Monday, 4 November 2024
Thursday, 8 December 2022
The Northman - An analysis of pagan scenes
Further to my written review of The Northman (2022), published on this blog in April, I have now created a much longer and more detailed video review of the film. This video includes close watching scene analysis of all the parts of the film which pertain to Nordic paganism. I explain the sources and reasoning behind the stylistic and thematic decisions of the film makers and provide examples of written and archaeological precedents to justify them wherever possible.
Robert Eggers' The Northman is the best Viking film ever made but some of the pagan themes within are too esoteric for everyone to understand. In this review, I explain the origin of the pagan rituals and symbols throughout the film and what they mean. Everything from valkyries, to the raven fylgja, the horned spear dancer, and the Odinic initiation ritual in a Neolithic barrow. I also explain the tension depicted in the film between the cults of the gods Freyr and Odin.
ARTWORK
Horned spear dancers by Hungerstein
Wading through Hell by Jack Jones
Hel goddess by Leo Albiero
World tree by Pete Amachree
Spirit of Yule by Christopher Steininger
Mimir’s head by Graman
Vendel helmet cgi by Roy Douglas
Bear spirit and corpse animations by Castor and Bollux animation
MUSIC
SOURCES
Primary
- Gesta Danorum by Saxo Grammaticus
- Germania by Tacitus
- Risala by Ibn Fadlan
- Egil’s saga
- Njal’s saga
- Vatnsdæla saga
- Eyrbyggja saga
- Landnámabók
- Sturlaugs saga starfsama
- Gautreks saga
- Grettir's saga
- Saga of Bósa and Herraud
- Víga-Glúms saga
- Heimskringla
- Beowulf
- Hervarar saga
Secondary
- Chadwick, N., ‘Dreams in Early European Literature’, in: Carney, James, and David Greene (eds), Celtic studies: essays in memory of Angus Matheson 1912–1962, London: Routledge, 1968. 33–50.
- Davidson, H.E., Gods and Myths of Northern Europe (1964)
- Davidson, H.E., The Road to Hel: A Study of the Conception of the Dead in Old Norse Literature, Cambridge University, (1943).
- Peter-Schjødt, J., ‘Óðinn - The Pervert?’ in Res Artes et Religio: Essays in Honour of Rudolf Simek p. 534 (2021: Kısmet Press) https://archive.org/details/res-artes-et-religio-essays-in-honour-of-rudolf-simek-kismet-press
- Ramos, Eduardo, ‘The Dreams of a Bear: Animal Traditions in the Old Norse-Icelandic Context’ (2014)
- Rowsell, T., “Riding to the Afterlife:The Role of Horses in Early Medieval North-Western Europe,” MA Thesis, University College of London, 2012.
- Rowsell, T., “Woden and his Roles in Anglo-Saxon Royal Genealogy”, University College London, (2012).
- Rowsell, T., "Religious Continuity in Northern European Boat Burial Practices of the Vendel Period" Research proposal, (2015)
- Rowsell, T., “Gender Roles and Symbolic Meaning in Njáls Saga” Medievalists.net 2012
- Kershaw, K., ‘The one-eyed god: Odin and the (Indo-)Germanic Männerbünde’ (Journal of Indo-European studies monograph) 2000.
Wednesday, 20 April 2022
The Northman: Pagan themes explained
So when Robert Eggers, a director whose previous two films each dealt with pagan mythology and folklore in a nuanced and thought provoking way, announced that his third film would be about Vikings, and when the trailer seemed to signal a break from the biker-viking aesthetic, I wasn’t the only one who dared to get his hopes up.
Eggers described the film as Andrei Rublev meets Conan the Barbarian; the former, Tarkovsky’s deeply philosophical biopic of a medieval Russian artist, widely praised as a masterpiece of film making, is a personal favourite of mine while the latter is the definitive sword and sorcery fantasy popcorn movie, yet to meet its match even 40 years after its release. Eggers’ boastful claim is of course promotional hyperbole but, I am pleased to announce, not too far off the mark in the sense that The Northman is indeed, consistent with Eggers’ last film The Lighthouse, a work which delves into mythology as a means to explore the dark caverns of the human psyche. Yet unlike any other of his films, it contains impressively choreographed, high octane, (and perhaps a tad gratuitously gory) action sequences which will appeal to an entirely different audience.
