The Art of Animating Horror

The compatibility of horror and animation is no easy feat.

Horror is one of the most codified and stereotyped genres in cinema, with decades of films characterized by a wide range of aesthetics, intentions, and mechanics. From the monster movies of the 1930s like Dracula and Frankenstein to contemporary horror franchises, the genre has produced a diverse array of B-movies, giallos, slashers, and psychological thrillers, as well as series like The X-Files and The Twilight Zone. This has led to an increasing difficulty in scaring audiences, who have come to recognize and expect certain tropes.

In the realm of animated horror, the challenge is even greater, as it is more difficult for viewers to empathize with drawn characters. In live-action cinema, detailed capture of an actor’s performance and close-ups of the face and eyes create an intimate connection with the viewer. However, animation is less detailed, less fluid, and less grounded in reality, making jump scares and gore less effective in triggering a visceral reaction.

Despite this double handicap — the increasing demand for more sophisticated and discerning viewers, and the constraint inherent to the medium — it can be seen as a positive thing. This essay will explore some of my favorite works to see why.

Sound Design

Sound design is the first aspect to consider. Sound, or its absence, is often considered the most important element in an audiovisual work. A simple piece of music can give universal reach to a work, set an atmosphere, and reveal more about a character without resorting to expository dialogue. In general, sound design adds coherence, organic and sensory qualities to a work. Poorly executed sound effects, bad mastering, and subpar sound recording equipment can ruin a scene.

In animation, sound design is even more crucial because everything is done in post-production and everything added to the audio landscape is at the discretion of the director and sound designer. With the right sound design, a scene can be elevated and given depth. In most anime, a minimalist sound composition is used, consisting of dialogue over background music and ambient sound. However, when a talented sound designer like Youta Tsuruoka and a director like Ryuutarou Nakamura come together, the result is Serial Experiments Lain, an anime that creates a sense of unease through its exceptional sound work.

The silence in Lain is striking, and the background noises like the humming of transformers, the whirring of hard drives, and other distorted sounds create a sense of alienation and discomfort. The music is used sparingly, often as background, and the intradiegetic sound effects, such as Tōryanse, the famous passage song, and the reverberated voices and extradiegetic sounds, contribute to this feeling. The sound design in Lain allows the viewer to perceive the confusion of reality and virtuality, the loss of identity, and the alienation that are central to the story.

Boogiepop Phantom is another anime with a similar approach to Lain. Once again, Tsuruoka’s sound design is crucial in creating an unsettling atmosphere, with reverb, Tōryanse, Tibetan bowls, saturated car sounds, and so on.

Both Lain and Boogiepop are reminiscent of the surrealistic and grotesque situations, sound design, and mise en scène of David Lynch’s films. In both cases, the animation is not intended to scare, but to disturb and create a sense of unease.

Mise en Scène and Artistic Direction

Exploring the intricate layers of mise en scène and artistic direction, the anime Mononoke (2007) provides a profound case study, particularly in a scene depicting the demise of a man within the confines of an inn.

This analysis illuminates how the mise en scène fosters an atmosphere of tension and discomfort, with a pivotal focus on the utilization of the “off-screen” space.

The concept of “off-screen” plays a crucial role, referring to elements outside the camera’s visible frame, thus not directly observed by the viewer.

This technique encompasses actions within a scene intentionally obscured, cutaway shots that imply rather than show, and narrative components left to the viewer’s imagination.

In the highlighted scene, the audience is made aware of the mercenary’s fate without witnessing the act itself, relying on nighttime visuals of the tavern, the sound of his screams, close-ups of his distressed face, and the fearful expressions of Shino to evoke a sinister ambiance.

Employing unconventional camera shots further intensifies the sense of unease. This method challenges traditional cinematography norms, aiming to disorient rather than orient the viewer, deviating from classical staging to innovate new visual narratives.

Consider the framing of Shino there. Positioned on the left and looking left, a significant portion of the screen is left empty, suggesting an unseen threat from that direction. This strategic placement, coupled with the reluctance to face the threat, amplifies the vulnerability and suspense until the confrontation.

