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There’s a certain narrative element that’s often missing in horror stories. In fact, setting aside things like production value, acting, writing, the more obvious elements of any story, people will often talk about horror using the word “feel.” It didn’t “feel” scary. Halloween III, for all its campy fun, isn’t really scary. I Still What you Know Did Last Summer is infamous for its problems, one of which being it’s just not scary. =As a specialist in narrative theory, my job has always been to try and identify what that “feeling” is that audiences often say is lacking, and what I’ve found comes from the core of what horror is and where it came from.

Horror is tragedy. That is to say, all horror stories are tragic in nature. The opposite isn’t true, by the way: a tragic story isn’t of necessity horrific, but often has horror elements. Oedipus Rex, one of your oldest tragedies, has a man gouging out his own eyes.

This would fit right at home in a modern horror, and yet the story is distinctly not a horror. Shakesepare’s tragedies are filled with murder and other violence: in Macbeth, a wife and mother are slaughtered along with her children.

And yet, these are notably not horror stories. Tragedy is all about the dramatic consequences of a character flaw. Oedipus is prideful that he can solve any problem/riddle. Macbeth (and his wife) are ambitious. Their stories are all about the consequences of these flaws. Horror, on the other hand, is specifically about the suffering of people, not from a flaw, but from a mistake. And herein lies the often-missing element from horror.

One of the foundational themes of tragedy is fate vs. free will. Every tragic character suffers from their own actions, and yet, there is also a sense of inevitability to their suffering. Oedipus had a prophecy that he would kill his father and marry his mother. He leave home to avoid this, travels to an entire different kingdom, and on the way kills a man.

He then reaches a new city to find their king has been killed, and so Oedipus marries the queen. Uh-oh, turns out he was adopted. Prophecy fulfilled. Fate decided Oedipus would do these horrible things, but he had several chances on the way to walk a different path. Macbeth encounters the Weird Sisters, who predict that he will become king.

They don’t say how or when, though. Macbeth and his wife want that kingship now, so they murder King Duncan. The need to cover up this crime starts them on a tyrannical purge of Scotland. Although the Weird Sisters predicted Macbeth becoming king, it was the man himself (and his wife) who chose murder. This is the core of tragedy: everything bad that happens to you is somehow beyond your control and completely your fault. This paradox is also at the core of good horror, and absent from bad horror.

Halloween III centers on a plot to kill a whole bunch of kids. Jokes aside, this would be horrible, yes? Except, the story is essentially a murder-mystery. He investigates a death and gradually learns about this conspiracy about a pagan ritual that will kill a bah of children. Daniel Challis, our main character, makes not choice that brings on the suffering; it’s more his curiosity than anything else.

There’s nothing in the film binding him to the ritual. Contrast this with the original Halloween. Michael Myers stalks Laurie Strode for a good chunk of the film.

He kills her friends and gradually draws closer to her. All of this leans on the fate side, right? Laurie has no control over this, she didn’t do anything to draw Michael Myers in, right? Except she did. After Michael escapes the hospital, he sees Laurie leave a key at his hold house.

In Horror Studies, we call this “crossing the threshold.” Laurie is told the boogieman lives there and not to approach (that’s the Harbinger, by the way- the warning of danger). She decides to ignore the warning and approach the house. Michael sees her do this, and this attracts his attention. This is why Halloween feels scary whereas Halloween III often doesn’t. Laurie had a choice and made the wrong one. Had she not crossed the threshold, had she turned around and left, she never would have attracted Michael Myers’s attention. Thus, all her suffering is simultaneously her fault, and outside her control.

Think about the two I Know What you Did Last Summer movies. Yeah, I know there were more, but there were only two watchable ones. The first is a decent horror flick. Julie and her friends, in a night of drunken celebration, accidentally kill a man. They fear the consequences of their mistake, so they hide the body and otherwise cover up the crime.

This directly leads to the friends being murdered, one by one. In Horror Studies, by the way, this is called a Revenant- a murderous spirt who returns to right an injustice. The first I Know film feels scary because of the tragic nature of the characters’ suffering. Juilie and her friends made a mistake. They chose to hide that mistake. That choice led to a force beyond their control inflicting horrible suffering upon them. Now the sequel… ugh. The core of this film is the killer from the first setting a trap to kill the survivors.

Now, there is some vague tragic-lite quality to this: Julie makes the choice to go to that Caribbean island, falling into the trap. The problem is, tragedy requires EARNED suffering. Oedipus kills his father in a street fight. Macbeth murders King Duncan. Laurie Strode ignores the warnings about the boogie man. Julie helps cover up a crime. In each of these, the main character makes some action, some deliberate decision, that leads to the horrific suffering. In the first I Know film, Julie unquestionably earns the killings. She helped cover up a death. In the sequel, though, she’s already suffered for her crime; there’s nothing new. This is often a problem with horror sequels. Each new story needs a new “crime.” A new mistake made by the main character that initiates the main plot. Many writers are content just to rehash the exact same circumstances of the previous story. This is why horror sequels often feel derivative.

Not all tragedy is horror, but all horror is tragic. To accomplish this, the main character(s) must have a moment of choice. They must take a specific action (or fail to act), that initiates the main plot. After that, though, their suffering needs to be beyond their control. 2011’s The Cabin in the Woods is perhaps the best example of this narrative element. The group orchestrating the event overtly points out that the teens need to go into the basement, they must choose and object and invoke its power.

This must happen for the ritual to work. The two managers even say: “If they don’t transgress, then they can’t be punished.” Once the teens read the latin, once they’ve made that pivotal choice/action, then they essentially lose control of their lives.

They lose free will, and fate makes them suffer. This is what makes a story scary. Everything a character suffers is beyond their control, and yet somehow, directly their fault.

So, how am I following this genre-rule? My horror story opens with the group of characters approaching the asteroid in which the story will take place. They get all kinds of warnings. There are no communications with the asteroid. There is a strange ship already docked there. When they enter, all the doors are closed and locked. The computer logs indicate a sudden work stoppage. Pretty much everything but a big flashing sign saying, “DANGER, IDIOTS!!!” is warning them to leave. They chose to ignore this, however, and open the mine. Once they open that door, once they cross the threshold, fate takes over. Hilarity ensues.

This weekend, I’ll be at the Gunstock Mountain Resort 4th of July Fair. It’s both Saturday and Sunday, 10-5. The woodcarver will be there again with his chainsaw. Maybe we’ll see someone cross a threshold for a literal demonstration of horrific fate vs. free will. There’ll also be North River Music, food, and the attractions of the resort itself. They have zip lining and a mountain cart ride. I been hawkishly watching the weather report, and this blasted heat dome is supposed to end Friday night. It’ll be hot, but only normal New England hot. Next weekend, I’ll be back at the Brewster Academy in Wolfeboro for a three day festival.