As the deadline for our portfolio project creeps forward, we're in a pickle. My group and I have yet to start filming due to timing constraints within my group. We've all been busy, weekends and weekdays. Well, now it's time to pick up our slack and get filming, but before anything, we need planning.
My group and I had a very heated debate (sarcasm) a while ago about what font to use for our film opening, especially considering that fonts make up a good chunk of the film's tone set. I argued that we ought to use a simplistic font, because we're not trying to have our viewers use their eyes for the first 15 seconds of the opening, but rather, their ears since most things will be auditory. Alejandro agreed with me and suggested that we should use a typewriter font, to give a sense of the unknown, because the viewers will be walking into something they don't know about. However, Joaquin was on a whole different page. He suggested we use a graffiti style font, but using a graffiti style font would throw off the tone of the film, giving it a messy, rebellious vibe, when, in reality, our film is supposed to fill the viewer with a sense of dread and hopelessness (this is me exaggerating, but you get the point).
Overall, we all agreed to use the typewriter font called "Miriam Fixed" which was what Alejandro had initially suggested.
The different fonts we all had in mind for the title: "MEEK"
Audio is vital to any film opening because it sets the narrative for the rest of the film. For my team and I's opening, we plan to start the opening with a black screen, with audio overlaying the screen one by one. The black screen rids the viewer of their sense of sight, leaving all other senses sensitive and heightened. We're using this to our advantage. With different audio of a door banging, dog barking, and alarm ringing, all entering the black screen one by one, being overlayed. This creates a type of sensory overload, setting the narrative as one that is aggressive, sharp, and without order.
Black screen that will take up the screen while the audio overlaying does its thing
Mise-en-scène isn’t only about lighting—it’s about storytelling. The entire point of mise-en-scene is to tell stories through objects, textures, and what they mean for the story. They’re the little details that make the big picture. Here, step into this scene: piles of dirty clothes in various wrinkles, some stiff with age, and others still damp from sweat and regret. The room reeks of exhaustion, and each crumpled shirt and forgotten sock narrate a different story of neglect over time. Shadows gather in the deepest darkest corners of the room, and the air is thick with the weight of time.
Slowly, surfaces holding the residue of cocaine come into frame, a desperation dusting every available surface. It clings to the edges of a scratched coffee table, lingering. It marks a cycle of repetition; everytime a surface gets wiped down, it only gets dirtied again, so why even bother? The light catches the fine particles, making them shine like false promises. The mise-en-scène tells us this isn’t luxury, but rather that this is survival in excess, a white downward spiral.
Finally, at the center of it all, a mattress just on the floor. There’s no bed frame and there are no sheets, just a bare rectangle of sturdiness. It’s the stage for the nights that are restless and beg for a show, it’s a makeshift raft in an ocean of clutter. The mise-en-scène is with purpose and tells us: this is not a space of comfort, but of despair.
This is the setting for my film opening. People always said I wasgood with imagery.
When designing a scene that commands attention and stirs emotions, lighting is one of THE most powerful tools at the disposer of the filmmaker. Cause, guess what? Light is everywhere! Green lighting, in particular, has this crazy ability to create such a dreadful visual atmosphere that feels unnerving, and daunting. The use of this dramatic green light gives the viewer a sense of unease, pulling them into a world where something just feels the slightest bit off— this is absolute perfection, especially for moments where tension or a diabolical undertone needs to be established.
Green light and tinting have an undeniable psychological charge on viewers. Green is just one of those colors that can evoke a huge range of emotions. On one hand, it can symbolize life, growth, and happiness, but on the other hand, when used in a dramatic setting, like our film opening, it often implies something unnatural or threatening. Think of sickly hue casts over scenes involving sickness or decay, or that unnatural glow in a moment of distorted reality. This particular shade of light has frequently been used in genre films—especially horror and science fiction—to tell its viewers something is plain wrong.
When incorporating green lighting into a film (of any kind), consider how exactly it interacts with the space. The light can be cold, harsh, and unrelenting, washing out the set with an eerie aftertaste in your mouth. OR, in contrast, it can be much softer and delicate, casting long, sharp shadows, and just furthering that feeling of instability. This type of lighting doesn’t just illuminate—it transforms the space, turning everyday objects into things of menace. A room bathed in green light might feel claustrophobic like the walls are closing in. This can be achieved by using gels, filters, or even colored bulbs to manipulate the light’s intensity.
