Independent Zombie Flick DEAD GENESIS: A LOT TO OFFER IN THE BRAINS DEPARTMENT

             While zombie flicks hold a special place in our horror hearts there is no denying that many of these films have started to blend and supersede each other, making it hard to tell them apart and distinguish one from the other.  We get it – zombies have taken over the human race, and we’re relatively screwed except for a few street savvy individuals with plenty of guts n’ guns.  George Romero has already capitalized on most original zombified schemas, and new ideas seem few and far between (kudos to 28 DAYS LATER, SHAUN OF THE DEAD, and ZOMBIELAND, all great films).  There is a lot of love out there for the zombie genre, but rarely does a film blow our brains (metaphorically speaking, of course).  

           

            Toronto indie filmmaker and writer Reese Eveneshen’s new film DEAD GENESIS (2010) will change your perspective on all things zombie.  The premise is at first seemingly all too familiar; the dead have taken over, cities and states have been abandoned, and most of society is dead – or undead.  Groups of hunters roam North America killing zombies in the “War On Dead”.  Jillian Hurst (Emily Alatalo), an attractive blonde reporter joins a renowned group of hunters known as the “Dead-Heads” to create and document a pro-war propaganda film.  The innocent and naïve Jillian takes on more than she can handle and as she witnesses a world of death and degradation, she begins to question humanity and the values she arrived with.

            For a film that was made on a very tight budget and an even tighter shooting schedule, the make up and special effects created by Mitchell Stacey, Erin Stuart, Hiro Ogura, and Kristen Demelo are superb.  Eveneshen’s script is well written, with no traces of dry, zombie camp or kitsch.  The cinematography (also the work of Eveneshen) is well executed and effective.  All of the actors are strong, especially first timer Lionel Boodlal who plays Flynn (a sympathetic, sensitive hunter fighting for his family), and Christopher Lee Grant in the role of Rafe, a sleazy bar and zombie-brothel owner.

            

            DEAD GENESIS isn’t afraid to take risks - be prepared to watch an undead mother eat away at her own son while he tries to hopelessly escape, only to be shot in the head by his father after he changes.  The film is also very smart. Similar to Gareth Edwards’ psychological MONSTERS (2010), where humans become the real source of evil, DEAD GENESIS poses a similar perspective and forces the audience to consider the ethics and motivations of the human race.  After watching murder for sport, pick-pocketing to pay a beer tab, and witnessing undead loved ones used as sex puppets, Jillian Hurst realizes that she isn’t in Kansas anymore – and it’s up to her to document the “success” of the war.

            What is most refreshing about this indie gem is that it brings social and political commentary back into the genre.  Romero would be pleased.

        Dead Genesis is a film that needs the support of zombie and horror fans alike; it needs the help of audiences and horror fans to spread the word and create awareness for the film.  Please visit the DEAD GENESIS website at: www.deadgenesismovie.com to view trailers, information, and pictures.  You’ll also be able to download “Podcast Of The Dead” where you can listen to behind-the-scenes featurettes about the hardships of making DEAD GENESIS.  Hop onto your Facebook and Twitter accounts to spread the word about the film – all of this will help DEAD GENESIS one step closer to your DVD and Blu Ray players!

DEAD GENESIS on Twitter: http://twitter.com/#!/ReeseEveneshen

xox 

Lianne Spiderbaby

I Spit On Your Movie

I have written this article a few times now. I’ve been writing it and rewriting it ever since I saw the I SPIT ON YOUR GRAVE remake in theaters back in October. I’m finally ready to bring it out of the oven so I can lay it to rest and move forward.


This remake really pissed me off, for reasons I will discuss in detail, but what upsets me most, and the reason why it has taken me so long to set this article free is because of the rave reviews the film has received. Many of which were written by women. Let me say, first and foremost, I am quite well read in the realm of exploitation and the representation of women in film. I hold an honors degree in film, with a specialist on the very subject. I’ve read Laura Mulvey a million times, and Carol Clover a few times more. I also consider myself to be very lenient in terms of female nudity and violence; I have a deep respect for women in exploitation films, especially in the ’70s-early ’80s. I also enjoy onscreen nudity and sex as much as anyone else. However, Steven R. Monroe’s remake of I SPIT ON YOUR GRAVE is somethin’ else, and I’ve been shocked to read so many positive reviews of the film.