In a nod to the first ever story recorded in Western literature, the Odyssey, the Northman also begins with a plot summary in the form of a pagan invocation. While the immortal lines in Ancient Greek invoke the Muse, likely the goddess Calliope, the husky narration of a character later revealed to be a priest of Odin, invokes that god and then reveals exactly what is going to happen with merciless disregard for spoiler-sensitive surprise-enjoyers. This introduction is also highly reminiscent of the opening of Conan the Barbarian which presents the film as a story told by a wizened old yarn spinner, much like this Odinic priest. Right from the get-go, the very pagan theme of fate inexorably leading our protagonist to his end is introduced, and we know what must occur before we finish our popcorn.
Spoilers should not concern anyone who knows the story of Shakespeare’s Hamlet since this plot borrows from the same source Shakespeare referred to; the medieval Danish tale of Amleth recorded in the 12th century by Saxo Grammaticus. Amleth was previously adapted for the screen in Prince of Jutland (1994), starring a young Christian Bale as ‘Amled’. This formidable adaptation was more faithful to the original plot than The Northman is, but it occupied a more confined cinematic vision, without the much called-for exploration of the Viking world and the dark pagan themes central to the Nordic thought world which make the new film a modern classic. In the original medieval story, the young protagonist, after witnessing his father, the king, killed by his own uncle, feigns madness in order to save himself from the same fate, but is later sent by his suspicious uncle from Denmark to England. Eggers has replaced Denmark with the more dramatic landscape of Iceland, and England with the easternmost colony of the Viking world in Ukraine. But Eggers’ Amleth (Alexander Skarsgård) does not feign madness, rather he descends into a very real divine madness after being initiated as a wolf of Odin.
This transformation is depicted in two scenes showing separate Odinic initiation rituals each of which draws to some extent from historian Kris Kershaw’s work which connects the cult of Odin to the raiding party tradition of the Indo-Europeans. The first scene is early in the film, during Amleth’s childhood, when his father King Aurvandil War-Raven (Ethan Hawke) initiates his son into manhood with the help of the court jester, Heimir (Willem Defoe). This ‘fool’ character is not in the original story but his inclusion was a stroke of real genius on Eggers’ part. Heimir is a clear nod to Shakespeare’s Yorick, the court jester who Hamlet remembered so fondly from his childhood, but who appears in the play only in the form of a disembodied skull. The name Amleth itself, in its Icelandic form Amlóði, had come to mean a fool or jester in medieval Iceland, but it is thought to have originated from a term using the suffix óðr, a word cognate with Odin which refers to the divine madness or frenzy with which that god was associated. Since Amleth’s feigned stupidity is replaced by Odinic frenzy in this plot, his feigned stupidity is instead personified as a character who Defoe skilfully portrays in a manner at turns hilarious and terrifying. But Heimir is not just a fleshed out Yorick backstory, but is also a deeply Odinic figure who introduces the young Amleth to the mysteries of the Odin cult in a visually captivating scene which reimagines the world tree of Norse mythology as a family tree on which all the royals of that lineage hang like the hanged god Odin. This interpretation of the world tree as a family tree is also present in stanza 21 of Sonatorrek in Egils saga. Additionally, the Vikings also believed that kings were descended from Odin and the visual device of a family tree also serves to illustrate an unforeseen plot twist at the end of the film. During the first initiation, young Amleth not only becomes a "wolf of the High One", but is also advised by the fool in regards to the mystery of women which he says is connected to the Norns; semi-divine female entities who weave the fates of gods and men. Some Viking-age women practised a kind of shamanic, divinatory magic relating to the threads of fate which was called seiðr - a word which originally referred to a kind of thread like those used in spinning. Odin himself had to learn this magic from a goddess. The theme of the threads of fate is frequently invoked throughout the film with shots of spinning whorls and woollen threads as well as a Norn-like witch played by the Icelandic post-punk popstar Björk. While Shakespeare’s Hamlet agonises over the question of his own being and is thereby delayed from the righteous action of vengeance, Eggers’ Amleth remains almost constantly focused on his vendetta, and when he tries to turn from this path, the threads of fate pull him back to his inevitable end.

