Beruflich Dokumente
Kultur Dokumente
TRANSNATIONAL
HORROR CINEMA
Bodies of Excess and the Global Grotesque
Transnational Horror Cinema
Sophia Siddique Raphael Raphael
Editors
Transnational Horror
Cinema
Bodies of Excess and the Global Grotesque
Editors
Sophia Siddique Raphael Raphael
Department of Film University of Hawaii at Manoa
Vassar College Honolulu, USA
Poughkeepsie, New York, USA
v
vi Notes on Contributors
1 Introduction1
SophiaSiddiqueandRaphaelRaphael
ix
x Contents
Index235
List of Figures
xi
Acknowledgements
Many hands helped bring this work forth. We are especially grateful to the
editorial and production team at Palgrave Macmillan for their shepherding
of this volume through its long gestation. Thanks also go to our anony-
mous reader whose insightful feedback helped make it stronger. We are
especially grateful for the efforts (and patience) of the authors assembled
for sharing their unique and complementary voices.
R.R.: Thanks to my co-editor Sophia for the keen insights and critical
eye she brought to this project. I am also grateful to those who have nur-
tured and expanded my scholarship, including Kathleen Karlyn who, with
contagious excitement, introduced me both to Bakhtin and to the power
of genre. Thanks to Elizabeth Wheeler who passionately first shared with
me the insights of Disability Studies. I also benefited from crucial early
encouragement from other faculty at the University of Oregon, including
Julia Lesage, Michael Aronson, Sangita Gopal, Janet Wasco, and John
Gage, who supported my development of a course on the Rhetoric of
Visual Culture. Mahalo also goes to the team at the Center on Disability
Studies at the University of Hawaii at Mnoa for their encouragement,
especially Megan Conway and Steve Brown.
My parents Maryanne and Lennox have long provided inspiration as
writers and artists. My children Zeal and Anjali provided endless and
enriching distraction during this process. Finally, I wish to thank my wife
Ginger whose continuous support and patience has made it all worthwhile.
xiii
xiv Acknowledgements
S.S.: This work has been a long labor of love. I wish to thank Raphael for
his steadfast enthusiasm and commitment to seeing this project through
from inception to fruition. I wish to dedicate this anthology to the three
beloveds in my life: Samira Siddique (my sister), Sharon Siddique (my
mother), and Peggy Mema Browning (my grandmother). Thank you
for your love, encouragement, and unconditional belief in me.
My immediate and extended family have been a source of joy and love
throughout this writing process: Tony Siddique (my father), Misha and
Roxy (my nieces), Mike Browning and Frances Hartogh (my uncle and
aunt), Sophie and Katie Browning (my cousins), Parhana Moreta (my
second sister). The Harvey family: Michelle, my soul sister, Bryan, Lyla
Maryanna, Teetoo (dearly missed), David, Gary, Becky, Josh, Tanya, Seth,
Ahlam, Hannah, and Ty. Erin: while we no longer walk along the same path,
I will always cherish your support and indulgence of my horror habit. The
Root family: Pat, Paul, Maria, and Sara. The Fidler family: Sue and Rich.
This anthology would not be possible without the support of a global
community of friends. I thank each one from my heart: Carlos Alamo-
Pastrana, Sara Baldwin, Barbara Brown, Debra Bucher, Judith Cummings,
Beth Davis, Charlene Dye Dix, Eve Dunbar, Natalie Frank, Rachel
Friedman, Arnika Furhmann, Teresa Garrett, Stephen Jones, Kate Saumure
Jones, Jamie Kelly, Kenisha Kelly, Jenni Kennell, Khoo Gaik Cheng, Marsha
Kinder, Laurie Klingel, Adam Knee, Mia Mask, Andie Morgan, Marie
Murphy, Jasmine Kin Kia Ng, Heather Osborne-Thompson, Edgar Pablos,
Justin Patch, Hiram Perez, Sheri Reynolds, Ken Robinson (dearly missed),
Erndira Rueda, Dave Schneggenburger, Jim Steerman, Sandi Tan, Jim
Thompson, Alison Trope, and William Whittington.
A special thanks goes to Dakota Lee Snellgrove, my research assistant,
who read chapter drafts with great care and diligence.
CHAPTER 1
Introduction
SophiaSiddique andRaphaelRaphael
S. Siddique
Department of Film, Vassar College, Poughkeepsie, NY, USA
R. Raphael (*)
University of Hawaii at Manoa, Honolulu, HI, USA
From its origins, what would eventually come to be called the hor-
ror genre has been deeply transnational, both in contexts of produc-
tion and reception. The first works of horror stitch together the flesh of
various national and generic texts. Almost immediately after the appear-
ance of motion pictures, the new medium is seen as a way to explore
transgressions of corporeal borders, whether that is through testing the
limits of what is proper to be seen (e.g., in Edisons The Execution of
Mary, Queen of Scots, 1895) or exploring the borders between human
and animal. In Mlis De Mansion de diabla (1896), an impossibly
large bat transforms before our eyes into a man. In addition to blur-
ring boundaries between species, Mlis fantastical creatures are also
posited in opposition to official culture. In the short motion picture,
two properly dressed menapparent members of the courtenter into
a comic battle with a host of impossible creatures that, through Mlis
box of cinematic tricks, appear to materialize out of nowhere, transform
into one another and vanish just as quickly. The success of these works
of spectacular cultural transgressionin the increasingly international
trade of cinematic textsassured the production and circulation of
more cinematic displays of grotesque bodies.
In addition to their corporeal slipperiness, these spectacles also resist
attempts by film historians and critics to consider them solely within the
context of nation. A fuller understanding is only possible with a more
complete consideration of their transnational context. While Siegfried
Kracauers investigation of The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (1920) offered
up the film as a hermetically sealed heuristic of a crisis of national psyche
as well as harbinger of things to come, Thomas Elsaessers reading of the
film complicates this (2000). Elsaesser suggests this is far too narrow a
view of the film. He posits that the production of Dr. Caligari was deeply
influenced by the cinematic output of the United States and was indeed
a pragmatic attempt to differentiate product to compete with Americas
prodigious output. Its expressionist aesthetics, he suggests, were not sim-
ply attacks at bourgeois realism, but instead value-added content to distin-
guish product and ensure greater circulation. These films, of course, also
had a symbiotic relationship with the industry within the United States,
and their role in shaping the aesthetics of early sound horror films cannot
be overstated (along with their influence on the subsequent revitalization
of the American film industry in the Depression). The point we wish to
make here in mentioning these texts is simply that the various bodies of
horrorcorporeal and generichave, from their origins, been vitalized
INTRODUCTION 3
Mike Dillon
In Butchered in Translation: A Transnational Grotesuqe, Dillon con-
textualizes marketing strategies for horror films within national and trans-
national settings. More specifically, Dillon argues that deceptive marketing
strategies produce a transnational mode of horror spectatorship that moves
beyond one shaped by genre auteurs and the concerns of allegory.
During the peak popularity of American horror and its short-lived tor-
ture porn subset, there was a boom in other markets seeking to capitalize
on the name recognition of these trend-setting American horror narra-
tives. The French thriller Saint Martyrs de Damnes (2005) was released in
Japanese outlets as Saw Zero, explicitly marketed as a sort of prequel to the
American horror franchise despite bearing no connection or resemblance
to it; the cover art for the Saw Zero DVD features decidedly gruesome
images of mutilation and suggested violence that do not accurately reflect
Saints actual content. In a similar case, the low-budget, ultraviolent
Japanese torture film Grotesque (2009) uses a marketing strategy explicitly
linking the film to American horror by featuring a tagline on its DVD box
cover promising Saw and Hostel were only appetizers.
Such marketing tactics are wholly common and can be seen across a
variety of genres in multiple overseas markets, as distributors attempt to
boost their sales by misleading audiences with deceptive titles and cover
designs that associate their film with biggerand often betterproducts.
However, when considering the politically loaded discourses that have
come to coalesce around the American torture porn subgenreboth
publicly and academicallythis awkward referencing of such iconography
is socially significant. Using the above examples (among others) as case
studies, Dillons chapter examines what is at stake in the blind appropria-
tion of the horror brand by national cinemas, such as Japans, which are
not directly connected to recent imaginings of violence linked allegorically
INTRODUCTION 7
Kevin Wynter
From Dillons consideration of these consequences of deceptive market-
ing practice, Wynters An Introduction to the Continental Horror Film
suggests that current theoretical frameworks need to be expanded to more
fully account for spectators pleasure with the genre. Looking at contem-
porary European horror, he invites us to see the limits of the validity of
horror as genre. This introduction to the continental horror film pro-
vides a brief overview of the deterioration of the American horror films
self-reflexivity (a powerful mode of cultural critique in the 1970s) with the
rise of the slasher film and its dominance as the blueprint of American
horror films of the last three decades. Wynter argues that a resurgence in
the use of horror as a tool for cultural critique can be located in contem-
porary European cinema most notably, but not limited to, the films of
Michael Haneke, Bruno Dumont and Catherine Breillat. Advancing the
political dimension of Robin Woods work on the American horror film,
this chapter conceptualizes horror in a European context while question-
ing the validity of the horror genre as an organizing principle due to
its insistence upon aligning violence with meaning. Through a compara-
tive reading of two films that bridge the divide between the horror films
second and third phasesJohn McNaughtons Henry: Portrait of a Serial
Killer (1986) and George Sluizers Spoorloos (1988)Wynter suggests
that this shift from the modern horror film to the continental horror film
can be located in the rise of the serial killer as a transnational figure of fas-
cination in Western popular culture and contemporary life. Through this
investigation of the serial killer, Wynter outlines four main characteristics
that will come to define the continental horror film: negative curiosity; the
stranger; contingency; and the banality of evil.
8 S. SIDDIQUE AND R. RAPHAEL
Sangjoon Lee
While Wynters work questions the validity of the genre, in Dracula,
Vampires, and Kung Fu Fighters: The Legend of the Seven Golden Vampires
and Transnational Horror Co-production in 1970s Hong Kong, Lee
places pressure on the frameworks of the critical valuations used to assess
transnational trash horror (panned hybrids and remakes of culturally
valued horror texts), suggesting that these rigid frameworks are incapable
of encompassing the wide variety of pleasure that these messy works invite
as they bleed across borders.
The Legend of the Seven Golden Vampires is a hybrid genre film, which
is incorporated with the conventions of Shaw Brothers Wuxia films and
Hammer Pictures Dracula cycles. It was made in 1973 and distributed in
the UK and Hong Kong (as well as in the Shaw Brothers Southeast Asian
theatre chains) in July and October 1974, respectively. In this bizarre
transnational horror film, Count Dracula goes to early twentieth-century
China, and Van Helsing (Peter Cushing) teams up with Chinese martial
arts brothers to fight against the seven golden vampires, and ultimately,
Dracula, who took over the body of the Chinese villain, Kahn.
Reading The Legend of the Seven Golden Vampires entails deciding
how we situate the film in terms of its geopolitical and generic positions
in Hong Kong and British film history. Most scholars and historians of
British horror traditions and, particularly, Dracula films, which had been
produced at Hammer Pictures, despise the film as a sad way to end one of
the great horror series (Tom Johns and Deborah Del Vecchio, 1996), or
an unmitigated mish-mash on the level of Tohos Godzilla series (Denis
Meikle, 2008), and criticize that the film has its admirers but it is only a
bizarre footnote in the career of Roy Ward Baker (Geoff Mayer, 2004).
For historians who had sympathized with the fall of the Hammer Studio
during the early 1970s, The Legend is nothing more than a cheap hybrid
genre (produced by Michael Carreras, who took over the studio in 1972)
shamelessly attempting to make easy money using the emerging popular-
ity of Hong Kong-imported martial arts films such as Five Fingers of Death
(1973) and Bruce Lees Fists of Fury (1973) in Britain and America. In
criticizing The Legend as mish-mash, bizarre, and a sad way to end,
these film historians condemn the film both for its lack of logic and failure
to be faithful to the celebrated legacy of Hammer Studios horror tradition.
The author argues that The Legend needs to be examined by theo-
retical frames that more fully account for its transnational cultural work.
The chapter locates The Legend in an imperative position where popular
INTRODUCTION 9
Julia Gruson-Wood
In Dead Meat: Horror, Disability and Eating Rituals, we move from
consideration of generic boundaries to bodily ones. In many ways, one
of the most guarded imaginary cultural borders is that between the abled
body and the disabled one. Gruson-Wood suggests we need to pay closer
attention to the importance of this obsession with disability in horror. She
illustrates how, in particular, representations of eating are a central place
where disability and horror are jointly created. Bringing together a critical
disability framework and cultural studies inquiries into the politics of food,
Gruson-Wood invites us to examine the ways in which representations of
eating are used in horror to construct the disabled subject.
By deploying Bakhtins allegory of human life and death as located
within the functions of the mouth (1968), Gruson-Wood argues that this
genre of horror, by featuring villains who have non-normative eating
rituals, is tacitly and strategically setting about to rouse terrifying repre-
sentations of disability. The first section of this piece engages with horror
in terms of how the meal makes the monster, how gastronomy makes the
grotesque. Following this, the prime role disability plays in horror texts
is addressed by examining how the genre tends to circulate around the
tensions of the threat of its victims being struck by disability and death, as
juxtaposed with its villains who are predominantly presented as disabled.
It is then suggested that the often-disabled representation of horror vil-
lains are characterized and expressed through their abject ways of eating.
This link invites an exploration of the interconnection between
culturally-specific eating rituals, disability and evil in horror texts as they
elucidate the real-life associations made between non-normative relation-
ships to food and the characterization, and even identification, of people
10 S. SIDDIQUE AND R. RAPHAEL
Moritz Fink
The next chapter invites us to consider the ambivalence of this obsession
with bodily difference in the genre, particularly as it intersects with gen-
der. Re-examining the heroines in the films of Robert Rodriguez through
a transnational disability studies lens, in An Eyepatch of Courage: Battle-
Scarred Amazon Warriors in the Movies of Robert Rodriguez and Quentin
Tarantino, Fink suggests these womens disfigurement may interrupt
objectifying scripts of gender and perhaps create empowered imaginary
communities.
INTRODUCTION 11
Whereas Lars von Trier works to dismantle that pervasive medical model
of disability which categorizes difference as deficit, this chapter suggests his
American imitators reify delimiting prejudices concerning the intellectually
disabled. This claim is underscored by comparisons between von Triers The
Kingdom (1994, 1997) and Stephen Kings adaptation of Kingdom Hospital
(2004).
Years before Lars von Triers distinctive interrogation of intellectual hauteur
and statistic-driven medicine had shaped his representation of mental illness in
the films Antichrist (2009) and Melancholia (2011), he turned his attention to
intellectual disability in the television serial The Kingdom (1994, 1997). Von
Trier arranged his films of the late 1980s and 1990s into a series of trilogies
preoccupied with threats to innocence: the Eurocentric films The Element of
Crime, Epidemic, and Europa explore the tragic indoctrination of a neophyte
into corrupted modernity; and the Golden Heart trilogy of Breaking the
Waves, The Idiots, and Dancer in the Dark tracks the nafs progress through
an unjust world. He devised a second-order grouping that associates each
season of The Kingdom with the two films they immediately precede which
highlights von Triers sustained interest in a different kind of innocent.
The melodramatic Breaking the Waves (1996) explores both the social
potentialities and fantastic myths associated with mental retardation,
enabling its cognitively disabled hero to defy convention by marrying and
reveling in sexual fulfillment, then achieve apparent transcendence by way
of martyrdom. The topically similar but much more ebullient The Idiots
(1998) investigates the emotional and spiritual benefits that may accrue
when an ordinary personwhat Rosemarie Garland-Thomson has labeled
the normateintentionally adopts an imbecilic behavioral mode char-
acterized by broken speech, fumbling movements, and socially inappro-
priate spazzing. The Kingdom, which shares these films preoccupation
with intellectual difference and prefigures their harried camera movements
and frenetic editing style, employs a radically different, comi-tragic tone
which enables a class of horror that deftly unites the politics of Breaking
with the radical possibilities of Idiots.
ary J. Ainslie
M
Froma concern with the construction and dissemination of the disabled
body, Ainslies chapter, Towards a Southeast Asian Model of Horror:
Thai Horror Cinema in Malaysia, Urbanization, and Cultural Proximity,
INTRODUCTION 13
turns to the flow of Thai horror into Malaysia, where Thai horror films
are the most frequent and evident representation of Thai cultural products
in that country. First outlining the rise of Thai horror cinema internation-
ally, Ainslie proposes that the cultivation of a pan-Asian horrific image of
urbanization has allowed Thai horror to travel well. Through a close com-
parison with Malaysian horror, the chapter then suggests a degree of cul-
tural proximity between the horrific depictions of these two Southeast
Asian countries which point to a particularly Southeast Asian brand of the
horror film: a model that is best understood through attention to struc-
ture and genre. Despite these similarities however, the chapter also indi-
cates that in the changing and complex context of contemporary Malaysia,
the trauma that is given voice in Thai horror may offer the new urban
consumer an alternative depiction of, and engagement with, Southeast
Asian modernity not addressed by Malaysian horror.
Raphael Raphael
Raphael shifts the geographical lens from the complexities of Thai
nationhood and Southeast Asia to East Asia. His chapter, Planet Kong:
Transnational Flows of King Kong (1933) in Japan and East Asia, sug-
gests that popular American criticism that dismissed unofficial remakes of
King Kong (1933) in East Asia in 1976 and 1977 overlooked the films cri-
tiques of American military power and the subsequent pleasures the films
offered transnational audiences as imagined responses to national trauma.
Raphael examines popular American critical responses to unofficial East
Asian remakes of King Kong (1933) released in 1976 and 1977. These
so-called Bad Kongs attempted to capitalize on international aware-
ness of Dino De Laurentiis widely panned New Hollywood remake King
Kong (1976). Criticism frequently dismissed the films on the basis of their
lack of authenticity and technical prowess. These critical dismissals dis-
avowed the Bad Kongs strident critiques of (American) military power
and their dialog with local/national memories of trauma.
To better understand these ignored aspects of the films, Raphael uses
M.M.Bakhtins theory of the chronotope as a useful frame to consider
King Kong (1933) both as historically-situated production and imagined
space closely associated with crisis (social and economic) and (at least
imagined) resistance to American power. Placing these Bad Kongs in
dialogue with these originary voices helps better explain the transgressive
pleasures these knock-off Kongs offered transnational audiences. A read-
ing of the 1977 Hong Kong release of the Shaw Brothers transnational
14 S. SIDDIQUE AND R. RAPHAEL
production Xing xing wang (Mighty Peking Man) helps illustrate how the
chronotope of Kong is reanimated for local needs and in response to local
social and industrial crises.
Sophia Siddique
Siddique infuses the discussion of transnational horror with a pan-Asian
gaze, and in Embodying Spectral Vision in The Eye argues that The
Eyewith its pan-Asian gazeexplores a series of historical traumas
through spectral visions and forms of embodied knowledge.
It is a fractured vision that yearns for a collective Chinese identity,
one that moves to transcend time (history) and space (national boundar-
ies). The chapter locates this fractured vision within the grotesque bodies
of Mun, a blind Chinese musician from Hong Kong, and her spectral
Chinese-Thai counterpart, Ying. The analysis delves into the implications
of this pan-Asian gaze, touching on both Hong Kongs cultural identity
post-handover and the violent history and social trauma experienced by
minority ethnic Chinese in rural Thailand.
Together, we see in Transnational Horror Cinema: Bodies of Excess and
the Global Grotesque, the troubled movements of these excessive bod-
ies across borders, their uneasy stitching across nations and bodies. This
present volume illustrates ways in which these flows and exchanges invite
us to revise conceptions of generic corpus. Moreover, its authors pro-
vide us with new ways of conceiving of the global, cultural work of the
horrific bodyparticularly cultural scripts associated with disability. The
work also offers new ways to see the intersection between the horrific and
the horrified as these global exchanges negotiate transnational audiences
experiences with culturally-specific and historical trauma. We hope that
this collection will contribute to emerging discourse and discussions of
transnational horror and become a template for further work and new
studies on the topic.
References
Bakhtin, M.M. Rabelais and His World. Cambridge, MA: M.I.T., 1968.
Bakhtin, M.M. The Dialogic Imagination: Four Essays by M.M., translated by Caryl
Emerson & Michael Holquist. Austin: University of Texas Press, 1981.
Carroll, Nol. The Philosophy of Horror, Or, Paradoxes of the Heart. New York:
Routledge, 1990.
Creed, Barbara. The Monstrous-feminine: Film, Feminism, Psychoanalysis. London:
Routledge, 1993.
INTRODUCTION 15
Questions of Genre
CHAPTER 2
MikeDillon
M. Dillon (*)
Department of Cinema and Television Arts, California State University,
Fullerton, CA, USA
DVD cover art in Japan engage in the fairly typical practice of validating
horror through the legitimizing lens of auteurism, and how those practices
are then nullified in the films DVD presentation in the United Kingdom.
From this case study, I look to a broader pattern of disingenuous market-
ing between Europe and Japan that reveals a tendency to disunite auteur
from genre, obfuscating the renegade horror auteur and emphasizing
artificial connections to American torture porn. These dual strategies can
be seen in several peculiar details of Grotesques DVD cover designs in
Japan and the UK.
In brief, Grotesque is about a demented surgeon who abducts a yup-
pie couple and subjects them to various forms of sexual humiliation
and mutilation. There is little to the plot outside of its varying torture
episodes; there is a brief respite in the second-act, during which the
surgeon claims to have gratified his urges and promises to release the
couple; but he goes back on his word and elects to finish them off.
Otherwise a fairly unremarkable and low budget genre film, Grotesque
is perhaps best known internationally for the reaction it stirred up in
the UK.The British Board of Film Classification (BBFC) made the rare
decision to refuse Grotesque a rating certification, effectively banning it
from distribution. The BBFCs then-Director David Cooke justified the
decision thusly:
Unlike other recent torture themed horror works, such as the Saw and
Hostel series, Grotesque features minimal narrative or character development
and presents the audience with little more than an unrelenting and esca-
lating scenario of humiliation, brutality, and sadism. In spite of a vestigial
attempt to explain the killers motivations at the very end of the film, the
chief pleasure on offer is not related to understanding the motivations of
any of the central characters. Rather, the chief pleasure on offer seems to be
wallowing in the spectacle of sadism (including sexual sadism) for its own
sake. (Quoted in Businesswire)
The BBFC ban and its aftermathbest chronicled in a Japan Today arti-
cle by Sarah Cortina (2009)gave the film instant notoriety, prompting
the retail website Amazon Japan to remove Grotesque from its DVD selec-
tion (it has since become available again).2 The controversy, ironically,
proved invaluable in generating worldwide buzz for Grotesque, especially
among its target audience of horror aficionados. Harsh condemnation
22 M. DILLON
Having been extremely conscientious about making a film that would rub
supposedly decent people the wrong way, Im very delighted and honored
that a faraway country is giving us exactly the reaction we were aiming for.
People in Japan may now view the unrated version on DVD.Its the perfect
film for couples, so please pick up a copy and enjoy it. (Quoted in Gigazine;
translation by the author)
Unrated andUnauthorized
At the risk of generalization, promotional materials for extreme horror
often consist of a reliable set of protocols. In her analysis of how the video
nasties were marketed in the UK, Kate Egan notes
how the title of the film, the image on the cover, and the accompanying
cover tagline all work together to achieve [the] highlighting and fore-
grounding of a particular idea and theme, with the image and the tagline
visually and textually literalizing the films title. (52)
She goes on to argue that such bold and lurid poster/cover art is a valuable
area in which to identify several important contradictions in the culture at
large. In the context of Thatcher-era Britain, exploitation film distribu-
tors had struggled against the reactionary politics seeking to censor their
product, and yet their practices were akin to those of ballyhoo mer-
chants enabled by the values of entrepreneurship and profit-making
that informed the marketplace (49).
The following section presumes these huckster-ish impulses in taking a
close look at Figs. 2.1 and 2.2, the DVD cover art for Grotesques unrated
version in Japan, and the cover art designed for the films (unauthorized)
circulation in the UK, respectively. In so doing, I orient Egans argumen-
tation toward a different set of parameters pertinent to this volumes study
of the transnational grotesque. Namely, I look at how bad translations
and a secondary concept: translations in bad faithproduced inconsistent
ways in which auteurism and generic variation were mobilized in the dis-
tribution of horror in the 2000s. With Grotesque we are presented with a
strange example of a film that was marketed for its exceptionalism in Japan,
but was refashioned to highlight its generic proximity to American horror
when adopted by the underground DVD market in the UK.I follow this
with examples of similar cases in which lesser-known European horror cin-
ema has been repackaged as sequels to or spinoffs of successful American
films. To clarify, the subject of this analysis is not Mockbusters, the nick-
name given to low-budget productions that ape mainstream Hollywood
fare and attempt to lure undiscerning viewers with premises and titles
that resemble blockbuster films. Instead, I look at films that, whatever the
intent of their original productions, undergo a significant generic make-
over when marketed overseas.
24 M. DILLON
the renegade reputation of its director, Eli Roth. It also bolsters Roths
subcultural capital among fans and among collectors of taboo cinema;
in purchasing the unrated DVD, people are invited to participate in an
unauthorized viewing experience that incorporates footage deemed too
extreme for the films theatrical release. This, in turn, ties that unauthor-
ized experience to Roths definitive authorship of the work. Furthermore,
the DVD formats myriad bonus features allow Roth to preempt other
26 M. DILLON
(Mis)Translation
This chapter begins with the contention that titles bring a lot to bear on a
films identity. We may shrug and accept that the nuances of language are
often lost in translation, but as Ab Mark Nornes reminds us, translations
play an enormous role in the formation of film canons (4) and project a
great deal of power in shaping a films reception in foreign cultures. In this
section, I shift gears from errors in translation to deliberate untruths in
translation, showing cases in which the marketing of horror in the 2000s,
rather than cultivate transnational cinema, instead routed diverse, unre-
lated films into brand hierarchies dominated by the United States. Another
advantage of a title like Grotesque is that it does not really warrant transla-
tion because it so viscerally captures the essence of the film in multiple
linguistic contexts. 4Digitals DVD reflects this by retaining the original
title. As I show, this does not hold true for other, contemporaneous films.