The potency of unusual camera angles is evident, with slightly low and skewed close-ups signaling disarray and instilling unease. In Boogiepop, the obscured portrayal of the synthetic human cop, never directly revealing his face, hints at underlying anomalies despite his ostensibly heroic role.

Mononoke and Boogiepop both exhibit a distinctive stylistic approach that significantly shapes their atmosphere. This includes the grimy, brownish color grading, the ethereal softness of the visuals, and the depiction of a modern Japanese city at night, contributing to the overall mood and thematic depth of the series.

The impact of visual storytelling extends beyond mere composition to the duration of each shot, where pacing plays a critical role in narrative delivery, underscoring the editor’s dual function as director and storyteller. Through these meticulous choices in mise en scène and artistic direction, Mononoke transcends conventional horror to craft a deeply immersive and unsettling experience, demonstrating the power of visual artistry in animation.

Screenplay and Storytelling

Reflecting once more on Mononoke, the tension in a scene is often built through the length of a shot, revealing that maintaining suspense through carefully timed cuts is a nuanced art. It’s about finding the perfect balance; too short, and the moment fails to leave an impact, too long, and it risks becoming tedious. These techniques are not just about crafting horror but enriching the narrative depth and emotional resonance of a piece. The power of storytelling, the choice of what to show and what to leave unseen, plays a pivotal role in engaging the audience, making them emotionally invest in the characters and the story.

Whether it’s exploring dark themes through metaphor in Mononoke or delving into the complexities of human and non-human motivations in Boogiepop, what remains clear is the importance of creative rigor and the ability to transcend traditional narrative and cinematographic boundaries. This not only challenges viewers but invites them to partake in a more immersive and reflective viewing experience.

Additionally, even though I’ve devoted quite some time to this section, I don’t want to give the impression that the revered directing prowess of a so-called godlike director is the sole determinant of a work’s success or failure in achieving its intent. That’s not to say I have any objection to formalist style exercises aimed merely at showcasing beautiful imagery. However, in my view, these remain just that — an exercise in style.

To imbue a work with genuine significance, making it resonate and evoke real feelings that audiences can internalize, it seems only logical that writing plays a crucial role. In fact, it appears to be an essential step in almost any scenario, even for the simplest of ideas. This is because if the narrative is flawed and the characters unrelatable or detestable, it casts a shadow over everything else, deterring audience engagement. My point isn’t to advocate for complicating matters to the brink of information overload but rather to advocate for a clean, streamlined foundation. For instance, I believe it’s vital for an action movie to have a straightforward, coherent story with appealing characters whose motivations are clear, so the audience isn’t lost wondering why there’s a barrage of action unfolding before their eyes. Otherwise, it disrupts the entire flow of the action and might just kill the groove.

But let’s grease the wheels (so to speak) and shift back to the realm of horror. In the final act of our journey, let’s discuss the screenplay.

Take Mononoke as a random example. Here, we delve into the concept of Mononoke — a synergy between human emotions and an ayakashi, or supernatural entity. From a storytelling perspective, this presents a brilliant opportunity to explore dark, yet very mundane themes such as abortion, confinement, incest, and so forth, in a hyperbolic or metaphorical manner. Essentially, it’s a stylistic maneuver, anthropomorphizing abstract ailments by embodying them in a vengeful spirit, thereby facilitating the catharsis of these issues through the exorcism of the Mononoke. Catharsis, as I’ve defined in previous discussions, is the purification of human passions through their dramatic expulsion.

Within Boogiepop lies a whole mythology of urban legends and conspiracies that stand confidently alongside the likes of The X-Files. Though the anime’s density primarily benefits those familiar with the original light novel, it remains that numerous events unfold and interconnect naturally, offering a sense of coherence and depth to the narrative.

I want to emphasize the particular aspect of special humans who, despite their powers, harbor very human motivations.

Echoes, for instance, serves a similar role to traditional folklore in Mononoke, granting powers to troubled teens thereby magnifying their distress and transforming them into living metaphors for prejudice and alienation, elevating them beyond mere humanity. Even non-human entities like Echoes, Boogiepop, or Manticore are imbued with motivations and represent something significant, enriching the narrative fabric.

