Margaret Evans – Bitch Flicks

‘Ouija: Origin of Evil’: Grief, Motherhood, and Spirit Possession

‘Ouija: Origin of Evil’ may be a prequel, but it is first and foremost a tragic character piece. One in which a previously strong family dynamic is torn apart when malicious forces use Alice’s grief to manipulate her.

This guest post written by Margaret Evans appears as part of our theme week on Women in Horror.

A common question that is asked of horror movies is why? Why don’t any of the leads think to go to the police? Why do they not stop messing around with dark forces before it is too late? Not only does Ouija: Origin of Evil have an answer to such questions, it answers them in a way that serves to make its cast more sympathetic.

Directed and co-written by Mike Flanagan, Ouija: Origin of Evil — the prequel to the 2014 film Ouija — stars Elizabeth Reaser as Alice Zander, a fake psychic who enlists her daughters in order to convince people that she can communicate with the dead. Since the death of Alice’s husband, this has become how she earns money. The film opens with Alice performing a séance with her daughters and a client. They are able to pull off the illusion, but Alice declines the customer’s money because she wants to save him from a possibly fraudulent business venture. Alice justifies lying to clients as she believes that she’s providing a service that meets their emotional needs. But her refusal here conveys that there are limits she won’t cross when it comes to dealing with her customers.

This scene serves three important functions. It establishes why the Zander family would choose to experiment with a Ouija board. Alice turns away her customer’s money, proving that she is invested in her job for more than monetary gain. Finally, it reinforces how easy it is for someone to believe that a medium can allow them to contact a deceased loved one, as many people yearn to reconnect with those they have lost.

By this point, the audience is familiar with the aspects of Alice’s character that will inform her actions for the rest of the film. She still mourns the loss of her husband. She honestly believes that her job helps people; she says as much while talking with Father Hogan (Henry Thomas), a priest at her daughters’ school. Alice is passionate about what she does and sees in herself as akin to a therapist. Because Alice is a widow, she’s in a similar position to the people who seek her help. This makes it easier for her to view her actions as helping others grieve, and not the actions of an emotional predator. She feels what they feel. Alice longs for the closure that she believes she gives others through her work.

When her younger daughter, Doris (Lulu Wilson) displays the ability to use a Ouija board for real and actually connect with spirits, it makes perfect sense that Alice jumps at the opportunity. In her eyes, she is finally able to do what she has been pretending to do all this time and make a real difference in the world. In doing so, Alice fails to see both the danger to Doris and other warning signs that suggest the spirits she speaks to aren’t who they claim to be.

When Doris first uses the Ouija board, it doesn’t appear to cause her any harm. During the course of the film, however, she displays signs that she is being possessed: she starts writing in Polish despite not speaking the language,she uses strange powers to fight back against two boys bullying her. Father Hogan notices that something is amiss, but Alice doesn’t. She is too focused on the great work she thinks her daughter is doing. Alice doesn’t even think to question the spirits beyond a basic test, as she is too wrapped up in what she thinks her daughter has to offer people. The fervor with which she encourages her daughter’s talents shines a light on Alice’s own grief. Through Doris’ gift, Alice has found a purpose for herself. She is still mourning her husband, and being able to heal the pain of others gives her something to strive for. It’s also possible that despite statements to the contrary, Alice felt guilt over lying to the people who sought her help. Now that she can genuinely contact the dead through her daughter, it would make sense for Alice to see this as a redemption of sorts — a way for her to make amends for her earlier lies.

Towards the end of the film, Alice’s older daughter, Paulina “Lina” (Annalise Basso), points out something rather alarming: the answers the ghosts have been giving are the same answers that Alice used to give clients when she pretended to commune with the dead. The ghosts have been manipulating Alice with her own con.

The film comes full circle, connecting back to the very first scene. Everything that was true of Alice’s customer in that scene is true of Alice at this point in the film. She desperately wants to believe that she is talking to the deceased, and whomever she is speaking to knows exactly what to say to get what they want from her. The difference is that these spirits don’t have Alice’s best interests in mind.

Ouija: Origin of Evil subverts the conventions of the horror genre with a sympathetic main character with a relatable motivation. The spirits tempt Alice with her heart’s desire and this keeps her invested in doing what they want, even when it becomes increasingly clear that something is wrong. Alice makes mistakes, ignoring Doris’ needs in favor of her own being chief among them. This is successfully portrayed as tragic because Alice is shown to be an otherwise good mother. She is involved in both her daughters’ lives, to the extent that she has multiple scenes with Father Hogan to discuss Doris’ well-being. When Lina brings her doubts to Alice, she is frustrated by her mother’s inability to really listen to what she is saying because she is used to her mother being more willing to listen. It was Lina who suggested incorporating the Ouija board into her mother’s act. That her mother followed this advice serves as evidence that Alice is usually willing to take Lina’s ideas. In the film’s first scene, the whole family works together to pull off the séance, showing that they normally function well together as a unit. Influenced by The Changeling (1980), Flanagan wanted to create a period piece exploring the dangers of grief within a family, as he views “family as the safest place in the world.”

