protean depravity

Reflections, whether on glass, mirror, or water, have always,  from Narcissus to Poltergeist,  had confrontational, psychological, existential and inherently uncanny undertones for what they might (or might not) show us and what that might stir up inside of us. A mirror, or a reflective surface in the broader sense (a television screen, a photographic lens, a camera's eye, a celluloid film, etc.), shows the bare truth - and yet it is impossible for us to touch, smell, hear or taste that truth. We can only see it. So on the one hand it has the claim of reliability, but on the other hand it lacks depth. There is a conflict there, which, of course, provides perfect fodder for the horror imagination. It is not our world, thus it must be a different one. It is illusion through and through and yet tells us so much about ourselves and our fears; vanity, introspection, evil twins, parallel universes, the future... What's not to like in that, from a horror fan's point of...

I have absolutely no idea how something as trite as a surface with a reflective metal coat has become one of the main staples of horror fiction, but here we are to find out why. Reflections, whether on glass, mirror or water, have always had confrontational, psychological, existential and inherently uncanny undertones in what they might (or might not) show us and what that might stir up inside - from Narcissus to Poltergeist. A mirror, or a reflective surface in the broader sense (a television screen, a photographic lens, a camera's eye, a celluloid film, etc.), shows the bare truth - and yet it is impossible for us to touch, smell, hear or taste that truth. We can only see it. So on the one hand it has the claim of reliability, but lacks depth. There is a conflict there. It is not our world, thus it must be a different one. It is illusion through and through and yet tells us so much about ourselves and our fears; vanity, introspection, evil twins, parallel universes, the future....