<rss xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" version="2.0"><channel><title>Landscape - vo.rs</title><link>https://vo.rs/tags/landscape/</link><description>Latest from the Landscape desk at vo.rs.</description><generator>Hugo -- gohugo.io</generator><language>en</language><copyright>This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0 International License.</copyright><lastBuildDate>Tue, 07 Jan 2025 13:00:00 +0000</lastBuildDate><atom:link href="https://vo.rs/tags/landscape/" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><item><title>Regional Horror: The Local Legend as Engine</title><link>https://vo.rs/screen/regional-horror-the-local-legend-as-engine/</link><description>&lt;p&gt;The most durable horror films are the ones you could redraw as a map. &lt;em&gt;The Wicker Man&lt;/em&gt; is a Scottish island. &lt;em&gt;The Texas Chain Saw Massacre&lt;/em&gt; is a stretch of scorched Texas back-road. &lt;em&gt;The Blair Witch Project&lt;/em&gt; is a specific patch of Maryland woodland named after a specific town. These films are frightening in a way the interchangeable haunted-suburb picture never manages, and the reason is not budget or talent alone. It is that they are powered by &lt;em&gt;place&lt;/em&gt; — a real landscape carrying a local legend — and place is the single most underrated engine in the horror machine. Generic fear evaporates. Fear with a postcode stays with you.&lt;/p&gt;</description><pubDate>Tue, 07 Jan 2025 13:00:00 +0000</pubDate></item></channel></rss>