Sam Talks Movies

Natural Born Killers follow the infamous serial killing lovers, Mickey and Mallory, as they go down Route 666, claiming new victims every week. The film is really another Bonnie and Clyde story but with way more gore critique the media’s romanticization and glorification of serial killers.

During the sitcom scene, the audience is introduced to the horrors of Mallory’s life prior to being with Mickey. It’s heavily implied that her father rapes her and mistreats her, and her mother, who is aware of this, is silent towards these actions. Not to mention, the sound is this scene is the classic I Love Lucy laugh track and ditzy music, creating a contrapuntal sound. The sound, nor mise en scene, matches the scenes narrative. This could be a critique of how domestic abuse and sexual assault is often overlooked in our society in a passive manner. It could also be a critique of shows like The Honeymooners where the Kramden’s did not have a healthy, often ending in Ralph threatening Alice, but this was displayed as normal or funny.

“If You Were the Woman and I Was the Man” acts a non-diegetic sound during Mickey and Mallory’s makeshift wedding. The characters don’t know that the song is playing, but during their vows, the song mimics the effects of a song used during a first dance. The scene is very romantic because the only visuals present are Mickey and Mallory as it is them against the world, but that romance quickly shatters as a group of hooligans drives by, yelling at them. The moment makes a comedic comeback as the music begins to play again and the romance resumes.

To circle back to the sitcom scene, the use of parallel sound in this scene gives this level of “metaness” as Mickey and Mallory romanticize their meeting for the first time. Parallel sounds exist to compliment the atmosphere of the scene, and the lovey-dovey sounds that fawn over the lovebirds add to the immediate lust and love at first sight moment that Mickey and Mallory have. This can also be seen as a critique of overarching theme of allowing the wrong type of people to gain exposure and influence societal wants. The audience that fawns over the couple is representation or a mockery of the audience that is also experiencing those emotions in real time, despite already being exposed to the damage and harm that couple can do. They have become sensationalized, and despite being the epitome of the effects of something like the social learning, they are put on a pedstal as if they were beloved sitcom characters.

In this scene where Mickey returns with Mallory to kill her father and mother, there is a perfect use of asynchronous sound. During the beginning of the scene, the audience is shown Mallory’s dad watching a wrestling match, but when Mickey barges into the house, the T.V. is no longer shown. The sound is still audible in the background, but the source is no longer visible. As the wrestling matches ensues, the bell rings, indicating the start of a brawl. It’s at this moment that Mickey strikes Mallory’s father with the first blow of his crowbar, and the on-screen fight mimics the off-screen fight.

During the riot/escape scene, the sound perspective and dialogue is fantastic. Mickey, Mallory, Wayne, and the rest of the gang shelter in a room that is shielded from the riots that recently broke out in the prison, but the sounds of prisoners fighting and shouting keeps the audience in the moment and proposes the sword of Damocles threat, looming over theirs and audience’s heads. While the dialogue of the main cast is audible, the riot’s sound off-screen drowns them out from time to time, getting at the bigger and more dangerous picture at large. It’s threatening yet realistic.

Oh to be in Darren Aronofsky’s sick and twisted, little mind. The purpose of Aronofsky “hip-hop” style of editing in Requiem for a Dream is to consume and forcibly invite the audience into addictive personalities of the four central protagonists. The editing in the beginning is equally paced and distributes shots nicely, but by the end of the film, the editing is rushed and face paced to portray the self-destructive nature of the characters after they keep sinking to the bottom of their crisis.

Whenever the red dress is pictured, spliced, or edited into a scene, it is meant to represent the unachievable happiness that the characters continually chase after in this film. This is a prime example of a tonal montage, where shots are edited together to create an overall emotional atmosphere in creating the series of shots or scenes. Every time the red dress is shown or mentioned is meant to evoke this melancholy feeling that the audience roots for these characters to get better, but deep down, they know it is just a fantasy. This is especially true with the relationship between Sara and Harry, as Sara uses the red dress as a symbol of the life and relationship she used to have with her and how desperately she wants it back.

Despite Harry and Marion verbally displaying their love for each other, this scene that uses disjunctive editing would prove otherwise. In the first proper introduction of the film’s primary romantic couple, the use of the split screen here illustrates this disjointed and dysfunctional relationship that again is built upon an illusion of love and happiness. While both characters are physically present in the scene, neither of the characters are in each others shot, and their intimacy is restricted by the split screen, causing a rift in their relationship. They’re both present, but they real Harry and Marion are ever present in one another’s lives.

The “high” or “drugged” montages could be analyzed as being a work of rhythmic montage. The majority of these montages where the audience sees the characters self-sabotaging their happiness and spiraling further into a point of no return is often accompanied by a percussionist orchestra in the background, where pills bottles popping opening mimic the sounds of woodblocks. These montages become more like clockwork as the characters begin to descend and as their personalities become more dependent and addictive towards their drug.

This scene with Sara perfectly demonstrates the use of intellectual montage in film. Intellectual montage is often used to juxtapose two somewhat unrelated images, and while Sara has a clear relation to her diet pills, there is a clear distinction between the two shots: good and evil. Sara wants to appear “presentable” and wants to be the idealistic mother for her son, and Sara’s good intentions often is blinded by her vanity, leading her to the evil, which in this case in her pills. The pills, like the other drugs in the film, are self-destructive, and they actual obstruct Sara from getting the things she want, such as her son and her game show appearance.

