Horror Week 2012: American Horror and the Evils of the Sexual Woman

Alexandra Breckinridge (l) and Frances Conroy (r) as American Horror Story‘s Moira
This is a guest post by Paul and Renee
In terms of the female characters on American Horror Story, there are quite a few problematic elements. There are the issues of violence and rape, but one that often gets overlooked is the treatment of sex. It is impossible to have a discussion about sex and American Horror Story without examining the character of Moira. 
In many ways, Moira is defined by her sexuality. Even her origin as a ghost came about through her sexuality, when Constance killed her for sleeping with her husband by shooting her in the eye and burying her body in the garden. 
Since that moment, her ghost has been stuck in the persona as a sexual object for the pleasure of straight men. It is expressly labelled as this by the way her body shifts form depending on who looks at her. Independent of all of the ghosts in the house, she is not stuck in the body she died in — she is not always the young, attractive woman that Constance murdered. She only ever appears as her original form when a straight man is looking at her and not only does her appearance change, but so does her demeanour, her words and her actions. Moira’s attractiveness, her body, her sexuality is only ever apparent when it is time to titillate a straight man — it’s expressly there for both straight male pleasure and to be used as a tool for power against straight men. And many of the living straight male characters recognise this: for example, Ben is surprised that Vivien is happy to keep Moira on, because her attractiveness and her overtly sexual and seductive demeanour is so blatantly aimed at him that he assumes Vivien must see her as a threat or problem (especially since he has cheated before).
When Moira is not around a living straight man, a target for that sexuality, she is an old woman displaying a damaged eye where she was shot. She is presented as completely lacking in sexual attractiveness — not only in appearance but in demeanour as well. Her sexual nature is reserved for straight men.
Moira’s most fascinating persona is that of an older woman played by Frances Conroy. Older Moira is virtually passive until Vivien Harmon enlists her help to scare a new family away from the murder house. This character plays upon the idea that seniors, particularly senior women, are not sexual and most certainly never the object of sexual desire.This is a societal construction that’s continually reified by the media. Consider for a moment that Sean Connery and Richard Gere are most definitely senior citizens but are still constructed as sex symbols and paired with significantly younger women in movies. There is never a question that they are desirable and their age is certainly never a barrier to sex. With Moira, her advanced age makes her decidedly non-sexual and, without the veneer of youth and sexuality, she is powerless and impotent.
Moira’s sexuality is also presented as dangerous. She is the temptress who leads men astray — the woman whose sexuality causes the man’s downfall. It is positively biblical with Moira representing Eve.

“Be it Lilith or Eve, is seen as the enemy of harmony, well ordered life and peace. She is the source of all evils, the originator of sin in the world. This negative understanding of the woman, particularly Eve, is presented in the words of some prominent male scholars. The Jewish commentator, Cassuto, maintains that the serpent too is female and the cunning of the serpent is in reality the cunning of the woman. The German Old Testament scholar, claims that women confront the allurements and mysteries that beset our limited life more directly than men do, and therefore, woman is a temptress. Mckenzie connects woman’s moral weakness with her sexual attraction and holds that the latter ruined both the woman and the man. Thus, male interpreters understand woman as responsible not only for the origin of evil in the world, but makes female “to represent the qualities of materiality, irrationality, carnality and finitude, which debase the manly spirit and drag it down into sin and death.”

In “Open House,” Moira seduces Joe Escandarian when she learns that he is considering buying the house and putting a pool out back. What makes their meeting interesting is that their flirtation occurs in the presence of Vivien and Marcy, who are shocked because, of course, all they can see is the older and certainly sexless Moira. Her goal is to get someone to dig up her bones, so that Constance can finally be held accountable for her murder. The next time Moira acts, she gives Joe oral sex, further enticing him to buy the house to get what she wants. In the end, Moira learns that Joe intends to tear down the house, she acts again, and this time it is to take part in Joe’s murder. She seduces him, initiates oral sex and then bites off his penis. In this we can see her constructed as Joe’s downfall. It’s not a new storyline, because women have been positioned in this manner since Eve fed Adam the apple and Delilah cut Samson’s hair. A woman’s sexuality, and any power ensuing from it, is a threat to men and eventually leads to some sort of disaster. And every scene where she is young and seductive has a faintly sinister feel, the way it is presented is threatening — her overt sexuality a weapon used against the helpless man who is desperately trying to resist. In some ways, Moira is almost a Jekyl and Hyde figure – with the good, supportive elderly Moira for the living women contrasting the evil, seductive, menacing young Moira for the men. 
But to look at Moira’s sexuality as purely a source of evil seduction for the poor men is to ignore the power differentials in these relationships — starting with her relationship with Constance’s husband that resulted in her death. In every case she is an employee, even with the living men who do not realise she is a ghost, she is in an inherent position of weakness to these men. We also have to ask what other tools she has? We have seen, in episode 7, Moira trying to seduce men to convince them to dig up her bones where they are buried. She wants freedom, she wants to be away from the murder house, we even see that she had family outside the murder house she wished to see and could only do so on hallowe’en. She is using the only tool she has to try to obtain freedom, to try and obtain some form of justice.
Moira does get to be seen as a tragic figure for this. We see her pain and her loss when her mother dies in a nursing home. We get to see her fear and frustration over trying to be free from the house and having her plans thwarted. We get to see her pain and anger in the face of Constance’s constant taunting and needling of her, still holding a grudge for her husband’s infidelity. But in all these instances we’re expected to sympathise with the older Moira — the good Moira, the non-threatening Moira and, tellingly, the non-sexual Moira. Sexual Moira is not a person to be pitied or a person due sympathy or who feels pain. 
As with many of the prejudices that run rampant on this programme, the sexualisation of Moira is overtly displayed but poorly challenged. The depth of Moira’s character and any sympathetic characteristics are all overshadowed by the simple narrative of the dangerous and even evil sexual woman. So strongly is this message carried that the writers don’t even try to make sexual Moira someone we can empathise with — only when she is stripped of all her sexuality does she get to be human.
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Paul and Renee blog and review at Fangs for the Fantasy. We’re great lovers of the genre and consume it in all its forms — but as marginalised people we also analyse critically through a social justice lens.

