{"id":14170,"date":"2013-12-02T08:30:11","date_gmt":"2013-12-02T08:30:11","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/badreputation.org.uk\/?p=14170"},"modified":"2013-12-01T20:55:28","modified_gmt":"2013-12-01T20:55:28","slug":"guest-post-our-sinister-sisters-the-girl-monster-on-screen","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/badreputation.org.uk\/2013\/12\/02\/guest-post-our-sinister-sisters-the-girl-monster-on-screen\/","title":{"rendered":"[Guest Post] Our Sinister Sisters: the Girl Monster on Screen"},"content":{"rendered":"
The nights have drawn in, there\u2019s a chill in the air and it\u2019s that time of year where I like to do what I, admittedly, like to do pretty much the rest of the year: gather the family around a nice cosy horror film and scare the bejeezus out of ourselves.<\/p>\n
<\/a>I\u2019m especially fortunate, living
in Brighton, that there\u2019s a thriving scene of horror fanatics,
including the founders of the Classic Horror Campaign<\/strong><\/a>, whose raison d’etre
is to bring back British horror to our TV screens and who run a
brilliant occasional horror film festival called Frighten
Brighton.<\/p>\n
Last year they ran a day of screenings that traversed the decades
from the Thirties to the Seventies. It was fascinating to watch an
intricate snapshot of women in horror unfolding before me,
reflective of Hollywood’s complex relationship with
sexuality, equality, objectification and empowerment.<\/p>\n
In just the five films screened –
Mad Love<\/strong>,
The Cat People<\/strong>,
Them<\/strong>,
Plague of the Zombies<\/strong> and
Phantasm<\/strong> – a gamut of femininity was
presented, from virginal innocent to sexual seductress,
strident powerful woman to flailing damsel in distress,
repressed lesbian to swooning romantic.<\/p>\n
In almost all these films there is a notable slide
towards objectification; the woman\u2019s body as a
object of desire for the monster or mad scientist, the
virginal sacrificial lamb, or the slutty cannon fodder
helpless to avert her fate. This is reflective of the
wider problems within a genre that still churns out
women’s bodies to be fondled, fucked, kidnapped
and sliced up.<\/p>\n
The brilliant, feminist-principled Women in Horror Recognition Month<\/strong><\/a>
campaign1<\/a><\/sup> recognises this
difficult relationship with horror. Their campaign
illustrates that it can be one of the most
objectifying genres, but is also an important
genre for exploring a vast array of issues –
power, psyche, politics, social constructs, war,
violence, gender – and therefore that
it\u2019s important that women\u2019s roles are
recognised and supported.<\/p>\n
They provide a platform for women directors,
writers, actors and aficionados to get their
work seen and to address issues within the
industry, as well as misogyny in the genre.
They’ve also used social media, blogging
and film festivals to explore what horror has to
contribute to the female narrative.<\/p>\n
It\u2019s a rich seam to explore, and
there\u2019s a whole other vein to mine
exploring the ones who live and the ones who die
in horror movies, and what this represents
metaphorically, culturally and politically.
Equally, there\u2019s a huge area to address
when it comes to representations of race in
horror – for example, why the last one to
live is often a white woman (think
Night of the Living Dead<\/strong>). But what
about when women themselves are the stuff of
nightmares?<\/p>\n
Women aren’t always the victims in
horror, and whilst there have been
significant problems in the history of the
genre, it has also been willing to explore
areas of female experience that other genres
just weren’t ready for, often at times
when it would have been deeply contentious
to make a film that discussed, say,
sexuality or sexual violence, let alone the
fact that you\u2019d still be hard pushed to
find a film about what a nightmare getting
your period can be! There are numerous
examples of fantastic writing and
performances in horror that explore the
feminine diabolique whilst also touching on
real world issues underneath.<\/p>\n
1936\u2019s
Dracula\u2019s Daughter<\/strong> is a
fine example of how horror can reflect
both the cultural perception of women and
the abiding social currents, as well as
exploring key issues for women through the
figure of a female monster. It was
produced as part of the Universal stable
of horror films, following directly on the
heels of Tod Browning\u2019s
Dracula<\/strong>.<\/p>\n
Gloria Holden plays the troubled and
lonely Countess Zaleska, desperate to
cure herself of vampirism. She tries
both the occult and psychiatry before
giving in to her bloodlust. The film
is a Gothic delight, and Holden is
dark and intense, quietly terrifying
and tragic at the same time.<\/p>\n
The film barely contains its sapphic
undertones. Zaleska lingers over her
female victims, covets their bodies
and beauty, and prowls the streets at
night in search of blood. The countess
is very much a creature of her time in
cinematic history, reflecting both the
notion that homosexuality was
considered a psychiatric malaise, and
the censorship movements of the 1930s,
with the Hays Code<\/a> being
introduced just a few years before.