Example showcasing the power of green color washing
The placement of a dramatic, green light plays another vital role in terms of the emotional impact the scene holds. Even the smallest bit of green light in a scene can cast a weird, altering glow across a character's face, distorting their features, making them seem non-human, and thus, untrustworthy. The light could also come from an unknown source in the scene, implying something is hiding just beyond arm's reach. Alternatively, placing lighting at weird angles, like from below or from behind objects, can create a sense of mystery, or worse, danger.
For those all about amplifying the drama, just take into account what exactly the green light is revealing to the viewer, or, in contrast, hiding. Does the light wash out a character’s expression, hiding their true intent? Or does it showcase an object of importance, making it seem all the more menacing? The interplay of light and of shadow becomes vital, especially in moments like these. When this lighting is paired with the right set design ––I'm thinking dark, industrial spaces or rooms filled with clutter, as mentioned in my previous post— green lighting can turn the simplest environment into a space rich with tension and fear.
To finalize, Dramatic green lighting is a powerful way to enhance the mise-en-scene of a production as it completely redefines a scene’s mood. Its ability to seep out a sense of discomfort, confusion, and absolute dread makes it AMAZING for moments where suspense or a psychological imbalance is the focus.
On the development of our main character, we decided to name them Ollie(?). It's still in the works, but the name isn't significant to the opening. When focusing on Ollie's development we also had to look at the plot, considering they are the main characters and the entire plot revolves around what kind of person they are specifically.
When we first pitched this idea, we all took Ollie to be a bum who relapsed back into their drug habits because of their girlfriend breaking up with them, which sounds fine, but when we tried to develop the plot with that character, it was hard. Like. Really hard. So, instead of developing the plot, we developed the character!!! Initially when I first thought of Ollie, Jesse Pinkman from Breaking Bad came to mind.
In order to give them good development, they need another motive for relapsing, aside from their girlfriend breaking up with them. Something with a little more...substance. After a while thinking (as many do), we came up with something, and now, THE PLOT THICKENS. We decided to further develop their story by inflating their environment with more telling things about the kind of person they are. We also changed minor aspects of the plot, but the essence remains the same. It's not like we completely scrapped the idea. It's a good one.
Now, Ollie's story consists of not only their girlfriend breaking up with them but also not going to their meetings for Narcotics Anonymous, and being reprimanded by their friend to go to these meetings, until... later on, we also discover a torn-up note from his girlfriend breaking up with him because he refused to go to these NA meetings.
Now that I've summarized my project idea and overall approach to my portfolio project through my previous blogs, it's time I unveil the script my team and I wrote. This will be a short post, as I want it to be more script than blog ranting, so enjoy!
For reference, when writing the script, we took inspiration from
Hi there ^-^! Today, I want to dive into one of my absolute favorite media theories: Semiotics. Originally developed by Ferdinand de Saussure and later expanded by Roland Barthes and Jean Baudrillard, semiotics is the study of signs and symbols, and how they shape our perception of reality.
At its very core, semiotics is the idea that everything in media—images, words, colors, sounds—functions as a sign that carries meaning. These signs are broken down into two main components:
The Signifier – The physical form of the sign
The Signified – The meaning of the signifier in the mind of the viewer
For example, a red rose (a signifier) might symbolize love or romance (the signified), but depending on the cultural context, it could also represent danger or politics. That’s the power of semiotics—it’s not just about what is shown, but how it’s interpreted. It also really ties into color theory in the media and how different colors can represent different social statuses.
I'd really really love to incorporate semiotics into this portfolio project because media doesn’t just tell stories. It holds implicit ideologies within in, along with biases and power structures. Whether it’s film, marketing, or social media, semiotic analysis helps unravel deeper meanings behind seemingly neutral visuals.
If I were to incorporate semiotics, this is how I'd use it:
Deconstructing Anthropocentrism – Many mainstream narratives (that reflect the modern world) are centered upon the human experience and often marginalize or demonize non-human life. By analyzing the different "signs" used to depict animals, nature, and non-human entities, I can probably find hidden biases and offer alternatives. Personally, I could go on a rant about anthropocentrism, because it always goes deeper than these few sentences I'm giving you; I may write another blog post solely dedicated to that, though.