Horror Week 2012: Portrait of the Artist as the Demon’s Best Friend Forever

Jennifer’s Body (2009)
This is a guest post from Erin Blackwell.
Jennifer’s Body, the 2009 horror chick-flick that was a coming-of-age for sex goddess Megan Fox after hyper-lucrative, career-building toil under the aegis of Michael Bay’s teenage-boy-centric Transformers franchise, now enjoys a cult following outside the Transformers demographic. And yet, on release, Jennifer’s Body was widely panned by reviewers who were oddly outraged by its unworthiness. (Maybe they were bought off, but that would be another story.)
Maybe the male critics and audience somehow sensed this was the break-up film. Simultaneous to its release, Fox untied her tongue in interviews, famously comparing the Transformers director to Hitler, a salvo that sealed her fate with the franchise and, at least initially, its fans. They felt betrayed.
Megan Fox as Jennifer
They were right, they had been betrayed: by their own phallocentric delusion that women exist to serve men, and its tributary delusion that Megan Fox enjoyed performing the objectified sidekick to Shia LeBoeuf’s action hero, and more poignantly, that she intuited from the far side of the screen how hot she made them, each guy individually, and that meant something to her beyond a sense of power and a pay check. She was their admission-priced, inaccessible, fantasy, group girlfriend. Until she wasn’t any more. Sorry, Boys. Game over.
It took chutzpah to give Bay that well-publicized kiss-off. The same year Jennifer’s Body, directed by Karyn Kusama, grossed $30 million worldwide on a $15 million budget and uniformly dismal reviews, Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen, directed by Michael Bay, grossed $400 million on a $200 million budget. (But that’s yet another story.)
SPOILER ALERT: Out of respect to writer Diablo Cody’s wondrous storyline, I’m not pretending this movie is only worth seeing once and in total ignorance. In fact, it must be seen at least twice to be fully appreciated. Call it complex storytelling, hidden depth, flaws in the plot structure and/or direction, or all of the above.
Jennifer’s Body is the story of a lush cheerleader ritualistically murdered by the cute lead singer of boy band Low Shoulder, in a pact with the Devil for fame and stardom. Unfortunately for the teenage males of suburban Devil’s Kettle, the cheerleader is thereby transformed into a bite’em’n’eat’em serial killer, selecting, seducing, and isolating male classmates before offing them at their most pathetically tumescent — on the brink, they think, of experiencing the private pleasures of her flesh. Bummer for the guys onscreen and a refreshing, amusing twist for a jaded female audience.
Needy (Amanda Seyfried) and Jennifer (Megan Fox)
Demon-Jennifer is a bodacious avatar of female rage — plus other less righteous emotions, hormones, and vanities. Her story is told by best friend Anita, nicknamed Needy, the gawky sidekick in glasses who’s a bit smitten by Jennifer’s “saltiness.” Needy eventually figures out her friend is “actually evil.” For her boyfriend Chip’s sake, Needy is forced to fight her to the death. As narrator, Needy frames the action, told in flashback, from her prison cell. This formal device complicates the plot but pays off in a clever denouement shown in a montage of stills and video under the closing credits. As I write that sentence, I have to wonder why this vital piece of story — Needy’s revenge massacre of Low Shoulder — is relegated to an afterthought.
So, it’s a (media) story within a (movie) story, a star within a character, and a film within a genre or two. Any way you slice it, Jennifer’s Body is disputed territory — which gives that awkward title the post-modern cachet of multiple readings. Is it slasher? Chick flick? Coming-of-age? Vampire? Feminist? Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes. It’s even vampire-lesbian, a tease it declines to exploit; teen psycho, cultural satire, and New Romantic.
Amanda Seyfried as Needy
Two things make the film hard to watch, or clearly “see.” First, Megan Fox’s bravura glamour. As Needy, Amanda Seyfried is every inch an actress and holds her own, but Kusama’s camera gives Fox’s fearsome symmetry the kind of attention ultimately detrimental to a storyline. No one’s going to complain, but droolworthy Fox detracts from Needy’s story, and that’s a problem because Needy is our low-profile protagonist, and she bookends the film. For the script to work, we have to root for both halves of this dynamic duo, until we let go of Jennifer and follow Needy, whose rage is less psychosis and more personal-is-political focus.
Second, Diablo Cody’s free-form plotting, with its gratuitous flashbacks and ill-timed exposition, impedes the film’s forward drive. The most glaring example comes three-quarters in, when Jennifer suddenly decides to let Needy and the audience in on the details of her own heinous murder. We don’t know why we’re suddenly watching a missing narrative chunk in flashback, but the footage is compelling and when it’s over, Jennifer suddenly comes on to Needy in their much hyped lesbian moment. Heat trumps logic, just like in high school. Are they going to do it? No. Was it actual lesbian heat? Um. Can hormonally unstable Jennifer’s power plays be assigned a stable orientation other than “on?”
Demon Jennifer
Since Jennifer herself is clueless how she returned from the dead, Needy makes a trip to the Occult section of the campus library to discover “demonic transference happens when you try to sacrifice a virgin to Satan who isn’t an actual virgin.” Great. Now Needy’s best friends with a demon. She tries to warn Chip, who, as her boyfriend, is the obvious next victim on Jennifer’s list of perversions.
Needy: Jennifer’s evil.
Chip: I know.
Needy: No, I mean, she’s actually evil. Not high-school evil.
Such stock-in-trade dialogue wherein the danger to an individual or the community is willfully ignored, is kept to a minimum, yet it’s one of the treats of the monster genre. Remember the original Dracula (1931), with Bela Lugosi? It’s worth a look, in sumptuous black and white. Yes, it’s ham-fisted, stilted, stagey, featuring a bat on a string, but it’s pretty authoritative about Transylvanian vampire lore — sleeping habits (coffin, native soil, diurnal), telltale signs (no reflection in mirrors, fear of sunlight), and remedies (garlic, crosses, stake through heart). Tracking and dissecting vampire quirks is half the fun of having them around.
Vampire trope
The pleasure of recognition, that ghastly chill down the spine, is mostly missing here, because this is less a genre movie than a rite of passage dressed-up in the tropes of horror. Emotion, intuition, everyday telepathy between close friends are on a sliding-scale from everyday reality to full-blown inexplicable mayhem. Rules governing demons are introduced piecemeal, and Jennifer’s sudden new talents — like projectile vomiting black goo — are momentary gross-outs devoid of gravitas. Such tricks work less well a second time. Worse, Jennifer’s ability to rise in the air and hover is abruptly revealed in the climactic fight scene to no strategic advantage. Surprising but not really satisfying, the hovering trick later powers Needy’s prison escape. Is that why it was introduced when it wasn’t necessary?
So, okay, Cody’s script is loose-weave. It’s also fresh, grrrl-centric, fed-up with male ego/privilege, and full of satiric touches. And yeah, Megan Fox overwhelms the cast and crew with her performative beauty, but she’s both a great icon for most-popular-cheerleader-with-perfect-cheekbones and a recognizable teenager: a bipolar wreck under her foundation, an insecure bitch seducing her best friend’s boyfriend, a naive groupie seeking validation from a small-time boy band “from the city.”
The central pleasure of Jennifer’s Body — the confusing love Needy feels for Jennifer, and the trouble she takes to clarify that feeling, and act on it (revenging Chip), then act on it again (revenging pre-demon Jennifer) — might be precisely what turned off male reviewers. For all the promise of eye candy going in, this is a story about young women negotiating the horrors of the adolescent-to-adult obstacle course with some dignity, loyalty, and social conscience intact. The infamous male gaze has to work harder to appropriate a film told from the p.o.v. of cute but bookish, shy but self-respecting Needy, whose closest bond is, and might ever be, her friend Jennifer.
The two girls have four big scenes together:
Date with Destiny: Jennifer uses Needy as a disposable date in her quest for the Low Shoulder lead singer, to the annoyance of Chip, who had a date with his girlfriend. When bad things start to happen at the rustic Melody Lane Tavern, Jennifer ignores Needy’s screams to leave. Oblivious to danger or perhaps unconsciously courting self-destruction, Jennifer gets into the band’s scuzzy retro van. Cue: loss of innocence.
Jennifer and Needy’s much-hyped lesbian moment
Same-Sex practicum: Jennifer hides in Needy’s bed, confesses her own murder, then starts making love to Needy, who lets herself go until she jumps off the bed screeching, “What are you doing?” By scene’s end, Needy knows she has to be the adult.
Prom Night from Hell: in a swampy, abandoned public pool, Jennifer kills Chip and fends off a tongue-lashing from Needy before slithering away without eating his flesh. This climactic scene is less exciting than it should be, crushed under the weight of an overly elaborate set and Jennifer’s ho-hum hovering, but signals the beginning of the end.
Liebestod: Jennifer’s bedroom, when Needy comes in through the window to kill her. In this passionate encounter, the two young women fight like wildcats on the bed and in the air. The fight is physical, metaphysical, and deeply emotional. When Needy rips the BFF locket from around her neck, Jennifer’s eyes register defeat, loss, submission. If she’s not Needy’s best friend forever, what’s the point of immortality? With suddenly slack lids, she gazes into Needy’s eyes in eroticized surrender. How do you spell Romantic death wish? Finally, Needy has topped Jennifer. Maybe that’s all she ever wanted. Then comes the death blow: box cutter to the heart. Wow.
Online movie review clearinghouse Rotten Tomatoes gives Jennifer’s Body a measly 43% rating, which I take as an indication of factors, like misogyny and male entitlement, beyond the reach of wonderful filmmaking. Their summary judgment: Jennifer’s Body features occasionally clever dialogue but the horror/comic premise fails to be either funny or scary enough to satisfy. I guess it all depends on who you’re trying to “satisfy.”
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Erin Blackwell is a practicing astrologer who blogs at venus11house and pinkrush. Congratulations to Megan Fox and Brian Austin Green on their new baby boy.

