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Showing posts with label insidious. Show all posts
Showing posts with label insidious. Show all posts

Saturday, 15 June 2019

Queer Bodies in Horror: Why Gendered Reveals Are Harmful

[Reader disclaimer: spoilers will be discussed. This piece also contains material of a sensitive nature].


Insidious: Chapter 2 (2013)

Something that has really been playing on my mind lately is a specific horror trope that has been used in films for years and is regarded as one of the most well renowned plot twists in cinema: the gender reveal. You'll undoubtedly know this from films like Psycho (1960) but you may not have ever stopped to wonder why this trope is harmful to the LGBTQ+ community. Not until now, anyway.

The subversion of gender as a trope, sometimes referred to as the "gender bender", is where a film features a character that can be transgender, non-binary or cisgender and the plot twist revolves around their "true" identity being revealed to the audience.

In Silence of the Lambs (1991), Buffalo Bill is described as a "transsexual" and is motivated to murder his female victims under the pretext that he was being rejected for gender reassignment surgery.

In Cassadaga (2011), Christian Burton is berated by his mother for wearing dresses and playing with dolls, and consequently castrates himself, leading him to lead a traumatised adult life wherein he murders women and forms them into real-life marionettes. 

In Insidious: Chapter 2, the ghastly apparition of the Bride in Black (also known as Marilyn) is seen to be raised as a girl and psychologically abused by his mother, then proceeds to castrate himself and later commit suicide. He spends his adult years murdering women in the iconic funeral dress and then haunts the living after his death.

This list could go on (and I'd rather not) but my main point is that we see this trope in a lot of places and don't usually think much of it. Why should we? It's just a plot twist, right?

The Problem with Sleepaway Camp (1983)


Sleepaway Camp (1983)

There is, of course, one particular horror film that is famous for this trope: Sleepaway Camp (1983). What has now solidified itself in modern culture as an iconic film, Sleepaway Camp dons the gender subversion plot twist like a big, shiny medal, revealing at the end that Angela (played by Felissa Rose) is in fact Peter, raised by his "eccentric" (albeit clearly mentally ill) aunt to be a girl. 

The camera pans away, showing Angela standing there stark-naked beside the body of her camp sweetheart, Paul (played by Christopher Collet), wielding a knife, an unnerving expression on her face. She lets out a feral, scratchy sound and, as we move from close-up to wide shot, we see that Angela has a penis.

Arguments have, of course, been made for why this ending is so memorable and unforgivingly creepy. Perhaps it is the juxtaposition of scenery, standing by a tranquil lake late at night, lulling the audience into a false sense of security before bludgeoning them over the head with the truth. Perhaps it's the frozen expression on her face, somewhere between childlike euphoria and murderous intent. Perhaps, as some people on Reddit pointed out, it's the uncanny valley effect that is given when shots of Felissa Rose are interchanged with the body double wearing an unnervingly realistic mask of the actress. Or perhaps it's a combination of all three.

I've read articles that claim that the penis reveal is not what makes this ending shocking. Some critics claim it's the reveal that Angela (who is Peter) has been assuming the identity of her dead sister the entire time, or that the trauma that they experienced (seeing their loved ones killed but also the addition of seeing their supposedly depraved father in bed with another man) is what lead Angela on her murderous rampage within the camp.

But I disagree with this entirely because you can tell that the film wants you to go "oh my god, she's a boy!" which, incidentally, is an actual quote from the end of Sleepaway Camp. No, there are a couple reasons as to why the ending of this film is so disturbing, but not for the reasons you often see discussed online.

Cassadaga (2011)

Firstly, Angela's character is 14 years old. The fact that they objectify her at the end by showing off her prepubescent body and genitals is not only alarmingly perverse but begs the question as to why more people haven't spoken out about it. 

As a queer person over the age of 20, I felt repulsed to be acting as the observer, and yet I have not seen other critics point this out. This might be due to the fact that the majority of them are cisgender men who see no apparent reason to see this as a cause for concern, but the age thing is definitely creepy, no matter which perspective you take.