On the other hand, I recently read a critical essay by Heidi Martinuzzi of Fangirltastic about both the original I SPIT ON YOUR GRAVE and the remake, and I spoke with writer and filmmaker Jovanka Vuckovic about her thoughts on the film (she actually didn’t rush out to see it—and isn’t sure why anyone would want to remake the film in the first place). I feel that now is the perfect time to talk about the redux, thanks to its recent DVD/Blu-ray release.

The original I SPIT ON YOUR GRAVE was released in 1978, and it was supposed to be titled DAY OF THE WOMAN. Filmmaker Meir Zarchi wholeheartedly felt as though he had made a film that was pro-female, meaning he truly believed that his film wasn’t sexist or exploitative of women. However, we all know that the 1970s was a time of exploitation, and everything was coming under the radar in independent filmmaking: political and scientific power (ILSA, SHE WOLF OF THE SS), sex (DEEP THROAT), the traditional family structure (THE TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE), social and civil rights (SWEET SWEETBACK’S BAADASSSSS SONG) and the feminist movement (CAGED HEAT). Many of these films made in the ’70s cannot be separated from their political and social messages—they are a crucial part of the film and its contextualization.

At the beginning of the ’70s, President Nixon proved to be popular with the American people; he sent the last American troops home from Vietnam and took some steps forward in normalizing relations with China and Russia. However, due to the war in Vietnam and the Watergate scandal, there was a sudden lack of confidence in authoritative establishments. The obvious monstrousness of the war undermined the credibility of the system and this questioning of authority spread logically to a questioning of the structure that validated it and ultimately to patriarchy itself. Feminism in the ‘70s largely focused on eliminating gender inequality and promoted women’s rights in society. Women were working outside of the home, branching out of the stereotypical nuclear family setting with the dominant male father figure. Feminist film theorist Laura Mulvey published her article ”Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema” in 1975 and according to Mulvey’s paradigm, the threat of castration (absence and lack) posed by the image of women in cinema is contained through a sexualized objectification of that form, whether fetishistic-scopohphilic (woman displayed as erotic pieces, unthreatening by the control of the male gaze) or sadistic-voyeuristic (woman investigated and eventually controlled through punishment) in nature. This articulation of punishment is at the heart of both the original I SPIT ON YOUR GRAVE and Monroe’s redo, whether either filmmaker was aware of it or not.

Why remake a film like I SPIT ON YOUR GRAVE? As mentioned, films in the ’70s had a critical function, fueled by political and social issues. Horror and exploitation films in the 1970s had a critical function. The films demonstrated and depicted what Gregory Waller, author of AMERICAN HORRORS, calls “America’s public debates.” The films would engage with current events such as Watergate, the prolonged withdrawal from Vietnam, the destruction of patriarchy and the nuclear family. Whether he was successful or not, this was what Zarchi had intended when he made I SPIT ON YOUR GRAVE. Monroe’s intentions were not quite as profound; he remade the film because: “We live in a world of remakes, and we will continue to as long as people buy tickets to go see them, so I think that if we are careful in what we remake, and how we remake, I think it could be a good thing. I felt like it was one of those films that could be redone today, content wise.”

What?

Sorry, but there are some horror films that shouldn’t be remade, some films are better left the way they were and better left alone. Monroe states no political or social reasons as to why he wanted to redo the film in the present day, and I’m hard pressed to find one myself.

Of course, watching detailed rape and torture is uncomfortable for anyone, regardless of gender, but female spectators have a different experience watching this brand of brutality on screen. Being raped is a woman’s biggest fear, her worst nightmare. Monroe wanted to make right some of the wrongs he believed Zarchi committed; in Zarchi’s original, protagonist Jennifer Hills uses her sexuality after she is raped to lure her rapists to their death. Monroe thought this was repulsive and wanted to eliminate that aspect in his version. He aimed to change this, and he did with great success; Jennifer does not lure any of the men with her body after she is raped—she kills them brutally and unmercifully—no sugar coating involved. However, just before the killings, Jennifer disappears from the movie, leaving spectators without their protagonist, leaving us to wonder—What the hell happened to Jennifer?

