Irreversible – Bitch Flicks

Rape Revenge Fantasies: The Roundup

Check out all of the posts for Rape Revenge Fantasies Theme Week here.

Revenge Is a Dish Best Served…Not at All? by Angelina Rodriguez

Tarantino’s Kill Bill narrative requires The Bride to murder her rapist and to defend herself with some of the masculine characteristics that are used as institutionalized power to oppress women, such as physical strength and aggression. The film insists that she seek revenge, instead of demanding that men simply do not rape. This is barely better than teaching rape avoidance. It dictates that women must assimilate to a male culture of violence in order to have autonomy over their own bodies.

Irreversible: Deconstructing Rape Revenge by Max Thornton

Irreversible deconstructs the ethically dubious pleasures of the rape revenge genre through its structure as well as its plot. Its reverse chronology inverts the formula of rape-then-revenge, thereby robbing the viewer of any sense, however questionable, of justice done, and subverting the whole economy of violence.

“I’ll Make You Feel Like You’ve Never Felt Before”: Jennifer’s Power in I Spit on Your Grave Sophie Besl

No movies ever had to justify a cowboy going on a rogue revenge kick after his log cabin was burned to the ground or his family was killed; certain sufferings of injury, murder of loved ones, robbery, etc., have been accepted throughout cinematic history to merit revenge at all costs. I Spit on Your Grave was a large part of a relatively new phenomenon, possibly born out of the feminist movement, to add rape—based on the woman’s experience of rape, whether validated by law or not—to that list of worthy harms, which is an important statement in our rape culture.

When Biopics Go Awry: Bandit Queen As Rape Revenge by Colleen Lutz Clemens

When considering female agents of violence in a film, there is a troublesome tendency that plays to the audience’s anxiety about a women disrupting the essentialist notion that women are naturally gentle and nurturing: the tendency to have the woman acting in response to sexual violence, that only after a woman is overpowered and assaulted can she find a place of violence in her. Once the naturalness of a woman is disrupted by an outside force—a (usually male) perpetrator—she is no longer required to be viewed as “womanly.”

The Fractured Rape/Revenge Fantasies of Julie Taymor’s Titus by Rebecca Willoughby

Julie Taymor’s contemporary approach to creating a film of Titus Andronicus then, has to address a variety of factors: 1) she has set up for herself the challenge of filming a Shakespeare play that has been called both an “early masterpiece” and an “Elizabethan pot-boiler”; 2) she’s a female director approaching a play that has, at its center, a ritual killing, a rape, and revenge cannibalism; and 3) she’s creating this piece of art during a historical moment during which entertainment media is rife with violence and there much alleged desensitization, as well as within a culture full of complex and problematic attitudes about rape.

Women As Perpetrators of Violence in Freeway by Ren Jender

In films, as in life, women aren’t supposed to be violent. Women make up the majority of violent crime victims (domestic violence, assault, rape, and murder) but they rarely retaliate in kind. Even in the relatively rare film where a woman seriously injures or kills a rapist, like Thelma and Louise she does so with lots of tears and anguish–in that film both from the woman pulling the trigger and the one who the man attempted to rape. The unwritten rule in movies seems to be that in order to justify a woman killing or even assaulting someone, we need to see her or some other woman suffer, a lot, beforehand. Contrast that rule with the male heroes of action films who leave dozens of corpses in their wake, and not one of the dead, usually, has raped or otherwise tortured the hero beforehand–though the hero may be avenging some great wrong the dead guy (or guys) did to his wife or daughter.

Cowboy Justice: Rape Revenge in Mainstream Cinema and TV by Morgan Faust

So maybe what had looked like a trend toward marginalizing rape survivors was actually a move toward bringing them into the fold of the American action hero? This is a move that discloses a terrible truth about the handling of rape cases in our legal system, but can be viewed as a genuine attempt to find a way to make the cowboy narrative, and the catharsis that comes with it, available and relevant to survivors of rape.

What Shakespeare Can Teach Us About Rape Culture by Leigh Kolb

In Titus Andronicus, Lavinia is brutally raped and disfigured (including having her tongue cut out so she couldn’t speak). This nod to Philomela in Ovid’s Metamorphoses echoes the themes of the brutality of rape and the need for revenge. The women needed to name their rapists and share their stories (Lavinia writes in the sand; Philomela weaves a tapestry that tells her story). The women have as much power as they can in the confines of their society, and we the audience are meant to want justice and revenge.