Secondly, I fail to understand what response the film wanted me to have. Was I meant to be afraid? Disgusted? Creeped out? Angela's character undergoes trauma at the hands of Mary Ann (played by Alyson Mord) when she accidentally murders Angela's family and has her identity forcibly removed by her aunt Martha (played by Desiree Gould) before she even gets to the damn camp. At this point, I can't help but sympathise with the character, which I doubt was the film's intention for me as a viewer. 

You might now argue that I'm justifying Angela's murder spree. I'm not entirely, but when you consider that Angela is already experiencing some kind of psychosis at the hands of the women in her life, plus the fact that most of the victims had it coming to them (a long slew of paedophiles, antagonising bullies, misogynists and sexual aggressors), you can at least understand why she did it.

The motivations for the murders are rooted in revenge, not the fact that she's biologically male or has a supposed bloodlust for the campers due to internal, psychological trauma. And that makes far more sense as an explanation, rather than a shot at the end with her penis out. 

Gender Identity ≠ Murderer


Silence of the Lambs (1991)

Therein lies the main issue: using gender identity as a reveal doesn't really work when you look at it on a basic level. Showing that a character like Angela had different genitals the whole time or insinuating that gender identity is in any way inherently linked to murderous intent/mental instability is incredibly harmful to people within the LGBTQ+ community, whether they be transgender or other variations of identity (e.g. genderfluid, intersex, agender). 

These tropes perpetuate the stereotype that trans individuals are in some way depraved, made wrong or fuelled by their own dysphoria (as we see with Buffalo Bill and Christian Burton) to kill. Yes, if we look at context, Sleepaway Camp was not considerate of this, nor would I expect it to be. But we've seen this trope as recently as this year with Glass (2019), in which James McAvoy's character has seven, differing female counterparts as a result of having DID and he dresses up in feminine clothing to accommodate for the personalities' gender. Why was that needed to get the point across?

To put it bluntly, there is nothing horrifying or scandalous about the gender subversion trope. It's a cheap tactic at the expense of our community and doesn't really do anything for shock factor when you consider that gender identity is not intrinsically linked to psychopathy or other known traits of serial killers. 

Hey, you can have trans villains, just don't make them villains because they're trans. 

- K

Saturday, 27 April 2019

The Struggles of Horror Movie Fatigue

Film fads have a sell-by-date and, like every other form of media, we grow tired of them if they're exceeded. Depending on your genre, this can often be referred to as "x fatigue": in simple terms, the state in which a genre is repeatedly beating a dead horse.

Jeremy Jahns, a YouTuber film critic who I wholeheartedly admire, recently reviewed The Curse of La Llorona (2019) and claimed that we may indeed be suffering from "horror fatigue" with this era of horror we are currently experiencing.

The Occult cycle

As with many film fads, they tend to circulate every decade or so in different forms. When I refer to the occult cycle, I mean specifically the time where horror movies sprung up in the late 60s to the early 80s, horror movies we love and respect in this day and age such as Rosemary's Baby (1968), The Exorcist (1973), The Omen (1976) and The Amityville Horror (1979). 

Cycles come and go. After the occult cycle, we had the era of 'torture porn', pioneered by directors such as James Wan with Saw (2004) and Eli Roth with Hostel (2005): we charter through these gore-infested waters every few years or so because audiences grow tired of seeing the same thing over and over again, especially if the quality of such starts slipping.

The Exorcist (1973)

There are (in my opinion) two/three types of fans:

1) The franchise fanboys. These fans are ride or die for their favourite film series, whether it be Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings, Fast and Furious, Final Destination etc etc. They will go and see these films regardless of whether they are good or not and they are the ones that make studios a lot of money. I suppose a contemporary example of such would be Marvel who, despite releasing some films that bombed (I use that term loosely) at the box office like Thor: The Dark World (2013), will always bring fans in.

2) The horror purists. This kind of fan is at the other end of the audience spectrum, increasingly difficult to please by today's standards of film making. They flock to arthouse, abstract and innovative horror, often casting their net further than the Western region of the world. 

3) The indifferent. I feel as though this is the category I fit into: I love horror that challenges the lazy formula we've fallen into in recent years but I also appreciate and enjoy franchises. I think both can co-exist, as long as people understand that franchises and innovative horror can be enjoyed separately. 

