Star Wars: A New Hope for Cinema

It began as a love letter to a childhood obsession. Over the course of three decades it developed into a six picture series that would not only change the course of cinematic narrative during the late 1970’s but would simultaneously become a game changer in the world of movie marketing, visual effects and sound design. More importantly, however, is its influence upon multiple genre styles of the coming decades that include adventure, science fiction and fantasy. It is these influences that George Lucas calls upon in creating his epic that drives his narrative and creates the lasting legacy of the series. George Lucas’ Star Wars changed the direction of cinema while simultaneously creating a modern myth drawing upon themes that parallel religion, literature, ancient mythology and world history.

The escalating social turmoil of the 1960’s in America flooded into the next decade. The previous ten years included multiple assassinations including President John F. Kennedy, Robert F. Kennedy, Martin Luther King Jr. and Malcolm X. 1967’s “Summer of Love” had come and gone and the flower-power generation, with their attitude of “heady optimism” (Reynolds) began to wane. The decade ended with an air of pessimism that began to take hold in America. The Tate, LaBianca murders in 1969 at the hands of Charles Manson and his “family” exposed to the public the dark side of the Hippie counter-culture movement. The 1970 tragedy at Kent State and the 1971 riot at the Attica correctional facility in upstate New York represented the social upheaval of those without a voice. Compounding the social zeitgeist was America’s increasing involvement in Vietnam as an unveiled attempt to crush Communism, the realization of the plight of returning veterans and the resignation of President Nixon due to the Watergate scandal. Wide spread mass calamity left America with a cynical, abject distrust of not only its government but also the direction in which the country was headed. Cinema would become the reflection.

Pictures of the early 1970’s, with their bleak, stark reality brought the “auteur theory” to center stage. Cinematic narrative was being re-defined, as downtrodden anti-heroes became the subject of analysis for mainstream cinema. Francis Ford Coppola’s The Godfather (1972) examines the genre of the gangster film through the eyes of Al Pacino’s reluctant “Michael Corleone”. Jack Nicholson’s “J.J. Gittes” in Roman Polanski’s Chinatown (1974) is a “Film Noir” throwback to early cinema the likes of Howard Hawkes’ The Big Sleep while Martin Scorsese’s Taxi Driver (1976) tells the tale of Robert De Niro’s disturbed Vietnam veteran “Travis Bickle”. All the while, an idea was developing in the mind of a filmmaker that would change the course of cinema both technically and stylistically the effects of which resonate in modern cinema.

George Lucas had already made his mark upon Hollywood prior to the 1977 release of Star Wars. Unfortunately, that impact was not entirely positive. While it is true that Lucas’ American Graffiti (1973) was both a financial and critical success, Roger Ebert referred to it as “…a brilliant work of historical fiction…”(Roger Ebert), his previous film, the avant-garde THX-1138, left the Lucas/Coppola backed studio American Zoetrope nearly bankrupt when Warner Brothers demanded their initial investment be returned.
However, George Lucas would not be deterred. He would soon find inspiration in the serials of his childhood the likes of Flash Gordon while simultaneously expanding his vision creating a layered work that hinges upon multiple layers of symbolism, not the least of which is human kind’s faith in religion.

The religious underpinnings at work in Star Wars’ six entries are impossible to ignore while simultaneously being as difficult to pinpoint. Star Wars is a veritable menagerie of religious symbolism ranging from Christianity to Judaism and Islam in the West and philosophical means of thought found in Eastern beliefs. Just when the viewer feels they have a grasp toward one particular answer, evidence can be found to refute that conclusion. Is Star Wars an ambiguous, muddled mixture of world religions? Is it a dissertation on the nature of good vs. evil or a Christian allegorical examination of Anakin Skywalker’s fall from grace and subsequent redemption? As with all art, the answer tends to hinge on one’s own point of view.

