Beth Kattelman
Kathy Bates’s compelling performance as Annie Wilkes in Rob Reiner’s Misery solidified her reputation as a great actress and earned her an Oscar. Her frightening portrayal fixed the image of the “number one fan” in the minds of viewers and ensured that filmgoers would never look at a sledgehammer in the same way again. Annie Wilkes is a fascinating character who can be read in many ways. Stephen King has claimed that she is a metaphor for his addiction to cocaine; she has been analyzed as a female representative of the gothic villain; and feminist critics have noted that she reflects King’s misogyny. There have been few studies, however, that address the inciting factors behind Annie’s actions. She is often dismissed as merely “monstrous” or insane, but that is too simplistic a reading of this fascinating character. I believe a unique perspective on Annie’s psychology and worldview can be gained by reading her as a suppressed, queer, “butch” woman, one whose maltreatment at the hands of society has fostered a deep-seated anger.
The terms “butch” and “femme” originated in the early-twentieth-century lesbian subculture as a way to delineate sexual roles, with the butch as the dominant partner and the femme as the submissive partner. Since then, however, these terms have taken on a broader meaning that is more related to how one performs gender than to whom one sleeps with or what role one takes in bed. In this broader context, I believe that the term “butch” can be useful in explicating Annie Wilkes. (Here I am dealing with the character as portrayed by Kathy Bates in the film, not Lizzy Caplan’s portrayal of Wilkes in the online series Castle Rock.) Even though she is not identified outright as a homosexual, Annie exhibits many of the characteristics that the (patriarchally-influenced) general public associates with butch lesbians: she is ungraceful, brawny, wears comfortable shoes, dresses in dowdy clothes, and has a rather short, austere hairdo. In a word, she is “mannish” and is visually coded as butch. She also performs actions that situate her in the category of a stereotypical butch woman. Not least, she is muscular, as evidenced by when she flings Paul onto her back and totes him up the hill to her car.
Annie hefts Paul over her shoulder after his accident
In addition, she is not at all nervous or squeamish when it comes to dealing with mangled, broken bodies. In fact, she takes great pride in her ability to wrestle Paul’s body back into shape. As she says cheerfully, “Your shoulder was pretty badly dislocated. It was a little stubborn, but I finally popped it back in.” According to the codes established by patriarchal society, Annie is more man than woman, and this unacceptable boundary-crossing makes her a prime target for ridicule and censure.
In Misery Annie Wilkes is visually and aurally coded as mannish from the first instance that Paul sees and hears her. As he slowly regains consciousness, Annie says, “I’m your number one fan.” In this moment, her voice is distorted; the pitch is artificially lowered, making it sound more male than female. The spoken line is also processed with heavy reverb. The low pitch and distortion add a menacing quality 
that establishes Annie as potentially monstrous right from the start. As Paul continues to come out of his fog, the voice slowly shifts into a higher pitch, one that matches Kathy Bates’s regular speaking voice, and then we see Annie enter the frame. She is initially shot from an extremely low angle—mimicking Paul’s perspective—giving her a looming, Godzilla-like quality. The low-angle shot is used to convey Annie’s power, and it also subtly signifies and enhances her monstrousness. One gets a feeling that at any moment she could come smashing down on Paul, something that literally happens later in the film.
