American Mary (2012): Rape and more Body Horror

I was not originally planning to discuss body horror further, at least not this soon after my review of Contracted (Eric England, 2013). Netflix had other plans. While looking for suggestions, I found another body horror film, also dealing with rape and the destructive and corrupting consequences of rape, but in a different way. For this review, I will discuss the plot in greater detail, so you may want to watch the film before reading any further.

American Mary (Jane Soska & Sylvia Soska, 2012) is about Mary (Katharine Isabelle), a medical student whose financial troubles and excellent surgical skills result in her doing extreme body modification procedures. One notable client is Ruby (Paula Lindberg), a woman who wants to become a doll and asks Mary to remove her nipples and external genitalia. After she is drugged and raped by one of her teachers (David Lovgren), Mary drops out of medical school and starts doing body modifications full time. She also kidnaps her rapist and uses him "for practice", horribly disfiguring him. Her luxurious new life is threatened when an agent starts investigating his disappearance.

While Contracted attemps to show how rape affects the everyday life of the victim, American Mary focuses on how the victim deals with the consequences. When Mary is raped, she loses control over her body and she attempts to regain control by punishing her rapist and stripping him of control by stripping him of various body parts. She also helps others keep control over their bodies by modifying them according to their requests. When Mary asks Ruby (a pre-rape client) why she would want the requested procedure, she explains that dolls cannot be sexually objectified because they lack nipples and genitalia. Ruby wants to make her body her own, and not someone else's object. This feminist line of thought is continued later in the film when Ruby's husband beats her and wants revenge on Mary for taking away his sexual object.

The rape also changes Mary's moral outlook. She enjoys the sadistic punishment she continually inflicts on her rapist, which makes her increasingly less sympathetic to the audience. Even though we know that he is a serial rapist and has witnessed his brutal rape of Mary, the punishment cannot be justified because it is not redemtive for him, rather corruptive for her. Mary becomes a rapist by taking away his control over his body. Let's compare her revenge rape to that of Lisbeth Salander (Noomi Rapace) from The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo (Niels Arden Oplev, 2009). Lisbeth punishes her legal guardian Bjurman (Peter Andersson) for raping her by tattooing "I am a sadist pig and a rapist" on his chest and anally raping him with a dildo. She also blackmails him with a recording of her rape and demands that he leaves her alone. Lisbeth punishes by raping him back, branding him as a rapist to protect other women and releasing herself from his power, enabling her to move on with her life. Mary, on the other hand, does not move on and keeps her rapist as a pet for her to occasionally torture. Lisbeth allows Bjurman to live, with restrictions suitable for a violent sex offender, and checks up on him to make sure he behaves. He is basically on parole. Lisbeth's revenge is justified in motive and in method, while Mary's simply makes her worse. This is why Lisbeth's character is far more sympathetic than Mary's. One could of course argue that Mary's revenge is more satisfying as a fantasy. It is an expression of all her hate towards him and therefore does not have to be constructive, like Lisbeth's.

I have to mention that American Mary has a lot of unnecessary "male gaze" for a film about rape. As you can see from the trailer, Mary herself is often sexualized by the camera. There is, however, often a male character objectifying her in such scenes, allowing the audience to distance themselves from the shot. The rape scene is also decently done. It keeps focus on Mary's and her rapist's faces, alternating between her agony and his hateful lust.

The directors, known as the "Soska Sisters", are big fans of modern horror films and it definitely shows. Therefore I can only recommend this film to horror hound who aren't afraid of uncomfortable gore. Luckily, I am one of those and I really enjoyed it. Watch at your own risk!

Contracted (2013) and Body Horror

Body horror is a sub-genre of horror fiction which uses our fear of our bodies changing or otherwise becoming alienated from us. Elements of body horror are often used in other types of horror films; in Alien (Ridley Scott, 1979) the titular monster lays its eggs inside its victims and the contemporary "torture porn" sub-genre, with films like Saw (James Wan, 2004) and Hostel (Eli Roth, 2005) and their sequels, wants the audience to fear what someone might do to their bodies. The films mentioned all have an element of someone or something external attacking the body, but today's review will focus on a film where the attack is coming from within. The Fly (David Cronenberg, 1986) and Cabin Fever (Eli Roth, 2002) are other films that use the same approach.