The final scene of Star Wars: Episode III-Revenge of the Sith is often viewed as a representation of the Nativity that is integral to the Christian faith. “A wise man rides in from the desert on a camel-like creature. He presents an infant — perhaps the “chosen one” who will redeem the universe, according to prophecy — to his adoptive parents. The question is inescapable: Is little Luke Skywalker a stand-in for Jesus?” (Houston Chronicle) To an attentive viewer with only a very basic knowledge of Christianity, the answer should come quite easily with an unequivocal no. Luke Skywalker is not born of a virgin birth the likes of Jesus from his mother, Mary, nor during the entire original trilogy that includes Star Wars, The Empire Strikes Back (1980) and Return of the Jedi (1983) is Luke referred to as the “chosen one”. Furthermore, as John Yakes, a Catholic priest and author of Star Wars and the Message of Jesus: An Interpretive Commentary on the Star Wars Trilogy, Luke “…saves the galaxy, but he does not herald the end of an age or a final, divine judgment” (John Yakes).

Others see a parallel between Luke Skywalker and that of baby Jesus as his mother Mary and his “father”, Joseph of Arimathea, flee to Egypt to escape King Herod’s massacre of young boys. This point of view leads the reader to see a “doubling” between Herod’s actions and the separation of Luke and Princess Leia due to the third act of Revenge of the Sith. The “Jedi Purge” occurs at the hands of Emperor Palpatine, Darth Vader and the clone troops as they attack the Jedi temple in an attempt to eradicate the universe of the undesirable, the Jedi. The scene comes to a climax as Darth Vader single-handedly murders multiple children, otherwise known as “younglings”. Subsequently, Obi-Wan Kenobi (Ewan McGregor) and Senator Organa (Jimmy Smits) take the twins to remote planets, also known as the Outer Rim, to protect their detection from not only The Empire but also that of the Dark Side’s gaze. As Alec Guinness’ Obi-Wan Kenobi states in the original film states, “If the Emperor knew as I did that if Anakin were ever to have any offspring, they would be a threat to him.” (Star Wars) Again, however, the fact remains that the Christian symbolism is misplaced. Luke Skywalker is not the character most representative of the Christian faith in George Lucas’ opus. It is in the character arc of Luke’s father, Anakin Skywalker that most closely parallels that of Christ.

The prequel trilogy first introduces Anakin (Jake Lloyd) in Star Wars: Episode I-The Phantom Menace. Qui-Gon Jinn (Liam Neeson) discovers Anakin at the age of ten and quickly realizes through a conversation with his mother, Shmi Skywalker (Pernilla August) that there is more to Anakn than meets the eye. Qui-Gon inquires who Anakin’s father is. Shmi’s response is that “there was no father. I carried him, I gave birth, I raised him. I can’t explain what happened” (The Phantom Menace). Qui-Gon Jinn goes on to explain to young Anakin, and also the audience, the nature of a new introduction into the saga, the Midichlorians. Qui-Gon Jinn describes the Midichlorians as an element that exists in all life, the escalating count of which seems to implicate an individuals’ connection to “the force”. Anakin’s unheard of Midichlorian count, exceeding that of Jedi Master Yoda, leads Qui-Gon to believe that this boy is the fulfillment of a prophecy that will bring “the force” back into balance and create harmony in the Universe. Qui-Gon makes a comment stating that if Anakin “…had been born in the Republic they would have identified him early” (The Phantom Menace). This line of dialogue would become a revelation during the third act of George Lucas’ prequel trilogy.
T
he opera scene midway through Revenge of the Sith features a conversation between Palpatine and Anakin in which the circumstances surrounding Anakin’s birth come into focus. Palpatine tells the tragedy of Darth Plageus the Wise. He reveals that Plageus was a “Dark Lord of the Sith, so strong and so powerful that he could manipulate the Midichlorians into creating life” (Revenge of the Sith). Unfortunately, for Darth Plageus, he has taught his apprentice the secret of this power and in true Sith form, Plageus’ apprentice assassinates him in his sleep. The subtext during the scene is that Palpatine is that very apprentice. Palpatine’s ability to create life has far reaching religious implications, the most obvious of which is Anakin’s parentage. While the Jedi are clearly an indication of an unnamed religion, Palpatine is now implicated as not only Anakin’s father but also a divine figure that emulates that of the Christian God.
Anakin Skywalker’s path, however, will vere from that of Christ as he becomes a fallen angel and in turn becomes a symbol of Lucifer, otherwise known as the Christian Devil. As told in John Milton’s Paradise Lost, Lucifer was once one of God’s most beautiful and favored angels. But Lucifer’s conceit and his lust for power over God caused him to wage war on Heaven. Defeated, he was cast out and created his own kingdom. That kingdom would become what Christians know as Hell. Anakin’s fall, like that of Lucifer, is a result of his own pride and arrogance. Hence, it is no coincidence that Anakin must face the ramifications of his actions in a fight to the death with his former friend and mentor, Obi-Wan Kenobi, on the outward planet of Mustafar, a volcanic planet that is not only reminiscent of apocalyptic imagery but is also representative of the rage that is driving Anakin’s hatred resulting in his own damnation.