This was the first regulation code for
cinema, reflecting religious and
conservative views that any deviant
behaviour had to be hidden, including
sexual acts, prostitution, white
slavery and homosexuality. The film is
also a shining example of the
demonisation of homosexuality, the
portrayal of lesbians as predatory and
dangerous and this is reflected in the
scene where Zaleska attacks a young
model, Lili.<\/p>\n
1942\u2019s
Cat People<\/strong> likewise has a
female monster at its heart. Irena
moves to New York from Serbia,
falling in love with the charming
Oliver and marrying him. Underneath
the surface, however, is the secret
that she is descended from a wild
people who can turn themselves into
cats. Irena seems convinced that if
she gives in to her passions she
will lose control and turn into a
cat herself – and her marriage
becomes strained by a lack of
intimacy.<\/p>\n
Again, there is subtext around
psychology, sexual repression and
the power in a woman unleashing
her sexuality. There is also a
queer subtext as Irena stalks her
husband’s mistress, Alice,
and her inner cat is unleashed,
suggesting that the repression she
felt was her sexuality rather than
her lack of ardour for her
husband. All this is neatly tucked
away from the heavy-handed
censors, but easily
readable.<\/p>\n
Moving forward, horror has
continued to provide the perfect
medium to explore these themes.
The female monster has been a
great platform for exploring
puberty and all its commensurate
delights: it\u2019s all blood,
mayhem and rage, after all. Think
Carrie<\/strong> at the prom,
exploding with fear, confusion
and violence at her tormentors,
triggered by her menstruation.
Think Ginger in
Ginger Snaps<\/strong> (2000)
– first period, first
full moon, morphing to
discover her sense of
identity, her confidence and
her sexual liberation.<\/p>\n
Both
Carrie<\/strong> and
Ginger Snaps<\/strong>
are reflective of the
fact that we are also
still culturally trained
to view periods and
puberty with a sense of
revulsion. There are
several key moments in
Ginger
Snaps<\/strong> where
adult characters view
menstruation with
disgust, implying that
the girls should be
ashamed of even
speaking about it. Our
bodies are the centre
of the change in
puberty, and this is
interpreted into a
kind of body horror,
where the confusion,
pain, hormones of
puberty are projected
outwards.<\/p>\n
<\/a>Carrie
acquires powers to
impact on the world
around her to be
able to make herself
visible, powerful
and a force to be
reckoned with for
the first time.
Ginger starts to pay
attention to and
receive attention
from her peers
– she becomes
a sexual being as
well as a creature
of rage. Bianca
Nielson\u2019s
fascinating article
Something’s
Wrong, Like More
Than You Being
Female<\/strong><\/a>
delves even
further into
Ginger
Snaps<\/strong>\u2019
representation
of puberty and
is well worth a
read.<\/p>\n
What is great
about the film
is the way
that Brigitte
and Ginger
deconstruct
their
experiences
together,
sharing their
views of their
society, their
bodies, and of
their
relationships.
It’s
notable how
isolated
Brigitte
becomes when
she can no
longer share
Ginger\u2019s
experiences.
Although these
conversations
revolve around
the
fantastical,
trying to deal
with
Ginger\u2019s
\u2018wolfing
out\u2019,
they\u2019re
also painfully
familiar.<\/p>\n
The female
monster also
allows us
opportunity to
address
expectations
of the female
body. Hammer
has a lot to
answer for
when it comes
to heaving
bosoms and
frail victims
in flimsy
nighties, but
in
Countess
Dracula<\/strong>
(1971) it
also
addressed
ageing. In
particular,
it addressed
the fear of
no longer
meeting the
expectation
that women
should be
beautiful,
and the
anxiety that
to age means
to no longer
be
desirable.<\/p>\n
<\/a>The
countess,
fearing
the loss
of her
young
lovers,
takes to
bathing in
the blood
of virgins
to retain
her youth.
Played by
horror
queen
Ingrid
Pitt, she
was also
rooted in
the real
life
Elizabeth
Bathory<\/strong>,
who was
imprisoned
for
murdering
over 80
women
and
allegedly
bathing
in their
blood.