Horror Week 2012: 7 Great Heroines from Scary Movies

Guest post written by Candice Frederick. Originally published at Reel Talk. Cross-posted with permission.
Continuing our festive Halloween coverage, we bring you a list of our favorite female heroes from scary movies. Whether they’re your favorite characters are not, you have to give them props for not dying (right away, at least). Check it out:
Ali Larter as Clear Rivers in Final Destination
CLEAR RIVERS (Final Destination): Clear Rivers (Ali Larter) started out as a throwaway character, just one of the many victims who would be annihilated by her own fate in the freak accident-prone Final Destination. But once she used her noggin and started outwitting the big, bad fate, audiences realized that she could not only protect herself, but also protect new victims. When she checked herself into a mental facility in the second movie, to steer clear of flying daggers, speeding buses and any other unfastened and uninhibited objects, you just knew this chick was badass. She was a true hero and surely the most memorable character in the franchise.
Sigourney Weaver as Ellen Ripley in Aliens
ELLEN RIPLEY (Aliens): This is perhaps the only scary movie where the villain (a 7-foot alien) was actually slightly intimidated by the intended victim, in this case a female lieutenant trapped on board an alien-infested ship. If she was ever frightened by the aliens, Ripley rarely showed it. As one of the only women on the ship, Ripley (Sigourney Weaver) often swooped down to save her fellow male shipmates from becoming dinner for the aliens without hardly breaking a sweat. This is why we love her.
Milla Jovovich as Alice in Resident Evil
ALICE (Resident Evil): Well, what do you know? Four movies later and our favorite military officer is still drop-kicking flesh-eating scientists and taking names. As countless others fell prey to these monsters, Alice (Milla Jovovich) is the only character to outlive even the smartest of them. She’s sexy, she’s wise and even manages to have a few clever one-liners hidden in her vest. What’s not to love?
Jamie Lee Curtis as Laurie Strode in Halloween
LAURIE STRODE (Halloween): Arguably one of the most iconic heroines in cinema, babysitter Laurie Strode (Jamie Lee Curtis) wasn’t actually much of a hero, at first. She was tormented by her lunatic older brother Michael Myers in the first two movies. But in later installments, the character became less of a frightened victim and more of a pissed off nemesis for the villain. She was pure entertainment.
Heather Langenkamp as Nancy Thompson in Nightmare on Elm Street
NANCY THOMPSON (Nightmare On Elm Street): There’s something about Nancy (Heather Langenkamp) that was ever so enticing for Mr. Knives-For-Fingers himself, Freddy Krueger. He loved tormenting her. It really just seemed like great fun for him. But Freddy treated her as someone who was hard to kill, like he was almost frustrated because she knew how to deal with him–she knew his weaknesses and that made her as prey interesting. Her awesomeness made the rest of us brilliant insomniacs.
Neve Campbell as Sidney Prescott in Scream
SIDNEY PRESCOTT (Scream): Neve Campbell, who plays the eternal victim from the Scream movies, never really was much of an actress. But she found her niche as Sidney, the high school student whose mother’s death made her prime victim for a series of murders plaguing a small town. Like many other heroines before her, the murderers (different in every movie) would often get outsmarted or outrun by Sidney. She carried that perfect balance of sheepish victim and maniacal prey that we viewers love.
Kate Beckinsale as Selene in Underworld
SELENE (Underworld): Never since Buffy, the Vampire Slayer has an inter-breed romance been so juicy on the big screen. And that’s partly due to Kate Beckinsale’s Selene, a vampire caught between her love for a werewolf right in the middle of the famous vampire/werewolf civil war. Selene is beautiful, seductive, and can terrorize a vampire just as quick as she can destroy a threatening werewolf. She’s so much fun to watch.
Rose McGowan as Cherry Darling in Grindhouse: Planet Terror
CHERRY DARLING (Grindhouse: Planet Terror): Only Cherry Darling (Rose McGowan) could help destroy a town of melting zombies with one leg. After losing her leg in an unfortunate zombie match, wannabe comedienne Cherry props up her missing leg with a random stick (courtesy of ex-boyfriend, Wray). Stumbling at first with her new limb, Cherry later kicked countless zombie butt with her stick leg-turned-machine gun leg, whipping around fences and driving getaway trucks. Not to mention she had killer comedic wit. She became the best handicapped heroine of scary movies.

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Candice Frederick is an NABJ award-winning journalist and film blogger for Reel Talk. She’s also written for Essence Magazine and The Urban Daily. Follow her on twitter.

Horror Week 2012: ‘Absentia’ Showcases Terror, Strong Female Characters and Sisterhood

Guest post written by Deirdre Crimmins.
Though I like explosions and interesting methods of execution as much as any other horror fan, it is always great characterization and relationships that make a horror film great. Actually, great characters and their relationships are what help make any film great, but often they are an afterthought in horror films. Too often we see a group of teenagers getting hunted by a maniac, and we never know any of their names or why they were poking around that abandoned cabin in the first place. And while I do like those sorts of films — I would even argue that torture porn films should have a place in horror’s canon — it is the films that have characters I care for that haunt me for years. And should that not be the goal for any horror film?
Last year’s Absentia is just such a film. I first saw it when it was making its lauded tour of the film festival circuit, and to this day certain scenes and concepts in it still disturb me. These images grab me in the middle of my day-to-day life and make me uneasy to continue on. Absentia terrified me, which is not an easy thing to do.
In addition to actually being scary (something that an unfortunate number of current horror films avoid) Absentia also features two lead female characters, and the bedrock of the film’s plot is their relationship. These two characters, sisters Callie (Katie Parker) and Tricia (Courney Bell) are not there simply to be eye candy, or to function as the lustful objects of affection for a killer, but rather they are there because they are both strong, flawed, and painfully relatable. It does not necessarily matter that they are women, but it matters more that they are family and that writer/director Mike Flanagan has created two fully formed characters, rather than all too common caricatures.