Unpacking Political Violence – The way violence is depicted in the media isn’t just about what is shown, but how it is shown. A protester could be labeled as a "terrorist" or "freedom fighter," depending on the semiotic choices made in language and imagery; these "semiotic choices" could also manifest themselves in the form of racial profiling, etc. Identifying these coded messages is crucial for resisting media manipulation. A recent example of these kinds of depictions that comes to my mind is the story of Luigi Mangione; it's an interesting story... read about it! (excuse the Wikipedia link, it was the most "unbiased" source I could find.)
Interrogating Oppression Across Species – Semiotics isn’t just about human culture; it extends to the way we conceptualize other species. Why are some animals seen as food while others are seen as companions? Where does the hierarchal system come from, and why are some animals treated more fairly than others? Because these categorizations are part of a social construct, these ideas can also translate into human culture through things like racism or sexism.
Ironically enough, I found this meme explaining semiotics (through Baudrillard's POV in his books)
Source: background knowledge, mostly from Jean Baudrillard's collection of books and independent research on anthropocentrism.
Hello again! Today I will be actually discussing my portfolio project, and what it's all about! Just to refresh your mind, it's a psychological drama, and it's pretty damn freaky (thank you, Joaquin). It all takes place in the protagonist's house, starting off with an establishing shot of his room, which goes on to tell that his room is a reflection of his mind.
It's extremely messy, and it looks like a rage room, honestly. There's a door banging in the background, with barking accompanying it. At this point, we see our protagonist wake up, his eyes dart open and he rushes out of bed to put on the same clothes he's worn for a week straight and deals with the situation at the door, which gets pretty messy.
Hello there! It's another week which means there's another set of blogs. Today, I'll be discussing and reflecting upon the group meetings we held in class yesterday. The basic gist of the set-up is that we get put into groups (aside from our own) and pitch our project and film opening to them, allowing for constructive criticism and general feedback along with suggestions. I was placed in a group with Nico, Fernanda, Chandni, and Justin. I've linked their blogs to their names, so feel free to also explore their blogs! They worked hard on them and seem super passionate about what they want to incorporate into their film opening.
To start off, I'm going to go on a tangent about my own experience doing the group meeting, and then I'll just go down the list of people I was with and how I perceived their pitches. I received a lot of great feedback, as well as suggestions I could make within my project in order to enhance the quality. Nico suggested a lot of spectacular ideas, particularly starting my opening with an establishing shot of the protagonist's room rather than starting with a dramatic black screen, and incorporate each sound effect one after the other instead of having them play all at once to build suspense rather than just throw it straight at the audience. On the other hand, Chandni suggested I add a green filter over my opening to further enhance the mise-en-scène by allowing a sense of dread to wash over the audience, and to also make it feel more psychologically thrilling/dramatic. I really liked that suggestion in particularly because I'm all about refining how things look and overall aesthetics, and I feel confident that I can accomplish it. Justin and Fernanda also threw a few ideas at me, notably about lighting and how I'd should position it, focusing on symbolics and shadows. They also asked me if the opening will take place at night or during the day.
Reference for the filter I had in mind – note the green tint and cool hues that make the shot more 'dramatic' in a sense – picture from Breaking Bad
Now, onto my the pitches my groupmates made; starting with Nico. Nico's film opening pitch was very detailed, and he seemed to know exactly what he wanted to do but was a little confused on exactly how to do it. His plot opened with the protagonist holding a neutral, null face in a lively and bustling restaurant/setting, completely contrasting the character's facial expression, only for all of the people and noise surrounding him to disappear into thin air. I was then told that that was a flashback, as now at this point in time, the same character is telling this story to his therapist, trying to look for a solution. That makes up most of the pitch Nico made. Suggestions I made for him to enhance the sensory aspect of it is to increase the level of the background chatter in the restaurant just before everyone disappears in order to make the silence of the scene deafening.
When Fernanda pitched her film opening to me, I was a little confused at the plot. She's got great ideas, but she needs to work a little bit on how her major plot points happening and why exactly they're significant, because if not, then the audience will have no clue what's going on, and we're not making an entire film so the question of "what's happening and why" ought to be answered within the film opening itself, or at least work toward that direction. Her pitch was about a girl practicing for a dance competition in her room in front of her mirror, when suddenly, the window breaks, and it's a mystery. A lot of questions were left unanswered when I first heard this pitch, and when I interviewed her about these questions, I was left with a confusing impression. She's got all the right things down, but can't find the words to express those ideas. But, overall I liked what I heard. I would've liked to hear more, though.