Grotesque bears no direct connection to Saw or to Hostel, and yet
4Digitalcompelled to market the film independently in the wake of the
BBFC baninvites us to measure our interest in the film in specific relation
to those American titles. And this advertising methodology is visible in the
reverse direction: Japanese distribution companies, too, are wholly com-
plicit in similar strategies when promoting high-concept horror. Figure
2.4 compiles two sets of examples of explicitand monumentally dishon-
estattempts to affiliate low-budget horror films with the Saw series. The
French-Canadian thriller Saint Martyrs of the Damned (Saints Martyrs des
Damns; Aubert 2005) is about a reporter investigating a series of disap-
pearances in a mysterious village. In Japan, Geneon Entertainment retitled
and distributed this film as Saw Zero (Sou Zero). The French-language
DVD is shown here alongside the reimagined Japanese version, demon-
strating how the latter features several visual cues from Saws ad campaigns.
Figure 2.5 shows one example of a typical Saw poster, characterized by a
non-descript background, images of body parts that suggest unexplained
mutilation, and possibly an instrument of torture.
BUTCHERED INTRANSLATION: ATRANSNATIONAL GROTESUQE 31
Fig. 2.4 Samples of European films falsely translated intoSaw-like DVD covers
32 M. DILLON
ker for all violent, ugly movies) is that torture porn itself is ill-defined as
a coherent subgenre. In the most concrete terms possible, we might call
genre a set of textual and aesthetic conventions in storytelling; audi-
ences and filmmakers alike are assumed to be aware of these conventions,
which are employed by a business regime that benefits from the regulation
and categorization of their product. In his seminal study Film/Genre, Rick
Altman outlines the multiple functions of genres: as a blueprint for a films
production, as a structure for its narrative, as a device to help communi-
cate its content to prospective audiences, and as a contract of expectations
with those audiences (1415). In doing so, he argues that the formation
of genres is subject to multiple analytical approaches informed by each
genres contexts of production and reception.
Much of genre studies is premised on the ability of genres to pick up
on shifting contemporaneous attitudes about social conflicts (Grant 1986;
Braudy 109, 179; Schatz 38), making them productive places for access-
ing and assessing tumultuous social anxieties. The conventions of a given
genre are historically and conceptually malleable (Altman 50; Gledhill 64;
Jancovich 2000: 470), as evidenced by their splintering into subgenres
(Neale 9), their formations into hybrids (Altman 43), and other mutations
seen across time periods and across different industries. As Brigid Cherry
notes, the expansion of horror into new categories and its hybridizations
with other genre traditions account for how horror has remained relevant
over many generations (8).
Multiple analytical approaches to a genre must necessarily include no
approach at all, and I must concede that my line of argument presumes
a hypothetical horror audience that subscribes to allegorical, post-9/11
interpretations of torture films. Some may very well dismiss these interpre-
tive frameworks or simply be unaware of them, particularly in Japan, where
viewers maintain a greater distance from American political controver-
sies. American scholars like Catherine Zimmer (2015) and Aaron Michael
Kerner (2015) have shown that torture porn is not reducible to singular
reading strategies (any more than the descriptive phrase post-9/11 can
account for the full complexities of modern American politics). Those basic
notions of conceptual malleability and inconsistent degrees of engagement
are critical when considering the variations within horror that frustrate
efforts to determine a coherent set of parameters. Torture porn is a label
that has been designated very loosely to narratives containing graphic depic-
tions of violenceGrotesque is but one example. Among American films,
these include serial killer movies like The Devils Rejects (Zombie 2005),
36 M. DILLON
The Collector (Dunstan 2009), Vacancy (Antal 2007), I Know Who Killed Me
(Sivertson 2007), The Killing Gene (also known as WZ; Shankland 2007),
and Untraceable (Hoblit 2008). Remakes of the controversial 1970s rape-
revenge films The Last House on the Left (Craven 1972 [original]; Iliadis
2009[remake]) and I Spit on Your Grave (also known as Day of the Woman;
Zarchi 1978 [original]; Monroe 2010 [remake]) were dismissed as torture
porn for their alleged fixation on brutality and sadism that bore none of the
political critiques evident in the originals. Even Mel Gibsons The Passion
of the Christ (2004), despite its obvious theological earnestness, has been
compared to torture porn for its prolonged, voyeuristic sequences of public
bloodletting (von Tunzelmann 2010).
More germane to the discussion here, torture-as-genre has partially or
wholly framed the critical and popular reception of films emerging from
a range of international cinemas. These include French Extreme films
like High Tension (Haute Tension; Aja 2003), Frontier(s) (Frontire(s);
Gens 2007), and Martyrs (Laugier 2008); and films from Tartans Asia
Extreme, including Miikes yakuza dark comedy Ichi the Killer (Koroshiya
Ichi; Miike 2001), and the South Korean revenge thriller I Saw the Devil
(Akmareul Boatda; Kim 2010). Grotesque, too, might be more accurately
described as a splatter film, especially given its obvious lineage to the
Guinea Pig films (Shiraishi himself elects to describe his film as an insane
splatter movie on the unrated DVD jacket).
Do the advertising practices examined in this chapter point to a uni-
fying template with which we can proceed, perhaps by allowing us to
identify what Stephen Neale calls the generic imagethat is, labels,
terms and expectations which will come to characterize the genre as a
whole (49)? It would be inaccurate to reduce torture porns generic
image simply to elaborate sequences of torture; after all, diabolical tor-
ture contraptions are visible in non-horror cinema (James Bond, say,
has escaped his share). Instead, Zimmer (2010) notes that, unlike in
previous cycles of violent films, in the horror genre or otherwise, tor-
ture porn relies on the visibility of bodies in excruciating pain. What
Zimmer calls the production of visibility integral to torture as trope
necessarily impacts the films narrative constructions around scenarios
of torture and the specific mise-en-scne of key sequences. In effect,
these films maximize the visceral impact of seeing bodies suffer, punctu-
ating the sequences with special effects whose simulated destruction of
the human body seem to be the raison dtre of contemporary horror
(Crane 910).
BUTCHERED INTRANSLATION: ATRANSNATIONAL GROTESUQE 37
Grotesuqe
In his study of informal distribution networks, Lobato likens the
straight-to-video market to a slaughterhouse of cinema, lamenting
the tendency for films in this marginal, overcrowded category to be
dismissed as trite and unworthy of study (33). Although my explora-
tions here of obscure horror films do not delineate between straight-
to-video and low-budget (Grotesque, after all, did have a brief theatrical
release), a slaughterhouse seems an apt metaphor for a consumer arena
in which film titles are so routinely butchered in translation. The capac-
ity for bad-faith advertising to (re)produce hierarchies in film culture
suppressing what is potentially radical about foreign horror texts by
Americanizing their appearancespeaks to Lobatos wider examina-
tions into how distribution methods impact media industries and engi-
neer taste. In the case study presented here, Grotesque, while narrow in
its scope, illustrates the ways in which these processes can be facilitated
through error and deceptionthat is, through mistranslation, both
38 M. DILLON
accidental and deliberate. Rather than come away with a clearer under-
standing of what does, or does not, fall within the generic or cultural
parameters of torture porn, we contend with a symbolic error in titling:
Grotesuqefamiliar, but askew.
Notes
1. The films Oswalt identifies by name are: Along Came Polly (Hamburg
2004); Somethings Gotta Give (Meyers 2003); The Texas Chain Saw
Massacre (Hooper 1974).
2. Despite Grotesque never being officially available for sale in the UK,
Amazons UK division does sell region-free versions of the DVD,
imported from Asian markets. As of this writing, a French-language
Blu-ray is also available on the site.
3. I learned of this translation from an article in Sundays Zaman,
which compiles a variety of Hollywood film titles that have under-
gone strange translations in overseas markets.
References
4Digital Asia Expresses Surprise at the BBFCs Decision to Ban Japanese Horror
Film Grotesque. Businesswire, 20 August, 2009. Web. 30 January, 2016.
Altman, Rick. Film/Genre. London: British Film Institute, 1999. Print.
Bernard, Mark. Selling the Splat Pack: The DVD Revolution and the American
Horror Film. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2015.
Braudy, Leo. The World in a Frame: What We See in Films. Chicago: University of
Chicago Press, 1976. Print.
Cherry, Brigid. Horror. London and NewYork: Routledge, 2009. Print.
Chigau, SAW janai (Nope, Thats Not Saw; translation by Mike Dillon).
Shinobi-Enmacho , 6 March, 2017. Web. 30 January, 2016. <http://ameblo.
jp/sinobi/entry 10024235817.html>.
Cortina, Sarah. Bathed in blood. Japan Today, 30 September, 2009. Web. 30
January, 2016.
Crane, Jonathan Lake. Terror and Everyday Life: Singular Moments in the History
of the Horror Film. Thousand Oaks: Sage, 1994. Print.
Dew, Oliver. Asia Extreme: Japanese Cinema and British Hype. New Cinemas:
Journal of Contemporary Film 5.1 (2007): 5373. Print.
Edelstein, David. Now Playing at Your Local Multiplex: Torture Porn. New
York, 6 February, 2006. Web. 30 January, 2016.
BUTCHERED INTRANSLATION: ATRANSNATIONAL GROTESUQE 39
Egan, Kate. Trash or Treasure? Censorship and the Changing Meanings of the Video
Nasties. Manchester and NewYork: Manchester University Press, 2007. Print.
Gledhill, Christine. Genre. The Cinema Book, 3rd ed. Ed. Pam Cook. London:
BFI, 2008. Print.
Grant, Barry Keith. Experience and Meaning in Genre Films. Film Genre
Reader. Ed. Barry Keith Grant. Austin: University of Texas Press, 1986. Print.
Its raining falafel: Hollywood movie titles lost in translation. Sundays Zaman,
2 March, 2014. Web. 30 January, 2016.
Jancovich, Mark. A Real Shocker: Authenticity, Genre, and the Struggle for
Distinction. The Film Cultures Reader. Ed. Graeme Turner. London:
Routledge, 2000. Print.
Jones, Alan. The new blood. Total Film, 113 (2006): 100106.
Kerner, Aaron Michael. Torture Porn in the Wake of 9/11: Horror, Exploitation,
and the Cinema of Sensation. New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press, 2015.
Print.
Lobato, Ramon. Shadow Economies of Cinema: Mapping Informal Film
Distribution. London: Palgrave Macillan, 2012. Print.
Neale, Stephen. Genre. London: BFI, 1980.
Nihon no eiga Gurotesuku ga Igirisu de ko kai-kinshi niittai donoyo na naiyo
datta no ka? (The Japanese film Grotesque has been banned from release in
Englandwhat exactly happened?; translation by Mike Dillon). Gigazine, 20
August, 2009. Web. 30 January, 2016.
Nornes, Ab Mark. Cinema Babel: Translating Global Cinema. Minneapolis:
University of Minnesota Press, 2007. Print.
Schatz, Thomas. Hollywood Genres: Formulas, Filmmaking, and the Studio System.
New York: Random House, 1981. Print.
Toledano, Zev. Extreme Sadism & Violence. The Worldwide Celluloid Massacre.
Web. 30 January, 2016.
Tompkins, Joe. Bids for Distinction: The Critical-Industrial Function of the
Horror Auteur. Merchants of Menace: The Business of Horror Cinema. Ed.
Richard Newell. NewYork & London: Bloomsbury, 2014. Print.
vaderbomb93. Patton OswaltYo La Tengo Hanukkah Show (Part 2). Online
video clip. YouTube, 8 February, 2012. Web. Accessed 30 January, 2016.
von Tunzelmann, Alex. The Passion of the Christ: Not the gospel truth. The
Guardian, 1 April, 2010. Web. 30 January, 2016.
Wood, Robin. The American Nightmare: Horror in the 70s. Horror, the Film
Reader. Ed. Mark Jancovich. London & NewYork: Routledge, 2002. Print.
Zimmer, Catherine. Surveillance and/as Torture in Contemporary Horror.
Conference Presentation. Society for Cinema and Media Studies. Los Angeles,
18 March, 2010.
Zimmer. Surveillance Cinema. NewYork: NYU Press, 2015. Print.
40 M. DILLON
Filmography
Along Came Polly. Dir. John Hamburg. Perf. Ben Stiller and Jennifer Aniston.
Universal Pictures, 2004.
Battle Royale (Batoru Rowaiaru). Kinji Fukasaku. Perf. Tatsuya Fujiwara, Aki
Maeda, and Takeshi Kitano. Tei Company, 2000.
Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs. Dir. Phil Lord and Christopher Miller. Perf.
Anna Faris and Bill Hader. Columbia Pictures, 2009.
Collector, The. Dir. Marcus Dunstan. Perf. Josh Stewart and Andrea Roth. LD
Entertainment, 2009.
Devils Rejects, The. Dir. Rob Zombie. Perf. Bill Moseley, Sheri Moon Zombie,
and Sig Haig. Lions Gate Films, 2005.
Frontier(s) (Frontire(s)). Dir. Xavier Gens. Perf. Karina Testa, Aurlien Wiik, and
Patrick Ligardes. EuropaCorp. Distribution, 2007.
Grotesque (Gurotesuku). Dir. Kji Shiraishi. Perf. Kotoha Hiroyama, Hiroaki
Kawatsure, and Shigeo sako. JollyRoger, 2009.
Guinea Pig (Gin Piggu) series: Devils Experiment (Akuma no Jikken). Dir. Satoru
Ogura. Sai Enterprise, 1985; Flower of Flesh and Blood (Chiniku no Hana). Dir.
Hideshi Hino. 1985; Shudder! The Man Who Doesnt Die (Senritsu! Shinanai
Otoko). Dir. Masayuki Kusumi. 1986; Devil Woman Doctor (Pt no Akuma no
Joi-san). Dir. Hajime Tabe. 1986; Mermaid in a Manhole (Manhru no naka no
Ningyo). Dir. Hideshi Hino. Japan Home Video, 1988; Android of Notre Dame
(Ntorudamu no Andoroido). Dir. Kazuhito Kuramoto. Japan Home Video,
1989; Slaughter Special (Zansatsu Supessharu). V&R Planning, 1988.
High Tension (Haute Tension). Dir. Alexandre Aja. Perf. Ccile De France,
Mawenn, and Philippe Nahon. EuropaCorp. Distribution, 2003.
Hostel. Dir. Eli Roth. Perf. Jay Hernandez and Derek Richardson. 2006. Lions
Gate Films, 2006 (theatrical); Sony Pictures Home Entertainment, 2006
(DVD).
I Know Who Killed Me. Dir. Chris Sivertson. Perf. Lindsay Lohan, Julia Ormond,
and Neal McDonough. Sony Pictures Releasing, 2007.
I Saw the Devil (Angmareul Boatda). Dir. Jee-woon Kim. Perf. Byung-hun Lee
and Minsik Choi. Shadowbox/Mediaplex, 2010.
I Spit on Your Grave. Dir. Meir Zarchi. Perf. Camille Keaton, Eron Tabor, Richard
Pace. Cinemagic, 1978.
I Spit on Your Grave. Dir. Steven R. Monroe. Perf. Sarah Butler, Jeff Branson, and
Andrew Howard. Anchor Bay Films, 2010.
Ichi the Killer (Koroshiya 1). Dir. Takashi Miike. Perf. Tadanobu Asano and Nao
Ohmori. Prnom H Co., 2001.
Jaws. Dir. Steven Spielberg. Perf. Roy Scheider, Richard Dreyfuss, and Robert
Shaw. Universal Pictures, 1975.
BUTCHERED INTRANSLATION: ATRANSNATIONAL GROTESUQE 41
The Killing Gene. Dir. Tom Shankland. Perf. Stellan Skarsgrd and Melissa George.
Vertigo Films, 2007.
Last House on the Left, The. Dir. Wes Craven. Perf. Sandra Peabody, Lucy Grantham,
and David Hess. Hallmark Releasing, 1972.
Last House on the Left, The. Dir. Dennis Iliadis. Perf. Garret Dillahunt, Monica
Potter, and Tony Goldwyn. Rogue Pictures, 2009.
Martyrs. Dir. Pascal Laugier. Perf. Morjana Alaoui, Mylne Jampano, and
Catherine Bgin. Wild Bunch Distribution, 2008.
Eyes of Crystal (Occhi di Cristallo). Dir. Eros Puglielli. Perf. Luigi Lo Cascio, Luca
Jimnez, and Jos ngel Egido. 01 Distribution, 2004.
Passion of the Christ, The. Dir. Mel Gibson. Perf. Jim Caviezel, Monica Bellucci,
and Maia Morgenstern. Newmarket Films, 2004.
Saint Martyrs of the Damned (Saints Martyrs des Damns). Dir. Robin Aubert.
Perf. Franois Chnier, Guy Vaillancourt, and France Labont. Christal Films,
2005 (Canadian theatrical release).
Saw. Dir. James Wan. Perf. Cary Elwes, Leigh Whannell, and Danny Glover. Lions
Gate Films, 2004.
Somethings Gotta Give. Dir. Nancy Myers. Perf. Diane Keaton, Jack Nicholson,
and Keanu Reeves. Columbia Pictures, 2003.
Texas Chain Saw Massacre, The. Dir. Tobe Hooper. Perf. Marilyn Burns, Edwin
Neal, and Allen Danzinger. Bryanston Distributing, 1974.
Untraceable. Dir. Gregory Hoblit. Perf. Diane Lane, Colin Hanks, and Joseph
Cross. Screen Gems, 2008.
Vacancy. Dir. Nimrd Antal. Perf. Kate Beckinsale and Luke Wilson. Screen Gems,
2007.
CHAPTER 3
KevinWynter
Over the past 25 years European art cinema has been increasingly
preoccupied with images of intense graphic violence and explicit sexual-
ity. Unsimulated sex scenes, brutal rapes of men and women, whole cata-
logues of corporeal undoing and bodily pain (flaying, dismemberment,
dissection, immolation, evisceration, debridement), along with seemingly
random, unprovoked, and unmotivated acts of violence have defined the
visual and thematic contours of European art cinema in the years follow-
ing the Soviet Unions collapse and the reunification of Germany after
the fall of the Berlin Wall. The critical response to this divisive period of
filmmaking in post-Wall Europe has been marked twofold by polarized
discussions of these tendentious films and their filmmakers. Terms like
cinma brut, cinema of sensation, cinma du corps, and extreme
realism have variously named this phenomenon, but the term most fre-
quently applied to the films of Bruno Dumont (Twentynine Palms, Hors
Satan), Claire Denis (Trouble Everyday), Philippe Grandrieux (Sombre and
La Vie Nouvelle), and other influential European filmmakers like Michael
Haneke, Gaspar No, and Lars von Trier has been new French extrem-
ity, or its broader, more inclusive variant, the new extremism.1
K. Wynter (*)
Visiting Scholar in Film and Critical Studies, California Institute of the Arts,
Valencia, CA, USA
It was Wood who first noted that, Since Psycho, the Hollywood cinema
has implicitly recognized Horror as both American and familial.9 He sug-
gests that Psycho begins a trend that links monstrosity to the fundamental
institutions of American society, which were seen as the safeguard against
the threat of aliens, invaders, and foreigners in horror films prior to 1960.
Psycho is said to redirect the focus of American fears away from external,
unknown forces, instead relocating the collective anxiety and paranoia of
the nation in familiar sources already within our proximity. Horror films
before Psycho, as Wells explains,
into the body of a childs doll), the figure of the juggernaut killer in the
horror genre eventually distills the prototype of the serial killers psycho-
logical profile down to its basic features while profoundly amplifying the
serial killers violence. If Psycho begins the modern phase of the horror
film in 1960 with the schizophrenic serial killer Norman Bates, then John
McNaughtons 1986 film, Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer, ends the
modern phase of the horror genre and marks the apotheosis of the genres
slasher/serial killer motif in the 1980s as it pushes the serial killers vio-
lence to its logical conclusion. Doubling, in a broad sense, as a bookend to
the horror genres modern period and as a transfer point to the continen-
tal horror film, a close examination of McNaughtons film is essential to
understanding this transitional moment in the history of the horror film.
Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer is a fictional account of the life and
crimes of convicted serial killer Henry Lee Lucas. The film is centered
upon ex-cons Henry and his roommate Otis who share an apartment in
the slums of Chicago, until Otis sister, Becky, comes to stay with them
temporarily as she settles into living in the big city. One night Henry
and Otis go out for a beer; by the end of the night they are in Henrys
car with two prostitutes. Unexpectedly and without provocation, Henry
strangles one of the women and breaks the neck of the other. Later that
night Henry explains to a troubled Otis that there are people in the world
who just have it coming to them. Satisfied with Henrys explanation,
Otis becomes increasingly comfortable with random acts of violence and
murder, culminating in a home invasion where he and Henry murder a
family while recording it on videotape. Driven to near-frenzy from the
pleasures derived from acts of violence, Otis rapes and attempts to kill his
sister. When Henry intervenes, Otis tries to kill Henry as well, but Becky
stabs her brother in the eye with the handle of a comb and Henry follows
by taking the comb from her and killing Otis with it. Subsequently, Henry
dismembers Otis body in a hotel bathroom. That night, Henry and Becky
check into a motel, but the next morning Henry leaves alone. In the films
final shot, Henrys car briefly stops along the side of the road. As his car
pulls away, in center frame, a suitcase appears to have been left on the
shoulder of the road. We can assume the suitcase contains Beckys body.
At the time of its release, the film was deemed controversial for sev-
eral reasons: the verisimilitude of its aesthetic; its departure from the con-
ventions of traditional horror genre filmmaking; and the Motion Picture
Association of Americas decision to give the film an X rating, making
the film virtually impossible to distribute. In an interview accompanying
the rerelease of Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer, the films director recalls
AN INTRODUCTION TOTHECONTINENTAL HORROR FILM 49
that the moment he became aware of the story of Henry Lee Lucas it was
the first time he had heard the term serial killer, adding, This was some
sort of new sickness for our time that people just went around randomly
picked victims and killed them. It was tremendously creepy and tremen-
dously horrifying. McNaughtons instincts (and financial circumstances)
compelled him to take his horror film project in an unusual direction. He
notes, We tried to do something entirely newWhen making a hor-
ror film they usually involve monsters, but we didnt have the money or
inclination to do some sort of outer space movieIndeed this character
(Henry Lee Lucas) is a monster, but a human being.
This recognition of the monstrosity of the human beingor equat-
ing monstrosity with being itselfin the context of the horror film was
not McNaughtons discovery alone. The idea that monstrosity is rooted
in the human being was a theme the modern horror film began explor-
ing in earnest in the 1970s. It is a theme that, in fact, marks the very
modernity of the horror film itself. Though films like The Texas Chainsaw
Massacre and John Carpenters Halloween are exemplary of this impulse,
Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer separated itself by dispensing with the
genres conventional reliance on the categories of pathology, revenge, and
the supernatural to lend meaning to the violence of the monster, while
emphasizing the act of killing and the very conditions of violence itself.14
Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer accomplishes what few horror films prior
to its release were able to achieve by successfully capturing the enigma of
the serial killers logic and transposing it into the horror genre. By trying
to go to the root of the idea of horror, the film calls attention to the
very idea of horror itself and what it means to horrify. What separates a
serial killer film like Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer from a serial killer
film like Halloween, Friday the 13th, or any number of slasher film copy-
cats, is the banality of Henrys and Otis behavior, and the events sur-
rounding their acts of violence.
What is it about focusing upon the banality of the serial killers life
and his approach to his crimes that serves as the conditions of possibil-
ity in cinema for horrifying in the extreme? Not only does Henry:
Portrait of a Serial Killer call attention to the enigmatic aura surround-
ing the violence of real-world serial killers, it also calls attention to hor-
ror as a category of experience. The idea of horrifying in the extreme
or going to the root of the idea of horror is compelling because
McNaughton does not achieve this by amplifying the ferocity of the
violent fantasies in the unknowable, unstoppable killer that typified the
genre throughout the 1970s and early-1980s. Instead, McNaughton
50 K. WYNTER
Without aTrace
The horror genre is reordered by the rise of the serial killer in the mid-
1980s. Two years after Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer shocked audi-
ences, another astonishing film about a serial killer and his banal acts of
violence was released as a co-production between the Netherlands and
France: George Sluizers Spoorloos. A close reading of this film offers a
deeper look into the nature of the serial killers violence, and introduces a
film that, like Hitchcocks Psycho, anticipates many of the motifs that will
come to define the continental horror film.
In his essay A Philosophy of Serial Killing, David Schmid examines
serial killer Ian Bradys 2001 book, The Gates of Janus: Serial Killing and
its Analysis, and Bradys use of Nietzsche and Sade to help organize his
views on living and killing. Schmid notes that, what disturbed commen-
tators about this apparent relation between text and action in Bradys
murders is that it suggests that Brady had developed philosophical justifi-
cation for his crimes.17 In the aftermath of Nazi Germanys collapse and
the fall of Hitler, commentators were all too quick to associate Nietzsches
notion of the bermensche and his ideas behind the will to power with the
objectives of Hitlers Final Solution. As these commentators saw it, the
52 K. WYNTER
literature that Brady had used to construct his worldview was based in a
form of nihilism that lent itself too easily to the atmosphere of violence
that defined the traumatic midpoint of the twentieth century. Schmid
draws attention to a crucial detail in the response to Bradys killings that
seemed to reach beyond the crimes as such, locating them instead within
a tradition of philosophical reasoning. As Schmid notes, quite apart from
the crimes themselves, it was these justificationspredicated on Bradys
readings of Nietzsche and Sadethat made the case so controversial and
so troubling.18 Ultimately, Brady hoped that his actions would be gauged
from a philosophical perspective that was weighted toward the types of
moral relativism and individuality both Nietzsche and Sade championed.
In his book Serial Killers: Life and Death in Americas Wound Culture,
Mark Seltzer argues that public interest in violent crimes in the late nine-
teenth century is marked by a declining interest in criminal acts and a
rising interest in the criminal actor. As focus shifts away from crimes to
criminals, Seltzer believes a type of act (killing) eventually becomes a spe-
cies of person (a killer). The serial killer emerges at this moment in history.
