in the film reporting that one of his victims was, “literally chewed.” These grizzly descriptions not only play into the exploitation that the Slasher genre is famous for, but also are put in a context that makes these killers seem inhumane and impossible to reason with, simply forces of evil meant to cause as much destruction to the sub-urban community as possible.

Yet, still underneath all of this, there is a sense of irony, a play on these fears to an exaggerated level that can only be seen as fantastical and subtly comedic. It is found constantly throughout, with the extreme exploitation of violence being almost parodic. The concept around the phenomenon of the, “kill-count,” for example, really puts forward these satire elements. There is a constant emphasis in these films on this number, with comments always reminding the audience who has been lost and how many our killers have taken. This element of the film inherently trivializes the horrific display, framing the deaths as a scoreboard instead of a display of vulgarity. Another comedic element is the farcical structure to the narrative of each film, as both killers and victims alike rely heavily on the mistakes of their counterpart to get the upper hand. Texas Chainsaw Massacre is entrenched in this Comedy of Error’s esque approach. Kirk, Pam, and Jerry don’t get hunted by Leatherface as much as they bumble mistakenly into him, all accidentally due to a failure of communication between the group. Similarly, Sally’s escape is only guaranteed due to Grandpa’s frail figure not physically capable of killing her while she is subdued. In doing so, the film highlights the juxtaposition of the character’s perspective and the film’s reality, posies these killings less as brutal crescendo - rather more a bloody punchline.

Early 80s (The Camp)

Poster for Frdiay the 19th, 1980.

This era was largely characterized by the ever more comedic and spectacle side to the sub-urban hysteria, but also saw the Slasher evolve in a way to similarly delve and satirize issues that are outside of the middle America bubble.

On the continued exploration of the sub-urban hysteria, the ridiculous elements of the each respective film only became more apparent, soon shifting the killers as not tangible threats but rather spectacles for the audience to vicariously spectate. Friday the 13th(Sean S. Cunningham, 1980)’s Jason Vorhees, the most famous Slasher villain of this time, would typically stalk his prey and then kill them in increasingly ridiculous ways. From using arrows and hunting knives in the first movie, to later crushing Rick’s head being crushed so violently that his eyes popped out in Friday the 13th Part III (Steve Miner, 1981), or the famous sleeping-bag scene in Friday the 13th New Blood(John Carl Buechler, 1988) which sees Jason bludgeon Jane against a tree while she is tied up in her sleeping bag. Other times, these kills go from feasibly ridiculous to completely abstract and weird. From Freddy Kreuger morphing through walls to kill people in their dreams, to the Xenomorph bursting from the crewmate’s chest; these deadly scenes are more spectacular than they are conceivably scary.

Too, can this be seen in the iconography of these killers, who slowly became less and less the menacing silhouette that previously stalked the slash screens and rather become odd amalgamations made to be marvelled at. From the evolution of Jason, a killer that once stuck to the shadows only in later instalments emphasizing himself as a hulking beast with the prominent feature of his hockey mask, to Chucky, a doll that can morph its face from a wholesome doll to a degraded murderer seemingly at will. It is clear that the once simple, grounded depictions of our killers are gone and, in their place, are extravagant caricatures of violence that invades these domestic locations.

Wes Craven’s own Freddy Krueger is one of the earliest and best examples of this satirical Slasher character, as all aspects of him are so ridiculous that it is highly unlikely any viewer would take the allegorical threat he represents seriously. Visually, Krueger is almost a direct parallel to previous Slasher. While others tend to obscure their identity behind masks and don darker colours, Krueger’s bright red and green jumper, as well as his scarred face, makes his presence become more boisterous. His iconic weapon of a glove tipped with blades adds to this exuberance - a weapon that is equally as ridiculous as it is menacing. The voice - as while many Slashers are either silent or communicate in animalistic grunts - Robert Enguland’s gravelly voice provides an equally gleeful and disturbing levity to the character as he laughs at his victims. Even the theme music used for the film is over the top compared to his Slasher counter parts. No longer do we have the ambient horns and sparse instrumentation of Colin Stetson’s theme for Texas Chainsaw Massacre, nor the simple yet sinister progression downwards of piano chords for the iconic Halloween(1979) theme by John Carpenter. Rather, there is a heavily layered soundtrack that attacks the viewer with different sounds; from a choir that slowly builds into these blaring horns, to these revered drums and quick stings keyboard chords that are reminiscent of synth-rock, an endlessly crescendo on top of this tonal whistle, it is more than apparent that subtlety was not the goal for Craven.

