Horror movie tropes are a funny thing.
On the one hand, they’re sort of comforting. Like an old friend, showing up to chat and have a beer. Familiar. Enjoyable in the way that nostalgic memories are enjoyable, regardless of whether or not the truths found in those recollections hold any weight decades later.
On the other, they can be distracting. Uninventive. Tired. Leaned on by lazy storytellers more interested in making a buck than giving their audience something new.
Still, the horror genre is one that is steeped in its own histories, constantly referencing, reinventing and reinvigorating its most common thematic elements and strategies. Being a horror fan is often a combination of seeking out that next, new thing while always being drawn back to the sorts of common place conceits that made you fall in love with the genre in the first place.
The 2000s brought with it an interesting shift in the horror genre. Torturous, graphic horror rose, while studios invested millions in reinventing many of the supernatural titles that Japan was producing so successfully. As the remake market picked up steam, studios began reinterpreting American titles, bringing a glut of classic properties back to the big screen with new, glossy versions chocked full of hip, young stars.
When all was said and done, upwards of fifty-plus remakes emerged from the horror genre during the oughts and there was a feeling of fatigue amongst the fans. However, in that time, some new filmmakers and voices also emerged (like Adam Green’s Hatchet (2006) or Scott Glosserman’s Behind the Mask: The Rise of Leslie Vernon (2006)), commenting on the state of the genre and helping to guide its course. Many of these came from the independent world, adopting a self-referential, meta tone bent on simultaneously celebrating and deconstructing the tropes horror fans knew and loved.
And there I was, a relatively new horror fan, finally several years into my intended conquest of the genre. I had seen a decent amount of films by then (the big ones, as I naively used to say) and I was feeling the obvious fatigue the mainstream genre was experiencing. However, it was that gnawing feeling which only served to enhance my excitement when I first laid eyes on the trailer to The Cabin in the Woods (2011).
Everything was there: attractive teenage/twenty-something hybrids, a summer vacation in an effort to get-away-from-it-all and, of course, a creepy cabin with all the off-putting decor one has come to expect out of a movie of this ilk. But also— it was different. There were office workers. What looked like a SWAT team. A strange, holographic honeycomb… force field.. thing.
I couldn’t wait to see it. I went opening weekend and from frame one, I was hooked. Excited. I was witnessing a masterclass in genre exploration. The perfect answer to the studio remake.
That’s what the best meta-horror accomplishes. It reinterprets the tropes of the genre and uses them to create something new in the process. And while a great deal in the film represents this quality, little represents it better than the scene in the facility beneath the cabin when all Hell breaks loose.
The full sequence goes on for several minutes, showing the breadth of the creatures on display and the scope of the facility. However, the few seconds surrounding the opening of the elevator doors makes a statement, providing horror fans with everything they’ve always wanted: a veritable waterfall of creatures, both borrowed and newly envisioned, wreaking havoc in an altogether uninhibited way. And although the components may generally be drawn from the past tropes of the genre, the sum of its parts is unlike anything that had ever been seen before.
Joss Whedon and Drew Goddard crafted a conversational script that translates beautifully to a film that feels personalized and lived-in. On the page, the text bounces between the bombastic and the more grounded, human elements that allow the proceedings to speak so effectively to horror fans. On the screen, Goddard carries the words into a scene where chaos erupts in the pristine, polished hallways in the place underneath the old cabin with terror, humor and a blunt sensibility that mirrors the straight-forward style of the script.
Exciting, hilarious and terrifying, the few moments which proceed the opening of those elevator doors etched into the horror consciousness the second they hit the screen and will forever stand as one of cinema’s more fantastic exclamations of horror.
THE SCENE
Marty slams the door behind him as he crouches down beside Dana. Dana’s eyes dart around the small work station in desperation. She spots a button marked “SYSTEM PURGE” and, after a moment of deliberation, pushes the button. An army of guards awaits them outside the room, but they stop when they hear the elevators activating. A loud DING sounds as the doors slide open. Terrible creatures emerge from each door, decimating the men before them in an explosively bloody encounter. A second team approaches moments later to find the room a dark, bloody shadow of what it once was, just as a loud DING signifies the next crop of approaching horrors.
THE SCRIPT
THE SCREEN
Marty slams the door behind him, looking stricken and at the end of his rope. He’s brandishing a gun but certainly not wearing the confidence associated with such a weapon. The frame moves quickly over to Dana as Marty joins her, crouched beneath a large console. That’s when the glass overlooking the hallway lined with elevator doors is struck by a barrage of bullets.
All of this plays out identically to what is scripted. The words on the page seem to mirror the immediacy on the screen, reading like the thoughts of the characters as opposed to the voice of an omniscient narrator.
Marty looks up: the lobby is full of approaching guards — SWAT-looking guys who keep a steady pound of bullets coming.
The image cuts back and forth somewhat chaotically as a group of riot-gear clad security officers meticulously make their way toward Marty and Dana’s hiding place, firing relentlessly. In the control room, Dana stares desperately around the space and notices a large spot on the control panel labeled “SYSTEM PURGE”. In the script:
Dana looks at the console in here, realization dawning on her:
ANGLE: THE CONSOLE controls all the elevators. And there’s a button that says “PURGE”.
