Here’s how to know you’re watching an A24 horror movie, which has evolved into a genre in and of itself, marked and set apart by distinct qualities. Independent cinema seems to have undergone an upsurge in recent years, with indie horrors such as Uncut Gems. However, it is A24’s horror entries that have made a tangible mark on popular consciousness, with films such as Hereditary and Midsommar reaching cult status, while changing the very face of horror.
Regardless of cinematic merit, all A24 horror films harbor a sense of uniqueness, be it in the form of atmospheric unease or complex character studies. The term ‘post-horror’ is applicable to A24 horror in general, with psychological horrors such as The Killing of a Sacred Deer relying heavily upon the subtle evocation of dread as opposed to relentless violence or knee-jerk scares. Narrative build-up to the point of palpable anxiety seems to be an A24 staple, supplemented with horrors that emerge from the mundane, and the absolute collapse of traditional safe spaces. A good example of this kind of horror is exemplified in Gaspar Noé’s Climax, which focuses on one hallucinatory night wherein a troupe of young dancers indulges in an all-night celebration that ultimately gives way to LSD-laced violence and a visceral collective meltdown.
Most A24 horror elicits audience responses that are steeped in a fear of the unknown and the intangible, which often works well in lieu of terrors of a more supernatural origin. While Robert Eggers’ It Comes At Night. Instead of relying solely on discordant sounds and horrifying images, It Comes At Night frightens with what remains unseen, and the anxieties that emerge from sheer inexplicability.
Instead of etching tell-tale images of haunted mansions, eerie alleyways, and disembodied upheaval, A24 horror paints a more thoughtfully fleshed-out, comprehensive picture of the human condition, which is often tinged by understated macabre. Jonathan Glazer’s Under The Skin works well in that strain, as it incorporates strains of sci-fi horror with arthouse aesthetics, with an almost road trip movie narrative structure. However, this literal journey is supplemented with an internal one, with the titular character grappling with existential quandaries that challenge and subvert her actions and core identity. This internal squabble is the seat of true horror, as it raises pertinent questions that mostly seem to unnerve, shattering the sense of security that reality intermittently offers.
Apart from this, A24 horror approaches topics that are often considered taboo, uncomfortable, or jarring, such as the exploration of parental fears in deeply disturbing The Hole in the Ground. Such dysfunctional family narratives grant a special sense of unease to the viewer, as they often function as a source of terror with tangible, real-world mirrorings, leading to either maddening frustration or catharsis throughout the movie-viewing process. This only serves to prove that compelling horror narratives, no matter how uncomfortable or terrifying, hold the ability to engage audiences, despite low-budget productions or under-the-radar performances. While A24 horror has already evolved into a sub-genre in itself, it will be interesting to witness how its future offerings will enhance, subvert, and mutate the genre.
