Nasties of the noughties

If asked to identify a ‘Golden Age’ in UK Horror, there could be little doubt that the 1960s-1970s – the years of Hammer, Amicus and Tigon – would be the first to spring to mind.

It is possible to identify the noughties as a particularly strong time for UK horror

These studios were at the forefront of the horror of their time: initiators of trends, yet with recognisable styles of their own.

Hammer had its lavish sets and emphasis on sensuality, lurid colour and extravagance; Amicus produced lower-budget anthology horrors in contemporary settings, while there was strange cruelty set deep within Tigon’s equivocal charm.

The studios also tended to draw upon the same pool of acting talent, reinforcing the impression of a self-enclosed genre, with its acknowledged masters and familiar faces.

These included Barbara Shelley, Christopher Lee, Peter Cushing, Oliver Reed and David Warner.

UK horror seemed for a time to be ‘owned’ by the studios which defined and bounded it, so much so that the decline in the studios’ activity seemed to ring out the death-knell of UK horror itself.

There has, perhaps, been no movement in UK horror since of quite equal significance. Recent years, however, have seen some fascinating stirrings in this quarter. Hammer announced its return with Beyond the Rave and Wake Wood, and its current output exhibits a willingness to pursue new directions.

Alongside this, a revival of interest in its past ‘Golden Age’ is being spearheaded by the remarkable and indefatigable Mark Gatiss.

Even without Hammer’s return, the noughties would have to be considered a particularly prolific time for UK horror.

There are enough grounds to consider it a wave in itself, though not as readily identifiable as such, perhaps, since some of the films in question were made on a limited budget and hardly enjoyed the high profile of Hammer productions.

Adam Mason’s films have tended to have the rather enviable ability to polarise opinion into radically opposed camps – those who heap accolades on his work as revolutionising the genre, and those who can’t see the literally-bloody point.

From the relentless Broken (2006), through the playfully self-reflexive The Devil’s Chair (2007), to Blood River (his 2009 American production), Mason has boldly tried his hand at exploring different dimensions of horror.

Neil Marshall probably requires little introduction. The Descent (2005) and Dog Soldiers (2002) stand out as landmark horror films.

The Descent is an effective study in terror and panic. The feel of entrapment is intensified by the literal downward fall into cavernous darkness, while Dog Soldiers deserves to be considered one of the best werewolf films of the decade.

Television drama is often perceived as something the Brits do well; it has, at any rate, enjoyed a well-established place in the ranks of television fare – reliable, often mediocre, and occasionally brilliant. Recent years, however, have seen a renewed interest in the further potential of the made-for-TV style, and what its very limitations can offer by way of grittily realist or documentary-style drama.

Films like Cass and This is England, while not made-for-television, embrace elements of that style. Although the attempt to convert actual budget constraints into aspects of style, or to adopt them as such, is not always a successful ploy, this wave has yielded a number of powerful films.

In horror, one subgenre that seems to have benefited most is ‘torture-porn’. Steven Sheil’s Mum and Dad (2008) strikes a balance between gritty realism and gleeful excessive eccentricity in the vein of Wes Craven’s People Under the Stairs. The low-budget quality and narrowly confined, sparingly lit locations pay off in the intensification of the claustrophobic effect.

Johnny Kevorkian’s ‘supernatural’ horror The Disappeared (2008) echoes Roeg’s Don’t Look Now. Both Mum and Dad and The Disappeared are related to the earlier films in a way that suggests more than mere coincidence; indeed, they seem to proclaim their debt (with the iconic red raincoat replaced by a hoodie in the latter).

This enables us to highlight the major difference – and this is a significant one: the stylistic shift towards realism, accompanied by a relocation of the scene – in The Disappeared, the transposition of the scene from Roeg’s dreamy Venice to a council estate.

Michael Bassett’s Wilderness (2006) is one of my favourites. Here, a low budget is put to work in the evocation of a merciless dog-eat-dog world. A group of juvenile delinquents, isolated on an island, fight an unseen killer and each other, in a tale reminiscent of The Lord of the Flies.

James Watkins, director of Hammer’s most recent offering The Woman in Black, has established his name as a horror director with Eden Lake (2008), a tale of survival which makes an attempt at social commentary. As such, Eden Lake is not an unqualified success, but it is possibly one of the more important UK horror films of the noughties.

Tom Shankland’s contributions to UK horror are worth mentioning – they have included the above-average ‘zombie’ film, The Children (2008), and several episodes of the BBC series The Fades.

Michael Bartlett’s The Zombie Diaries (2006) shifts the zombie subgenre into more ‘realist’ gear, using the handheld camera perspective in a more disorientating manner than that found in the later Diary of the Dead (Romero).

A more interesting effort at a ‘realist’ zombie film is Marc Price’s low budget Colin (2008), following a zombie’s perspective. While The Zombie Diaries’ focus is relatively narrow, Colin’s shambles through different locations take in the local and the wider context, the ‘narrative’ being a series of episodes and adventures strung together.

Paul Andrew Williams’ The Cottage (2008) brings together Andy Serkis and Reece Shearsmith for a Texas Chainsaw Massacre-style romp through English farmland.

It tries to be a cross between TCM and the wonderful Motel Hell, both insane and hilarious, but doesn’t quite make it. That aside, it’s still an enjoyable comedy-horror, and Serkis and Shearsmith have the right dynamic for a double-act.

One of the most important emerging horror directors has to be Christopher Smith. The Underground has proven ideal fodder for the imagination of horror writers, including James Herbert and Clive Barker. Creep (2004) plays with the same sense of claustrophobia we have already noted as one dominant trend in recent UK horror.

Set in the London Underground and its network of tunnels, it capitalises on the setting’s atmospheric potential. It deftly negotiates the tricky balance between the overt manifestation of the monster (played by Sean Harris) and that which is only hinted at in the obscure darkness.

Severance (2006) is a witty take on the lost-in-the-woods subgenre: a group of sales executives on a team-building exercise find themselves sorely ill-equipped to deal with the extreme situations that arise.

The cast includes Black Adder’s Tim McInnerny (something of a regular in Smith’s movies), genre-favourite Andy Nyman, and Danny Dyer (cast to type as the token ‘lad’ of the group).

In retrospect, it is possible to identify the noughties as a particularly strong time for UK horror – with even something approaching a ‘movement’ or a ‘wave’, complete with its dominant trends, associated directors and the emergence of a new core of ‘genre actors’.

With a few exceptions, such as Danny Boyle’s 28 Days Later (2002) which received instant (and deserved) acclaim, this steady emergence has taken its time to surface, giving rise to the more ‘visible’ UK genre offerings at the end of the decade – Attack the Block and Kill List being two of particular note.