From the very beginning, we are with Jennifer, and I SPIT ON YOUR GRAVE is undoubtedly her story. During the copious rape sequences, Monroe employs several POV shots to further our alignment with Jennifer and the suffering she is experiencing. But after her rape, she disappears, and the rapists take over the film, making it theirs. At least in Zarchi’s version, we stay with Jennifer the entire film; we understand what she goes through after she is raped, and how she reinvents herself into a rancorous killer. This continual alliance with Jennifer is important, especially after being visually and unnervingly sexually assaulted with her as a spectator.

Monroe’s remake involves a woman’s redemption by her own accord, but that is stifled behind an abundant use of violent rape scenes, torture, unnecessary pre-rape nudity and the sexualization of the leading female character. Sarah Butler did an amazing acting job, and she deserves all the praise she has received for her performance as Jennifer, but she was poorly cast in Monroe’s I SPIT ON YOUR GRAVE. Are we supposed to believe that this barely-legal-looking-lady is out in the middle of nowhere working on her second novel, as if she wrote her first while in junior high? She doesn’t look old enough to drink the liquor she buys at the store. Butler has no curves—her body is almost childlike, which adds another dimension of creepiness to the rape sequences. Monroe also has Butler prancing around half-naked during several scenes in the film prior to her rape: while out for a run, while cleaning, trying to fish her cell phone out of the toilet, etc. This pre-rape sexualization of our protagonist is difficult to watch, especially when we are aware of what is yet to come. Imagine what David Slade’s HARD CANDY would have been if viewers were subjected to a lengthy sexual assault on a child, prior to Ellen Page’s character taking revenge. It will never be OK to show sexual assault toward a child, but why are women fair game?

Monroe’s film also cost $1.5 million to make. Yep, $1.5 million was spent to show 30-plus minutes of brutal sexual assault. Butler signed on to the project, it was consensual, but that doesn’t make it any less disturbing for me, she was still sexually assaulted—verbally and physically—on screen for a long duration of time.

In an interview with FearNet.com, Monroe states: “To me, it doesn’t matter the gender; this movie is about something horrific happening to one person—gender doesn’t matter—it’s just something awful that happened, and it changed her.”

Maybe gender doesn’t matter to Monroe, but no one can deny that on-screen rape is often exclusive to female situations, and of course traumatic situations change people. Jason Voorhees, for example, starts killing after witnessing his mother’s decapitation. But why audiences need to watch Jennifer suffer for so long is puzzling. And yet, I’ve read reviews stating that the remake’s rape scene was tame, and it could have been even more brutal. As a female spectator, the opposite is true—nothing is worse than watching a woman being raped, gagged and tormented by a pack of ruthless, revolting men and a lengthy rape scene is simply not necessary.

The last issue involving this remake for me is, who is watching this film? Who filled the seats in the theaters? Fans of Zarchi’s original, no doubt, but more than likely boys/men between the ages of 18-25 held the majority, as they do with most horror film audiences. Again, there is nothing wrong with this, except that violence against women is still very much a problem in our society, and if films and television influence society at all, I SPIT ON YOUR GRAVE is lending itself to some potentially hardcore problems. Some men will see Monroe’s pre-rape sexualization of Butler as justification for the rape. If she was prancing around half naked, she was “asking for it.” As frightening as it seems, there are people out there who will read the film that way, whether we think it is likely or not.

Some readers will disagree with me, but I believe there are a few things that need to be taken into consideration when making a film with ANY rape scene (and I’m a strong believer that any depiction of rape should be very, very short in length):

1. Do your research. Read film theory on the subject of women, rape and representation. Although time consuming for a director, it can’t hurt, at the very least.

2. Consider your audience. You don’t need to censor your work, just consider who will be watching your movie. It’s one thing to show a nice set of breasts, or a hot consensual sex scene, but it’s another to completely attack and violate a woman’s body sexually on-screen, especially if she looks underage.

