(electronic music)
- (Jared) Hey, Wisecrack. Jared here. Hollywood’s a tricky business. Audiences’ tastes constantly shift
over time. A genre that is popular in one moment can run out fashion a second later. But there is
one thing you can always count on: people love to be scared. That’s why no matter the decade,
horror films have been a constant fixture in cinema -- from the Universal monsters of the 30s
to the slashers of the 80s and 90s to the so-called ‘torture porn’ of the early aughts.
Horror today, though, isn’t necessarily categorized by masked killers or monsters.
Instead, it’s become mostly synonymous with one company:
Blumhouse. Since 2007, Blumhouse has revitalized the genre with hit
after hit like Paranormal Activity, The Purge, Get Out, Us, and many more.
Their films have pushed horror into uncharted territory, gaining both commercial and critical
success. Hell, many have even labeled this current period, “The Golden Age of Horror.”
On the surface, Blumhouse’s films all appear to be different - running the
gamut from ghost stories to slashers to socio-political commentaries.
- I would've voted for Obama for a third term if I could.
- (Jared) Producer & CEO of Blumhouse, Jason Blum even stated that he’s always
been conscious of not repeating himself. He said, ““Wearing my entrepreneur’s hat,
I’m very conscious of not falling into a pattern... The tenets of the company are the
same but the kinds of things that we’re doing are very very different than 10 years ago.”
But the secret sauce of Blumhouse’s success might actually be rooted in being cheapskates.
According to Blum, the company’s only real pattern is an economic one. Unlike other studios which
pour tens or hundreds of millions of dollars into a single film, Blumhouse tries to makes
sure each film costs no more than five million. By being so budget conscious, Blumhouse has,
strangely enough, stumbled into making some of the most insightful commentary on a basic
part of American life: the home. Let’s find out how in this Wisecrack Edition on How Blumhouse
Changed Horror. And spoilers ahead for Blumhouse greats like Paranormal Activity, Insidious,
Sinister, Get Out, Halloween and Us.
- (Jared) Since Blumhouse needs to keep their costs low, most of their films are set in a
single-location and shot in one of the cheapest, easiest places a filmmaker can find: A house.
Money aside, most horror films have focused on the opposite,
showing what happens when people leave their home. Just look at
some of the most popular horror films before Blumhouse arrived on the scene.
In the 1960s, a young woman left home, seeking safety in a creepy motel with great amenities.
(Screams)
- (Jared) In the 1970s, a group of teens went on a road trip only to face off against…
this beautiful family. In the 1980's, a family leaves home to become caretakers at a hotel,
only to be haunted by clear building code violations [] In the 90s, some teen vloggers
ventured into the woods in search of a witch and things didn’t go much better.
- I'm so sorry.
- (Jared) And in the early aughts, a bunch of horny college students
went overseas only to end up… well, you can probably guess.
The template in all these films is the same: a group of attractive people go on a road trip or
camping or overseas AND typically die in the most horrific fashion possible. The message:
if only everyone just stayed home, then nothing bad would happen.
In these films, homes are often depicted as safe havens, a refuge from the horrors of the outside
world. In the midst of terror, characters will often remark how they just wish they could be
home or talk about what they’re going to do when they get back to their ‘real lives.’
- I want to go home please! - I want to go home.
- And I'm just very hungry and I'm very tired. And I'm very scared and I just want to go home ok?
- (Jared) There are exceptions to this rule, of course, but the two notable ones are the genres of
the haunted house and the home-invasion. A typical haunted house film focuses on, well - of course,
a house. In these films, a group of people either knowingly or unknowingly move into a
haunted structure. The houses in these films DON’T represent safety and security -- they
are unknown spaces that we know from the start will doom yet another set of hopeless fools.
And in the home invasion horror genre, an outside force - most often a killer - threatens the
domestic stability of a family, stalking and then attacking them in their home.
The family must then ward off their intruders, like an unwanted vermin,
and re-establish the home as a beacon of safety.
These films often end with the killer being literally expelled from the house.
And the closing shot is frequently a wide-shot of the house - the sun coming up in the distance,
showing the horror is over and everything is safe once more.
Thus ultimately the point of these films is to restore the sanctity of the home.
However, Blumhouse subtly began to shift how horror films depict homes,
in the process redefining both the haunted house, the home invasion genre, and horror
as a whole. Take their breakout hit: 2007’s Paranormal Activity. Unlike the typical haunted
house film which focuses on a creepy, gothic, and foreboding home Paranormal Activity’s house is,
well, completely ordinary. There’s nothing spooky or creepy about the way it's portrayed. In fact,
the early scenes of the film go out of the way to do the opposite, painting the most
idealistic portrait of the home possible. In the opening scene, Micah films around his house,
capturing a shot of his girlfriend returning home, which reveals their lovely suburban neighborhood.
In these early scenes, the camera lingers on furniture and decor,
like we’re in an episode of MTV’s Cribs.
And the exact same thing happens in Paranormal Activity 2: The sequel opens with the family
recording everything in their house for the posterity of their newborn. Yet again
it’s a Crib’s episode come to life -- the camera showing off the open kitchen,
the white sofas, another huge-ass TV, and let’s not forget -- a jacuzzi.
