Exploring Childhood Trauma in Horror Films

In the opening scene of Steven Spielberg’s autobiographical drama The Fabelmans, a young boy named Sammy is deeply disturbed by a train crash he watches in a movie. Though the wreck isn’t real, the footage from The Greatest Show on Earth becomes a haunting memory for Sammy, a child who sees it through innocent eyes. This trainwreck symbolizes the disruptive events in Sammy’s life, particularly his parents’ deteriorating marriage. Spielberg uses this scene to illustrate the therapeutic power of cinema, showing how re-enacting and filming the model train crash helps Sammy manage his fears. This method reflects how horror cinema can serve as an outlet for an artist’s internal struggles and demons.

The influence of familial dynamics and personal trauma is at the core of Longlegs, a horror feature by Oz Perkins, son of Psycho star Anthony Perkins. Distributed by Neon, the film is touted as a serial killer thriller akin to Silence of the Lambs and Se7en. Yet, beneath its 90s setting lies a deeply unsettling and intricate psychological exploration. In a recent interview, Perkins revealed that he chose the year 1993 for its personal significance, as his father had passed away from AIDS the previous year. This film, like Spielberg’s, draws from personal anguish, transformed through fictional narratives.

Much like the cryptic serial killer known as Longlegs taunts law enforcement with mysterious hieroglyphics, Perkins communicates through symbolic imagery that evokes deep-rooted fears. Horror legend Wes Craven once remarked that the primary monster one must confront is oneself. Perkins traps his audience within a psychological labyrinth, haunted by a boogeyman reminiscent of a childhood fear beyond comprehension.

Authenticity in horror sometimes requires an artist to lay bare their personal struggles. While psychological horror often features themes of mental unease, the most compelling stories delve deep into personal introspection. For instance, the 1981 film Possession takes on new significance when one knows director Andrzej Żuławski channeled his frustration over his divorce and emigration from Poland into the film. Similarly, Joshua John Miller’s The Exorcism incorporated his father’s real-life experiences acting in The Exorcist and battling alcoholism as its foundation.

With its cryptic narrative and layered symbolism, Longlegs occupies an unsettling space, where subtext is both apparent and elusive. Perkins begins the film with an evocative scene shot with rounded corners and a tight aspect ratio, invoking the feel of a family home video from hell. On her birthday, young Lee Harker (Lauren Acala) encounters Longlegs (Nicolas Cage). This traumatic encounter leaves a lasting psychological impact, which resurfaces when Lee, now an FBI agent played by Maika Monroe, begins to uncover truths about her past.

Freud’s concept of the “primal scene”, where children misinterpret their parents’ sexual activity as violence, finds a parallel in Lee’s experience. Her childhood encounter with Longlegs shapes her development and perception of the world, much like a primal scene would.

This leads to pondering whether Perkins’ own “primal scene” might have been his first viewing of his father’s film, Psycho. The similarities between Longlegs and Norman Bates are evident, including Cage’s performance as Longlegs, which seems influenced by Norman’s mannerisms. Longlegs’ actions strike at the core of family relationships, aiming to annihilate the bonds between parent and child, a theme that resonates deeply with Perkins’ personal experiences.

Perkins realized early on that the true dynamics within a family are often unknowable to outsiders. This understanding came from learning about his father’s closeted homosexuality and his attempts at conversion therapy, despite being supported by his wife. This complexity of familial relationships is echoed in the third-act revelation of Longlegs’ dark deeds. Yet, at the heart of this film lies an enigmatic metal sphere, representing an impenetrable, pure evil. This object draws viewers back to a child’s perspective, sensing ominousness in the adult world without full comprehension.

While definitive conclusions may be elusive, films like Longlegs thrive on open interpretation. The beauty of art lies in how it reveals aspects of its creators to the audience. Perkins’ exploration of familial sins and personal traumas provides a distinct identity to his works. In Longlegs, much like his previous films, these themes are paramount, reflecting the lingering specters of familial influence that never truly fade away.

Source: The Guardian