I do love American fall. Otherwise known as Australian spring. New shows, new premiere, ahhh. Of all different genres. Then there is American Horror Story. I was bound to enjoy this one. I should have? I expected to? There was probably hype around this one because its been a while since there has been a gothic-horror tale on TV and I can only think of the Walking Dead as being its nearest comparison (of late). With Connie Britton (Coach Taylor’s wife in Friday Night Lights) and Dylan McDermott as leads, with Ryan Murphy and Brad Falchuk (creators of Nip/Tuck and Glee) at the helm, there was a lot to be intrigued by.
Boy, let me tell you, American Horror Story (AHS) is as far from Glee, as you could get.
As much as I love my horror, and even underwent the Horror Movie Challenge last year, subjected to all styles of the genre; I couldn’t get through the entire pilot episode. I’m ashamed of that. I like to give something at least one episode, but this was so all over the place, so scattered, it felt as if we were watching it mid-conversation. As if we’d missed any sort of backstory, or even an introduction to the lead characters that there was no actual feeling for them. It was such a glum and depressing representation of family, you’d honestly need some sort of raucous comedy afterwards to make up for it.
In my humble but stubborn opinion, I just think you need to have at least a protagonist or family in this case to be some representation of ‘ordinary’ if you’re to cast them in a haunted setting, or just an oddball, freaky, setting with kooky neighbours and a Down’s Syndrome afflicted girl repeating ‘you’re going to die in there’ constantly, and smiling. It had these moments of potential and definite scare factor, but the confusion by far outweighed the long term scares, and I won’t be watching again. Well. Unless someone I trust with TV show recommendations tells me to. But not right now!
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