The Terrifyingly Wonderful World of Trash
I love garbage, trash, camp and low budget buffoonery. From the curdled milky pleasures of Troll 2 (1990) to the effervescent stink of The Room (2003), I love it all. There is no slop I cannot stomach or slime I will not drink. And I’m not alone in this. People love trash. We play drinking games whilst watching it, we attend interactive live screenings of infamous trashy films, filmmakers produce movies like Malignant (2020) or Psycho Goreman (2020) that intentionally ape particular trash aesthetics, and we revisit these steamy piles time and time again. We cannot get enough of this stuff. It’s like catnip for us sewer-dwelling goblins. But perhaps you aren’t on the trash train. You may even be asking yourself what any of this means. What exactly is trash? What does it have to do with horror? Well, allow me to explain.
When I was growing up, I’d often find myself flicking through TV channels at night. I’d sit alongside family or friends, bored to the point of frustration, for what seemed like hours, desperately searching for something for us to watch, only to come up empty-handed. But then, as if descended from heaven itself, I’d stumble upon pure gold the likes of which could only be found on The Horror Channel or Syfy at one in the morning. These films were my first real taste of what I would later come to lovingly call trash. They were bizarre, funny, and unlike anything I could find elsewhere. The acting was enough to leave our jaws hanging, the effects were hilarious, and the nonsensical plots had us glued to the screen. At times they would even have me and everyone I was with gasping for air as we were sent into manic fits of laughter, the kind that can only be produced via a distinct combination of late-night delirium, the warmth of community, and the most ludicrous moving pictures known to man or beast. And this taste sparked something in me. It was the first drop of blood in the water, and I knew straight away that I needed more. So naturally, that taste for it only grew with time, and eventually led me to seek out the sloppiest and schlockiest cinema I could get my hands on.
This frenzied search eventually led me to some of the greats, and not so greats, of the “so bad it’s good” genre. Films like Troll 2 (1990), Silent Night Deadly Night 2 (1987), Chopping Mall (1986), Basket Case (1982) and pretty much everything ever made by Troma or Full Moon. The self-awareness that these films possess varies greatly. Some are seemingly trying, and failing, to be decent movies. Meanwhile, others feel as though they were made with full knowledge of what exactly they were. It is even true that not all trash, at least according to my loose definition, is even bad. Some films that I call trash are actually quite well-regarded and only claim the title due to their sheer wackiness. Tetsuo: The Iron Man (1989) and House (1977) could both be considered great examples of this. But regardless of intent and reception, all of these films carry the same trashy appeal that I crave. They all circumvent the qualities we’ve been taught to admire in cinema. Instead, they revel in their rejection of all that is classy, intelligent, and conventionally good. Bad acting, iconic line readings, low budgets, wacky practical effects, and unadulterated goofiness can be found in almost all of them. However, despite my calling these films trash and listing off all the ways that many of them fail at being what we consider “good cinema,” they are by no means a waste. These films have dedicated fan bases after all. Something about them draws us in. But what is it? What is it about trash that is so alluring?
Well, there are many reasons why this type of film is all too appealing, one of these being that we actively participate and engage with it. Plain bad movies are dull; our eyes glaze over, and our brains shut off. Art wants to reach us, to engage with us and spark something in us. And despite trash often being conventionally “bad,” it still manages to do that. It entertains and does so in a way that is completely unique. When we see a dead-eyed stop motion flesh lump screaming wildly and flopping around on the ground in Basket Case, or witness the greatness of the camp dame herself, Creedence Leonore Gielgud, delivering the most jaw-droppingly weird performance in Troll 2, it sparks a sick joy that you would be hard-pressed to find in more well-regarded films.
But why horror? Well, it’s true that trash isn’t exclusive to horror. Hallmark movies and almost every reality television show ever produced prove that. But there is something special about horror. While other genres produce garbage films all the time, they don’t become trashy cult hits quite as often as horror movies do. There are many reasons for this, but I think one of the most apparent is the fact that even when horror is at its most absurd, cheap and exploitative, it still manages to be fun, creative, and wacky. A bad ‘80s romance might be forgotten, but a bad ‘80s horror movie? They tend to live on because they have all the ingredients needed to create the perfect cocktail of intoxicating trash. You’ve got the aforementioned practical effects, the abysmal acting, the iconic characters, the wild plots, the weird monsters, and just so much more. They make us laugh, cringe, cheer, and, hell, they might even manage to genuinely impress us on rare occasions. Simply put, trashy horror is wonderful to experience, and it possesses elements that other genres simply lack. It isn’t restricted by the need to conform or appear normal, thus allowing its trashier side to bloom. It goes against convection, embraces the bizarre, and taps into our base desires in a way that other genres may struggle to.
Yes, you could sit down and treat yourself to a viewing of a beautifully crafted A24 horror film. But why limit yourself? Don’t deny your right to experience absolute pleasure in its most tantalizing form. Go forth, my foul raccoon-faced goblins. Go and enjoy the forbidden, worm-infested fruit that I call trash.
