I believe in Southern Horror ©. I know what you’re all thinking: “Gumbo voodoo zombie reincarnate dripping with deep fried sin and rank with bloody (or is it saucy?) nectar of a fresh shrimp massacre of a feast?” My dear audience, you mustn’t let a moniker such as this confound you. There exists in the film industry a specific sub-genre of professedly underappreciated gore/content flicks which I have come to label as Southern Horror. However, to obtain its seat in the intricate, seasoned theatre that is Southern Horror, its is necessary for the film to meet the following criteria: 1.) It must either have been shot in the southern United States or provide an all-consuming feeling that it should be, would be, or could be present there. 2.) It must be relevant to any type of musical component such as rock/opera, metal, or jazz. 3.) The movie, without exception, must house gore, the radical kind. If a movie can pledge itself to these three requirements, then feel free to officially enter it into your memory as Southern Horror. Take note though, that while movies like “Wolf Creek” are acceptable in this grouping, surprise selections such as “Session 9″ and “Repo!” are also admissible. Now that you have a partial understanding as to what Southern Horror is, I can begin to explain to you why it means so much to me and why I hold a belief of such magnitude in Southern Horror™ and its creators.
The first film I can recall viewing was Dan Curtis’ “Trilogy of Terror”, keep in mind in all likelihood I had barely reached the age of three. If you’d like to cut my parents some slack we’ll say four. Regardless, the trilogy was put simply a maelstrom of screams, injuries, and possessed dolls that grossed reviews in which it was graced a comparison to “Child’s Play” and “The Twilight Zone”. An endless chain of horror flicks soon ensued, and although the majority of the movies I was exposed to when young do not fit the mold I have carved for Southern Horror, they paved a steadfast highway of sorts for me, linking me like an interstate into all the sub-genres that the thriller, suspense, and horror categories had in store for me. Without this early exposure, my ability to form, recognize, and define Southern Horror may not have come to me.
When I am obliged enough to receive the fortune of screening a film akin to “House of 1,000 Corpses”, or any of the Grindhouse features (all sensational testaments to the Southern Horror sub-genre) it practically launches a ballistic missile within me. At the closure of the movie my heart actually races with a macabre delight, seeing as somehow after each S.H. flick I seem to believe that I have received yet another additive for my soon-to-be-blockbuster elixir. Every single movie that can be included into this genre, and its director (I credit those such as Zombie, and the Cohens) and screenwriter (specifically Aja, or Zdunich) lead me to believe one day I will have the key ingredients to create an S.H. flick so compelling a virtual apocalypse will ensue until I am able to release another, initiating a despondent cycle of supply and demand. Viewer beware, for Southern Horror is what I believe in, and I hereby dedicate myself to its continuity.