All the while, Star Wars evokes Eastern religions in a more philosophical manner. “The Force” can be viewed Taoist fashion as an energy that connects all humans. Meanwhile, Dharma of Star Wars author, Matthew Bortolin sees a Buddhist aspect to the saga in the “…mindfulness, concentration, letting go and general meditation…” (Bortolin). Religious symbolism is a key factor in the Star Wars saga. It layers the series in a way that allows for coming generations to find something that modern scholars may miss. However, religion is only one factor. A discussion of Star Wars would be remiss without analyzing Lucas’ reliance upon ancient mythology, the hero’s journey and the work of Joseph Campbell.

From a mythological point of view, Star Wars can be seen as a veritable archeological dig as each layer that is revealed offers new discovery at work in Lucas’ narrative. The light saber can be seen as a reference to King Arthur and the discovery of Excalibur. As the reader delves further into the mythos one can find The Rebellion’s attack on the Death Star as an allegory for the Greek hero Odysseus and his entry into the underworld.

The connection between Star Wars and mythology is strengthened by mythological professor and historian Joseph Campbell and his definition of the monomyth, otherwise known as “The Hero’s Journey” (Campbell). “The Hero’s Journey” is an initiatory pattern that represents a transition moving from one identity to another. The Star Wars saga focuses Campbell’s model of “The Hero’s Journey” upon both Anakin Skywalker and his son Luke. Each are called to action, being drawn into a struggle between good and evil. However, it is the diverging paths taken by each that will define their characters.

Luke Skywalker begins his journey as a naïve farm boy struggling with, what he feels, is a wasted life. Campbell’s “Call to Adventure” in The Hero with 1000 Faces is an event that pulls us away from the familiar. It challenges the hero to become more than what he is on the journey to what he always knew he could become. Luke Skywalker’s encounter with Obi-Wan during A New Hope reflects this first step. This first step is often a reluctant one to take. The beginning of Luke’s journey is reminiscent of Odysseus’ call in Homer’s The Odyssey, however, the loss of Luke’s Aunt and Uncle drives him to accept the calling.

The Cantina scene continues “The Hero’s Journey” with Joseph Campbell’s notion of “The Threshold Crossing” (Campbell). “The Threshold Crossing” is a moment when the hero realizes that he or she is in a world that is completely foreign to them. It is a moment when the hero breaks free from their former selves while realizing the struggles that they will face.
“The Threshold Crossing” can also be seen in Greek mythology in the tale of Hercules. After the murder of his wife and children by his own hand, Hercules prays to Apollo who sentences him to twelve labors ranging from the defeat of the Nemean Lion to the kidnapping of Cerberus. These struggles and tasks develop Hercules as a character. Likewise, Luke is placed in the same position of having to pass tests as he rescues Princess Leia from the clutches of Darth Vader and plays a key role in the destruction of the Death Star. The passing of tests prepares the hero for what is inevitably an escalating and seemingly insurmountable confrontation. Luke Skywalker’s final test will come during The Empire Strikes Back as he not only faces Darth Vader, but in what of the greatest revelations in cinematic history, his own father.

The struggle between father and son is ever present in Greek mythology. Hesiod’s Theogony describes the ruler of the universe, Uranus, being overthrown by his son, Cronus, who’s son, Zeus, in turn usurps his power. Sophocles’ play Oedipus the King depicts the King of Tebes, Laius, as an oracle tells him that he would be killed by his son. Subsequently, Laius leaves his son, Oedipus, out on the mountainside to die. Oedipus is rescued by a shepherd and taken to the king of Corinth who raises him as his own son. The Delphic oracle, in turn, tells Oedipus, that he will kill his father and marry his mother. However, while the father may be an adversary, a father figure will always emerge in the form of the mentor.

