Two weeks ago a giggling gaggle of teenage girls walked into the Spirit Halloween store. They were deciding on costumes: “I’m gonna be a sexy firefighter!” “I’m gonna be a sexy nurse!” “I’m gonna be . . .” They were not to be disappointed. Aisles were full of such costumes, usually labeled “Adult" such-and-such, consisting of one- or two-piece cheap plastic outfits designed to show off cleavage and mounds. Another wall displayed actual fetish gear, of higher quality and cost, designed not just for dress-up but for role-playing.
All this hot stuff was well-balanced by haunted offerings, make no mistake. Most of Spirit’s wares were the usual Halloween fare: bloody masks, severed heads, makeup, and tombstones. But, like the girls, many people are opting for sexy over scary. It’s been enough of a shift to make news around the country, and is an interesting shift in our cultural psyche.
Halloween is traditionally a holiday of the dead; Jack-O-Lanterns light the way for returning spirits. Pop culture entered the game in the early 20th century, mainly through the postcard industry. Later, Universal Studios and Hammer Films established Dracula, Frankenstein, and the Wolfman as usual suspects. Generations of “monster kids” in the ’60s turned into filmmakers of the ’80s. Freddy, Jason, and countless zombies became postmodern icons. Don’t even mention the Scream face.
The downside of this legacy is that Halloween and horror culture became kitsch. If you’re over 12, it’s almost impossible to be seriously scared. Monsters and zombies are icons of parody or camp. People wear these costumes because it’s Halloween, not because they’re actually scary or powerful. But part of the delight in Halloween is that power, and the occasional jolt of real fear. What happens when it’s neutered?
Something has to replace it. Current horror movies don't. Though very scary, they reflect a more difficult, and more immediate, world. Someone said about Hostel that “the really horrifying thing is you know it’s happening somewhere.” Current horror touches nerves that are uncomfortably close to the surface, brought up by war or debates on torture. There are no icons or kitsch here, and more importantly, no easy ways out. You can’t stop believing in this.
Modern horror reveals something: nowadays, fear is almost too real to be Halloween fare anymore. Sex takes its place. Sex is at least as powerful as fear and equally important to the American mind. Sex and death have been intertwined since the Puritans: they are both experiences we don’t deal with very well. Naturally, then, we’re obsessed with them. But we're obsessed at a distance. A horror movie isn’t death; a sexy costume isn’t sex. These are the safe versions of truly dangerous forces.
Halloween has always allowed people to let loose. Our current world is too scary for old clichés: Dracula isn’t frightening after you’ve seen Nick Berg beheaded. So we switch fantasies. Sex is still safe, and still needs release. Porno stereotypes are as kitschy as monsters, but they work. They still make people horny. They also, as a rule, aren't threatening. Any aspect of death, even as kitsch, is too much right now. Sex is its replacement.