 

Contracted (Eric England, 2013) is about Samantha (Najarra Townsend), a young lesbian, who gets raped at a party and contracts a strange STD, which causes her body to, for lack of a better word, decompose. The transformation is slow and Samantha tries her best to hide the symptoms from her mother, friends, co-workers and her ex-girlfriend, with whom she tries to get back together.

Rape is a common theme in body horror, probably because it represents both violation and loss of control. In Alien, victims are inseminated through an act which could be described as a literal face rape. Samantha's rape in the beginning of Contracted is handled in an interesting way. While the audience sees how the rapist slips Rohypnol into her drink and how she begs him to stop during the act, Samantha seems unsure herself. She is also afraid to tell people, especially her ex-girlfriend who may view it as a drunken one night stand with a man, undermining her sexual identity. You could say that the film gives a realistic depiction of rape, showing both the act and the subsequent shame and fear of not being believed.

Samantha's character is the only remotely likable one in the film. Every other character either judges her harshly, wants to sleep with her or both. This is partially justified as the film focuses on Samantha's point-of-view and her being a rape survivor, this mirrors both her loss of faith in other people and other people's reactions towards her. However, her friends aren't particularly likable characters even before her rape. Additionally, as a result of her disease, Samantha becomes increasingly unlikable as the film progresses. She is still sympathetic, we truly feel sorry for her, but her actions become harder for us to understand and rationalize.

The film has been criticized as "punishing a lesbian for being raped", which I guess is arguably true. I would however rather interpret Contracted as telling the story of the tragic aftermath of a rape. Being raped and contracting a disease not only destroys Samatha's body, but also her relationships.

The film deserves praise for the way it handles a complex and sensitive subject and for Samantha's character development. It also did a great job with the practical special effects, showing Samantha's gruesome physical transformation. Other than that, Contracted is just okay. The ending is a bit predictable and doesn't really mix well with the rest of the film. Still, I think the film is definitely worth watching. It is far from perfect, but unlike most horror films featuring a literal rape it isn't a revenge story, which is kind of refreshing.

As a last note, I would like to comment on how stupid the title is. Why does almost every horror film nowadays have to have these vague one-word titles? Contracted might as well be the story of a contract killer!

Robin's Favorites: Girl, Interrupted (1999) as a Feminist Film

What is a "feminist film"? One interpretation of the concept could be that a film made with conscious feminist effort or ideology in mind is a feminist film. You could also say that any film that is empowering to women or exposes and criticizes cultural misogyny, regardless of the filmmakers' intentions, is feminist. The problem is, of course, that concepts such as "female empowerment" and "cultural criticism" are not easily defined, and as ideology, feminism often allows critics to highlight problematic aspects of otherwise praised characters and narratives. While, for example, Ellen Ripley (played by Sigourney Weaver) in Alien (Ridley Scott, 1979) and Aliens (James Cameron, 1986) is often held up as one of the strongest female protagonists in science fiction, you could argue that because she isn't very feminine (the character was originally created as male), the films do not actually challenge the idea that femininity is a negative character trait in a hero. Additionally, the films do not feature many other female characters.

In this analytical review, I will discuss why Girl, Interrupted (James Mangold, 1999) is one of my favorite films and attempt to show why I consider it to be a great example of a feminist film. I will try to avoid spoiling the film for those who have not yet seen it.

The film is a drama based on Susanna Kaysen's eponymous memoir, chronicling her stay at a mental institution, and stars Winona Ryder as Susanna. Supporting actors include Angelina Jolie (who received an Academy Award for her performance), Brittany Murphy, Whoopi Goldberg and Jared Leto. The film is set in the late 1960s.

After an alleged suicide attempt, 18-year old Susanna is urged by her parents to commit herself to Claymoore Psychiatric Hospital. She is greeted by Nurse Valerie (Goldberg) and introduced to other patients, like her pathological liar roommate Georgina (Clea DuVall), the burnt and childlike Polly (Elizabeth Moss), the bulimic Daisy suffering from OCD (Murphy) and, later, the rebellious sociopath Lisa (Jolie). Susanna is very intelligent and wants to be a writer, but suffers from depression and experiences flashbacks to earlier events in her life. The films uses these flashbacks to convey Susanna's back story and it is revealed that she was the only one in her graduating class not going off to college, has an ex-boyfriend (Leto) who is afraid to get drafted, and had a one night stand with an older, married family friend. During her stay, Susanna uses a notebook to write down her thoughts and feelings about the institution, other patients and herself.