The mythic tradition of the mentor is represented in the roles of Yoda, Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi. These characters represent the wisdom, knowledge and spiritual guidance bestowed upon the hero. The dynamic between Luke and Obi-Wan can once again be seen Lucas’ references to Greek mythology. As Odysseus embarks on his journeys, he is ever concerned for his son Telemachus. Odysseus asks an old friend, named Mentor, to look upon his son from time to time. From this story, the English definition of the word “mentor” was derived. However, the mentor does not always come in the form we may expect. Perhaps, that is part of the evolutionary enlightenment of the hero.

The mentor often appears in many shapes and forms. The Empire Strikes Back introduces a pivotal character in the Star Wars mythos. The 900 year-old Yoda is not only Luke’s teacher and mentor but also an archetype that dates back to Achilles’ teachings by Chiron, a half man, half horse creature otherwise known as a centaur. Achilles learns not only warfare, but also music and speech from a creature bears little resemblance to him and yet he trusts Chiron as if he were his own father.

Crucial in “The Hero’s Journey” is the presentation of an object. Typically, this object is a weapon of some kind. In Star Wars, that presentation is made by Luke’s mentor, Obi-Wan Kenobi, in the form of his father’s light saber. However, the gift does not have to be tangible. The knowledge of “the force” gained by Luke is arguably more important than any weapon he could wield. The weapon need only be important in the struggles to come, because, unfortunately, during “The Hero’s Journey”, the mentor cannot remain.
Whether it is Luke Skywalker’s loss of Obi-Wan Kenobi or Obi-Wan’s loss of Qui-Gon Jinn, the loss of the mentor is an important step along the journey. It is only in their loss that the hero truly learns what they have learned. George Lucas realizes, as Joseph Campbell did, that the mythological hero must accept the fact that they will out live their own hero. We will never be without a need for a mentor or a teacher in life. What Star Wars teaches us is that if someone stretches out a helping hand, don’t look down to see if that hand is green, just take the hand.

The vast mythological references that George Lucas is drawing upon in his Star Wars saga cannot be completely defined due to the fact that he is creating modern mythology through each of his films. In doing so, Lucas is inviting his audience to come with him on the journey. The result of which is that the reader finds connections to not only mythology and ancient religion but also parallels to modern history.

Historical metaphors are featured throughout each of the Star Wars films. The presidency of George W. Bush resonates in Revenge of the Sith. Just prior his climactic battle with Obi-Wan, Anakin states, “If you’re not with me than you are my enemy” (Revenge of the Sith). It is impossible to hear this line and not relate it to Bush’s post 9/11 speech in which he says, “Either you are with us or you are with the terrorists”. The Jedai Geki and the samurai culture of Japan is also often referenced in the series, however, one historical period continuously resonates throughout each picture.

At the center of the story is the scheming Darth Sidious disguised as Senator Palpatine. He uses the Republics fear of rebellion and war to gain absolute power. The most direct parallel is Germany in the 1930’s, the rise of Adolf Hitler and the actions of the Nazi party.

It begins with the Senate’s ratification of emergency powers bestowed upon Palpatine in Attack of the Clones. This is precisely what Hitler requested in 1933 with what is known as the Enabling Act. Both would-be dictators gain the trust and love of their subjects by claiming they will lay down their new powers once they are no longer needed. However, history shows us that whether you are discussing Adolf Hitler, Uganda’s Idi Amin or Saddam Hussein, once emergency powers are given they are rarely returned.

