Yeah, I’m a grown ass woman, but I don’t watch horror films. It’s not gonna happen. I already suffer from insomnia. In those agonizing moments of lying in bed, willing sleep to come to me, I don’t need the additional stress of wondering what lurks behind every shadow, sound and creak in this old brownstone.
I live alone. I don’t have the luxury of rolling over, nudging my bedmate and saying, “Honey, I heard a strange noise. You should go check it out.” I don’t even have the luxury of rolling over and snuggling for comfort. To clarify, I have someone, but he’s currently deployed, but even when he wasn’t, we didn’t live together. Yet. Speak it into the universe, they say.
I can’t even handle horror film trailers. At the movie theater, I plug my ears with my fingers, close my eyes and quietly hum. If I’m with a friend, I’m tapped when it’s over. If I’m alone, I hope that I don’t come out of my solo huddle too soon or too late and miss the beginning of the next trailer. I mute the radio in .02 second when I hear that unmistakable voiceover for horror films. You will not get me.
I refuse to pay money to be scared. You won’t catch me at a horror film or a haunted house. I, She, me, her is not the one. Out of curiosity because of all the social media memes, I dared to watch Bird Box starring Sandra Bullock. It was more of a thriller than horror, so I was fine. I can handle thrillers. Jordan Peele’s Get Out didn’t scare me, but Us messed me up for months. I learned my lesson, so I will not be going to see the below current or upcoming films. Not even if I can easily mosey into them for free after watching a movie I paid for. Not—ahem—that—ahem–I’ve—ahem—done—ahem–that. Anywho…
- Invisible Man
I accidentally watched part of this trailer. I can’t remember what movie I was in the theaters to watch when it came on. I had no idea what I was in for when it did, which is part of the reason I was caught off guard. Trailers are usually similar to the main attraction, so yeah, I thought I was safe. I was a big fan of Elisabeth Moss as Peggy Olson in Mad Men. I can’t wait to get a Hulu account (borrowed or paid for) so that I can watch The Handmaid’s Tale. I would love to watch Aldis Hodge’s beautiful blackness on the big screen, but I can’t do it. Sorry to that man. And to Elisabeth. I can’t watch a movie about a man who figures out how to make himself invisible to torment a woman. Nope.
- Candy Man
My father was the epitome of the type of man who should not have been a single father. This man kept candy in nearly every room of the house and in his car. We had fast food or Chinese Food what seems like at least once a week, even though I know that cannot be true, but it was often and sometimes not even at our own request. He allowed us to add Nestlé Quik to our Frosted Flakes. He laughed when the boys practiced WWF (now WWE) moves on me. Back then we had every movie channel thanks to the black box. We watched the bloodiest, most violent, and inappropriate movies. Think Jean-Claude Van Damme and kung-fu movies. Think horror films like Nightmare on Elm Street, Night of the Living Dead, and the original Candy Man. Candy Man and IT are the top two films that have traumatized me to this day. I did not watch the IT remake and sequel, nor will I be watching Candy Man. The same way my father kept candy in every room, I have mirrors. I’m not vain. I barely look in them. I read in a magazine it’s a nice decorating tip to make your space seem larger. I’m happy with my space, but this is an NYC apartment. ‘Tisn’t spacious. My living room has a wrought iron oval one and one made up of several smaller mirrors to form a starburst. My bedroom has a fifty-pound full-length mosaic mirror as well as another full body mirror that I’ve had since college hanging on my closet door. Of course the bathroom has a mirror. OK, so the kitchen doesn’t have one, but I can see my reflection in the window. I forget a good 75% of a book the second I close the back cover, but somehow over twenty years after watching Candy Man ONCE I remember the hook, bees and his scary face. I will not say the name out loud so that they can add up and he appears. Good luck at the box office, Mr. Peele, but I shan’t be in attendance.
Janelle Monae is beautiful. I love her outspokenness and candor. I love her music. I love her style. I have reposted her red carpet looks on social media several times. She inspired me to wear my own low-budget version of a tuxedo to a cousin’s wedding. Said bride later asked me where I got it and purchased the pieces herself. I was impressed by Janelle Monae’s acting chops in Hidden Figures and Moonlight, but no, m’am, you won’t get a chance to impress me with Antebellum. I have yet to see the full movie trailer, but it’s pegged as a horror film. That’s enough for me. It comes up as an Instagram Story sponsored ad with “Swipe up to watch full trailer” after Monae’s character says “Sometimes what looks like anger is really just…fear!” It ends with a fluttering butterfly. I just keep scrolling. Once again Jordan Peele is the culprit. He managed to make the image of scissors scary because of Us. He’s not going to ruin beautiful butterflies for me.
Of course skipping these movies is giving me a terrible case of FOMO, but everything is not for everybody. I’ll be ok. I’ll deal with people’s reactions when they find out I haven’t or won’t see them. I’m the same person who hasn’t seen Grease and other non-horror classics. It just hasn’t happened. Hell, I finally just watched 101 Dalmatians earlier this year. With Coronavirus on the loose, paid subscriptions to Netflix and Amazon Prime, and the clock ticking on my free trial year of Disney+, I have plenty of other viewing options.
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