The main theme of the film is the nature of mental illness. As she befriends Lisa, Susanna begins to consider that the medical staff at Claymoore is in fact clueless about mental illness and that therapy is a waste of time as she does not consider herself crazy. As it turns out, viewing psychiatry only as an oppressive system that is more concerned with conformity than actual sanity is not a productive approach to her situation. As further discussion would require a more detailed synopsis of the film, I will now leave this issue and focus on the film as a feminist work.

While I think it is more meaningful to discuss the film as a whole, there are a few scenes with very explicit feminist commentary. In a flashback, Susanna is explaining why she isn't planning on attending college, expressing her worries about becoming a housewife like her mother, to her guidance counselor. The counselor assures her that "women today have more options", to which Susanna responds "No they don't". She is suggesting that while women have the opportunity to get an advanced education, they are still expected to marry and start a family. In another scene, she qustions being labeled "promiscuious" and asks how much casual sex a man is allowed to have before receiving the same label. This double standard, that promiscuious men and women are referred to as "studs" and "sluts" respectively, is a much discussed feminist topic.

Despite these statements, Susanna is not portrayed as a "straw feminist". She explicitly tells her guidance counselor that she is not planning on "burning [her] bra, or march on Washington"; she just wants to write, which she can do without going to college. In other words, she wants to lead her life the way she wants, as opposed to the way society dictates, whether it is being a homemaker or going to college.

However, the main reason that I consider Girl, Interrupted a great feminist film is not because of the basic feminism of Susanna's character, but rather because the film does something that is rarely seen in Hollywood; it shows female characters being characters in themselves instead of in relation to male characters. While some supporting characters are mainly characterized by their illness or profession, the leading females are definitely characters in their own right. In fact, the male characters are often defined by their relationships to our leading ladies.

I don't consider turning-the-tables progressive in itself, but this film does it so well. It does not hit us over the head with its female-heavy story; in fact, I'm fairly certain the filmmakers weren't trying to make a feminist film. They wanted to tell the story of Susanna Kaysen, but as a Hollywood drama, with the associated conventions of the medium and genre. They did however omit the cliche of the Hollywood love interest, because it didn't make sense. There are two men in the film with romantic feelings for Susanna, but she does not feel the same way; she is simply not interested. While you could argue that she doesn't want a man because she is afraid of becoming domesticated, I think the stronger feminist message is that she doesn't need one. At the hospital, her focus is on getting better and therefore her love is reserved for some staff members and other inmates, her surrogate family. It would have been easy to create drama by giving her a "secret love" or another kind of romantic interest, which would come between her and her friends. But it would have been unnecessary. They did the right thing by simply showing the drama of being institutionalized; good characters don't need love interests. As a male, I cannot definitely say that the film is empowering for women, only that it very well could be.

It is hard to discuss feminism and film without mentioning the Bechdel test. Created by Alison Bechdel, the test checks for the inclusion of female characters based on three criteria: to pass the test, a film has to have at least (I) two named female characters, that (II) have a conversation about (III) something other than a man. While it seems very simple to pass, many Hollywood films do not, and this seems very strange. It does not say anything about whether a film is feminist or not, as a film could pass the test with a single scene in which two women introduce themselves to one another and talk about shoes; it simply checks if female characters are given any screen time without men. Needless to say, Girl, Interruped passes with flying colors.

I simply love this film; from its take on mental illness to the strong leading ladies and their relationships to one another. It also serves up a wide array of emotions; it has dark, tragic and disturbing scenes that contrast well with funny and heart-warming ones. After watching it, I always think: "maybe ending up in a mental institution wouldn't be too bad?" Also, "Downtown" by Petula Clark will be permanently stuck in your head after watching.

Robin's Favorites: American Psycho (2000)

This review will be more analytical than my review of Ed Wood (Tim Burton, 1994). Therefore, I will have to discuss the plot in greater detail. Naturally, this means that if you haven't yet seen the film, I suggest you watch it before reading any further. Much of what I am about to discuss have already been discussed by others, but I hope I have something new to contribute.

American Psycho (Mary Harron, 2000) is a thriller with a large chunk of black comedy. The film is set in the 80s and is narrated by protagonist Patrick Bateman (Christian Bale), a Wall Street VP who moonlights as a serial killer. It is based on the eponymous novel by Bret Easton Ellis. Unfortunately I haven't yet read the novel, but I think the film can be meaningfully analyzed independently.