When Harry and Tyrone are sealing drugs, their montage is what would be categorized as a metric montage. What would takes months of planning, takes up seconds on the audience’s screen time. Their plans and inner workings of drug dealing and selling are important to them, but to the audience, their trials and tribulations are time lapsed, seeming minuscule or insignificant in the long run. While it is a quick buck for the two to grab at the time, it cannot satisfy the addictions they either consciously or subconsciously feed.

A24’s and Barry Jenkins’s Moonlight follows the three stage of Chiron’s life, growing up as a young black man struggling with his sexual identity as well as his home life in Miami. Chiron, unfortunately, has a harsh home life, absent of love for the majority of his life. In this scene, Chiron is coming home after spending the night at his “surrogate mother’s”, Teresa’s, house. The disconnect that Chiron has with his biological is shown through a point-of-view/subjective shot, allowing the audience to be in Chiron’s shoes. A lot of Moonlight’s cinematography is focused on making the audience feel apart of the scene, but that principle shines especially bright here. At times, Chiron’s mother’s, Paula’s, words don’t match up with her lips, demonstrating the dissociation that Chiron has with her as a part of his life.

In Chiron’s first stage of his life, he is nicknamed “Little” and bullied due to his sensitivity and tranquility, something that is stereotypically not associated with men. He is ostracized from the rest of his male peer due to his emotional maturity, but he does find companionship in another boy, Kevin. In this long shot, the audience is forced to look at Kevin and “Little” as they are the center of the shot and the focal point. There is also a lot of negative space on the side and up top, creating a feeling of isolating for normality and that these two boys are the only ones to understand each other.

Water plays an intricate part of Moonlight as water is associated with a new beginning or a baptism of sorts. Water often plays apart in each of Chiron’s chapters in his life and acts as a sort of turning point. It is shown here and then is used after he is hurt by Kevin. In this shot, the movement of the camera takes the audience underneath the water with Chiron. This signifies the first true moment that the audience is being asked to step into Chiron and experience his life firsthand with him. This scene is also one of the more brighter or well lit scenes in Moonlight, illustrating that this is one of the more positive and calm moments in Chiron’s life.

After getting punched by his childhood friend Kevin, Chiron goes to the bathroom to wash the blood off his face. This scene is shot with stylized lighting, giving an out of Earth atmosphere. Cinematographer James Laxton used stylized lighting rather than naturalistic lighting to show the reality altering event of a life long friend’s betrayal and crumbling due to peer pressure. For Chiron, this experience is not real and is shown through the whimsical light blue lighting. This scene’s key light comes from the background and illuminates the wall rather than Chiron’s features, giving him a shadowy effect. This could also be a metaphor of Chiron blending into the toxic masculinity trope that he tried so desperately to avoid as this scene is the turning part where he becomes harsh and cold and loses his vulnerability.

In this scene below, Kevin and Chiron are slowly repairing their relationship. Here, a medium close-up is used to demonstrate the intimacy and understanding of their relationship is slowly building back after years of being tarnished. They are the only two individuals present in the frame, and they are the only ones to matter in each other lives. James Laxton also mixes the usage of stylized lighting and naturalistic lighting to demonstrate that this loving relationship is real in Chiron but in a way in wishful thinking and fantastical due to Chiron’s distrust stemming from previous relationships.

Heathers is satirical, black comedy that critiques the social hierarchies in high school and the insecurities and horrors that are a product of cliques and niche “friend” groups. When dealing with insecurities, it’s best to start with the examination of Heather Duke and her color scheme/transformation.

Each Heather (and Veronica) is assigned a color that dominants their wardrobe and in turn their personality. Heather Duke is the only one in the group that does not belong to the triadic color scheme. Chandler, McNamara, and Veronica are all represented with primary colors, but Duke is represented by green, a color that is not primary and cannot stand by itself. Unlike red, yellow, and blue, green must be mixed with other colors to exist! This could be a reflection of Duke’s lack of self-identity, insecurities, and eating disorder in her friend group as well as her subservience. All of her friends are primary (or dominant) where is merely a follower.

However, by the end of the film after Heather Chandler bit the “big blue,” Duke begins to adopt red as her signature color, weaseling her way into being a primary character/color and the dominant leader of the Heathers. This is a prime example of transitional colors, when a characters growth or regression is displayed through their color palette. While the powerful red would be associated with power, Duke is continuing to regress as her assuming Chandler’s color furthers the argument of lack of self-identity.

Associative colors also play a major role in Heathers, as previously mentioned each girl is given a defiant color that dictates their personality and actions. Main protagonist, Veronica Sawyer, is dressed in blues and blacks. Where the Heathers are very vibrant in their color palettes, Veronica tends to wear more muted shades to show that she is the outlier of the group, not only in name but in personality as well. Veronica’s muted tones can also be a reflection of the embarrassment she has hanging around the Heathers because even though Veronica wants to be a good person, she does not associate herself with good people (J.D. included). Duke wears green as she envious of Heather Chandler and greedy for power. McNamara wears yellow as she innocent, naive, and the most youthful emotionally of the group.

Heather Chandler is the mythic bitch and leader of the Heathers, as shown in love for red. Red is often associated with power, anger, lust, and wrath, all qualities that Chandler possesses. The big event of the movie also centers around Veronica and Chandler and when they are placed together, a complementary color effect is created as warm tones (Chandler/red) create contrasting drama with cool tones (Veronica/blue).

