Scary movies make me feel at home with horror

Now, if I watch a scary one, I couldn't sleep for a week - despite my hubby snoring away contentedly next to me."

I love watching scary movies - at home, that is, since I hardly get to go to the movies - even though I keep my eyes tightly shut when the really spooky turns come about. A lot of my friends say they admire me greatly for this particular trait of mine. "You live alone, how do you manage to sleep at night? Now, if I watch a scary one, I couldn't sleep for a week - despite my hubby snoring away contentedly next to me."
Well, what do I say, I manage. I think I feel safe at home because I know the folks who live on the other side of my bedroom wall, so if the spooks or the axe murderer do show up, I'll only need to scream loudly and they'll (hopefully) come to my rescue.
Halloween was a couple of weeks ago; the reason why I mention the scare fest is because I had my first tryst with horror, thanks to a film called Halloween (if I remember correctly, it was Jamie Lee Curtis's launch pad) - via oral history. My uncle had, with sadistic glee, told me the story of the psychopath who's let loose on Halloween, and who then proceeds to go on a killing spree. I was about 7 or 8. And already hooked. My family also had a love fest going on with Alfred Hitchcock; subsequently, I was brought up on a cinematic diet of offerings by 'The Master' (as my father used to call him). Hitch was never drop-dead scary - except in Psycho and possibly Frenzy - but his macabre streak had my household in thraldom.
Horror/scary movies have so many spin offs. When my parents and a couple of their friends went to watch The Exorcist in the theatre ("night show" for added impact), somebody threw a black cat from the balcony (remember how the theatres of yore had balconies and dress circles?); the cat landed safely on its feet somewhere close to where they were sitting, but everyone around almost had a heart attack; a hysterical woman had to be gently ushered out by her companion; and no, the culprit - the cat thrower - couldn't be taken to task because he had already merged into the noir background.
While watching Jaws, one of my relatives had his forearms scratched repeatedly by the woman (a total stranger) sitting next to him; post-show, he came to my mother to roundly complain. "Every time the damn shark was making an entry, this lady would shriek, and clutch my forearm. she had long nails, and see what happened! Give me some Dettol now!"
I myself remember these two extremely nattily-turned-out women sitting behind me as Silence of the Lambs unfolded in front of me. Half the time, they had their eyes shielded with their hands. It just seemed so strange. I kept looking back at them, and missed most of Hannibal Lecter's scary stuff; had to book tickets again.
The scariest film I've (probably) watched is The Omen (the first instalment starring Gregory Peck and Lee Remick); it's an exercise in understatement of the horrifying. And the biggest letdown is The Shining (again, probably); I thought it was almost slapstick with its in-your-face blood and gore (though I had my eyes closed for the most part).
But the best - the very best - horror film reference came from a chap I had bumped into at the British Council Library (BCL) in Calcutta (I hate calling it Kolkata). I was in high school, and it was expected of me to do academic/literary rounds at BCL during my summer holidays. So this guy I met, while I was trying to find a 'light read' in the midst of the collected works of Christopher Marlowe and Richard Sheridan, started talking movies. I'll take a movie over a book any day, so I enthusiastically joined in.
"What's your favourite genre of films?" I wanted to know.
"Horror," he said gravely, looking a bit like Jack Torrance (or so I thought). "I feel like watching them all the time. You know why? Because they'd give me the chance to snuggle up to my girlfriend."
- sushmita@khaleejtimes.com