This even extends to this move outwardly to the supernatural powers of Kruger. The presence of the supernatural was always apparent to many viewers. Michael Myer’s and Jason are the best depiction of this in the early days of the genre. Both are seemingly invincible, with Michael walking off bullet wounds and a stab to the eye. Yet their supernatural abilities have no significant visual effect, and their powers are left contextually vague, leaving room for ambiguity. Kruger takes these supernatural abilities further. He is able to morph and phase through objects at will, from his long-armed appearance in Tina’s dream, to his claw surfacing in Nancy’s bath - fleeing the scene at the sound of her mother at the door, and most famous shot of Krueger’s face phasing through the the walls above Nancy’s headboard. Kruger’s supernatural status is weaved into the very core of his existence, only being a tangible presence inside of the dreams of his victims. These magical realist characteristic to the killer inherently distances the film from the viewer’s reality, and reframes the film as pure entertainment rather than a messenger warning of a serious danger.

As previously mentioned, there is also a shift in the focus of the Slasher, one that sees a fragmentation in the genre to explore more subjects set outside of the sub-urban hysteria. Candyman (Bernard Rose, 1992), for example, saw a pivot from the mainly white middle class America environment to the working-class diverse streets of Chicago, focusing it’s commentary around the continued disenfranchisement of black American’s and the continued suffering on their part. Alien (Ridley Scott, 1979), however, tackles issues of wider working-class exploitation under a late-stage capitalist system, all set in a pseudo-industrial future. Moreover, with these changes in subject, we also see changes in the typical depictions of the killers and their victims, all of which are tailored to fit the discussion in these subjects. Tony Todd’s Candyman is less a force of unrelenting evil, but instead a sympathetic vengeful ghost who seeks justice for his pain. He is suave, his face is not obscured but relatively well groomed and he speaks charismatically, a somewhat charming if not equally menacing presence. In turn, the character becomes more of a romantic character, despite his violent and murderous intentions. We can even see this affect the characters in the film, who slowly start to see the Candyman as more a tragic character than a killer. As Lazic puts in his article on the film, “Helen is more heartbroken than horrified by Candyman’s story of forbidden love and implacable cruelty.” On the other end of the spectrum, we have the Xenomorph from Alien, who unlike Candyman or any of the other Slasher contemporary icons previously discussed, is; surprisingly enough, alien. It is constant throughout the film; her movement, her silhouette, her method of killing - it is impossibly foreign to all the crew onboard. As such, the fear surrounding her is one that is more abstract than just evil incarnate in the shape of man, but something more abstract, a brutal system that cannot be fully comprehended.

Similarly, our protagonists are no longer the typical middle America white teens who, but no fault of their own, are unfortunate meat sacks for our killer to slash, but are rather given a different context. Helen in Candyman is similar to these middle America teens, being a similar archetypal “final girl,” with her quips, agency and overall compassion being prevalent throughout. However, her lack of care of the black space she occupies is what makes Helen not just a naive victim, but also a harbinger to the pain that she brought this working-class community who warned her of the danger she will put everyone in. In contrast, the modern middle American teen is massively contrasted with the cast of Alien, all of which appear as working class miners… not only are these miners contrasted in class and age, but also their expression of gender, as while the teens usually exhibit an explicit portrayal their sex in their appearance, the Nostromo crew all wear basic, uniform costumes. This sense of androgyny even extends to the cast of character’s names, as supported by the film’s writer Dan O’Bannon in an interview with Collider, “The crew is unisex and all parts are interchangeable for men or women.”

Yet, again, these abstract horrors are still subtly comedic in spite of their really gruesome context. Beyond the extended spectacle of these deaths, each film also has a unique sense of satire. Candyman, for example, relies heavily on Helen’s naivety of the black neighbourhood around her, while the Xenomorph’s ultra-violent deaths are so brutal it is impossible to take literally.

Mid to Late 90s (The Clown)

Poster for Leprechaun, 1993.

The 90s saw a sort of rise of the deconstructed Slasher, where character and narrative archetypes that have become characteristic staples of the Slasher throughout it’s development become the iyre of the films satire, commenting on both the audiences way of watching and also what the positioning of these typical paradigm in the genre means. It was a rise that wasn’t necessarily due to any outside cultural changes like the sub-urban hysteria, but almost out of a need to survive, as the genre slowly lost its interest.