The film follows Bateman's life before, during and after he murders Paul Allen (Jared Leto), another Wall Street guy. He is engaged to Evelyn (Reese Witherspoon), a socialite who mostly cares about being socially correct and wants to marry Bateman for that reason. Bateman doesn't care about Evelyn and is having an affair with the drug-addicted Courtney (Samantha Mathis), who is engaged to his closeted homosexual colleague Luis (Matt Ross). Bateman is jealous of Allen's job and social status and kills him. As he tries to cover up the murder, Detective Donald Kimball (Willem Dafoe) starts investigating Allen's alleged disappearance. He has a nice assistant, Jean (Cloe Sevigny), who suspects that there is something strange about him. Throughout the film, Bateman murders numerous women and hires a prostitute (Cara Seymour), who he names "Christie".

All of the actors and actresses give splendid performances, but no one comes close to Bale. If they had chosen a lesser actor to portray Bateman, the film would have been a disaster. Bateman is the narrator and the focus of every single scene. Therefore, I think it would be impossible for me not to select his character as the focus of my analysis.

The film almost explicitly states that Bateman lacks identity. In one of the opening scenes, he says that while "there is an idea of a Patrick Bateman", he is "simply not there". This view is further supported by the fact that he does not mind being mistaken for someone else and that he often makes up names for the prostitutes he hires. He does not consider it important. When Bale portrays Bateman in social situations, he makes it clear that Bateman is acting and that every word he utters is insincere. He is simply trying to fit in by pretending to be like everyone else. His obsessive talk about popular music before acts of violence, could also be interpreted as trying to fit in.

While I accept this interpretation, I would also argue that there is a real Patrick Bateman, beyond the feelings of jealosy and greed that he admits experiencing. In the trailer above, Bateman attempts to partake in the very misogynistic conversation they are having about women. He tells an anecdote about a serial killer's views on women and finds it hilarious. He is, however, the only one. This is the real him. He is fascinated by murder and mayhem and this idea will be more intelligible later, in my discussion of the ending. Bale's performance clearly informs the audience when Bateman is acting and when he is sincere, and if there was no Bateman, this distinction should not be so easily identified.

One of Bateman's main character traits is his focus on appearances. In the beginning of the film, we are treated to most of his morning routine and a detailed narration of every single step. We also see him working out and tanning, all to keep himself fit and handsome. He is an expert on fashion and even uses a Jean Paul Gaultier bag when disposing of a body. He is also very much bothered by other people's fashion faux pas and is not above correcting them. This shallowness goes even further, for example in this famous scene where Bateman and his colleagues compare business cards:

It is important to note that all of their cards are very similar, white with black text, and that it seems unneccessary to put too much emphasis on their trivial differences. Bateman is distraught that Paul Allen has a nicer business card than he and along with the fact that Allen can get a reservation at Dorsia, this results in him killing Allen. Paul Allen can be viewed as Bateman's perfect self; he has a better job, better connections and, as is revealed after the murder, a nicer and more expensive apartment. He is arrogant and shallow, but more successful than Bateman. After murdering Allen, Bateman even pretends to be him when hiring prostitutes. Admiration turns to jealosy, turns to anger and finally violence. As Bateman axes Allen in the head, he screams "Try getting a reservation at Dorsia now you fucking stupid bastard!" Dorsia is the most popular restaurant in Manhattan and only the most well-connected people can get a reservation. Bateman cannot. Dorsia represents what Bateman lacks and he often tries, unsuccessfully, to get a reservation. He twice fakes getting a reservation; he first tricks a drugged Courtney that they are at Dorsia and later tells Jean that they are going to Dorsia for dinner, when he in fact plans to murder her at his apartment.

Bateman's sexuality is also debatable. While he has sex with multiple women in the film, he seems to take more pleasure from hurting them rather than from the sex. In one scene, when he has a threeway with two prostitutes, he even checks himself out in the mirror, flexing his muscles. Afterwards, he hurts them with a coat-hanger. Bateman could be viewed as a latent homosexual, which would explain his promiscuity as overcompensating, and his fear of his sexuality would explain his hatred of Luis, who even comes on to him. For more on this, see Rantasmo's review.