It should also be noted that Heather Chandler, while is not present in second and third act of the film, has an overarching presence and power over Veronica and Westerburg. In many scenes, there is either a red hue or pop of red that allows the viewer that Heather Chandler is always watching, assuming a big brother level role. The Westerburg colors are even red and white, Chandler’s favorites. From the lunch trays down to the staircase, Heather is there even when she’s gone. Even when scenes tend to be muted or cooler, red always sneaks into the frame, creating color discordance within the scene.

Reading Analysis:

Benshoff starts his thesis by recognizing the otherness of homosexuality under the rule of a patriarchal society; therefore, homosexuality is often viewed as a threat to the natural, straight order or as a barrier/sin to straight “purity.”

It is all subjective depending on the perspective of the person interpreting, but through a queer lens, a lot of gothic monsters are queer-coded, specifically vampires. Vampires transfer a virus via blood, and the AIDS epidemic spread in a similar way via the transfer of fluids, often the source coming from gay men, creating this shared horror between vampires and the LGBTQIA+ community. Benshoff recognizes that the homosexual is painted similarly to the way evil lurks in patriarchal horror films, waiting to come out or bursting and disrupt the natural order of the straight status quo.

Benshoff goes onto to describe the otherness of homosexuality and how it acts as blockade or a barrier to the normalized heterosexual romance in horror films. Many horror films portray heterosexual romantic plot lines, where the monster disrupts the straight order of the relationship. Similar to Clover’s argument of the villain in a slasher giving into submission fantasy as he gives up his phallic traits to the final girl, Benshoff recognizes a similar trend in the depiction of queer couples in the media, where one half of the gay couple must be feminized or be without phallic to assume the role of the woman and vice versa for lesbians.

It is the fear of the abnormality of the homosexual relationship to the straight norm that caused this fear and horror that was translated, projected, and interpreted onto the repressed movie monster.

Film Analysis:

There’s nothing like an evil dream demon with blades for fingers telling you he needs you.

Throughout the film, Jesse, the final boy, battles with his inner demons as Freddy Krueger fights for control for his body. “Like an evil Mr. Hyde, or the Wolfman, a gay or lesbian self inside you might be striving to get out” (Benshoff 116). Freddy attempts to subdue parts of Jesse’s personality, such as his seemingly heterosexuality. Every intimate moment Jesse has with his girlfriend, Freddy takes over, causing Jesse to run away out of fear, displaying some form of comphet. Comphet is the shortened word for compulsory heterosexuality, meaning that heterosexuality is the assumed sexual identity under the bourgeois patriarchal order and often queer individuals function under comphet, seeing that is the normal or right thing to do. “The concepts “monster” and “homosexual” share many of the same semantic charges and arouse many of the same fears about sex and death” (Benshoff 117). One could interpret that is the subtext for the Jesse, Freddy, and Lisa as Jesse is trying to fight this evil lurking with in him in order to maintain this heterosexual relationship. This “evil” within him is waiting to burst out of him and consume him, coloring the negative or monstrous ways homosexuals are often depicted.

Despite A Nightmare on Elm Street Part 2: Freddy’s Revenge being considered a gay movie, the Freddy’s Krueger queer coded urges are still silenced by the dominating straight sexuality of patriarchal culture as Lisa swoops in to save the day. “Since the demands of the classical Hollywood narrative system
usually insist on a heterosexual romance within the stories they construct, the monster is traditionally figured as a force that attempts to block that romance. As such, many monster movies (and the source material on which they draw) might be understood as being “about” the eruption of some form of queer sexuality into the midst of a resolutely heterosexual milieu” (Benshoff 118). Straight is the overlay and the norm in the patriarchal society, and so queer cannot triumph in the end. Even though Freddy Krueger is not the best queer representation, the movie does not qualify to be a progressive horror film because the queer-coded character does not win. The monster does not win, and straight wins in the end after Lisa helps Jesse repress Freddy and banishes the demon; therefore, A Nightmare on Elm Street Part 2: Freddy’s Revenge has to be seen as a reactionary horror film. Despite the homosexual undertones the film has to offer, the film still conforms to the straight majority by the end, leaving the message behind to queer analysts that straight wins in the end.

Reading Analysis:

Coleman not only describes the role of blacks in horror films, but she also acknowledges the role that race, specifically African Americans, in film as a whole. She dives into the horror genre specifically, saying that horror is meant to disrupt the natural order of a hegemonic rational, evoke fear, upset the validity of rationality. She describes the roles of Blacks in horror films as a disrupt into the whiteness in everyday society as the majority of horror films in the beginning where shaped and created by white men. The roles of Blacks begs the question if the racial difference is to lend itself to the otherness of the antagonist, portraying a savage stereotype of the people, or can Blacks exist in horror films just to be a character? Coleman then makes the remark that is scarcely seen that Blacks are often portrayed in the horror genre, and if they are, their otherness against the bourgeois, patriarchal, white status quo is often played for some antagonistic or minor role.

Coleman also describes that a lot of the founding fathers of the slasher genre are set in the suburbs, an area that is not often populated by black individuals, so films like Halloween or Nightmare on Elm Street may not have black actors cast because it doesn’t make sense socioeconomically. Coleman when describing the role of the Blacks in horror cannot just exist in the narrative like a white character can without making some notion towards race, oppression, or inequity, whether it be portrayed through an antagonist or protagonist lens.

