When I was a youngster, there weren’t many things more enjoyable than Friday night movies. Growing up in a concrete jungle had its perks. Since we lived on a big housing estate where all the amenities were close by, we used to get Chinese takeout and then walk the short distance to the local video store to rent movies. 

My interests differed from the family, who were always drawn to the latest Tom Hanks blockbuster. I grew up during the golden age of horror. Creative directors along with innovative makeup and special effects transformed the genre in the 1980s. I was allowed to choose anything in the store. My dreams were haunted by Wes Craven’s A Nightmare on Elm Street and Friday the 13th put me off camping for life. 

Everyone knew everyone back then, and life was much more communitarian. I came from a high-trust society—possibly the last one—as a Gen Xer. I still recall my mother sending me to the newsagents to pick up forty Rothmans along with a signed letter and £10 note. The owner knew my mum and would call her to confirm. 

Not everyone was liberal, though. After a while, I noticed there were fewer and fewer scary movies available to satisfy my insatiable appetite. I grew up in the era of the video nasty—a term associated with Mary Whitehouse to describe the moral panic that she unleashed upon the video rental market—specifically the world of horror.

Whitehouse, a Christian conservative, chaired the National Viewers’ and Listeners’ Association, an organisation concerned about the moral degradation of society, which she believed was caused by violent and sexual content in the media. Her increasing sway over Thatcher government lawmakers resulted in the 1984 Video Recordings Act (VRA). The Act made it unlawful to distribute or sell any video that had not been rated and classified by the British Board of Film Classification (BBFC) and granted the board statutory authority. The horror market was rocked by it. 

A lot of great horror films were abruptly removed from circulation. One such movie was Sam Raimi’s hilarious horror film, The Evil Dead, which was banned from all video rental stores in the country. Wes Craven’s The Last House On The Left was among the worst to endure a prolonged humiliation, as it was denied a cinema certificate in 1974. It wasn’t released uncut until 2008–34 years later.

Ruggerio Deodato’s controversial horror film Cannibal Holocaust was released in 1982. In an attempt to generate publicity, the film’s distributor, Go Video, wrote to Mary Whitehouse about the film. It produced the desired result. The Sunday Times published an article titled “How High Street Horror is Invading the Home.”

The VRA affected more than just the video rental market. It targeted individuals. Between 1995 and 2007, 1,659 people were prosecuted under the Act. These are the only official figures, but a similar number of prosecutions have been estimated between 1984-1995.

In order to help video store owners navigate the new legislation, the Director of Public Prosecutions created a list of 72 films they ‘believed’ (read: never bothered to watch) were too obscene to watch. An additional 82 titles were added to the list for a less serious ‘Section 3’ charge. This is the infamous ‘video nasties’ list. Many of horror’s greatest movies ended up on the naughty list.

Following a public consultation, the BBFC started to soften its approach to censorship in 2000. Several previously banned movies were granted an 18 certificate. In 1999, twenty-five years after it made its theatrical debut, The Exorcist was finally released uncut. 

In a world engulfed in progressive identity politics, movie studios today scramble to back the latest right-on cause. Politically correct corporations have compromised the views of the silent majority in order to appease a vocal minority. A few years back, the BBFC gave the harmless family-friendly adventure Flash Gordon a 12A rating after just 27 complaints. Editing, reclassifying, or censoring classic films not only violates the free speech rights of the filmmakers, but it also robs fans of the enjoyment that these artistic creations offer. 

But that’s not the end of the story. There was a surprising and somewhat liberating side effect to the VRA. Horror fans rejoiced when the video nasties list was released. It was a treasure mine of undiscovered gore. Horror fans are nerds, just like members of any subculture; they trade tapes and publish fanzines. A quarter of British homes had a VCR by the time the VRA received royal assent. Including our own, too. Secret meetings and plastic bags slid under high school desks led me to an amazing blood-soaked world of movies such as Bad Taste, The Beyond, and The Thing—arguably the finest horror movie ever made.

Horror heads are not deranged lunatics or criminals, we just love to feel scared. So good riddance to the VRA.