As Seltzer writes:
postcard to Rex and proposes that they meet. Now face to face, Raymond
offers Rex a simple proposition: if Rex wishes to know what happened to
Saskia, then Rex must go through exactly what Saskia went through, after
which all will be revealed. Rex at first refuses the proposition of placing
himself at Raymonds mercy in order to discover the facts of Saskias disap-
pearance. Rex begins beating Raymond and threatens to bring him to the
authorities, but as Raymond tells Rex: You can kill me. I acknowledge
your right to do so. Ill take the risk. But youll never know what happened
to Saskia. Im banking on your curiosity. The idea of curiosity is crucial
here because Raymond does not take this chance blindly or arbitrarily; it is
very much a strategic wager. Raymond is able to bank upon Rexs curios-
ity for one very obvious and immediate reason: Raymond knows Rex has
been actively pursuing the facts of Saskias disappearance for three years.
The mystery behind Saskias disappearance has been an obsession for Rex
to the point that he explains to his new girlfriend that after Saskias disap-
pearance he gave himself two choices: to believe that Saskia is still alive
and to let her live without ever contacting her again, or to let her die and
discover what happened to her. This characteristic of Rexs personality was
clear to Raymond, but this alone would not be enough for Raymond to
risk the repercussions of discovery and its consequences. Raymond was
able to bank on Rexs curiosity because he too is intimately aware of the
power of wanting to know.
The two men drive across the French countryside as Rex considers
the almost assuredly fatal proposal Raymond has made. As Rex contem-
plates the offer, Raymond tells him the following story: When I was
16, I discovered something. Through a flashback we are taken back to
Raymonds childhood where we find young Raymond standing on the
ledge of a second floor balcony as he contemplates jumping. Everyone
has those thoughts, but no one ever jumps. I told myself: imagine youre
jumping. Is it predestined that I wont? So, to go against what is predes-
tined, one must jump. I jumped. We cut back to the cabin of the car as
Raymond tells Rex, The fall was a holy event. I broke my left arm and
lost two fingers. Why did I jump? As Rex is left to ponder Raymonds
question, Raymond begins recounting another jumping episode that took
place 26 years later when he jumped off a bridge into a river to save a little
girl struggling to keep her head above water. He explains to Rex that, at
that moment, he was considered to be a hero to his daughters: But I
thought that their admiration wasnt worth anything unless I could prove
myself absolutely incapable of doing anything evil. And as black cannot
54 K. WYNTER
exist without white, I logically conceived the most horrible deed that I
could envision right at that moment. But I want you to know, for me kill-
ing is not the worst thing.
Rexs need to know compels him finally to ingest a sleeping agent
prepared by Raymond as a condition of learning the truth of Saskias dis-
appearance. In the following scene it is revealed to us what Raymond
meant when he told Rex that for him killing is not the worst thing.
When the sedative wears off, Rex awakens to find that he has been sealed
in a wooden coffin and buried alive. Rex begins screaming at the realiza-
tion of his predicament, then he screams Saskias name as it becomes clear
to him in both body and knowledge precisely how she met her demise.
After a dissolve into a slow tracking shot across a patch of dirt and
grass, we find Raymond outside of his country home sitting on a wooden
bench several yards from his doorstep reading a book and watching his
wife water the garden. Raymonds children are off in the distance playing
and laughing together. The transition from Rex screaming in his final rest-
ing place into the mobile shot of Raymond enjoying a pleasant afternoon
with his family signals that both men are within each others proximity;
in other words, it is clear that Raymond is sitting on top of the very soil
beneath which Rexand presumably Saskiaare buried. It is important
to note that Raymond does not bury Rex and Saskia in a vacant lot or in
some distant woods far from the comings and goings of his everyday life.
He instead buries them beneath his vacation home, where he can remain
in proximity to the bodies of his victims and the achievement of his crime,
which finalizes his mastery over the prohibitory injunction that compelled
him to leap from his balcony when he was a boy.
In an observation that accords perfectly with the meeting between
Raymond and Rex, Schmid writes, For, apart from their egoism, the other
principle distinguishing characteristic of Sadean heroes is their addiction
to self-justification. At the slightest provocation, they will pause in the
midst of their debauches and undertake the most exhaustive (and repeti-
tive) explanation of why they are entirely justified in their chosen course
of action by speaking of the relativity of moral concepts.20 Raymonds
statement to Rex (You can kill me, I acknowledge your right to do so)
works to the benefit of the Sadean hero in a number of ways. In one sense,
the phrase diminishes the punitive content of death by clarifying for Rex
that Raymond understands the possibility of his being killed or punished
is an anticipated consequence in arranging to meet him. In another sense,
by virtue of Raymond expressing his acknowledgement of Rexs right to
AN INTRODUCTION TOTHECONTINENTAL HORROR FILM 55
kill him, rather than according Rex power it instead strips him of agency
and transforms Rexs right to kill into part of the logic of Raymonds
coming forward, and the logic of the crime itself. This is how the Sadean
hero and the serial killer transform death into a positive phenomenon. As
Schmid finally observes, The Sadean hero is not exempt from punish-
ment and death, it is true, but he or she is exempt from feeling victimized
by that punishment.21
Raymonds obsessive calculation of time and body, the choreography of
his movements as he escorts an imaginary victim into his car, the rehearsal
of gestures needed to chloroform his imaginary victim (on his daugh-
ter after picking her up from school, no less), Raymond chloroforming
himself and measuring the time of his unconsciousness, the calculation of
travel time and distance from the point he has chosen to apprehend his
victims (a truck stop) to his vacation home, the calculation of his heart rate
and the successive decrease in its rapidity recorded in a notebook after a
series of practice runs: all of these precursors to a crime, these simula-
tions of the conditions of the transgressive act that remain a mystery to us
until the films penultimate scene, in which we find Rex buried in a box,
exemplifySeltzers statistical person. Raymond, the science teacher, is
a man who has collapsed the categories of work and leisure, of morality
and desire; he is a man of science gone rogue who has transposed the
logic of the experiment from the laboratory to the streets of France. Here
the force of Seltzers point becomes clear: the ground of serial killing is
not located in the displacement of the self across a field of indeterminate
multiplicity, it is instead the concretization of an identity that has reduced
the world around him to a testing ground for the limits of personal desire.
To this end, Raymond diminishes the alterity of the other in two ways: (1)
outright objectification divesting the other of that which makes the other
human; and (2) the reduction of the others identity and subjectivity to
an object of curiosity. Put another way, serial killing is the most profound
expression of individuality in he who most radically experiences his indi-
viduality as totalizing and encompassing of all others.
What distinguishes Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer from Spoorloos? Or,
more pointedly, what distinguishes Henrys violence from Raymonds vio-
lence? In the context of the horror film it would be reasonable to classify
Henry and Raymond as monsters. If we consider the fact that all monsters
are by definition destructive and that their destructiveness is capable of
being variously explained, excused, and justified, then the context in which
the violence occurs gives shape to its experience. For example, though an
56 K. WYNTER
explicit motive is never given for the murderous impulses of Henry aside
from his quip to Otis, some people just have it coming to them, the film
dichotomizes the violence of its characters within an Us/Them represen-
tational schema. The backdrop of socioeconomic depression establishes
moral distance between the spectacle of Henrys crimes and the privileged
position of a presumably middle class audience, emphasizing observation
over identification.
On the other hand, Raymond is an upper-middle class professional and
parent with enough disposable income to purchase a summer home in the
country. His crimes are framed within the context of bourgeois privilege.
Inversely, the representational schema here strongly suggests audience rec-
ognition and identification over observational distance. Thus, the differ-
ence lies in motivation and justification. There are no such motivations and
justifications given for Raymonds crimes, aside from his own skewed sense
of reason. It is this sense of ambivalence around his crimes and the foreclo-
sure of motivations or justifications that might provide enough distance to
move the audience away from an identificatory position into an observa-
tional position that gives the violence in Spoorloos its unsettling character.
Here we see another key point of departure between Henry: Portrait
of a Serial Killer and Spoorloos as a contrast between the cause-effect-
resolution narratives of Hollywood cinema and the tendency toward
realist aesthetics and open-ended narrative structures of European art
cinema. The Hollywood horror film is bound to a paradigmatic struc-
ture and this is why the modern period of the American horror film runs
aground at the moment when the serial killer as type of person emerges as
a new figuration of monstrosity. Within the cause-effect-resolution struc-
tures that Hollywood narrative cinema is predicated upon, the ambiva-
lence and banality of the serial killers motives cannot be fully expressed.
Alternatively, European art cinemas diminished reliance on cause-effect-
resolution paradigms, particularly in its realist modes, affords condi-
tions of possibility for narratively representing the psychic imperatives of
the serial killer and the social conditions that produce him.
Continental Horror
There are four motifs in Spoorloos that are not only crucial to the logic
of the films portrayal of its serial killer, Raymond, and the methodol-
ogy behind his murderous impulses, but also portend the radical shifts
to come in the continental horror films representations of violence.
AN INTRODUCTION TOTHECONTINENTAL HORROR FILM 57
Morbid Curiosity
When asked to explain the impulse behind his crimes, serial killer Jeffrey
Dahmer replied, I want to see what it looks like insideI like to see how
things work.22 Spoorloos is marked by similar forms of negative curiosity
in two ways: Raymonds curiosity around prohibitory injunctions which
are universal (predestination and the nature of evil), and Rexs curiosity
which comes at the expense of everything in his life, and finally, life itself.
Morbid curiosity renders all moral and ethical considerations secondary.
It is a form of curiosity that willingly sacrifices the other, and more radi-
cally the self, to gain a fleeting moment of elusive knowledge. The impulse
that led the young Raymond to jump from his balcony and, many years
later, Raymonds plot to kidnap a woman in order to see if he was capable
of true evil are both examples of morbid curiosity. The power of morbid
curiosity leads Rex to embrace the symbolic death of Saskiathat is, the
notion that Saskias disappearance is an assurance of her deathso that he
may attend to its consuming pangs, and to satiate his desire for knowledge
unencumbered by the distractions of her living body. As Rex puts it suc-
cinctly to his live-in girlfriend as she is collecting the last of her things from
their flat: I need to know, a line that echoes on the soundtrack as the
image fades to black.
The English translation of spoorloos is traceless, and the English
release of the film maintains this sense of immateriality in the title, The
Vanishing. But in France the film was released under the title Lhomme
qui voulait savoir (The Man Who Wanted to Know), though it might
have been more appropriate to title the film, Les hommes qui voulait savoir
(The Men Who Wanted to Know). It is the desire to know for both
Raymond and Rex that compels their actions and the films narrative along
with it. In each case the desire for knowledge outstrips all other consider-
ations, particularly consideration for the individuality of the other and the
valuation of the others being. In Michael Hanekes Bennys Video (1992),
a teenage boy murders a young girl in the family apartment, and his father
elects to cover up the crime. After destroying the girls corpse and flushing
58 K. WYNTER
her down the toilet, the father asks Benny why he killed the girl, to which
Benny replies, I dont know. I wanted to see what its like. Morbid
curiosity is also a dominant motif in Philippe Grandrieuxs serial killer
film Sombre (1998), Marina de Vans In My Skin (2002), and Catherine
Breillats Fat Girl (2001).
The Stranger
A common observation among scholars of the horror genre concerns an
emerging collective fear in the post-1960s horror film: our fear of other
people. This anxiety concerning the threatening other in the horror
films second phase is typically embodied in a figure whom we come to
know through a family member, psychologist, or a law official narrating
his or her identity for explanatory purposes. With Henry: Portrait of a
Serial Killer, Henry and Otis are essentially strangers to their victims
and to the audience, and there are no explanations given to justify their
crimes. Spoorloos pushes this logic further in two ways: (1) The film
eschews any possibility of economic scapegoatism by identifying the
killer as an upper-middle class professional; and (2) The explanatory
process shifts away from the prognoses offered by an objective, sci-
entific perspective, and positions Raymond as the expert professional
who explains his crimes.
Critical thinking related to the category of the stranger as a class of
person in modern urban society notably appears in the work of sociologist
Georg Simmel and his essay The Stranger.23 For Simmel, the strange-
ness of the stranger is not his otherness, but rather his close spatial rela-
tions that are also paradoxically marked by remoteness. It is an uncanny
spatial relation in which the feeling of uniqueness vanishes from the rela-
tionship and is integrated as part of an estranging similarity or generaliza-
tion.24 Following Simmels work, Seltzer points out that, The stranger,
if not quite yet the statistical person, begins to make visible the uncanny
stranger-intimacy that defines the serial killer: the deliberate stranger or
the stranger beside me.
Citing a criminological study of serial murder, Seltzer notes, One of
the most brutal facts of serial murder is that it usually involves the killing
of one person by another who is a stranger. There need be no motives of
hatred, rage, fear, jealousy, or greed at work.25 Finally, Seltzer summarizes
the notion of stranger-intimacy while making a crucial observation that is
relevant to Spoorloos and will later be most relevant in the horror films
AN INTRODUCTION TOTHECONTINENTAL HORROR FILM 59
Contingency
In the opening scenes of Spoorloos, Rex and Saskia are driving along the
French countryside. Low on gas, Saskia suggests they stop at an approach-
ing gas station, but Rex elects to keep going and to wait until the next ser-
vice station. Upon reaching the next service station, Saskia is kidnapped.
The plot point of passing up the first gas station makes clear the role con-
tingency plays in the event of Saskias disappearance. Rexs obsession with
learning the truth of Saskias disappearance and his decision to let Saskia
die in order to gain that knowledge is an example of Rexs attempt to
master the contingencies of a world in which the most heinous acts occur
seemingly without reason or purpose. But the violent contingencies of the
modern world cannot be mastered, nor can the meaning for crimes be
acquired in the same way the psychologist in the epilogue of Hitchcocks
Psycho pathologizes Normans actions. Now, the attempt to gain mean-
ing for a crime leaves Rex buried alive in a coffin, in the very abyss of the
curiosity that once possessed him.
In an interview occasioning the DVD release of Bruno Dumonts
Twentynine Palms, the director also expresses the role contingency plays
leading up to the violent conclusion of his film. In response to the ques-
tion, Is man good or evil? (a question I believe lies at the heart of the
continental horror film) Dumont replies: Man is simply the way he is;
its a question of potential. Education and culture will determine whether
he leans one way or the other. I dont believe in the fatality of evil; thats
what Twentynine Palms says as well. There is no reason for the ending of
the film; its purely a question of coincidence, of chance.
60 K. WYNTER
However, it does lay the groundwork for a revaluation of the films associ-
ated with the new extremism by eschewing the categorical limitations of
extremity and, instead, linking their shared motifs to the extant genealogy
of modern American horror. Any discussions expanding on this framework
will have to account for the phenomenological contrasts between phase two
and phase three horror films. In the present work, I have shown how the
figure of the serial killer (and the logic underwriting his worldview) pro-
vides the transfer point between the horror films distinctly American second
phase and its transnational, continental third phase.
When asked to describe his intentions in making Twentynine Palms,
Bruno Dumont has said, To me, Twentynine Palms is an experimental
project, an artistic projectI see Twentynine Palms as an experiment using
as its basic element, the American horror film. I wager that Dumont
is not the only post-Wall European art filmmaker whose work has been
immediately influenced by the American horror film. The continental hor-
ror film marks the continuation of the modern horror films conceptual
concerns with otherness, monstrosity, and the family, while reconceiving
unimaginable violence as a condition of possibility in everyday life. Robin
Wood has eloquently pointed out that the modern American horror film
would make no sense in a society that was not prepared to enjoy and
surreptitiously endorse the working out of its own destruction.28 On this
account, all phases of the horror film are one.
Notes
1. Horeck, Tanya and Tina Kendall. Introduction, The New Extremism in
Cinema: From France to Europe. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press,
2011: 3.
2. Wood, Robin. Hollywood From Vietnam to Reaganand Beyond.
NewYork: Columbia University Press, 2003.
3. Schneider, Steven Jay. Ed. 100 European Horror Films. London: British
Film Institute, 2007: 20.
4. Schneider, 100 European Horror.
5. Wells, Paul. The Horror Genre: From Beelzebub to Blair Witch. NewYork:
Wallflower Press, 2000.
6. Tudor, Andrew. Monsters and Mad Scientists: A Cultural History of the
Horror Movie. NewYork: Blackwell Publishers, 1989.
7. Wells, 25.
8. Cherry, Brigid. Horror. NewYork: Routledge, 2009: 174.
62 K. WYNTER
9. Wood, 78.
10. Wells, 75.
11. Jancovich, Marc. American Horror From 1951 to the Present. London: Keel
University Press, 1994: 19.
12. Wood, 75.
13. In his book Nightmare Movies, Kim Newman reiterates this point when he
writes, Technically, many supernatural horror film monsters are serial kill-
ers. For Newman, like Wells, the serial killer has emerged as the domi-
nant fictional monster of the late twentieth and early twenty-first
century.
14. In his DVD commentary, McNaughton goes on to offer these important
remarks about his film: We also thought that we would redefine the hor-
ror genre. Yes, we were trying to make a horror film, but [we thought]
were going to try to make one unlike any other. And indeed go to the root
of the idea. If the horror films intent is to horrify, then lets horrify to the
best of our abilities, in the extreme. This sense of horrifying in the
extreme, or going to the root of the idea and redefining the horror
genre through the violence of the serial killer is crucial to the twilight of
the genres modern period.
15. Newman, Kim. Nightmare Movies: Horror on Screen Since the 1960s.
London: Bloomsbury, 2011: 317.
16. See Andrew Monuments 2009 documentary Nightmares in Red, White,
and Blue.
17. Schmid, David. A Philosophy of Serial Killing: Sade, Nietzsche, and
Brady at the Gates of Janus. Serial Killers. Ed. S.Waller. London: Wiley-
Blackwell, 2010.
18. Schmid, 36.
19. Seltzer, Mark. Serial Killers: Life and Death in Americas Wound Culture.
NewYork: Routledge, 1998: 4.
20. Schmid, 65.
21. Schmid, 36.
22. Seltzer, 141.
23. Simmel, Georg. The Stranger. The Sociology of Georg Simmel. NewYork:
Free Press, 1976.
24. Simmel, 405.
25. Seltzer, 42.
26. Seltzer, 43.
27. Seltzer, 107.
28. Wood, 80.
AN INTRODUCTION TOTHECONTINENTAL HORROR FILM 63
References
Cherry, Brigid. Horror. NewYork: Routledge, 2009.
Horeck, Tanya and Tina Kendall. The New Extremism in Cinema: From France to
Europe. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2011.
Jancovich, Marc. American Horror From 1951 to the Present. London: Keel
University Press, 1994.
Newman, Kim. Nightmare Movies: Horror on Screen Since the 1960s. London:
Bloomsbury Publishing, 2011.
Schmid, David. A Philosophy of Serial Killing: Sade, Nietzsche, and Brady at the
Gates of Janus. Serial Killers. Ed. S.Waller. London: Wiley-Blackwell, 2010.
Schneider, Steven Jay. Ed. 100 European Horror Films. London: British Film
Institute, 2007.
Seltzer, Mark. Serial Killers: Life and Death in Americas Wound Culture,
NewYork: Routledge, 1998.
Simmel, Georg. The Stranger. The Sociology of Georg Simmel. NewYork: Free
Press, 1976.
Tudor, Andrew. Monsters and Mad Scientists: A Cultural History of the Horror
Movie. NewYork: Blackwell Publishers, 1989.
Wells, Paul. The Horror Genre: From Beelzebub to Blair Witch. NewYork: Wallflower
Press, 2000.
Wood, Robin. Hollywood From Vietnam to Reaganand Beyond. New York:
Columbia University Press, 2003.
CHAPTER 4
SangjoonLee
S. Lee (*)
Asian Cinema at the Wee Kim Wee School of Communication and Information,
Nanyang Technological University, Nanyang Ave, Singapore
The sad part of this adventure was that we were unable to take advantage
of the opportunities that were at hand, which were considerable. The writer
and the director should have been sent out there at least two months ahead
of production, to tailor the script to the local capabilities. (Baker 2000,139)
Hollywood films over highly refined European art films. These low end
films have been characterized as lacking national identity and failing to
represent nationally-specific culture.
The Legend is, this chapter argues, a by-product of these low end
genres and semantic kung fu elements. Interestingly enough, what had
been considered inferior genre films by the European critics were in fact
a source of pride for Hong Kong producers in the 1970s. In the Hong
Kong film industry, the first co-production with a western film studio
dated back to 1966 when legendary British B-movie producer Harry Alan
Tower produced Five Golden Dragons, helmed by Jeremy Summers, with
the help of Shaw Brothers (The Legend of the Seven Golden Vampires
1314). But, unlike Five Golden Dragons in which Shaw Brothers had
functioned as a mere location partner, The Legend and the subsequent co-
produced film Shatter made Hammer Pictures and Shaw Brothers equal
partners. For the Hong Kong film industry, at a time when the territory
was still a British colony, this was considered a major triumph.
Shaw Brothers theatre chains were located. Thus, a new trend emerged,
and became internationalized as a synonym for Hong Kong action cin-
ema, that is, the kung fu film.
In lieu of the Mandarin-language term Wuxia pian, a Cantonese ver-
nacular kung fu denotes the uniqueness of Hong Kong cinemawith
the term itself in the local dialect, the genre was named as the territorys
very own. Therefore, with the success of Bruce Lees The Big Boss in 1971,
kung fu films gaining of an international currency should be examined as
a small British colonys departure from its Mainland cultural influence and
filmmaking heritage. With their settings in contemporary Southeast Asian
cities and their foregrounding working class characters and values, Lees
unarmed combat films became a most lucrative cycle for Golden Harvest.
According to Rick Altman, new cycles are usually produced by associat-
ing a new type of materials or approach with already existing genres, and
usually associated with a single studio. Soon, single-studio-cycle kung
fu became the industry-wide genre (Altman 1999, 6061).
Kung fu as a cycle, consequently, became the norm of Hong Kong stu-
dios mass-produced genre films, and was regarded and marketed as if it
had been a decade-old tradition, although it was actually a new genre per
se even in Hong Kong. In one sense, therefore, as James Naremore argues
for film noir, critics and studios invented kung fu films in their own
ways, and they did so because local conditions predisposed them to view
America (Hong Kong) in certain ways (Naremore, quoted in Biesen 2005,
9). Furthermore, King Hus statement is worth mentioning here. He said,
Kung fu doesnt mean anythingwu shu is the traditional Chinese martial
art. Kung Fu is like Fu Manchuit doesnt exist anywhere except maybe
in San Franciscos Chinatown (quoted in Teo 2009, 80). With the finan-
cial success of made in Hong Kong kung fu films in the global market-
place, Shaw Brothers and Golden Harvest went global. The European and
American film industries were actively linked with Hong Kong, and kung fu
cinema emerged as a global player.
Run Run Shaw imported and distributed a Danish adult film, Swedish
Fly Girls (1971), in the Hong Kong market. Since Singapore, Malaysia,
and Taiwan had more strict censorship policies, Hong Kong was the only
legitimate market for distributing soft-core porn films. The film was very
successful, and, as a savvy businessman, Shaw instantly recognized the
market potential of such films. The Shaw Brothers cast the films heroine
Brite Tove, a Danish actress, in the studios new production Sexy Girls of
Denmark (1973) shot almost entirely in Copenhagen. Tove then came to
Hong Kong to appear in Kuei Chih-hungs concentration camp film
Bamboo House of Dolls in April 1973 (Bamboo House of Dolls 5262).
Only a month after Bamboo House of Dolls began shooting, the minor
Italian production company INDIEF began shooting a Shaw-INDIEF co-
production, Supermen against the Orient (1973), in Shaw Brothers studio
lots. Supermen against the Orient is another addition to a very success-
ful European B-movie series, Fantastic Supermen, which began in 1967
with Three Supermen against the Goldface. Italian director Bitto Albertini
began his career as a cinematographer, and made his name with these
silly and absurd action-comedies. The series, after its initial success, made
its way into foreign locales such as Three Supermen in Tokyo (1967) and
Three Supermen in the Jungle (1970), then finally arrived in Hong Kong.
Albertini and his crew arrived in Hong Kong in May 1973 (The Legend
of the Seven Golden Vampires 1314). American actor Robert Malcolm
and two Italians, Antonio Cantafora and Salvatore Borghese, teamed up
with Lo Lieh and Shih Szu, two hot properties of Shaw studio. In addi-
tion, in 1973, Warner Bros. co-produced a big-budget project Enter the
Dragon with Raymond Chows Golden Harvest and Bruce Lees Concord
Pictures (Five Fingers of Death 17) and, a year later, Cleopatra Jones
and the Casino of Gold (1975) was shot at the facilities of Shaw Brothers.
In this relatively short span of time, this transnational mode of produc-
tion incorporated semantic kung fu elements: common topics (the theme
of asserting personal respect, dignity, and identity); historical settings (Qing
dynasty China or the British colony, Hong Kong); key scenes (unarmed com-
bat and quick fist and leg movements); character types (working class heroes
with martial arts skills); and familiar objects or recognizable shots (spectacu-
lar ones or sometimes a grotesque body and Martial arts weapons). The
mode also incorporated other existing low end genres such as Horror
(The Legend), Spaghetti Western (The Stranger and the Gunfighter, 1975),
Blaxploitation (Cleopatra Jones and the Casino of Gold), Espionage (Enter the
Dragon, Shatter), Jidaigeki (Zatoichi meets One-Armed Swordsman, 1972),
DRACULA, VAMPIRES, ANDKUNG FU FIGHTERS: THE LEGEND... 75
If defining the western was not as straightforward as might have been sup-
posed, it was as childs play compared to defining the horror film. Unlike
the western, horror films have no distinctive iconography to bind them all
together. They are not limited to any particular historical or geographical
setting: a horror film can take place anywhere (any town, country, planet) in
any historical period (past, present, future). (Hutchings 2004, 5)
Reading theLegend
As discussed above, The Legend does not possess any genre convention
of Hammer Pictures Dracula films. Instead, it added more sequences of
kinetic fighting which were stylishly choreographed by Shaw Brothers
martial arts experts under the helm of Chang Cheh. From a genre stud-
ies point of view, The Legends hybridity can be explained in three distinct
subgenres of the Horror film: Dracula, zombie, and goeng-si, or traditional
Chinese ghost tales. Robin Wood (1996)s influential study of American
horror films of the 1970s and the Dracula films of Murnau and John
Badham highlights the films reflection of sexual repression along with the
human fear of death, compensated for in the vampires immortality. Yet,
The Legend should not be read solely through this lens since the film bor-
rows only the characters (Dracula and Van Helsing) from its genre heritage.