The current cycle

So, how is our current cycle relevant to this discussion? Well, what the horror genre is currently experiencing can arguably be described as a resurgence of the 70s/80s occult cycle, popularised back in the late noughties by Dead Silence (2007). Similarly to the superhero genre, horror revamped the way we look at the supernatural, paying more attention to jump scares, gothic elements and a rebranding of 'the big baddie'.

Think of the horror films from 2010 to 2013 and how iconic their villains are: Bughuul from Sinister (2012), the Lipstick-Face demon from the Insidious (2010-2018) franchise, the various items from The Conjuring (2013). All of these films were easily marketed because of their distinctive villain but they also preyed on the audience's insecurities, from demonic child possession to vengeful ghosts, aspects prevalent in the occult cycle.

The Conjuring (2013)

The Conjuring was definitely (in my opinion) the catalyst for the new occult movement: raking in $41m in its opening weekend, this film became a modern classic for many horror fans, making Wan's most popular film since Insidious. The occult cycle then took a breather for a couple of years until Wan returned in 2016 for a sequel, which many praised as being surprisingly better than the first.

Horror movie fatigue

Therein lies the issue. After the release of The Conjuring 2 (2016), everybody jumped on the bandwagon. Studios noted Wan's success and wanted to replicate that tenfold in order to increase profits, thus began the endless shit-stream of films that tried to hash the occult cycle formula out without paying any real attention to what made those films good in the first place: from what I can gather, it looks as though the studios thought if they created an iconic baddie and slapped it on the posters, then people would flock to the cinemas to see it.

And they did. The Nun (2018), regarded by critics as a complete flop and disservice to the Conjuring franchise, still managed to be the franchise's best opening weekend with $52m. But it became clear very quickly that either people loved The Nun because it's a franchise film or completely hated it due to the fact that it's...well, it's bad. 

Kevin Maher from The Times commented that "the scares are non-existent" and that "being pulled backwards along the floor in a darkened room hasn't been scary since Insidious in 2010". The Nun is a lot of cheap tactics and poorly performed dialogue wrapped up with a fantastically scary mascot on top, but people still saw it, because that's the only thing the mainstream industry want to offer at the moment.

The Nun (2018)

2016 ushered in the era of horror flops. After the success that Wan had brought in, the cash-grab for the occult cycle began, leading to films like Ouija: Origin of Evil (2016), Friend Request (2016), Annabelle: Creation (2017), Veronica (2017), Slender Man (2018) and recently with The Curse of La Llorona (2019). 

All of these films are somewhat commercially successful but that's purely due to the franchise fanboys. In essence, these films reflect lazy writing, cheap jumpscares, abhorrent use of sfx and a damning lack of forethought. They rely on fanbases to carry them because, at the end of the day, they're bad movies. Not just bad horror movies, but bad movies. 

Moving forward

What grinds my gears about horror movie fatigue is that people then refrain from seeking out horror as much, as if to suggest that there aren't any good horrors currently milling about in the cinesphere. I think of films like The Nun and then glance over lovingly at my copies of Get Out (2017) and Hereditary (2018) and wonder why people can't create movies with the same passion and care as Jordan Peele or Ari Aster. 

"Yeah but those kind of indie, socio-political horror films don't make money!" 

Absolute shite, my good sir. Get Out scored $33m and Hereditary had $13m to their names in the opening weekends: sure, that's not as much as films like The Conjuring but these films now have large followings because a) they know that those respective movies are examples of exemplary horror and b) they know they won't turn into cash-grab franchises. 

Insidious (2010)

Let's put it this way: Get Out performed well for an opening weekend but Peele's second film, Us (2019), more than doubled that on its opening weekend with $71m, making it the third-biggest R-rated horror opening of all time. And he didn't achieve that through tacky gimmicks: he did that by putting care and effort into his films, demonstrated by Get Out only a few years prior.

I'll end on a piece of unsolicited advice. Money makes the world go round, sure, but your franchise will die a sad death if that's your only motivation. It seems as if today's directors have forgotten what happened to 80s horror once they tried to pile up sequels: go and watch Hellraiser: Revelations (2011) and then get back to me.

- K