[rating=9.00]
To call Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark, the trilogy of horror stories for children by author Alvin Schwartz, which featured terrifyingly iconic illustrations by artist Stephen Gammell, “formative” would be to scratch the surface. Since the publication of the first book in 1981, children have flocked to the series in droves while their parents have protested their sale at PTA book fairs—in the 90s, the series was among the most protested books, with parents everywhere worried that their children would be irrevocably scarred by the horrific tales of violence and terror alongside the macabre illustrations that accompanied them.
For many—myself included—the books were the first step into the world of horror. Looking back now, as an adult, the stories are almost quaint. They’re campfire tales, culled from folklore, wife’s tales, and urban legends and presented to children in tiny two or three page slices that were just as fun as they were gruesome. They remain popular to this day, especially since the ill-advised attempt to change the original illustrations into something more “child friendly” backfired and the original illustrations were brought back.
Given their popularity and the anthology presentation of the books, it’s easy to be skeptical about the new movie version of Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark. Even with a power hitter like Guillermo Del Toro serving as producer and co-writer, recapturing the magic of the series is no easy task. Somehow, they pulled it off. Director André Øvredal has crafted a new Halloween classic that will resonate with viewers of all (well…most) ages, bringing these classic tales of terror to a new generation and in a new medium.
Rather go for a more traditional anthology approach to the stories, the film version of Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark has worked in a connective thread that binds these tales together in the form of friends Stella (Zoe Margaret Colletti), Ramon (Michael Garza), Augie (Gabriel Rush), and Chuck (Austin Zajur). On the run from a bully on Halloween night in 1968, the four explore an old house where, local legend has it, Sarah Bellows weaved black magic in the form of stories she told to children. During their exploration, Stella finds a copy of Sarah’s book and, being a bookworm and horror nut, brings it with her. Little does she know that she has unleashed the vengeful spirit who returns to her old ways, weaving new stories with which she terrifies a new generation to death.
There’s a powerful homage at play with the connective tissue which honors the folkloric history of Schwartz’s young adult masterpieces. Every town and every region seems to have their own version of stories that terrify children at sleepovers and campouts. The creation of Sarah Bellows is a fantastic nod to the way regional horror works, and creates a fascinating in to the world of the film. So, too, does the film’s 1968 setting. Taking place between Halloween night and the election of Richard Nixon, the film plays in a sandbox of uncertainty and terror. Kids are signing up for Vietnam, others are terrified of the draft, others have no idea what to make of the horror befalling the world.
The real life horror serves as the statement of intent for the film, which ultimately examines the purpose of stories, especially scary stories, as a way to understand our world. “Stories hurt; stories heal,” Stella says, reminding us that narrative has always been a way humans have learned to understand their world. It’s an argument Schwartz made and an argument his defenders have been making for almost 40 years now. Yes, the books were gruesome and the illustrations were terrifying. As a generation, however, we learned to confront our fear by simply mustering the courage to turn the page. What new horror awaited us? We had no way to know. But finding out served as a way to confront the horror that life throws at us daily as adults.
Øvredal captures this spirit beautifully, taking his kids on a journey of darkness that speaks to the horrors of a generation. In that way, he’s able to recreate the horror of the original stories in a manner that’s just as engaging as the original books. Using a mix of practical effects and CGI, the film brings to life Gammell’s horrifying illustrations and, yes, they’re just as horrific as they ever were. The unifying conceit of the film allows them to explore five of the tales found in Schwartz’s books, not including the nods and winks at several others. Additionally, they work in a few new angles. The final tale, featuring the shockingly terrifying Jangly Man, an amalgam of monsters both old and new, fits alongside any of the horrors found in the books, and Sarah Bellows herself makes for a wildly fun haunted house tale.
Parents should be warned that younger kids will likely have a hard time with some of the creatures and imagery found in the film. While definitely made with younger audiences in mind, kids without much context might not do well with some of the monsters. The perennially terrifying Harold, for instance, is beyond creepy and the Jangly Man will absolutely send some kids over the edge.
That said, Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark is one of the most fun times I’ve had with a movie all year. It’s the perfect bridge between kid horror and adult horror that is destined to become a Halloween favorite. It manages to capture the spirit and feeling of childhood wonder found reading the books and bring these stories into a new era. It also serves as the perfect reminder that sometimes life is scary and that when confronted with the horror and dread of living sometimes the only thing we can do is, simply, turn to the next page.
Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark is now playing in theaters everywhere.
