The first film to be truly branded horror, Robert Wiene's "The Cabinet of Doctor Caligari," was released in 1920, decades after film had made its way into the forefront of cultural awareness. Following that was F.W. Murnau's vampire masterpiece "Nosferatu" in 1922, and from there a genre was born.
Directors previous to the 20s may have had discomfort in mind when making their early films, but none had fully committed to a feature length scare. There were thrillers like "Battleship Potemkin" and, to some extent, "A Trip to the Moon." There were great dramas and great comedies that had elements of the burgeoning subgenre, but it wasn't until Murnau and Wiene that horror became its own entity.
For a long time, horror was considered a base genre, a weaker alternative to more creative cinema. Indeed, in many cases up through modern day, horror has been a perfect place to shlep off dumb ideas on worse production values and uninterested minds.
But there are many more cases of successful, effective horror to counteract the made for television mashups and campy disaster pics: "Psycho," "The Amityville Horror," "Paranormal Activity," even a more recent flick, "The Witch."
Let's look at 1973's "The Exorcist." People had to be warned of its frightening content before even entering the theater. Priests were brought in to bless projection rooms and audiences alike. Reports of fainting, vomiting, and a persistent feeling of dread circulated the media for months. There were even rumors of supernatural activity on the set. A testament to the efforts of terror, "The Exorcist" still stands high on lists of the scariest movies of all time, some forty years later.
Why is horror important, though? Why do people still flock to movies intended to make them jump and scream and sleep with the lights on?
Because, in this writer's opinion, horror showcases film's unique ability to elicit actual emotion better than any other genre. You may cry at the end of "The Notebook." You may quote "Anchorman" every night at dinner. But no movie will stay with you as long or as viscerally as that movie that scared you so bad you had to change your pants. Why?
Because the brain is amazing at retaining emotional information; none better than fear. We want to avoid having that emotion again, so our brains keep the context of that terror as fresh as possible in case that situation should arise again. When a horror movie is good, it continually slams us with this notion, challenging our attention and our resolve. That way the passive audience member becomes an active participant in the atmosphere of the film, furthering its cause and validating its subject matter.
Many people flat out refuse to watch horror movies. Reasons vary from general fear and anxiety to a pointed hatred of being subjected to gore or violence (which, it should be noted, is not something all horror movies share). I think those are the people horror is trying to reach. Film is not just about images and sound slammed together haphazardly, it's about making the audience experience something they otherwise would be unable to.
2014's "It Follows," the little-indie-that-could that smashed box office records to pieces, is a master class in this facet of horror. In an original script penned by the director himself and based on nightmares he experienced, the film takes us on a tense journey as an invisible force (is it a demon? a ghost? neither?) attempts to destroy our main character (i.e., the audience member). We are essentially dropped into this nightmare and treated to a visual and auditory feast, highlighted by nostalgic synth music. The film weaves a complex tale while simultaneously creating some of the most memorable scares in horror history.
They may not be Oscar winners or critical darlings. They may not always deal with social commentary as well as dramas or comedies. Hell, sometimes they may just be plain bad. But the fact remains that horror as a genre is here to stay, and if the recent years are any indication, it is a genre that only has more to give us.