by: Kristen Anderson

It started with a silver spoon, a cup of tea, and streams of tears.

Jordan Peele’s Get Out ushered in a new wave of scary movies dubbed “prestige horror” in 2017 and brought new attention to the genre as a whole. Tense and brilliant, Get Out made big waves when it did huge numbers at the box office and even got a handful of Oscar nominations—a rarity for horror.

The following year, the supernatural Hereditary starring Toni Colette was a huge hit and from there, more critically acclaimed (and financially successful) scary movies started to pile up in a category that’s generally not taken seriously. Self-identified horror fans had known what was up for a while, but now people who hadn’t been as interested were making Midsommar flower crowns.

So where is the dividing line? What gives prestige horror respect and mass appeal, and conventional horror...not as much?

Prestige horror is generally pretty serious in tone and heavy on emotion. While you’re unlikely to cry during A Nightmare on Elm Street, A Quiet Place had theater-fulls of people audibly sniffling (so much for quiet). Perhaps because of the meaty material to dig into, which is, sadly, not a zombie pun, these movies attract heavy-hitter actors like Lupita Nyong’o in Us. There’s just a different air of gravitas, both in subject matter and production value.

Whereas the majority of horror movies are a little less deep, a little lighter on sweeping emotion-swelling musical cues and a little heavier on the “Ki ki ki ma ma ma.” Traditional horror is generally populated by actors who are doing their thing well while others are acting delightfully terribly. Viewers are more likely to shield their eyes than have to wipe away tears.

There are definitely movies that straddle the line, like 2014’s It Follows and The Guest, both boasting scores above 90% on Rotten Tomatoes. They feel prestige-y with an added element of fun that makes them also feel like traditional horror movies, and though very different films, they both draw comparisons to genre master John Carpenter. They came out a little too early to get lumped in with the prestige boom proper, but they have similar critical receptions and respect. 

That critical reception is a definitive part of what makes prestige horror “prestige.” Average Joes aren’t calling it “elevated horror” or whatever, we usually like a movie or don’t. And the tendency of critics to generally not be super receptive to traditional horror has deep, petty roots.

Legendary film critic Gene Siskel absolutely hated Friday the 13th, in his 1980 review calling director/producer Sean S. Cunningham, “one of the most despicable creatures ever to infest the movie business.” He even deliberately spoiled the third-act reveal, saying “It has been suggested to me that a great way to keep people from seeing a truly awful movie is to tell them the ending.” He went on to encourage readers to write letters of complaint to both the chairman of Gulf + Western, which, at the time, owned production company Paramount Pictures, as well as star Betsy Palmer. 

He later took a similar tack in 1984 with the release of Silent Night, Deadly Night. By now his reviews had made it to TV via his show with fellow critic Roger Ebert called At the Movies. Siskel used his platform to take the people responsible for the movie to task. He read out the names of the companies that owned Silent Night, Deadly Night’s production company, Tri-Star Pictures, and admonished them with a firm, “Shame on you.” He also called out the writer, director, and producer and said, "You people have nothing to be proud of."

Attempted life-ruining aside, Siskel and other critics who don’t gravitate towards horror are totally within their right not to—and also, they have a point. A lot of horror movies are bad. Even the beloved stuff is admittedly sometimes awful. Horror fans can largely appreciate a movie for what it is—sometimes there’s a so-bad-it’s-good quality, like in the classic Sleepaway Camp; knowing you’re there for the fun, weird kills, and bad dialogue as opposed to a moving and beautifully-crafted experience. Like anything else, there’s a whole spectrum, including movies that aren’t Troll 2-level crappy but aren’t exactly Citizen Kane, either. We can love them all without being shocked that they’re not up for a Golden Globe.

Plus, it’s hard to know what will be looked back upon with more respect in the future. Some of the movies considered groundbreaking horror classics today weren’t thought of that way when they originally came out. Night of the Living Dead, Psycho, and The Blair Witch Project are regarded with Criterion Collection seriousness, but they weren’t seen that way when they first came out. 

Night of the Living Dead caused outrage for its violence. Critics said Psycho was gimmicky. The Blair Witch Project made people barf. But today they’re talked about in film schools and widely considered to have broken new ground. They each ushered in new eras of movies, with copycats aplenty, and today they’re regarded with authority.

But years later, Scream broke new ground as well, so why is it regarded more as an above-average-quality nostalgia piece than as a prestigious horror flick?

As mentioned, I think one of the key factors to prestige is the seriousness in tone. Scream is fun and colorful, and as enjoyable as some of them are, most prestige horror movies aren’t much of a hoot. I think the biggest distinction between “prestige” and “other” is a sense of humor, not necessarily actual yuk-yuks but a lightness. It’s long been used in Hollywood as a dividing line between respected work and stuff that’s fun, but less important. Just try to think of the last time a non-dramatic movie or role swept the big categories during awards season.

There’s no less craft to comedy, although it can seem that way. Tracy Morgan once lamented on The Oprah Winfrey Show that people thought he was just being himself on 30 Rock when actually he was putting in effort and making choices, and I think that kind of assumption can spill over into works as a whole. We all know people in daily life who are naturally funny, so it follows that must be no big deal for people like that to make a fun movie. 

But lightness takes dexterity. They say that comedic actors are already primed to be good dramatic actors because comedy requires so much nuance and skill that it can be transferred over, but that the flip from seriousness to comedy isn’t nearly as easy (it’s worth nothing that Jordan Peele is a comedian in addition to a horror creator.) So why don’t we give lighter fare as much credit as the heavy stuff? I think right or wrong, there’s an assumption that darkness and seriousness take more intellect and effort, and the two together equals respect.

As they often should! For dyed-in-the-wool fans, it can be easy to resent this new wave. But does the existence of prestige horror mean other horror is inherently less-than? Not as respected? Honestly, maybe. But maybe we like it partially for that.

It’s fun to have a fandom, a particular interest and language that bonds you. It’s also understandable that conventional horror doesn’t have wide appeal. Sometimes it’s gross, man! Not everyone likes gross, and not everyone likes being scared or facing unpleasantries—in fact, we generally avoid them in daily life. 

It all boils down to personal opinion, your experience with the singular thing you’re watching at the time and how much you enjoy it. There’s a place for schlock and a place for prestige, and they can live within the same body. The same eye-shielding, tear-wiping body.