In my previous post yesterday, I talked about the first season of American Horror Story and its reliance on two female archetypes – the femme fatale and the overbearing mother – in its construction of the monstrous.
The spoiler warning, again, goes here!
Today, I’m going to talk about reproduction, so if you want to sing that song from Grease 2, you better get it out of your system now. Ready?
Mothers are, in the world of AHS, a danger not only to their children, but also to the others that touch their lives. Pregnancy, with its easy symbolism and suitably melodramatic and gory end bit, lends itself to Horror. But it is not just the obvious that is made an object of fear.
As I said in part one, Vivien and Ben are a married couple facing difficulties. She’s had a miscarriage, he’s had an affair, and their relationship is in tatters. I think, I think, that we’re meant to be engaged with this crumbling marriage.
But while Ben is a rounded character – full of hope and regret, sweetness and cruelty, passion and inertia – his wife is driven only by her desire to save her marriage, which in turn is driven by her maternal desire.
Like Nora, the basement abortionist’s wife, Hayden (Ben’s deeply sexual and manipulative mistress), and Constance, the terminally abusive and neglectful mother next door, Vivien simply has uterus, will procreate.1
Vivien is little more than a vessel, a womb with bouncy hair. She is Shroedinger’s Uterus, forever pregnant or not pregnant, host to a foetus that is alive or not alive, evil or not evil depending on the requirements of the plot in any given episode. Viven’s role as incubator is underlined when she dies in childbirth – her role is complete, so we need nothing more from her.
Vivien’s pregnancy is unusual. Hers is a product of heteropaternal superfecundation – she’s carrying twins with different fathers. One is her husband’s, the other is the result of her rape by a psychopathic ghost.2 Let’s not even go into the fact that her husband doesn’t believe she’s been raped – there’s something much worse than that on the horizon.The show’s mythology tells us that a child born of a ghost and a human will be the antichrist, and we all know what that means: apocalypse.
Just in case the implication of that isn’t clear, let me put it in slightly different terms: Vivien’s vagina is the muggletuppin’ Hellmouth.
Much of what I’ve said so far owes a debt to Barbara Creed’s theory of the monstrous-feminine, and in particular the abject body; the demonisation, defilement and objectification of the female body in Horror.
Vivien’s labour and delivery is presented as particularly sanguinary; a festival of blood and sweat. It’s a burlesque of the natural; a grotesque, pantomimic affair attended entirely by a gorily deceased medical staff provided by the house.
With neither the clinical intervention of the modern birthing experience nor the cleanliness of the body innocent, the birth plays on both classically Freudian and modern germophobic fears. It is, from both perspectives, unclean.
The point of Horror, if there must be one, is to walk the line between desirable and undesirable; to cross or threaten the boundaries that separate stability and chaos. Childbirth, as a triumph of the primal over the civilised and the inner over the outer, is a natural exemplar of this. It’s naturally yukky and generally unstoppable, and that makes it pretty frightening. Here we’re treated to close ups of Vivien’s sweat covered forehead, wide overhead shots that emphasise the claustrophobic urgency of the scene, and heavy blood-loss.
Horror films that depict monstrous births play on the inside/outside distinction in order to point to the inherently monstrous nature of the womb as well as the impossibility of ever completely banishing the abject from the human domain. […] The womb represents the utmost in abjection for it contains a new life form which will pass from inside to outside bringing with it traces of contamination – blood, afterbirth, faeces.
– Barbara Creed, The Monstrous Feminine: Film, Feminism, Psychoanalysis (1993)
Childbirth places us on the side of nature, outside of patriarchal order. Flesh is torn, blood is spilled, the sexual organs begin to resemble a wound. The imagery is graphic, base: abject. Vivien’s affinity with uncivilised, feral nature invoked, her threat to patriarchal law is cemented. The birth of Vivien’s twins is a threat fulfilled, a boundary crossed. From the abject comes the ruin of the world.
Vivien is threatened not just by the hell-spawn she’s carrying, but also by three of the ghosts that share her home. Nora and Hayden, who have lost their own children, and Chad, who has never had children, each desire ownership of Vivien’s child and conspire to steal the baby once it is born.
Baby-snatching is a common, well rooted trope in fantasy and horror, which usually points to the degeneracy of a group or being – a sign that they’re beyond redemption, truly inhuman. Infants are stolen for ingestion (as in Torchwood: Children of Earth), as revenge (like the Pied Piper of Hamlyn) or a sacrificial offering (the Buffy episode Band Candy) and occasionally, though rarely, to be raised as the kidnapper’s own. It is this which motivates the childless ghosts of AHS.
Each conspirator represents a different level of threat. Deceased interior designer Chad, constantly arguing with his (also dead) partner Patrick, is no threat at all. More concerned as he is with decorating than mending his broken relationship, he seems to think the baby will simply be handed to him. Nora, left to her own devices, is an unlikely threat – she’s narcissistic enough but ethereal and clueless.
But with Hayden, the picture is quite different. Hayden is wicked, determined and operating without fear of consequence – she’s dead, after all – and that’s precisely why she’s so dangerous.