On Milk-Bones, Toothed Vaginas, and Adolescence: Teeth as a Cautionary Tale by Colleen Lutz Clemens

But when Dawn learns that Ryan has bedded her as part of a bet while he is still inside of her, Dawn’s evolutionary adaptation intercedes and Ryan is punished for his use and abuse of Dawn. So now two trusted boyfriends and a doctor have initiated Dawn into the world of oppressive sex and violence, and all three times her vagina—the thing that has left her most vulnerable—has acted as a protector.

The “Rape Turns Ladies Into Superheroes!” Trope by Melissa McEwan

More than being shitty to watch, it just pissed me off to 10 because I hate with the fiery passion of 10,000 suns the ubiquitous trope that surviving sexual violence (or attempted sexual violence) turns women into superheroes.

Trespassed Lands, Transgressed Bodies: Horror, Rage, Rape, and Vengeance Within Indigenous Cinema by Ariel Smith

By forcing the subconscious fears of audiences to the surface, horror cinema evokes reactions psychologically and physically–that is its power. This power can serve and support uncensored Indigenous expression by allowing Indigenous filmmakers the opportunity to unleash dark, unsanitized allegorical representations of the abhorrent, repugnant, violent abomination that is colonization.

Rape, Lies, and Gossip on Gossip Girl by Scarlett Harris

Her banishment by Blair when she finds out what transpired between Jenny and her on-again, off-again lover is typical of the punish-the-woman mentality Gossip Girl is so fond of. Instead of shaming her partner for taking advantage of a teenage girl, Blair blames Jenny for ruining her proposal. And when Jenny returns the following season to help Chuck take down Blair (keep up, people!), she should really be seeking revenge on her rapist, wouldn’t you say?

Girl Gang Fights Rape Culture in Firefox by Elizabeth Kiy

Though very different, the two films based on Joyce Carol Oates’ novel, Foxfire: Confessions of A Girl Gang, have a shared message: that rape culture is pervasive. and the experiences of girls and women within it are sadly, universal. In both films, one set in the 90s, the other in the 50s, teenage girls inhabit dangerous territory, full of sexual assaults and near misses, all ignored by the authorities around them. Their experiences aren’t considered unusual or justified within their respective narratives, instead, they point out that women are given a lot of reasons to feel unsafe and afraid in our society. At the very least, we’ve all been told not to walk home at night or frightened by a man following too close on our heels.

Agency and Gendered Violence in Thelma and Louise by Jenny Lapekas

These characters challenge our gendered assumptions about sex, trauma, and vengeance, which can make audiences uncomfortable. I was likely too young when I first watched Thelma and Louise (Ridley Scott, 1991). However, I remember the surge of adrenaline I felt when Louise shot and killed Thelma’s rapist, how incredibly good it felt to idolize these convict women who had had enough with their monotonous lives, at an age when I couldn’t possibly comprehend patriarchal oppression, the comforts of solidarity and sisterhood, or the concept of escapism utilized not necessarily to run away but rather to find your wildest, most genuine self.

‘Irreversible’: Deconstructing Rape Revenge

‘Irreversible’ deconstructs the ethically dubious pleasures of the rape revenge genre through its structure as well as its plot. Its reverse chronology inverts the formula of rape-then-revenge, thereby robbing the viewer of any sense, however questionable, of justice done, and subverting the whole economy of violence.

Written by Max Thornton as part of our theme week on Rape Revenge Fantasies.

This piece contains spoilers.

Confession: I didn’t actually rewatch Irreversible before writing this piece. Back in 2007, it was included in an A.V. Club article on “24 Great Films Too Painful To Watch Twice,” and if I was ever going to try to prove that piece wrong, it certainly wouldn’t be during the most important week in my religion’s calendar. (Rape revenge movies are kind of the antithesis of Jesus in basically every respect.)