Then came Chandni. She was stumped on what to do originally. She's working with a partner, and they have completely different ideas on what they want to do for their film openings. I'm saying POLARopposites. Supposedly, they had agreed to do a rom-com about a girl dreaming about her crush, only to be woken up to her sad reality, and eventually bumping into him somewhere along the way (???). I don't see the 'rom' or the 'com' in this, personally, and Chandni's tone when talking about it seemed to think the same way! I voiced my concerns about this and she initially had told me that her and her partner would do this because it's "easier" (more like her partner said that) and then after doing my own little investigations and cross-examinations, she told me about what she initially wanted to do, which sounded a lot cooler. She went on a tangent that she sounded a lot more enthusiastic about: a psychological thriller! Just like me. Her psychological thriller consisted of something to do with a shed, secret admirer, and something trippy. My memory isn't amazing but I definitely remember looking forward to it. I hope she updates me on it.
Finally, Justin. Justin's idea for his film opening was pretty straightforward, and one of the scenes takes inspiration from Scream, specifically the scene where Ghostface calls his victims before killing them. The scene starts off with the protagonist and his girlfriend leaving a movie theater late at night, only for the protagonist to get a caller from an unknown number. Eventually, the killer kills him when he least expects it, and it's revealed that the killer and the protagonist's girlfriend were in on it, however, what confused me is here is the girlfriend's motive. Why would she want to kill her (probably) long-term boyfriend? What's the deeper meaning of the plot? There are so many questions but so few answers. I wish I could've questioned Justin more about his film opening and the plot's implications now that I'm rationalizing it.
An example of what I mean when I say the killer
in Scream calls his victims before killing them
Overall, I liked this set of group meetings, and look forward to the rest of them. Although this is only the first set of these kinds of meetings, I wish I was matched with a group who also had a substantial amount of plot to their openings, because in essence, a lot of the feedback I received on my opening were things I already knew were flaws, and I wish there was a little bit more of leveling when it comes to the amount of information group members have –– I think the feedback would've been a lot better if there was more matchmaking to the groups ––matchmaking in terms of putting people of similar experience/levels together and so forth––. This was great and helped me learn things I didn't know before. I enjoyed the alternate perspectives I met.
Since I'm on a bit of a time crunch, I will get straight to the point: I'm going to be analyzing three credit sequences today, but, because of the lack of time, they will be the credit sequences of the movies I analyzed for my previous Film Openings blog.
The opening credit sequence of Breaking Bad is an absolute masterpiece in minimalism. The title emerges in an intimidating, even foreboding green color, foreshadowing the meth-cooking that takes place – this being vital to the story. By highlighting the elements of the period table, 'Br' and 'Ba' (bromine and barium) from the periodic table, the sequence immediately gives a big red signal telling the viewer they're watching a show based on chemistry. The rusty and dusty background hints at decay, mirroring Walter White's downward spiral.
After that, American Psycho opens its credits with a devious scene that plays on the already preconceived notions the audience holds going into the theater. Visuals of blood appear multiple times throughout the frequent close-up shots, but, it turns out to actually be some fancy gourmet sauce splattered on a plate in a way that nobody can ever understand. This scene establishes the basis for American Psycho's narrative which is filled to the brim with hidden darkness and superficiality. In keeping with Patrick Bateman's fixation on appearances, the crisp, clean fonts utilized for the credits convey a high-end aesthetic. His attention to detail and the film's underlying tension are further reflected in the deliberate camera movements and tasteful soundtrack.
Last, Parasite. Parasite goes for a pretty subtle and undercover approach to its opening credits. The title fades in slowly, immersing the audience into the narrative world, but also reflects the Kim family's gradual infiltration into the Park household––as well as their descent into madness––. The soft yet strong design mixed in with the quiet yet formidable atmosphere set the tone for the unfolding social commentary.
As I dive deep into the depths of the different dunes of the internet, I come across film analyses of various films, which is what inspired me to do a form of my own analyses for my blog; specifically analyzing film openings of different media texts. While I'm at it, why not analyze openings of the genre I'm working with for this year's portfolio project? That's exactly what I'll be doing.
