"The idea of running around and screaming about Jason Voorhees trying to kill you was fun"
About this Quote
There is a sly bait-and-switch in Lexa Doig framing terror as play: “running around and screaming” is the grammar of a slasher film, but she treats it like a day at summer camp. The line lands because it’s both candid and lightly defiant, puncturing the mystique around horror acting. Instead of pretending it’s psychologically punishing, she foregrounds the craft’s most physical, unglamorous labor: sprinting, shrieking, and selling panic on command.
Name-checking Jason Voorhees does extra work. He’s not just a character; he’s a brand of fear with a hockey mask. Invoking him instantly conjures a whole cultural machine: franchise mythology, fan expectations, and the ritual pleasures of being chased in a world where the rules are known. Doig’s “idea of” hints at the gap between concept and execution, a wink at how actors enter these iconic universes: you’re not actually in danger, but you are inside an inherited template that demands believable dread.
The subtext is professional pride without pretension. She’s acknowledging the paradox at the heart of screen horror: the audience comes for adrenaline, the performers manufacture it through controlled, often repetitive technique. Calling it “fun” reclaims agency in a genre that can reduce women to victims. It’s also a quiet tribute to horror as a collaborative playground - where make-believe fear becomes a shared, strangely joyful experience.
Name-checking Jason Voorhees does extra work. He’s not just a character; he’s a brand of fear with a hockey mask. Invoking him instantly conjures a whole cultural machine: franchise mythology, fan expectations, and the ritual pleasures of being chased in a world where the rules are known. Doig’s “idea of” hints at the gap between concept and execution, a wink at how actors enter these iconic universes: you’re not actually in danger, but you are inside an inherited template that demands believable dread.
The subtext is professional pride without pretension. She’s acknowledging the paradox at the heart of screen horror: the audience comes for adrenaline, the performers manufacture it through controlled, often repetitive technique. Calling it “fun” reclaims agency in a genre that can reduce women to victims. It’s also a quiet tribute to horror as a collaborative playground - where make-believe fear becomes a shared, strangely joyful experience.
Quote Details
| Topic | Movie |
|---|---|
| Source | Help us find the source |
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