Horror plots are getting seriously complicated. here's why.
Remember the rules? Don’t have sex. Don’t do drugs. And for the love of all that is unholy, don’t say “I’ll be right back.” That’s the mantra of 1996’s Scream, a film that, while not flawless, offered a comforting simplicity to a generation grappling with slasher scares. Now, horror is spiraling into a labyrinth of interconnected narratives, a plot-heavy maze designed to keep you guessing – and increasingly, frustrated.
The new rules of horror: a mind-bending descent
Take Netflix’s Something Very Bad Is Going to Happen. The premise? The protagonist must marry her soulmate by sunset or die. But the soulmate question is merely a gateway to a convoluted inheritance curse – break off the engagement, and the curse lands on the groom’s family. The cycle continues, generation after generation. The plot’s intricacies are so dense, one can’t help but wonder if the writers are actively trying to induce a headache.
This isn't an isolated incident. The Duffer Brothers, the minds behind Stranger Things, are responsible for this latest Netflix offering. Their own series concluded with lengthy explanations of impending events using everyday objects, a tactic that, while initially charming, now feels like a deliberate obfuscation for streaming audiences.
IT: Welcome to Derry took this further. The show’s exploration of Pennywise’s origins introduced the unsettling concept of the clown experiencing past, present, and future simultaneously. While conceptually intriguing, the showrunners offered little clarity on how such a feat was possible, leaving viewers with more questions than answers. This is a common thread throughout contemporary horror: a relentless pursuit of complexity often at the expense of genuine scares.
MGM+’s From, frequently compared to Lost, exemplifies this trend. The show traps its characters in a mysterious town with nightly monster patrols, and as the mysteries unfold, the plot branches into a dizzying array of subplots. The initial premise, a creepy town with lurking dangers, is quickly buried under layers of increasingly improbable explanations.
But it’s not all doom and excessive exposition. Recent indie horror has proven that effective scares don’t require intricate plotting. Barbarian’s brilliance lay in the simple reveal of a monster lurking beneath an Airbnb, while Weapons expertly used a witch as the central horror element. Even Nope’s alien reveal was classic in its simplicity. Ari Aster’s Hereditary thrived on building dread through atmosphere and suggestion rather than convoluted narratives.
The problem isn’t a lack of ambition; it’s a misguided belief that complexity equates to quality. Creators seem to prioritize baffling the audience over genuinely frightening them. The most effective horror often understands that a well-placed scare, a lingering sense of unease, is far more potent than a dozen unanswered questions. The result? We’re left with stories that feel less like chilling narratives and more like elaborate puzzles designed to frustrate.
The horror genre, once defined by its ability to tap into primal fears, risks losing its grip if it continues down this path of overcomplicated storytelling. Viewers crave suspense, not confusion. And that, ultimately, is a terrifying realization.