The second Odinic initiation scene occurs when Amleth has become a man with enormous trapezius muscles (row-maxing will do that), employed as a slaver in the kingdom of the Rus in Ukraine. He and a group of men all wearing the skins of wolves are led by a horned priest (Ingvar Eggert Sigurðsson) in a shamanistic ritual which culminates in the men howling and snarling like wolves possessed by Odinic frenzy. Neil Price, Professor of Archaeology and Ancient History at Uppsala University, who was an advisor for the film, is likely to have guided Eggers in respect to this well-crafted scene. The priest wears a headdress with horns which terminate in bird heads and this motif is recorded on dozens of Germanic artefacts from Anglo-Saxon England and Scandinavia all of which are thought to pertain to a cult of Odin, with the birds representing that god’s two ravens. See my video on the subject for more on this. Several depictions also show the horned man dancing with spears and one such depiction from Sweden shows the dancer next to a man in a wolf skin. Thus the priest in this scene struts rhythmically around a ritual fire brandishing two spears in one hand. Kris Kershaw identified this wolf cult, known in Norse as the Úlfhéðnar, as a continuation of a prehistoric Indo-European tradition she called the Männerbünde, in which young men would leave their homelands and live as wolves in raiding parties, preying upon foreign cultures they encountered.
This is immediately followed by a testosteronous, adrenaline pumping sequence depicting the wolf men raiding a Slavic town for slaves. The town’s defenders launch a spear at Amleth who catches it in mid air and returns it in one impressively fluid movement. This seemingly impossible manoeuvre is taken directly from the medieval Icelandic story of Njáls saga in which the Viking hero Gunnar catches a spear and throws it straight back into his enemy. So even the action choreography has benefited from consulting historical sources!
After the raid Amleth receives advice from the Slavic witch Björk who sets him back on his fated path of revenge, stowing away on a slave shipment to Iceland. This part was a bit strange, since Russian slaves are unlikely to have been sent further west than Sweden because Icelanders were able to acquire slaves more locally from Scotland and Ireland.
We never see the lips of the head move, and as with all the supernatural sequences in the film, Eggers leaves open the possibility that these phenomena are only depictions of what the characters imagine or dream they are seeing. This ambiguity regarding supernatural elements is also present in The Witch (2015) and The Lighthouse (2019) and permits a more nuanced reading of the text. It is employed again in the following scene when Amleth, beneath the light of the full moon, breaks into a barrow containing a boat burial in order to obtain his fated sword. We see again how faithfully the film adheres to historical accuracy, since the corpse of the great man in the barrow can be dated to the pre-Viking Vendel era based on his shield mounts and the domed mounts of his sword sheath. This is implausible since Iceland was not yet colonised by Norsemen in the Vendel era. There are, however, many stories of men retrieving ancient swords from barrows such as the poem Hervararkviða in which a woman climbs into her father’s barrow to retrieve an ancient family sword called Tyrfing from his ghost. The corpse Amleth encounters is sat upright on a throne, which in Norse lore is a sure sign that he will come back to life as a zombie/ghost which the Vikings called a draugr (confusingly the sword he retrieves from the draugr is called Draugr). Sure enough an intense fight scene between Amleth and the Vendel-era draugr ensues, ending with Amleth shoving its decapitated head between its buttocks - not merely gratuitous Hollywood filth for this too is attested in Grettir's saga. After the battle it cuts back to Amleth standing before the seated corpse as though nothing had happened. Was it all a dream? This may seem an insufferable cliche but here too there is a similar historical precedent to justify it. Barrows were associated with strange dream visions in many cultures. In the Icelandic Flateyjarbók, a Viking named Thorsteinn sleeps on a barrow and dreams of the ghost buried within who reveals to him that there is magic gold inside. When he awakes he discovers there is. So even if Amleth only dreamed that he fought the draugr, that doesn’t mean it didn’t really happen. Exactly the sort of supernatural ambiguity we should expect from Eggers.