L-R: Callie (Katie Parker) and Tricia (Courtney Bell) in Absentia
The film starts with the reunion of Callie and Tricia. Callie is the younger, free-spirited and troubled sister, who has wandered in and out of her sister’s life since they were young. She has come to be with Tricia at a time when Tricia needs her most. Seven years ago Tricia’s husband, Daniel (Morgan Peter Brown) disappeared without a trace. No note, no body — just gone. Tricia needs Callie there for strength as she mourns. She is no longer mourning the loss of Daniel, but now is struggling with the loss of hope. Tricia has decided to finally declare Daniel as dead in absentia. Callie is eager to be at Tricia’s side as she too is trying desperately to get her life back on track.
Tricia’s decision to legally acknowledge Daniel’s death has reignited a host of emotions that she has little to no control over. She has clearly moved on in some ways, as she is nearly 8 months pregnant with the lead detective’s child, but that does not stop her from the dread and guilt of finally letting go. Tricia has taken up Buddhist meditation as a way to calm and center herself, which is a mystery to the Catholic Callie.
Though the initial circumstances of the sister’s reunion seem more like a melodrama than a horror film, the film’s plot quickly twists and turns from there with each sister confronting their own demons (possibly literally) and negotiating their levels of trust in one another.

Tricia (Courtney Bell) in Absentia
For Tricia, her biggest battle initially is that she keeps seeing Daniel. His image jumps out at her in the middle of the street, or at the back of her closet. And the Daniel she keeps seeing is not the Daniel she lost. He is gaunt, and in pain, and seems to be stalking her so that she cannot move on with her life. Each time Daniel pops up on screen, it makes you jump in fear. It is both startling, and the image itself of this disheveled, whimper of a man is disturbing. However these instances are not just the cheap jumps that would scare you in a haunted house. When Daniel is there, the camera does not flinch. Rather you get to see how painful it is for Tricia to be living in fear of these moments. She cannot escape the horror of her husband’s mysterious disappearance, and the prospect of never being able to live without him terrifies her. By watching her fright and seeing this woman who has been through so much continue to get emotionally berated that the real horror of her situation becomes clear. The horror is in Daniel’s lingering, and not in his sudden appearance.
Callie is having her own issues with the curious neighborhood she has moved to. It seems that people, and small animals, often go missing on Tricia’s street. There is a long dark tunnel just at their cul-de-sac that seems to keep calling Callie, though her instincts tell her to stay away. It is the lure of that tunnel, and what might be lurking beneath it, which is the true terror of the film.
Callie (Katie Parker) in Absentia
I cannot emphasize enough how astoundingly convincing the two lead characters are. Both actresses deliver nuanced and genuine performances as believable sisters. These two have a long and complicated history together, and their relationship cannot be summed up with a single line of dialogue. However they do communicate their relationship by how they act around one another, how they fight, and how they forgive. You feel deeply for each of them, and understand the longing they each feel to be forgiven by one another for all of the issues in their past. 
While I could continue on about the remarkable characterization of Callie and Tricia, it saddens me a little bit that strong non-sexualized female characters in horror films are such a unique phenomenon. While there are plenty of ass-kicking final women in slasher films, and many smart lady doctors who help stop the spread of a zombie outbreak, it is rare to feature a realistic female friendship, or a complicated sibling rivalry, in a horror film. Both Callie and Tricia are attractive, but that is not why they are there. The purpose that they are serving goes so far beyond their gender and their bodies that the contrast to other horror vixens seems like night and day. And neither of them plays the victim, or the unnaturally stoic heroine. They are both complex, and with long histories that they carry with themselves, and impact their judgments. 
Had Absentia featured the relationship between two brothers, rather than the sisters, it would still be an artfully crafted, ambitious, successful, and utterly terrifying horror film. The fact that is does feature two multi-dimensional female leads makes it that much more satisfying and original. It is one of the few recent horror films that I recommend to every horror fan, without a single reservation. 
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Deirdre Crimmins lives in Boston with her husband and two black cats. She wrote her Master’s thesis on George Romero and works too much.

Horror Week 2012: The Failure of the Male Gaze in ‘The Vampire Lovers’

The Vampire Lovers | L-R: Carmilla (Ingrid Pitts) and Laura (Pippa Steel)

Guest post written by Lauren Chance.

It is a truth universally acknowledged that any fandom, genre or medium must be in want of some lesbians and lo, the so-called ‘lesbian vampire’ genre that exists as a subsidiary to the vampire mythology is here to theoretically do what all lesbian sub-genres inevitably exist for. Horror, to speak generally, is created by men for men and vampires, with their sexual connotations and otherness are arguably the finest example of the masculine expression of the dominant male — one that kills as it penetrates and, as Bram Stoker would have it, infects the mind of the innocent, virtuous and above all else, stupid female.

The lesbian vampire is something of an anomaly though. Rather than being an offshoot of an established genre, it was created alongside the mainstream vampire genre as we know it today. Carmilla, the story upon which The Vampire Lovers (1970) was based, was by no means the first example of vampire fiction, however, it was amongst the very early entries into what was to become an extremely saturated genre. It predates Dracula by twenty-five years and the lyrical ballad from which Le Fanu purportedly took influence was written by Coleridge in 1797… which does predate John Polidori’s The Vampyre — the first established vampire text — by over twenty years.
Which is a roundabout way of saying that the lesbian vampire genre arguably came first in terms of coherent narratives about vampires. But why so much context only to discuss a minor entry into the canon of vampire filmography? Purely because The Vampire Lovers, above all other films with a strong Sapphic vampire plot best embodies the unashamedly sexual aspects of the story and the spirit of intriguing intimacy that Le Fanu put into his text.
Carmilla (Ingrid Pitt) in The Vampire Lovers

In both the novella and The Vampire Lovers, Carmilla exclusively stalks female victims, showing little interest in the male characters as anything other than fodder or a means to an end; Ingrid Pitt’s Carmilla never looks quite as comfortable with the lone male in the film she interacts with in a sexual manner as she does with the various women she seduces and bites. As an acting choice it works wonders towards directing a great deal of the interest and sympathy in the film firmly towards Carmilla, rather than the largely inconsequential male lead who is filmed as a somewhat heroic lead but, as with all of the male characters, is filmed as if we should have no reason to be interested in them: there is no doubt that Ingrid Pitt and Carmilla are the stars of this film, regardless of Peter Cushing’s presence.

The Vampire Lovers was the first of the Karnstein Trilogy and as time went on the lesbian subtext dwindled significantly despite the second film also being based on Carmilla, however, there is a very telling difference between Yutte Stensgaard’s almost indifferent attitude to the other women in the cast and eventually her love for a human man in Lust for a Vampire (1971) and the loving, tender way Ingrid Pitt approaches her three primary victims. Pitt’s Carmilla caresses them in their beds, kisses them with obvious intention, undresses them and gazes adoringly at her chosen prey until it is hers. The girls are shown reclining, receptive, vulnerable, eternally dressed in white at night and pastel colours during the day. Laura is peaches and cream English, perfect and untouched and within the first twenty minutes of the film we see in a microcosm how Carmilla operates. She finds a way into Laura’s home, befriends her, touches her as a lover would and then begins to slowly drain the life out of her: mostly, it has to be noted, by biting her breasts. Their bond is such that the male characters don’t even register that it could be problematic. Laura’s father comments that “Laura seems devoted to her [Carmilla].” At the first grand ball where Carmilla first spots Laura, Karl dismisses his intended’s suggestion that the mysterious woman is interested in him and instead insists “Nonsense, she’s looking at you.” No one ever comments upon why Carmilla is looking at Laura. As Laura deteriorates though her reliance and devotion to Carmilla, or Mircarla as this household know her, begins to cause strife amongst the men, her father and the Doctor are helpless in the face of Laura’s bond with Carmilla.
L-R: Carmilla (Ingrid Pitt) and Laura (Pippa Steel) in The Vampire Lovers
It is interesting that there is no indication that Laura holds any lasting interest for Carmilla. The vampire moves on with her mysterious – and never explained – Aunt/Countess and is soon in place in the household of Laura’s long-distance friend, Emma. Carmilla’s cycle begins again.

