The Bestest Scariest Campiest Worst Funniest and Most Lovable Horror Films of All Freaking Time

Posted on September 22, 2011 by Annie Neugebauer

Originally posted on October 31, 2010 at 12:09 AM

In honor of Halloween, a lot of scary movie lists have been floating around cyberspace. As both a Halloween fanatic and horror movie enthusiast, I feel like the “Top Horror Movies of All Time” and “Scariest Movies Ever Made” lists have it wrong, for the most part, because they try to shove everything into one list. In reality, movies can be scary, fun, graphic, campy, and/or in the “horror” genre, and those are vastly different things. So I made 7, yes 7, different lists for your reading pleasure and discrimination. (Disclaimer: as much as I wish I’ve seen every horror movie ever made, I haven’t. Please forgive if I left off one of your faves.) Enjoy.

Top 16 Scariest Movies

1. Paranormal Activity- understated chill fest. The only movie that can actually keep me up at night when I’m trying to sleep. (Plus, this movie gets bonus points for not relying on CGI for the spooks.)

2. The Shining- a classic, but the book is even better. Read it.

3. Texas Chainsaw Massacre- I like the new one.

4. The Exorcist- If you were raised in religion—especially Catholicism—this one will push your buttons.

5. Halloween- Classic jump-out-and-scare-you thrills.

6. 28 Days Later- Perhaps filled with less BOO moments, this movie is terrifying for its eerie scenes and moral implications.

7. Friday the 13th – Muy divertido.

8. Psycho- One of the first horror films kids are allowed to watch due to its black-and-white innocence, this movie’s beautiful cinematography and slow pace stick with you for years.

9. Quarantine- The best zombie movie I ever saw that I went into not knowing it was a zombie movie. Perhaps scary because it’s the most realistic movie on my list.

10. Rosemary’s Baby- Another oldie, this movie strikes a chord.

11. Nightmare on Elm Street- “It’s okay, sweety, Mommy killed him.” ‘Nuff said.

12. Alien- Tension, suspense, and a set so dark you can’t see the monster until he’s right on top of you. Plus, Sigourney Weaver strips to her undies at the end, and apparently people think she’s hot (I don’t get it).

13. The Silence of the Lambs- A truly terrifying psychological thriller.

14. The Omen (1976)- Creepy-ass kid. Viscous graveyard dogs. Worked for me.

15. Dawn of the Dead (1978 )- Scarier than the new one because the zombies still walk, and somehow, much more beautifully gory.

16. Night of the Living Dead (1968 ) Black and white, slow, well-turned, and lovely. Not to mention really freakin creepy.

Top 5 Overrated “Scary” Movies

1. Jaws- Okay, I know it made a huge splash when it was new, but come on. We’re over that now, aren’t we? Haven’t you seen Shark Week???!

2. The Ring- The beginning of a long line of American films that rip off Japanese horror.

3. The Grudge- See above.

4. I am Legend- The book is so much better. The ending of this movie was a cop-out. Plus, those lions and vamps are the worst CGI I’ve ever seen.

5. Cloverfield- Not. Scary. At. All. (or good)

Top 3 Underrated/ Overlooked Scary Movies

1. Wait Until Dark- Best climax scene in a horror movie, possibly ever. The innocence of this age made scary movies work hard for their frights, and this one did. Plus, Audrey Hepburn is charming as the heroine.

2. Session 9- Low budget, predictable, but with a few scenes I will ALWAYS remember.

3. Drag me to Hell- This newer movie is a delightful throwback to the campy horror movies of yore.

3 ‘Horror’ Movies that are Great but not that Scary

1. Let the Right One In- poignant, beautiful, haunting, but not scary.

2. The Fly- fun, campy, and gross, but not scary.

3. Seven- wonderful, sick, and a masterpiece of the detective thriller genre, but not scary.

4 Movies that Aren’t Supposed to be Scary but Are

1. Earaserhead- Oh. My. God.

2. Pan’s Labyrinth- I nearly peed myself.

3. Snow White and the Seven Dwarves- The Disney version is a bit disturbing too, but I’m talking about the made-for-TV real live actors version we VHSed when I was a kid. That shit is effed up!

4. Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory (1971)- tunnel scene.

4 Awesomely Bad Horror Movies

1. Bleeders- I’ve never laughed so hard at the poor quality of a movie. An albino Johnny Depp look-alike finds out he’s related to inbred royalty monster that live under an island. The last line *spoiler* is, and I quote: “John was reunited with the Van Dam family, and he found that he too had a twin, and although his sister could make love to herself, she welcomed her long lost brother, and loved him too.” How could you NOT want to watch that?

2. The Asylum?- I wish I could find the title of this awesomely bad flick, but I can’t pin it down. Low budget, predictable, hilarious. The best scene is when one guy opens the fridge, is decapitated, and the killer gets ketchup-blood squirted all over his ghost-style sheet frock. Darn.

3. The Blob- So, so bad. Ah, the innocence.

4. The Saw Franchise- Unapologetic, disgracefully conniving, high-budget cheese.

And 1 Just Plain Bad Horror

1. Mothman Prophecies- Not good enough to be good; not bad enough to be funny. Please, oh please, don’t ever see this piece of crap.

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How to Give Critique (with poise)

Posted on September 22, 2011 by Annie Neugebauer

Originally posted on September 10, 2010 at 3:18 PM

This is a sister post to my blog, How to Accept Critique (with poise). This is not a blog about the mechanics of what to watch out for (characterization, dialogue, adverb use, etc.). If that’s what you’re looking for, there are plenty of wonderful articles out there about the nuts and bolts of good writing and how to spot them—just Google it. This is a blog about the less talked-about aspects of what makes a critiquer useful.

Don’t you hate it when bloggers use clichés? Me too. Sorry. The golden rule: do unto others as you would have them do unto you. Now, I don’t know that I want anyone doing things unto me, but I am amazed by how many people don’t give critique as they would like to receive it. This includes actually giving critique. If you go to a critique group, receive everyone’s suggestions, and don’t offer any advice or opinions in return… well, you’re a jerk. A drain. You’re the vampire. Knock it off. (Don’t give me that, “but I’m no expert” crap. Every opinion has use-value.)

That said, there is perhaps something better than the golden rule. Because truly, different people have different ideals of how they would like to receive critique. Person A might want you to cut to the chase, give them the worst of it, and leave your happy comments in the margins. Person B might want you to be gentle, start off easy, and help them build their confidence. Both are perfectly acceptable, except for when Person A treats Person B his/her ideal way and makes him/her cry. Get it? So let’s call it the platinum rule: Do unto others as they want you to. Doesn’t have quite the same ring to it, does it?

Nonetheless, it does speak to my most useful suggestion: find a good critique group and stick to it. Part of what makes a good critique group run like clockwork are those who I call “the regulars.” No, this has nothing to do with fiber. These are the folks that are there week after week, month after month, year after year, participating fully and getting to know each other and each other’s writing like their own family members. This is particularly useful if one or more members are bringing in longer stories and novels chapter by chapter. It’s hard to critique something in the middle of a complicated plot, so reading previous sections really helps. (It also saves time to not have to give a long backstory each week.)

Another benefit to knowing your fellow members well is that you learn their skill levels. The platinum rule practically demands this, because there’s little use in editing for grammar if a writer is struggling with basic plot structure. To be the most useful to him/her, you really need to know where they stand in the spectrum. Novice, intermediate, professional? Critique accordingly. That might seem “biased,” but it is all about being the most useful to each individual writer that you can be. This means that your critique style should change according to the person and material being critiqued. Every. single. time.

Finally, a word about courtesy. To be a decent critiquer, you have to respect the other members of the group and their work, even if it’s not up your alley. This means turning off your phone, spitting out your gum, not talking socially during someone else’s time, not reading a book, and not leaving early. Everybody has days you need to come late or leave early. It happens; it’s life. But on those days, be considerate and don’t ask for critique. If you can’t return the favor to everyone else, it’s rude to ask them to work for you. And it should go without saying, but never, never make your suggestions personal or about anything other than the piece of work at hand.