Going back to the previous scene with the priest of Odin, though brilliant, it takes liberties with historical accuracy. The grizzled priest wears a sleeveless dress with two so-called tortoise brooches (I call them booby brooches) - typical women’s attire for the Viking age. We know from clear examples in texts like Njals saga and Gautreks saga that it was utterly unacceptable for a man to wear a woman’s garment. Even offering a man a slightly feminine garment would be justification for him to kill you. The idea that Odin or his priests cross-dressed is the theory of Neil Price, but it is strongly opposed by other experts such as Jens Peter-Schjødt. There is no source which proves these priests or Odin himself wore the garments of women for magical purposes, rather the theory depends on Price’s interpretation of Lokasenna in which the wicked god Loki, who is himself severely guilty of transgressing gender roles, accuses Odin of practising magic on the island of Samsø in the same way women usually do, and that he was in the form of a (male) sorcerer (vitki). Loki thinks this is ragr "perverted" but there is no mention of cross-dressing. He is referring to seiðr which was associated with weaving/spinning (a female gendered activity) and the Norns who control fate. Odin does actually cross-dress in another story, but only as a disguise so he can rape a woman. The other problem with the priest’s attire in this scene is that he wears a headdress with some tree bark bearing a magical Icelandic symbol known as ægishjálmur - this is a Christian symbol dated no earlier than the 17th century yet the film is set in the late 9th century. It has nothing to do with Odin.
Later in the story we learn that Amleth’s regicidal uncle Fjölnir (Claes Bang) is a devotee of the god Freyr, disparagingly referred to by Amleth as a “god of erections.” The form of ritual devotion depicted draws in part from the same source in which Amleth’s story was originally preserved; Saxo’s Gesta Danorum. Saxo wrote that the hero Starkaðr considered the cult of Freyr in Uppsala to be unmanly due to the associated dances and clattering of bells. Fjölnir doesn’t dance but he does ring bells before the idol of Freyr, and along with his ill-gotten wife, and a priestess, veils his head in the presence of the god. There is no evidence that Germanic pagans such as the Vikings were veiled during rituals, but this practice is perennial among many pagan cultures including the Romans, who even required that the Emperor himself, along with other officiants, would veil his head (capite velato) during a public sacrifice to the gods. This representation of pagan piety was in stark contrast to the orgiastic wolf ritual for Odin depicted earlier, however the priestess of Odin in the first initiation scene at the temple in Iceland is also wearing a ritual white robe and veil. In an interview Eggers reveals that the decision to include the robes arose when he questioned Neil Price about how sacrificers would prevent their clothes being covered in blood, and Price replied that he had never had to think about this in this way before. Fjölnir's devotion to Freyr is also demonstrated through his horse sacrifices at two points in the film offered as part of funeral rituals. This is well established in the archaeological record and is something I attribute specifically to the cult of Freyr in my dissertation.
The dream sequences featuring a Wagnerian valkyrie (Ineta Sliuzaite) are also worth a mention. The mounted woman is adorned with an ahistorical helmet embellished with what appears to be a swan, presumably in reference to the association of valkyrja with the swan maidens of Germanic folklore. People have asked me why she is wearing braces - she isn’t - those are meant to be filed marks on her teeth- a peculiar practice which is attested in the archeological record.
The film is not without its flaws. I was unconvinced by the Slavic love-interest’s accent, fluctuating between faux Norse (all the characters use this ill-advised 'Allo 'Allo technique) and faux Russian, and the Slavic slaves in Iceland felt like a shoehorned incongruence. However, the touching theme of a man driven purely by hatred and revenge who finds salvation in a woman’s love, although cliche, is timeless. It speaks of an eternal truth contrasting the masculine with the feminine and I always prefer what is eternal to what is merely novel. Fans of Kentaro Miura’s Berserk will recognise the hyper masculine, ultra violent medieval wolf-man raised in gore and hate, driven by an obsessive thirst for vengeance tempered only by moments of tenderness in the embrace of the one person he loves. There is even a touching post-coital halcyonic respite in the woods when Amleth and Olga are allowed a moment of peace - a little too similar to Guts and Casca to be coincidental maybe?
I consider this to be the best Viking film ever made and I expect it will be remembered as such for some time. But while I had hoped this would mark the long awaited end of the biker Viking-age aesthetic which has so permeated popular culture over the last decade, its tawdry mark can still be detected. Not so much in the costumes, but more in regards to the colour palette and score - the former consists of the rather familiar Hollywood medieval drabness with which historical dramas consistently deny the era’s vibrance. The score, while competently composed by Robin Carolan and Sebastian Gainsborough, and effective in keeping the adrenaline pumping while the blood flows across the screen, will date the film since it owes much to the recently invented percussion driven fusion of neo-folk, world-music and martial-industrial that has become the stereotypical “le Viking music” of our time. Widely perceived as authentic because it uses medieval instruments, the combination of far flung elements such as didgeridoos, Siberian drums and Mongolian throat singing would have been as unfamiliar to Vikings as it was to anyone before the likes of Hagalaz Runedance and Wardruna invented it some 20 years ago.