The in-story character logic employed in the screenplay is a bit unorthodox if not non-existent. There is nothing physically represented or mentioned to suggest what it is the controls will do, or the leap of understanding that if the controls are tied to the elevators, the activation of the red switch followed by hitting the “PURGE” button will unleash the creatures.
However, when viewed through the lens of the tropes the movie is playing with, the logic is sound. Perhaps even obvious. The way the moment is scripted is spectacularly in line with the genre and the necessary arrangements for the film to reach its grandiose third act conclusion.
The film adds a moment of pause to communicate the sense of “realization” the script mentions, cutting to monitors which again depict the creatures at play (zombies, evil twins, monsters and white hooded figures all appear in separate elevators ominously). While this does make the leap of faith more narratively satisfying, it also draws attention to the only satisfying outcome of the introduction of an army of monsters— their unleashing.
The intercutting continues as the army moves closer, Marty and Dana nodding to one another as Dana finally flips the switch and says: “Let’s get this party started”. The image cuts to the guards, ceasing fire as a loud BUZZ signifies the activation of the elevators.
In the hall, the sound of the elevators is audible.
The camera moves around the masked men as they listen to the mechanical movement in the distance. The calm is odd and filled with uncertainty, an unsettling absence of sound when considering the clinging bullets that had filled the space just seconds before.
The inversion of power is so quick, so palpable that despite their weaponry and protective gear, the army suddenly feels incredibly vulnerable. The moment serves to comment on the raw power of the genre the film is operating within and the lack of control present at all times, regardless of the circumstance. The feeling in the script is represented by: there’s a moment of quiet. In the film, this is encapsulated with the last guard shown before the doors open, his eyes barely visible behind his visor as he says the unscripted line: “Oh shit.”
ANGLE: DOWN THE HALL.
We can see every elevator door open, but not what’s inside. Another moment as the men between turn to look.
This single sentence contains a great deal of nuance. It’s simple and accomplishes the message to the reader that while there is certainly a beat of pause, a storm is most certainly coming.
The image cuts to a healthy wide shot of the hallway, all of the guards are visible in front of all eight elevator doors (four on either side). Gone are the chaotic intercutting close up shots, instead leaving the viewer with a brightly lit view of everything of interest, laid out neatly across the frame. A slightly counter-intuitive perspective in horror and one calling attention to the uncouth nature of placing creatures on full display— the film is showing its hand proudly and, in fact, flaunting it.
DING. The lights above the elevators click on and the doors slide open. What follows is absolute, top-to-bottom chaos.
Werewolves, Aliens, Mutants and Robots pour out of the elevators at crazy speed, decimating the men even as they begin to fire. It’s a warzone in a second.
Again, the screenplay is succinct in its description, suggesting a grandiose moment of insanity and violence. The film brings it to life audibly and visually. The soundscape is instantaneously comprised of screaming, buzzing, roaring and spurting as opposed to the quiet that had preceded it. The wide scope of the shot allows every brand of violent creature to hit the frame at once, creating a seconds long clip which begs to be watched multiple times over, if only to register the details that are so difficult to pick out amongst the tumult.
While we do see those creatures mentioned in the script, there are even more present in the film, each embarking on a different malicious act that would be worth occupying the frame alone: (in order from back to front):
- Left elevator: Two demons leap out, fighting over a guard. One of them, red and devilish, pulls the guard upward, his small, red bat-wings fluttering as his blue counterpart holds onto the guard’s legs, tearing the man in two. Blood sprays in all directions.
Left elevator: A group of lumbering zombies emerge, grabbing a guard and feasting.- Left elevator: Long branches reach and claw from the elevator as the possessed tree within grabs hold of a guard. The guard disappears behind the doors as the tree skewers several others. Seconds later, an enormous amount of blood erupts into the hallway.
- Left elevator: A humungous demon bat flies out of the elevator and grabs a guard, flying out of frame. The guard falls hard against the floor and the bat lands atop him, devouring him ravenously.
- Right elevator: A giant snake slithers out, wrapping its scaly body around one guard and swallowing a second whole. Moments later, the guard in its tendrils explodes under the pressure.
- Right elevator: A yellow robot rockets out, its several extending arms equipped with spinning blades of various sizes. It grabs, pulls and slices through several guards, its loudly buzzing blades mercilessly sending blood spurting in every direction.
- Right elevator: A black robed, white haired witch flies out of the elevator, floating across the room and grabbing onto a guard. She raises her hands and a bright white energy tears away from the guard as the witch soars off with his soul in tow.
- Right elevator: A werewolf leaps out of the elevator, diving immediately onto one of the guards, blood pooling around the body as the creature feasts.
The moment comes to a close as the demon in the back of the room twirls in the air and lobs half of a guard’s corpse toward the center of the frame, allowing the image to cut to black. All of this, from:
It’s a warzone in a second.