In Pinedo’s reading, she demonstrates the way race is depicted in horror films. Pinedo recognizes the absence of race diversity in horror films with the majority of horror films being filled with a majority all white cast and creative team, funding by all white run studios. Pinedo states the postmodern horror films’ terrors linger in a place that is unexpected to find any otherness, such as the middle class suburbs or a summer camp, straying away from the gothic formula of either a castle or a mad scientist’s castles. This removes the buffer between the anxieties and fears present in the urban cities where more racial groups are prevalent, leading to the creation of urban horror.

Pinedo goes on to address and examine the presence of race in horror films, whether it is there intentionally, to support the protagonists, or to be the antagonist. She says the monster is most likely to be constituted as a racial other when the horror film expands into urban adventures in big, crime-filled cities, like Chicago, New York, or Los Angeles, where more racial minorities are present and operate in America.

Candyman Film Analysis:

This was definitely a movie that was assigned for class. Let’s get that out of the way.

Throughout Candyman, Helen is exposed to the systematic and generational trauma that the people in the projects experience due to the wrath of Candyman. It’s wrong to say, but it is clear that in the move that Helen lives in the nicer part of the city. “Because it seeks to disrupt everyday life and supplant security with paranoia, the genre locates the monster in an ideologically safe environment: the rural, innocent pastoral realm, or the suburb, the buffer zone removed from, and in opposition to the city, signifier of corruption” (Pinedo 112). The urban horror of Candyman seeps into the pristine, whiteness of the clean, modern part of the city after Helen research follows her home, finding horror in unexpected places and disrupting the status quo. This curse of systematic racism follows Helen and invades the lives of her white husband and “white-washed” black friend. “What is observed here is that in many instances violence in Blackness and horror function together to provide important discursive inroads, such as violence as exhibiting a sort of ‘return of the re/oppressed’” (Coleman 5). The Candyman exists during this point in time because a white woman believes in him, rather than taking the words of the black people in the ghettos who have been experiencing race based crimes for years now. Helen had to witness the Candyman one time, and she gets all the attention; however, these black people have been witnessing these crimes against their loved ones, and no one in power batted an eye because this was nothing new to these people.

Candyman, while having a black man in one of the lead roles, reinforces the stereotype of black people being portrayed as a ‘boogeyman.’ “The pro-Ku Klux Klan, Civil War epic The Birth of a Nation (1915) is one film that soundly casts Blacks as horrific figures-they are monstrous, savage boogeymen (often, literally men) with troublesome cultural practices” (Coleman 7). The Candyman does unspeakable things to his own people and terrorizes Helen and her loved ones, and he does without reason other than for revenge. However, he is getting revenge on the wrong people and is creating a fear that continues throughout the community and spreads to become this urban legend. “At the end of Night, Ben’s body is unceremoniously burned in a bonfire, the film’s last image of fire, one that suggests the Klan’s use of fire to rule by terror” (Pinedo 114). At the end of the film, Helen burns to death. Yes, she is white, but her death reinforces the symbolism of the oppressed burning for their existence. It’s the reminiscent of the KKK imagery that assists with the racism and wrongful writing that is present throughout the entirety of Candyman.

It should also be noted that the Candyman is not just a legend, but he has to be an urban legend because his believers mainly reside in the ghettos, and he himself is black. “Considering that a sexist society perceives battered women who kill in self defense as criminal, if not monstrous, and that a racist society appraises aggressive black men (and sometimes women) as criminals, if not monsters, then is there not some pleasure and sense of power to be gained, at least by female and black audience members,“ from seeing the power in these violent figures?” (Pinedo 131). Candyman gets its diversity points for having a black man be in the spotlight, but that’s about where the progressiveness ends because all other characteristics reinforce harmful stereotypes about black people and their culture. “For example, Brown categorizes Black character types frequently seen in early twentieth century mainstream literature, such as the ‘content slave’ or the ‘wretched freeman’” (Coleman 2). The portrayal of black individuals in Candyman can never leave the state of the impoverished, oppressed individual in the ghettos or the content slave, like Candyman was the artistic entertainer for the white folks of his time.

Get Out Film Analysis:

There’s something to be said about the authenticity of stories when they are told by the people they are about. Where Candyman had a white creative team writing about the black experience, Get Out has Jordan Peele leading a triumph of modern day American cinema, and Get Out reveals the racism that goes unnoticed in America society.

The movie is set in the secluded home of the Armitage family. “What I have found is that horror films which violate this convention of whiteness also violate another convention of the genre: they are usually set in the city rather than the suburban or rural retreat favored by con temporary horror films” (Pinedo 112). Here, Get Out follows the ‘horror in a places it shouldn’t be’ troupe, but this cliche is flipped on its head. The majority of horror films that take place in places like the suburbs (areas where it is seemingly safe) have a majority white cast. “Horror films avoid locating monstrosity in the city where violence is, as a matter of public record, a routine element of everyday life” (Pinedo 112). Peele recognizes that the horrors of racism are present not just in the city but also in every aspect of the black man’s day to day life, using the Armitages as a deception. They are the model neoliberal family, supportive of their daughter’s interracial relationship and educated and interested in Black culture, but it’s all of facade of their philosophy of the disposal of the African American and their cultures for their own personal and financial gain. The Armitages run a slave trade system from their backyard via the facade of a silent bingo. It’s really a silent auction, selling Chris to wealthy white elders. It’s the silent racism and the disposal of one man’s identity as he is stripped away from capital. “It is a problem that is still exacerbated by a ‘sense of always looking at one’s self through the eyes of others, of measuring one’s soul by the tape of a world that looks on in amused contempt and pity’” (Coleman 9). Chris is in danger of his body becoming someone else’s. His eyes would not be his own, and he would be competing for the right to run his own body against a white person who bought his way in there. These white people are actually taking their souls and putting them in black people’s body to look at one’s self through the eyes of others. “It cannot be ignored that physical and emotional violence are often central to the horror film genre” (Coleman 5). The matriarch of the family uses the traumas that Rose’s partners have in order to silence and subdue the blackness in them to make room for the white elder to control the body through hypnosis.