First and foremost: Breaking Bad. We are immediately thrown straight into a cyclone of chaos within the Breaking Bad pilot. A dramatic wide shot of the New Mexico desert opens the scene, showcasing an RV tumbling across the barren and quite desolate landscape, leaving behind a trail of dust. The emptiness of the desert and the sole focus on this mysterious RV represent the isolation and lawlessness of the desert. It is a land without law, without borders, and without reason. Walter White's journey will become representative of these reasons.
The frantic and generally chaotic energy inside the RV is captured by handheld camera work: Jesse, an additional protagonist, is shown laying unconscious on the floor of the RV among a messy layout of lethal chemicals and equipment, while Walter, looking absolutely disgusting (soo out of character) and vulnerable in his boxers (yes, it's sort of crazy...), is seen rocking a gas mask. The shakiness of the clip underlines Walter's urgency and the unforeseen nature of the situation that we, the audience, remain unaware of, and it overall reflects his own feelings, notably his internal conflict that gets revealed as the story progresses.
The mise-en-scène further enriches this narrative. The desert represents a moral wasteland, reflecting Walter's impending ethical decline. The RV serves as a liminal space, a mobile meth lab that symbolizes his double life. Walter's state of undress exposes his vulnerability, while the gas mask signifies his initial reluctance to fully embrace his new identity. The gun he wields foreshadows the violence he will eventually adopt.
In terms of editing, rapid cuts between the exterior desert chase and the chaotic interior of the RV create a sense of urgency and disorientation. This frenetic pacing is momentarily halted when Walter records a video confession, with the editing slowing to linger on his face, allowing viewers to absorb his fear and resolve. This deliberate shift in pacing underscores the gravity of his transformation.
Now, onto American Psycho (2000). This film particularly intrigues me, and although I had already done research on it in my previous blog post, I'm gonna do it again! From different perspectives, this time. Obviously. American Psycho opens with a sequence that masterfully juxtaposes appearance and reality. The film begins with extreme close-ups of a red liquid dripping onto a pristine white surface, evoking the imagery of blood. However, as the camera pulls back, it reveals that the liquid is a gourmet sauce being artfully plated. This subversion sets the tone for a narrative steeped in deception and superficiality.
The plating shown at the beginning of the film sequence is captured through slow and suspenseful tracking shots, ideally mirroring main character Patrick Bateman's obsessive-compulsive attention to detail and his absolute obsession with appearances and name brands. Mid-shots of a rather high-end restaurant show customers concentrated on trivial conversations, only further highlighting and critiquing the meaninglessness behind the materialism of the narrative world.
The mise-en-scène is rich with symbolistic shots and presentations within scenes:
Red Sauce: Initially seen by the audience as blood, it underscores the deep-hidden violence beneath Patrick Bateman's extravagant and shiny image.
Pristine White Plates: Symbolize sterility, control, and order, all reflecting Patrick Bateman's façade of a personality, or, rather, persona.
High-end Restaurant Setting: This setting embodies American Psycho: the excess and the emptiness of wealth, critiquing a society obsessed with statuses and socially constructed hierarchies.
The editing repeatedly reiterates the symbolism behind these themes through deliberate pacing and misdirection to the audience. The initial close-ups create suspense, leading to a reveal that frazzles expectations, much like Patrick Bateman. The particular nature of the cuts mirror his calculated nature, while occasional jump cuts in dialogue scenes reflect his detachment and the fragmented reality he inhabits.
Finally, but just as importantly, here is Parasite (2019). The low-angle shot of a semi-basement window at the beginning of the film Parasite places the viewer right into the cramped and extremely crowded environment of the Kim family. The family's extremely small and disorganized living area is seen as the camera gradually tilts lower, providing a visual representation of their financial situation.
A lot of things in this opening, most notably the window, convey plenty of narratives. The audience is given a limited and tight glimpse of the outside world through the window, ––serving as a message that this is what the family sees on a daily basis–– which acts as a symbol and constant reminder of the family's obstacles standing in their way toward achieving a better life. The exclusion and the brutal characteristics of the area around them have been emphasized by the dim lighting and overall tight framing.
The editing in this sequence is hastily trying to show the audience all of the deep and personal angles of the family's life, symbolizing how truly vulnerable the family is. The long takes allow the viewer to absorb these details. Deliberate pacing fosters a sense of realism and immersion; this differs immensely with the more dynamic editing that displays the lives of the affluent and luxurious Park family later in the film.