These are, however, minor quibbles with an expertly crafted film which is well cast, with actors pulling off some phenomenal performances (Nicole Kidman deserves particular praise for her role as the detestable Queen Gudrún). Eggers is certainly among the greatest filmmakers of his generation and regardless of how well The Northman performs at the box office, I don’t need to put on a dress to prophesy that it will be remembered as a cult classic of cinema history.
Saturday, 2 May 2020
Wednesday, 15 April 2020
Friday, 9 August 2019
Friday, 14 June 2019
The Noble Savage in The Valley (Obscured by Clouds)
Friday, 7 June 2019
Film about the Baltic crusades (Herkus Mantas)
Monday, 18 March 2019
Review of Equus (1977)
Monday, 25 April 2016
Excalibur (1981) - An Esoteric Analysis
A round-table discussion of medieval fantasy epic Excalbur by John Boorman based on Le Morte d'Arthur by Sir Thomas Malory 1485. I am joined by two Christian traditionalists; Craig New Troy and Mark Citadel.
There are some issues with volume fluctuation in the video above. There is an mp3 version on soundcloud with better audio but then you don't get the visual accompaniment.
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Friday, 29 May 2015
Saturday, 14 December 2013
Short Film: The World Is Burning
A young man returns to a traditional life in rural Newfoundland after tragedy strikes.
Saturday, 19 October 2013
Friday, 5 April 2013
Film: Within the Woods
Raimi has been working on his latest cinematic effort, Oz the Great and Powerful which is also a sort of remake, being a prequel to The Wizard of Oz. It tells the story of how the magician named Oz came to rule the fantasy world.
The original Evil Dead (1981), about a group of young people tormented by demons in a remote woodland cabin, is clearly influenced by the writings of H.P Lovecraft. It even featured the Necronomicon, a book of evil spells and ancient Semitic incantations written by the mad Arab, Abdul Alhazred.
Evil Dead was preceded by a pilot version of the film which Sam Raimi made in 1979 called Within The Woods. The entire movie is available to watch online for free. It's only half an hour long so have look if you want to find out how it all started.
Friday, 13 July 2012
The Representation of Isolated Rural Communities in American and British Horror Films
"Your people destroyed our homes and made us what we've become"
Texas Chainsaw Massacre 1974 - mechanised agriculture apparently turns farmers into monstrous cannibals.
Introduction
In the 1970’s horror film directors continued the traditional horror convention of isolation but some focused more exclusively on isolated communities, and portraying them as a potentially dangerous element to mainstream societies. These films portray families, villages and tribes of people living in remote areas, which preserve a contrasting culture to that of the central character(s) in the film which represent the dominant ideology within Western civilisation. Straw Dogs, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, The Wicker Man and The Hills Have Eyes are all examples. The Hills Have Eyes (1977) showed the contrast between a civilised suburban family called the Carters and a feral family of mutant cannibals they encounter when they break down in the desert. The cause of the feral family’s mutations and cannibalistic tendencies is credited to the United States Military for conducting nuclear tests in the desert. Despite the fact that it is the civilised American society depicted as the cause of the problem, the villains in the film are the isolated rural family.
The Wicker Man 1973
The Wicker Man 1973
There are a range of theories that have been applied to the horror genre sometimes utilising psychoanalytical approaches to analyse the text from perspectives frequently associated with gender studies. However, there are few theorists who have fully considered the connotations of the social divisions implicit in the representation of isolated white communities even though they seem to be a recurring theme in horror films particularly in the 1970s and onwards. This is an area that requires research and study, particularly because it is a theme that can be seen in many films, not just in horror films from the 1970’s and onwards. Alfred Hitchcock’s The Birds (1963) is unlike many horror films in style, but it too depicts an isolated rural community, blinded by ignorance and blaming the arrival of an attractive urbanised modern woman for the unnaturally violent behaviour of the local birds.
Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho was a turning point in the genre, subsequent films have drawn horror from characters whose violence is a result of their psychological state. This form of horror could be perceived as being more "realistic", but the characters in such films are rarely as deeply constructed as Norman Bates, and are often two dimensional monsters that serve merely as devices to construct or criticise an ideology just as much as the rubber monsters of old horror did:
“As the capacity or religion and its equivalents to fill this need receded with the advance of technology in the nineteenth century, the simultaneous discovery of the unconscious and the cinema released a new source of imagery for ‘rendering unto film…the immanent fears of mankind:” Cook (1999: page 196)
These psychological monsters can be used effectively to illustrate the failings of the capitalist system, as is evident in The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974) and the Hills Have Eyes (1977). Both featuring families living in isolated rural communities who have been failed by the system and in being left behind have regressed to a primitive lifestyle which parodies the dominant culture of commerce and trade which failed them.
Remake of Texas Chainsaw Massacre (2004), one cannibal is a police officer, thus equating the law enforcement and legal establishment of rural America with the backward representation of rural communities which is now prevalent.
Remake of Hills Have eyes (2006)- white cannibals shown to be genetically inferior by way of their mutations.
Hills have eyes poster (1977)
Notions of otherness and the concept of representation in horror as "fetishist", if accepted, can just as easily be applied to films that are intended to challenge notions of patriarchy and "civilised" behaviour. There is a tendency in modern horror to portray rural, often agricultural communities of white people in developed Western nations as primitive, inherently violent, culturally inferior, mentally deranged etc. Straw Dogs (1971), Wicker Man (1973), Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974) and The Hills Have Eyes (1977) are just some of many examples that anyone familiar with the genre could offer, but these ones are relevant as they were all released in the 1970's, a time when traditional and conservative values were being challenged by the ongoing counter-culture of the sixties, the members of which were then assuming positions of power in the media. It is telling that ALL of these films have been remade in the 21st century, and all of them have gone even further to sensationalise the violent nature of rural whites, upon whom a protagonist reaps vengeance through violence. There is an underlying message in all these films, that the supposedly cultured urban peoples are in fact no better than these violent rural communities, for when they are required to defend themselves, they resort to the same kind of violence. Though actually a critique of the urban culture, this still implicitly constructs urban culture as superior to the rural.
Remake of Hills Have eyes (2006) - far more graphic violence against the rural community who are in this film even more grotesque in appearance than those in the original. Their mutation is the product of military testing and so is blamed on traditional power structures and the American military itself.
Rather than being a manifestation of an oppressive patriarchal, white power structure intent on suppressing women and ethnic minorities, these films are in fact subversive - intended to defame and demonise traditional cultures of western societies. If an alien were to assess the quality of life in rural and urban parts of the West by watching these films, it would come to the conclusion that the cities were havens for peaceful, cultured intellectuals whereas the countryside is a dangerous place full of rapists and murderers. Crime statistics consistently show the opposite to be the case.
Original straw dogs - an American intellectual is set upon by primitive Cornish men.
What is the function of such demonisation and why is it so prevalent now? Hollywood producers certainly know that remakes are a safer bet financially, but the types of films chosen also serve a political purpose intended to redefine notions of western identity and disrupt existing power structures which are based on cultural traditions.In so doing, a system of cultural hierarchy is presented that places communities whose economy is primarily agricultural, beneath those urban protagonists who are forced to correct the backwardness of the rural culture with violence.
The remake of the Wicker Man(2006) is a slight exception to the rule, since in this case the scottish island, now located in Washington state USA, is home to a colony of wiccans rather than pagans. The matriarchal society is shown to be flawed and the police officer is murdered as in the original, but in this version, despite not glamorizing the matriarchal commune, the police officer is brutally violent towards the women, and so is hardly shown to be much better than the murdering cult he fights against.