Rather, The Legend can be more productively read as a return of the
repressed people of colonial Hong Kong. In the film, Dracula, taking
over a Chinese villains body (Kah) signifies what Frantz Fanon termed
the colonial elite who replace the previous colonial authorities. Dracula
proclaims, I will return to your temple in your image, Kah. I will recall the
7 golden vampiresI will take on your mental [sic], your appearance, your
image! Dracula, who comes from Transylvania, a land of the unconscious
(Wood 1996), represents the others of western civilization. However,
Dracula in The Legend is British, speaks with a British accent, and is played
by a British actor (John Forbes-Robertson). Therefore, what has been
DRACULA, VAMPIRES, ANDKUNG FU FIGHTERS: THE LEGEND... 77
Epilogue
In the opening sequence, international assassin Shatter (Stuart Whitman)
arrives in Hong Kong to collect his payment. Yet, he soon finds he is
marked for death by his client, a greedy British drug dealer. In the unfamil-
iar city underworld, Shatter has a chance encounter with martial arts expert
Tai Pah (Ti Lung), who is willing to help him. After spending a night at
Tai Pahs place, Shatter sees him practicing martial arts with his pupils. A
lady next to him says proudly, I want to show you kung fu. Tai Pah, he
is a master. Shatter promises to share half of his fee in exchange for Tai
Pahs protection. They fight back and successfully kill a cold-blooded vil-
lain (Peter Cushing) who used Shatter as a scapegoat for a larger political
agenda. Shatter was released both in the U.K. and in Hong Kong in 1974.
Shatter, surprisingly, did not contain any elements of the horror film
traditions that Hammer had built since the 1940s. Michael Carreras, tak-
ing over the directors chair after firing Monte Hellman, wanted to find a
niche in the global market and TV industry. Producing this hybrid action
film, however, Hammer came to the martial arts after the craze was over
(Johnson, 374). Shatter was released in the U.S. in January 1976, and
quickly disappeared. Hammer studio came back to its own mode of genre
film after these series of failures, and produced two final horror films:
Man about the House (1974) and The Lady Vanishes (1978); after which it
closed its production unit. On the other hand, the urge of the Hong Kong
film industry to expand into the international marketto find a market
beyond the traditional market of Chinese-speaking communities that
Shaw Brothers, MP&GI, and Golden Harvest had controlled since the
mid-1950slead to the possible creation of a global identity. Ultimately,
Shaw Brothers made myriad co-produced films between 1973 and 1976
with western film studios. However, none of these films achieved either
commercial success or critical acclaim. To compete with television and
maintain its Southeast Asian market, Shaw Brothers ceased its global co-
production projects. Shaws desire to extend its market to non-Asian ter-
ritories, i.e., Hollywood, was not realized.
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80 S. LEE
JuliaGruson-Wood
J. Gruson-Wood (*)
Science and Technology Studies Program, York University,
Toronto, ON, Canada
from them in other ways, such as through distortions in size, shape, skin
colour, or facial configuration (227). In addition, they can be hunch-
backed, of small stature, burnt or scarred, or missing limbs. Moreover, in
slasher films, as Cantor & Oliver further explicate, killers generally evi-
dence some physical abnormality or distortion that sets them apart from
the characters they victimize (227).1 Hence, the monster-villain can take
on many different shapes, all of them being in some way mentally and/or
physically anomalous. This anomalous nature is explicitly linked to bodies
and selves that are often classified as disabled.
Like the emotion of art-horror, disability theorist Rosemarie Garland-
Thomson discusses how disability generally espouses feelings of fear, defiance,
disavowal, avoidance, abstraction, reverence, concealment, and reconstruc-
tion (337). Garland-Thomson further explains how the ocularcentricity of
modernity, and the tendency to capture conflicting and highly ambivalent
feelings about disability on camera, often leads to a framing of disability as
the symbol for the corruptible and suffering body, which western culture
has both fetishized and denied (337). Thus, is art-horror cultivated through
representing disabled bodies as receptacles of corruption? And if so, how?
As elucidated in his article, Cut Flesh, James Elkins notes how few
pictures of the living conscious body open the skin and reveal what is
inside (109). This is because, the inside is, by definition and by nature,
the thing that is not seen (109). Elkins goes on to explain how western
culture has long been premised on the veracity of keeping the insides of our
bodies hidden. While in horror, the body is gagged, cut, slashed, burnt,
bled, strangled, chopped, shot, decapitated, poisoned, blown up, decom-
posed, possessed, and corroded, within the trajectory of the biomedical
imaginary, wounds and excrements of all kinds are flushed, absorbed, ban-
daged, patched, dressed, stapled, knotted, clamped, and otherwise cov-
ered. Hence, it is the tacit preoccupation of everyday life to keep the inside
concealed precisely because it is perceived as a powerful sign of death
(Elkins 109). This is why, as Elkins states, a corrupted skin is enough
to show that the body is decomposing (124). Thus, as predominantly
picturing the things that dare not be seen, horror is a counter-natural
genre which thrillingly defamiliarizes images of the body by revealing the
inside. For better or for worse, horror is on the cutting edge of cut flesh.
The first A Nightmare On Elm Street (1984) film articulates the corre-
lation between art-horror, corrupted bodies, and inside/outside boundar-
ies. In this film, Freddy Krueger claws his way into teenage Tinas dreams,
first only showing her his sharp metal fingerlike appendages (referred to
86 J. GRUSON-WOOD
as finger-knives) that slash through fabric and scrape down walls. After
moments of this, Freddy shows the rest of himself to Tina, appearing
maimed with his arms growing like long balloons being blown up. He
commands of Tina: look at this. The camera zooms in on his hands
as he cuts off the tops of the fingers of one of his hands with the knives
attached to his other hand. Tina screams. Freddy laughs while lime blood
spurts out of his severed parts.
Throughout A Nightmare On Elm Street, Freddy continues to cut
flesh, and the whole world seems to hemorrhage. We watch Freddy rip his
intestines open; we watch them skirl around, bleed out and close up. We
watch Freddy slash open the bodies of his victims, and in an unadulter-
ated chronicle of total bloody deconstruction of living flesh, we watch his
victims unravel into viscera. When Freddy cuts flesh, the bodies insides
do not just bleed-out, decompose and perish; the body implodes and
subsumes its surroundings. This is most clearly represented when Freddy
kills Glen (the young Johnny Depp) by sucking him into his bed-turned-
quicksand, slashing him up beneath the cameras eye. Seconds pass before
Glenns blood spurts like an upward waterfall that never seems to dam, so
plentiful and continuous that it soaks through the floorboards and drips
into the downstairs living room. Hence, the gore and guts tucked in by
skin are colossal and forceful and messy. These insides live stirring and
prodding within their container. The horror in this belongs to the fact that
once opened, the power and chaos and violence of the inside will claim the
whole of the outside world as its victim.
Freddy makes things that should only happen in dreams bleed out into
reality, making the unbelievable true. Freddy comes to his victims in the
abstract life of sleep, succeeding in the impossible task of killing them with
his finger-knives whilst in this state. Freddy appears out of objects, seems
to be unkillable, and though he often mutilates himself, he seems to be
immune to pain. Hence, Freddys cutting breaks the laws of natural life.
His victims thrash around rooms, convulse on ceilings, and wake up with
deep knife cuts. Accordingly, Freddys cutting slashes the socio-structural
order of things, exposing what dare not be seen is a powerful, dangerous
and sadistic act. It bludgeons, mutilates, maims, and destroys dominant
perceptions of what is commonly known to be real (physical laws) and
culturally authoritative (medical experts, scientists, religious figures). Such
are the horrors of the insides of the body.
DEAD MEAT: HORROR, DISABILITY, ANDEATING RITUALS 87
destruction and vice. This being the case, horror does not often reflect the
positive sentiments that accompany the grotesque. As implicitly tied to the
leaky, disabled body, the grotesque is often represented in horror as ter-
rifying: it is used as a symbol for the slashing open of the contained body.
These were the words and sentiments of Victor Frankenstein who, after
witnessing his creature take its first breath, recoiled in total horror. Victors
description of his creation as a hideous wretch whose appearance caused
him to plummet into an inferno of terror and despair encapsulates how we,
the viewers, are supposed to feel about the monsters in the horror texts
that we consume. As Carroll argues, art-horror requires that the viewers
emotions reflect the emotional responses of the positive human characters
to the monsters (277). Hence, art-horror is formed through the cathartic
potentialities that arise through the viewer becoming the human victim.2
However, in the case of Frankenstein, Shelley narrates the ways in
which Victor (and the rest of the so-called positive human characters of
the novel) exiles his creature, thus turning a once benevolent being into
a murderous monster. Thus, in writing this scene in which Victor abhors
and condemns his creature, Shelley demonstrates the ways in which non-
normative, or seemingly deformed individuals are shunned, perceived
as evil, just because of the way they look. Accordingly, Shelley subverts
Carrolls notion of art-horror by converting the cathartic alignment
from the positive human character to the monster thereby revealing
xenophobia as the true villain.
As defined earlier, monsters are often represented as anomalous and
non-normative. This kind of alignment of abject body with abject charac-
ter harkens back to Kelloggs pronouncement in 1897 that a sound mind
is a sound body (para 8). Thus, the body that is not considered sound is
perceived as signifying a defective soul. Hence, horror and its summoning
90 J. GRUSON-WOOD
Bakhtin describes human encounters as taking place inside the open, bit-
ing, rending, and chewing mouth (281). He continues to explain how
the mouth is one of the most ancient, and most important objects of
human thought and imagery. Here man [sic] tastes the world, introduces
it to his body, makes it part of himself (281). Hence, life is the eternal
movement, the perpetual process, of consumption. And in turn, consump-
tion contextualizes life.
Eating rituals and horror are intimately woven because the genre literal-
izes Bakhtins awareness that, the word to die had among its various con-
notations the meaning of being swallowed or being eaten up (301). As
Hammer claims, a monster is monstrous because of the way he eats (87).
Eating makes the monster because, as Hammer puts it, humans universally
fear and resist being consumed by others (94). From zombies to vam-
pires to cannibals to aliens to shape-shifters to your average human killer
who eats alone or has a vulgar relationship to food, horror cooks up a scare
by aestheticizing eating rituals through the sensibility of the grotesque.
To address Bakhtins metaphor of the mouth further, the way one takes
substances into the mouth does not just communicate life itself, but the pol-
itics of embodied living. As Bakhtin elucidates, consuming food and drink
is a vital way in which the grotesque body is made manifest. Hence, the
grotesque is most tangibly and holistically revealed through eating. Bakhtin
explains how, in the context of the grotesque, eating entails that the body
transgresses its limits, as it swallows, devours, rends, the world apart, is
enriched and grows at the worlds expense (281). Bakhtin considers the act
of eating as causing the body to contravene its bounds, imploding inside/
outside distinctions, and consuming the boundaries between self and other.
This notion of eating rituals as engorging, contracting, expanding, and
masticating the laws of life and the power relations between the self and
the world, is articulated in Coppolas Dracula (1992). After finding his
96 J. GRUSON-WOOD
lover dead, Dracula, who was then still mortal, stabbed a cross and caused
blood to pour out of candles. Dracula catches this blood with his goblet
and wildly consumes it, screaming the blood is of life and it shall be mine
(Coppola 1992). And his it was. Through consuming this blood, this liq-
uid that best signifies passion, suffering, and death, Dracula instantly, and
simultaneously, died and became immortal. Hence, when Dracula swal-
lowed this blood he devoured the worlds-apart nature of life and death,
eternally living as the manifestation of death. By taking blood into his
mouth, the laws of life rend open for Dracula to devour.
Bakhtins allegory of human encounters as the opening, biting, rending,
and chewing of the mouth serves as a succulent way to examine the relation-
ship between horror, monsters, disability, and eating rituals. If the mouth
is one of the most important objects of human thought and imagery, so
much so that it can work as a symbol for the whole of human relations, how
does ones relationship to food articulate, express, and reveal who one is?
Hence, rather than being what we eat, how is eating a performative act
consumed with the evaluatory processes involved in identity formations? If
eating is a performative act, and if horror is preoccupied with representing
the horrors of disability, what can the relationships to food enacted in hor-
ror texts tell us about these representations of disability identity?
The interconnection between eating rituals, disability, and evil in hor-
ror texts elucidates the real-life association between non-normative rela-
tionships to food, disability identity, vice, and monstrosity. While Bakhtin
discusses life as taking place within the mouth, consumption exists within
a regulated and disciplined discursive politico-aesthetic realm which initi-
ates certain subjects as fully human and others as blemishedor as fiend.
As Curtin states, food structures what counts as a person in our culture
(4). Hence, it is not just that one chews, but how one chews and, perhaps
more importantly, what one chews that is of prime importance to what
constitutes person. Accordingly, this section of the chapter will examine
how, through eating, the disabled person is turned into a monster.
growing intestinal tract that lacks the encasement of skin and appears as
sinew. The Blob mutates its blob-like structure in order to consume every-
thing it touches, forever expanding into a mammoth moving appetite, its
consciousness comprising of a singular motivation: to consume.
This seemingly endless hunger is also seen in Night of The Living Dead
(NOTLD) (1968). In NOTLD, the dead come back to unlife as zombies
with the sole motivation of feeding off of humans, gnawing on body parts
like fried chicken wings, drooling over intestines, moaning as they slurp
up vital organs, their bodies splattered like a Jackson Pollock with human
entrails as they fight over who gets to eat corpse for dinner (Gruson-Wood
2011). In this film, zombies are represented as brain-dead, except for
the presence of one gnawing, solitary thought: musteathuman
flesh. These zombies have no regard for table manners and they do not
carry napkins to wipe their dirty, decomposing, bloody mouths. These
zombies are highly contagious biting machines, leaving the bitten with
no chance of remaining human. Thus, in NOTLD, zombies are primarily
articulated as monster-villains by their rude and uncivilized urge to devour
human life. This gruesome gastronomic desire in turn works to enhance
the construction of zombies as severely cognitively impaired.
As agents that feed off the power of death, monsters often engage in
eating rituals that involve either gruesome animal death, human death, or
include forcing their human victims to eat abject substances such as their
own flesh or the flesh of other humans. Some monsters are solely able
to survive through acquiring sustenance through consuming parts of the
human body, thus making their relationships to humans essentially antago-
nistic. Other monsters prefer to eat humans as meat, likening abstinence
with vegetarianism. And human monsters, such as serial killers, engage in
cannibalism for purely cruel and sadistic reasons divorced from sustenance.
All of these abject eating rituals in which villains feed off death, or kill
through feeding work to represent her as abnormal, disabled, or mad.
Before Maryann kills Carl, she gets him to make obscure, extravagant
meals composed primarily of organs, liver, blood, and heart. Maryanns
appetite is not only excessive and bizarre but also limitless. For instance,
when Maryann goes to Merlottes to terrorize Sam, she orders every dish
on the menu and eats it all. Hence, Maryanns boundless hunger and end-
less stomach work to characterize her, much like Pennywise, as an eater of
worlds (King 1990).
Maryann is also often featured wearing smelly dead food items in her
hair and cooking up animals and animal parts that are not commonly
consumed in hegemonic western culture. Maryann also eats humans and
shape-shifters as meat. In one poignant scene, after Maryann attains the
heart of a shape-shifter named Daphne, she sensually makes a souffl out
of it and, unbeknownst to Tara and Eggs, feeds it to them. Tara and Eggs
immediately begin to engorge the souffl, devouring it right from the
dish with their hands, making loud grunting noises. As they are doing this
their eyes go black and they begin to laugh maniacally, beat each other up
and engage in intense violent sex. Maryann is laughing too, as she enjoys
witnessing the bedlam she is able to facilitate.
As Sophie the Vampire Queen states, Maryann believes that she can
only be reunited with her Mad God when, after centuries of altering the
ingredients, she is able to get the recipe just right for her sacrificial
offering (Frenzy). Maryann identifies Sam, the shape-shifting owner of
Merlottes, as the ingredient required to make this happen. It is no accident
that the object of Maryanns desire is the restaurant owner, the prover-
bial owner of appetites in Bon Temps. But Maryann chooses Sam, both
because he has always been able to evade her, and because the Mad God
needs an offering from a supernatural being. In order to do this, Maryann
throws giant rave-like parties with swine roaming around, possessing the
citizens of Bon Temps to become her faithful disciples. While possessed,
the citizens eyes become black, they have orgies, sex with trees, violent
brawls, obsessively make shrines out of dead animal parts, twigs and leaves,
throw their faces into food and dirt, and mindlessly hunt down their dear
friend, Sam Merlotte. Moreover, the citizens trash public property, relieve
themselves in public, spout nonsense, lose all ability to be rational, and
commit random crimes. When the parties are over, the citizens suffer
black-outs, unable to remember anything.
Hence, Maryann represents the antithesis of civilization and gauges her
power through her ability to get the citizens of Bon Temps to destroy
every aspect of civilized life. Maryanns distaste for civilization is foremost
symbolized through her abject eating rituals, in which she eats tabooed
102 J. GRUSON-WOOD
In so doing, they catch Cleopatra poisoning Hans. The freaks plot revenge
and in the end, Cleopatra indeed becomes One of Us. She turns into
the latest sideshow act: a baulking chicken with a womans facethe
only true freak, as she belongs to neither the able-bodied nor the disabled
community.
Like Grimod, these disabled bodiesas unable to partake in the norma-
tive discourse of manners and etiquettehave found solace and joy in the
grotesque aesthetic of eating which, in contrast to True Blood, is not meant
to align malice with madness and madness with animality. For at this feast,
Cleopatra and Hercules are clearly articulated as the monstrous outsiders.
Their feelings of art-horror in witnessing the freaks eat works to cast them
as the villains. As representations of the classical, contained, and civilized
body, Cleopatra and Hercules symbolize the monstrosity of civilization itself,
which within this films context, is considered exclusionary and cruel. Thus,
Cleopatra and Hercules embody normative modes of staring at disabled
bodies, that is, at recoiling at the sight of those bodies that cannot be disci-
plined to enact the required regimes of etiquette. Through the rubric of the
grotesque, the disabled characters in Freaksas the positive human charac-
tersembody the convivial quality of the grotesque ritual of the banquet, and
in so doing, represent one of the first filmic instances of disability culture.10
Conclusion
Horror texts are guided by a particular narrative superstructure in which
the tensions between non-disabled and disabled characters are central.
Most horror texts align with Carrolls assessment of horror as creating a
dynamic in which the viewer aligns themselves with the nondisabled char-
acters fight or flight from the evil villain. I have argued that the evil villain
in horror texts is often represented as being in some way disabled.This
means that the plot and outcome of horror texts generally circulate
around the tensions between the threat of disability and death as the
impending doom of its victims, as juxtaposed with the transfixing pursuit
of its victims escape from the doom of disability and death. Moreover,
as villains are often disabled, horror texts tend to fetishize the fictional
trope of isolating disabled bodies from their able-bodied peers as well as
from each other (McCruer 9). Furthermore, one of the prime ways that
the disability identity of the villain is communicated is through her non
normative eating rituals that often (un)arrange normative e nactmentsof
personhood and reconfigure animal/human relations. Hence, just as the
DEAD MEAT: HORROR, DISABILITY, ANDEATING RITUALS 107
monster is monstrous because of the way she eats, the human is human
because of the way she eats. Horror catalogues the processes in which,
through eating, the disabled person becomes a monster.
Notes
1. There is an endless array of horror texts in which the monster-villain wears
a mask. The mask, as Bakhtin states, is related to transition, metamorpho-
ses, the violation of natural boundaries, to mockery and familiar nick-
names (40). Thus, in horror, the mask symbolizes the monster as an agent
who enacts the transition and metamorphosis of his victims through violat-
ing their natural boundaries of health by instigating illness. In addition to
this, the monster may also sport a mask because anonymity might make his
victims more scared. Alternately, a mask may be worn to hide a profound
facial disfigurement. However, villains may also choose to wear a mask in
order to cultivate a visible identity of deformity, aberration, and wicked-
ness. This is the case, for instance, in The Texas Chain Massacre (Nispel,
2003) where Leather-face dons a mask made as a disturbing homage to
his former victims as it is fashioned as a decoupage from their rotting skin.
Whatever the reason, what mask wearing primarily reveals is that the sensa-
tion of art-horror is often cultivated through a fixation on the petrifying
nature of the monsters anomalous body.
2. Even in horror texts that tend to destabilize this dynamic between positive
human and terrifying monsteras many contemporary vampire narratives
dothis subversion is entirely dependent upon exacerbating the monsters
normative human qualitiessuch as: classical beauty; ideal human-like
bodies; the ability to love a human; the ability to appreciate art and litera-
ture; the ability to dominate their abject cravings, passions, and appetite;
the ability to choose rationality and intellect over emotional urges; the
ability to abide by manners and etiquette; the desire to be human and loath
their vampire state; and the desire to protect innocent humans above their
own kindthat work to make them sympathetic humanized characters.
Accordingly, in these subversive texts, the opposite occurs in terms of pre-
senting certain human characters as monstrous. These humans are mon-
strotized by: letting their emotions dominate their intellect; by being
driven by prejudice which compels them to ruthlessly exile individuals and
enact wild, senseless acts of violence; by being violent against humans con-
sidered weaker than them, such as children and women; by mutilating ani-
mals; by prioritizing hate or anger above love; by displaying a lack of
manners and civility; and by displaying behaviors or exhibiting bodily fea-
tures that compel them to be perceived as mentally ill or physically gro-
tesque. Hence, when the standard antagonism between human and
108 J. GRUSON-WOOD
monster is transgressed, often this rivalry still exists within the individual.
In other words, it is within the person that this battle between human and
monster plays out. Yet the subversive appeal of these texts and their poten-
tial for a post-humanist representation of personhood is undermined by
continuing to value and align personhood with the traits and behaviors
that mark the normative liberal humanist subject. Thus, even in these texts
that seem to mix the standard horror dynamic of good human/bad mon-
ster, Carrolls argument seems to hold.
3. In fact, movies about demonic possession often characterize this possession
by having the possessed character enact a variety of behaviors that mimic
stereotypical representations of people with mental disabilities.
4. Even if the character is infected with monstrosity, this is not presented asthe
characters natural stateit is represented through as being an unnatural
unwanted foreign invasion.Thus, in order to be a character in a horror film,
one generally has to be naturally normal. Yet if the protagonist of the horror
text has been invaded by monstrosity, the focus and emotional attachment to
the text is commonly based upon the desire to view this character shed mon-
strosity and return back to normal. For example, in The Exorcist (1973), when
twelve-year-old Regan is possessed by the devil, it is not her that is the mon-
ster, it is the devil occupying her. This sharp distinction between the normal
human as separate from the evil, monstrous force invading her relates to com-
mon perceptions held about disease. As Foucault (1973) articulates, disease
towards the end of the eighteenth century was differentiated from the suf-
ferer, understood as a wicked life force that was colonizing the mind and/or
body of the healthy human subject. Hence, are the horror texts, in which the
naturally normal human character acquires monstrosity, playing out tradi-
tional narratives of illness as Other and health as Self?
5. As McCruer (2003) notes, disability and queerness are often mutually
negatively metaphorized, with each enacted through the other. Hence, the
soft femininity of Marie-Antoinnette is generally p ortrayed as the often-
targeted victims of horror movies, while the villains are often referred to as
the murderous sans-culottes hags. And accordingly, monsters are often
represented as perverse abject beings, outside of the categories of sex itself:
think Frankenstein (1818), It (1990) and Silence of the Lambs (1991).
6. As Garland-Thomson articulates, monsters and prodigies of antiquity
were either deified or demonized but were always imagined as inspiring
awe and terror (341).
7. In addition to being addicted to V, many humans are fang-bangers, that
is, addicted to having sex with vampires, displaying the trademark fang
marks on their neck or thighs. Vampires are represented as being extremely
sexual and capable of providing sexual experiences far beyond the scope of
a human in terms of pleasure, intensity, and endurance. This sexual desire
is presented with undertones of being non-consensual as vampires have the
DEAD MEAT: HORROR, DISABILITY, ANDEATING RITUALS 109
approaches him to ask why he brought his own food, Hannibal proclaims
that he refuses to eat airplane food.
What these scenes demonstrate is that Hannibal is portrayed as a gour-
mand, a man of taste, a man who, as Coff points out, is supposed to
embody the legal subject. As Jean-Anthelme Brillat-Savarin, proclaimed
in 1826, tell me what you eat: I will tell you what you are while ani-
mals feed man eats, only the man of intellect knows how to eat (Ashley
161). However, Hannibal also happens to be a gourmand with a pen-
chant for human flesh. Thus, the terrifying paradox of Hannibal is that
monsters are not supposed to eat; they are supposed to feed precisely
because they represent the antithesis of the legal subject. That someone
as monstrous as Hannibal embodies the ideal of the civilized eater threat-
ens the stronghold of the notion civility. However, as a connoisseur of
able-bodiedness in both intellectual ability and physical deportment, what
the character of Hannibal communicates is that intelligence, as an unwill-
ingness to embody the norm, may be equally as monstrous and perhaps
more terrifying than disability. Hence, whether disabled or too abled,
horror seems to be centrally about cultivating a cathartic alignment with
the norm. Because it is only those that embody the norm that are articu-
lated as venerable and human.
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Nispel, Marcus. Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Writers: Henkel, Kim, Hooper, Tobe &
Kosar, Scott. USA: New Line Cinema, Focus Features, Radar Pictures, Platinum
Dunes, Next Entertainment, Chainsaw Productions LLC, 2003.
Richards, Penny L. Beside Her Sat Her Idiot Child: Families and Developmental
Disability in Mid-Nineteenth Century America. Mental Retardation in
America: A Historical Reader. Eds Steven Noll and James Trent Jr. NewYork:
NewYork University Press, 2004.