Palpatine’s first step is to create a massive army in order to counter the threat posed by the developing Separatist army. The army is made up of clones derived from one host, a bounty hunter named Jango Fett. They are faceless, clad mostly in white and obedient without question. The clones will eventually become known as the Storm Troopers as The Empire establishes its power. Aside from the obvious parallel of Hitler’s racist regime and the fact that Hitler’s shock troops that assisted in his rise to power were known Storm Troopers, Lucas’ Storm Troopers are often viewed as a symbolic incarnation of the German people. The Clones are obedient to a fault. This is evident in Revenge of the Sith as Clone Commander Captain Cody turns on General Kenobi upon receiving Order 66 from Emperor Palpatine, thereby beginning Lucas’ representation of the Jewish holocaust, The Jedi Purge. The German people were not ignorant of the atrocities being committed by Hitler’s regime however; their loyalty to the Fuhrer caused them to turn a blind eye.

Nazi Germany’s influence upon Star Wars can further be seen in how Lucas differentiates the Rebellion and the Empire. The Empire is sterile and lifeless. It is not a coincidence that women do not exist within the Empire. Women are associated with life, care giving, rejuvenation and nature whereas the Empire is evocative of death, destruction and violence.

However, women serve a key role in the Rebellion’s fight against tyranny not only in the character of Princess Leia but also in Return of the Jedi’s Mon Mothma and Revenge of the Sith’s Padme Amidala as she and Senator Organa sew the seeds of what will become The Rebellion.

Likewise, The Rebellion is not only racially diverse but also zoologically inclusive. This reaching across boundaries can be seen in World War II as the Allies represented cultural diversity representing varying value structures that came together to defeat a common threat, that of Nazi Germany.

Whether he is referencing the “upside down cole kettle” helmet evident in both the Nazi uniform and Darth Vader’s mechanical mask, the uniformity found in Hitler’s army and the Clone troop’s march or in how red, black and white, the colors of the “Blood Flag”, are featured in The Emperor’s throne room during the later scenes of Return of the Jedi, Lucas is using his narrative to remind his viewer of how easily a culture can fall and find itself in darkness.

With its themes ranging from religion to ancient mythology to recent history, George Lucas’ Star Wars has, in turn, created a mythology of its own. It changed the course of cinema but just as importantly, it created a legend that over the course of its telling evolves into a literate story while avoiding the trap of being literal which allows future generations to relate to it in their own way.

Is that a Machete in Your Pocket or are You Just Happy to See Me?

Horror has been a form of cinema since the era of Classical Hollywood. The gothic style of the 1930’s produced Tod Browning’s Dracula (1931), James Whale’s Frankenstein (1931) and George Waggner’s Wolfman. As the genre progressed it developed a history of being reviled by the Hollywood mainstream as a decadent, perverse genre that glorifies violence, revels in gratuitous nudity while churning out mere product that halts the evolution of the medium. However, as one delves deeper into a reading of the genre the viewer finds a disturbing world of gender stereotypes based upon a patriarchal, heterosexual society, a society that forces women into a submissive role based upon the target audience of the genre. However, as the genre has progressed into a world in which women can take ownership of their sexuality and become the heroine in the end, the subtext turns the women upon themselves. The modern horror film examines the role of the monstrous-feminine while simultaneously examining the misogynistic attitude perpetrated upon women and the repercussions that follow.

The American horror film has long been a breeding ground for broad characterizations and stereotypes. For evidence of this trend one need not look further than the genre’s treatment of women. Faye Ray’s “Ann Darrow” in Merian C. Cooper’s King Kong (1933) is often seen, through no fault of her own, as responsible for the destruction of New York due to “Kong’s” infatuation with her. The 1960’s would open with Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho. Janet Leigh’s “Marion Crane” is portrayed as a promiscuous criminal whose iconic murder in a shower at The Bate’s Motel is presented as rightful punishment for her actions. However, it is the slasher sub-genre of horror that emerged in the later half of the 1970’s that would help define and subsequently cement gender stereotypes in regards to the treatment of women within the genre.
The slasher film, loosely defined by former Fangoria editor in chief Tony Timpone as a film with a body count (dir. Farrands 2009), finds its roots in European cinema with Mario Bava’s Twitch of the Death Nerve. However, it is John Carpenter’s Halloween (1978) and Sean Cunningham’s Friday the 13th (1980) that will influence cinema for the next decade. The women in these films and their subsequent sequels become carbon copies of one another. Their characters blend into one stereotype, that of the promiscuous, drug and alcohol-abusing teenager who is murdered by the faceless killer. As the series progress, the films escalate in violence toward the female characters as spectacle replaces the lack of a narrative through-line. The result is the condemnation of women who embrace their sexuality while simultaneously glorifying the men as conquerors of the monstrous-feminine.