Here, Peele manages to flip something else on its head. To survive the Armitages, Chris stuffs his ears with cotton. Cotton is usually associated with the crop that was harvested by slaves pre-Civil War, but in this scene, Chris uses it to his advantage to escape the Armitages. “One film that racializes the monster as white, and that draws on the social conditions of the inner city ghetto, is not included in my group of race horror films because it unfolds not within an urban environment, but inside a large house” (Pinedo 114). The Armitage house, like the family itself, has more than meets the eye. The house is fairly large from the outside, but the intricacy of its character evolves when the audience explores the underground portions. The overarching theme of Get Out is the appearance and facade of individuals. “Isabel Christina Pinedo, in Recreational Terror: Women and Pleasure of Horror Film Viewing, capably synthesizes the range of horror considerations, defining the genre according to five key descriptors: (1) horror disrupts the everyday world; (2) it transgresses and violates boundaries; (3) it upsets the validity of rationality; (4) it resists narrative closure; and (5) it works to evoke fear” (Coleman 4-5). Get Out upsets the natural order of society’s natural appearance and disrupts the boundaries that the audience has. The Armitages appear interested in Chris and his culture, but then the viewer learns that it’s not for the right reasons. The house appears to be a wealthy house, but when the viewer is introduced to the basement, it is to be understood that the Armitages are using their wealth, power, and status for evil and their own personal gain.

Reading Analysis:

Tony Williams in his article argues with Carol Clover and Robin Wood that horror movies are not just horror movies but also have an underlying message or meaning that they try to promote through its subtext. Williams acknowledges the horrors that Clover depicts in her analysis of the “final girl” and the punishment of the female in horror films. He also recognizes the patriarchal, bourgeois, white, male gaze culture that Robin Wood recognizes often shapes the way the viewer sees the horror film, but Williams goes into detail about the horror of the family.

Williams analyzes the “bad mothers” of the horror films of the 1960s and 1970s and how these mothers were the root their child’s demented repressions that unleash themselves onto the unsuspecting group of teens or young adults. He also adds that the absence of the father in the family structure leaves room from unrequited patriarchal love to creep into the child’s life. He mentioned that the dysfunctions of the nuclear family and sexually/physically abused child victims had always been unfortunately present in American society, but the cracks in hegemony began to shatter unleash the killer offspring of the horror and slasher film into the screens of American movie theaters.

As the repressed child suffers under the patriarchal forces through their parents and the hegemonic orders of society, the child’s wants, fears, and counter-hegemonic operations. For Williams, he believes this began to blossom under the Reagan era and administration and the conformity of the purity of a patriarchal and white America, where minority groups and others weren’t tolerated or accepted into the societal structure.

Film Analysis

The overarching thematic intention of The Stepfather is the idea of the perfect nuclear family with patriarchal father at the head of the household where the female members of the family are submissive to his ruling. “Most 1980s horror films represent texts in tension illustrating contradictory features paralleling Antonio Gramsci’s insights into hegemonic and counter hegemonic operations” (Williams 194). In The Stepfather the hegemonic order would be the way of the patriarchal father and the push in the Reagan administration for the return to the nuclear family. Antagonist Jerry forces the families he plagues into the nuclear family mold with him being at the head of the household.

The audience sees Jerry puts the household and domestic life on a pedestal as he mounts a bird house with similar architectural features to his own residency. The bird house is isolated, almost existing within its own world with its own order, and the bird house also overlooks the family as they walk towards their own house. The bird house is as high as the house itself, really giving this overarching idea of the domestic household a really literal symbolism here.

However, by the end of the film after Jerry is defeated by Stephanie and Susan, Stephanie chops the bird house down represent a renewal of the matriarchal household, a stray away from the traditional nuclear family, and rebirth of this new family dynamic. The fact that Stephanie is the one to give the final hatch to the nuclear family is very impactful. “This era saw a growing revelation of cases of child abuse and dysfunctional families, giving the lie to the Reagan family dream” (Williams 199). The film portrays the dismissal of the child’s voice and opinion in the household as Susan continually tells Stephanie to obey and respect Jerry as the new patriarchal figure of the household. While Stephanie’s intuition about Jerry is correct, her thoughts are constantly rejected by Susan because of her age status. She’s a naive, immature teenager, so of course she would be dismissed by her parental figures, giving into Stephanie’s otherness due to her age; however, it is Stephanie to defeat Jerry, revealing the child’s liberation from the patriarchal figure. It is Stephanie who unveils the dysfunctionality of this family structure, so it needed to be Stephanie to destroy it once and for all.