If you follow these tips, you’ll be well on your way to being a key member in your critique group in no time. Happy critiquing!

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What IS Publication?

Posted on September 22, 2011 by Annie Neugebauer

Originally posted on July 15, 2010 at 9:12 PM

I have recently been intertwined in a debate over what, exactly, constitutes publication. I won’t bore you with the exact details of the scenario. To sum up: I won first place in a national poetry contest. The poem I won it with had been previously used in the Merging Visions Exhibit that DPA participates in every year. This exhibit displays artwork and poetry as pairings on the wall of the public libraries. Some people outside of DPA–whose understanding as a group was that the exhibit did NOT count as publication—took issue with this. They said that the exhibit counted as publication and that I should be disqualified as winner because of it.

Well! Happy ending is that I get to keep my 1st place spot. *hooray* But the committees for two different poetry organizations now have to specifically define and pin down their definition of “published.” So, it got me thinking: what makes publication publication? Here are the rules, word for word, from the above-mentioned contest guidelines:

“Any poem submitted must be the original work of the contestant, unpublished in any form, including electronically, not under consideration or accepted for publication. (Award will be recalled if a winning poem is found to be in violation of rules before publication in the NFSPS anthology of prize poems, and lower prizes and honorable mentions will move up in classification.)”

So, is hanging a single copy of a poem on a wall in a public library “publication”? The term means different things to different people. On the one hand, the root word of publication is public, from the Latin publicus, akin to Latin populous: people. So you might argue that anything that has been put in front of the public (the general people) has been published. So if I leave my diary open for anyone to look at in the middle of Walmart, it has been published? Really? Can I list that on my writer’s bio? “Publication credits include my personal diary, 2010.”

Well, no. Because obviously, there is a breakdown somewhere between what constitutes something just being viewed and something being published. Root words are just that: roots. Time changes meaning; little trees grown into vast ones, or big trees get struck by lightning to get split and branched into new directions entirely. So what is published now?

My argument is that to be “published,” something must be intentionally put before the general populous with the intent to be distributed. That’s the key: distributed. A book is “published” because someone can buy a copy and take it home. A newsletter is published because it is mailed out to people and they can retain it. A website is published because (it is intended that) people can print it out, email it, and generally share it. An oral reading isn’t published, because the audience can’t reread it later. A poem hung—as a single copy—on a wall in a public library is not published, because the viewers cannot keep a copy, take it home, or send it to anyone. Catch my drift?

Now I’m ’bout to click “Publish Post” on this blog, and I’ll agree with that. Hup! That goes on the resume… 😉

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Creative License

Posted on September 22, 2011 by Annie Neugebauer

Originally posted on May 27, 2010 at 4:15 PM

Laurell K. Hamilton has talked before about how important research is when you write fantasy, because if you’re asking your readers to believe this crazy, magical stuff, everything that they know to be true has to be accurate. If you’re describing a police investigation and they catch a flaw, she argues, it will make them less trusting when you describe your werewolf’s social hierarchy. You have to sound like you know what you’re talking about—with every aspect, possible or not.

I think this is a wonderful point, not only for fantasy but for all fiction. All writing, even. Whether I am so enamored with heavy research before a project because of this advice or coincidentally, I don’t know, but I am. I find it incredibly frustrating when I can’t track down a fact that I need to describe a scene accurately. In my opinion, creative license is what you do with characters’ personalities and plot, not real locations, time periods, or details that could be true. I’m not saying I’m perfect; I’m sure there are and will be some facts I accidentally skew or miss altogether, but I can assure you that I am trying my utmost not to.

I’ll give you an example from the gothic novel I’m writing right now. Windows play an important role in my story, together as atmosphere setting devices, metaphors for deeper meaning, and plot tools. My novel takes place in 1603. So, before I jumped right in and wrote it, I had to make sure of some things. Did they have glass back then? Did they have stained glass? Did you have to be rich to have it? How was it made and how common were windows glassed-off instead of pane-less?