3. Realize that when push comes to shove, it’s always about gender, (despite what Monroe thinks). You can’t make a film about a white male that goes on a killing spree of only black men and expect no one to call the film racist.

To give Monroe some credit, the revenge sequences were well done; the FX and makeup were horrific, and he crafted a very realistic portrayal of fear on behalf of every character in the film. However, as a whole, I SPIT ON YOUR GRAVE failed miserably in my opinion, and I hope to see in the future much more equal and nondiscriminatory portrayal of women in film.

xox

Lianne Spiderbaby

The Horror Melodrama: THE STRANGE VICE OF MRS. WARDH

In honor of WOMEN IN HORROR month, I’ve been spending my time praising, studying, and aligning myself with some of horror’s coolest, fiercest, and smartest women.  I’ve also been on the look out for the perfect horror film for women. 

Of course, us girls love the usual blood, gore, and guts - the disturbing and shocking subject matter. We can handle it all, but I’ve been looking for a film that runs a bit deeper.  I’ve been looking for a film that gets under a woman’s skin and really speaks to them; a horror film that pleases a woman visually and emotionally, and perhaps even turns her on physically (oh là là)!

I’ve been looking for a horror melodrama, and I have found it in Sergio Martino’s THE STRANGE VICE OF MRS. WARDH (1971).  Even the title is deliciously electrifying.

There is so much about this film that women will instantly fall in love with - and for the men (and women too) there is Edwige Fenech.  The smart, sleek, and sultry French born Italian actress is so talented and easy on the eyes that you feel instantly smitten with her.  Any story that she is a part of, you’re on board with.  You hang from her every word the minute she starts to speak.

The film opens with a man picking up a prostitute and in less than a few minutes, she is in his car topless and he stabs her to death.  I know this sounds like every other giallo you’ve seen, but this sequence is followed by a quote from Sigmund Freud about human nature and murder, foreshadowing the much more intricate and psychological film you’re about to experience.

Julie Wardh (Edwige Fenech) lands at the airport in Vienna where her husband, Neil (Alberto de Mendoza) is whisked away on business.  Like Martino’s other features, color is a crucial aspect for symbolism and the camera moves up up the airport escalator from a woman in a red dress, to another woman’s red heels, and then to our heroine Julie in white and black, looking gorgeous as ever.  Fenech also wears a lot of blue in this film, but when she is in red – we know that our dear actress could be in trouble.  Fashion is big in THE STRANGE VICE OF MRS. WARDH – its chic, luxurious, and the outfits that Julie and her best friend Carol (Conchita Airoldi) wear will leave women drooling over their exquisiteness.  

On the way home from the airport, Julie’s driver explains that the prostitute’s murder we witnessed is just one of many killings that have occurred in Vienna lately.  Although struck by this news, Julie seems distracted by something else and we are privy to a flashback of Julie and Jean (Ivan Rassimov) arguing in a car during a rainstorm.  Julie escapes the vehicle but Jean chases after her and hits her repeatedly before they make love. 

After arriving home to her lonely apartment Julie decides to attend a party hosted by Carol where she meets the handsome, tall, dark, and charming George (George Hilton).  Everything is going quite well for the flirtatious couple until Jean shows up, and Julie storms out.

In another flashback, Jean smashes a bottle over Julie’s naked body before they make love in a bed full of broken glass. We learn that Julie had an unhealthy and violent relationship with Jean in her past - ahhh, Mrs. Wardh’s vice! 

Martino was on to something here - perhaps this scene is alluding to the essence of horror films and why we love them – the contrast between pain and pleasure, the tension we experience when we know the killer is near, and that release of anxiety we feel after a watching a murder onscreen.   Film theorists such as Noel Carroll (author of The Philosophy of Horror, or Paradoxes of the Heart) have sited Freud to explain this phenomenon and why we love horror so much, which ties nicely into the opening of THE STRANGE VICE OF MRS. WARDH.