The Stepfather also grapples with the idea of the lack of individuality under the conformity of hegemony. “Cracks within the Reaganite hegemony, Contragate, and the developing strains within the American social fabric brought these issues to public attention” (Williams 201). Ever persona that Jerry creates is existentially the same man: the ideal family. The only thing that Jerry variates is his name, his job, and his appearance. All of these men are family first to a point where the identities begin to merge, and he forgets who is playing at what point in time.

Jerry plays the part of the loving father because he thinks that is the societal standard set by a Reagan administration who was heart set on the push for the nuclear family in the American household. Jerry, who conforms to that ideal, lacks the individuality that a person needs to survive and be happy. He conforms to be safe and not be labeled as an “other,” but he lives unhappily and a shell of the man he could be if he wasn’t conditioned to thinking his sole purpose was to be the ideal family man. Jerry fabricated these families to feed into the standard of the Reagan administration’s nuclear family hope, but due to Jerry’s lack of independence and emotional instability, the facade falls and the dysfunction of the family seeps through, bring the Jerry’s destruction with it.

Reading Analysis:

With the decline of institutional and religious practices being mainstream introduced the sense of living during the “last of days” or the apocalypse. Movies such as The Texas Chainsaw Massacre were intended to exemplify a particular apocalyptic vision moving from disclosing family contradictions toward self-indulgent nihilism. The Texas Chainsaw Massacre is a postmodern film, and with that title comes the responsibility to break boundaries and traditions that were considered standard of movies before.

The contemporary apocalyptic film derives from any religious presence and comes from a postwar(s) era of live where the meaning of living became bleak and nihilistic. Tony Williams comments that Leatherface differs from other slasher icons such as Michael Myers and Freddy Krueger because Leatherface lacks supernatural abilities. Freddy is made from people’s dreams and fears, really digging into the Freud meta-ness, and while Michael was born mortal, there is supernatural ability to his strength and powers, such as regeneration; however, Leatherface is as human as his victims, leveling the playing field. With the removal of any religious motifs, underlying patriarchal messages, and supernatural abilities, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre creates an eeriness that this could happen to any average Joe.

With Leatherface and his family being mortal and possessing no supernatural abilities, they suffer under the same systematic oppressions, such as capitalism as Williams mentions. The Sawyer family is put out of work, the only thing they know, and are replaced by machinery. The Texas Chainsaw Massacre is the critique and observation of when the underdogs of society are no longer of use to the machine. Human labor being replaced by mechanics due to industrial capitalism is an underlying theme in the film as Williams mentions.

Film Analysis:

As The Texas Chainsaw Massacre is a postmodern film, it needs to break the standard of tradition in film one way or another, and it does so in many ways but specifically the nuclear family. “Apocalyptic dimensions have historic connections determining particular cinematic treatments of the family that reveal the America horror film as a fundamental component of the national cultural tradition” (Williams 186). The goal is to make the audience uncomfortable with the lack of conformity present.

While The Texas Chainsaw Massacre is a critique of a patriarchal capitalist society, the film still exits in a patriarchal capitalist society, which is the evident in the lack of women in the Sawyer family dynamic. The only woman who is present is dead. She’s a corpse because a woman cannot survive in a system that was not made for her to exist in. The only one who takes on a female role is Leatherface. Not only does he wear a female skin mask, but he also takes on traditional “motherly” duties such as preparing the food and making meals for the rest of the family. Leatherface is obedient to his father and is subservient to the others in the house, despite he being the one who nurtures the household. “As Hooper shows the slaughterhouse family represent the return of many repressed qualities–social, cultural, ideological, and historical” (Williams 188). While the Sawyer family does represent the deep repressions of American society like murder, created at the hand of capitalism, they still do conform yet criticize the precedents set by society, such as the father being the breadwinner as a small independent business owner of the family yet not really making any money or providing for the family.

Final girl, Sally, also falls victim of capitalism because with her perception, the Sawyer family is a capitalistic structure, always pulling you back in and using you until there is nothing left. “Despite apocalyptic elements Hooper presents his slaughterhouse family as material embodiments of capitalist repression” (Williams 193). Sally barely survives by the skin of her teeth with the Sawyer family, sucking her dry for all she has (No actually, they suck her blood and attempt to suck her dry.). It would seem more humane to let her die at this point because she is a shell of a human by the end of the film with the amount of trauma and suffering she endured in those few hours, but capitalism just spits people back out once they aren’t of value to them anymore.

The same is true for the Sawyer family. They are good at one thing: killing, and once they were replaced by machinery, there was no longer a spot in society for them. They became the “other” once they weren’t of use to capitalism. This is very true for Leatherface who can only kill and provide for his family because that’s what he was trained to do. He was supposed to kill animals to satisfy the machine, which allowed him to provide for his family. Now that society no longer needs the Sawyer family’s services doesn’t mean that the years of conditioning magically goes away. Leatherface only can comprehend killing and providing for his family because that is what capitalism in a white patriarchal society has told him to do.

Reading Analysis:

In both of Sarah Arnold’s articles, “Introduction” and “The Bad Mother,” she describes the tropes of the “bad” or abject mother in horror films. In the “Introduction,” Arnold talks about the Freudian psychoanalysis of the mother and child relationship. Freud depicts that the way a child behaves is dependent on how the mother raised the child, and if how humans develop their repressions in their subconscious during childhood activity, that is not bizarre to link the mother’s nurturing to the child’s later adult repressions of fears and desires.