While Bateman mostly prefers to be alone, he does have one person that almost could be considered a friend: Timothy Bryce (Justin Theroux). Bryce is very similar to Bateman, but he is not considered a threat. Early in film, Bateman describes Bryce as "the most interesting person [he] know[s]" and the two of them are shown doing cocaine together in club bathroom, where Bryce confides in Bateman about the side-effects of his steroid use. In the business card scene, Bateman is bothered by the fact that Bryce prefers Allen's business card to his. This implies that he cares about Bryce's opinion and the fact that he never considers murdering Bryce, even though he knows that he is having an affair with Evelyn, shows that their relationship is different from his relationships to other colleagues.

Bateman also has a special relationship with his assistant Jean. Bateman invites her to his apartment planning to kill her, but after a message from Evelyn on his answering machine, revealing to Jean that he is still engaged, he changes his mind and tells her to leave or else she might get hurt. Jean thinks he is referring to emotional pain and leaves. My interpretation as to why he spared her revolves around their conversation before Evelyn's message. She is genuinely nice to him, which no other character seems to be, and tells him about her plans and dreams, which he insincerely asked about. Bateman sees his other victims as shallow, horrible people, much like he views himself, and when he notices that Jean is different, he no longer wants to kill her. Instead, he sends her away because he is afraid that his urges might force him to. She is also the first person he calls when he suffers a breakdown.

SPOILER ALERT: The following four paragraphs discuss the ending of the film.

In a twist ending, it is revealed that Paul Allen is alive and well. Bateman is given this information by his lawyer, who refers to him as Davis. Before this, Bateman went to dispose of Allen's corpse, but found that Allen's remains are nowhere to be found. He is confused and frustrated that his lawyer doesn't believe his confession, and concludes that while he has escaped righteous punishment for his crimes, he does not feel better and will continue to inflict his pain on others.

While Bateman still believes that he did all of the horrible things the film has shown us, we, on the other hand, are forced to conclude that Bateman is insane. This, while a bit unexpected, is not too hard to accept, since we have have seen him taking medication in moments of stress. Insanity would also explain some of the film's more unrealistic  scenes, such as him blowing up a police car by shooting it (which even surprised himself) and killing Christy in a stairwell by dropping a chainsaw on her from several floors up. In the end, Jean also finds disturbing drawings in his calendar, revealing his morbid fantasies.

The fact that he never killed Paul Allen has huge consequences for the rest of the film. Every scene in Allen's apartment or referencing his disappearance must be figments of his imagination. Whether or not he actually committed other murders is uncertain. This also implies that Detective Kimball never existed, since there was in fact nothing for him to investigate. This makes sense, considering that Kimball in one scene shows Bateman a Huey Lewis and the News CD, which Bateman had played during the murder. Kimball could be interpreted as Bateman's fear of being discovered for what he is (whatever that may be).

Through this, we may interpret Bateman's obsessive need to fit in and be normal not as a way of covering for his murders or latent homosexuality, but for his mental illness. He must focus his attention on his appearance, since he cannot deal with what lies beneath. Maybe he created his psychopath persona as an excuse for him to pretend that there is nothing inside him worth thinking about, that he simply isn't there.

There are many reasons why this is one of my favorites. For one thing, it is extremely memorable. There are three scenes where Bateman plays and talks about music and these will stick with you like Alex (Malcolm McDowell) singing "Singing in the Rain" before raping a woman in A Clockwork Orange (Stanley Kubrick, 1971). Whenever I hear "Hip to be Square", "Sussudio" or "The Greatest Love of All", I think of Paul Allen's murder, Bateman in a threeway and lesbian foreplay respectively.

The film has remained controversial for a number of reasons. One of the more profound accusations have been misogyny. I will not deny that there is a lot of violence against women in the film and that nearly every female character is weak or timid. This film was definitely not made with a female audience in mind (excluding Bale's handsomeness and many nude or partially nude scenes). In its defense, the misogynist Bateman is not meant to be sympathized with. No one is supposed to view him as any kind of role model. That being said, I would not go so far as to suggest that the film uses misogyny as a way to critique misogynistic societal norms or conventions. Personally, I think some scenes go too far, but I can forgive them in the context of the rest of the film.

My main reason for loving this film can be seen on this page. There is just so much to think and talk about (and I haven't even mentioned the most common interpretation: as a critique of the shallowness of the 1980s) and as you should have realized by now, that is what I love to do.