Because believe it or not, there are a lot of people out there that actually know the answers to these questions off the tops of their heads. There are glass makers, architecture students, antique collectors, and more, and they would all immediately notice if I put glass before glass existed, or used it incorrectly. I don’t want to bump these people of out of my story; I want to draw them in. If they stop trusting my words when I get to the first window, how will they ever believe Plot Turn A, which actually is a little incredible? I mean, they want to, because they picked up my book, but I have to give them cause to. I have to do the work, not just the play.

When someone picks up a fiction novel, they are already agreeing to suspend disbelief to some degree. This story never really happened; they know that. And whether or not it could have happened, they want to forget that it didn’t as they read. They want to be pulled in so deeply that the impossible registers as factual in their imagination. So it’s my job to get it right—not to knock you out of the story in puzzlement or doubt. Because if you’re willing to take that leap of faith and buy my book, you (hopefully), as my potential reader, better be able to believe it.

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Four Classic Gothic Novels: a review of Vathek, Otranto, Udolpho, and The Monk

Posted on September 22, 2011 by Annie Neugebauer

Originally posted on May 19, 2010 at 5:50 PM

Many people are fascinated by the dark allure of the gothic genre, like myself. Usually drawn in by modern spins such as Rebecca, Wuthering Heights, and Jane Eyre, we find ourselves wanting to go back in time to trace the origins of these thrilling stories. I have done so, and if you’re interested in pursuing the “forefathers” of modern-day horror, here’s what you should know—blunt, honest, and simple.

Vathek by William Beckford, 1782

Subtitled, “An Arabian Tale,” this is sometimes credited as “the first” gothic novel. Quite frankly, it sucks. It is excruciatingly drawn-out, and reads more like a list of random, supernatural oddities than a novel. There are no emotions, no characters one can become invested in, and no details to make the story interesting. There is no hinting or mystery, only recounting in straight-forward terms the over-the-top occurrences that fall one after the other so quickly that if you don’t understand one you might as well move on to the next. It is one of four books in my entire life that I found unworthy of finishing.

The Castle of Otranto by Horace Walpole, 1764

More generally the consensus as the first gothic novel–written in English. (Vathek was translated from French.) This novel isn’t really worth your time, either, although infinitely better than Vathek. It is very short, so if you just want to be able to say you’ve read it, it won’t take you long to check it off your list. The sentences are long and muddling, and the dialogue isn’t separated with new lines or even quotation marks from the rest of the prose, so it can be rather tiresome to make sense of. I’d have to Wikipedia it to remember any of the characters’ names, which tells you how little I cared about them.

One thing I can say for it: it is a clear predecessor to the gothic genre, and that’s kind of cool. My suggestion: read a summary. Also, read the cool facts about Walpole’s life, house, and obsessions. A better story than the novel itself, if you ask me.

The Mysteries of Udolpho by Ann Radcliffe, 1794

I actually enjoyed this book quite a bit, but it’s not for a reader who dislikes “old” prose. The sentences are lengthy and wandering, as are the numerous descriptions of scenery. I believe there are abridged versions available that cut out these unnecessary wanderings, and having only read the original version, I would recommend giving one of those a try—especially if your goal is just entertainment.

The story is good. The characters are emotional and relatable in comparison with the two novels above, and the atmosphere is fantastic. There is mystery and suspense. For the average reader, I would recommend starting here as the birth of the gothic novel, and perhaps with an abridged version.

The Monk by Matthew Gregory Lewis, 1796

Fantastic. Juicy. Detailed but still succinct (there are few aimless wanderings like with Radcliffe). A wonderful read and by far the best novel of these four. It made shockwaves during its time for the scandalous content, and even now, it’s not for the innocent. Several times I found myself surprised by how modern it seemed in its refusal to back down to the graphic, grotesque, and profane.

One thing that might throw some readers: the elements of unexplainable supernatural. Radcliffe uses the “explained supernatural” in her story, which gives us the chills without the doubts. Lewis has no such qualms; you’d better be willing to suspend disbelief before you crack open this bad boy. But if you want good entertainment in the classic gothic style, go for The Monk.

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