Arnold says that no matter if the mother is “good” or “bad” that she must consciously or subconsciously be obedient to a patriarchal order set by the father or a patriarchal culture. The good mother is sacrificial and nurturing, putting the child’s need before her own and often neglecting her wants. The bad mother is selfish and rejects the child’s wants and desires, putting herself before the child. The bad mother cliche also coincides with the horror troupe of “mother-as-monsters” and the idea of the victimization or “otherness” of maternal figures in horror films. She can only ever be the victim, the monster/other, or a mix of both.

In Arnold’s second article, “The Bad Mother,” she dives deeper into the representation of the bad mother. In order to be considered a bad mother, the maternal figure must reject the prescribed role of the submissive, obedient caretaker of the nuclear family model. Like the majority of “others” in horror films, she is punished for rejecting the hierarchy of maternal nurturing in patriarchal structured society. The bad mother also represents the corruption of the ideal female in this male dominated society, thus creating a reason for her punishment: lack of conformity.

Film Analysis:

It should be said that Amelia, the mother in The Babadook, is not a bad mother intentionally. The only reason she has a disconnect between her and her child, Sam, is due to the fact that the death of her husband and the grief she never processed from his death, which is the Babadook. The Babadook is the personification of grief and trauma. “The Bad Mother simply rejects
her prescribed role within the dominant nuclear family model” (Arnold 68). Amelia never has any wants or desires to abandon Sam. She is very persistent in trying to understand and connect with her child. While The Babadook does touch on motherhood, it is more a movie about grappling with grief, the past, and mental illness than anything else.

Amelia is not so much of a bad mother as she is a grieving mother. “In some instances she is indeed punished for rejecting her traditional function of self-sacrifice and devotion, yet at times the very horror of the film can be found in the mother’s fanatical conformity to the institution of motherhood (Rich, 1976)” (Arnold 68). Amelia does perform motherly duties, such as taking care of and reading Sam his bedtime stories, which is where the audience is first introduced to the Babadook.

Director Jennifer Kent’s (Wow, something actually directed by a woman for once!) decision to make the Babadook into a bedtime story/fairytale is genius because adult’s often dismiss fairytales are being false where children believe them and see them as truth. If the Babadook is the personification of grief (which he is), then Sam believes in the Babadook’s existence because he acknowledges his father’s death the entire movie. “Thus, the maternal functions as a source of ambivalence for the child: something which must be repressed through the acquisition of the language of patriarchal authority” (Arnold 10). It is Amelia who represses and doesn’t discuss the death of her husband, so she dismisses the Babadook as fictional because she can’t comprehend or acknowledge her own grief and trauma.

It also should be said in the film, Amelia mentions that she used to be an author and write children’s book, so by the Babadook being a book for children just furthers the proof that she is scribing her own grief to be personified because it’s her story. She created it.

Amelia is not the bad mother but the grieving mother. She tries to be good mother. “This chapter will contend that the Bad Mother is not only a product of the patriarchal imaginary, or a representative of the nightmare unconscious, but also a transgressive figure who resists conformity and assimilation” (Arnold 69). Amelia tries to assimilate and congregate with the other mothers, but there is a disconnect due to her never processing her grief. The audience can actually see Amelia go through the five stages of grief throughout the movie.

The stages aren’t technically linear, but Amelia does go through the stages: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. In the beginning, she barely touches upon the death of her husband, and it pains her to talk about it (denial). Then as the Babadook creeps into the household and makes himself more evident to Amelia, she deals with sadness and anger at the same time, depriving her of sleep and causing her to lose her temper on Sam. Once the Babadook possesses Amelia and the grief consumes her is when she really shows the maternal horror. “Maternal power is figured as violent, destructive and detrimental to the child” (Arnold 11). However, it’s not so much maternal power as it is the dissociation of one’s self in their own body due to depression. The Babadook then bargains with Amelia to give Sam over to him, so that the grief can go away because Sam is a constant reminder of the death of her husband, due to her husband dying in a car accident while driving Amelia to the hospital to give birth to Sam.

By the end of the film, Amelia has recognized and accepted her grief, and the Babadook is living in the basement because can be accepted but never truly go away. “She is all-loving and she suffers for her son” (Arnold 16). Now, that Amelia has accepted her grief she can have a true relationship with her son; however, at the end of the film, Amelia digs up a bowl of worms and brings it to the basement to feed and nurture the Babadook. It is a minor detail, but spiritually, worms represents life, death, rebirth, personal growth, and transformation. Amelia is feeding the Babadook her own personal growth in this symbiotic way to accepting him but not allowing him further entry into her life. It’s beautiful in a way that she can physically live with her grief but understands that she needs to learn to live with him because you can’t get rid of the Babadook.

Reading Analysis:

In Shelly Stamp’s “Horror, Femininity, and Carrie’s Monstrous Puberty,” she describes the depiction of the abomination of womanhood and the wickedness that tags along with it. Stamp recognizes the way that femininity and womanhood have been maliciously depicted in cinema, specifically in horror films, like Carrie.

She critiques Carrie that while all be in the film centers around women, the film still exists in a masculine fantasy with the most obvious evidence being the opening scene where minors and newly adult women are showering, vulnerable and completely naked. Nothing is censored or blurred, reenforcing the idea of the slasher and horror cinema being rooted in voyeuristic pleasure. The girls caress their bodies as they wash the filth from their delicate figures and the steam causes them to perspire in the shower together. It is all very sexual and pleasurable for the male heterosexual viewer.