Because the film takes the time to examine Alice’s motivation, these are truly mistakes and not plot holes. Instead of undermining the film, they serve to contribute to its depth of character. Ouija: Origin of Evil may be a prequel, but it is first and foremost a tragic character piece. One in which a previously strong family dynamic is torn apart when malicious forces use Alice’s grief to manipulate her.

Margaret Evans is a writer from Godalming, a small town in south England. She currently writes for Starburst Magazine and Ink Magazine.

‘Inside Out’: Does Riley Lack Agency?

Does Riley make decisions of her own, or are her decisions made for her by Anger, Disgust, Fear, Joy, and Sadness? … If Riley were completely subject to the whim of her emotions, they would be able to control her in any way at any time. However, ‘Inside Out’ repeatedly conveys that there are limits to what they can do when they interact with Riley.

This is a guest post written by Margaret Evans.

A few months ago, legendary animator Don Bluth made an interesting observation about the movie Inside Out. According to Bluth, Riley, the central character, lacks agency. This was a claim that I felt warranted further thought. Does Riley make decisions of her own, or are her decisions made for her by Anger, Disgust, Fear, Joy, and Sadness?

In order to answer that question we must first take a look at the emotions themselves. They are Riley’s emotions, each one is the embodiment of what Riley is feeling. You would think that this would end the debate there and then. If these characters are the expressions of Riley’s feelings than surely Riley does have agency. However, it should be noted how the emotions talk about Riley. While the emotions talk about Riley’s life as if it is their own, they talk about Riley in the third person. This has the unfortunate effect of distancing Riley from her emotions. Ironically, the well-rounded nature of her emotions works against the story that Pixar is trying to tell. We see her emotions as complete people in their own right rather than extensions of Riley. This isn’t helped by the fact that we see all of Riley’s decisions from the perspective of the emotions, reinforcing the idea that Riley is someone they collectively control.

Despite this, I still believe that Riley does exert some agency in Inside Out. Certain aspects of the film show the emotions being influenced by outside factors that they can’t explain. At the beginning, Sadness finds herself feeling the urge to participate in a way that she hasn’t in the past, much to the chagrin of Joy; a happy memory turns sad at Sadness’ touch and Joy is unable to merely change it back. When asked why she is “acting up,” all of a sudden Sadness doesn’t know why. This clearly indicates an example of Riley influencing how the emotions feel father than the other way around.

In my mind, this is just one way that proves that the emotions are the embodiment of how Riley feels rather than the deciders of how Riley feels. The emotions collectively may have put Joy in charge, but when Riley is sad, the film ultimately proves that they can’t just make Riley happy when it suits them.

Another example of this is the difference between two similar points in the movie. During a scuffle, Joy and Sadness are sucked up into Riley’s mind. Later, Fear tries to get the exact same thing to happen to him but it fails. No explanation within the film is given for this but I would argue that Riley subconsciously rejected Joy and Sadness and retained Fear. She wasn’t happy or sad but she was angry, disgusted and afraid. Finally, at the end of Inside Out, only Sadness is able to have any affect on Riley. Until Sadness gets through to her, the console that the emotions have been using throughout the film becomes completely inoperable.

If Riley were completely subject to the whim of her emotions, they would be able to control her in any way at any time. However, Inside Out repeatedly conveys that there are limits to what they can do when they interact with Riley. The emotions inhabit a world which is clearly governed by rules and they are subject to those rules.

When we watch Inside Out, it’s easy to look at the emotions and think that the personification of how Riley feels starts and ends with them. But it doesn’t. The train of thought that we see is just as important to understanding Riley as the emotions. The ground that Joy and Sadness walk on through their journey is just as much a part of Riley as the emotions themselves.

Ultimately, the reason why it appears that the emotions call the shots is because the way that Riley influences the emotions is much more subtle than the way that the emotions influence her. The emotions affect Riley in a very straightforward way that is easy to see: they press a button or pull a lever. The way that Riley impacts the emotions, however, remains subtle, and therefore much harder to identify. We see Riley’s influence in the rules that govern her mind — we are told that memories fade because she “decides” she doesn’t need them anymore — and when Joy can’t alter a memory near the end of the film. Riley doesn’t lack agency as her agency propels the plot and the choices she makes.

