I frequently reflect upon how certain cataclysmic historical events permeate our popular culture. Since the turn of the century, the most notable American historic events have included 9-11, the subsequent wars, Anthrax, hurricane Katrina, the rise of social media, and recession. As someone who loves horror films and who tirelessly tries to understand the American family, this article investigates how post 9-11 issues are reflected through the family in horror films. I chose to primarily focus on the Bush presidency years because it spans most of the first decade of the century.[i] Those years also witnessed a series of notable unfortunate events that undoubtedly reverberated through our culture through the end of the decade. I argue that in the first decade of the 21st century there was a rise in family horror films that surpasses previous decades. More interestingly, there was a surge in child antagonists who presented as more innately evil than ever before.[ii]The events after September 11th, 2001 undoubtedly impacted the way we view our homes and our children.
To say that I’m a sucker for a well-crafted, classic horror tale brimming with salaciousness would be an understatement. And so it was with more than a little glee that I read about Turner Classic Movie’s month long film series devoted to tackling those films which made the Legion of Decency’s hair stand on end. I’ve written about American horror during this time period and I’ve always wanted to compile a short list of recommended pre-code American horror films as a complement. So here is my list of 6 essential films that will give you a taste of what horror was like pre-code. With everything from a killer with a fondness for meat suits to maniacal scientists hell bent on playing God, these films are a showcase for the cinematic perversions that left many audience members clutching their pearls.
There seems to be an emergent mini sub-genre of films about couples who head into the woods for some quality time—about to get married or just married—and then very bad things happen. I’m thinking in particular of Eden Lake (2008), Willow Creek (2013), and Backcountry (2014)—all great films, and two of which I’ve written about here. I just discovered another addition to the canon, Leigh Janiak’s Honeymoon (2014), that’s streaming on Netflix and I definitely recommend you watch it. It’s worth pointing out (since women directors of horror are still relatively rare) that Janiak is a woman. She also wrote the screenplay, along with Phil Graziadei.
The recently and (for now) happily-married couple of Honeymoon, Bea (Rose Leslie) and Paul (Harry Treadaway), are heading on a delayed honeymoon to a cottage in the woods where Bea grew up. Things go swimmingly until Paul wakes up one night to find that Bea is gone. He eventually finds her (in a highly creepy moment) standing in the woods, in a state of dazed virtual unconsciousness (think Micah and Katie in Paranormal Activity, although worse since Bea and Paul are deep in the woods, not on a suburban patio). The couple writes the strange event off to sleepwalking—albeit with a hefty dose of anxious self-deception, since Bea has never walked in her sleep before.
I’m always interested in what horror looks like and what it means at any particular moment—what it says about anxieties brewing in the larger culture, and it’s in that spirit that I want to point out an interesting refrain through several high-profile horror films of the 1970s: Duel (Steven Spielberg, 1971), The Stepford Wives (Brian Forbes, 1975), Jaws (Spielberg, 1975), and Halloween (John Carpenter, 1975).
In The Stepford Wives, the protagonist Joanna Eberhart (Katharine Ross) moves to Stepford, Connecticut, where she soon notices women are, well, different—obsessed with cleaning their houses, for one thing. Joanna is a photographer: she’s intelligent, ambitious, and curious, and so much of the film involves her looking—the camera dwelling on her very human stare, as she tries to figure out what’s going on in her town. Joanna’s encounter with the “monster” at the end of the film is all the more horrifying, then, because what Joanna finally sees is her own robotic double—and as she looks in horror, her lifeless twin looks back with empty, soulless, black eyes. Joanna will soon become this “thing,” killed by the men in the town who sacrifice real women for inanimate, submissive machines.
As Women In Horror Month draws to an end, I wanted to bookend our discussion of the final girl with the character who, I feel, best depicts forward momentum. In order to see a clear trajectory I had to reflect upon Dawn’s discussion of Carol Clover and subsequently consider the criticisms mentioned by others such as BJ Colangelo and noted scholar Isabel Cristina Pinedo. [i] I agree that there are problematic components embedded within the final girl, much of which has to do with the assumption of male spectatorship. Nonetheless, I feel that there are positive representations of womanhood in recent horror film. Most notably, is the character Sarah Logan (played by Anne Ramsay) in The Taking of Deborah Logan (2014).
Sarah Logan is the last woman standing. Granted, The Taking of Deborah Logan is not a slasher, and Sarah Logan is not your stereotypical final girl. Regardless, Sarah Logan is the survivor: she meets the killer, takes it on, and defeats it (or so we hope). This is as far as Sarah Logan follows the formula Carol Clover laid out for the final girl. Sarah is a lesbian in a relationship who has temporarily left her lover in order to care for her ailing mother. What I love most about Sarah is that she is a realistic representation of womanhood. She is vulnerable; we see her struggle, trying to make financial ends meet while balancing her relationship with the nebulous task of managing her mother’s Alzheimer’s. Sarah is flawed, she is scared, uncertain, she drinks to manage her stress, and she sometimes needs help from others. Read more