This week alone, we are seeing two horror flicks selling more than 2 million tickets in just one week of showing. They are Badarawuhi di Desa Penari (Dancing Village: The Curse Begins) and Siksa Kubur (Grave Torture).

The two movies come from prominent pedigrees.

Badarawuhi is the prequel to 2022’s giga-hit KKN di Desa Penari (Curse of the Dancing Village), which currently sits supreme as Indonesia’s bestselling movie with more than 10 million tickets sold. The film is directed by Kimo Stamboel, whose horror catalog has been widely received throughout the years.

Siksa Kubur is the latest offering from famed auteur Joko Anwar who has a successful track record of horror films under his belt. His remake of cult-classic Pengabdi Setan (Satan’s Slaves) and its original sequel pulled a total of more than 10.5 million tickets.

It is important to note that, on the current bestselling list, the second spot is held by horror-tinged comedy Agak Laen (Slightly Different), released earlier this year, with 9.1 million tickets.

While these movies have big budgets and are produced by big studios and directors, even with meager budgets and campy effects, horror films hold a cherished place in the public consciousness, especially those with classic ghouls like kuntilanak and pocong transcending the silver screen to become iconic figures in popular culture.

Scholars around the world drawing on psychology, biology and film theory have concluded the viewers’ thrill comes from experiencing fear in a safe space. To this end, horror films seek to straddle the line between more and more convincing scares, all while trying their best to suspend disbelief.

But if films mirror society, its desires and its fears, then what does a horror movie reflect? This too has become a large academic discourse.

Around the world, horror films are often seen as articulations of the felt social concerns of the time. In North America, for example, it is common to connect 1950s sci-horror to an interlinked cluster of themes, including the threat of alien invasion, the risks of nuclear power and the roles of science and scientists.

At home, scholars have also pointed out how sociocultural and political tensions and conflicts play roles in the dynamics of Indonesian horror films, from the 1970s, which were dominated by psychological horror featuring psychopathic antagonists, to the late 1980s and the reform era, where supernatural beings, like the aforementioned kuntilanak and pocong became the dominant bad guys.

Indonesian horror films have also been noted for social reflection, and then generating criticism, with depictions of female ghosts who were loving mothers or women before they turned horrifying.

In the common trope, kuntilanak is a woman who died at childbirth or died delivering a stillborn, while sundel bolong is a woman who was raped and became pregnant, then died at childbirth. These female ghosts share a similar background as victims of gender inequality and sexual violence.

The rise of supernatural horror has also been seen to relate with, if not receiving contributions from, the growing symbolization and ideological influence of Islam.

Indication of this can be seen in how recent horror films receive backlash from moviegoers due to the increasing use of religious symbolism in their plots, which many called overused and “abusive”.

It also drew the ire of the Indonesian Ulema Council (MUI) after it looked into the poster of an upcoming horror film Kiblat and found it to be heavily misrepresenting Islam’s prayer practices.

Horror films are not merely vessels of terror but also cultural expression, reflecting the nation's rich tapestry of folklore, mythology and communal anxieties, but one which is also not immune to the trappings of commercialization and sensationalism.

As a critical audience, from horror films, we can get insights into the societal tensions and power dynamics that shape Indonesian culture while sitting on the edge of our seats, hearts pounding and cold sweats trickling.