As a genre, horror has a history of focusing upon its male viewers as they make up the vast majority of the viewing audience. As the audience begins to identify with the killer through the often used Point of View, or POV shot, they must eventually realize that the monster and his female victims have more in common than not. They each represent a form of “the other”. While the imagery of the monstrous killer can be negatively aestheticized, the female characters’ stereotypical behavior also makes them something to be feared and ultimately something to be destroyed.

The importance of the male audience is further inflated due to the fact that the filmmakers, who are overwhelming male, are pervading the objectification of the female characters in these types of films. Laura Mulvey’s 1975 essay, “Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema”, examines the “male gaze” as the male controlled camera lingers over the female form in a voyuerstic style, producing an erotically charged reaction from not only the characters within the picture but also from the male audience. The result is an uneven distribution of power within the narrative that depicts women as existing only for male gratification. However, this balance of power will be short lived. The male audience’s false sense of power will soon come crashing down with one narrative trope;s that reverses the power struggle, that of the Final Girl.
The figure of the Final Girl is presented in stark contrast to that of her hyper-sexualized counterparts. On the surface, the Final Girl is depicted as the smartest of the female characters. She is a virginal figure who abstains from the behavior deemed impure by the patriarchal world the women inhabit. Carol Clover goes on to describe the Final Girl in her book Men, Women and Chainsaws: Gender in the Modern Horror Film as:

The image of the distressed female most likely to linger in memory is the image of the one who did not die: the survivor, or Final Girl. She is the one who encounters the mutilated bodies of her friends and perceives the full extent of the preceding horror and of her own peril; who is chased, cornered, wounded; whom we see scream, stagger, fall, rise, and scream again. She is abject terror personified. If her friends knew they were about to die only seconds before the event, the Final Girl lives with the knowledge for long minutes or hours. She alone looks death in the face, but she alone also finds the strength either to stay the killer long enough to be rescued (ending A) or to kill him herself (ending B). But in either case, from 1974 on, the survivor figure has been female. (Clover 35)

The Final Girl is further removed from her female counterparts as her sexuality is all but removed resulting in an ambiguous gender identity. She is portrayed as “the Girl Scout, the bookworm, the mechanic”, “boyish” and “not fully feminine… in the ways of her friends” (Clover 39-40). Clover goes on to describe the figure as the sole survivor due to her “smartness, gravity, competence in mechanical and other practical matters, and sexual reluctance” (Clover 39-40). Clover further says:
Thus, the Final Girl’s masculinized nature could also be symptomatic of the male spectator identifying with the Final Girl’s masculinity. This is due to the male audience’s unconscious refusal of accepting the social stereotypical view of passive, inferior females and active, responsible males. Rather, the adolescent male spectator is diverging from the sadistic-voyeuristic relationship between the slasher and male viewer, participating with the Final Girl in a desirable shared experience of masculinity and self-importance (Clover 151-152).

Finally, Clover underscores how the Final Girl becomes masculinized as she states, “Lest we miss the point, it is spelled out in her name: Stevie, Marti, Terri, Laurie, Stretch, Will, Joey, Max” (Clover 39-40).

The sexual differentiation between the Final Girl and her female counterparts continues to deepen as the narrative hurtles toward the conclusion. Tony Williams’ “Hearths of Darkness: The Family in the American Horror Film” describes the monster as a:

“…sadist who unconsciously releases sexual repressed desires and castrates the female victim with his phallic weapon. However, the sexually active female victim or ‘bad girl’ could be argued to occupy a masochistic position. Thus, her castration implies that she receives sexual pleasure from unconscious fantasies of domination and torture from the sexually repressed slasher (Williams 150).

Therefore, slasher film monsters the likes of Halloween’s Michael Myers and Friday the 13’s Jason Voorhees are representative of a patriarchal “…masculinity associated with male power, dominance and aggression, perpetuating the primordial patriarchal unconscious governed by the desire to subdue ‘woman’ and the feminine” (Neale 342).

