EXPERTISE

EXPERTISE

5 surprisingly helpful thingsyou canlearn from horror films

This one is obvious:Whenyouwalk into a dark house, turn the lights on already. But there are othervaluable lessons lurking out there, somewhere, as these cinephiles point out.

Written by Liz Loerke Illustration by Ben Wiseman

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AVIVA BRIEFEL Listento your children’s fears.

Asaparent,youdealwith fearinsomany capacities. You haveyour ownworries aboutyourchild’ssafety, andyoualsohavetodeal withyour child’s fearsof everythingfromshotsto havinghermashed potatoes touchher greenbeans. Horror movies,whilecompletelysupernatural, teach ustotakethose concerns seriously.The2014Australianmovie TheBabadook comesto mind. It’s abouta single momand hersixyear-old son,whoisbeing hauntedbyamonster. Themomwrites it offasa “monsterunder thebed” fantasy. Of course,the Babadook turns outto be real.It servesasagood, ifextreme, reminderthat nomatterhow sillya child’sanxieties seem,the fearbehind themislegit.

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CHRIS NASHAWATY Mark anniversarieson your calendar.

Rememberinganniversaries:Sounds easy,right? But in horrormovies no onedoes it. In 1980’s Friday the 13th, a coupleofrandy counselorsgetbutcheredayear after lettingayoung boy namedJason Voorhees drown.Therestof themovie takesplace 21years later, on what wouldhave beenJason’sbirthday—yes,Fridaythe 13th—when anew batchof horny staffers winds up onthe bloodybusinessend ofa similar killing spree.Thedayproves lethalin thesequels aswell. Had they justlookedatacalendar,itallcould havebeenavoided.

AVIVA BRIEFEL,

PH.D., is a professor of English and cinema studies at Bowdoin College, in Brunswick, Maine.

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DAVID SCHWARTZ Preparation can saveyou unnecessary stress. I have avivid memory of seeing The Exorcist with my dadwhen Iwas 13.The filmwas huge that year—everybody was talking about it. I kept hearing how scary itwas, and Iwas petrified. So I bought the screenplay and took it with me to the theater. I actually kept the book open in the light of the aisle so I could read ahead and knowwhat was coming. Since then, I have found that it’s good to do research and be prepared beforeyou go into a new situation.

SCARED? There’s a biological reason why these movies are so visceral. Find it at realsimple.com/scary.

CHRIS NASHAWATY

is a film critic for Entertainment Weekly (which, like Real Simple, is a Time Inc. publication). He lives in Connecticut. THE EXPERTS

DAVID SCHWARTZ

is the chief curator at the Museum of the Moving Image, in Queens, New York.

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VICTORIA PRICE The worstmonsters are of our own making.

Mydad always said thatwhatwecan imagine inour minds isfar scarier thanwhat wesee on thescreen. I thinkthatisalso true inreallife.The fearsinourheadsare a million timesmore frighteningthanmost ofwhatactually happenstous.Infact, studieshaveshown that85percentof whatweare afraid of neveroccurs, sowe spendan inordinate amount oftimeworryingneedlessly.That’s why movieslike The Fall ofthe House of Usher, where youdon’t seeanythingoutright gory,arescarier.As Hamlet said,“There isnothingeither good orbad,but thinking makesitso.”

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DAVID FILIPI The importance of self-reliance.

Insomanyhorror movies, the protagonist ultimatelyhas to relyonly on herself. Rosemary’s Baby is a perfect example. Here isthiswoman whoseemingly has everything. Shelives ina lovelyapartment building;shehas whatappears to be a charming andambitioushusband;she’s surrounded by a support systemof neighbors. Butslowly shelearnsthatthe peopleshe depends onarethe onesmost outto hurther. Fortunately,most of us won’tfind ourselves livingamongSatanists. Butwehaveallbeen ina positionwhere someone wetrusted letusdown.Ultimatelyyouhaveto come toyour ownaid.

VICTORIA PRICE is the daughter of horror-film legend Vincent Price and the author of Vincent Price: A Daughter’s Biography. She lives in Santa Fe. DAVID FILIPI is the director of film/video at the Wexner Center for the Arts at Ohio State University, in Columbus.

