Contending with the Creeps

Fear. Henry Peach Robinson. Public domain image via Metropolitan Museum of Art and Wikimedia Commons. I keep subjecting myself to scary movies, in spite of the fact that the long-lasting and excessive fright they induce is just plain ridiculous. I mean look, I’m ostensibly so advanced in maturity that the AARP wants my name on its roster; you’d think by now, especially with all the film theory I’ve imbibed, I would’ve learned to handle predictable tropes and tricks and ceased cowering under the covers with people who can be forgiven their terror because their brains are still forming. Nope. A few years ago, I devoured everything I could find about ghost- and folklore, the psychology of paranormal belief, somatic factors that contribute to hallucinations, etc. Learning all about, say, the ways sleep paralysis can toy with you did indeed lead to my being much better able to handle the fear worms any number of directors tried to implant in viewers’ brains. For a good few years, in fact,…