Why Horror Movie Trailers Are Better at Selling Products Than Most Ads
Every October, like clockwork, I fall into a rabbit hole of horror trailers. Not the films necessarily—just the trailers. There’s something absurdly tight about how they distil fear, suspense, and curiosity into 120 seconds. And oddly enough, marketers in just about every other industry could learn a thing or two from these fear merchants.
Let’s start with structure. Horror trailers build tension with an exacting rhythm. It’s practically math. There’s the slow build, a micro-release, then a misdirect, and finally the payoff scream or twist. Emotional pacing like this gets in your bones. Yet in most brand campaigns, we get beige storytelling that tries to be everything, all at once, leaving no emotion to latch onto. Horror doesn’t do that. It gives you one thing—pure adrenaline—and it manipulates the hell out of it.
Then there’s the economy of storytelling. A horror trailer knows it doesn’t have time to explain the monster, or why that cursed dishwasher is vomiting blood. It shows. It hints. It lets the audience fill in the blanks. In marketing land, we’re still obsessed with bullet points and explanatory copy. But ambiguity sells. It respects the audience’s intelligence. It invites participation.
The best part, though? Horror trailers know exactly who they’re for. They’re not trying to appeal to everyone. If the screen goes black and a child’s whisper recites a nursery rhyme off-key, you either click away or lean in. That kind of polarisation is valuable. In a world of campaigns built not to offend the median viewer, horror reminds us that clarity of voice—even a terrifying one—is a form of power.
Let’s start with structure. Horror trailers build tension with an exacting rhythm. It’s practically math. There’s the slow build, a micro-release, then a misdirect, and finally the payoff scream or twist. Emotional pacing like this gets in your bones. Yet in most brand campaigns, we get beige storytelling that tries to be everything, all at once, leaving no emotion to latch onto. Horror doesn’t do that. It gives you one thing—pure adrenaline—and it manipulates the hell out of it.
Then there’s the economy of storytelling. A horror trailer knows it doesn’t have time to explain the monster, or why that cursed dishwasher is vomiting blood. It shows. It hints. It lets the audience fill in the blanks. In marketing land, we’re still obsessed with bullet points and explanatory copy. But ambiguity sells. It respects the audience’s intelligence. It invites participation.
The best part, though? Horror trailers know exactly who they’re for. They’re not trying to appeal to everyone. If the screen goes black and a child’s whisper recites a nursery rhyme off-key, you either click away or lean in. That kind of polarisation is valuable. In a world of campaigns built not to offend the median viewer, horror reminds us that clarity of voice—even a terrifying one—is a form of power.