L-R: Emma (Madeline Smith) and Marcilla (Ingrid Pitt) in The Vampire Lovers
The film can be neatly cut up into three sections. The first is Laura’s and the final section involves the male characters delving into the Karnstein history and trying to discover Carmilla’s tomb. However, the second section, by far the most engrossing, is very curious in that it could quite easily come from any romance. As with Le Fanu and Carmilla’s predecessor, Coleridge’s Christabel, there are fewer mentions of vampiric activity and Carmilla’s affection for Emma are much more dominant in the narrative than her true nature. What makes The Vampire Lovers such an intensely curious film is that one would imagine the lesbian scenes would be exploitative and, if not crude, then certainly unnecessarily over-the-top. However, this is not the case and I respectfully doff my cap at Hammer Horror and director Roy Baker.
The usual calling cards of Hammer Horror are straightforward: a fairly basic plotline, a “repertory”-esque cast of actors, interchangeably buxom women who meet theoretically grisly but aesthetically titillating ends and the sense that the whole thing is one big joke that everybody, from the actors to the audience are in on. Now, please don’t misunderstand me. This author loves a bit of nonsensical horror romping as much as the next discerning viewer. But there’s no getting around the fact that the Hammer productions were not great works of art; they could in fact be better described as a kind of soft-core horror pornography, filled with fire-engine red blood and more nudity that one would strictly need in a story that was ostensibly about a preying vampire. And yet the two most notably sexual scenarios in the film are directed with a great deal of grace and merit. In both situations Ingrid Pitt has long since lost any clothes she began with (at no point does she ever seemed perturbed about her general state of undress) and Carmilla is preparing to utterly seduce someone.
The Vampire Lovers

The Vampire Lovers

There is a softly lit air of concealment to the first scene and a rather more obvious silhouette to the second, however, it would be difficult to argue that though the scenes are sexual in nature, they aren’t presented through the “male gaze.” These women aren’t entering into carnal pleasures that they inexplicably have every knowledge of already and are therefore able to put on a show for the gratification of others; indeed the appreciation of Carmilla is seen in the faces of the female characters and it is with tentative exploration that they approach the mysterious woman.

Mme. Perrodot (Kate O’Mara) in The Vampire Lovers
Arguably, as with any interpretation of vampire texts, one could say that Carmilla is preying upon victims who simply don’t understand what is happening to them. The taking of blood by an unnatural source from a girl on the cusp of womanhood who, tellingly, has no mother to guide her through puberty is a parallel too obvious to explore at length. But one could argue that when Carmilla kisses Laura, her intended victim perhaps doesn’t notice that there is anything extraordinary in the embrace and thus succumbs to it. On the other hand Emma can have been left in very little doubt of Carmilla’s intentions when the vampire declares her love and insists, “I don’t want anyone to take you away from me.” There is emotion behind Carmilla’s desire for Emma that does not simply extend to the carnal and Pitt and Baker use every opportunity to fill the screen with longing looks and claustrophobic framing of the two women — Emma and Carmilla are never especially far from each other.
Inevitably though Carmilla must die. But, as befitting of The Vampire Lovers, in which a multitude of things regarding Emma and Carmilla’s intimate relationship are allowed to go unsaid and unmentioned by the other characters, there is the clear suggestion that Emma is not entirely rid of Carmilla’s influence. At the moment of the vampire’s final death, Emma is languishing in her bed, having been saved by Karl and despite her safety, she cries out in horror when the final blow is struck.
Emma (Madeline Smith) in The Vampire Lovers
It is very telling that the final moment in the film is a hint that the deep nature of their relationship is something the men cannot sever and neither can they entirely take Emma away from Carmilla now that she has had her. The lesbian vampire sub-genre as we know it today has suffered serious set-backs since The Vampire Lovers, which seems a thoroughly unlikely thing to say when one considers that it was made over forty years ago now. However, there is a single-mindedness to Pitt’s Carmilla that makes her enthralling for the audience and a certain tone of her performance that lifts the character out of being gratuitous with her lusts and desires. She wants Emma and she intends to have her, there is no debate over what the men think of the situation, no snide jokes that are there entirely to belittle the female relationship. In portraying the men as being entirely ignorant, Baker allows the audience to see the relationship from Carmilla and Emma’s perspective. Their touches are not always sexual, but sensual instead, the kisses not entirely chaste but always intimate and above all else the love Carmilla has for Emma is entirely between them with no one else ever being aware of it.
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Lauren Chance has a Masters in English Literature and lives in London, carefully avoiding that horrible and impossible moment when one grows tired of the City and existence at the same time. She had written on Daphne du Maurier most recently and a number of other things during her colourful experience at Queen Mary, University of London. She is particularly interested in biopics at the moment and hopes one will shortly be made about Ingrid Pitt. You can follow her tumblr at http://crackalley.tumblr.com/.

Horror Week 2012: ‘The Strangers’: The Horror of Home Invasion and the Power of the Final Girl

 
Guest post written by Mychael Blinde. Originally published at Vagina Dentwata. Cross-posted with permission.
The home invasion horror film The Strangers received bad reviews. Like, really bad. Critics wrote things like:
“What a waste of a perfectly good first act! And what a maddening, nihilistic, infuriating ending!”

and:
“Kind of like what The Shining might be if you took out the ESP. And the ghosts. And the chilling atmosphere. So call it The Sucking.”

But The Strangers totally works for me as both a horror fan and a feminist. Here’s why: 
As a horror fan: 
The film opens with Kristin (Liv Tyler) and James (Scott Speedman) driving to his parents’ rural summer home in uncomfortable silence. We learn that they have come from a friend’s wedding, at which James proposed to Kristen. Kristen has rejected his proposal, not because she doesn’t love James, but because she isn’t ready to get married. 
The sense of discomfort and unease we feel at the couple’s awkward, painful situation transforms into a sense of fear and alarm with a loud knock on a large door at 4 in the morning. We are emotionally invested in the characters when the shit starts to go down — and boy does shit go down. But The Strangers takes its time. 
The cinematography contributes to the film’s tone of discomfort: the camera is never steady, and the subtly shaky hand held shots jostle the viewer. Director Bryan Bertino makes great use of wide angle shots, forcing the viewer to strain hir eyes looking for the killer in the peripheral screen space. 
Kristin (Liv Tyler) in The Strangers | I spy with my little eye a creepy-as-fuck guy!
The sound effects are equally disconcerting. The Strangers assaults the audience with banging and crashing, and most terrifying of all, with silence. It insists that its audience listen; diegetic sounds like a repeating record player situate the audience in the film’s world. And in case you had any doubts, Liv Tyler can scream. 
The aesthetic has a vaguely 70s feel (the car, record player), but The Strangers dates itself as late 00s by the two silver flip cell phones. The 70s props and look, paired with the strong sense of rural-areas-are-scary-places-full-of-psycho-killers urbanoia and the masked* assailants call to my mind The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. But in The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, it is not the psycho killers who invade the house, but their victims.  
James (Scott Speedman) and Kristin (Liv Tyler) in The Strangers
 