Julie eventually succumbs to George’s strong advances (and who wouldn’t?  He takes her on a dangerous motorcycle ride amongst a beautiful Austrian landscape, her hair blowing in the wind over a sweeping piano orchestra soundtrack. Then, he makes love to her and allows her to be on top!  Hellloooo Ms Fenech)! 

Unfortunately, Jean knows all about the affair between George and Julie and he blackmails her, forcing her to pay up so that her poor husband never finds out.  The best friend a girl could have, Carol offers to deliver the money to Jean so that Julie can avoid him completely but when Carol turns up dead and Julie herself escapes an attack in a parking garage, she is certain that Jean is the killer the police have been looking for.  Neil and Julie decide to take matters into their own hands and find Jean on their own terms.  Instead, they find him bleeding out in a bathtub in what looks like suicide.  But is Jean really dead?  Can Julie trust her husband?  Can anyone be trusted?

I won’t spoil the ending of the film for those who haven’t seen it, but I can promise you that our lovely brunette with the luxurious lashes that go on forever always ends up on top!  

Sergio Martino’s brilliant film appeals to the heightened emotions of the audience - especially women.  Of course I don’t want to stereotype women, but many of us do appreciate a beautiful actress who wears cute dresses and gladiator sandals, dates gorgeous men at her leisure, and considers a “diet” to mean a break from taking another lover, rather than another slice of margarita pizza. 

           

THE STRANGE VICE OF MRS. WARDH was Martino’s first giallo effort and the first of several collaborations with Fenech and Hilton. He’s a brilliant director, and easily my favorite in the giallo genre.  In THE STRANGE VICE OF MRS. WARDH, he knows when to give it his all – the murder set pieces, the nightmare and flashback sequences, and the creative and well thought-out shots.  He also knows when to let his actors take the lead, and allow the dialogue and the script to flow.  The use of sound design and music in the film is also very impressive – Julie’s heartbeat during a tense life-or-death scene late in the film is incredible.

Celebrate the last week of WOMEN IN HORROR month by watching Sergio Martio’s THE STRANGE VICE OF MRS. WARDH with your friends or a loved one, and a good Italian wine.  Ladies, you won’t be disappointed and gentleman – you can thank me for firing up your girlfriend later.

Also, please take the time to visit and check out some of the work of my wonderful female peers and colleagues:

Rebekah Frye McKendry’s Blog BEKAH’S CONFESSIONS

Jovanka Vuckovic’s new film THE CAPTURED BIRD

Jennifer Cooper’s MUSINGS OF A MORLEYSAURUS

Kristy Jett’s FRIGHT RAGS

Heather Seebach’s MOVIE REVIEWS

Sylvia and Jen Soska’s TWISTED TWINS PRODUCTIONS

HAPPY WOMEN IN HORROR MONTH!

xox

Lianne Spiderbaby

All there is to know about THE CRYING GAME

PENIS

            Surprised? The audiences watching Neil Jordan’s The Crying Game for the first time certainly were.  Neil Jordan’s film, The Crying Game (Ireland, 1992) attempts to be subversive by using the popular phallic symbol as a tool for social and political commentary.  At first, The Crying Game appears to be a breakthrough in mainstream cinema - that the film challenges compulsory gender expectations and still appeals to large audiences.  The Crying Game is a modern film made by an Irish director, involving Irish issues and characters.  The film seems to deviate from older representations of sex and gender in both Irish and Hollywood cinema.    However, the film is unable to execute it’s own intentions to be subversive in terms of gender, and it reverts back to earlier Irish films and popular Hollywood conventions.

The Crying Game represents the character of Dil in the same way Gilda is constructed in the Hollywood film Gilda from the studio era.  Both Gilda and Dil are hyper-glamorized and sexualized.  However, Dil is really a man, which promotes The Crying Game as a film that is transgressive in nature. This attempt falls apart when Dil is punished for his/her deception, and is thrown back into a traditional, patriarchal hierarchy.  Dil, as a woman-transformed is also forced to kill the only biological woman in the film.  Therefore, The Crying Game upholds the exact power relations it presumes to dismantle.