The nature of Horror
Remake of Straw Dogs (2011) in which rural men are shown to be prone to rape and lack respect for women. |
Social Anxieties depicted through Horror
“Such is the aristocratic standing of Dracula and the dream of the patriarchal capitalist who has replaced him. He is also society’s inevitable punishment for such forbidden pleasures. Just as the bourgeois thinks he alone has the right to property and luxury, obtained through the labour of those who have neither, and steps in to restrain by any means the lower orders who dare demand their share, so Dracula stands in for the punishment of our guilty desires through the terror he brings, a terror that is the fear of transgressing society’s ‘natural order’.”Humphries (2002: p.13)
“The monster is thus the signifier of alienation as he has no identity outside that given to him by his creator (and Frankenstein behaves like God). He is also its signifier in as much as he is made up of bits and pieces; fragments of other people. Thus does the capitalist Frankenstein live off literally dead workers, getting them to work twice: The first time they get some payment for their trouble, but once dead they can be used at will.”Humphries (2002: p. 15)
“As the capacity of religion and its equivalents to fill this need receded with the advance of technology in the nineteenth century, the simultaneous discovery of the unconscious and the cinema released a new source of imagery for ‘rendering unto film…the immanent fears of mankind:” Cook (1999: p.96)
‘Otherness’ in
horror.
Women are frequently portrayed as an ‘other’ in horror films, and in the context of an alleged patriarchal ideology, the spectacle of the female is there to be looked at in the sense that it represents what Freud identified as the male fear of castration. This means that all forms of cinematic representation are to some extent fetishist in the sense that they are human reconstructions of reality, therefore subject to the psychological fears and repressed anxieties of the human psyche identified by Freud (1905). In King Kong, when the ape looks into the eyes of the central female character, Ann, it is presumed that it is sexually attracted to the woman; Humphries provides an alternative explanation believing that Kong is in fact female, in keeping with the concept of women as ‘other’:
“Kong pursuing Ann is Kong seeing in Ann a kindred spirit; someone exploited by capital and patriarchy. Kong’s ‘love’ for Ann is an early form of female bonding, neglected in favour of its male counterpart.” Humphries (2002: p.24)
“This reading of the castration scenario then enables Williams to account for several aspects of the classic horror film. The ‘vindictive destruction of the monster’ the frequent sympathy of the female characters for the plight of the monster, their similar constitution as an exhibitionist object by the desiring look of the male,”Cook (1999:p.200)
The Theme of Isolation
“Ever since the ghost of Hamlet’s father stalked the battlements of Elsinore castle, the stock in trade of horror romanticism has consisted of the inhabitants, properties and atmosphere of the haunted house.” Tibbetts in Chibnall (2002: p.99)
“The convention of the civilised man forced to violence is familiar in most manly movie genres, but rarely has it been presented as skilfully as it has here. The heroes of Deliverance and Hills Have Eyes are given no choice but to fight and kill, attacked suddenly by monstrous villains who seem hardly human” Fenton & Flint (p.120)
Where Beauty meets Beast
FRED: When Martha had this one something went wrong, this thing she give me…something happened. He was so big he came out sideways and almost tore his poor Mother apart. He weighed 20lbs and was hairy as a monkey. When he was ten years old, he was bigger than I was. Accidents were happening all the time. Dogs falling in the well, I even found chickens with their heads bit off. Then in August in ‘39 I was in town getting supplies, and the whole damn house burnt to the ground, my little baby girl was a cinder when I found her, but this monster kid wasn’t even singed, I knew he done it, I hit him with a tire iron and I split his face right open.
The first meeting in Hills is comparable with a similar scene in Texas in which the ‘civilised’ members of mainstream society come into contact with a member of a family of cannibals. As five fashionable seventies youths travel past a cattle slaughterhouse on their way to visit Franklin’s grandfather’s house in the Texas countryside, after attending a concert, they see a hitchhiker and decide to pick him up.
FRANKLIN: I think we just picked up Dracula.
JERRY: Where're you heading, man?
FRANKLIN: You work at that place?
HITCHHIKER: Don't.
PAM: How did you get stuck out here?
HITCHHIKER: I was at the slaughterhouse.
FRANKLIN: I got an uncle that works at a slaughterhouse.
HITCHHIKER: My brother worked there, my grandfather, too. My family's always been in beef.
KIRK: a whole family of Draculas.
JERRY: Hey man, did you go into that slaughter room or whatever they call it? Where they shoot the cattle with that air gun thing?
HITCHHIKER: That gun is no good.
FRANKLIN: I was in there once with my uncle.
HITCHHIKER: With the sledge! That was better. They died better that way.
FRANKILN: How come? I thought the gun was better.
HITCHHIKER: Oh no. With the new way people were put out of jobs