Countess
Dracula<\/strong>
is a
silly,
campy
horror
film,
but it
also
manages
to
contain
moments
of
poignancy,
especially
as the
countess
is
forced
to
face
her
fate
–
old,
hated
and
done
for.
It\u2019s
not a
cheery
message,
but
it’s
a fair
reflection
of the
cultural
obsession
with
youth
and
beauty.<\/p>\n
The
girl
monster
also
allows
us
to
explore
the
idea
that
what\u2019s
outside
doesn’t
necessarily
reflect
what\u2019s
inside
–
ideas
around
appearances
that
fall
outside
the
norms
of
society,
the
idea
that
\u2018the
other\u2019
isn’t
necessarily
horrific,
and
the
idea
that
monsters,
conversely,
can
come
in
appealing
packages.
This
is
especially
powerful
when
it
challenges
perceived
notions
of
womanhood
and
beauty.<\/p>\n
<\/a>In
Return
of
the
Living
Dead
3<\/strong>,
reluctant
zombie
Julie
bodily
punishes
herself
because
she\u2019s
no
longer
wholesome
and
good.
She
uses
pain
and
piercing
to
control
herself
and
to
make
her
outside
appearance
reflect
the
badness
she
feels
within,
self-harming,
cutting,
modifying
and
piercing
until
she
loses
control.
Again,
on
the
surface
it\u2019s
a
silly
film,
but
it\u2019s
a
powerful
scene
when
we
begin
to
unpick
the
body
as
an
object
of
aberration
for
young
women.
When
Julie
modifies
herself
she
appears
dangerous
and
sinister,
but
ultimately
she\u2019s
still
Julie
underneath
–
she\u2019s
still
a
young
woman
mortified
by
herself.<\/p>\n
This
issue
is
also
brilliantly
addressed
in
last
year’s
breakthrough
horror
American
Mary<\/strong>.
Filmed
by
twins
Jen
and
Sylvia
Soska,
and
from
their
point
of
view
explicitly
feminist,
it
deals
with
the
world
of
extreme
body
modification
–
carried
out
by
trainee
doctor
Mary.<\/p>\n
The
modified
women
are
deeply
challenging
representations
of
femininity
and
beauty.
Their
appearances
are
shocking
and
extreme,
although
underneath,
they
are
caring
and
gentle
despite
seeming
monstrous.
This
is
exemplified
by
the
character
Ruby
Realdoll,
who
desires
to
become
sexless
and
doll-like.
Her
body
has
been
cut
and
sliced
to
become
featureless
–
monstrous
to
the
accepted
notion
of
beauty,
but
beautiful
to
her
and
vital
to
her
self
acceptance.
The
modification
has
dire
consequences
and
accurately
reflects
how
society
rejects
the
other,
often
violently.<\/p>\n
Importantly,
though,
Mary
is
also
not
a
particularly
nice
person.
She
looks
stunning,
but
she
is
not
what
we
expect.
She
is
sharp
edged,
cold,
and
self-absorbed;
neither
a
fluffy
air-headed
beauty
nor
a
bookish
high
achiever.
Horror
allows
us
to
subvert
some
accepted
tropes
and
often
spits
cultural
expectations
and
stereotypes
back
in
our
faces.
The
fact
that
American
Mary<\/strong>
has
generated
so
much
discussion
about
what
is
and
isn\u2019t
feminist
cinema
is
fantastic.<\/p>\n
Mainstream
cinema
is
still
deeply
prescriptive
about
how
women
can
act,
talk
and
be
–
the
girl
monster
refuses
to
be
chained
by
these
prescriptions.
Horror
is
a
brilliant,
bloody
palate
for
our
real
issues,
and
as
a
result
it’s
provided
a
forum
for
us
to
to
talk
about
being
a
woman
in
a
way
that
other
genres
could
only
dream
of.<\/p>\n
Of
course
we
should
enjoy
the
thrill
of
being
scared.
Of
course
we
should
immerse
ourselves
in
the
delight
of
a
silly
campy
horror
or
a
terrifying
splatterfest
–
and
no,
I’m
not
suggesting
that
every
horror
fest
should
be
an
exercise
in
cinematic
analytical
criticism.
But
I
love
our
sinister
sisters.
They’ve
been
reclaiming
the
night
for
decades.<\/p>\n
\n