Some may argue that American horror is finally moving away from frontier anxiety because of the introduction of technology into horror movies. While some technology in American horror does represent uniquely American fears, like the Stephen King classic Christine (I mean, which other country has such a love-hate relationship with cars?), it is worth pointing out that many of the horror films involving technology were originally Japanese. The Japanese, despite their extreme technophilia, clearly have some deep fears about the effects of technology on traditional Japanese culture.
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Americans will continue to fight the monster, especially when the monster is nature, even when they know they may die. I think we return to the frontier again and again in various iterations (space, the ocean, the woods, etc.) in an attempt to assert our dominance over nature and the world. Americans are familiar with the tropes and archetypes of the horror genre, as evidenced by such movies as Cabin in the Woods and the Scream franchise. Although we well know what rules to follow, we insist on breaking them and fighting to survive. We ignore the warnings of the Harbinger (I feel like Mrs. Derrick serves this purpose in The Octopus) and venture into the wilderness (or into battle with the railroad) convinced of our superiority. Is this an expression of American exceptionalism? Initially, in American literature, the frontier was the wilderness that surrounded us. “Young Goodman Brown” suggests that not only humans but also God cannot control the forest because it is a place of the devil. The ranchers in The Octopus cannot control the wheat (or the earth) any more than they can the railroad, and it is noted in the novel that both the wheat and the railroad grow on their own. Americans in the fifties feared the influence of Communism, and the monsters in the horror films of that period were mostly creatures and aliens, monsters that could be described as foreign, and the movies themselves, such as Invasion of the Body Snatchers, could often be interpreted as metaphors for fear of Communism. As we fought wars to spread democracy and stymie Communism, the world became the frontier. Americans in the sixties feared the breakdown of the family and society in the wake of social change and the equal rights movement. While monster films were still made, more often monsters were humans, and they directed their violence more frequently at women, especially liberated, modern women. These films reflected the anxiety felt by conservative, traditional Americans who worried about the effects of diversity, minorities, and feminists on the nuclear family. More specifically, the killers in horror films get to act out male fantasies of putting liberated, empowered females in their place without fear of being called misogynists.
In the remake of Evil Dead, Mia’s possession by the demon works as a metaphor for her addiction to drugs. However, sexual politics play a role in the story as well. The vine that violates Mia in the Evil Dead remake issues from the mouth of her demonic doppelgänger, suggesting that she herself is responsible for what is happening to her. Is it really nature that is raping Mia? It seems to be another version of a woman being blamed for her own rape. The logic goes like this: If Mia were not a drug addict and had not gone to the woods to detox with her friends and her brother (who are trying to help), neither she nor any of her friends and family would have been killed or traumatized. Mia is punished for not bearing the burden of her mother’s illness gracefully as a good sister would after her brother abandons them, for not being a good girl. She survives only through her brother’s intervention. Although she does defend herself from the demon, it would not have been possible had her brother not saved her. Many modern horror stories seems to function like fairy tales for women; they serve as warnings for what happens when women misbehave by violating traditional gender norms. The Final Girl trope reflects this idea; if the girl remains a virgin, avoids drugs and alcohol, and uses her wits, she’ll survive. Modern Americans live in fear that America is no longer a superpower, that our nation’s power and influence are a thing of the past. Pundits and political commentators demonize Islam to give Americans an outlet for their fear of terrorism. Are we expressing this fear in our horror movies? Do we believe that by defeating demons, the undead, nature, and other monsters that we can somehow regain our standing in the world? Despite being shown time and again that certain death awaits those who venture into the woods to stay at a deserted cabin, moviegoers continue to watch the movie, wondering what will happen. Perhaps we watch, not because we know what will happen or don’t know what will happen, but because we hope that should something similar ever happen to us, we would be the lone survivor. As a cop, Brody’s responsibility is to maintain order and ensure the safety of the community. Cops are expected to behave selflessly and bravely, to put the needs of others ahead of themselves. His attitude toward the shark contrasts sharply with the attitude of the mayor, who puts profit ahead of the safety of the community and its visitors. This conflict seems to reflect America’s distrust of the government in the post-Watergate era. The mayor is quite similar to Ahab and the owners of the ship; Ahab puts the safety of his crew second to his revenge while the owners desire profit above all else. Also, if the ocean is a new frontier, Brody is the Wild West sheriff who tries to put out all the fires by himself. It is only when he accepts some help that the audience begins to hope that the humans might win the battle.