As the film progresses, we quickly discover that Annie Wilkes is a lonely character who has little contact with the outside world. She lives in an isolated farmhouse, and there is no indication that she has any family or friends. Apparently, she has cut herself off from others as much as possible, an assumption that is later confirmed by the fact that she does not have a working telephone in her home. In fact, during the course of the film we only see Annie directly interact with three people: a motorist in town who angers her, the sheriff who comes to her house, and, of course, Paul Sheldon. In her initial interactions with Paul and the sheriff, Annie tries her best to seem normal and cheerful, but she is unable to maintain that façade. No matter how hard she tries, eventually her true mental state breaks through, and she unleashes the suppressed rage and violence that is triggered whenever her worldview is challenged or when she feels threatened. It soon becomes clear that Annie suffers from a mental illness, one that several professionals who have examined the character from a psychological perspective have suggested is borderline personality disorder, a pathology that includes an intense fear of abandonment, a pattern of unstable relationships, threats of suicide or self-injury, inappropriate, intense anger, sarcasm, and wide mood swings.[i] Annie Wilkes certainly exhibits all of these behaviors through the course of the film. But was Annie born crazy? Or is there some other reason she has ended up this way? I propose that one possible explanation for Annie’s deep rage is the abuse that she has suffered because she presents as “butch” to the world. Annie’s mannish comportment makes her a target for ridicule and derision—and this lifetime of mistreatment has taken a mental toll on her. As Stephen King himself admits, Annie Wilkes sees herself as, “a beleaguered woman trying to survive in a hostile world filled with cockadoodie brats.”[ii]
Butch/Queer
Annie’s size and lack of grace place her squarely in the category of a “butch” woman. The label is usually applied as a pejorative to females who transgress expected boundaries of gender, and who are thus suspected of being lesbian. The “butch” label signifies that there is something wrong with the individual to whom it is applied. As Jack Halberstam notes in his influential book, Female Masculinity, “Butch is always a misnomer—not male, not female, masculine but not male, female but not feminine, the term serves as a placeholder for the unassimilable, for that which remains indefinable or unspeakable within the many identifications that we make and that we claim.”[iii] Here Halberstam recognizes that, because the butch female does not fit neatly into a recognizable category, they are therefore unacceptable to society. No doubt Annie’s “butchness” has made her a target of derision, and one can imagine the mockery she has had to endure as the inhabitant of a misogynist world which judges women primarily on their looks. Annie has never been thin enough, graceful enough, pretty enough, soft-spoken enough, or polite enough. She is a challenge to gender norms, and therefore she must be censured. The repeated meanness she has encountered—from men, in particular—has sown resentment, and it is this mistreatment that is partly responsible for creating the monster she has become. In fact, Annie occasionally drops hints of her irritation at male mistreatment through the particular language she uses when she chastises Paul, placing him in that universal category of “Man” along with all of the other nameless men in the world who have mistreated, disappointed, or disparaged her, “You’d just better start showing me a little more appreciation around here Mr. Man.”
Of course, it is not just Annie’s fictional world that exhibits meanness toward women. The misogyny that Annie Wilkes suffers bleeds from fiction into reality and is directly demonstrated when critics commenting on the film feel the need include an unflattering physical description of her and, by extension, Kathy Bates. Annie is variously described in reviews as “repulsive,” “overweight,” “fat,” “plain,” and “piggy.” These descriptors are used to emphasize the wrongness of this non-conforming female. Big, bold women are transgressors, who must be chastised, whereas big, bold men are the norm. Contrast the above descriptions of Annie, for example, with those that critics have applied to Howard Stambler, antagonist of the film 10 Cloverfield Lane (2016), played by John Goodman. Howard is often compared to Annie Wilkes because he is a large, threatening figure who holds a young woman captive after he has rescued her from an automobile accident. Checking through reviews for 10 Cloverfield Lane on the Rotten Tomatoes web site, one is hard-pressed, however, to find a description of Howard that is as unflattering as those heaped upon Annie Wilkes. While a few include physical descriptions such as “portly, “overweight, or “middle-aged,” Howard is more often described as “doomsday prepper,” “apocalypse prepper,” or “survivalist,” tags that allude to his actions rather than his looks. He does not face anything close to the condemnation that Annie (and, by extension, Kathy Bates) endures at the hands of film critics.
The inability to live up to societal expectations of femininity and passivity can be a source of shame and a catalyst for deep-seated anger and resentment in women. When women are constantly subjected to unfair double-standards, it takes a toll. Feelings of inadequacy are internalized, thus causing low self-esteem, which can eventually manifest as misplaced aggression. As Soraya Chemaly explains in her book on women’s rage:
Being indignant is a powerful emotional response to insults and to threats against dignity. It is a specific kind of anger rooted in believing that you are being treated unfairly. A precondition for indignation is a secure sense of your worth and an equally strong sense that some valuable standard or norm has been violated. Subjecting someone to indignity involves making a person feel shame or a loss of self-respect. It’s the core of humiliation, embarrassment, and loss of face as well as pride. It is the bleeding edge of dehumanization and violence.[iv]
And violence in breeds violence out. Those who suffer indignity are sometimes destined to pay it forward.