 

            Since the 1920s, Hollywood has been the dominant force of the film industry both nationally and internationally.  During the Hollywood studio era (1930s-1950s), stylistic practices and narrative logic were perfected in order to convey a story as powerfully as possible.  Hollywood had a particular “mode” of filmmaking.  I will explain what I mean by this.  In Hollywood films from the studio era, narrative logic is supported by a chain of cause and effect, where equilibrium in the film is always restored.  Goal-oriented protagonists are important and the films are subservient to a structure in which the spectator recognizes.  Overt stylization is avoided, thus film style appears transparent.  For example, continuity editing is employed, straight cuts are clean and concise, eye-line matches and shot-reverse-shots are frequently used.  Editing is completely logical and the spectator is never confused. Classical Hollywood films rely on these formal conventions to make sure the film is consistent in order to assist the viewer in understanding the film.  The content of these films generally serves to support the dominant ideology of society (for the purposes of this essay, the ideology of patriarchy is most crucial).  Hollywood films will also demonstrate closure at the end, where all questions are answered, and loose ends are tied up.  Conflict is resolved and the spectators are content and satisfied. 

            This mode of filmmaking became popular in Hollywood, and was also used in films made abroad in other countries, including Ireland. Ireland was usually depicted in films by Americans or the British, meaning Ireland rarely depicted itself as a nation on screen.  A national cinema in Ireland did not emerge until the 1970s and when it did evolve, it became a priority to make the content and style of the films drastically different from the Hollywood standard.  Another problem to tackle in the Irish film industry was how women were portrayed on screen, which was an issue for filmmakers and theorists in Hollywood as well.

Neil Jordan’s The Crying Game appears to subvert Hollywood conventions, patriarchy, and traditional gender roles.  However, it fails in it’s attempt.  This occurs because even while the film disrupts the sex/gender imperative, it still constructs a correspondence between gender identity and object of desire based on a notion of heterosexuality.  Dil is sexualized at first as a woman, and then when it is revealed that she is really a he (Dil has a penis - the attempt of disruption), Dil is forced back into male identity and punished for her/his act of deception.  Thus, the film upholds the exact power relations it is presumed to dismantle. Unfortunately, On-screen punishment of women appears years later in Neil Jordan’s The Crying Game, a film that tries to depict gender in a new light.

            The Crying Game has been the focus of much critical debate, and it has been praised for its progressive representation of gender issues due to the positive characterization of Dil, a transgendered male who dresses and lives as a woman.  As I have previously stated, my reading of The Crying Game is the exact opposite. The film attempts to deviate from the Hollywood model by giving the main female character in the film a penis, but because Dil is punished for her/his deception, the film ultimately fails in it’s original endeavor.  The way that Dil is portrayed is very similar to that of Gilda. Gilda was released in 1946, and was directed by Charles Vidor.  Gilda is set in Buenos Aires, where American Johnny Farrell (Glenn Ford) is taken in by gambling casino owner Ballin Mundson. Johnny becomes Mundson's suave right-hand-man. Before long, Mundson returns from a trip with Gilda, his new wife.  However, Johnny and Gilda have already met, they used to be romantically involved. To make Johnny jealous and earn back his love, Gilda dates and flirts with other men in front of Johnny (and behind Ballin’s back).  Ballin is forced to fake his death in order to get out of trouble due to his Nazi ties. Johnny remains loyal to Ballin and although he marries Gilda right after Ballin’s “death”, it is only to keep her under control.  Johnny psychologically abuses and punishes Gilda in order to tame her strong persona.  In the conclusion of the film, Johnny gives in to Gilda and admits that he loves her.  Ballin reappears from the dead and attempts to kill Gilda and Johnny, but fails, getting himself killed in the process.  Gilda and Johnny leave for America as a happy couple.

  

            The plot of The Crying Game and Gilda seemingly have nothing in common.  However, a closer examination demonstrates that despite Dil having male genitalia, the two characters are not so different.  I will use the term “sex” to refer to that division of human beings into male and female based on certain physical characteristics.  The term “gender” is then reserved for distinctions made on the basis of certain practices that are socially determined - such as wearing dresses and makeup.   The Crying Game’s narrative strategy involves deceiving its viewers about the significance of what is transpiring on-screen. The Crying Game attempts to place its viewers in an epistemic position in which, like Fergus, they are deceived about Dil’s sex.  Viewers are to assume that the person Fergus is falling in love with is biologically female and that Dil’s enacted gender identity is congruent with her biological sex.  