The Strangers is a more like Funny Games: it’s a home invasion horror in which the violence is presented as horrible, inexplicable, and inevitable. Director Michael Haneke created Funny Games as a reaction to (and criticism of) the Quentin Tarantino style of glamorized violence. Funny Games explicitly asks its audience to think about why we enjoy watching horrible things being inflicted upon people.  
The Strangers doesn’t take things that level of meta cinematic criticism, but it makes its point. 
The Strangers | “Why are you doing this?” “Because you were home.”
Sometimes humans do awful things to other humans for no reason at all. Violence is always horrific, and sometimes it is senseless and inexplicable. In the wake of the shooting at the screening of The Dark Knight Rises — a movie that certainly falls into the category of stylized violence — the representation of violence as ugly and meaningless in The Strangers resonates strongly with me. 
As a feminist: 
Kristin is the character with whom we spend the entirety of the film. In the beginning, while James goes to get her more cigarettes, and later when he stupidly breaks the first rule of surviving a horror film and goes off on his own, the audience stays with Kristen. 
Not only is she the film’s protagonist, she’s a woman who is not presented as a helpless idiot. When the shit gets real, she puts on pants. 
The screenplay makes a point of establishing Kristin’s affinity for her bridesmaid’s dress. After the couple arrives at the house Kristin, takes a bath, and instead of changing into sleepwear she puts on her dress again. She explains to James that this is the only day she gets to wear it, and says, “It makes me feel pretty.”
Kristin (Liv Tyler) in The Strangers
Director Bertino could have easily left Liv in her flimsy pink dress for the duration of the film.** Not only would this have accentuated her vulnerability, it would have offered ample opportunity to include titillating look-how-sexy-she-is-while-she’s-being-attacked shots. 
But Bertino opts not to portray violence as sexy. When masked weirdos attack, pretty is not a priority; Kristin doesn’t hesitate to change into something more sensible for combating psychotic murderers: pants! 
 It is Kristin who loads the shotgun after James confesses he’d lied about going hunting with his father and doesn’t know how to work it. Ultimately, James fires the gun, but by loading it Kristin proves she isn’t an incompetent damsel-in-distress. Throughout the film she strives to fight back. 
Kristin (Liv Tyler) in The Strangers
In Men, Women, and Chainsaws, Carol Clover identifies a film trope common to the horror genre: the Final Girl, the last woman left alive who ultimately wields the metaphorical phallus and kills the monster. 
The Final Girl phenomenon is problematic because it is predicated on society’s sexist notion that women are the weaker sex. But scream time results in screen time, and while watching a movie like The Strangers, with whom is the viewer being asked to identify? The masked maniac? Or the woman frantic to survive? (Hint: it’s not the maniac.) 
The character of the Final Girl offers women a chance to play protagonists in films marketed to men, which offers men the chance to identify with female characters. Which is awesome. 
Kristin doesn’t exactly fit the requirements for Final Girl status, but she is the character with whom viewers of The Strangers are encouraged to identify, and she is presented as woman who is neither stupid nor incompetent. 
Yes, The Strangers is derivative. Films about home invasion have been made before, and a movie about a woman being terrorized by a masked assailant isn’t exactly original. But in spite of its myriad predecessors, The Strangers manages to keep things creepy as fuck — all without resorting to tired sexism or misogyny. 
* * *
*“Dollface,” “Pin-up Girl,” and “Man in the Mask.” What do you make of the way the masks gender the assailants? 
 **Liv does end up back in that pink dress in the film’s bleak climax, but she is never sexualized. 
———-
Mychael Blinde is interested in representations of gender and popular culture and blogs at Vagina Dentwata.  

Horror Week 2012: The Final Girl Gone Wild: Post-Feminist Whiteness in ‘Scream 4’

 
Guest post written by Jeremy Cornelius. Warning: massive spoilers ahead!!

Wes Craven’s 1990s Scream trilogy completely rewrote the slasher genre in a postmodern meta-film. In March 2011, Scream 4 was released, ten years after Scream 3 was originally released, starring the original trio: Neve Campbell, David Arquette, and Courtney Cox-Arquette along with some new teen stars to apparently spur a new trilogy. Yet again, this film rewrites the genre, only this time the film plays with concepts of post-racial, post-feminist girl power by making Ghost Face a white sixteen-year-old girl, Sidney Prescott’s cousin Jill (played by Emma Roberts). Craven portrays Jill as the most violent and aggressive killer of any of the other serial killers in the Scream films. Jill kills mostly other white teenage girls (her best friends), a black police officer who is depicted in a racist fashion, and her own mother. Jill’s vitriolic aggression is fueled by her neoliberal pursuit of media fame and self-consciously performing the role of victim while veiling herself as the white-faced killer draped in a black shroud.

 
Jill Roberts (Emma Roberts) in Scream 4
In the original 1996 Scream film, which Scream 4 constantly refers to and reconstructs, a masked killer known as Ghost Face begins terrorizing a predominantly white upper-middle class neighborhood in rural Woodsboro, California. Sidney is the sixteen-year-old protagonist, who is dating a boy named Billy. Her mother, Maureen Prescott, is mysteriously murdered one year before these serial murders and the film starts in Woodsboro. And Gail Weathers (Cox), a TV journalist, covered “last year’s hottest court case,” and the fame-obsessed Weathers is in the process of finishing up a book on the murders entitled, The Woodsboro Murders. Meanwhile, Deputy Dewey Riley (Arquette) is the bumbling deputy on a (usually) failed mission to look after Sidney. Dewey’s character is in the tradition of Craven’s depiction of the two bumbling cops in his first film, and commonly known exploitation flick, The Last House on the Left. Drew Barrymore has a brief cameo at the beginning of the first film (she was the original pick for the character of Sidney) and is the first victim. The unseen killer calls her as she is home alone about to watch a scary movie. After much stalker-esque dialogue between the killer and Barrymore, she is viciously stabbed and hung from a tree outside of her house, where she is left for her parents to discover her body, leading to the first chilling scream as the title comes across the screen.

Sidney is constantly stalked by the killer and becomes an attempted target in her house, but she eventually manages to stop him and take refuge in her room. Time passes and characters develop a little more before the final scene during a house party at Sidney’s schoolmate, Stu’s house. The killer attacks the kids at the party, and Sidney is left alive to confront, who she discovers, are two killers: her boyfriend Billy and his friend Stu. They confess to having raped and killed her mother one year before. Gail comes in and briefly deters the two killers from killing Sidney, but in the end Sidney manages to kill both of them, declaring, as her surviving friend Randy comments, “Be careful, they always come back for one last scare,” and just as Billy sits up surprisingly, Sidney shoots him in the head, and she states, “Not in my movie,” claiming the construction of the Final Girl as a place of productive empowerment for girls and violent defense against women-hating men.