Russell, Chuck. The Blob. Writers: Simonson, Theodore, Linaker, Kay, Milgate,
Irvine, Russell, Chuck & Darabont, Frank. USA: Palisades California Inc. &
TriStar Pictures, 1988.
Scott, Ridley. Hannibal. Writers: Harris, Thomas & Marnet, David. UK & USA:
Metro-Goldwyn Mayer (MGM), Universal Pictures, Scott Free Productions,
2001.
Shelley, Mary. Frankenstein. Ed. Hindle, Maurice. London, England: Penguin
Books, 1818. Print.
Titchkosky, Tanya. Disability Studies: The Old and the New. Disability Self and
Society. Toronto: University of TorontoPress, 2003. Print.
Walker, Ken. Supporters of the Disabled Should Demand Latimers Release.
Canadian Medical Association Journal. 2008: 178(4): 520. Print.
Wallace, Tommy Lee. IT. Writers: King, Stephen & Cohen, Lawrence D.USA &
Canada: Green/Epstein Production, Konigsberg/Sanitsky Company, Lorimar
Television & Warner Bros. Television, 1990.
CHAPTER 6
StefanSunandanHonisch
The image of the well in Ringus video similarly references the traditional
folk-tale Bancho sarayashiki, as well as other cinematic predecessors includ-
ing Onibaba and Ai no borei. In all three films, the corpses of innocent
murder victims are thrown down wells and deep pits in the ground. If we
consider the enduring power of these folktales within Japanese culture, and
acknowledge the tremendous influence that traditional Japanese art and aes-
thetic traditions continue to have on contemporary Japanese cinema, it is
clear that Ringus depiction of Sadako as a vengeful spirit is directly refer-
encing these earlier ghost stories. (Wee 84)
noise and disorder within the realm of the otherworldly. Such a move raises
the question of how horror films render viewers (temporarily) forgetful of
the fact that the otherworldly is, indeed, fictive. Music, sound, and noise
may exceed, and perhaps even disable, the diegesis. Conceived along a
continuum from order to disorder, the soundscape may reconstitute famil-
iar notions of spatial and temporal order in such a way as to fundamentally
weaken reassuring binary distinctions: between reality and fantasy; safety
and horror; controllable sight and sound and uncontrollable sensorial dis-
array; between the reassuring and real invisibility and inaudibility of the
disabled body and its fictional hyper-visibility and hyper-audibility.
Closing ones eyes can be a viewers response to these representations
of horrifying bodily difference, a kinesthetic defense to try to weaken
the effect of horror (Lerner2006; 2010). The viewer assumes that the
accompanying music, sound, and noise will fail to achieve its effect;
dissonance, repetitive patterns, and other gestures typically associated
with the repertoire of horror film depend on the linkage between sound
and sight to register in the viewers mind as unsettling. In the follow-
ing comparative analysis, I explore the possibility that imagining horrific
music, sounds, and noises without making the aural dependent upon
the visual can jolt the spectator out of common sense expectations of
horror films, namely the reliance on sudden stinger chords and other
shock effects (Lerner 2010: ix). The combinations of music, sound,
and noise in Ringu, and to a lesser extent in The Ring, illustrate how the
totality of the aural world in a horror film soundtrack can intensify the
sense of instability and discomfort by driving home corporeal differences
that horror narrates to powerful effect. In what follows, I work through
the multiple textures in the music/sound/noise design of the climactic
scene when the spectral figure manifests within the filmic diegesis with
fatal consequences. For those readers unfamiliar with the overall narra-
tive of these films, the story centers on a series of unexplained deaths
that, as subsequent events make clear, are caused by people watching a
particular videotape, the origins of which are unknown. Upon watching
the tape, viewers receive a phone call with the cryptic message seven
days. Pinpointing the nature of the videotapes deadly effects becomes
the increasingly frantic task of a journalist, Reiko in Ringu, and Rachel in
The Ring. In both films, the journalists ex-husband becomes involved in
this life-saving effort, because their son has watched the film. Both films
thus narrate a time span of seven days.
MUSIC, SOUND, ANDNOISE ASBODILY DISORDERS: DISABLING THEFILMIC... 121
whereas the Japanese version of the tape provides clues that propel the nar-
rative forward, the American version provides little more than formalist
images that must be interpreted by the viewer as much as the characters. The
ultimate purpose of The Rings tape, thus, is inaccessible and indecipher-
able to the viewer without the manipulation carried out by Rachel, which
stands in contrast to Ringus tape, whose logic of interpretation is salient, if
opaque, from the perspective of the audience. (188).
registers the exact moment at which she opens her eyes. Instead, whatever
remained of the musical accompaniment to this scene dissolves completely
into noise. The disabling of the filmic diegesis differs from that achieved
in Ringu through its greater emphasis on aural continuity, and on a pacing
that adheres more closely to linear narrative action. In Ringu on the other
hand, sharp contrasts between music, sound, and sheer noise, emphasize
the horrifying discontinuity that Sadakos physical manifestation brings
into the filmic diegesis, with fatal consequences for the protagonist Ryuji.
The relationship between sound, noise, and music, and the representa-
tion of the horrific body in both the Japanese original and its American
remake, illustrate how sight and the constellation of sound, noise, and
music mobilize transnational horror. The horrific body, as I understand it
in this chapter, is a body at once marked by disability and by extraordinary
non-human ability accentuated through the technological nightmares
etched into the uncontainable spectre shown on the videotape. In her
moment of fixing the character of Ryuji (Ringu) and Noah, (The Ring)
Sadako and Samara perform their bodily difference, escaping from the
discursive constraints of the filmic diegesis which strives to cast them back
into invisibility and marginalizationthe originating pole inhabited by
disabled performing bodies (Kuppers 2003, 48). The irony, here, is that
whereas the stares which fix disabled people have the power to objectify,
they are rarely if ever fatal.
The climactic scenes of both Ringu and The Ring culminate in musi-
cal, sonic, and noisy chaos, vividly illustrating the capacity of aural rep-
resentational systems to produce the disabled body as an instrument of
horror (Parris 3). The transnational presence of Sadako and Samara and
the threat their presence constitutes to the fully human protagonists drive
the shared narrative of Ringu and The Ring. Unlike the other characters
in these films, however, Sadako and Samara are inaudible for virtually
the entire duration of the film, a silence whichas the counterpart to
their noisy, sonic, and musical emergence as horrifying spectaclesrein-
forces their marginal status as neither transnational, nor even national,
but as rejected bodies. Paradoxically, their greatest power lies in an unsee-
ing visuality, inflected to greater and lesser degrees by the technological
aura of the videotape. Samaras representation is rather more inclined
in that direction, as shown in the close-up of her malevolent and fatal,
but ultimately blind gaze. At least one recent commentator has located
Sadakos difference within the human realm of belief, cognition, affect,
and destructive action:
128 S.S. HONISCH
Sada [Sadako] the unmoved Mover dwells in the supernatural realm, con-
taminating the human world owing to her insatiable wrathThe motives of
the ghost stem squarely from the human psyche: vengeance evens the score
between felt grievances in the past and violence in the present, seeking equi-
librium between internal tension and the status quo. (Ma 16)
References
Albrecht, Gary, Kathrin Seelman and Michael Bury. Handbook of Disability Studies.
Thousand Oaks: Sage Publications, 2001. Print.
Attali, Jacques. Noise: The Political Economy of Music. Trans. Brian Massumi.
Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1987. Print.
Balmain, Collette. Introduction to Japanese Horror Film. Edinburgh: University of
Edinburgh Press, 2008. Print.
Brown, Royal. Overtones and Undertones: Reading Film Music. Berkeley:
University of California Press, 1994. Print.
Buhler, James, Caryl Flinn, and David Neumeyer. Music and Cinema. Hanover:
Wesleyan University Press, 2000. Print.
Church, David. 2006. Fantastic Films, Fantastic Bodies: Speculations on the
Fantastic and Disability Representation. Off screen 10 (10). Retrieved from:
offscreen.com.
Ellis, Katie. Disability and Popular Culture. Burlington: Ashgate, 2014. Print.
Gardenour Walter, B.S. Ghastly Transmissions: The Horror of Connectivity and
the Transnational Flow of Fear. Transnational horror across visual media:
Fragmented bodies. Eds. Dana Och and Kristen Strayer. NewYork: Routledge,
2014. 1729. Print.
130 S.S. HONISCH
MoritzFink
In his novella about the American Civil War, The Red Badge of Courage,
Stephen Crane brilliantly caricaturized the glorification of war through
his ironic leitmotif of wounds serving as emblems of bravery and valor,
as signs of belonging to a mysterious fraternity born of the smoke and
danger of death (Crane, 1942, 65). Cranes book is remarkable in that
it reveals such war fantasies to be extremely naive. (To be sure, wounds,
missing limbs, and other bodily damages exhibited by veterans and civilian
casualties are but the most visible signs that tell us about the horrors of
war. Many generations have shared this experience; many books have been
written, many films have been made about it). There are genres, however,
which call for that naive perspective, like the action and horror film.
Especially influential in this regard have been the effects-laden aesthetics
of exploitation horror cinema in the 1960s and 1970s which often capital-
ized on sensationalizing instances of bodily damage and mutilation.
Many thanks to Christof Decker, Benedikt Feiten, Sophia Siddique, and Nils
Osowski for offering helpful comments on various drafts of this chapter.
M. Fink (*)
University of Munich, Munich, Germany
One Eye, or Madeleine as her birth name goes (played by the Swedish
soft-porn actor Christina Lindberg), was raped when she was a child.
Traumatized, she develops a speaking disability and turns completely
mute. The film then jumps to the time when Madeleine has grown up.
We witness how the young handsome woman gets caught in the clutches
of the obnoxious pimp Tony (Heinz Hopf). Tony addicts Madeleine to
heroin and forces her to work as a prostitute. When Madelaine attacks her
first customer in an act of refusal, Tony retaliates by cutting out her left
eye.10 Madeleine thus becomes One Eye and, for the rest of the film,
wears an eyepatch which she aligns with the colors of her outfits.
The plot advances as One Eye learns about the poisoning of her parents.
She suspects Tony of the deed and decides to take revenge. Notably, One
Eyes preparations for her vengeance correlate with a process of emancipa-
tion and self-knowledge: she takes lessons in shooting, martial arts, and
professional driving. The final act of Thriller is devoted to Madeleines
revenge tour, where she tracks down her tormentors and kills them one
by one. Thereby the character has established a central trope of the rape-
revenge genre which Barbara Creed (1993) calls femme castratricea
function that is already anticipated metaphorically as Madelaine is sawing
off her shotgun (see Heller-Nicholas, 2011, 41).
Significantly, Madelaines speaking disability and disfigurement are not
limiting her power but enhancing ita feature by which Thriller departs
from conventional representations of women as disfigured (cf. Lehman
61). First, Madeleines mutenessinterestingly, paralleled in the American
rape-revenge film Ms. 45may be understood as a refusal to participate
in a world that has allowed for a man to rape a little child (thus mirroring
Molinas reading of The Pianos protagonists muteness in terms of isolat-
ing herself from a male-dominated world) (see Molina, 1997). Second,
and even more importantly, the eyepatch invites attention in so far as it
disturbs the male gaze, which Laura Mulvey (1975) has identified as the
dominant form of how representations of women are encoded in film (and
which Thriller is clearly reflecting, for instance, through the hardcore-
porn inserts). As representational object, the eyepatch destabilizes the
visual regime of power regarding notions of normalness, perfection, or
beauty. This corresponds to Mitchell and Snyders observation that [t]he
addition of physical difference to an economy of masculine erotics compli-
cates the issue of desire (and desirability) by disrupting the visual field of
the patriarchal gaze itself (75).
142 M. FINK
Fig. 7.1 Low-angle shot of Madeleine (One Eye) in the cathedral scene fea-
turing a red eyepatch
Fig. 7.2 Long shot of One Eye holding a sawn-off shotgun and ammunition
right before the final shootout
144 M. FINK
Fig. 7.3 Low-angle shot of Elle Driver whistling as she is going to kill The Bride
AN EYEPATCH OFCOURAGE: BATTLE-SCARRED AMAZON WARRIORS... 145
Fig. 7.4 Medium close-up of Elle Driver in a nurse costume as she prepares to
kill The Bride
blends generic formulas and incorporates them into episodic elements that
comprise the whole movie as such. Aside from minor subplots of Elle func-
tioning as avenger (the poisoning of her and The Brides master, Pai Mai,
in retaliation for him having gouged out her eye, as well as her attempted
revenge on The Bride for having an affair with Bill), the eyepatch therefore
primarily serves as a signifier for her cold-blooded, evil nature. Perhaps
similar to the character of Patch from Jack Hills Switchblade Sisters, the
eyepatch associates Elle with the jealous antagonist. In an arena occupied
with Amazons, she thereby becomes the real bad girl, and her character
much more corresponds to the figure of the bitch that Christina Lee
(2010) links to the trajectory of the femme fatale. While the trope of the
femme fatale has its roots in the Hollywood film noir era and is charac-
terized by a seductive, morally corrupted woman whose weapons usually
consist of feminine wiles like sexual allure or social sabotage, the bitch
motif emerges in the late 1980s and early 1990s. Similarly selfish and ruth-
less in nature as the femme, the bitch is typically confronted with a lack
of ideal masculinity around her. As a consequence she appropriates mas-
culine traits like using violence and getting down and dirty, unafraid of
getting hurt or receive an injury (Lee 87, 94).
While Elle is clearly no traditional femme fatale, this link persists by
the fact that her weapon of choice is poison. We not only see her pre-
paring to kill The Bride by lethal injection; moreover, in Kill Bill: Vol. 2
(2004), Elle kills Bills brother, Budd, by means of a black mamba and
we learn that she has poisoned Pai Mai. Finally and also echoing the
146 M. FINK
we witness a scene where Sh has been shot in the eye by one of the films
male villains. Shs character, therefore, is partly motivated by a revenge
theme. Her major function in the first Machete film, however, is to help
Machete take revenge on a Mexican drug lord who had killed Machetes
wife and possibly also his daughter. Significantly, then, in contrast to Elle
Driver, Shs relatively short performance in Machete as reincarnation of
One Eye appears to be in the service of the good, not the bad.
This function is maintained in Machetes sequel, Machete Kills. In the
latter, Robert Rodriguez even makes Sh follow Elle Drivers fate of los-
ing the second eye during an all-Amazon fighting scene.11 Apart from the
different sides the two eyepatched Amazons are on in the respective movie
worlds, what Elle and Sh share is that they are both not the main protago-
nists of the films. Rather, they are auxiliary characters with the eyepatches
functioning as signifiers for their Amazonian identities within a dominant-
male perspective. The main protagonist of Kill Bill is Beatrix, not Elle;
and Machetes narrative is busy with Machetes role as avenger, while Sh
fulfills more the role of his sidekick. Like Elle Driver, she is a solitary type,
not really belonging to the community. This is emphasized in the scene
following the final shootout of Machete where we see Machetes followers
hailing their leader. Here, Rodriguez depicts Sh solo by means of a low-
angle shot which undoubtedly signifies her power, but also her solitary
status (Fig. 7.5).
Consequently, Elles and Shs revenges for their lost eyes appear to
happen just as side notes (or even comic reliefs) in the movies. Similar to
Thriller, however, the narratives of Kill Bill and Machete depict the loss of
an eye as both sensational and crucial moments, even though Tarantino
and Rodriguezs allusions are more superficial and less dramatic in this
respect.12 Nevertheless, whether we call the scenes marginal or sensational,
it is important to remember that both Elle Driver and Shs mutilations
are executed by male handsthey are both victims of male violence. Yet
in contrast to Thriller, the narratives of both films are not about personal
revenges. Instead, the eyepatches mark the characters as gung-ho killers,
as objectified special weapons more or less loyal to some powerful male
agency (Elle Driver is a member of Bills elite killer team, the Deadly Viper
Assassination Squad, and Sh assists Machete in his personal missions).
The eyepatch, therefore, functions mostly as an eye-catcher. It adds to the
phallic symbols that are the sword and the automatic rifle, respectively. The
eyepatch invites the viewer to perceive the characters as idiosyncrasiesas
villainess (Elle Driver) or as a sort of super-Amazon (Sh)and thus works
as prosthesis in the sense Mitchell and Snyder have theorized it. As Jeremi
Szaniawski (2010) has correctly observed for the films of Tarantino and
Rodriguez, the filmmakers feminist efforts remain largely on the surface of
the movies. Their films often negate such messages, for they pay homage
not only to the spectacle-driven cinema of the exploitation film tradition but
also to the superficiality and naivet inherent to exploitation cinema.
In this sense, the portrayal of Sh reinforces the patriarchal gaze. After
the final shootout the camera focuses on her in Bruce Willisfashion, with
smoke and explosions being depicted in the background. Close-ups and
slow motion emphasize the way the camera (and implicitly the male audi-
ence) scans her perfectly shaped body, with a special attention to Michelle
Rodriguezs washboard abs. It almost seems as if it was primarily owing to
the opportunity to exhibit this image of the sexy super-Amazon which
motivated Robert Rodriguez to include the character of Sh in Machete.
Fig. 7.6 Long shot of Cherry Darling after Planet Terrors final shootout
a woman fighter with a leg prosthesis of a special kind, as its main protago-
nist. Of course, the leg prosthesis constitutes already another dimension of
disability compared to the eyepatch, as it affects the appearance of the char-
acter on the whole (visible, for instance, even in silhouette; see Fig. 7.6).
Furthermore, the film both reflects on and deconstructs the male gaze in
ways that are much more convincing than the pseudofeminist efforts exhib-
ited by either Machete or Kill Bill.
Most notably, unlike in the films discussed so far, the maiming of Cherry
Darling in Planet Terror is not caused by some male adversary, but by the
dehumanized (and degendered) force of the living dead. If the desertas
transnational borderlandalready plays a prominent role in both Kill Bill
and Machete, Planet Terror suggests, in the words of its creator Robert
Rodriguez, a whole other world. In fact, aside from portraying rural
Texas as a world out of control, in which humankind has to fight against the
undead, the film suggests a society where cultural and gender hierarchies
are overcome in the face of a nightmarish, dystopian state of emergency.
Nevertheless, Rodriguezs imagery in Planet Terror invokes first of all
a hegemonicmale discourse. The film opens with a go-go dance per-
formance of Cherry Darling, which Rodriguez stylizes as if we actually
watch a cheap exploitation flick, including all kind of dust and noise
on the image, in combination with a mise-en-scne that seems to s imulate
150 M. FINK
words, the prosthesis does not only provide Cherry with an Amazonian
identity (as stigma) but much more turns her into a deadly weapon itself
(as transformation). In a reflexive way, Planet Terror reminds us that this
process of self-knowledge in the form of becoming an Amazonian cyborg
is also the very theme of the movie. El Wrays comment on Cherrys new
identityI need you to become who youre meant to beis clearly
indicative of this. Near the films very finale, Wray reiterates this notion
as he says, Cherry Darling, its all you! As Enrique Garca observes, the
subsequent shootout is truly transcendental: it finalizes [Cherrys] trans-
formation from victim to warrior (149).
In true exploitation film fashion, the key spectacle of Planet Terror,
then, is the machine gun chickan element exploited to great extents
in the Japanese machine-girl phenomenon in the films The Machine Girl
and Tokyo Gore Police (both 2008), Robogeisha (2009), and Mutant Girls
Squad (2010). It would be beyond the scope of this chapter to go into
depth here, but it is worth noting that the Japanese films featuring the
Amazon-cyborg motif mostly follow the formula of the female avenger
who takes vengeance after members of her family have been killed and/or
she herself has been raped and left for dead. Thereby these films draw on
the tradition of the disabled Amazon warrior as it was popularized in the
Onna Sazen films which centered on a female version of Tange Sazen, the
famous one-eyed, one-armed hero featured in many Japanese books and
films in the early twentieth century (see Paghat the Ratgirl n.d.).
As far as Planet Terror is concerned, however, we can say that the film
parodically reflects on traditional genre conventions. Just like the war
against zombies is presented in hilariously exaggerated ways or the rape-
revenge plot becomes parodied in an afterthought, Planet Terror offers a
parodic dimension regarding the beautiful-women-with-guns paradigm as
we know it from exploitation cinema in various national contextsfrom
Japanese yakuza and samurai films to girl-gang films, such as The Doll Squad
(1973) or the Belgian Panther Squad (1984), to rape-revenge films such as
Vibeniuss Thriller (1974) or the American Ms. 45 (1981), and culminating
in the soft-sex productions of Andy Sidaris on Hawaii in the 1990s, Savage
Beach (1989), Fit to Kill (1993), or Day of the Warrior (1996).
Indeed, there exists a rich exploitation tradition of showing sexy girls
with weapons.13 In this sense, Rodriguezs portrayal of Cherry Darling
also satirically envisions what would be the next level of exploitation cin-
ema: the unity of a sexy woman and her weapon into one form. Hence
Planet Terrors premise concerning the disfigured Amazon motif differs
152 M. FINK
from those of Machete or Kill Bill. With her special feature (and, as men-
tioned before, the film thematizes Cherrys personal frustration with her
existence as a go-go girl and her useless talents such as being a flexible
dancer), Cherry Darling leads a group of people out of the horror world
that is Planet Terror. In this sense, the movies ending, again, undermines
the conventional horror film narrative as it does not end with a successful
revengewith a surviving yet solitary Final Girl of some sortbut rather
closes with Cherry and her cohort of zombie-killing mavericks finding
peace in a distant southern land by the sea. Recognized as the Mayan
ruins of Tulum in Mexico, this beautiful and peaceful looking spot appears
to be a sort of utopian Promised Land (as previously envisioned by Wray
in the movie). As Christopher Gonzlez notes in this context, Cherry
thus functions as a Virgen de Guadalupea powerful Madonna for her
people (135). She guards the utopian, communal life for a mysterious
fraternity consisting of men and women alike.
Conclusion
To conclude this chapter: a thought about names. It is striking that the
names of the disfigured Amazons, from the movies of Rodriguez and
Tarantino looked at, emphasize their identity as women: Elle, Sh, Cherry
Darling are aptonymsspeaking names. They demonstrate a sort of
hyper-femininity that juxtaposes with the hegemonic-male world of the
movies. In contrast to Madelaine, who is called One Eye by her tor-
mentors, however, Tarantino and Rodriguezs women are proud of their
names. Cherry calls herself Cherry Darling, and Sh is of course remi-
niscent of the Cuban revolutionary Ch Guevara. Elle, on the other hand,
is the French word for she. That Elle (she) is followed by the name of
Driver further destabilizes the concept of masculinity within the context of
an action film, a genre where usually men are the ones who are the drivers.
In other words, these women have adopted their names rather than being
dubbed by some male agency. This becomes evident in the scene in Planet
Terror when Cherry meets Wray in the restaurant. He first approaches her
with the name of Palomita (Little Dove), whereupon Cherry explains
that she no longer goes by that name because it is the name that Wray had
once given her. Instead she calls herself Cherry Darling.14
The promising names notwithstanding, it is only Cherry who reflects
some sort of emancipation similar to Thrillers One Eye; Elle and Sh,
on the other hand, remain auxiliaries to more powerful men within a
AN EYEPATCH OFCOURAGE: BATTLE-SCARRED AMAZON WARRIORS... 153
Notes
1. For a discussion of hybrid genders and transnationalism in Tarantinos Kill
Bill see, for example, Przybilski and Schlsser (2006).
2. By embedding women with eyepatches Tarantino and Rodriguez have
drawn on a remarkable tradition in film history. The first example is prob-
ably Mrs. Taggart (Bette Davis) from the British black comedy The
Anniversary (1968). The same year saw also the release of the French-
Italian science fiction movie Barbarella (1968) with Barbarellas eye-
patched adversary, The Great Tyrant (Anita Pallenberg). In 1974 followed
One Eye, a year later Patch (Monica Gale) of Jack Hills classic
Switchblade Sisters. Besides Kill Bill and Machete, a postmillennial example
of an eyepatched woman can be seen in Angelina Jolies short performance
as Franky Cook in Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow (2004).
3. For a theory of postfeminism, see, for example, McRobbie (2009); for
discussions of Tarantino and postfeminism, see Coulthard (2007), Cervulle
(2009), and Szaniawski (2010).
4. I did not include the character of Beatrix Kiddo (alias The Bride) in my
analysis. Although she is paralyzed and dependent on a wheelchair at the
beginning of Kill Bill: Vol. 1, this disability is only temporarily and does
not contribute much to the concept to be outlined here. Nor do I con-
sider Sofie Fatale whose arms are cut off when she is tortured by The
Bride. It is interesting, though, to point out that Tarantino uses a close-up
to show Sofies head while a larger framing would have allowed him to
stage another spectacle by revealing her torso in the final scene with Bill in
Kill Bill: Vol. 1.
5. Initially, Garland-Thomson used to not hyphenate her last name. For prac-
tical reasons, Im using the recent, hyphenated version here.
6. As Jeffrey Brown (2004) notes, with shows such as The Avengers
(19611969), Charlies Angels (19761981), Police Woman (19741978),
Wonder Woman (19751979), or, more recently, Xena: Warrior Princess
(19952001), action heroines have also made it to the forefront on TV.
154 M. FINK
spoof commercial show called Chicks Who Love Guns in which bikini-
clad babes parade their favorite machine pistols and automatic rifles
(Botting and Wilson, 2001, 168).
14. As Christopher Gonzlez (135) observes, cherry as another word for
virginity underscores the association with the figure of the Madonna.
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Filmography
Act of Vengeance (aka Rape Squad). Dir. Bob Kelljan. 1974.
The Anniversary. Dir. Roy Ward Baker. Warner-Path, Twentieth Century Fox,
1968.
Barbarella. Dir. Roger Vadim. Paramount, 1968.
Branded to Kill [Koroshi no rakuin] Dir. Seijun Suzuki. Nikkatsu, 1967.
Un Chien Andalou. Dir. Luis Buuel. 1929.
The Doll Squad. Dir. Ted. V.Mikels. Feature-Faire, 1973.
Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill! Dir. Russ Meyers. 1965.
Fit to Kill. Dir. Andy Sidaris. Malibu Bay, 1993.
Foxy Brown. Dir. Jack Hill. AIP, 1974.
Gate of Flesh [Nikutai no mon]. Dir. Seijun Suzuki. Nikkatsu, 1964.
Grindhouse. Dir. Robert Rodriguez and Quentin Tarantino. Dimension, 2007.
Ilsa, She Wolf of the SS. Dir. Don Edmond. 1975.
Jackie Brown. Dir. Quentin Tarantino. Miramax, 1997.
Kill Bill: Vol. 1. Dir. Quentin Tarantino. 2002. Miramax, 2004. DVD.
Kill Bill: Vol. 2. Dir. Quentin Tarantino. 2004. Miramax, 2004. DVD.
Lady Snowblood [Shurayukihime]. Dir. Toshiya Fujita. Toho, 1973.
The Left Fencer [Onna Sazen: Nuretsubame katate giri]. Dir. Kimiyoshi Yasuda.
1969.
Machete. Dir. Robert Rodriguez. Twentieth Century Fox. 2010. DVD.
Machete Kills. Dir. Robert Rodriguez. Open Road Films. 2013.
The Machine Girl [Kataude Mashin Garu]. Dir. Noboru Iguchi. Fever Dreams,
2008.
Ms. 45 [aka Angel of Vengeance]. Dir. Abel Ferrara. Warner, 1981.
Mutant Girls Squad [Sento Sho jo: Chi no Tekkamen Densetsu]. Dir. Noboru Iguchi,
Yoshihiro Nishimura, and Tak Sakaguchi. Nikkatsu, 2010.
One-Eyed, One Armed Swordswoman [Onna Sazen]. Dir. Kimiyoshi Yasuda. 1968.
Onna Sazen: Yoko no maki. Dir. Nobuo Nakayama. 1937.
Onna Sazen: Masho ken no maki. Dir. Nobuo Nakayama. 1937.
Onna Sazen: Tsubanari muto-ryu no maki. Dir. Taizo Fuyushima. 1950.
Panther Squad. Dir. Pierre Chevalier. 1984.
Planet Terror. Dir. Robert Rodriguez. 2007. Senator, 2008. DVD.
Robogeisha. Dir. Noboru Iguchi. Kadokawa, Funimation, 2009.
Savage Beach. Dir. Andy Sidaris. Malibu Bay, 1989.
158 M. FINK
Paul RaeMarchbanks
Von Trier, whose work in film and television since 1984 has spanned mul-
tiple countries and genres, consistently dramatizes scenarios which assail his
characters (and, he hopes, his viewers) by introducing unanticipated variables
into closed, relatively stable psychological and physiological systems. Logic
and the empirical method will only take us so far, von Trier maintains. His
work accordingly tests the limits of the educated and able-minded characters
ability to respond to stress in a productive way. In his first feature film, the
noirish The Element of Crime (1984), detective Fisher methodically applies
his mentors criminological theory to the case of a serial killer, tracing his
SCARY TRUTHS: MORALITY ANDTHEDIFFERENTLY ABLED MIND INLARS... 161
Maybe what weve shown you troubles you. Dont be afraid. Keep your
eyes and ears open and all we can do is try to scare you with stage blood.
Its only when you avert your face that weve got you. Behind closed eyes
SCARY TRUTHS: MORALITY ANDTHEDIFFERENTLY ABLED MIND INLARS... 163
countries educated elite while also positioning his tale at one nexus of the
ongoing, worldwide conversation concerning the relevance of spiritual
variables to physical health. An extended, haunting voice-over during this
opening sequence establishes an antagonistic dynamic between a submerged
spiritual world in which intangible truths from the past are intuited in the
present, and a modern sensibility that recognizes only what can be immedi-
ately, empirically verified.
Though von Triers placement of his tale within the walls of an actual
hospital grounds the narrative in a culturally specific time and place
(Bainbridge 66, 67), the binary between a permanent fog and the best
brains who hope to dispel it signals a conceptual conflict traceable across
the Western world and throughout von Triers work, a near-universal
conflict between empiricist medicine and the metaphysical and affective
domains it deprecates. Here, as in the Scotland of Breaking the Waves
(1996) and the America of Melancholia (2011), a narrowly materialistic
worldview propelled by intellectual hubris ignores the spiritual miasma
surrounding it, only to find its own agenda undermined by that which it
has scorned. As Caroline Bainbridge notes, religious elements and values
become in The Kingdom a means by which the importance of the irratio-
nal domain of affect and its role in the formation of our experience of the
world is highlighted (88).
Those physicians and researchers expert at charting life have, at Rigets
Hospital, formed a secret brotherhood dedicated to ridding the medical
profession of the occult in all its forms, a proscription against sances
and necromancy but also homeopathy, hypnotism, psychiatry, chiroprac-
tic treatment, and other non-invasive forms of therapy that threaten their
SCARY TRUTHS: MORALITY ANDTHEDIFFERENTLY ABLED MIND INLARS... 165
communicates this to Mona who, in the series final episode, spells out
the potentially incriminating half sentences I saw Helmer and Helmer
was, using some alphabet blocks on her bed. With his job in jeopardy
if the truth comes out, Stig Helmer takes drastic measures, bundling up
Mona in a laundry basket and secreting her in the hospitals labyrinthine
conveyor system, from which she fails to emerge.
Von Triers inability to produce a third season of The Kingdom, for which
he had already completed the scripts, allows fans to imagine Mona trav-
eling indefinitely through the bowels of the hospital, communing with
spirits and inhabiting an expanse where others crude prejudices and the
customary limitations to her mobility do not apply. Two additional char-
acters whose perspicacity contravenes their apparent cognitive disability
also occupy this space: a pair of dishwashers with Down Syndrome who
provide a running commentary on the series events. By incorporat-
ing such characters, von Trier caught the wave of post-Americans with
Disability Act interest in cognitive difference sweeping American cinema
in the 1990s,5 at the same time realizing a ten-year-old plan to incorpo-
rate those with cognative disabilities into his work in a way that provoked
thoughtful controversy (Schwander 1617).
Prior to the Americans with Disabilities Act, which would establish
guidelines for proscribing discrimination based on disability, Hollywood
had taken only intermittent interest in such figures. When filmmakers
did handle cognitive difference, the result proved consistently unsophisti-
cated and one-dimensional. The anti-sterilization polemics of Tomorrows
Children (1934), the ridiculously fanciful vision of a simpleton-made-
genius in Charly (1968), and the uniformly comic portrayal of the gardener
Chance in Being There (1979) drew attention to the limitations and needs of
this population, but in exaggerated ways that generated distancing spectacle
instead of humanizing re-evaluation. Those few horror films that incorpo-
rated characters with cognitive disabilities appeared willing to grant such
figures new forms of agency, but often concluded by perpetuating the same
prejudices they had initially appeared to question. Tod Brownings ground-
breaking Freaks (1932) employed four microcephalic sideshow performers
to represent characters not unlike themselves in a carnival troupe, shaping
a narrative that illustrated their necessary function as not only entertainers
SCARY TRUTHS: MORALITY ANDTHEDIFFERENTLY ABLED MIND INLARS... 167
In shaping the roles to be played by these two actors, Lars von Trier
spun old tropes into new garb. Aware that the cognitively disabled charac-
ter habitually appeared in western narratives to serve narrowly prescribed
roles like plot catalyst, wise fool, or moral yardstick (Puccinelli 11), but
also convinced that, as Martin Halliwell notes, the idiot figure is often
a symbolic repository for that which defies categorization (5), von Trier
allows his viewers conventional expectations to settle and harden before
shattering them against his overall design. Some of the resulting shards
resemble what viewers have seen before, while others curve and cut in
unexpected ways.
Unwilling to relegate his unnamed, cognitively challenged characters
to a single function, von Trier first assigns his two dishwashers the famil-
iar, paradoxical role of segregated and emotionally detached fortunetell-
ers who know more about others situations than they do, then stretches
this classical trope to grant the pair considerable powers of introspection,
relatable vulnerabilities, and relational desires. The two appear at irregu-
lar intervals, usually two to three times across each 6070 minute epi-
sode, their mobility bound by the cavernous underground kitchen they
inhabit, and their actions limited to rinsing dishes, placing them in the
plastic crates that pass through the automated dishwasher, and inspecting
them again when they emerge. They possess no scrying glass, or access to
hospital-wide security cameras, yet somehow track all the hospitals events,
both those affecting the living and those that involve the dead. They know
immediately when the resident medium, Mrs. Drusse, has encountered
Marys ghost in the elevator shaft, they anticipate the chaos that will ensue
when three characters plan separately to sneak into the hospitals archives
at the same hour, and they smile knowingly when Dr. Hook becomes
(wrongly) convinced that his temporarily transparent girlfriend, Judith, is
a ghost. When Judith gives birth to the monstrous child she is carrying, a
child with rapidly lengthening limbs and a fully developed head identical
to that of his undead father, the dishwashers anticipate the mixed recep-
tion the demon-like child will receive on the floors above, cryptically com-
menting that The wicked will laugh, the good will cry.
The pairs attitude towards such disquieting events often seems
detached, even callous. In the series eighth and final episode, during
which Judiths beloved child dies at her own hands and Mrs. Drusse dis-
covers a coven of Satan worshippers in the hospitals catacombs, the dish-
washers dance about and observe with laughter, They are ants. They do
bustle about Somebodys poked a stick into the heap to see them run
around themselves. At other moments, however, they appear genuinely
SCARY TRUTHS: MORALITY ANDTHEDIFFERENTLY ABLED MIND INLARS... 169
concerned, disturbed that Marys ghost cannot rest until her cause of death
has been made known, and spooked by the fantastic nature of the events
they observe. Von Trier prevents them from becoming non-individualized,
extra-human commentators akin to the chorus in a Greek tragedy by lay-
ering in enough fragility and desire to establish their particular humanity.
Though von Trier provides no signs of bedrooms or any other domestic
spaces to which they might retreat, they talk of resting at nightfall and
bemoan the need to clean the dishes again when the hospitals flaking walls
spoil the wash, as it will make for a long night. They also betray a profound
need for companionship. In their very first scene, the unnamed character
played by Morten Rotne Leffers reaches out to Vita Jensens character and
strokes her cheek with a gloved hand, a tantalizing bit of contact. This is
followed later by an offer to help her arrange the dishes, an elaborate dance
in the final episode in which they circle one another without touching,
and a successful marriage proposal. Time may appear to stand still in the
unchanging kitchen they inhabit, but the same temporal cycle and emo-
tional needs that shape the other characters actions apparently sculpt their
own existence. More limitations emerge as their apparent omniscience in
the first four episodes dissolves across season two. Their first appearance
in episode five finds them sitting down next to the sink, Leffers character
shamefacedly admitting, I thought I knew it all. Yet I know nothing
The little girl found peace. I thought that was enough. But nothing will
ever be the same after the scream. Prostrated by recognition that Mrs.
Drusses discovery and burial of the murdered Mary in season one failed
to subdue the dark forces infiltrating the hospital, the male dishwasher is
temporarily reduced to an inaction symbolic of his greater inutility as an
observer of events he cannot control.
The dishwashers impotence, however, is far from comprehensive.
The hospitals other inhabitants may remain ignorant of the pairs pre-
science and insight, but the viewer does not privileging us to a rela-
tively disambiguated, in-script declaration of the filmmakers concerns
which both anticipates the shows post-episode reflections and ties The
Kingdom thematically to his other works. Von Trier appropriates the worn
literary device of the wise foolcodified in the West since Shakespeares
King Learand brazenly imbues the resulting figures with spiritual acu-
men. Having allowed their distinctive facial features and stilted speech to
unequivocally signal Trisomy 21 (the common form of Down Syndrome
caused by an extra copy of chromosome 21), von Trier defies audience
expectations by granting the two characters an active and salient power of
deliberation which complements their uncanny foreknowledge.
170 P.R. MARCHBANKS
The two dishwashers cannot alter the trajectory of the weird events
they witness, but they do identify the forces behind those incidents,
expound those forces agendas, and extrapolate shrewd conclusions from
the data they have collected. Though many individuals with some degree
of intellectual disabilities have difficulty distinguishing between the figu-
rative and the literal, von Trier requires his dishwashers to regularly gen-
erate creative analogies connecting their own repetitive tasks with the
efforts of those elsewhere in the hospital who alternately bury or exhume
dirty secrets involving themselves and their familiars. After spontaneously
generating four lines of lyrical verse concerning the hospital archives, the
male dishwasher notes the irony of watching a doctor and medical student
from neurosurgery invade, not a brains deepest recesses, but the secured
archives that house a differentif equally bloodykind of memory. When
his partner notes that a load of dishes has been ruined by falling flakes of
paint, he adds, People can be done for that way, too. This loose, colloi-
dal analogy begins to congeal when he likens Mrs. Drusses search for the
truth about Mary to preparation for a big wash, and solidifies still more
when the washing machine malfunctions and he notes that human affec-
tion can similarly degrade: So can love for children and grown-upsand
goodness and friendship, all these things can wear out and break down.
These insights about the malleability of public and private memory, the
difficulty of discovering truth beneath the grime of conflicting agen-
das, and the unfortunate impermanence of relational bonds arguably lie
beyond the grasp of many able-minded individuals, let alone those living
with enduring cognitive dysfunction. Why assign such useful observations
to individuals unlikely to utter them in real life? It seems likely that instead
of mocking the revealed truths themselves, or those who utter them, von
Trier is again implicitly deriding that modern sensibility that blinds itself
to the moral laws and selfish inclinations he believes inflect all human
motivationwarring forces that should be obvious to everyone, whatever
their intellectual capacity. As with satire, exaggeration becomes a means of
framing a truth that should already have caught the observant eye.
The medical practitioners collective failure to counteract the relent-
less self-interest identified by the dishwashers enables arrogant abuses of
power that spawn murder and mayhem, providing this experiment in hor-
ror with ample gruesome spectacle. The Satan worshippers discovered
in the series final episodewhose hooded members practice medicine
on the upper floors when not performing rituals with severed heads and
naked women far belowneatly articulate their hegemonic position as
SCARY TRUTHS: MORALITY ANDTHEDIFFERENTLY ABLED MIND INLARS... 171
they chant, Let the weak perish that the strong may reign in the Chaos
of Darkness. This violently eugenic sentiment gains heft when echoed by
the once compassionate junior registrar Dr. Hook, whose disposition has
been upended by a Haitian Vodou poison slipped him by Stig Helmer.
The poison, which kills Hook and reanimates him as a zombie, dramati-
cally realigns his priorities to resemble those of the arrogant Dr. Helmer
himself and Dr. Bondo. Convinced that he is too smart for his superiors,
and boasting to a coworker of what his brain can do for the hospital.
My brain, right, Mogge?, Hook proposes a comprehensive purge of the
human detritus lingering in the institutions hallways and patient rooms.
When his girlfriend asks for his help concerning the abnormally elongated
(and intellectually mature) infant son who claims he must die before a
great evil can possess him, Hook ignores the supernatural argument and
proposes immediate extirpation on other grounds:
Hook follows this cruel declaration with action. While he refrains at the
last moment from injecting the disabled Mona with poison to [pare] away
the worst of the hospitals fat, he remedies this oversight in the series last
moments by cutting the hospitals electricity in an effort to exterminate
those other, similar patients whose survival relies on technology.
That Mona and the dishwashers occupy spaces unmapped by Hook at
the moment he flips the switch underscores the limitations of his homi-
cidal project, exempting them from the death that will presumably take
other characters during the blackout, and granting their unique perspec-
tives an authority that lingers after the shows final moments. Von Triers
repeat visits to the spiritually attuned dishwashers throughout the series
has helped him assemble an alternative worldview, a counterpoint to the
growing eugenicism which he suggests is the logical terminus of a medical
model preoccupied with [h]ealth and physical prowess poor crite-
ria of human worth (Hubbard 106). By focusing so much attention on
the moral and spiritual dimensions of human experience, von Trier deftly
proposes a more egalitarian paradigm in contradistinction to those con-
structed upon standardized notions of intelligence, wealth, and power. If
all humanity is susceptible to sin, then, in one sense at least, we together
172 P.R. MARCHBANKS
occupy a level playing field. If, as the male dishwasher asserts, The evil
eyes sow evil in both the clever and the stupid to the extent that we
cannot easily separate the evil born of our environment from that which
we set in motion ourselves, the inevitable conclusion is both horrifying
and potentially freeing: when the female dishwasher slowly murmurs in a
sinister voice, The evil could be me, her partner responds, Yes, maybe
it is us. Maybe it isnt. And our uncertainty is the beauty of it all. The
beauty of this diffusion of evil is that everyone is implicated equally.
The uniqueness of von Triers vision comes into greater focus when
placed alongside one last foil, the transmogrification of his material by
Stephen King for an American audience. The 13-episode Kingdom
Hospital (2004) incorporates the same botched surgeries and murder-
ous vendettas of the originaleven sprinkling in some extra bloodshed
for good measureand presents a similarly consistent challenge to medi-
cal hubris. King does, however, provide the narrative closure Pinedo
rejects for the postmodern project by reinstituting that species of moral
dichotomy which she associates with classic horror films of the 1930s and
1950s (15), at the same time providing a spin on the two dishwashers that
more completely collapses the normative boundaries governing cognition
and physicality. Abel and Krista, the newly christened prophets with Down
Syndrome, gain new occupational responsibilities and far greater mobil-
ity along with their names; they still stack dishes, but also mop hallways,
reactivate the elevators after inexplicable earthquakes, and serve as the
keepers of keys used by others to access inaccessible places throughout the
hospital. Fulfilling von Triers provocative promise of disabled romance,
King releases the two from their subterranean habitat and guides them,
hand-in-hand, through the hospitals corridors, out onto the parking lot,
and into their shared bedroom. He rejects, however, both his precursors
vision of depraved humanity and the postmodern horror films custom-
ary blurring of moral boundaries. A neat binary is set up between Dr.
Hook, who remains compassionate and courageous throughout the series,
and the unrepentantly degenerate Dr. Stegmore (a conflation of Stig
and Helmer).6 Our two seers, meanwhile, serve a vital role in the final
showdown between good and evil by lining up firmly on the side of Mrs.
Drusse and Dr. Hook, and using their newfound magical powers to help
rewrite the hospitals history by saving the ghostly Marys life before it can
be taken. Clearly, much of the nuance in von Triers original drifted to the
ocean floor before the project could make landfall in America.
SCARY TRUTHS: MORALITY ANDTHEDIFFERENTLY ABLED MIND INLARS... 173
Notes
1. Lars von Triers posture towards certain aspects of Christian doctrine and
practice grows more sympathetic after appearing to embrace Catholicism
in the mid-1990s.
2. Though critics often refer to the shows two seasons as separate works, The
Kingdom I (1994) and The Kingdom II (1997), I will occasionally regard
them as a single work unified by plot, theme, and character. Caroline
Bainbridge provides one precedent for doing this (63).
3. The Kingdom brought von Trier his first popular success in a number of
countries, including America. He notes that one screening of the series in
Venice prompted the desired laughter from an international audience
during a scene that mocks the supposedly wide cultural divide separating
Norway and Sweden (Andersen 99). Apparently, his strain of local humor
proved widely accessible.
4. Immediately following a scene in which (non-zombie) Hook discusses the
unreported medical negligence responsible for an array of deaths and inju-
ries at the hospital, von Trier cuts to a shot of the solitary Mona, whose
rhythmic rocking back and forth keeps time with a dripping faucet. Each
drop creates a circular ripple reflected on the ceiling above the filled basin,
174 P.R. MARCHBANKS
a reflection which Mona looks upwards to observe. (This is the only time
in the entire series that she reorients her gaze to look at something in par-
ticular). As in The Element of Crime, Epidemic, and Europa, water appears
to connote deterioration and death, the ripples across the ceiling anticipat-
ing the structural deterioration across the hospital which will grow with
each episode.
5. Public policy in Denmark itself did not follow suit for another decade. In
2004, the EU Employment Equality Directive became Danish Law as Act
No. 1417, expanding the Labor Market Discrimination Act of 1996 by
prohibiting discrimination in the labor market due to age or disability.
6. Despite Stig Helmers plotting, lying, and bold self-interest throughout
von Triers series, Stig does, in rare moments, admit to his failings and ask
forgiveness of his girlfriend. He even expresses regret at having killed Hook
(before the poison has had a chance to resurrect his nemesis). Kings mor-
ally flat Stegmore admits to no personal failings whatsoever.
7. Lennard Davis practice of calling the normate temporarily abled under-
scores the inevitability of disability for all who live long enough (1, 8).
8. David Mitchell and Sharon Snyder label such an association between dis-
ability and the concept it comes to symbolize the materiality of metaphor:
The corporeal metaphor offers narrative the one thing it can not pos-
sessan anchor in materiality conretiz[ing] theory through its ability to
provide an embodied account of physical, sensory life (63).
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Pinedo, Isabel Christina. Recreational Terror: Women and the Pleasures of Horror
Film Viewing. Albany: State University of NewYork Press, 1997.
176 P.R. MARCHBANKS
Responses to Trauma
CHAPTER 9
MaryJ.Ainslie
introduction
This chapter is adapted from the publication Thai Horror Film in Malaysia:
Urbanization, Cultural Proximity and a Southeast Asian Model. Plaridel:
A Philippine Journal of Communication, Media, and Society 12(2).
Such is the case in Malaysia. While Thai pop music and TV-dramas
are beginning to challenge the hegemony of the previous Japanese and
Korean products and are gaining increasing popularity in the northern
region of Southeast Asia and in China, these do not appear to have a
substantial recognisable presence in Malaysia. Rather, it is Thai horror
films which are the most frequent and evident example of Thai cultural
products in Malaysia. The vast majority of Thai films released cinematically
in Malaysia are horror films. Six out of seven Thai releases in the top 200
highest grossing films in Malaysia for 2013 were horror films, and, at the
time of writing, five out of six in 2014. Likewise, a substantial portion of
the Thai DVDs available in Malaysian DVD stores such as Speedy Video
are marketed as horror films, as are the cheaper pirated alternatives filling
market stalls. These outnumber romantic comedies and even the well-
known Muay-Thai boxing films.
Defining Thai and other Southeast Asian films as horror is certainly
difficult given the European origins of the term itself and the various
words used to describe such films in both Thai and Malay. In order to
deploy this term we must move beyond traditional understanding of the
term and recognise the fluidity of genre as a concept. Neale posits that
answering much of the confusion and dispute over genre as a term and set
of categories requires,
The chapter will first address the rise of Thai horror cinema internation-
ally, focusing on its cultivation of a pan-Asian image of urbanization which
allows these films to travel well. Through a comparison with Malaysian
horror, the chapter will then propose a degree of cultural proximity
between the horrific depictions by these two Southeast Asian industries
and a particularly Southeast Asian brand of the horror filmone based
largely upon the effects it is concerned with eliciting. Despite these simi-
larities, the chapter will then indicate that in the changing and complex
context of contemporary Malaysia, Thai horror films may offer the urban
Malaysian consumer a depiction of Southeast Asian modernity perhaps
more appropriate than that represented in the dominant incarnations of
Malaysian horror.
Any discussion of Thai-Malaysian relations inevitably points towards the
southern issue.1 This dominates Thai references to and representations of
Malaysia on both an academic and popular level. However, while the Thai
construction of and attitude towards Malaysia has been analysed through
this issue, there has been very little research addressing attitudes and con-
structions in the other direction: that is, from Malaysia towards Thailand.
Indeed, this is something which becomes significantly more important given
the increased movement of both people and cultural products between these
nations. While Malaysias relations with Thailand have been less problem-
atic and challenging than its relations with Indonesia and Singapore, these
bilateral relations remain very much under-developed (Khalid and Yacob
2012). They are also changing fast due to increased ASEAN integration
under the emerging ASEAN Economic Community. Trade between the
two countries is growing, with tourism from Malaysia to Thailand increased
by 20 percent from 2010 to 2011 while Thailand remains an important
destination for Malaysian exports. This chapter will therefore contribute to
a significantly under-researched geographical and inter-Asian cultural flow
which is becoming increasingly important in the contemporary age.
placing it very much apart from other Southeast Asian film industries and
beginning to explain how these texts have come to have such a substantial
presence throughout the region.
Since the late 1990s, when so-called New Thai Cinema was born,
Thai film has moved away from its position as lower class, provincial
entertainment to a firm fixture in Bangkok multiplexes and at festivals
around the world. Through deploying lavish depictions of old Thailand
in high quality aesthetics, big budget productions such as 2499 Antapan
Krong Muang/Daeng Bireley and the Young Gangsters (Nonzee Nimibutr,
1997), Nang Nak and Bang Rajan (Thanit Jitnukul, 2000) were able to
capitalise on the growth of cinemas in urban areas in the previous decade.
In doing so, they moved Thai cinema to the more respectable swathe of
urban middle class consumers and, likewise, to international festival audi-
ences. Horror played a notable role in this very significant change: the
1999 ghost film Nang Nak was the most successful Thai film made thus
far and forged a definite turning point in the development of Thai cinema.
It was also one of the first Thai films to achieve widespread international
acclaim, winning twelve awards at a variety of international festivals. The
films also had significantly higher production values than previous Thai
horror films, which had largely catered for rural and provincial viewers
outside of the target audience of sophisticated Hollywood productions
(Knee 2005; Ingawanij 2006; Chaiworaporn and Knee 2006).
In the contemporary age, the increased experience of Thai filmmakers
and the decreasing price of film equipment enabled Thai film to become
both better organised as an industry and more profitable as an enterprise
(Ancuta 2011). Filmmakers now work within a well organised streamlined
oligopoly similar to the Classical Hollywood-style production system.
Due to low production costs, this system is increasingly functioning as
an international hub for filmmaking, with facilities often hired by foreign,
notably Chinese, companies. This is evident in the formation of the major
Thai film studios (many of which are conglomerations of previous smaller
companies), including GMM Tai Hub (GTH), Five Star Production,
Phranakorn Film, Sahamongkol Film International, and Kantana Group.