Both Paranormal Activity films take time to show just how pristine
these homes are -- they are the quintessential beacons of a safe upper-middle class life. But,
of course, not everything is as it seems. A demonic entity haunts both households,
though the first signs of it present as common household disturbances.
(Rumbling)
- (Jared) In the opening scene of Paranormal Activity, Katie thinks that she hears something
strange. Could it be demonic? Nah, Micah dismisses the sound as just:
- The ice maker.
- (Jared) Ultimately, the Demonic entity escalates its attack,
making itself fully known by literally destroying the house. In Paranormal Activity, the Entity
cracks Micah and Katie’s photographs and scratches up their floors. And in Paranormal Activity 2,
the Entity completely destroys the house.
- The furniture's damaged... my daughter Ellie's room. Master bedroom. Yeah, so that's great.
- (Jared) Even worse -- there’s no way to get rid of it. Not even a renowned ghost
psychic can help Micah and Katie. He takes one step in the house -- and then, well:
- In fact I've got to get out of here, this thing is very aggravated.
- (Jared) The home simply isn’t safe anymore.
- I can't, I can't be here. I can't, let's go. Please let's go.
- (Jared) Paranormal Activity’s depiction of the home somewhat coincidentally reflects
the growing anxiety around housing in the lead up to the Great Recession. In 2007,
the housing bubble started to burst, as millions of American households with subprime loans found
themselves unable to pay their mortgage. That year alone, there were over 2.3 million
foreclosures. The homes people thought were their safe-havens suddenly became their undoing.
Per film historian James Stone, the Paranormal Activity films “track the gradual collapse of
the economic dream. The business of the demon is to lay waste to materialist splendor. Each
movie takes place in a sizable, well appointed home… And then it all comes crashing down.”
Stone goes on to cite Paranormal Activity 2 specifically. In the film,
one of the protagonists, Ali, discovers her family’s ancestors had made a bargain
to become wealthy by forfeiting the soul of their first-born son;
- What if Christie's great-grandmother made a deal with a demon so she could get rich?
- (Jared) However because the deal was never fulfilled -- the demon
stuck to the family until another son was born.
Thus the demon attacks because the family quite simply hasn’t paid their debt.
As Stone writes, “The demon is an agent of the recession
because he claims and destroys domestic space… And like a vindictive creditor,
the monster begins his campaign of terror after a deal is reneged upon.”
Blumhouse’s later films, Insidious and Sinister go even further, showing that
it isn’t just a singular home or family that is tainted… but potentially every household.
Insidious opens much like Paranormal Activity, depicting a seemingly ideal home… Yet the opening
credits show something’s wrong right from the outset. We see still-photographs of a beautiful
house, a family having just moved in; yet in many of the shots, pictures & chairs move on their
own. Sure enough, it’s not long before the family realizes they're in a haunted house.
- I'm scared of this house. There's something wrong with
this place. I'm not imagining it. I can feel it. It's like a sickness!
- (Jared) Faced with the prospect of being paranormally terrorized, the family does
the only sensible thing: they move. However, despite moving to a new home - nothing changes.
They begin to experience the same ghostly hauntings yet again.
It turns out that the family’s comatose son is a beacon for the supernatural world -- inviting
the ghosts into the physical realm. Thus, no matter where they go,
no home will ever be safe. Their house will always be haunted.
The same is true in Sinister: After true crime novelist Ellison Oswalt
discovers his new home may be haunted by a demonic entity,
he yet again does the seemingly sensible thing: getting the hell out.
Yet, as it turns out, the entity haunting the house - Bughuul-
is a demonic parasite that travels from home to home.
- Mr. Oswald, you just moved out of the last house in line. If this guy
is still out there you not only just sped up his timeline, you put yourself in it.
- (Jared) It’s only after a family moves that Bughuul is able to possess
the youngest to kill the rest of the family. Thus by moving,
Ellison has inadvertently placed himself and his family in mortal danger.
Both Insidious and Sinister reject the notion of a singular haunted house.
In the traditional haunted house film, as long as you escape the house,
you’re safe. However in both Insidious and Sinister, the haunting follows the
family. Fleeing does nothing to solve the problem and in fact may spell your doom.
And it’s not just the home, but the entire neighborhood that’s no longer safe. In the early
1980s and amid public concerns around crime rates, a new form of living began to sprout up across the
country: the gated community. In Ed Blakely and Mary Gail Snyder’s Fortress America, they detailed
how Americans were increasingly choosing to move to these supposedly safer communities.
As they write -- “Americans of all classes are forting up,
attempting to secure the value of their houses, reduce or escape from the impact of crime,
and find neighbors who share their sense of the good life.”
In The Purge, the logic of the gated community is made extreme - it’s no longer one’s secured
neighborhood that keeps one “safe” from “outsiders,” but an individual’s
house-turned-fortress. The Sandins live in an ideal bright Suburban neighborhood where everyone
knows your name. It’s the type of place where your neighbors even bake you homemade cookies.