Sidney Prescott (Neve Campbell) in Scream 4

The gaze of Wes Craven’s Scream 4 intrudes on white girls’ domestic spaces. Technology facilitates the killer’s murderous rampage. The killer attempts to terrify them into panic and submission, but they resist this submission to fear such as in the first scene: two girls are alone in a house watching Stab 7 (a thinly veiled, meta-movie franchise with the Scream storyline within the Scream series). One girl goes upstairs because she hears a noise, but then prank calls her friend downstairs with the Ghost Face app on her iPhone. When she goes downstairs after the call is cut short and wanders around the house calling her friend’s name, she gets a call. Assuming her friends’ disappearance is her friend trying to get back at her for scaring her, she assuredly answers the phone, but the killer calls her on her iPhone and tries to scare her into terrified submission by saying, “you’re the dumb blonde with the big tits, whose part is about to be cut,” but she quickly retaliates with “I have a 180 IQ and a 4.0 GPA, asshole.” Of course, in the end, in the Scream tradition of the slasher theme, the killer prevails by stabbing the girl before the title of the film dramatically flashes onto the screen with the Swedish band The Sounds playing in the background. 
Carol Clover theorizes about gender in slasher films in her well-known book Men, Women, and Chainsaws and addresses the concept of masochistic gazing in horror films. Watching these films, though it could be read as sadistic to consume slasher films, are a mascochistic form of “perverse pleasure” through gazing and seeing what “should not” be seen. The audience can identify with the victim in the Scream films and feel the terror that they feel. The camera shows them reacting to the killer’s calls, and the audience sees and hears the same as the victim. So with every suspenseful moment for the character on screen, the audience feels the same emotion of fear. Carol Clover compares the affect of pornography to horror films, saying:

“Pornography thus engages directly (in pleasurable terms) what horror explores at one remove (in painful terms) and legitimate film at two or more.” 

The affect of terror and pleasure, though, seem to also be blurred when thinking about slasher films. Audiences are entertained by the desire to see violence that is unseen. They get a horrific glimpse into the pain inflicted between humans (mostly men killing women), but one productive element of the Scream series presents a productive feminist subversion of these elements of pleasure, pain, humor, and gender. Clover qualifies the commonly found surviving girl at the end of horror films in her essay, “His Body, Himself: Gender in the Slasher Film”:

“The image of a distressed female most likely to linger in memory is the image of the one who did not die: the survivor, or Final Girl.” 

And this position of the final girl in horror films is destabilized in Scream 4, as the final girl and masked killer are the same person. 

Kathleen Rowe Karlyn writes about the feminist potential in the first three Scream films in her book, Unruly Girls, Unrepentant Mothers:

“According to the logic of realism, Scream might well be seen as endorsing violence in the hands of a teen girl. But when viewed in its cinematic context, the film, like the slasher genre in general, provides an opportunity to examine cultural and individual fantasies as they relate to gender and power.” 

The girl violence in the Scream films takes a new direction as Jill takes on the role of the killer and enacts violent murders against mostly white teenage girls, a black man, and her own mother in the film, symbolically, hyperbolically constructing post-feminist girl power gone horribly wrong. Jill’s performs a coy demeanor and unassaultive character at the beginning of the film, which is starkly contrasted after her unveiling to Sidney as the killer in the second to last scene of the film. She asserts her position as the “empowered” female remake of Billy as the killer and Sidney as the victim, saying “I don’t want to be like you. I want to become you,” right before she stabs Sidney, thinking she murders her. Jill then proceeds to stab herself, throw herself onto a glass coffee table (evocative of a scene out of Fight Club) as a way to bodily victimize herself. 

Jill Roberts (Emma Roberts) in Scream 4
J. Jack Halberstam in his article, “Automating Gender: Postmodern Feminism in the Age of the Intelligent Machine,” describes the temptation wrapped up in the symbol of Apple products in relation to the creation myth. Halberstam discusses cybernetics’ relationship to gender and deconstructs the symbol of the Mac apple, and he claims,

“We recognize the Apple computer symbol, I think, as a clever icon for the digitalization of the creation myth [. . . ] The bite now represents the byte of information within a processing memory.” 

He discuses the temptation of biting into the forbidden fruit, which Eve does despite the prohibitions offered by God to her and Adam in Eden. Halberstam relates this Biblical story to the marketing of Apple products with the bitten apple logo on Apple products representing a capitalist seduction of consumer technology and information. Craven takes this concept one step further by having most every character in Scream 4 tote around some Apple product. The Ghost Face killer calls different characters on their iPhones before each murder. The killers use Apple technology to facilitate and capture the murders on film by using webcams to record each murder and post them onto their blog, reconstructing a do-it-yourself remake of the first Scream film within the sequel. The placement of Apple products throughout the film could be read as a synergistic business pursuit by the film makers, and in some ways, people probably were influenced to purchase a new iPhone after seeing this movie. The film also skillfully challenges the obsessive (mis)use of technology, and the Apple products, to use Halberstam’s analysis, symbolize capitalist seduction and female exploitation through violent murders. In “The Scream Trilogy: “Hyperpostmodernism” and the Late Nineties Teen Slasher” by Valerie Wee, she deconstructs the hyperpostmodernism in the Scream films:

“This shift to hyperpostmodernism was motivated by several factors: (1) the development of new media technologies such as cable, video, and an increasing range of digital media; (2) the emergence of a new teen demographic in the United States; and (3) the entertainment industries escalating commitment to cross-media promotional and marketing practices.” 

As Wee argues, the Scream franchise’s insistence on including new media, promotion, and adjusting to the “emergence of a new teen demographic” applies perfectly to Scream 4’s hyperpostmodernism as a next step in the evolution of the series.

L-R: Jill Roberts (Emma Roberts) and Kirby Reed (Hayden Panettiere) in Scream 4

The teenage girls in Scream 4 are constantly on their iPhones in the film and are connected to Ghost Face through their phones. In the first scene of the film, there is a comment made that there is now a Ghost Face app. for the iPhones so anyone can replicate the killer’s voice as a prank call to friends. Female bodies become fused with technology: they become as fused with it as it is their source of survival and simultaneously the killer’s invasion into their white middle-class spaces. Halberstam writes:

“The female cyborg, furthermore, exploits a traditionally masculine fear of the deceptiveness of appearances and calls into question the boundaries of human, animal, and machine precisely where they are most vulnerable — at the site of the female body.” 

Viewers disidentify with Jill and see the violent masochistic pleasure in watching Scream 4. This poses an interesting dilemma of white girl power manifesting in violence and aggression targeted against other white girls, black men, and mothers. Jill symbolizes the ultimate pursuit of individual identity and separation from her community. She manifests her rage and expectant media fame by slaughtering her friends, her mother, and others in her community to escape it. Jill embodies the ideology of post-feminism and exceedingly demonstrates her white neoliberal pursuit of a murderous “girl power” at the violent expense and exploitation of people in Scream 4
———-
Jeremy Cornelius, a queer feminist writer and aspiring women’s and gender studies academic making his way in Philadelphia. Common activities include zine making, obsessively watching b-horror movies on Netflix, dressing like a gay sailor from the 1920s, and writing about queer childhood (to take the phrase from J. Jack Halberstam and Kathryn Bond Stockton) and coming from the U.S. South. Common pen name for zines and social media accounts is Riot Robin because of the Robin (from Batman) tattoo on his left arm.

Weekly Feminist Film Question: Who Is Your Favorite Female Horror Movie Hero?