Margaret Evans is a blogger from Godalming, a small town in south England. She currently writes the blog Plot Twists and Continuity.

‘Despicable Me 2’: One of These Things Is Not Like the Other

Despicable Me 2 poster

This is a guest post by Margaret Evans.

I really enjoyed the first Despicable Me movie. The characters were all a lot of fun, the bond between Gru and his adopted daughters was believable, and the world that the movie built was interesting. When the sequel came out, I saw it in the cinema, and it was just as good as the first, if not better. However, one scene in the movie troubled me.

At one point, the main character, Gru, is set up on a date with a woman, and the date doesn’t go well. When Shannon (his date) threatens to reveal his wig, he is “saved” when Lucy (one of the female leads) tranquilises her. Gru and Lucy drop Shannon off at her house, and slapstick humour ensues on the way.

So, why does the slapstick humour aimed at Shannon bother me when I have no problem with either slapstick humour as a concept or even the slapstick humour inflicted upon Gru, his minions, or later the main antagonist? I believe that the answer to this question can be found by taking a look at how the characters react when they are the focus of slapstick.

Lucy spies on Gru during his date with Shannon

In the case of Gru, the best example of slapstick is when he gets hit by Lucy’s lipstick taser. His response is to start frantically moving; he even does a little bit of the dance from Saturday Night Fever. He is very animated and clearly in pain.

Shannon’s experience, on the other hand, is very different from Gru’s. The major difference between the two is that Gru is conscious … whereas Shannon is out for the count the whole time. Because of this, the humour doesn’t come from her reaction to the injuries that she is experiencing–but from her lack of reaction.

When Gru and Lucy take Shannon home, they don’t put her in the car or call for a taxi; they put her on the roof of the car, the same way you would put your luggage on the back of the car. When they arrive at Shannon’s house, she is unceremoniously thrown off of the car, and the other characters laugh about it. Now, imagine this scene again and–instead of Shannon–picture any inanimate object that you think fits. If you play this scene again in your mind with the changes, it will still make sense and be funny for the same reason.

Lucy and Gru

That is what troubled me about the scene with Shannon. In the case of Gru being tasered, the joke was his reaction and his pain, but in Shannon’s case, it was how she showed the exact same “reaction” that an inanimate object would (because she was unconscious). In Gru’s case, the humour has a humanising effect, but in Shannon’s case, the humour very literally objectifies her.

Now, it has been suggested to me that the reason Gru and Shannon are treated differently in this regard is that we are meant to sympathise with Gru because he is the good guy, and we are rooting for him, whereas we are meant to take delight in Shannon’s pain because she is cruel and obnoxious.

To counter this argument, I would like to take a look at the main villain. Near the end of the movie, the villain is defeated, in part by Gru using the same lipstick taser that Lucy used on him. The villain reacts in the same way that Gru did, and we can very clearly see the pain that he is experiencing because of the electricity. Yet, the humour still comes from his defeat rather than our feeling sorry for him. The movie does not use the character’s villainy as some sort of excuse to treat him as anything less than human.

Shannon from Despicable Me 2

Therefore, the fact that we are meant to strongly dislike Sharon and be rooting against her can’t be pinned down as the reason that her experience is so noticeably different from Gru’s. Neither can it be used as justification for the problematic elements.

The slapstick involving the other characters throughout the movie only serves to show that if the writers really wanted to pull some humour at the expense of Shannon, they could have easily done so without the need to reduce her character to the level of a piece of luggage.

The scene with Shannon is, for me, the sole off-putting scene in the movie. It is a scene in which being an irritating person and a bad date is used to justify knocking someone out–and in which a character gets treated the same way someone would treat an object that they felt didn’t need to be particularly handled with care. We, the audience, are meant to laugh along with Gru and Lucy, to view this all as an evening of comedic antics rather than what it actually is, complete disregard for her as a human being.

Gru, Lucy, and Shannon’s unconscious body

This scene didn’t ruin my enjoyment of the movie, but the rest of the movie doesn’t give this scene a free pass. Personally, I thought it was a real shame to see the direction that the movie temporarily took considering how good the movies had been up to that point at humanising its characters, (especially Gru, who played an archetype traditionally demonised in the first movie). I just wish that the people behind this movie could have put the same thought into writing the character of Shannon, however personally irritating they intended her to be.

Margaret Evans is a blogger from Godalming, a small town in south England. She contributes to the website www.paranerds.com. When she isn’t writing she volunteers as a receptionist for the local Citizen’s Advice Bureau and works as an admin for a local building firm.