In Serial Experiments Lain, the narrative complexity is deceptively simplistic at first glance, delving deep into the realms of cyberspace, the noosphere, the boundaries between reality and perception, artificial intelligence, and various other futuristic constructs. However, at the heart of this intricate web lies Lain, a shy young girl with a simple desire to connect with others and be noticed, to affirm her identity’s existence.

This fundamental need propels the story into an intricate exploration of multiple personalities and the fragmentation of Lain’s identity across the network. Starting as a reserved teenager, we gradually discover that Lain is something akin to a cyber deity, wielding the power to manipulate the fabric of reality through her connections. This element makes the series especially resonant and accessible, as it is firmly rooted in its era. Released in 1998, the anime captures societal anxieties surrounding the advent of the Internet, which was then just beginning to enter the mainstream. Its relevance has only grown over time, mirroring the escalation of our ultra-connected world.

Turning to The End of Evangelion, particularly the scene where Asuka confronts the Eva Series, we find a departure from direct horror. Yet, the underlying emotional and thematic currents align closely with those of horror. This scene, while terrifying due to its sound design and the grotesque design of the Eva Series, gains its true power from the buildup of Asuka’s character over the course of the Neon Genesis Evangelion series.

Viewers have witnessed her struggles, her façade of strength, her battle with depression following her defeat by Arael, and her triumphant return to battle, showcasing her unbridled fury in what becomes the series’ most memorable confrontation. Every moment in this battle is magnified by Mitsuo Iso’s meticulous animation, lending each action a sense of monumental impact. However, the realization that all her efforts were in vain, that her strength ultimately could not avert the inevitability of the Third Impact, plunges the viewer into a deep emotional trough. This sudden emotional descent, from the heights of hope to the depths of despair, leaves one feeling helpless in the face of the monstrous Eva Series, transforming them from mere machines into genuinely terrifying entities. It’s in this moment that the viewer can physically feel Asuka’s pain and rage, understand her frustration, and her desperate struggle for survival. This is why, for me, this scene stands as one of the most powerful in all of anime, leaving an indelible mark on my psyche. Thank you.

Some Concluding Thoughts

Indeed, I could persist in providing example after example. However, it seems appropriate to draw this discussion to a close. I trust in the intelligence of my audience, believing you’ve grasped the essence of my argument: that atmosphere in storytelling is a holistic construct. It’s crafted within complete works that skillfully leverage every aspect of their medium, from sound design and cinematography to the engagement of the audience’s willing suspension of disbelief. Composition is key, as is the strategic placement of elements at the most impactful moments. This is how anime transcends its limitations — constraints that demand creative ingenuity to produce compelling results despite the medium’s inherent restrictions.

Isn’t it remarkable to witness such creativity flourish within an industry built on constraints like limited animation? It’s a testament to the adage that diamonds are formed under pressure, a principle that holds true in artistic creation as well. Creativity, in my eyes, isn’t about pulling ideas out of thin air but rather about recognizing the obstacles in one’s path and finding innovative ways to navigate around them. For instance, relying on jump scares is a shallow tactic; crafting an atmosphere that slowly builds tension and unease, akin to what’s seen in Jacob’s Ladder, is where true artistry lies.

Works that embody this understanding are those that will stand the test of time, while those that opt for simplicity will quickly become fleeting trends, eventually fading into the annals of cinema history as relics of a bygone era. They may be interesting to revisit for context, but on their own, they’re as engaging as a drizzly day. Meanwhile, creations like Serial Experiments Lain may one day be seen as narratively outdated, but the core experience, the very essence of the work, will remain timeless and universally resonant. Not confined to being Japanese, horror, or cyberpunk, but simply, profoundly human.

In the realm of storytelling and artistic expression, it is the depth of thought, the intention behind the composition, and the ability to evoke emotion that elevate a work from mere entertainment to a piece of art that resonates across cultures and generations. The journey through the landscapes of horror and animation, as explored in this discussion, illuminates the boundless possibilities that arise when creators embrace their constraints, channel their creativity, and craft narratives that not only entertain but also connect with the human experience at its most fundamental level.