But I feel no real need to rewatch this movie, because one viewing is all it took to sear it into my memory. Gaspar Noé’s second feature is a technically superb film, with a hook that would snag any cinephile: it happens backwards, with the scenes occurring in reverse chronological order. Like any rape revenge movie, this is a nasty, brutal film, telling a nasty, brutal story – and it does so deliberately, brilliantly, and harrowingly.

It’s probably fair to say that most rape revenge films have a female character doing the revenge part, whether it’s the rape survivor herself (as in I Spit on Your Grave) or her friend/relative (as in Last House on the Left), which makes the questions of morality, agency, message, and point of identification extremely complex (and no doubt my esteemed colleagues will have some incisive comments about this as the week goes on). There are elements of wish-fulfillment in the rape survivor’s violent vengeance – Carol J. Clover’s Men, Women, and Chainsaws is, of course, the classic text on the gendered complexities of viewer identification in films of this kind – and this entails all the moral quandaries of any grim fantasy: is it catharsis or titillation? Empowerment or exploitation?

In Irreversible, though, there’s no question of empowerment or catharsis, because here it’s a man who does the revenge as well as a man who does the rape. Monica Bellucci, as the film’s ostensible protagonist, doesn’t actually get to do a whole lot apart from get horrendously assaulted and viciously beaten. Her partner’s bloody revenge isn’t cathartic or gratifying for the viewer at all, not only because it’s not carried out by the survivor of the rape (nor, it turns out, against the actual rapist), but also because we see it before we see the rape.

From now on, I'm just going to use pictures of kittens and puppies who are friends, to try to mitigate the horribleness of what I am talking about. Source — From now on, I’m just going to use pictures of kittens and puppies who are friends, to try to mitigate the horribleness of what I am talking about. Source

In this way, Irreversible deconstructs the ethically dubious pleasures of the rape revenge genre through its structure as well as its plot. Its reverse chronology inverts the formula of rape-then-revenge, thereby robbing the viewer of any sense, however questionable, of justice done, and subverting the whole economy of violence.

To drive this point home, the vengeance takes place in a male gay bar, underscoring the total absence of female agency in this story. Men have all the agency here, and everything they do is awful. Women qua humans are irrelevant to the characters and the actions they take, whether those actions are nominally on behalf of them or against them.

Unfortunately, the final scene unintentionally reinforces the very dehumanization of women that the rest of the film so trenchantly unveils. The revelation that Bellucci’s character is pregnant serves only as a cheap additional twist of the knife, making her even more of a cipher by essentializing her to an incubator. It’s unnecessary, and only there to make an already devastatingly nasty film even more devastating. It’s a bit of emotional manipulation that weakens my ability to perform a feminist reading of the film, because it doesn’t let the awful violations of the protagonist be awful just because she’s, you know, a human being. Suddenly they’re extra awful because she had a BABBY inside her, and now her value as baby-maker/incubator is diminished. For the most part, Irreversible is deliberately grueling and horrible as an attempt to convey some of the true awfulness of a rape victim’s experience, but the choice to end the film on this moment seems to send the message that it was especially bad for both Bellucci and her partner because they were about to be a happy heteronormative family, which would have enabled her to find true fulfillment as a woman!!1

Despite this regrettable choice of ending, Irreversible is a valuable deconstruction of rape-revenge tropes. It’s an excruciating experience, but a crucial one for anybody interested in cinematic portrayals of sexual violence.

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Max Thornton blogs at Gay Christian Geek, tumbles as trans substantial, and is slowly learning to twitter at @RainicornMax.

Seed & Spark: Rape as a MacGuffin: The Hollywood Cop Out

But why are stories of female characters taking aggressive or assertive stances allowed to happen only after they have been victimized? In men’s revenge stories, oftentimes a woman has been killed off and he sets out to even the score. In a female revenge story, more often than not she has been assaulted and wants to get even. In both cases, women are victimized and the female body is used to move the narrative forward.

This is a guest post by Mara Gasbarro Tasker.

MacGuffin: an object or device in a movie or a book that serves merely as a trigger for the plot.