            In the first half of the film in the hostage sequence, Jody (a British soldier) and Fergus (an IRA member) develop a friendship even though Jody has been captured and his head is often covered.  Jody tells Fergus that he believes he will be killed because it is not in the IRA’s nature to let him go free.  He explains that the irony of his situation is that he wound up as a hostage because he fell for a woman (Jude, another IRA member) that he was not really attracted to: “I didn’t even fancy her... She’s not even my type” (Jordan, The Crying Game).  Jody then asks Fergus to take his wallet out and look at a photograph.  Fergus goes into Jody’s wallet and finds a picture of him with an attractive black woman (Dil).  The two men voyeuristically (in the words of Mulvey) stare at the photo and share an erotic fantasy.  Fergus states that “she would be anyone’s type”.  This photograph is the first time the audience is introduced to Dil.            

       In Vidor’s Gilda, the first time the spectators lay eyes on Gilda is when Ballin returns home with her for the first time and invites Johnny up to his bedroom to meet her.  Ballin asks the teasing question, “Are you decent, Gilda?” Gilda is seen for the first time as she flips her hair back over her shoulders in a gesture that suggests her flirty nature, overt femininity, and sexuality.  Both Johnny and Ballin stand there, staring at her, as if she is a photograph.  Like Fergus and Jody, Ballin and Johnny share in a moment of attraction to a woman both see as desirable.  

            Later in The Crying Game, Fergus is drawn to a club called The Metro, where Dil spends time.  The bartender there, Col, greets Fergus as a regular and attempts to reveal Dil’s little secret. Col is interrupted by Dil herself, who performs the song, “The Crying Game” onstage in a very glamorous, sequined dress.  Dil is a picture of the ideal “woman”.  She is feminine, her makeup is overt and perfect, and she performs on stage where everyone can look at her.  Fergus becomes transfixed by her image.  In this scene, Jordan portrays Dil as the ultimate fetish, she is a perfect product, whose body, stylized and fragmented by close-ups, is “the content of the film and the direct recipient of the male protagonist’s and the spectator’s look”. Gilda performs onstage several times in Vidor’s film.  Gilda sings and dances onstage in a gorgeous dress, just as Dil does.  When Gilda sings onstage, the significant action of her performing is deferred because the narrative freezes for the duration of the whole song, like it does for Dil in The Crying Game.  These musical interludes provide pleasure, in Mulvey’s paradigm of spectatorship, as “erotic spectacle” which fetishizes the women and thus plays to and signifies male desire.

 

            The revelation of Dil’s sex occurs during a scene in which Dil and Fergus prepare to make love.  Up until this part of the film, Neil Jordan has constructed and portrayed Dil using the same conventions of femininity as are used in Gilda.  Both Gilda and Dil embody all the typical female gendered attributes.  So, when it is revealed that Dil is actually biologically a male, The Crying Game appears to be subverting films like Gilda, The Quiet Man, and the conventional narratives of Hollywood and Ireland.  In this “lovemaking” scene, Fergus and Dil have just returned to her apartment.  Dil changes into a red slip in her bathroom, and as Fergus removes it, the camera pans from Dil’s face down to her body: a shot taken from Fergus’ point of view exposes first a chest with no breasts and then a penis.  Fergus pushes Dil to the ground, rushes to the bathroom, and is sick. Fergus’ desire is now blocked. This scene sets out to accomplish a reconstruction of gender identity and sexuality, and it does so with success.  However, what occurs after this scene is the punishment of Dil’s character, as well as the complete destruction of Jude, the only biological woman in the film.