Women in horror movies comprise a range of roles from homicidal villain and gory murder victim to the badass, resourceful Final Girl survivor. Since next week is Women in Horror Film Week, we thought we would kick things off a little early. (Are you all as excited as we are??) So we asked you to tell us: Who is your favorite female horror movie hero?
——
Ellen Ripley (Sigourney Weaver) in Alien
Jess Bradford (Olivia Hussey) in Black Christmas
Carrie White (Sissy Spacek) in Carrie 

Sarah (Shauna MacDonald) The Descent

Christine Brown (Alison Lohman) in Drag Me to Hell
Ginger Fitzgerald (Katharine Isabelle) and Brigitte Fitzgerald (Emily Perkins) in Ginger Snaps 

Laurie Strode (Jaime Lee Curtis) in Halloween 

Sally (Catherine O’Hara) in Nightmare Before Christmas

Nancy Thompson (Heather Langenkamp) in Nightmare on Elm Street

Angela Vidal (Jennifer Carpenter) in Quarantine
Sidney Prescott (Neve Campbell) in Scream
Clarice Starling (Jodie Foster)  in Silence of the Lambs 

Suzy Banyon (Jessica Harper) in Suspiria 

Selena (Naomie Harris) in 28 Days Later

The Woman (Pollyanna McIntosh) in The Woman
Did your favorite women in horror make the list? Tell us in the comments!
——

Each week we tweet a new question and then post your answers on our site each Friday! To participate, just follow us on Twitter at @BitchFlicks and use the Twitter hashtag #feministfilm.

Bitch Flicks’ Weekly Picks

Amber‘s Picks:
Megan‘s Picks:

Race and The Walking Dead: Why Michonne Matters by Renee and Sparky via Racialicious
Labor of Love: How Women Are Changing Documentaries by Chanda Chevannes via Women and Hollywood

What have you been reading this week? Tell us in the comments!

Weekly Feminist Film Question: What Are Your Favorite Movie Moments Between Women?

While there are a lot of great female-fronted films, there aren’t nearly enough that showcase mothers and daughters, sisters bonding and female friendships. So last week we asked: What are your favorite movie moments between women? Here’s what you told us!

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Beaches — “Most of ‘Beaches’ Barbara Hershey and Bette Midler so good in those roles.”

Bridesmaids — “The competing bridal shower toasts scene between Kristen Wiig and Rose Byrne is ridiculous and hilarious.”

Center Stage — “When Eva (Zoe Saldana) tells Jody and Maureen that she’s no longer dancing for the ballet company’s approval, she’s dancing for herself.”

The Color Purple — “The end when Celie (Whoopi Goldberg) sees her sister for the first in years and meets her children for the first time. Gut-wrenching and heartbreaking.”

Iron Jawed Angels — “Women’s suffrage, female friendships, women banding together fighting for equality…pretty much love the entire movie.”

Kamikaze Girls — “The ending of Kamikaze Girls when Ichiko and Momoko ride off together after defeating the yankis.” 

Mona Lisa Smile — “When all of Julia Roberts’ students ride their bicycles alongside her car. Makes me weep every time.”

Pariah — “Alike’s sister tells her she doesn’t care what her sexual orientation is, she loves her no matter what.”

Princess Mononoke — “Mononoke and Lady Eboshi fighting (up until freaking Ashitaka’s interuptty one-up-manship don’t get me started on Ashitaka).”

Scott Pilgrim vs. the World — “Roxy and Ramona’s fight, Mae Whitman did such a splendid job as her character.”

Sense & Sensibility — “When Elinor confesses to Marianne that she bottles up her emotions.” 

Steel Magnolias — “The end of Steel Magnolias when Clairee & Weezer have a love fight on the bench.”

Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me — “Donna and Laura in Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me. The bar scene, and, later, the ‘are you my best friend?’ scene. Heartbreaking.”

Whip It — “Love when Juliette Lewis tells Ellen Page that she started skating when she was 31 and it took her a long time to find something she was good at and she worked her ass of for it.”

Did your fave movie moments make the list? Tell us in the comments!

——

Each week we tweet a new question and then post your answers on our site each Friday! To participate, just follow us on Twitter at @BitchFlicks and use the Twitter hashtag #feministfilm.

Bitch Flicks’ Weekly Picks

Amber’s Picks:

GOP women contribute importantly to the political landscape — with their looks via About-Face

The Man Who Loved Movies (and Women) Andrew Sarris Honored by MoMA, American Academy of Arts & Letters by Penelope Andrew via HuffPost



Megan’s Picks:

Amy Poehler and Meryl Streep Are Pissed About Attacks on Reproductive Rights by Amanda Marcotte via Slate’s XX Factor

Yes, There Are Fat Women Getting Hollywood Roles…But We Still Treat Them Like Crap by Lindy West via Jezebel

Nashville, and Why All Female Rivalries Aren’t Catfights by Alyssa Rosenberg via ThinkProgress

Middle of Nowhere and the Black Independent Film Movement by Roya Rastegar via The Huffington Post

“Your Women are Oppressed, But Ours Are Awesome”: How Nicholas Kristof and Half the Sky Use Women Against Each Other by Sayantani DasGupta via Racialicious

Women on TV Step Off the Scale by Allessandra Stanley via The New York Times

Could Issa Rae Save the Black Sitcom? by Jason Parham via The Atlantic 

10 Reasons We Won’t Participate in the Lena Dunham Backlash by Emma Gray and Margaret Wheeler Johnson via The Huffington Post

Why Dredd Is Really a Superheroine Movie by Alyssa Rosenberg via ThinkProgress

What have you been reading this week? Tell us in the comments!



Bitch Flicks’ Weekly Picks

Stephanie‘s Picks:

Gaycism and the New Normal: The “Hot” Trend This TV Season Is Bigotry by Nico Lang via In Our Words

Caroline Thomson: BBC Still Has Work to Do on Sexism and Ageism by Emma Barnett via The Telegraph

Presidential Debate Commission Co-Chair Blames TV Networks for Lack of Diversity Among Moderators by Tracie Powell via Poynter

Where the Girls Aren’t: What the Absence of Female Friendships on Network TV Reveals by Sheila Moeschen via Huffington Post

Joss Whedon’s S.H.I.E.L.D Show Will Feature A Lot of Women by Alyssa Rosenberg via ThinkProgress

Women in Film: A Feminist’s Take by Riley Stevenson via Flux Magazine

What Do Feminists Have Left?: The Factuary

“Ugh, What’s Up With All These Feminists Being Funny?” Says Chronically Unfunny Woman by Erin Gloria Ryan via Jezebel

Megan‘s Picks:

Amy Poehler’s Systematic Dismantling of the Emmys by Alex Cranz via FemPop

When Will the Media Start Portraying Black Women Without Betraying Them? by Tracey Ross via Racialicious

Rebel Wilson, Pitch Perfect and Body Acceptance by Kerensa Cadenas via Women and Hollywood

Awkward Black Girl‘s Issa Rae Gets a Sitcom with Shonda Rhimes’ Help by Alex Cranz via FemPop

Funny Women Flourish in Female-Written Comedies by Sandy Cohen via The Boston Globe

The Best Quotes from Tina Fey’s Entertainment Weekly Interview by Kerensa Cadenas via Women and Hollywood

DGA Report Shows Few Strides for Female and Minority TV Directors by Richard Verrier via The Los Angeles Times

Raising Hope Star Martha Plimpton on Politics in Television and The War on Women by Alyssa Rosenberg via ThinkProgress


What have you been reading this week?? Tell us in the comments!