Filmmakers, producers, performers, and writers work under the same roof
for a company that is also involved in distribution.
With these developments, Thai film has arguably become the most inter-
national of all Southeast Asian film industries. As it has become increasingly
globalized in terms of distribution, the subject matter and mise-en-scene
of its productions have also become definitively urban (Siriyuvasak 2000).
184 M.J. AINSLIE
Reflecting the environment and lifestyle of its new primary audience, this
depiction shifted away from both the earlier provincial village setting evi-
dent in pre-1990s productions as well as the heritage aesthetic that had
kick-started the late-90s industry. Productions now began to represent and
engage with the lives of urban professional characters, their lifestyles and
their environment, reflecting what had now becomethrough the network
of urban multiplexesthe primary audience of Thai cinema. Indeed, the
changes on screen reflect the economic changes that Thailand and other
East and Southeast Asian countries have experienced over the past ten years.
Most notably these changes include the movement of rural workers to the
cities, the rise of suburban living and the creation of the Thai middle-classes
who have become the new urban elite.
As well as representing general social changes within Thailand and
the Asia region, the shift in Thai cultural products to address and depict
the urban professional was also part of the successful incorporation of
East Asian aesthetics into Thai cultural products. High quality East Asian
products had long targeted the urban middle-class Asian consumer. These
products travelled well due to the growing economic proximity of the East
and Southeast Asian nations. Many such products are part of the much
studied Korean Wave: the exporting of Korean TV dramas, films, pop
music and stars throughout the region during the mid-to-late 2000s which
replaced the previously dominant Japanese cultural products. Although
such products may be most well-known through historical dramas such
as the phenomenally successful Dae Jung Geum/Jewel in the Palace (Lee
Byung-hoon, 20032004) series, these texts also place a strong emphasis
on depicting metropolitan life, an urban mise-en-scene of coffee shops and
offices as well as professionally competitive characters and, most signifi-
cantly perhaps, the depiction of a new metrosexualized Asian masculinity
which has led to much analysis of changing masculine and feminine depic-
tions across East and Southeast Asia (see Thu Ha Ngo, 2015, for more
discussion of this). Likewise, Thai cultural products have also changed to
depict such subject matter in terms of plots and mise-en-scene.2
Notably, this change in depiction is most evident in Thai horror movies
and romantic comedies, the contemporary incarnation of which are nota-
bly urban-based and deal with issues facing city residents. Romantic com-
edies such as 30+ Soht On Sale/30+ Single On Sale (Puttipong Pormsaka
Na-Sakonnakorn, 2011), ATM: Er Rak Error/ATM (Mez Tharatorn,
2012) and Bangkok Traffic Love Story/Rot Fai Fa Ma Ha Na Thoe (Adisorn
Tresirikasem, 2009) are set largely within an urban city environment
TOWARDS ASOUTHEAST ASIAN MODEL OFHORROR: THAI HORROR CINEMA... 185
While Thai films in general travel well due to their adept international
image of Asian modernity and urban life, it is Thai horror which is most
visible in Malaysia. Studying horror films in Thailand and Malaysia indi-
cates that there are particular commonalities between them which make
Thai horror films especially appropriate to a Southeast Asian, and spe-
cifically Malaysian, context. Certainly, both the high quality global
aesthetics and the pan-Asian urbanness of Thai horror seem particularly
appropriate to the social experiences of fellow ASEAN nations such as
Malaysia. As in Thailand, the urban Malaysian population has increased
substantially since the 1970s, growing rapidly throughout the 1980s and
1990s. The rate of urbanization and consumption is high, while the popu-
lation is relatively young and well-connected media-wise (JWT Asia Pacific
and A.T. Kearney 2013). Moreover, Malaysia also boasts a thriving and
successful film industry which has grown significantly in the twenty-first
century and in which horror films are especially popular. Writing in 2012,
the Free Malaysia Today website stated that Three of Malaysias six top-
grossing films are fright flicks made in the past two years, and the genre
made up more than a third of domestic movies in 20113 indicating that
the national success of Malaysian horror films is impressive.
In achieving major box office success and winning several awards, the
2004 production Pontianak Harum Sundal Malam/Fragrant Night
Vampire (Shuhaimi Baba, 2004) which followed a murdered woman seek-
ing revenge as a Pontianak ghost/spirit, was seen as ushering in a new
era for Malaysian horror. Since then the success of the horror film has con-
tinued to grow. The 2007 production Jangan Pandang Belakang (Ahmad
Idham, 2007) held the record for the highest-grossing Malaysian film
for three years. Congkak (Ahmad Idham, 2008) did similarly well, reach-
ing number 30 on the 2008 box office chart and, notably, out-grossing
Twilight (Catherine Hardwicke, 2008). Capitalising upon the success of
these two films, director Ahmad Idham then released Jangan Pandang
Belakang Congkak/Dont look back, Congkak (Ahmad Idham, 2009). The
film (a comedy horror spoof of the earlier successful horror films Jangan
Pandang Belakang/Dont Look Behind and Congkak) became the highest-
grossing Malaysian film ever. In 2010 Hantu kak limah balik rumah/Kak
Limahs Ghost Has Gone Home (Mamat Khalid, 2010), a sequel to the
smaller Zombi kampung Pisang/Zombies from Banana Village (2008),
188 M.J. AINSLIE
won several Malaysian awards and is included in lists of the top ten highest
grossing Malaysian films ever. Ngangkung (Ismail Bob Hasim, 2010) was
the highest-grossing film of 2010 while Hantu Bonceng (Ahmad Idham,
2011) was Malaysias highest-grossing horror movie until that point
(and its third highest-grossing film overall). Khurafat: Perjanjian syaitan
(Syamsul Yusof, 2011), which tells the story of a community practicing
black magic for their own gain, was also very successful. The popularity
of horror is such that it is also deliberately used to garner high box office
takings. Shariman notes how horror films are now a particularly important
source of revenue in the Malaysian film industry: Even a poorly made
horror movie can make lots of money if properly promoted. One good
example was the recent low-budget Momok The Movie. It made RM2.1
million [approx. 600,000USD].4
Analysis indicates that there is a possible degree of cultural proximity
between Thai and Malaysian horror films. Cultural proximity is a com-
plex and controversial concept often used to explain the success of the
Korean Wave across East Asia. Scholars and journalists point to the shared
Confucian values, urban setting and pan-Asian depictions in these texts, all
of which are common to East Asian societies (which is the overwhelming
market for these products) as a significant part of their pan-Asian appeal
(Shim 2008; Chon 2001; Heo 2002). However, such conclusions do not
account for the attraction of difference within this equation or the pop-
ularity of such products across other more culturally and geographically
distant nations (see, for example, Ainslie 2015). The application of this
concept to Southeast Asia is complex: Southeast Asianness does not yet
constitute a popular or political category through which such a cultural
representation can be constructed. Yet close analysis of Thai and Malaysian
horror films indicates that both models of horror contain markedly similar
depictions of the supernatural. As such, they begin to suggest a possible
framework for the constitution of a Southeast Asian model of horror, one
that is based largely upon structure and genre.
Certainly, the mise-en-scene and subject matter of successful Thai and
Malaysian horror films contain many signifiers of Southeast Asian daily
life, with tropical foliage, beaches, wet markets, motorbikes, street ven-
dors, and characters wearing loose-fitting clothing and sandals, even when
such productions are decidedly urban-based. Thai and Malaysian horror
films also contain depictions of the supernatural which are in keeping with
belief systems in both countries. These depictions may be representative
of the wider cultural position and development of the supernatural in the
TOWARDS ASOUTHEAST ASIAN MODEL OFHORROR: THAI HORROR CINEMA... 189
region. Beliefs in various animistic spirits and their supernatural powers are
common across Southeast Asia, and there are a number of shared charac-
teristics across Malaysia and Thailand in terms of both the spirits and their
social effects. In each nation, local spirits which are familiar and recog-
nisable across the country are depicted in films. In Malaysia, numerous
horror films depict the well-known Hantu and Pontianak Malay spirits
while Thai films such as Nang Nak, Krasue Valentine/Ghost of Valentine
(Yuthlert Sippapak, 2006) and Baan Phii Pop 2008 (Bunharn Taitanabul,
2008) depict spirits that are familiar and recognisable across Thailand.
Such spirits notably exist alongside dominant Islamic and Buddhist beliefs
in each country, with religious figures and places of worship featuring sig-
nificantly as characters try to rid themselves of these spirits. Thai films
such as Shutter and Nang Nak will use Buddhist monks and their chants
to pacify spirits, Malaysian films such as Jangan Pandang Belakang and
Hantu Bonceng use Islamic holy men for exorcisms and have protagonists
chant verses from the Quran for protection.
Yet rather than seeking similarity through depictions of spirits, which
have changed radically over the decades and often have very different social
functions in films, the most concrete example of cultural proximity seems
evident in the growth of the popular subgenre horror-comedy in both
countries. In Malaysia, films such as Hantu Bonceng, Ngangkung, Hantu
Kak Limah Balik Rumah and its sequel Hantu Kak Limah2: Husin, Mon
dan Jn Pakai Toncit (Mamat Khalid, 2012) include many instances of phys-
ical slapstick comedy, often mixing these with graphic horror. Filmmaker
Shuhaimi Baba argues this subgenre makes Malaysian horror somewhat
distinctive: Our local horror films are mainly comedy horrors anyway
Real horror films dont do well at the Malaysian box office.5 While it may
have derogatory connotations, this distinction between Malaysian horror
and what Baba calls real horror suggests that filmmakers recognise this
as a significant characteristic of Malaysian filmmaking.
Within this subgenre, the emphasis on humor over horror is clearly
evident. In a representative example Hantu Kak Limah2: Husin, Mon dan
Jn Pakai Toncit (the sequel to Hantu Kak Limah Balik Rumah), horrific
depictions such as the supernatural figures hanging ominously over the
jungle are largely eclipsed by the comedic effects of the bumbling villag-
ers of Kampung Pisang and their banter at the local stall. Character types
such as the older headman, the government workers, the camp stereotype,
the Indian moneylender, the militant gun-toting Keffiyeh-wearing pro-
Palestinian youth, and the overweight friend abound, while the returning
190 M.J. AINSLIE
nations, Thailand and Malaysia are divided by borders which are still rel-
atively recent. Both countries themselves are made up of diverse ethnic
groups, all of which possess their own distinct languages, cultures, and reli-
gions which have changed and blended over time. In its early development,
filmmaking across the region was faced with the problem of overcoming
internal differences and bridging cultural barriers in order to become finan-
cially viable, especially in an unfunded and economically unstable indus-
try. Visual entertainment adapted to cater for the many diverse consumers
within these nations. Films from the region can therefore often be distin-
guished by characteristics such as the existence of a blended narrative
which incorporates elements from many different genres within a single
text and an increased emphasis upon spectacle as a source of stimulation.
Characteristics associated with the horror genre are typically mixed with
elements from other similarly visceral genres such as slapstick comedy,
romance, and action. Such characteristics are able to bridge linguistic and
cultural barriers and overcome divisions that may otherwise problematize
wide appeal in diverse nations. They also function well in rowdy upcountry
communal viewing scenarios which do not engender the close relationship
between the viewer and text that is part of following a complex suspense-
based narrative.6 This blended narrative and its emphasis on spectacle is
particularly evident in horror-comedies which consistently meld graphic
horror and slapstick comedy. Indeed, a discernible Southeast Asian model
of horror which stretches across these two countries may have emerged
which helps explain the particular success of Thai horror in Malaysia.
Difference asAttraction
Along with a degree of cultural proximity, the success of Thai horror
may also be aided by its difference to local Malaysian horror films. Despite
the similar historical context and economic experience, the social depic-
tions and subject matter of high-grossing Malaysian horror films is very
different to that of popular Thai horror films. Close examination and com-
parison suggests that Thai horror may offer an alternative depiction of
Southeast Asia for viewers who are perhaps not adequately represented by
the depictions which dominate Malaysian horror.
In contrast to the pan-Asian depictions found in Thai horror, Malaysian
horror seems to be significantly less international in subject matter and
more localized in its depiction of a particular social group and situation.
These films do not construct the same internationalised and pan-Asian
192 M.J. AINSLIE
a suburban environment, and also make heavy reference to villages far away
from urban centres and suburban areas on the fringes of cities.
If, as Trauma Studies theorists suggest, horror functions to mediate and
engage with suppressed traumatic social events and upheaval, then Malaysian
horror would seem to be engaging primarily with the issues and contradic-
tions associated with contemporary village life and community. A common
theme in films is defeating threats to a community and maintaining the sta-
tus quo, thereby reaffirming this context and situation against the increas-
ing fragmentation that is associated with the urbanisation of Malaysia and,
in particular, the Malay community. The successful 2010 comedy-horror
Hantu kak limah balik rumah, set in the village Kampung Pisang, focuses
on its protagonist Husins attempts to find out what happened to his neigh-
bour on his return to his village after working in Singapore. While its later
sequel Hantu Kak Limah2: Husin, Mon dan Jn Pakai Toncit depicts Husin
again returning to Kampung Pisang after becoming bankrupt in Singapore.
Such a depiction contrasts with recent Thai horror films in which urban
and rural life are often separated, with action taking place purely within one
without much depiction of or reference to the other (unless this movement
is a specific part of the plot as in Shutter). That is to say, that the wounds
addressed in Thai cinema are almost exclusively associated with the pres-
sures of existing in urban middle class Thailand.
The setting of Malaysian horror films in rural areas is also evident in
critiques from Malaysian authorities who seem to interpret such depictions
as somehow low in quality due to their localized nature. Former Prime
Minister Mahathir Mohamad, who remains a highly influential figure, crit-
icised Malaysian horror films in 2011 when asked about a recent instance
of hysteria amongst a group of female students. Mahathir described the
depiction of ghosts and spirits in Malaysian films as counter-productive
to building a society predicated upon science, suggesting that there is
something backwards about films set in a rural context which engage
with traditional spirits and beliefs. Norman Yusoff relates Mahathirs con-
cerns to his modernisation policy, arguing that horror films do not adhere
to, and even potentially undermine, the nation-building values that
Mahathir wishes to see as dominant (Yusoff 2012). Yusoff interprets this
as the recognition of the potential of Malaysian horror films to critique
modernity. However, it is difficult to detect such a critique given the sub-
ject matter of the films themselves which lacks the overt engagement with
urban lifestyles and pressures typical of Thai films. Nonetheless, these films
certainly reinforce suburban and rural life in a nation which emphasises
194 M.J. AINSLIE
There are still some decent ones but most of them are just stupid horror
comedic/romantic types with cheesy scripts and poor quality directors.
Pontianak Harum SM had some great story despite mediocre scare factor,
Jangam Pandang Belakang kind of a big change in our horror industry with
its good use of sound effect and gloomy scenes, after that, its all rehashes
of the same thing [sic].8
TOWARDS ASOUTHEAST ASIAN MODEL OFHORROR: THAI HORROR CINEMA... 195
Malaysian film industry in their review of the historical fantasy Puen yai
jom salad/Queens of Langkasuka (Nonzee Nimibutr, 2008) (a story which
they claim is Malaysian rather than Southern Thai):
When I go to Hong-Kong Filmart and see Thai films, HK films and Korean
films, they all look alike. If you take the poster of a Thai film and change the
title into Korean, it could become a Korean film. Same with Japanese films,
they all look alike. Malaysia is worse. We havent even reached the point
where we have good mainstream cinema.11
Well for horror genre, i will go for Thai cause more surprise and plot twist,
Malaysia horror film tend to be more straightforward and predictable but as
Malaysian, i will ask you to support local horror film [sic].12
A later post in the thread then states Malaysia horror film lack those scary
and eerie atmosphere which we always see in Thai and Japan horror.
196 M.J. AINSLIE
Story wise, the movie is filled with funny takes on the administrations, the
people and the Malay culture itself. This is something that had rarely been
done since the era of P.Ramlees movies and it felt refreshing to see some-
thing like this appeared on movie screens once more [sic].13
The reviewer evidently likes the way these films emphasize Malay culture
and Kampung life. Indeed, it is easy to understand how such Malay-
centric suburban and rural depictions can be appealing, especially in an
increasingly globalised world in which pan-Asian products have become
ubiquitous. The director of the successful 2011 film, Hantu Bonceng, cites
the depiction of Malay life as a major source of appeal behind these films:
Horror films have struck a chord because they reflect the countrys village
culture and the traditional superstitions that trouble Malay hearts Horror
movies are the type that will be close to our culture.14
Censorship
Some of the differences between the Thai and Malay models of horror
may also be better understood by considering the unique state pressures
facing Malaysian films and horror films in particular. The wider social and
political context of Malaysian horror potentially curtails the genre and its
filmmakers in ways that would make it difficult for films to cultivate the
international pan-Asian image so successful in Thai and East Asian horror.
Subsequently, in engaging with subject matter and situations which could
be more problematic for local filmmakers, Thai horror may be able to
offer an alternative depiction for Malaysian viewers.
TOWARDS ASOUTHEAST ASIAN MODEL OFHORROR: THAI HORROR CINEMA... 197
The genre itself was curtailed in 1994 when the horror film Fantasi
(Aziz M. Osman, 1994) was initially banned before being altered sub-
stantially and eventually released. Interpreted as the result of the rise in
Islamic sentiments since the 1970s, this was the beginning of a climate
in which censors stopped approving scary movies15 and Malaysian hor-
ror films were effectively banned for celebrating the other-worldly in
violation of Islamic teachings.16 This ban was effectively lifted in 2004
with the success of Pontianak Harum Sundal Malam/Fragrant Night
Vampire (Shuhaimi Baba, 2004). This shift was in keeping with the more
relaxed attitude to popular culture at the end of Mahathirs rule. After the
election of Abdullah Badawi in 2003, space for liberal expression opened
up further. At that time, locally made horror re-emerged as a genre and
quickly became successful.
However, in recent years Malaysian horror has again been a target of
religious authorities, indicating the difficulties the genre and its filmmak-
ers face in the contemporary context. Following Mahathirs comments
about the counter-productive nature of horror films (which were widely
reported) UMNO called for the government to empower JAKIM (Jabatan
Kemajuan Islam Malaysia, the Department of Islamic Development
Malaysia) to ban both the production and importing of horror, mysti-
cal and superstitious films, claiming such films can weaken the faith of
Muslims in the country and do not carry any positive message, but
instead may destroy the faith.17
Such controversies place restrictions on Malaysian filmmakers that are
very different to those faced by the directors of Thai horror. Malaysian
directors are pressured to stick to conventional plots and cannot be too
innovative in the subjects they tackle. Notably, the Film Censorship Board
of Malaysia (LPF) must approve all movies, and horror films in particu-
lar must be seen to have Islam winning out in the end over the super-
natural.18 Viewers appear to be aware of these constraints and give an
indication of the self-censorship that Malaysian filmmakers will engage in
regarding supernatural subject matter. A blog post reviewing The Legend
of Langkasuka states: I have a feeling that if we ever produce something
like this, the censorship board wouldnt allow it to be released. For they
need to keep the illusion that melayu = Islam even if that means rejecting
our rich legend and folklore. With regards to horror, one commentator
states that pressure from the censorship board stunts a promising home-
grown genre that faces competition from imported Hollywood and other
foreign blockbusters, and shackles directors who need to think beyond
the conventional to expand their art.19
TOWARDS ASOUTHEAST ASIAN MODEL OFHORROR: THAI HORROR CINEMA... 199
Conclusion
It appears that due to the lack of a clear pan-Asian urban depiction and
a heavy focus on the society of a particular ethnic group, Malaysian hor-
ror does not enjoy the same level of internationalisation as Thai horror.
It is the pan-Asian urban depictions common to internationally success-
ful Korean, Japanese, and now Thai horror films which enable them to
travel across boundaries which are not usually breached by other cultural
products. What is more, internal pressures and sensitivities also impact
upon filmmakers willingness to innovate and explore the horror genre,
leading to a degree of frustration and criticism within the country. The
urban focus of Thai film as well as its high quality look and feel are
definite elements in its appeal and relevance to Malaysian viewers. With
its carefully cultivated East Asian aesthetics and depictions of the pres-
sures of urban living, Thai film appears to fill a niche for contemporary
consumers who may not feel adequately represented by or able to engage
with Malaysian films.
Moreover, close examination indicates that there are many similarities
between the cultural products of these two nations. In particular, the fre-
quency of comedy-horror films across Southeast Asia invites further analy-
sis as a possible version of horror particularly appropriate to the region.
This sets these films apart from the more internationally dominant East
Asian model and suggests that the horror genre could represent a very spe-
cific form of cultural proximity in the products of Malaysia and Thailand.
As Thai horror appears to be the dominant representation of Thai
popular culture in Malaysia, its reception deserves more in-depth exami-
nation as an example of cultural exchange which has significant potential
to shape relations between the countries. Direct interviews and recep-
tion studies could enrich our understanding of the relationship between
200 M.J. AINSLIE
Notes
1. This is the difficult situation of the southern Thai provinces which border
Malaysia. In contrast to the majority of Thailand, provinces such as Yala,
Pattani and Narathiwat are ethnically Malay and Muslim, putting them in
a difficult position next to the dominant state-defined Buddhist-led dis-
courses of Thainess. There is a small separatist movement which wishes to
break away from Thailand and many acts of violence have been committed
in response to an, at times, quite violent process of suppression of internal
cultural difference. While this situation is complex, scholars understand
economic disadvantage and social grievances at perceived discrimination
and human rights abuses to be major motivators of such a movement (see
Srisompoba and Panyasak 2006). Notably, while references to Malaysia
from within Thailand (from both popular and academic sources) focus
overwhelmingly upon this situation and often blame Malaysia for instigat-
ing or supporting potential secession, there is little reference to or interest
in what is considered an internal Thai problem from within Malaysia itself
other than warning potential tourists when violence flares up.
2. This impact can be a very direct one: the popular Thai films Kuan Meun
Ho/Hello Stranger (Banjong Pisanthanakun, 2010) and Love Sud Jin Fin
Sugoi (Thanwarin Sukhaphisit, 2014) both depict protagonists who are
obsessed with East Asian pop culture, even travelling to South Korea and
Japan respectively to indulge their fantasies. This indicates that Southeast
Asian industries and viewers are not passive receivers but are actively
responding to and incorporating such signifiers into their own
environment.
3. http://www.freemalaysiatoday.com/category/nation/2012/03/21/
horror-films-rise-from-the-dead-in-malaysia/
4. http://malaysiacinema.blogspot.com/
5. https://sg.news.yahoo.com/malaysian-horror-controversy-094400054.
html
6. While Thai cinema may seem to have left such a context far behind in its
urban audience and multiplexes, this informal viewing context still contin-
ues. This is evidenced by the amount of talking, eating, and walking around
that still takes placed in an urban Thai cinema.
TOWARDS ASOUTHEAST ASIAN MODEL OFHORROR: THAI HORROR CINEMA... 201
7. http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1787073/reviews?ref_=tt_urv
8. https://forum.lowyat.net/index.php?showtopic=2927734&hl=thai+horror
9. http://sayaanakwayang.blogspot.com/2008/12/thai-produced-malay-
movie.html
10. James Lee is a prolific and highly-awarded Malaysian filmmaker who has
been involved in both avant-garde art productions and more general mass-
released films. He has directed Malaysian horror films Histeria (2008),
Claypot Curry Killers (2013) and Tolong, Awek Aku Pontianak (2011).
11. h t t p : / / f i l m . c u l t u r e 3 6 0 . a s e f . o r g / m a g a z i n e / i n t e r v i e w s /
discussion-with-james-lee-on-the-dv-film-making-in-malaysia/
12. https://forum.lowyat.net/index.php?showtopic=3276427&hl=thai+horror
13. http://www.ariefzainal.com/2011/02/hantu-kak-limah-balik-
rumah-a-review/
14. http://beta.themalaysianinsider.com/showbiz/article/in-malaysia-
horror-films-rise-from-the-dead
15. http://www.freemalaysiatoday.com/category/nation/2012/03/21/
horror-films-rise-from-the-dead-in-malaysia/
16. h t t p : / / w w w. t h e m a l a y s i a n i n s i d e r. c o m / s h o w b i z / a r t i c l e /
in-malaysia-horror-films-rise-from-the-dead
17. http://www.thestar.com.my/story/?file=%2f2009%2f10%2f14%2fnation
%2f20091014174021
18. h t t p : / / w w w. t h e m a l a y s i a n i n s i d e r. c o m / s h o w b i z / a r t i c l e /
in-malaysia-horror-films-rise-from-the-dead
19. http://www.freemalaysiatoday.com/category/nation/2012/03/21/
horror-films-rise-from-the-dead-in-malaysia/
20. https://ph.news.yahoo.com/malaysian-horror-controversy-094400054.html
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TOWARDS ASOUTHEAST ASIAN MODEL OFHORROR: THAI HORROR CINEMA... 203
RaphaelRaphael
R. Raphael (*)
University of Hawaii at Manoa, Honolulu, HI, USA
Kong, 1998), there has generally been hesitancy to recognize the kind of
identification Kong has invited for marginalized spectators. I focus here
on a reading of King Kong 1976, then considering its move to Hong
Kong via the Shaw Brothers Mighty Peking Man released the next year. I
illustrate how the chronotope is animated in these different cultural set-
tings, especially interested in the use of Kong as signifier of resistance.
The monster Kongs body, a body that has invited such charged identi-
fication, might be seen as an uber-text of the grotesque body. For Bakhtin,
the grotesque body is a body that brings attention to all that the classical
body would concealits bulges and orifices. While the classical body is a
static fixed proportionate body, the grotesque is one that is in constant
change, a body that oozes beyond borders and fixed categories and is
marked by inversions. That which is small is made large; that which is hid-
den is made seen; that which is low is made king. It is also a body marked
by profound ambivalence, simultaneously inspiring intense longing and
attraction, and equally powerful feelings of revulsion and disgust. Bakhtin
attributes tremendous political significance to such images, and their radi-
cal multi-valence. With its bodily inversions, he sees the grotesque body
as always political, offering a kind of visual map of dissent or resistance, a
kind of embodied threat to dominant power, particularly for populations
that lack a vocabulary for political resistance. Seen as such, Kong has cir-
culated widely as just such an utterance.
official power.9 Indeed, the Kong trope was also used as a sign of resistance
in black militant theater.10 In another example Trinidadian singer Mighty
Sparrows popular 1970s hit, the protest anthem King Kong makes this
identification with the power of Kongs body clear: I am a gorilla on the
rampage. [...] Big and black and strong [] taking over the town like
King Kong.11 In complete contrast to this, as previously noted, the same
films radical ambivalence has allowed it to resonate with viewers holding
the most radically different views. This tension between containment and
resistance, together with the films historical associations with social and
economic crisis forever inscribed by its initial release, further adds to the
instability of Kongs body. This instability, as we will consider, has created
pressure to contain it.