By making these parallels, the film juxtaposes the Kims' subservient existence with glimpses of the world above and the people who live there, subtly underlining the class struggles and differences that are absolutely vital to the narrative. This technique creates a binary between the two families as if there wasn't one already, setting up the rising action and climax of the story.
So as I gather my thoughts, with my portfolio schedule in hand, I keep wondering what to do... what to do. Thoughts and ideas race through my head as I rack my brain trying to fit my team and my's idea into a genre... it's difficult labeling things, especially when they're a mixture of three wildly different personalities and perspectives. After leveling myself and slowing down my thought process, I stop jumping around different ideas and processes and stick to one: research different genres. This is exactly what I'll be doing today, except I already did the research with my team and we decided to label our project as a psychological horror/thriller. So, in that case, I'll be analyzing different film openings from this genre to know what I'm really getting myself into. You know, immerse myself into the world of psychological thrillers and nerve-wracking movies. I'll only be doing three today, but more analyses will come, don't worry. When the idea of a psychological thriller came into my brain, I admit: I was a lost cause; but then I started to remember all of the different pieces of media I've ever watched, and, well, psychological thriller made up a lot of them.
So, I got thinking and decided I'll start with a bang: American Psycho (2000). American Psycho is a psychological horror that satirizes the concepts of consumer culture, toxic masculinity, and the overall emptiness that materialism mixed with narcissism carries. The film tells the story of a New York investment banker, Patrick Bateman in the 1980's, who lives a double life: one side as an investment banker, the other as a psychopathic "serial killer" for lack of a better term.
At it's very core... American Psyscho critiques the raw and soulless materialism harbored within the crevices of the postmodern setting of 1980's corporate America. When I was watching the film adaptation, (for context, I have already read the book) the director, Mary Harron, perfectly visualized Bateman and his feverish obsessions with appearances and his character embodies the very concept of superficiality–the frequent mentions and focuses on designer suits, business cards, restaurant reservations, objects, you name it, only highlight how Bateman's character only highlights how his obsession with superficial things allows him to "blend into" society, even while he commits heinous and inhumane acts, adding a tang of irony to the film, only further emphasizing the satiric nature of the film.
There is a specific scene that always comes to my mind that, in my opinion, truly embody the current state of the forever-evolving media sphere, and that is: the business card scene. This scene depicts Bateman and his work colleagues intensely comparing the different aesthetics of their business cards ––something that is straight-up trivial–– and to add the cherry on top, all the cards look nearly identical. However, this scene only serves as a microcosm for American Psycho's narrative world ––that can be applied to our world, as well–– and only unveils its true nature: superficial, emotionally null, hyper-competitive, and hyperreal, if you will.
Hi Cambridge people :) today during my AICE Media class my group and I spent the whole period planning out our schedule for the final portfolio project! It's gonna be so much fun, I finalized it today after school and it's looking great.
To summarize briefly, weeks 1-4 will be purely dedicated to planning, while weeks 5-8 will be dedicated to filming and editing, and if time allows, a few tweaks here and there to ensure a high quality final product is achieved!
After much thought these past two days about the upcoming portfolio project, I've decided to start thinking about more genres that could be storyboarded, in addition to the psychological horror idea my team and I seem to be set on. Thus, I'll talk about the two main components of the psychological horror subgenre: thriller and mystery. Although they are grouped into the same group of genres, thriller, and mystery are two very different descriptors.
On one hand, when a media text, specifically a movie or show, is labeled as a thriller, it's meant to get some kind of rise out of you; to have you at the very edge of your seat just waiting for the next thing to happen. You get a sense of anticipation, uneasiness, and a desire to know more. Thrillers usually tend to use more cliffhangers than other genres, to keep that high of desire going. Many films by Alfred Hitchcock paved the way for many of today's thriller movies, being credited as the "beginning of the thriller genre."
On the other hand, although being very similar to thriller, the mystery genre still has many things that set it apart. Many films that have to do with figuring something out, like murder mysteries, are labeled as mysteries (of course). Mystery goes way back to the nineteenth century, being an outcome of the English Renaissance, where dozens of literary works came one right after the other. One of the most memorable mysteries from this time is Sherlock Holmes, a series of stories about a detective investigating crime through law and order.
Overall, thriller and mystery pair together exceptionally well, creating the perfect mix called the subgenre of psychological horror! All the feelings these two specific genres make an audience feel really mess with your perception, giving them the reputation they have.