The, “black comedy,” sub-genre became nearly synonymous with the Slasher at this point, . While not in this decade, the 1986 sequel Texas Chainsaw Massacre II (Tobe Hooper, 2001) embodies this epidemic fully, pioneering the shift to comedy. Hooper attributed this to two reasons, claiming in a 2015 interview with The Flashback Drive that, “There was Reaganomics, affluence, Ferris Bueller. And since very few people saw the ironic humour in the original Texas Chainsaw, I decided, rightfully or wrongfully, to make it a comedy, a film of its time.” In many ways, Hooper was right, not just in what he deemed as a misinterpretation of the original Texas Chainsaw Massacre, but also the boom of American comedy films in general; one that could be partly contributed to the talent coming out of the then recently established late-night show Saturday Night Live which brought attention by mainstream audience to new talented writers. Yet, while one sector of the film industry became more popular, the same cannot be said for the Slasher. While still maintaining a profitable margin, it was clear that the camp Slasher was losing its mass appeal. In the mid 80s, tent pole franchises including Friday the 13th and Halloween were seeing stagnant box office results, a trend that would continue sinking lower as the decade progressed. It was this background that seemingly forced Hooper to make something different for his highly anticipated sequel. Clarifying this later in the same interview, Hooper states, “Looking back, it’s one of those strange films, where you wonder how it ever got made… Taking chances is cool, but it may not be smart.” Expectedly, it was a box office bomb, not making nearly as much as originally projected. But it’s influence is seemingly invaluable to the tongue-and-cheek structure that saw renewed interest to the Slasher later down the line.

The comedy of Texas Chainsaw Massacre II was surprisingly meta, relying on the intended audience's supposed knowledge of the Slasher genre and then juxtaposing those expectations. These were put front and centre with the introduction of our new favourite member of the Sawyer family, Chop Top. While unstable and cannibalistic like his relatives, Chop Top is pathetic in his portrayal. Costume wise, he is deathly thin and white, with the use of many close-up shots to force the audience uncomfortably close to this living corpse. Moreover, he is thrown around and belittled by his captures and Bubba. The Sawyer’s have also been purposefully put into fish-out-of-water scenario’s as a way to juxtapose their murderous instincts with the contemporary 80s America, with one stand out scene being when Drayton wins a cooking show to which he describes the human flesh he inconspicuously prepared as, “prime meat.” The depiction of the pathetic killer, as well as the fish-out-of-water scenarios for our villains, became staples of the 90s murderer. Scream(Wes Craven, 1996), for example, featured a pathetic killer in the role of Ghostface, whose careless stumbling led our heroes to get the upper hand. Other killer’s such as what we see in Leprechaun (Mark Jones, 1993) and Child’s Play(Tom Holland, 1998) would subvert this pathetic killer into one that presented weak but hiding a potential to create mass violence. While a films like the Bride of Chucky would take this fish-out-of-water comedy to different worlds, watching our killer doll tackle mundane issues such as marriage.

Yet, what is important to note is while they may satirise these elements of the Slasher genre, they are still very much present in these films. The “final girl,” for example, arguably the most significant archetype alongside the role of the Slasher itself, is still maintained, with all the very same sexual and gendered concepts that surround this model. Looking now at the iconic Scream, a film that simultaneously revived the Slasher and mastered the meta satire of the sub genres conventions. Many points of contradiction are obvious, unlike her counterparts she is steadfast against her killer’s, speaking back to Billy’s convoluted plan and not hesitating to put a bullet in him when Billy rises from the dead. Moreover, as Stu gleefully points out, she does not fully inhabit this idea of the pure virgin, as the film explores her sexual nature intimately in a way that the film is both self-aware of yet still continues with. The sequels do a more thorough job of dissecting and distancing Sidney from the, “final girl,” trope. For example, her presence itself is inherently contradictory to the trope, as the typical, “final girl,” would disappear from the face of the film or be killed as a way to up the tension. Furthermore, the, “final girl,” status that Sidney inhibits is shown to also have more everlasting internal conflicts, as her trauma largely characterise her relationships both platonically and romantically. In a sense, she transforms throughout the sequels, from a contradictory depiction of the trope that still upholds some of the gendered archetypes, to one that expands the scope of the trope outside of the inciting incident, displaying how the, “final girl,” lives when not being hunted.

by Fionn Morris, December 2023.

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