liminal horror and the appeal of the backrooms
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The past couple of weeks, the internet has been aflutter with praise of Backrooms, which we caught in a late night screening the night it came out. It's one I, and apparently the whole of the internet horror community had been anxiously awaiting (I first heard it was happening back when I was writing about horror for GameRant, where everyone in the workplace chat was super excited.) I also have an attraction to the horror of spaces, of liminal spaces in particular. I've been thinking about this as I collect pieces for the upcoming eco-gothic anthology I've been working on. What makes these manufactured / built spaces often far more terrifying than traditional gothic ones (the woods, the haunted old house, caves and caverns).
These spaces are often abandoned (or seem abandoned if not completely.) They are spaces once meant to be filled with people, so when empty, especially when in various states of disrepair, they seem creepier than ever. Decaying old malls are some of my favorite ruinporn, especially when I can see what they once were by their bones. The long lines that dwindles, the empty shelves and aisles of department stores. Movie theaters, especially the larger multiplexes have a similar feel, especially if they were built in the late 90s/ early aughts when movie crowds were larger and entertainment options more limited. One of the theaters we hit up regularly out in Skokie is your traditional shopping center multiplex with a sprawling footprint. The larger main center where the concessions area gives way to corridors on either side, which until last year, had auxilary concession counters, emptied of their cups and snacks (I noticed the Rockford theater had similar counters no longer in use.) The Skokie theater, when we first started going, actually had a parking structure outside that was a few levels and connected to the theater overhead, but never really filled beyond the first or second level until they knocked it down last year.
These spaces do not merely feel "empty" since you could say that about any space, from a home that is uninhabited to a field absent of people or things. No, these spaces feel "deserted," which is subtly different. Like they were once filled with bodies, but now, only the ways to accommodate those bodies remain. So you have these long winding concession lines that really only hold 1 or 2 people at a time. Even when the Skokie theater is hopping, it feels empty everywhere but the concessions area, especially on weeknights and slower release weekends. Since we see a lot of late night screenings, mostly the insides of the theater are empty too. The smaller un-renovated seats look like they were meant to pack in crowds that no longer exist. Newer theaters we go to, I'd say post 2010 are often more modest in screen numbers and smaller in their public spaces. They seem right-sized now, more than a decade later, with smaller crowds and audiences. New City and the Roosevelt Collection theaters are multiple screens, but interior public spaces are smaller in the streaming era. There are vintage restored theaters in the mix, too, like the Logan and Music Box. Also, Alamo, which has a very different vibe from the older theaters. Some theaters have adapted to the downscale well (like the Landmark Century down in Lakeview, though this one is a more recent addition (it was gym/health club topping the mall back in the 90s.) Or the 600 North Michigan ones along the Mag Mile that used to be a favorite for me when going to movies solo in the aughts.
Of course, its not just movie theaters. The city and burbs are full of empty big-box stores that faltered amid changing retail practices. Most have been stripped of shelving and racks and exist as these large open spaces that bear the markings of their previous use--carpet stains and discolored walls. These are the spaces that exist in Backrooms and draw their horror from not only the terrible yellowish glow of the fixtures and broken furniture, but its few disturbing inhabitants that are distorted by perception and memory. It brings to mind the horror if one were to encounter a Picasso portrait in real life. These newly gothic spaces (if you could even call them that by the existing definition of "gothic" ) harbor so much more than just their mere emptyness that is disturbing. This is also scratches a different sort of horror itch than a very similar movie we saw a few weeks back, EXIT 8, which used liminal spaces excellently to create its horror, but the thesis or point seems very different.
Actually, an interesting contrast I noted was when we were really early for a show at the The Auditorium, and entered to find huge swathes of empty seats that are usually full when we arrive closer to curtain. And yet this space, while empty, was not creepy at all, since all or most of those seats were soon to be filled. Ditto, with vast and winding spaces like museums or bustling airports (though these can have their liminal moments, too.) Many pieces I've read on the success of Backrooms focus on the appeal to Gen Z/ younger audiences and the schism in experiences between them and older folks because of digital media and the pandemic. Public spaces, like theaters, restaurants, etc, in general, have been filling up in the half decade since, but if you were in your formative years, you maybe never had the pre-pandemic public life Millennials, X-ers, and Boomers experienced.
With my love of decaying and deserted spaces and other kinds of ruinporn (obv. since I named a whole book that..lol..) this is of course, something that fascinates me and my horror brain and may just result in some writing or visual projects down the line.
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