"Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside in a cloud of smoke, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming "Wow! What a Ride!" — Hunter S. Thompson Read a book, watch a foreign film, do something you’ll be ashamed of, run naked, brazen, and screaming down the road of life! Don’t worry if you fall down, because after you get back up, dust yourself off, remember : chicks dig scars! —Nathan Schubert I‟ve never tried to complicate life. Try to be happy, travel the world, and experience anything you can get your hands on. This mindset has driven my passion for reading, movies, and travel; for me there exists little more to the human experience than trying to digest as much of this world as possible in our short time here. This has slowly led me towards teaching, to hopefully inspire that spark of curiosity, to fan the embers of possibility, to embolden that glimmer of imagination in a young student. Because missing out on the best things in life for the simple reason that no one ever showed you where the entrance was makes Nathan a very dull boy. Finding a Message Amongst the Horror: An I-Search Nathan Schubert Spring, 2011. “Give them pleasure - the same pleasure they have when they wake up from a nightmare.” —Alfred Hitchcock The darkness was suffocating. Its oppressive weight bore down upon me, closing in for the kill. Only the light from my alarm clock held this predator at bay. Its candescent light glimmered across the surface of my bed sheets, enveloping me in a shield of blue. I felt like an astronaut floating through the vast emptiness of space; the sun reflecting off my visor, its thin curved glass, the only barrier between me and the all-consuming darkness that surrounded me. I felt adrift. The light from the clock choked as it tried to penetrate further into the blackness. The floor had been swallowed; I couldn‟t make out the shape of the shelves that stood only three feet from my bed, the traces of moonlight that would creep under the trim of my curtains had retreated, giving way in the face of a superior force. I was alone, abducted from the safety of my surroundings, placed in a void, and left to my fate. As I lay there, my blanket pulled up just below my eyes, I realized that something was moving within the blackness, something evil, something unimaginable, something that crept ever closer. I remember wishing that I really was alone. I wanted to move, to peel back my fading shield and leap into the void. But any effort was in vain; my muscles were frozen in place. The cold grasp of the creature had hold of me; its icy web of fear guided it to its prey. I can‟t remember if I closed my eyes or if the dark finally shattered my shield, but in that impenetrable blackness I sensed the creature was finally upon me. The demonic hiss of its jaws opening reverberated in my right ear. Its breath moved every hair across my face. As the final moment approached it placed a hand upon my chest, forcing the oxygen out of my lungs. Then it pounced, snapped forward to administer the killing blow. I let out a silent scream. A flash of bright light blinded my eyes. Someone or something was shaking me; their hand rubbing my chest. A distant repetition of words began to get closer, —Nathan . Nathan, wake up, you‟re having a nightmare! I wrenched forward, the empty scream in my throat found its voice. The terror of what I had just experienced manifested itself into a bloodcurdling scream. A scream that seemed to continue long after my vocal chords had ceased accompanying it with sound. Slowly, I began to slide back into reality. The room was now filled with light. There sat on my bed, at my side, was my mother. Both my sister and brother stood in the doorway, hesitant to venture closer, convinced I was possessed by the devil. A film of sweat covered my body, I struggled to breathe, laboring for air—my lungs heaved—arching my back as they fought for oxygen. I remember turning to my mother, looking for a haven of comfort, a sense of familiarity, the calming touch only a mother can bring. Instead, her eyes locked onto mine, her top lip curled, and she began to bare her fangs, —Schubert, she snarled. Did you watch that horror film, even after I told you not to? She didn‟t wait for an answer before firing her next question. How many times have I told you that we can‟t watch horror films at night? What happens every time? She paused. —I tried to answer, Well . But . It wasn‟t, I didn‟t think it was . —She cut me off; I‟ll tell you what happens! We end up with you screaming at three in the morning, waking the whole bloody house up! This wasn‟t the first time I had heard those words and it wouldn‟t be the last. To say I liked horror films as a child would be an understatement, a passion that is alive and kicking today. Good, bad, gory, clichéd, or art house, I didn‟t care. Be it a drooling monster, a psychotic serial killer, or a shambling zombie that wrought the terror, I wanted to watch it. This addiction became the bane of my mother‟s existence. There existed a perpetual struggle between my mother and me. On one side my mother fought to save my soul from irrevocable corruption, and on the other was my insatiable desire to confront those things that go bump in the night. This battle is an intrinsic part of human nature. It exists in every culture and society on this earth. Mothers across the globe are continually thwarted by imaginary demons, unspeakable monsters, and ghastly ghouls. But what is this struggle at its core? Like the struggle between power and liberty, does the influence of horror corrode the foundations of a moral character? As children we are told to be weary of dark basements, to avert our gaze from unspeakable evil, warnings designed to protect our innocence from the dark reality of the world, a notion that Friedrich Nietzsche chillingly echoes, “If you stare into the Abyss long enough the Abyss stares back at you.” But, over the years I‟ve become convinced that horror movies, like the bulk of mainstream movies, are in fact a reinforcement of the very innocence and moral character that our collective mothers have been trying to protect. And Hollywood provides this social indoctrination a helping hand by propagating a subtext in which adherence to its well worn path is rewarded and deviation is punished. I want to explore the possibility that among the blood, among the screams, and among the killers there is hidden a moral agenda, that the stuff of nightmares is being used to reinforce the customs of Christian morality. And to find out if it is this hidden subtext that has driven me to disobey custom and to seek out those films that leave us with more questions than answers. To further explore these questions I wanted to revisit two films considered to be horror “classics.” Two films that explore the moral expectations of society yet do so in very different ways. Firstly, I hope to spend a little time at Camp Crystal Lake with one of the original “slasher” kings—Friday 13th Part 1. This seminal horror movie introduces the rules and expectations that will come to define the traditional “slasher” movie for decades to come; rules that introduce the idea of moral responsibility, and the consequences of not adhering to them. It is Friday 13th Part 1 that gives birth to some of the most traditional clichés seen in almost every “slasher” movie since. The survival of the virgin, the all American hero saving the day, and the punishment of those that break societal norms, such as experimenting with drugs, pre-marital sex, and anti-social behavior; actions that for decades to come will guarantee the perpetrator a grizzly demise. For the second film I wanted to explore a more modern horror film—Se7en. This film challenges the expected rules laid down by predecessors such as Friday 13th and Halloween. However, despite the obvious questioning of the perceived rules and moral code enforced by earlier films, Se7en, with its setting of urban dystopia, unsettles us with a tale of a society that has fallen by the wayside; a society that must be guided back to the straight road of morality by the lessons of a psychotic killer. This killer‟s lessons are revealed to us through a brutal expose of the dark heart of human behavior. So Se7en, despite its destruction of the American hero, the desecration of the virginal female character, and the slide of humanity into the Abyss still follows the foundations of standard horror films; where redemption can only be found by turning away from what is the central theme of the film—the seven deadly sins. I also intend to use several books to determine the moral purpose of horror. John Carpenter: The Prince of Darkness by Gilles Boulenger is a frank interview with one of Hollywood‟s most famous horror directors, John Carpenter. A director with such films as Halloween, The Thing, and The Fog under his belt; John Carpenter gives a frank and revealing look into what goes into making a horror film.