When a horror subgenre goes mainstream, it does so explosively. Works multiply, and fans go out of their way to make time to watch everything, but sometimes the material finds us first... and a good example is analog horror. On the surface, this subgenre uses outdated technologies like CRT televisions, VHS tapes, and signals from old stations to tell unsettling stories, but if we dig a little deeper, we find much more...
Three Young People in the Woods and a Pile of Letters
In 1999, The Blair Witch Project hit theaters, and something changed in the horror genre. Purists may not like this conclusion, but its impact is hard to deny. I refer to its popularization of found footage, a subgenre it didn't invent (Cannibal Holocaust predates Blair Witch by 19 years), but which it certainly fueled.
The Last Horror Movie, Paranormal Activity, Rec, Cloverfield, V/H/S... found footage dominated the first decade of the 21st century almost as much as slashers dominated the '80s, but instead of disappearing, it experienced a kind of evolutionary leap.
Something similar can be said of found footage in relation to the epistolary novel, that is, a novel narrated through letters. Both Frankenstein and Dracula are the first examples that come to mind, but if the epistolary novel provided a certain fundamental structure to found footage, what comes next? Although some sources speak of an offshoot or spinoff, there is some consensus in seeing analog horror as its direct heir.
Analog Horror, the New Terror on the Internet
As its name suggests, an essential aspect of analog horror is that each element seems to have been produced before digitization and analog shutdowns, but it's not a hard rule that must be obeyed.
In reality, the goal is not simply to simulate the tracking of a VCR or the poor resolution of a black-and-white camera, but to incorporate those technical limitations into the narrative, generating a lack of information, discomfort, and tension. We know that something serious and intense hides in the glitches, the screen jumps, and the excess contrast... but we can't look away until it's too late.
At the same time, another of the most powerful ingredients in analog horror is apathy or "dehumanization". Many of these stories use some kind of organization or agency to share the central details, applying an analytical/educational tone even when the situation has completely gotten out of control.
Think of a "STAY CALM AND REMAIN INDOORS" emitted by a tube television with the classic emergency tone blasting from its speaker, while screams of terror and desperation are heard outside.
This kind of scene is very frequent in analog horror, but a large number of creators out there have managed to take different shortcuts, melting brains left and right.
Finally, a third characteristic component of analog horror is the hijacking and manipulation of broadcasts.
On more than one occasion, the messages are directly contradictory, suggesting a struggle between the real creator of the content and some evil influence trying to sabotage the process... or maybe it's the other way around?
Okay, Where Do We Start?
Local 58, also known as Local58 WCLV-TV, is a creation of Kris Straub, whom we know for the creepypasta Candle Cove from 2009. The videos are presented as if they were different broadcasts and programs belonging to the signal of a public television channel called Local 58. The total shorts available on YouTube are nine, but Kris has published eleven (so you have homework), and they are a guaranteed binge watch. Without sharing too many spoilers, I can only say three things:
- Don't trust the GPS voice.
- Don't listen to the government, ever.
- Don't look at the Moon, or its light.
The Mandela Catalogue is a bit more chaotic in its organization, but as English speakers would say, it's the nature of the beast.
The project combines CCTV cameras, religious cartoon programs, instant messaging apps, and phone calls to tell the story of Mandela County, a fictional county located in southeastern Wisconsin. A drastic reduction in population, the massive disappearance of children, strange and unsettling doppelgängers, a police officer trying to uncover the truth, and a threat of biblical proportions form the essence of Mandela Catalogue, which its creator Alex Kister has kept relatively updated over the past two years.