Because butchness is associated with lesbianism, Annie Wilkes has probably also been the target of homophobia on various occasions. Although there is no evidence that Wilkes is homosexual, any masculine presenting woman is automatically suspected of being a “dyke.” But perhaps Annie is a closeted lesbian? Even though her butchness is not proof of homosexuality, there are some other things in Misery that could be read as allusions to Annie’s repressed lesbian tendencies. For example, while Annie does not necessarily exhibit an overt sexual infatuation with Misery Chastain, her passion for the character hints at same-sex desire, as evidenced in the scene in which she confronts Paul for having killed her. In this scene Annie reacts with a disproportionate fury, screaming, “I don’t want her spirit. I want her!” It is clear that Annie has developed an “unnatural” attachment to the character, one that hints at subtle romantic overtones. In her distorted world, Annie conflates Paul and Misery, and she is in love with them both. Her love for Misery, though, came first.
Another element that contains a hint of Annie’s latent homosexuality can be found in her obsession with Liberace, a celebrity whom one reviewer refers to as “every spinster’s impossible dream boyfriend.”[v] In one shot we see a framed photo of Liberace alongside a framed photo of Annie as a young girl, indicating that she considers him a member of the family.
Liberace, a virtuoso piano player, was one of the most flamboyant celebrities of his time; he wore flashy costumes and exhibited feminine mannerisms. Throughout his life, the entertainer vehemently denied that he was homosexual, but eventually, after his death, his sexual preference was confirmed by close friends. Annie’s love of Liberace tangentially aligns her with the homosexual world by raising the specter of a queer icon. I do not mean to suggest here that anyone who likes Liberace, or any other flamboyant celebrity, is homosexual. I merely find it interesting that he is the celebrity that Reiner chose to include in the film. Liberace’s presence in the narrative certainly adds subliminal references to same-sex desire if nothing else. And, as Harry M. Benshoff notes, subtextual or connotative avenues are “perhaps the most important way that homosexuality enters the [horror] genre.”[vi] Whether or not Annie Wilkes is actually homosexual is really beside the point. She is butch in her comportment, and this makes her queer in the eyes of society. This queerness fosters the situation that plays itself out in Misery. Life has not been fair to Annie Wilkes and the unfairness has fostered a deep sense of indignation in her, one that is at the root of her anger and is the catalyst for her rage.
***
One of the most interesting things about films is that they open themselves up to many readings. Stephen King has admitted that Misery is about his battle with substance abuse, and it certainly can be read as a metaphor for that struggle. But Misery can also be seen as an example of how the policing of gender norms, female body shaming, and general misogyny can lead women to internalize anger that might explode in vicious and violent ways. Reading Annie through this lens may not excuse her violent behavior, but it does help to explain it. As a butch woman myself, I understand the anger that results from being ridiculed for the way you dress, move, talk, and take up space in the world. This scrutiny creates palpable resentment that builds up over time. While most of us find more productive ways to release the resulting anger (through writing online essays analyzing the problem, perhaps?), we sympathize with the rage that Annie Wilkes displays. No, butch women are not all insane murderers, but we do have some insight into the inciting factors that have contributed to the creation of this dangerous character. To us, Annie is not an unmitigated monster. She is the frightening, extreme result of a lifetime of hurt and rejection. Annie was not born evil. It is society that has turned her into a raging butch.
[i] “Borderline Personality Disorder.”
[ii] King, 191.
[iii] Halberstam, xx.
[iv] Chemaly, 30.
[v] Rabin.
[vi] Benshoff, 128.
Works Cited:
Benshoff, Harry M. “The Monster and the Homosexual.” The Dread of Difference: Gender and the Horror Film, edited by Barry Keith Grant, University of Texas Press, 2nd edition, 2015, pp. 116-141.
“Borderline Personality Disorder.” Mayo Clinic.
Chemaly, Soraya. Rage Becomes Her: The Power of Women’s Anger. Atria Books, 2018.
Halberstam, Jack. Female Masculinity. Twentieth Anniversary Edition with a New Preface. Duke University Press, 2018.
King, Stephen. On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft. Twentieth Anniversary Edition. Scribner, 2020.
Magistrale, Tony. Stephen King: The Second Decade: Danse Macabre to The Dark Half. Twayne Publishers, 1992.
Misery. Directed by Rob Reiner, Columbia Pictures, 1990.
Munt, Sally R. Butch/Femme: Inside Lesbian Gender. Cassell, 1998.
Rabin, Nathan. “In Misery Kathy Bates Made a Nobody into a Monster.” The Dissolve, 18 Dec. 2014.