Everyone loves a revenge story. Yet no one mentions the disturbing trend–in both television and film–of victimizing women to kick start the narrative. From modern procedurals like SVU, to older films such as I Spit on your Grave or newer films like Irreversible, women are repeatedly given the Hollywood shaft. I won’t reference SVU much beyond this because I can hardly stomach the show given that every episode I’ve seen features an opening that is 10 minutes of female sexual victimization. Now think of all of the revenge films you have seen in your life. Starring men or women. Think back to what starts the story. A disturbing number of them begin with rape. They use brutal violence against women to get the ball rolling. Let’s look at a few examples.

In both the 1978 version and the 2010 remake of I Spit on your Grave, our young, beautiful and somewhat reclusive female protagonist leaves her worries behind for a summer to focus on writing. But not long before she arrives in her hideaway cabin, she is brutally, violently, and sadistically gang raped in the woods and her rental home. Later in the film she comes back for revenge. But her motive and her actions for the rest of the narrative are all defined by that senseless assault.

In the case of Abel Ferrara’s 1981 B-movie hit Ms. 45, Thana, a mute and beautiful young seamstress is raped on her walk home. Unable to scream, it hardly seems to happen. When she gets home, however, a second intruder breaks into her house and has his way with her. It was a tough day for Thana. These are both “B-Movies” and yes, there is a tendency in this kind of film to exploit violence. But before we write off this brutality to just one less-prevalent genre, let’s look at mainstream cinema.

American Psycho. Patrick Bateman is the world’s weirdest man. A total power player, a stud, a dick. He lures women in and takes pleasure, on screen, in killing them. The infamous chainsaw scene comes to mind. Bateman commits one murder in his bed before spending the next few minutes chasing a second prostitute to her death. It’s an extreme example, but this act of casual violence against women happens again in other forms and its effect is the same. As another example, Gaspar Noe’s powerful film, Irreversible, sets violence into motion from minute one. While it’s led by a male character and mostly affects a male population in the film, we later see that the center of the tale, the very object that put all of this aggression into motion, is the brutal, hate-filled rape of his girlfriend. This film features a male lead on a revenge quest, but it all hinges entirely on the abuse of a woman. We could go on–films like The Skin I Live In and remakes such as Last House on the Left and The Evil Dead all perpetuate the practice of using brutality as a narrative tool.

Rather than harp on the fact that sexual abuse is used frequently in film, let’s pay closer attention to how it’s used. I Spit on your Grave and Ms. 45 are ultimately female revenge stories that feel satisfying, but it’s only after brutal and forced, criminal sexual assaults that these women come into their power and their own violence. The abuse at the start of the story is what sets their lives on screen into motion. I know I was not alone in thinking hell yes! when these women struck back. But why are stories of female characters taking aggressive or assertive stances allowed to happen only after they have been victimized? In men’s revenge stories, oftentimes a woman has been killed off and he sets out to even the score. In a female revenge story, more often than not she has been assaulted and wants to get even. In both cases, women are victimized and the female body is used to move the narrative forward.

Men can seek revenge. Men can become monsters. Walter White can justify his actions because it was driven by the need to earn money for his family in Breaking Bad. Travis Bickle can become a sadistic psychopath in Taxi Driver without being forced into it by trauma. Patrick Bateman can kill for the pleasure of it. Men are given the freedom in film to seek revenge for any perceived slight. But women are only granted that unadulterated kind of freedom, that get-out-of-jail-free card, if they have first been victimized. How many films feature women being assertive or dangerous who don’t have their bodies forcibly violated first?

Storytelling has a responsibility. To the men and women writing any form of media, if it isn’t absolutely necessary to tell a truthful story, I challenge you to find a different reason to seek revenge. Look for a better technique to get your characters moving. Find a better reason for the action to start. Rape is not excusable. If we don’t want to normalize violence against women, we must be smart about what we normalize on screen. When teenage girls sit down at the movies or on their own couches, they’re quietly–if not openly–reminded that they are the “weaker” sex and can be taken and brutalized with ease. It may bring out some interesting male characters, but it comes at the cost of a woman’s body. Rape is not, and should not be, a MacGuffin. Let’s tell a better story.

Mara Gasbarro Tasker is a filmmaker based in Los Angeles. She’s currently working as an Associate Producer at Vice Media and has co-created the Chattanooga Film Festival, launching later this spring. She holds a BFA in Film Production from the University of Colorado at Boulder. She is directing a grindhouse short in April and is still mourning the end of Breaking Bad.