            Jude tracks Fergus down in London and pays him a surprise visit on night.  Instead of killing him (for failing in the IRA mission involving Jody at the beginning), she decides to send him on a suicide mission, with the threat to harm Dil if he does not agree.  Fergus still feels he needs to protect Dil, so he agrees.  Jude very clearly represents  a “character type” that recalls studio Hollywood: the film noir femme fatale.  She tempts men with her sexuality and destroys them when they resist her.  She must be “recuperated by either her annihilation of her final restoration as good within the patriarchal order”. The use of a masculinizing gun which Jude carries in her purse, and femme fatale costuming constructs Jude as owning a threatening power that must be destroyed, according to Mulvey’s theory.  Jude is eventually punished in the film - she is shot dead by Dil.  With this, The Crying Game has reverted back to the dominant patriarchy and conventions of earlier Hollywood and Irish cinema.  bell hooks argues, that through the extended antagonism between Jude and Dil, and Dil’s eventual murder of Jude, the film symbolically pits “real” women against transgendered women. This suggests that transgendered women desire the annihilation of “real women” (hooks, 106). The Crying Game completely erases the only biological female in the film.  Due to the fact that Jude is punished for her femininity, and then is killed by Dil, suggests that men who act and dress as women make better women than biological females - that is, that males function as the ideal women.  

            Before the moment at the end of the film when Dil kills Jude, Dil has already served her ultimate punishment.  To protect Dil before the suicide mission he never goes through with, Fergus disguises Dil as a man, thus aligning her sex and her gender.  To make her masculine, he takes her to the beauty salon where she works and proceeds to cut her hair off.  He then takes Dil back to her apartment where he has her dress in men’s clothing.  Dil suffers the loss of what she cherishes most: her performed femininity, what makes her a woman.  She begs and pleads with Fergus not to cut her hair, although he is doing it to protect her, he does it anyway.  Fergus becomes the unemotional, rational, protective man, and Dil is subdued into the torn, little woman who will do anything for her man.  Once again, Dil has reverting back to being represented like Gilda and Mary Kate where the men in their lives are of utmost importance.  As Fergus protects and takes care of Dil, both characters are placed back into traditional hierarchical gender positions. 

        Although Fergus punishes Dil for her deception by making her look like her biological sex (male), he again comes to her rescue by taking the blame for the death of Jude.  Fergus tells Dil to leave the apartment as he waits for the police to arrive.  In Gilda, Johnny also comes to her rescue.  Johnny punishes Gilda several times in the film, making it impossible for her to live her life, but in the end he confesses that he loves her and the couple live happily ever after.  At the end of The Crying Game, Fergus is now a prisoner in a British jail.  Dil plays the devoted wife role and comes to visit him.  The film ends with Lyle Lovett’s rendition of the Tammy Wynette

song, “Stand By Your Man”, which serves to reinforce patriarchy and Dil’s allegiance to Fergus.

            Neil Jordan’s The Crying Game was released in 1992 and it did extremely well.  The film was recognized by critics and spectators worldwide.  Many critics praised the film for being transgressive in nature and depicting the main character as transgendered.  With The Crying Game, Irish cinema attempted to separate itself from earlier Irish films, and Hollywood.  However, the film ends up reverting back to old cinematic roots.  The Crying Game ultimately fails in what it initially set out to accomplish: a reconstruction of gender identity and sexuality in Irish national cinema.  This should not stop you from seeing the film, though.  I am simplying discussing The Crying Game in terms of sexualization and feminist film theory.

The Crying Game is by far one of my all time FAVOURITE films.  Check it out.

xox

Lianne Spiderbaby

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY!

 

Hello, friends!

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY!

Cut out the valentine cards above, and paste them to the back of their sweet messages.  Give them to your friends, family, and loved ones!

Remember fellas, the way to a girl's heart is NOT by ripping it out, even if it's done with a super cool knife and you're wearing the most perfect black, giallo-esque gloves!

xox

your true love,

Lianne Spiderbaby

FANGORIA #301

 

Be sure to check out the new issue of FANGORIA (#301) for my reviews of Meir Zarchi's I SPIT ON YOUR GRAVE (1978) and Steven Monroe's I SPIT ON YOUR GRAVE the remake (2010).  Also check back here and www.fangoria.com  for a supplementary article I wrote that will knock you off your socks - pretty controversial stuff, friends!  Check back soon!

xox

Lianne Spiderbaby