The feminine is only established, however, if the wish for a penis is replaced by one for a baby.
– Freud, “Femininity”, New Introductory Lectures in Psycho-Analysis (1933)
The problem here is one of motivation. Now, I’m not saying there’s something wrong with wanting children. But there’s something wrong with wanting children to the exclusion of everything else. Hayden is a formidable woman brimming with agency and audacity, and, in a stunning display of the roles women play in our diverse society, she’s pregnant too.
When she dies, she’s contributing all her energy to winning Ben back, and then, bam! One blunt-force trauma later, her whole reason for being has changed. Now, I get that dying is the sort of thing that might emotionally scar a person, but COME ON. The child in her belly, previously presented only as a tool of emotional blackmail, will never appear, so she’s obsessed with replacing it.
And that’s the key to understanding both Hayden and Nora. They both want to replace children they’ve lost. It is a narcissistic craving; a desire merely to possess. The possibility of motherhood has stripped them of rationality, maybe even sanity, and turned them into objects of dread. Here motherhood truly is ‘the most powerful feminine wish’ (Freud again, in 1933), and it is dangerous.
In the eyes of AHS, women are to be feared. Female sexuality is aberrant if not abhorrent, and represented by crude Freudian symbolism (if you aren’t yet convinced, check out the suckling infant literally devouring his mother’s breast).
I’m with Simone de Beauvoir when it comes to Freud, but not so Messrs. Murphy and Falchuck; it’s like they’ve tried to dramatise Introduction to Psychoanalysis.
The second season of American Horror Story recently began its run on UK television (on FX, new episodes Tuesday evening). So far it’s really pushing the boat out to hate women in a variety of new and exciting ways under the guise of a critical look at the pathologising of sexuality and historic attitudes to poor mental health.
It’s terrible. You’re going to love it.
Have you ever looked at superheroines today and thought “Hmmm… they could be a bit more comfy.” All that spandex and those costumes with holes cut out, don’t they ever get cold? Don’t they ever just want to put their slippers on and relax?
Well, artist Hanie Mohd must have thought the same thing, because she’s got a whole series of prints on Etsy featuring super girls in sweaters, and they’re super cute, too! She’s got Power Girl, Catwoman, Oracle, Harley Quinn, Poison Ivy, Rogue from the X-Men and Stephanie Brown’s Batgirl. I wonder who she’ll draw next?
I’ve bought the Catwoman print, and after all the hullabaloo about how much Catwoman was or wasn’t wearing in the DC52, there’s something that’s quite comforting about seeing Selina in a kitty sweater. Doesn’t she just look so happy to be wearing it?
The SFX Weekender is an annual sci-fi convention run by SFX Magazine; it took place in Rye in the south of England in 2010 and 2011, and this year it’s based in Wales at Prestatyn Sands, from the 2nd to the 5th of February. There are events for those who love comics, gaming, SF movies and books, and unlike what might be thought of as a ‘typical’ sci-fi convention there are always loads of women there enjoying the show.
I’ve been before, and I’m going again, this year they’ve got stellar guests such as Alex Kingston, who plays River Song in Doctor Who, and Eve Myles who plays Gwen in Torchwood. There’s also Hattie Hayridge, the standup comedienne who plays Holly in Red Dwarf and Sophie Aldred, who used to play the Doctor’s companion, Ace, in Doctor Who in the 1980s. There’ll be some great scifi and fantasy authors there too, from fantasy authors Juliet McKenna (who wrote this great post for us on the representation of women in fantasy last year) and Mark Charan Newton, comics authors such as Paul Cornell and Dan Abnett, to sci-fi authors Jaine Fenn, Michael Cobley and China Miéville.
There are always great booths and an equally great programme of panel discussions, writing workshops, quizzes, and cosplay competitions, awards ceremonies such as the SFX Awards and the Kitschies, and a ‘Maskerade’ party on the final night (DJed by Red Dwarf‘s Craig Charles). All best enjoyed with some cold beer and some good geeky friends, of course.
Did you know The Ballad of Halo Jones had been adapted into a play? No, neither did I, but the Alan Moore story that’s been named as one of feminist website The F Word’s recommended comics and graphic novels was perfomed by Manchester-based production company Scytheplays in early January.
We heard about this production via this glowing review from Ed Fortune.
Halo and her friends live on the Hoop – a repository for the unemployed in the 50th century, but she won’t be beaten. She dreams of getting out and becomes a legend in the process.
The current run is over now, but maybe they can be persuaded to go on tour? Comics writer Maura McHugh mentions her love of Halo Jones in an interview with BadRep here.
We also found out recently that Cory Doctorow’s revolutionary YA novel Little Brother has been adapted for the stage by The Custom Made Theatre Co., though sadly this theatre happens to be in San Francisco, America, so I don’t think we’ve much chance of seeing that one…
Do you know of any other SF stage adaptations going on at the moment? Share them in the comments or send them to the usual BadRep editors address!
This story on Tumblr, about a little boy who wanted to buy a purple controller and a ‘game for girls’. Dear Customer who stuck up for his little brother…
Awesomewatch: Have YOU seen an awesome thing? Tell our Jenni all about it.
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