This is not to say that the Final Girl is not immune to the genre’s misogynistic tendencies. It could be argued that the monster’s stalking of the Final Girl as well as her injuries, which are often severe, make her just as much a victim as the other women depicted in the film. However, it is the Final Girl’s courage and will to survive that is a symbolic castration of the monster.
One example that evokes not only the castration of the monster but also depicts the masculinization of the Final Girl is “Alice” in the original Friday the 13. Clover describes the climactic scene as “Alice” decapitates “Mrs. Voorhees” as a:

“…symbolic castration of the castrating mother as the murder of Mrs. Voorhees at the hands of “Alice” could be coded as a masculine victory. She is phallicised through being armed with the phallic pickaxe and decapitates the mother, punishing her as the conscious mass murderer and unconsciously for acting in a masculine fashion. Thus, these actions could be symptomatic of masculinity, especially as afterwards Alice returns to her usual role in society as a typical feminine female” (Clover 152).

The description of the scene reminds the audience that the monster need not be male in order to be the castrated victim of the Final Girl.

Further evidence of this notion could be seen in Psycho as “Mrs. Bates” emasculates her son, “Norman” or in the character “Asami” in Takashi Miike’s Audition. Female killers in these types of films are certainly the exception to the rule but it does not make a difference in the mind of the Final Girl. As Clover points out, the masculinization of the Final Girl is momentary. Unfortunately, this transformation is necessary due to the gaze of the male audience. Masculine and feminine are now converging into one form. The audience is identifying with both sides of the female protagonist as she destroys the monster. Subsequently, they are simultaneously witnessing their own symbolic castration.

Even so, if the Final Girl were progressing into one symbiotic character, would the reverse not also be true? The re-emergence of the slasher film began in 1996 with Wes Craven’s Scream. The film becomes a postmodernist take on the genre as “Sidney Prescott” (Neve Campbell) is not only sexually attractive but also loses her virginity during the course of the film to her boyfriend, and the eventually realized killer, “Billy” (Skeet Ulrich). The finale culminates as “Sidney” has embodied the notion of the masculinized Final Girl in spite of her now misconceived Patriarchal impurity. In the end, “Sidney” takes on the persona of the killer herself, donning the very costume worn by the masked maniacs. She finally castrates “Billy” with her phallic umbrella before ultimately shooting the monster in the head. All the while this sexualized Final Girl is joined by her Final Boys, “Randy” (Jamie Kennedy) and “Sheriff Dewie” (David Arquette).

While the over-sexualized female and the Final Girl are certainly important characterizations in the horror genre, it would be short-sighted to reduce the role of women in horror to two possibilities. Roles exist that depict women as strong characters who embrace their sexuality. One need look no further than the oldest independent studio in the world to find evidence of this fact. Founded in 1975 by Lloyd Kauffman and Michael Hertz, Troma Entertainment has long prided itself on its treatment of women as both strong heroine’s who do not shy away from their sexuality. Deeply seeded in exploitation, Troma’s depiction of women is that of headstrong characters who use their femininity to take advantage of depraved and unimaginable situations. Troma’s most recent film, Lloyd Kaufman’s Poultrygeist: Night of the Chicken Dead (2006) is not only its most critically lauded film, Owen Gleiberman of Entertainment Weekly referred to it as a “…soft-core scatological zombie kitsch musical complete with social commentary” (Gleiberman). In spite of this glowing review it is also the company’s most successful film in its treatment of women. An indictment of the fast-food industry, Poultrygeist stars Kate Graham as Wendy, former girlfriend of Arbie (Jason Yachinin) who is now involved in a love triangle with her new girlfriend Micki (Allyson Sereboff). The film depicts sex scenes that skirt the line between acceptable exploitation and a parody of pornography. Wendy and Micki are often seen in various stages of undress as Arbie watches with sexual gratification. Upon first glance, these scenes could be seen as misogynistic, the way Robert De Palma depicts the opening locker room scene in Carrie (1976) as a boyhood fantasy. However the picture never depicts the women as sexual objects the way De Palma’s film does. In fact, Arbie is the character depicted as a mockery of the “male gaze”. Furthermore, it is Wendy who discovers the chicken zombie’s weakness as Arbie cowers in fear.