Modern Manners

REAL SIMPLE’S ETIQUETTE EXPERT, CATHERINE NEWMAN, OFFERS HER BESTADVICE ON YOUR SOCIALQUANDARIES.

A coworker and I haveweddings a fewweeks apart. I am on her guest list; she is not on mine. If ourweddingwas larger, she would be, but that’s not the case. How do I handle this?

H.M.

Congratulations! And don’t worry too much about the asymmetry. If there’s anyone apt to understand the dramatic complexities of a weddingguest list, it’s your coworker. She may have invited 400 people to your 75; you may have been under different financial or familial constraints; she may have invited everyone from work and you not a sole office mate. Every couple gets to celebrate according to their own vision (or, at least, according to the vision of the bossiest in-laws). If there’s tension to dispel or you would like to preempt the dread of her discovering the missing invitation, feel free to describe your list’s limitations. If, however, the scenario is more conspicuously awkward— there’s a busful of folks coming from the office, say, and she’s just not one of them—then there’s not much to be done. We’re all trying our hardest not to hurt one another’s feelings, right? But this is grown-up life, not the tit-for-tat of inviting the whole class to a birthday party. Besides, she has plenty to celebrate, and newlywed bliss is bound to smooth any ruffled feathers.

About Catherine

The author of Catastrophic Happiness and Waiting for Birdy, Catherine Newman has shared her wisdom on matters ranging from family and friends to happiness and pickling in numerous publications. She gets advice from her husband and two opinionated children in Amherst, Massachusetts. What is the best way to decline when a cashier asks, “Would you like to donate to ‘X’ children’s cancer fund today?” I politely say, “Not today,” while feeling secretly guilty. To make matters worse, after I say no, my husband often makes a donation behind me because he is embarrassed.

K.C.

The best way to decline a request like this is to say, “No, thank you,” and leave it at that. That said, I tend to add a needless and sheepish qualifier,like “That’s not how we do our charitable giving” (true statement) or “Because I hate children!” (awkward attempt at humor). Checkout charities work because they know that you have your wallet open, and they’re guessing—correctly, it turns out—that you’ll feel bad about saying no. In many ways, it’s a win-win scenario: The store gets to look like a hero, and charities raise a lot of money. (A 2015 marketing study found that the 77 top-earning checkout charities raised more than $388 million combined.) But charitable donors have limited resources, and some, like me, insist on researching causes. I consult the watchdog organization CharityWatch to find out exactly how the money is being spent and to what end, and I allocate carefully to the causes I care most about. Of course, if you’re not otherwise giving charitably, then those supermarket dollars make an easy introduction to the practice. But if you don’t want to participate, don’t. Trust me—nobody is thinking,

You don’t like the Jimmy Fund? As for your husband, that seems like a separate issue. It might be worthwhile to come to an agreement about your donation policy and to have a conversation about how his secondary play is making you feel.

My father and stepmother are both smokers. Recently they purchased a camper and said that they want to take my nine-year-old son on a trip next summer. I told my dad that that is unlikely because of their smoking. He said that they won’t smoke in the camper. But they do smoke outside and in my son’s line of vision, though not directly beside him. Also, they reek of smoke, so any space they inhabit reeks, too. My husband and I both feel that the health dangers are too great to allow our son to go away with them on a trip in a camper. How can I begin the dialogue with my dad now so that this doesn’t come as a surprise?

E.L.

Confession: After researching the dangers of third-hand smoke— the residue that accumulates on surfaces where people have been smoking—I read your letter to my husband. I said, “If they’re not smoking inside the camper, it doesn’t seem to me as if third-hand smoke would pose a serious health threat for a short trip.” He (child of a smoker) replied, “It may or may not, but that doesn’t really matter. The smell is gross, the habit is dangerous, and they just don’t want their kid around it. They get to decide that.” He is, of course, completely right. So go with transparency. “I love that you’re trying to figure out a way to spend quality time with your grandchild, but the smoking is still a deal-breaker for us. I’m so sorry.” Explain your worries and, if it’s feasible, propose an alternative scenario. You and your son could meet them for a leg of the trip and stay in a nearby motel, say, or you could find another, less enclosed way for them to vacation together. Or maybe—pipe-dream alert!— confronted with the unpleasant consequences of their habit, they’ll decide to quit. We can hope, right?

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