There’s a new name for terror…
And it’s too much for me to handle.
Yup, that’s right, you read it here. There is a horror movie out there that I can’t watch because of how I react to it (although I did have a psychotic break while watching IN DREAMS back in the day, unrelated to the movie, but it happened anyway). CUJO. I can’t watch CUJO. I’ve seen CUJO, I thought CUJO was a damn good film. I must believe that because I bought it on Blu-ray. But I put it in, looked at the main menu, and started having deep pangs of sadness, followed by a panic attack.
Here’s why. The difference between the me that saw and enjoyed CUJO as a horror movie, and the me that can’t watch it at all? I own a dog. Well, back in the day my family owned a dog. But this is MY dog. Rorschach is his name, and he is wonderful, and while not a St. Bernard, it’s easy to blur the lines.
If you don’t own a dog, CUJO is really good and scary because it’s pretty much a real life situation (slightly heightened) of horror. Give it a watch, unless you own a dog, than you’ll just be traumatized.
Congratulations Stephen King, you’re a dick.