For my birthday this year, I opted to do something a little different. Rather than something bigger or more commemorative, I instead invited several of my friends and family members over for a secret movie screening. The movie in question? Noroi: The Curse, one of my choices for the scariest movie ever made, and one I knew no one else had seen. I even made little Kagutaba magnets to memorialize the occasion, tchotchkes so everyone could take a slice of the curse home. It was one of the best birthdays I’ve ever had.

As expected, I developed a newfound appreciation for Kōji Shiraishi’s enduring classic. Reception was mixed, but largely positive, and I’d engaged with the text more than I had over a dozen solo viewings. What made a scary movie scary? Were the ghost babies frightening or silly? Hori (Satoru Jitsunashi) is the best, right? Most importantly, I capped the year with a scary movie with my loved ones in the dark. Few things are better than that. So… why not do it more often?

I did exactly that when, earlier this year, a friend of mine and I developed our Spooky Jamboree (yes, the official title). We live hours apart, and we both shared a passion for horror, though our proximal friend groups are a little more genre-averse. The goal, then, was to bring them in remotely, stream a different horror movie biweekly, and unpack and interrogate whatever movie we’d chosen afterwards. Several months in, it’s become my new favorite thing, so take this as your sign—your call to action—to start a horror movie club of your own.

The Basics

There are infinite ways to get started, though if you’re not especially tech-savvy like me, the most seamless method has been hosting a Discord channel. Our Spooky Jamboree has two chats. One is for the administrative work of scheduling and slotting the next movie, and the other is a general chat for any and all things horror. We meet in the evenings, usually around seven, and allow for half an hour of chit-chat before starting the week’s feature. After, we shift into video/voice chat to critically engage with what we’ve watched.

Thus far, we’ve streamed The First Omen, Rosemary’s Baby, Humanist Vampire Seeking Consenting Suicidal Person, Speak No Evil (remake), Jennifer’s Body, and plenty else. Coming up? I’m going to force everyone to watch both Onibaba and The Virgin Spring. If a film is available on streaming, we’ll have one person host while everyone else watches. If not, yes, we’ll spend a few dollars to access a digital rental from home. I know it’s hard to stomach in today’s age, but I promise it’s okay to pay for the art you love.

The Conversations

The real meat of the group are our post-screening conversations. The inception was a love for horror, yes, but it was just as much about carving out a space to unpack what’s going on in the world through horror. We’re both millennials, right at the cusp, and navigating an ever-changing sociopolitical landscape has taken its toll. Will we ever buy a house? Why can’t I be gay in my home state? Is the world going to explode tomorrow? Possibly (probably…), but that’s a lot for one single person to bear. The weight of the world is a collective, not a singular burden, though finding opportunities to develop that dialogue is never easy.

Speak No Evil? We had a riveting, somewhat heated conversation about gender roles and traditional masculinity. Rosemary’s Baby? We grappled with the enduring nature of great art helmed by bad people. Humanist Vampire Seeking Consenting Suicidal Person broke everyone’s heart. Through horror, there’s reconciliation, an opportunity to contend with our own role in the world and refract what’s really happening through a lens of genre.

There is, additionally, an opportunity to develop and strengthen our own language and our own perspectives. Ask me how I’m feeling, and I’ll likely stammer for half an hour before coming up with anything remotely cogent. Ask me how The First Omen refracts the world we live in today, and I’m on it. I can easily interrogate Arkasha Stevenson’s phenomenal debut and clarify how I’m feeling. Jackals help to define my own nebulous strife and grief. How wonderful is that?

And community really is key. I’m big on the “go to the movies alone” train, though I don’t do it all that often. It’s not because of social stigma or shame, but rather, a deep, incessant need to talk about what I’m seeing with someone. I was the only person in a late-night, 2018 showing of Luca Guadagnino’s Suspiria remake, and for months, there was no one for me to fawn over the film with. That sucks.

The World is Scary, But Friends are Kind

My friendships feel richer, more textured, and meaningful because of the few hours we spend together each month watching scary movies, pretending they don’t scare us, and then conceding that they do, and sharing specific reasons why. Several of my friends aren’t even genre fans, and my favorite movies feel new all over again when I have an opportunity to see live reactions from someone who’s never seen them before.

The world is on fire. Literally and figuratively. Everything is so expensive. Every day, the ceaseless cycle of Bad News risks overloading my mind, sending me into a permanent state of executive dysfunction where I’m surviving, but not really living. Horror movies have always been my getaway, though beyond mere catharsis, they’re now opportunities for dialogue with the people who matter most.

I never thought Onibaba was going to really, profoundly change my life, though when we screen the film in the coming weeks, something tells me it just might. How funny is that? A ritual of horror movies and the world around me feels a little less scary. So, grab some friends, boot up your computers, and pop on Feardotcom or whatever you want to watch. It’ll be the best thing you do all year.

Categorized: Editorials