Another pause follows the black frame. Then, screams and guttural growls in the distance. The frame returns to a handheld, close up perspective: ANGLE: RUNNING DOWN THE ADJOINING HALL with the next group of guards. Red emergency lights are flashing. The place is no longer a well-lit, put-together facility, but a frightening unsafe place. Sirens blare in the distance like a metronome, hypnotic in their rhythm. While the script is sparse on detail, the simple intensity on the page shows up effectively onscreen.
Other than the line they turn the corner to see horrible chaos, there is no mention of what the new guards encounter before the doors again open, but the film fills in those moments with appropriate grotesquery and zest. The guards turn a corner and see the giant snake slithering away, leaving a thick, wet trail of blood in its wake. Rounding that corner, the guards encounter the elevators, presented in the same wide master shot that first revealed the escaped monsters only seconds before.
The place is soaked in blood, guts and sinew, littered with body parts and mangled corpses, a stark contrast to the white, pristine hallway we once knew. The only movement is a small group of zombies, slowly eating their way through one of the bodies. They stop and look up at the guards as a corpse near the control room twitches on the floor.
The moment acts as a BEAT that is not present in the script, punctuated by a large pile of guts which falls from the ceiling with a loud THUD in the background. The deranged, over-the-top nature of the visual and the suggestion of what will follow is hilarious and frightening at the same time. That’s when the familiar DING of the elevator doors resounds through the hall and the lights again click on, obscured by thick blood but visible all the same.
The image cuts before the new barrage of creatures ready to slay, devour and disembowel are released, which works given what the prior moments have already taught the viewer to expect. The narrative is perfectly poised to return to the control room and realign with Marty and Dana as well as the consequences of the choice they’ve made. Just as the people who ran the facility, they’ve decided to use the monsters to accomplish their ends… regardless of the consequences.
THE BLOODY CONCLUSION
Horror movie tropes are funny, aren’t they? There’s a reason the most recognizable creatures in the genre can make us giddy, smile, laugh and, yet, somehow, afraid. There is a power to familiarity, when it’s employed in the right way, and there is certainly an art to deconstructing that power.
Horror fans are incredibly aware of the DNA which makes up their chosen obsession. Both Drew Goddard and Joss Whedon were well aware of that fact when they set out to write Cabin in the Woods. It’s a movie that came at the perfect time, following in the wake of a decade of attempted reinvention and the ever cycling creative need to dissect. While breaking down genre conceits was nothing new (aside from the previously mentioned films by Adam Green and Scott Glosserman, see Wes Craven’s New Nightmare (1994) and Scream (1996)), it had never been done on such a scale, with such a direct look at the horror fan and the self-aware nature of the characters’ being subjected to that fan’s whims.
No scene in the film represents this dichotomy better than the purge in the hallway. An homage, reinvention and entirely new concept all operating concurrently together, brought to life with simple screenplay direction and a visual symmetry that aided the viewer in breaking down the chaos and understanding the inherent fun and grotesque terror which drives their passion for the genre.
Part of what makes the scene so strong is the production’s dedication to practical work. In the feature, “An Army of Nightmares” found on the blu-ray mentioned above, Drew Goddard admits there was “space that needed to be filled” which required digital effects. However, in the same feature, Creature Designer and Special Make-Up Effects Artist for the film Dave Anderson discusses how he and his team created “right around 60 characters” practically. The workload was immense and many of the creatures received mere seconds of screen time, some of them only ever visible in small cubicles in the background.
Still, the presence of practical work, even if only peripheral, served to legitimize the digital effects that were there. In the feature “Primal Terror”, Drew Goddard says, “the reason you have visual effects is because they make your life so much easier. But no matter how good they are… you can’t beat a person that’s real. You can’t beat a creature that’s really there.”
The sequence ultimately serves to bring the whole production together, providing audiences with the sort of horror film they know and love but also something they’ve never seen before. The best sort of meta-genre experiment and one that sent echoes throughout horror fandom which would pay dividends for years to come. I’ll never forget walking out of that movie theater, the giant grin on my face, or the feeling that it inspired in me. I couldn’t wait to get home, to comb through my collection and put something else on.
But that’s the funny thing about all this— you’d think all too familiar concepts would turn you off to the genre, but they only make you want to watch more. When handled properly, they don’t distract, they inform. Familiar, yes, but anything but uninventive. Sometimes they mine fear and other times they draw a smile, for pulling on an old trope, contrivance or convenience can be akin to calling back an inside joke with an old acquaintance.
Drew Goddard and Joss Whedon seemed to understand this better than anyone, employing a sense of humor about the tropes they were playing with, as evidenced on the commentary track found on the blu-ray:
“What? You would totally have this system purge technology if you had a bunch of monsters— what’re you talking about??” Joss Whedon said.
“She had to flip a lot of dials!” Drew Goddard continued.
“Had she not flipped all those dials,” Joss Whedon said, “clearly it wouldn’t be that easy.”
Like I said: horror movie tropes are a funny thing.
Cabin in the Woods (2011): Written by Joss Whedon & Drew Goddard and Directed by Drew Goddard.
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