Cosmic horror is not your typical horror.
As a long-time fan of H.P. Lovecraft and other authors of 'weird' fiction, I have a tendency to prefer what is known as 'cosmic horror' to other forms of fear media. I remember the first time I watched the movie Event Horizon; I didn't do any research, it came up on my Netflix feed and I thought it was a typical sci-fi action type film. I liked Lawrence Fishburn and Sam Neill, so I figured it would be a decent, thoughtful bit of space exploration entertainment.
I was terrified. I made the mistake of watching it alone. Upstairs. In the dark. The movie was released in 1997, so I was at least 33 years old, and well beyond the age at which I should be scared of boogeymen in the dark, but this movie really shook me, and I think I know why.
It took away my confidence that my mind was an honest broker. It made me doubt that simply because I 'knew' something, that it was in fact true. It caused me to question my ability, as a limited biological organism, to really comprehend existence, and all that comes with it. I was adrift, alone and unprotected. I didn't even know what threats might exist, or how they could affect me.
This, to me, is the essence of cosmic horror.
A Matter of Perspective
Cosmic horror has been defined before, usually relating it to humanity's inability to comprehend reality, realizing our insignificance in terms of the vastness of the universe, and how really coming to grips with this idea has the potential to drive people 'mad.' The genre is most strongly associated with the writings of H.P. Lovecraft and other pulp-era writers, but the concept is far deeper and more ancient than that. Staring into the night sky is humbling and terrifying for any sentient creature; these authors merely found a way to make a boring intellectual concept intriguing: they added tentacles (and much more).
No one really thinks that a tentacle monster lives inside a book, but we have all had ideas in books reach out and grab our mind, change our lives.
Moving to the Stage
Trying to incorporate this kind of approach to horror in a stage play presented a challenge, but I approached it from my background in role-playing games.
The most realistic theater is the theater of the mind. The things that you can imagine are far more impactful, far more interesting and far more frightening than anything I can dream up. Cosmic horror is very much an internal thing, and in order to be effective, a cosmic horror play needs to get inside the audience's collective mind, and give it a push in the direction of the abyss. Hopefully, I have found a way (or several ways) to do this.
Will it scare you?
I don't expect people to run screaming from the theater, or to pass out from fear or even to go insane. I don't think that this play will be a 'jump scare' type of experience. What I do hope is that it will be unsettling, perhaps in subconscious ways, and will give you an experience, a confrontation with the infinite, that will bring you to question everything that you believe.
If the idea of sitting in a dark room with a horde of strangers while watching a play about a play that is rumored to drive audiences mad is your idea of a good time, then mark the date, and join us for the world premier of The Yellow Sign. November 11-13th, 2022 at Playhouse in the Park, in Murray, Kentucky.
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