There’s a genre out there, and I can’t quite put my finger on it. It’s rural weirdoes who decide to make their own media and deliberately play up the scuzzy low-rent aspects of their milieu. Deliberately bad trippy 70s vibes, but not necessarily taking place in the seventies (the Michigan noise brotherhood is a perfect example of this vibe). Very DIY, very scummy, very cough syrup and strobe lights and banging on silos and using abandoned farm equipment as murder set pieces. It’s King Cobra in the graveyard and figuring out the best recipe for fake blood which you try not to get on the camera you checked out from the community college. It’s not just low-budget. You see a creepy looking kid in an army coat with bad skin and Burroughs paperbacks in his backpack and chipped black nail polish, that kid knows exactly what I’m talking about. You’re in a relationship with the Ugly Spirit. You can’t explain it to anybody because they’re all figuring out what they’re going to do when they grow up, how if they work at the plant for a few years they can put some money down on a house and have kids and you’re pulling apart children’s toys at the St. Vincent de Paul looking for ICs and Bible cards to make collages with. Your girlfriend is a ghost, and she haunts your dreams, and no one else can see her, and you think you’re insane, and you think if you’re going to be crazy you might as well document this stuff because it’ll make good footage. You record conversations with homeless people because if you’re on the recording end there’s a difference, and you spend hours mangling tape because the sound of voices warped and frayed suggests alternate potentials, dreams of black stars. You are a bucket for other people’s grief, and you wish you could throw up, but you can’t, and it sits inside you like a stone, so you think maybe there’s something I can do with this, some way to get some distance, some way for me not to spend my entire life sitting alone in a room. You see that in Last House on Dead End Street, and Massacre at Central High, and Deadbeat at Dawn, and The Texas Chain Saw Massacre, and Three on a Meathook, and you kinda see it in Invasion of the Girl Snatchers. I wish I had a word for what that genre is.