When I think of my first encounter with horror, I don’t think of a vampire, a witch, or even a possessed girl’s head spinning round (I saw The Exorcist at the age of seven). I think of a Sun God, I think of teeth and claws slicked with blood, I think of the Black Rabbit of Death. And he wasn’t even the bad guy.
I’m not talking about some campy folk horror from the 1960s. I’m talking about the 1978 animated version of Richard Adams’ Watership Down.
I was perhaps four when I saw it. The opening sequence remains a core memory: the myth of the Prince with a Thousand Enemies, the Original Rabbit, rendered in gorgeous animation that evoked Aboriginal art via the films of New Zealand artist Len Lye. Then the great crimson wave of blood flowing across the fields. Death, cold and indiscriminate, was coming to the gentle slopes of Watership Down.
