
When I was a kid, I loved going to my local videostore and renting out scary movies. There were two aisles dedicated to them: terror films & horror films. Terror films encompassed anything that relied heavely on suspense, with a pinch of murder and death thrown in. Examples would be the films by Alfred Hitchcock, Jaws and so forth. The horror aisle, on the other hand, was the domain of anything with gore, excessive violence and disreputable production value. I loved both aisles equally, but I tended to pick up movies from the horror section more often: their lurid and colourful covers made me curious about what lay inside; I'd get a kick out of movies like Chopping Mall or April Fool's Day not because they were classic films but because I got a childish thrill from guessing who'd be alive by the end, and who would be the killer.
I always thought of myself as someone who knew the horror genre well, and I think people close to me began to believe that too. But, after watching Hostel last night, I've realized how out of the loop I've been, and how little I actually know about this genre.
( Review of Hostel - may include spoilers )