The Sandin’s have a deluxe security system that is supposedly foolproof in protecting them from the
violence of the outside world. As such, the family believes they are completely safe on Purge night.
- I know bad things do happen tonight. But we can afford protection.
So we'll be fine just like always. No worries, ok?
- (Jared) However, the Sandins are so focused on protecting themselves from the outside world,
they fail to realize the actual threat is within their own community. It’s not some “other”,
it’s their neighbors -- the same that gave them delightful treats
The gated community of The Purge isn’t a safe haven from the outside world;
it’s the nexus from which violence originates. Similarly,
Get Out inverts the idea of “safe suburbs,” by opening with a black man,
a quote-unquote outsider, lost and scared amongst the white middle class affluence.
- They got me out here in this creepy,
confusing ass "suburb". (laughs) They're all so serious though. I feel like a sore thumb out here.
- (Jared) And sure enough -- his paranoia proves
right as he’s quickly abducted in the middle of all the perfectly cut grass,
matching driveways and brightly lit homes. Get Out does away with the very pretense of
‘safety in the suburbs.’ Instead, the suburban home is something to escape, to “get out” from.
When Chris arrives at his girlfriend's family home, he immediately notices something is wrong.
It may seem like the typical suburban ideal; but underneath, something is amiss. Chris sees that
the only black people in the house are servants and that they’re acting...off. Later, when there’s
a party at the house -- he realizes that nearly everyone there is white and staring at him.
- It's weird man, the people here too.
It's like they haven't met a black person that doesn't work for them.
- (Jared) Of course, it turns out Chris’ girlfriend is part of a weird
brain-transplanting cult, and Chris needs to kill each member of her household to finally ‘get out’.
In the end, Chris’s friend Rod surmises the entire film in one off-hand joke:
- I mean I told you not to go into the house.
- (Jared) Get Out and The Purge mark a shift in how Blumhouse
films present ‘the home’ -- whereas early Blumhouse films focused on how seemingly
idealistic homes and neighborhoods are no longer safe, corrupted by unseen monsters,
these later films present the home as symbiotic with the monster. It’s not that the Armitage
family has corrupted an otherwise nice suburb, their evil is one and the same.
In Jordan Peele’s follow-up, Us, The Wilsons, an upwardly mobile black family,
take a trip to their summer home in an upper-class beachside community.
And yet again something doesn’t feel right. But this time it isn’t that
everyone else is out to get them. It’s themselves, they have to worry about.
- I can't be here. It's... too much. It feels like there's this black cloud-
- (Jared) It’s not too soon thereafter that the family is attacked by their doppelgangers,
resentful of their other halves’ posh lifestyle.
- When the girl came, her food was given to her, warm.
The message behind Us boils down to: what does the dream of upward mobility, of suburban bliss,
actually mean for everyone else? Who gets to live in a house, and conversely,
who doesn’t? The literal real estate occupied by the Wilson family and others
means a caste of people are relegated to living “below ground,” outside of that dream.
The basic question the film posits: Are there casualties in our quest for the American dream?
The idea that homes can twist us beyond recognition,
like Adeleide forgetting she actually came from the underground, is a recurrent theme
in later Blumhouse films. In Get Out, if Chris stays with the Armitages in their home,
he will forever live in the sunken place. And in Blumhouse’s The Invisible Man,
Cecilia confides that she had to escape her home because she didn’t feel like herself
there -- under her abusive husband’s thumb, she was becoming a different version of herself.
- He controlled how I looked and what I wore, and what I eat.
- (Jared) Similarly, in Blumhouse’s Halloween sequel, Laurie’s daughter comments that she had
to get away from her mother and their house, lest she end up just like her.
- I've spent my entire life
trying to get over the paranoia and neuroses that she has projected on me.
- (Jared) Later, when Laurie kills Michael Myers, she does so not by expunging The
Boogey-Man from the home, but by trapping him inside-- the home now becomes a literal prison.
Just this year, Blumhouse released their latest film, You Should Have Left -- which
not so coincidentally is about a family trapped in a house which refuses to let them leave.
Somehow, Blumhouse has yet again tapped into the zeitgeist: in a time when people
are stuck self-isolating in their homes, this new film reflects these same fears.
From the company’s inception, Blumhouse has presciently reflected the current climate,
often spookily predicting what’s to come
- Blessed be our new founding fathers and America, a nation reborn.
- (Jared) From the economic crisis of the early aughts to today’s quarantine blues.
How has Blumhouse been so consistently on point -- is it just a result of their
cheapo business model or have they made some Faustian deal with the devil themselves?
- It has been said if a human makes a bargain with a demon for wealth,
power, or any other benefit they must forfeit their first born male.
- (Jared) Regardless, the result is the same -- Blumhouse has captured the American home like no
other, twisting the place in which we spend the most time... into our undoing.
So Wisecrack, what do you think? Has Blumhouse made you afraid of your house? Or do you foolishly
still sleep soundly at night? Let us know in the comments below. Huge thanks to our patrons for all
your support. Purge that subscribe button of its demons and, as always, thanks for watching. Peace.