The scene takes a darker turn when protagonist Carrie gets her period for the first time. Not understanding what is happening, she screams as if she was getting stabbed because it’s unnatural to her world and what her mother had taught her (or not taught her). The girls laugh at the innocence Carrie possesses, and the scene quickly conforms to the horror genre as the girls snicker, ridicule, and taunt Carrie’s adolescence, throwing pads and tampons at the terrified girl. While it is very traumatic and triggering scene, it depicts the natural menstrual cycle as something monstrous that must be punished or jeered at.

It continues to go down hill as Carrie is sent home for the day and confronts her mother about the situation today. Her mother has as much sympathy as Carrie’s gym class did, punishing her by locking her in closest to repent the evil curse she had inherited from the first woman, Eve. Stamp comments that neither the gym class or Carrie’s own mother has any sympathy for her in these situations due to the fact that a patriarchal society has been conditioned to consider the female period as wicked, vile, and disgusting. By saying that Eve was weak for having this curse puts the onus on all women to be weak by having this inherently evil quality or curse they all possess.

Stamp comments on the need for women in Carrie to masquerade the appearance of the ideal female for a male hierarchy. Whether it is to be to the standard of beauty for prom that Miss Collin’s projects onto Carrie or whether it is the need to appease a male God like Ms. White does, all women create a facade of femininity for the male gaze they are trying to pleasure or appease with innocent Carrie being caught in the middle.

Film Analysis:

By the end of the movie, it is evident who is in true control of the White household, and it was never Margaret. As Carrie kills her murder to save herself, she uses her powers to impale her with kitchen utensils and knives. The punctures of Ms. White’s body strike a similar resemblance to those on Carrie’s Jesus statue in her prayer/punishment room.

This reflection in imagery heightens the fact that Ms. White was never a mother. She’s a vessel for a patriarchal power, such as a male God, like Jesus. “Joan Rivière and Michèle Montrelay have described a masquerade of femininity that consists of an exaggerated buildup of the body’s surface through makeup, shimmering fabrics, jewels, enhanced color, and elaborate coiffures that catch the eye but ultimately reflect the gaze away from the woman’s interior” (Stamp 338). Ms. White adorned the facade of the ideal God-fearing women to uphold the fantasy for a metaphysical power of a monotheistic God. At the end, there are candles scattered amongst the house, replicating the look of an altar, shrine, or church. The architecture of the White residency also resembles the look of a gothic cathedral with its high arches and dramatic emblems. The house was never a place of comfort for Carrie. It was a place of worship, a temple, that came crashing down after one of its apostles, Carrie, could not conform to the ideal of the meager, quiet, and obedient woman, an image her mother impressed upon her.

With the choice of Brian De Palma, it is illustrated here that Carrie getting her period is monstrous and something to be frightened of. There is a lack of empathy for the girl from her peers as well as the camera angles. “Failing to comprehend her first menstrual period and believing she is wounded, Carrie screams in panic, her voice and the roar of the shower abruptly invading the soundtrack” (Stamp 332). Where it would be reasonable for Carrie to be terrified because she is wounded, it is framed as the menstrual cycle to be terrifying for the viewer. It’s grotesque and comes with the consequences of being ridiculed and mocked for the naturalism of womanhood. The audience sees the return of blood towards the end of film when Carrie’s peers dump pig’s blood on her when she is crowned prom queen. With the audience already associating blood with the terror from the shower scene in the beginning, it is drilled in their minds that this is horrific as well.

(It should also be noted that in the original novel, Carrie was described as being fat and chubby, but the studio executives removed this from the script because they believed no audience would want to be a fat actress on screen. They dumped pig blood on her at the end because she was a pig in their eyes.)

At the end of the film, the White house collapses due to the deconstruction that is caused by Carrie’s emotions consuming her. “My argument is precisely the opposite. By mapping the supernatural onto female adolescence and engaging the language of the fantastic, Carrie presents a masculine fantasy in which the feminine is constituted as horrific. In charting Carrie’s path to mature womanhood, the film presents female sexuality as monstrous and constructs femininity as a subject position impossible to occupy” (Stamp 331). However, while this analysis is neither right nor wrong, it can be taken a step further and even simplified. The presence of Carrie’s supernatural abilities not only represent a repressed female sexuality in a male fantasized feminine persona, but Carrie’s supernatural abilities can also represent the perception of female emotions through the male gaze.

Throughout the film, the audience sees Carrie’s emotions be the personification of her bottled emotions, often displayed by rage or sadness. The abilities manifest as solution to Carrie’s lack of coping mechanisms that have been taught to her by authority and parental figures in her life. Every female authority figure Carrie encounter’s impresses their idea of what a woman is onto Carrie with her mom upholding the facade for religion and Miss Collins impressing the idea of the figure of beauty implemented by the male gaze in a patriarchal society. Carrie lacks self-identity, and she never established coping skills to deal with the riff she has between her home and school life.

After the deconstruction of her school, she eradicates that aspect of her life and now is only left with her home life. After the rejection of her mother’s limited love for her, Carrie realizes that she has no where to go. She has no foundation, and that’s why the house crumbles because there is no foundation in the home or in Carrie’s life, allowing for Carrie’s repressed emotions to consume her and her life whole. Carrie’s house was never hers. It was a shrine to a patriarchal structure that she was forced to live in. She didn’t belong to her high school, being dismissed and tortured by people who didn’t even know her name.