How to Spot Bad Acting in Your Favorite Halloween Movies
“We make up horrors,” wrote Stephen King, “to help us cope with the real ones.”
‘Tis the season for ghosts and ghoulies and all manner of creepy things that go bump in the night. Whether you’re an aspiring screenwriter, director or actor, horror films are historically the cheapest projects to make. Not only do they involve minimalist locations (i.e., a forest, an attic, a cemetery, deserted fairgrounds) but there’s also the fact that half of the genre’s appeal is predicated on its ability to tap the wellspring of universal fears (i.e., getting lost, getting abducted, getting dispatched in gruesome ways).
A common denominator of horror films, of course, is all of the cringe-worthy bad acting. Given the low investment in the scripts and sets, no one seems to mind this. In the 1950s and 60s, for instance, the plots involving alien invasions, mad scientists and giant crab monsters were just a proxy for the real-life threat of Communism. As long as the good guys won—and they always did—no one really cared how hammy and melodramatic the performers were.
Suffice it to say, even bad examples can form the foundation for self-improvement, especially if you’re looking to hone your craft on stage or screen and come off as authentic.
Dashes and Ellipses
In a script, a dash or ellipses indicates that the speaking character is about to be interrupted. In normal conversations, we never know when this will occur. Many actors, however, only learn a line as far as the break. Example, “Oh no, you don’t mean to tell me—,” “That blob in the cauldron looks—”. “If we don’t leave Earth, those aliens will—.” As an actor, you must always know what the rest of the line is going to be and be fully prepared to say it.
The Fixed Stare
In horror flicks, you can always tell a character is really, really serious because s/he locks rigid and unwavering eye contact with the other person in the conversation. They also stand impossibly close to each other. Again, does this ever happen in real life? The harder you stare, the more this effort will look phony and give your eyes a doofy, crazed appearance.
Acting with Your Forehead
Along with the fixed stare is the purposefully furrowed brow. The deeper the furrow, the deeper the emotion and consternation being projected, right? Anger, confusion, skepticism. Forehead furrows are a nice crutch but the emotion itself is better placed in your vocal color and in your body language. The same goes for what I call “overactive eyebrows.” Many a time my singing instructor has corrected me for believing that my eyebrows were actually helping me to hit higher notes. Absolutely no connection whatsoever.
What’s the Subtext?
Anyone can say lines. A good actor, however, will understand the meaning and intention beneath the lines. Example: “This pandemic is unlike anything I’ve ever seen.” Is the subtext: (1) “Wow! I’m really impressed.” (2) We are totally doomed.” (3) This has to be a hoax.” (4) I can get a Nobel prize if I figure this thing out.” Whatever you are interpreting about your character’s motivations (and especially if this is independent of a director’s guidance) can manifest in the physical performance whether you intend it to or not.
Flailing About vs. Being Intimate
When danger is imminent, characters in horror films react by either flailing their arms and running around or freezing into statue poses. The thinking here seems to be that any moving objects will be the first to be eaten whereas standing perfectly still will render one instantly invisible. In either case, it’s the director’s call on who moves how, where and when. If you’re the director yourself, just be aware that both options look silly and unnatural.
Tensing Up
If your character is going to deliver dire news, it’s common in horror flicks to do this with a tense mouth and jaw. Along with the fixed stare and deeply furrowed brow, the intention is to convey there is no escape from doom. Unfortunately, a tight mouth and jaw inhibits vocal color and inflection. Hear for yourself what you sound like if—without moving your head—you cup one hand firmly under your chin, press upward and try to talk.
Pushing for Emotion
Newton’s Third Law of Motion—for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction—easily translates to stage and screen. For instance, the harder you try to get laughs for a joke, the more resistant to mirth your audience will be. Likewise, the harder you try to scare them, the more likely they will find reasons not to be. A case in point is that a common trope of the genre is to keep escalating the gore when, in reality, audiences actually get weary of it after the third incidence. Just like sex and nudity, once you have shown everything you possibly can, there’s really nowhere else to go for shock value.
I Play Dead People
If your character is supposed to be dead in a movie, the camera simply cuts away and, if necessary, you’re replaced by a dummy. It’s much harder in a stage play when you’re not allowed to move for the rest of the scene. Do not use this as an excuse to take a nap. Seriously. Don’t.
How Does It All End?
As an actor, you know how the story turns out. Your audience, however, doesn’t know, and it’s your responsibility to “discover” all of the horrifying surprises right along with them. If subconsciously you’re anticipating what you’ll find in the musty trunk, inside the unearthed grave or behind the laboratory door, the last thing you want to do is spoil it for those who have no clue. This particularly applies to scenarios where you brace for a scream just before it happens, jump out of the way of something before it falls, or recoil in horror before actually seeing whatever it is that was supposed to horrify you. These little giveaways diminish the fresh authenticity you’re trying to create.
Give a Listen
SciFi and creature feature flicks from the 1960s yield some of the (unintentionally) funniest examples of actors not listening to each other. Specifically, they are only acting by saying their lines, not reacting by using their facial expressions, gestures and physicality in tandem with internally processing what they have just heard. The latter would require them to pay attention to what the other person was communicating instead of delivering a memorized response to his/her half of the conversation. In fairness, though, what can you do when the most timeless lines of horror dialogue include: “There’s something out there,” “Do you know how crazy that sounds?” “I have a bad feeling about this,” “Uh-oh. We’ve got company,” “We need to get out of here,” “Why are you doing this?” and “Do you know what this means?”
In My Mind’s Eye
Bad acting notwithstanding, there’s a reason vintage horror is typically more successful at causing us to sleep with the lights on than anything modern which imbues urban legends with buckets o’ blood and graphic imagery. That we rarely saw the actual monster or the full effects of its carnage made the whole thing even scarier. Accordingly, your reaction as an actor to a horrifying sight requires the homework of envisioning who or what would scare the living daylights out of you. With the incorporation of so much CGI in today’s films, the likelihood of you acting opposite a monster whose terrifying presence will be filled in later by a computer program makes it even more incumbent to define that monster with your own imagination. After all, how convincingly can you act scared by a tennis ball suspended from the ceiling?
Meet the Author, Christina Hamlett
Former actress and theatre director Christina Hamlett is an award-winning author whose credits to date include 43 books, 209 stage plays, and squillions of articles and interviews. She is also a script consultant for stage and screen and a professional ghostwriter.