King Kong (1976)s problems began well before its release. American
film critics took immediate offense to the films brash Italian producer, the
flamboyant Dino De Laurentiis. Many reviews made the unusual choice
of phonetically transcribing De Laurentiis PT Barnum-like claims about
the film in De Laurentiis broken English. Doing so helped make his early
brash but essentially pragmatic assessment of the market appeals of the
upcoming film sound ridiculous:
Intellectuals gonna love Konk [sic]; even film buffs who love the first Konk
gonna love ours. Why? Because I give them no crap. I no spend two, three
million to do quick business. I spend 24 million on my Konk. I give them
quality. I got here a great love story, a great adventure. And she rated
PG.For everybody. (De Laurentiis, quoted in Time, October 25, 1976)
This clearly made him look like a buffoona cocky, foreign showman toy-
ing with a sacred icon. These reviews helped cast early suspicions about the
films legitimacy. A central thing that irked critics was the films choice to
use Kaiju style special effects for the films central monster. Kaiju is basi-
cally suit-mation, man in a monster suit technology originally developed
in Japan for Godzilla (1954). This tradition of special technology is closely
wedded with Kong historically. The best known Kaiju monster Godzilla is,
by its creative teams own admission, a deliberate attempt to fashion the nar-
rative and aesthetic framework of King Kong (1933) to the needs of their
own national context. In many ways Godzilla was a refracted response to the
still fresh horrors of nuclear war at the hands of the US.So this historical
memory of trauma might be said to be present in use of the Kaiju tradition.13
Regardless of this, for critics of the 1976 film cycle, huckster Italian
showman De Laurentiis remake and its use of this foreign tradition
only helped cast further suspicion on the films legitimacy. The reviews
began to cement the popular perception that this was a Bad Kong.
These concerns with the films authenticity allowed criticism to com-
pletely disavow King Kong (1976)s strident critique of American military
policy, which is perhaps the most explicit of any mainstream blockbuster in
global American film history. While the original King Kong (1933) always
invited a certain unstable identification with Kong, in the New Hollywood
remake this invitation appears to become much more pronounced. While
in some sense, a general suspicion of authority is characteristic of much of
the output of post-Watergate New Hollywood (see Cook, 2000, etal.), it
appears something else is going on here.
212 R. RAPHAEL
Fig. 10.1 The monster in the South Korean-American bad kong A*P*E
(1976) confronts the military
Notes
1. As Cynthia Erb explores in her Tracking King Kong (1998). Also, although
not the focus of this chapter, the film has also been an important site in
which scholars have examined horrors charged relationship with gender
(see especially Williams, 1991, 1999, Modleski, 1998a, 1998b and Clover
2002).
2. As recently as April 2008, an image of star athlete LeBron James clutching
fashion model on the cover of Vogue elicited national protests that it was a
racist evocation of the Kong trope (See Zaleski LeBron James Vogue).
3. As many as a third of all King Kong remakes and unofficial knock offs
are from Japan and East Asia. Licensed transnational uses include Toho
Studios King Kong Versus Godzilla (1962) and King Kong Escapes (1967).
Unofficial remakes include the transnational productions A*P*E (Korean/
American, 1976) and Shaw Brothers Mighty Peking Man (1977). Gojira
(1954) released in the U.S. in 1956 as Godzilla, King of the Monsters is,
according to both the films director Ishir Honda and writer Shigeru
Kayama, their version of King Kong (1933). Lost unofficial Japanese
remakes include King Kong Appears in Edo (Edo ni Arawareta Kingu
Kongu) (1933) and a lost silent by Torajiro Saito.
4. In Germany, the films title, King Kong und die weisse Frau (King Kong
and the White Woman), made the racial tension explicit (Snead, 21).
218 R. RAPHAEL
5. The film was alternatively known as Goliathan and Colossus of the Congo.
6. See Rem Koolhaass Delirious New York: A Retroactive Manifesto for
Manhattan (1997) for a look at the utopian project of Manhattanist
architecture; particularly relevant to King Kong is how the Empire State
Building (less than two year old in 1933) would have itself been seen as a
particularly ambivalent symbol as it had just violently replaced one of the
citys central icons of wealth and powerthe stately Waldorf-Astoria.
7. For accounts that complicate this narrative, see Erb, etal. For one, the film
Little Women later that year was a far bigger hit (Erb 51).
8. Speaking as early as the 1950s, Derek Hill (1958-9) notes the correlation
between the horror genre and economic crisis (or war). Every horror
cyclehas coincided with economic depression or war (Wood 75).
9. See X.J. Kennedys 1960 essay Who Killed King Kong.
10. See Martin Gottfields Opening Nights: Theatre Criticism of the Sixties
(1969), p.232.
11. Other examples include late 1950s South African musical King Kong, the
story of the struggles of a successful black boxer that gained international
prominence as an early expression of the horrors of apartheid (Erb 191).
12. In this light, Peter Jacksons King Kong (2005) is the uber-good Kong.
13. The tradition is even more closely tied with transnational movement of
King Kong: the central special effects technician (Fuminori Ohashi) who
develops the Kaiju technology made internationally famous in Godzilla
originated the technique in what was almost certainly the first King Kong
interpretation to come out of Asia, King Kong Appears in Edo (Edo ni
Arawareta Kingu Kongu). It is one of the great lost films, presumably lost
to neglect or destroyed in the American bombing of the Japans popula-
tions in the war (Brin, 213). Also, according to October 21, 1933 issue of
Japanese cinema journal Kinema Junpo, a lost silent film by Torajiro Saito
would pre-date this.
14. The film generally considered as the first to use Kaiju is the King Kong
inspired Gojira (1954), slightly re-edited for American audiences and
released as Godzilla, King of Monsters (1956) with its original explicit anti-
military subtext dampened. For discussion of the films dialog with the
chronotope of King Kong, see Monstrous Returns in the Postwar
Context: Mighty Joe Young and Godzilla in Erbs Tracking King Kong:
A Hollywood Icon in World Culture (121154).
15. See Eberts 1999 review of Mighty Peking Man and his unattributed com-
ments on the box of Rolling Thunder release DVD.
16. According to the IMDB listing for Goliathon (1977) Xing xing wang
(original Title).
17. IMDB listing for Goliathon (1977) Xing xing wang.
18. The Jardine House, at the time the tallest in Hong Kong.
PLANET KONG: TRANSNATIONAL FLOWS OFKING KONG (1933)... 219
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Texas P, 1990.
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Brin, David. King Kong is Back!: An Unauthorized Look at One Humongous Ape.
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Routledge, 2009.
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Film. Feminist Film Theory: A Reader. Ed. Sue Thornham. NewYork: NY UP,
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220 R. RAPHAEL
Snead, James. White Screens, Black Images: Hollywood from the Dark Side.
NewYork: Routledge, 1994.
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Wilson, John, and Peter Travers. The Official Razzie Movie Guide: Enjoying the
Best of Hollywoods Worst. NewYork: Warner, 2005.
Zaleski, Katharine. LeBron James Vogue Cover Criticized For Perpetuating
Racial Stereotypes The Huffington Post. TheHuffingtonPost.com, 2 Apr.
2008. Web. 31 Jan. 2016.
Filmography
A*P*E. Dir. Paul Leder. Kuk Dong, 1976.
Frankenstein Conquers the World (Frankenstein Tai Chitei Kaiju Baragon). Dir.
Ishiro Honda. Toho Studios, 1965.
Godzilla, King of the Monsters. Dir. Ishir Honda. Toho, 1956.
Gojira. Dir. Ishir Honda. Toho, 1954.
King Kong. Dirs. Merian Cooper, Ernest Schoedsack. Perf. Faye Wray, Robert
Armstrong. RKO Radio Pictures, 1933.
King Kong. Dir. John Guillermin. Perf. Jessica Lange, Jeff Bridges, Charles
Grodin. Paramount Pictures, 1976.
King Kong. Dir. Peter Jackson. Perf. Naomi Watts, Adrien Brody, Jack Black.
Universal Pictures, 2005.
King Kong vs Godzilla (Kingu Kongu Tai Gojira). Dir. Ishiro Honda. Toho
Studios, 1963.
Mighty Peking Man. Dir. Ho Meng-hua. Shaw Brothers, 1977.
CHAPTER 11
SophiaSiddique
Introduction
In their essay The Fusion of Film Studies and Disability Studies,
Hoeksema and Smit argue for the rich contributions that Film Studies
can offer to Disability Studies. While the analytical framework of repre-
sentation certainly provides a provocative pathway in grappling with the
interconnections between Disability Studies and Film Studies, the authors
contend that an emphasis on the aesthetic contributions of Film Studies
would open Disability Studies to an entire corpus of critical understand-
ing (35). A recuperation and focus on aesthetics brings the importance
of form back into this intersectional fold. Such aesthetic contributions
rooted in Film Studies would include an engagement with the films mise-
en-scne, its editing and sound designs, and lighting and cinematography.
Hoeksema and Smit argue that such aesthetic strategies and devices are
integral to the manner in which a film presents disability (35).
Angela Marie Smith takes up this aesthetic charge with respect to the
representation of blindness in her essay Impaired Visions: The Cultural
and Cinematic Politics of Blindness in the Horror Film. She hones in
on the ways in which the camera, for example, can dis-able vision
and therefore render a similar process of perceptual realignment and
S. Siddique (*)
Department of Film, Vassar College, Poughkeepsie, NY, USA
The films body that Sobchack posits is a lived-body (but not a human one)
capable of the perception of expression and the expression of perception:
the film certainly perceives, experiences, is immersed in, and has a vantage
point on the world, and without a doubt the film signifies, or otherwise
there would be nothing at all for us to see, hear, feel, or interpret. (9)
This stance provides a fertile entry into navigating difference and alterity in
the horror film. In Barkers reorientation, a phenomenological film analysis
would recognize film and the viewer as acting together, correlationally,
along an axis that would itself constitute the object of study (18). She
offers a tactile mode of engagement that moves from textual analysis to
textural analyses, handlings of film rather than readings of film (25).
In this more tactile form of analysis, Barker persuasively argues:
careful attention to the tactile surfaces and textures involved in the film
experience might illuminate complexities and significance that might be
overlooked by a focus on visual, aural, or narrative aspects. Even those
films that seem dominated by narrative and cognitive concerns might pos-
sess secrets that we miss at first glance, secrets we may only discover when
we begin to scratch the surface with a more tactile form of analysis. My
approach considers texture as something we and the film engage in mutu-
ally, rather than something presented by the films to their passive and anony-
mous viewers; in other words, I try to avoid reducing films to texts and
viewers to passive receivers of them. (25)
300 million people drawn from Korea, Japan, Taiwan, Thailand, and
Singapore (applausepictures.com). Raintree Pictures was established as
the film production arm of the Media Corporation Singapore in 1998.
Raintree Pictures produces films for Singapore audiences and for the
regional and international markets. As both Hong Kong (East Asia) and
Singapore (Southeast Asia) have Chinese majority populations, it does not
seem surprising that a major market for these pan-Asian co-productions is
the transnational Chinese audience in East and Southeast Asia. In the con-
text of The Eyes co-production, this transnational branding of pan-Asian
films includes the ethnic Chinese minority in Thailand (Southeast Asia).
In keeping with this pan-Asian and transnational Chinese sensibility, a
majority of the crew and cast of The Eye are ethnic Chinese from Hong
Kong, Thailand, Singapore, and Malaysia who speak a variety of languages
and dialects including Cantonese, Mandarin, Thai, and English. For exam-
ple, Danny and Oxide Pang, twin brothers and the co-directors of this film
were born in Hong Kong but work both in Hong Kong and Thailand.
These co-directors of The Eye provide the spectator with an invitation to
cohabit the sense perceptions, tactile epistemologies, proprioception, and
kinesthetic awareness of two sensible and sensing subjects: Mun, the films
blind protagonist and the camera eye of The Eye. This is most evident in
the films opening and title credit sequence.
In the opening sequence, the images in soft focus especially challenge
cinemas scopic regime and call for a tactile embrace instead. Human
forms exist as abstract contours, without discernible faces until the cam-
eras lens briefly comes into focus to reveal Mun, the films central pro-
tagonist. While the spectator is not sutured into Muns optical point of
view, the shots that are in soft focus or that weave in and out of focus
force the spectator into alternate postures of perceptual attunement.
The visceral and textural effects of these ocular and tactile gestures is
one that almost simulates pupil dilation. Shots then continue in a dialec-
tic dance between focus and blurring, the abstract and the representa-
tional. This dialectic dance suggests that the camera eye itself is blinking
and attempting to orient itself to its surroundings, and thereby moving
to orient the spectator as well. For example, the camera navigates the
built environment of this diegetic space muscularly and kinesthetically
through whip pans, tilts, and the occasional gestures of the hand-held
camera. Other images pervade the screen, often including the use of the
close-up, where special emphasis is given to objects with complex tex-
tures, grains, and gradations of color. In some shots, minute movements
226 S. SIDDIQUE
becomes a pathway to trace the shifting identities and social realities of ethnic
Chinese in Southeast Asia, specifically Thailand as well as the production of a
transnational Chinese sensibility. For the remainder of this chapter, I deploy
a tactile and textural logic to touch upon two forces that contour these alle-
gorical resonances. These resonances find their expressions in a phantasmic
geography and within the grotesque body of Mun and her spectral counter-
part, Ling, as well as the grotesque body of the film-spectator.
Phantasmic Geography
The phantasmic geography of The Eye maps the entangled relationship
between urban Hong Kong and rural Thailand through a vernacular tap-
estry of Cantonese, English, Thai, and Mandarin, and within the domes-
tic sphere of Muns bedroom. The vernacular tapestry emerges with the
search for Muns donor in Thailand. Mun and Wah discover that the
donor was a woman from rural Thailand. They only know her by her
ethnic Chinese name: Chiu Wai Ling. Mun and Wah manage to find the
hospital where Ling was admitted after her suicide. Wah eventually con-
verses in halting English with two Thai nurses who then introduce him
to Dr. Eak (played by an ethnic majority Chinese from Singapore). Dr.
Eak and Wah introduce themselves in English. Wah then explains why
they are at the hospital. Dr. Eak code switches to Mandarin and enquires
if they are from Hong Kong. Incredulous, Wah responds, You speak
Mandarin? The vernacular tapestry weaves Cantonese (the dialect that
Mun and Wah speak in Hong Kong), English (the language that serves as
the initial medium of communication), Thai (the familial language spoken
between mother and daughter), and Mandarin (the language that Wah,
Dr. Eak, and Lings mother speak). This phantasmic geography reorients
space and place by transcending national boundaries through the powerful
transnational, global language of Mandarin.
The materiality of Muns built environment (the dresser, objects on
the dresser, walls) soon becomes ephemeral and transient. It undulates
and morphs into Lings bedroom in Thailand then shifts back into Muns
bedroom in Hong Kong. Mun tries to grasp a framed photograph on
her dresser but it dissolves in her hands. Both bedrooms threaten to col-
lapse into a singularity. Muns spectral vision, enabled by Lings corneas,
sutures two seemingly incommensurate places (urban Hong Kong and
rural Thailand) into a transnational phantasmic geography of disloca-
tion and terror.
228 S. SIDDIQUE
The sequence first begins with a series of shots that brush against each
other in rapid fire cuts. The images themselves oscillate between soft focus
and in-focus. A sepia-tone permeates the grain of each image. The specta-
tor cannot discern if these disturbing images are a flashback or a memory.
Similarly, there is no clear sense whether these ephemeral fragments belong
to Mun or to Ling. The composition of these images are similarly disturbing
and disorienting. Some shots are composed with a straight-on angle, while
others take on a canted angle. The soft focus creates an eerie and uncanny
glow and atmosphere. The spectator can barely glean the surroundings.
It suggests a hospital but the exact location cannot be determined. The
sequence continues with a number of shots intercut: a wheelchair, a hospi-
tal bed or gurney on wheels, an IV bag, and a patient shrouded in bloody
bandages. The shots are framed in a series of close-ups, ranging in degree
and intensity from an extreme close-up to a mid-close-up. This confusing
sequence challenges the proprioception, kinesthetic awareness, and percep-
tual orientation of Mun, the spectator, and the camera.
In my textural handling of the films spectral vision, sound is as impor-
tant a sense modality as vision and touch. In this sequence, the spectator
is sonically and acoustically accosted by intense and jarring rattling. The
source of these cacophonous sounds is revealed to be the wheels of a
hospital gurney moving across a tiled floor. While the source is identified,
the unpleasant sensations of these harsh and discordant sounds remain.
The sound mix privileges these sounds above others, thereby transforming
the soundscape from one of a source of fidelity to an unsettling embrace
of sounds acoustic propertiesits pitch, timbre, and intensity. Philippa
Lovatt speaks to the connection between film phenomenology and sound
when she writes:
The feelings that emanate from the texture and materiality of wheels scrap-
ing against the tiled hospital floors are many. For the spectator and Mun,
such feelings include unease, apprehension, dread, and fear. This sequence
is powerful precisely because of its construction of haptic soundscapes
(Lovatt 75), which exist alongside the tactile, the textural, and visual. The
final cut takes the spectator to Muns bedroom where she is encased in a
cool blue color scheme.
EMBODYING SPECTRAL VISION INTHE EYE 229
The camera muscularly tracks close to her and in a single reverse shot,
the spectator assumes Muns optical and tactile point of view. The shot
is of Muns bedroom, dissolving into yet another unknown space. It is
unclear whose bedroom bleeds through and into Muns domestic space.
A medium close-up of Muns bedroom dresser and table contains Muns
personal objects which include a tissue box and a brush. Both objects are
tactile in function and form, meant to be held, touched, and grasped. Like
the walls that dissolve between Muns bedroom and the unknown bed-
room, objects on the dresser pour through from the other domestic space.
A picture frame appears, then disappears. As Mun walks across the floor of
the bedroom towards the dresser, she is drawn to a shadow of an object
cast on the floor. Objects (like picture frames) re- and dematerialize in the
background. She attempts to grasp the evanescent picture frame, returning
to a "tactile epistemology" (Marks 2000: 138) or embodied knowledge
but without success. This picture frame eludes her grasp. The bedroom
transforms yet again into an entirely different space, then dissolves back
into Muns bedroom. These spectral dissolves not only express the tactile
and scopic dimensions of Muns spectral vision but also suggest the tactile
properties of cinema. As Barker notes, dissolvesare a kind of cinematic
caress (60). While the bedroom evokes this cinematic caress, the editing
strategy in the perceived oneiric sequence contains cuts. Here, the tactile
effect is one of wounding, penetration, and slashing. While this textural
handling reveals the films phantasmic geography, my textural handling of
the diegetic characters Mun and Ling, and the phenomenological relation-
ship between film and spectator, suggests the presence of grotesque bodies.
In her analysis of The Eye, Arnika Fuhrmann astutely notes that the rela-
tionship between Mun and Ling offers insights into the transformation of
Chinese femininity from denigrated minority identity to pan-Asian, cosmo-
politan ideal in Thailand (93). While she positions the corneal transplant
as a motif to interrogate prosthetic memory (Alison Landsberg as cited
inFuhrmann 94), I situate the corneal transplant within Bakhtins conceptual
framework of the grotesque body. For Bakhtin, orifices such as the mouth
and nose are the most privileged for the grotesque body. Bakhtin argues:
the grotesque body is not separated from the rest of the world. It is not
a closed, completed unit; it is unfinished, outgrows itself, transgresses its
230 S. SIDDIQUE
own limits. The stress is laid on those parts of the body that are open to the
outside world, that is, the parts through which the world enters the body
or emerges from it, or through which the body itself goes out to meet the
world. This means that the emphasis is on the apertures or the convexi-
ties, or on various ramifications and offshoots: the open mouth, the genital
organs, the breasts, the phallus, the potbelly, the nose. (26)
Rather than the mouth, nose, or the orifices outlined by Bakhtin above,
the eye is the organ and orifice that becomes constitutive of the grotesque
body in The Eye. I argue that Mun and Ling, through the corneal trans-
plant, become a grotesque body. The corneal transplant is a removal of
one set of tissues and the grafting upon of another. The eye in this instance
is not an impenetrable surface (Bakhtin 318) nor does this sense organ
express an individualself-sufficient human life (Bakhtin 316). There
are two bodies (a physical and a spectral), two forms of perceptual aware-
nesses, and two subjectivities contained within the seemingly singular
corporeal entity known as Mun. In this case, Bakthins grotesque body
or two bodies in one (26) is exemplified here by Mun-Ling. The gro-
tesque body does not exist hermetically sealed, separated from the world.
As noted in the quote above, the world enters the grotesque body and
the grotesque body opens to meet the world. This act of reversibility and
intersubjectivity is what imbues the grotesque body with a phenomeno-
logical resonance. Scholar Sara Shabot outlines this critical connection
between Bakhtins grotesque body and phenomenology:
This makes the grotesque body (with its scopic, tactile, and phenomenolog-
ical dimensions) particularly suited for an allegorical embrace. In the case of
The Eye, this embrace finds its palpable expression within the personal and
EMBODYING SPECTRAL VISION INTHE EYE 231
collective traumas of its central characters, Mun and Ling. The Eye situates
these personal and collective forms of trauma in specific places. Personal
traumas experienced by Mun and Ling are located in Hong Kong and rural
Thailand respectively while collective forms of trauma are only transposed
to rural Thailand. It is Mun (alone) who struggles with the pain of the
operation and the disorientation of learning to function in her normatively
sighted, world. She must initially rely on mnemonic and indexical devices
such as home movies to recapture childhood memories and images of her-
self as a child; images that she could never see. When Mun finally is able
to see her reflection in the mirror, she is both nervous and excited. The
camera only shows us her reaction and does not reveal the reflected image.
Neither the audience nor Mun realizes anything is amiss until Muns
companion, Wah shows Mun a photograph that was taken of her and
Ying Ying, a young patient with whom Mun shared a hospital room. Mun
glances at the photograph, looks at Ying Ying, and intently gazes at the
woman next to Ying Ying. Mun does not recognize her and is soon aghast
to learn that she is the woman next to Ying Ying. The scene ends just
as Mun looks up at her reflection on the subway window. When Mun
tearfully and anxiously stares in the mirror in her bedroom, the audience
sees a woman whom Mun presumed was herself. It is a horrific act of
misrecognition and Mun shatters the (Lacanian) mirror in a fit of hysteria.
Each shard reflects the weeping phantom from multiple angles and the
next shot frames the back of Muns head as she stares at this splintered
psyche. Mun experiences the profound trauma of identity loss within the
textured embrace of her spectral vision. Here, Mun is from the ethnic
Chinese majority in Hong Kong (although portrayed by actress Angelica
Lee, an ethnic Chinese minority of Malaysian descent) who discovers
that the image she identified as herself is that of Ling, an ethnic Chinese
minority female ghost from rural Thailand (according to the 2000 census
Chinese-Thais number 14% of the population).
Lings personal trauma is both social and spiritual. In a doubling of
vision, Ling reaches out to Mun by showing Mun searing images of her
childhood. This spectral plea for validation begins when Mun, standing in
Lings bedroom asks Well I am here now. What do you want to tell me?
As a child, Ling is teased mercilessly and cruelly taunted by the Thai inhab-
itants of her village. Her torment relentlessly continues into adulthood. In
this tactile and haptic space of fractured and spectral vision, Lings ethnic
Chinese minority identity is displaced onto her psychic abilities. Despite
attempts by her Thai neighbors to ostracize her, Ling continues to warn
232 S. SIDDIQUE
These events to the present day, threaten social disaffection and disrup-
tionthey both remain bitter sites of contestationof attempts to clearly
determine facts, assign guilt, and dole out punishment -as well as of bat-
tles over the representation of the past in classroom textbooks and popular
media alike. (154)
Conclusion
After shards from the horrific explosion damage her eyes, Muns corneas
are removed and she resumes her life as a blind woman in urban Hong
Kong. In a closing voice-over, Mun says, I hold no resentment towards
her. Since I saw and experienced the same pain that she did. But aside from
pain, I saw beauty. Muns final words echo the ambivalent and complex
phenomenological encounters, haunted entanglements, and intersensorial
embraces that occur between Mun (fully corporeal as an ethnic Chinese
majority) and Ling (a ghostly ethnic Chinese minority from Thailand). In
this preliminary inquiry, I have tried to suggest an allegorical reading of
this spectral vision that operates within a phantasmic geography (Hong
Kong and Thailand) and the grotesque bodies of Mun and Ling as well
as film and spectator to evoke the shifting and entangled identity politics
of overseas ethnic Chinese (both within and across national boundaries).
234 S. SIDDIQUE
References
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Chaiworaporn, Anchalee. Thai Cinema Since 1970. Film in South East Asia:
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Church, Peter. A Short History of South-East Asia. Singapore: John Wiley & Sons,
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Fuhrmann, Arnika (2008). Ghostly Desires: Sexual Subjectivity in Thai Cinema and
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Hoeksema, Thomas B., and Christopher R.Smit. The Fusion of Film Studies and
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www.applausepicures.com
Index1
W
Weinbaum, Batya, 136, 137 Z
Wells, Paul, 45 Zatoichi, 72
Western medicine Zhang Che. See Chang Cheh
and intellectual difference, 1626 Zhang Zhen, 72
Whats Eating Gilbert Grape (1993), Zimmer, Catherine, 35, 36
167 zombies, 5
women warriors, 13840 Zombi kampung Pisang/Zombies from
Wong Kar Mun, 22233 Banana Village (2008), 187