“What Coven fails to realize is that while horror is supposed to be shocking, it is how the horror elements are used that defines their effectiveness, not the quantity of tropes applied.” —Zoë DiGiorgio
It has been said that “art is meant to disturb.” However, it doesn’t seem as if American Horror Story: Coven understands what that means.
American Horror Story: Coven, which premiered Oct. 9 on FX, was my first introduction to the American Horror Story series. Though it is technically the show’s third season, I was told that I easily could join in because each season tells a complete, self-contained story.
I knew the show was supposed to be scary — that was evident from the title — but given its popularity, I wondered what kind of terrors to expect from a cable horror drama created by the guys responsible for Glee.
The first episode was intriguing but also slightly repulsive; the grotesque has become the show’s trademark. However, while there is a degree to which the series’ ceaseless parade of horrors makes for gripping television, it functions mostly as shock without purpose.
Although I love Halloween and enjoy the occasional scary movie, it is rare for me to willingly pull up a slasher flick on Netflix and make an evening of it. Coven is different from typical cheesy horror movies, even the first two seasons, and for that reason, I was drawn to it. It is, in some ways, a highbrow sort of horror, focusing more on creating plot than a bloodbath, unlike Friday the 13th. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t pull punches elsewhere.
The first few minutes of Coven consist of a period drama: It looks at Madame LaLaurie, a real life New Orleans socialite in the early 1830s who tortured and mutilated her slaves in bizarre ways and used their blood to make a facial salve for herself. The episode then cuts to the present, when teenager Zoe witnesses her boyfriend’s horrific, bloody death while the two are having sex for the first time.
After finding out she is a witch, Zoe is sent to Miss Robichaux’s Academy in New Orleans, which is like Hogwarts meets Carrie. Zoe and the other witches learn about their abilities and their heritage, which includes the evil Madame LaLaurie, as well as their mission to preserve the dwindling bloodline of witches.
As the shocks pile on, the quality of writing decreases; the episode features multiple deaths, including a young witch being burned at the stake, a telekinetic bus crash and multiple rape scenes. The first episode alone felt like a horror trilogy unto itself, but the following episodes of Coven have featured bizarre sex scenes, demonic rituals, mutilated body parts, incest and, of course, more death than you can shake a wand at.
In all, the show just feels like a ghastly spectacle borrowing liberally from HBO’s True Blood, Brad Falchuk and Ryan Murphy’s Glee and assorted horror and high school drama tropes. The show seems oddly self-aware, as if it knows that it can’t get away with the nudity and blood that True Bloodcan, but it sure tries.
The worst part is that, now, the surprises seem just to build on one another for the sake of being shocking. Some of them don’t serve to advance the plot or just have been left there. This kind of thin writing isn’t uncommon for Murphy and Falchuk, the show’s creators; it is the foundation on whichGlee is built.
More importantly, these shocks can be potent for only so long. How many mutilated torsos or fiery sex rituals can you sit through before the strangeness stops being shocking and starts becoming trite?
What Coven fails to realize is that while horror is supposed to be shocking, it is how the horror elements are used that defines their effectiveness, not the quantity of tropes applied.
The best example of this is the classic crime-horror drama Silence of the Lambs. The majority of the movie was filled with suspense rather than outright horror, but it is memorable for its few artfully crafted horror scenes, which stand out from the bulk of the film. Clarice’s first visit to Hannibal Lecter’s prison, Buffalo Bill dancing in front of the mirror and Hannibal’s escape all use sexuality, mutilation and cannibalism in such a twisted way that the shocking elements are potent and memorable.
Having tripled that number of horror elements in a one-hour show just leaves American Horror Story: Coven a tangled, sticky web of shock without purpose.
