Transcript

Edmund: One of the most iconic and horrifying moments in the history of cinema didn’t show much more than a shadowy figure. But at the time, it terrified audiences. Horror cinema has changed and evolved a great deal over the years. However, there’s one common theme that resurfaces again and again through cinematic history.  

The year is 1922, and audiences watch in a silent-film theatre as a dark, unnatural figure named Count Orlok moves up a staircase to prey on his victim, Ellen. The film Nosferatu was an unauthorized adaptation of Bram Stoker’s book, Dracula. Watching this film today, you’d notice the Count’s long, unnatural features and corpse-like appearance and assume—that while his name has been changed—this is definitely a version of the famous vampire Count Dracula. It marks Dracula’s cinematic debut. 

This was an era when cinema was still relatively new, and many people had never seen a monster on the big screen like this before. The supernatural storyline, groundbreaking use of expressionist lighting and shadow, and jerky movements gave birth to the unnerving visual language of suspense and horror. 

Rather than showing the vampire in full detail, it’s what we don’t see and don’t know that intensifies the fear. As famous horror film director Alfred Hitchcock would later say: “There is no terror in the bang, only the anticipation of it.” 

There’s evidence to suggest that horror films allow viewers to confront fear in a controlled way. We might be choosing to watch horror movies with the hope deep down that in the end, we’ll feel a sense of mastery over these anxiety-inducing situations. 

But what began with Nosferatu is still a present theme in horror films. The shadow climbing the stairs is terrifying because it evokes a more immaterial fear. It’s a spiritual visual. It speaks to the idea that evil is not a thing in itself, but a corruption of the good. This is a slower, creeping dread. It’s not external and gory, but something inevitable and not fully known. It’s unsettling not because of what it shows, but what it implies. The darkness may already be inside your house, or your room, or even inside your own soul. 

Many cultures share eerie and unsettling stories, which are often passed down through oral tradition or preserved in writing. These stories serve as cautionary tales or carry moral lessons and explore themes such as death, the supernatural, and the darker aspects of human nature. Research suggests that these stories help us to process complex emotions, and visualize what we would do—and not do—in a similar situation. 

In the horror genre, we see over and over the theme of an unknown, inevitable evil that can’t be defeated merely by logic, strength, or science. We have two choices: either keep running or seek help from a greater power in order to defeat it once and for all. 

The Netflix show Stranger Things tells the story of a group of friends confronting an evil force from an unseen, other world: the “Upside Down”. These forces and their world are a horrifying counter-existence to ours. As in many horror films throughout the decades, this evil isn’t overcome easily by natural methods. Characters in these films are often pushed to the point of surrendering completely to their helplessness. It’s only when they finally seek help, power, strength, or transformation beyond themselves, that they are able to overcome the evil forces.  

In Stephen King’s horror novel adaptation, It, the kids overcome Pennywise by standing together, confronting truth, and rejecting fear. In the movie The Sixth Sense, the resolution is found not by expelling the ghosts, but by healing and closure. And even in a movie like The Others—where the protagonist eventually realizes that (spoiler alert!)—she is the source of the haunting, her journey ends in surrender, repentance, and reconciliation. 

[Scene from The Office, Season 5, Episode 14: “Looks like I am the killer. Never expect that you’re the killer… It’s a great twist. Great twist.”]

Audiences today have seen way more visually terrifying scenes in cinema since Count Orlok ascended those stairs in 1920. So we may not find it as visually scary. However, this film came just after the terror of the Spanish Flu pandemic. World War I had ended, but the potential for another world war loomed in the shadows. 

So maybe audiences today aren’t so different after all. The horror at the heart of this film taps into something we all instinctively recognize: the presence of real evil. It’s not just about jump scares or physical threat, it’s about the deeper, more unsettling realization that there are sinister forces in the world that we can’t keep external. Horror stories give us a way to name this truth; to acknowledge that some dangers go beyond the natural, because they aim not just to harm our bodies, but to claim our souls. 

And when we finally confront this reality—or even our darkest moment in life—we know we’ll need a greater power to help us. Horror movies force us to ask ourselves: who will we turn to for help in these situations? And who will come and save us when we finally cry out: “Deliver us from evil”?