Film often uses absurdity to point out the flaws in the industry’s own stereotypical depiction of character archetypes. Poultrygeist: Night of the Chicken Dead presents its female protagonist as a strong woman who is in touch with her sexuality. It is merely another aspect of her life that does not deter her from becoming the heroine in a world gone mad with chicken zombies.

Seriously, you can’t make this stuff up!

While, the slasher sub-genre still exists, mainly in foreign and domestic remakes or found footage films, every so often the genre proves its ability to move beyond a female protagonist that must be defined by her sexuality. Sigourney Weaver’s “Ellen Ripley” in Ridley Scott’s Alien (1979) is the prototype for Linda Hamilton’s “Sarah Connor” in James Cameron’s Terminator (1984). Quentin Tarantino’s “Final Girls” in Death Proof (2007) give “Stuntman Mike” (Kurt Russell) his comeuppance without ever becoming masculinized. Likewise, a film that was released during the resurgence of teen horror the likes of Final Destination (2000), Saw (2004) and their subsequent sequels would depict women as brave and intelligent people who do not need a man to prove their worth. However, their actions toward one another could be seen as the reason for the very existence of the murderous creatures they must defend themselves against.
Neil Marshall’s 2005 film The Descent is a film about a group of women whose spelunking expedition goes horribly wrong in ways they could not possibly imagine. The six women delve deeper and deeper into a series of caves. The film becomes claustrophobic and uncomfortable. And then the unforeseeable happens. The women come upon a humanoid/zombie/cannibalistic hybrid. What is being depicted is what Julia Kristeva refers to as the abject. In Powers of Horror, Kristeva writes that, “Abjection preserves what existed in the archaism of pre-objectal relationship, in the immemorial violence with which a body becomes separated from another body in order to be” (Kristeva 10). The women fall into pools of blood as they scurry across the skeletal remains of former victims. Kristeva goes on to explain “by way of abjection, primitive societies have marked out a precise area of their culture in order to remove it from the threatening world of animals or animalism, which were imagined as representatives of sex and murder” (Powers 12-13). The six women have delved too deep into the creature’s world and they now become the visual manifestation of the women’s character relationships.

What is initially alarming is that the women seem to dismiss alarming clues that something is a clearly amiss. Upon entering the cave, Sarah (Shauna MacDonald) notices a bloody streak reminiscent of a fingerprint. Sarah decides against telling her companions about the curious mark as to not destroy the gang’s expedition. The audience understands her motivations and therefore forgives her without knowing the ultimate conclusion. During Beth’s (Alex Reid) death at the hands of Juno (Natalie Mendoza), Beth does not mention the act of killing her but rather Juno’s betrayal of her friend by leaving her alone to die. When Sarah comes upon Beth’s dying body Beth does not say that Juno killed her with an icepack but rather states, “She left me” (Dir. Neil Marshall). As the secrets between the groups begin to come out they begin to descend into madness due to their stress and fear. The film suddenly pits female against female. Juno’s affair with Sarah’s deceased husband becomes the turning point and in spite of Juno’s deception, the audience feels a compassion for her as Sarah exacts her bloody revenge leaving “Juno” to be devoured by the nocturnal cannibals.

In The Descent, the cannibals are not the monsters. They are the embodiment of the way the six women react toward one anther. Carol Creed might say that the women have masculinized themselves. They have delved too deep into what can only be called a womb. In this womb they have tapped into the primal while the audience has replaced identification with the protagonists and forgiveness for understandable behavior with revulsion against the primal state to which the women have devolved. Yes, it is commendable that these are smart women, who keep their clothes on and run in the right direction. Unfortunately, the film still portrays them as victims, not of the monstrous creatures but of their unforgiveable, stereotypical behavior toward one another.

A feminist analysis of the horror genre shows that the role of women in these types of films is not reduced to that of sexualized object or the castrated victim of the phallis wielding monster. She can be a powerful figure that juxtaposes the patriarchal oppression placed upon her with her own strength in the moment while simultaneously using the “male gaze” against the audience in a reversal of the voyeuristic violation being perpetrated against her.