Moby Dick survives because the evil he represents is still alive in America; although Ahab dies, racism will continue because there are other white men still alive to continue the practice of slavery. Even though the non-whites on the ship are not technically slaves, they are essentially treated as such when they are performing the most dangerous tasks for the profit of the white owners and white captain. Ishmael, the least experienced (and least racist?) sailor is the sole survivor, so perhaps Melville is not totally convinced of man’s evil nature, or perhaps Ishmael simply functions as an independent, outside observer. Jaws is destroyed much as Nixon’s career was destroyed. While the threat of an untrustworthy government lingered in the American psyche in the mid-1970s, the fact that Nixon was impeached and the bad guys were caught gave America some sense of relief and comfort. It demonstrated that even the most powerful were not above the law. In a time when many minorities were fighting for rights and social justice, the Watergate scandal was simultaneously reassuring and disturbing. These texts reflects their time periods as well as the outlooks of their creators. Melville is not hopeful; in fact, he seems pessimistic when it comes to human nature. Ahab’s quest for revenge drives him insane, and he jeopardizes the lives of others (mostly men of color) in order to pursue his vengeance. He shows no concern for his crew, only for his own desires. Spielberg, however, looks for the good in humanity. It is worth noting that it is not the man of science who defeats Jaws, nor is it the experienced fisherman. The man who triumphs over the beast is the man who is most determined, the man who, from the beginning, wants to defeat the beast because it poses a danger to all humans and because it is his job to protect them. Although destroying the monster gives him satisfaction, personal pleasure is not his primary motivation, yet it is interesting that he says he’s not afraid of the water anymore after he kills Jaws and even comments that he doesn’t know why he was ever scared. These comments indicate that while he does not derive pleasure from his triumph over Jaws, he does relish the sense of control and power it gives him. He no longer fears the ocean because he has conquered one of its most dangerous predators. He has played “cowboys and Indians” with other men and can now return home to his family, knowing that he has protected them from the dangers of the frontier. These same ideas play out in the space movies of the seventies and early eighties. Spielberg’s E.T. comes to mind; the adults (especially the men) all try to destroy or analyze the alien “monster” whereas the innocent child, who has grown up with little frontier anxiety, sees the monster for what he is, a being with thoughts and feelings like himself. Moby-Dick also lives because the frontier at the time, although shrinking, is still open. In the 1800s, man still faced the dangers of nature and the struggle to survive, the fear of being destroyed by nature, still held a prominent place in the American mind. Moby-Dick survives because he represents the unrelenting and unflinching power of nature. Jaws dies because the Americans of the 1970s have come to believe they can control nature; man has traveled in space- the "final frontier," and much of the ocean has been explored. In fact, they can control (or influence) nature so well that some fear humans are destroying it. Jaws is not an ecological revenge fantasy; the animal is obliterated. Jaws is the last gasp of naturalism, where the modern viewpoint- that man (with some help from science) can overpower nature- triumphs. In the seventies, we see the frontier anxiety transferred away from animals and nature to foreign places and foreign people like Vietnam. Although the jungles of Vietnam were intimidating and foreign, it was the people- who used nature as a weapon- who were more frightening, mostly because it was nearly impossible to tell friend from foe. I would not characterize either Moby Dick or Jaws as simply dumb animals. They are indeed creatures of habit and instinct who are simply trying to survive, but, when threatened, there is no significant difference between these animals and the human animal. What is frightening about these creatures (other than their immense destructive power) is their lack of emotion. They are driven by needs, not desires. While these animals do represent other evils such as racism or dishonesty, they also reflect the beastliness inside of each of us, which we also fear and recognize as evil. They reflect the dangers of giving in to one's base instincts. Yes, these urges help us to survive, but allowing them to drive us when we are not in a fight or flight situation is to unleash the animal or monster within us. Animals usually only become monsters when they are threatened by humans. Humans become monsters when they act without threat or provocation. Savannah, I agree with you that Huntly’s immediate suspicion that somehow the unidentified man is “connected with the fate of Waldegrave” feels like revisionist history on his part (10). As Jessica observes, it could be that he is an unreliable narrator or a man trying to impress his fiancée. This foreboding could also simply be an indication of Brown’s Gothic or Romantic style. It is also disturbing that Huntly’s first thought is of revenge.
The article about William Penn mentions that he signed a treaty with the Native Americans under an elm tree. It cannot be a coincidence that this novel set in Pennsylvania opens with the main character returning to the site of his friend’s murder under an elm tree and finding a shadowy figure who then disappears into the woods. Although the mystery person is not a Native American, but the foreigner Clitherto, isn’t Brown referencing Americans’ discomfort with all types of strangers? Furthermore, Huntly points out that Clitherto is one of the few outsiders in the area. He notes that most of the locals have inherited their lands from their fathers, that their “scheme, was, for the most part, a patriarchal one” (Brown 14). Brown presents Clitherto immediately as the dangerous “other.” There is palpable tension; a young nation is trying to prove its civilization to the world while simultaneously committing uncivilized acts of barbarism and dishonesty against the natives, like the Walking Treaty of 1737. Simultaneously, the nation is also trying to protect itself from suspicious and potentially disloyal foreigners, like Clitherto, through the Alien and Sedition Acts. Displacement certainly plays a role in Clitherto’s behavior. First, he kills Wiatte, and it seems to be a case of self-defense. Or is it? If it is self-defense, then it was an impulsive act, not calculated murder. After all, Clithrto claims that his “exertions were mechanical”(66). However, if it were self-defense, why does he feel so guilty? He feels guilty because he loves Mrs. Lorimer so much, but his love does not is strictly filial. Wiatte threatens their happiness; he is an evil father-figure who must be eliminated so that Mrs. Lorimer and Clarice can be happy, but the real motivation seems to be so that Clitherto can keep his ladies to himself. It is also worth noting that even if his murder of Wiatte was not premeditated, his murder of Mrs. Lorimer, the independent white woman, is. He tries to kill Mrs. Lorimer, the woman who has given him everything- education and employment as well as wealth and status through his impending marriage to Clarice. It seems as though he desires her, and he believes, that by killing her, he can assuage these feelings as well as his guilt for killing Wiatte. He tries to justify his second act of violence as protecting her from knowledge of her brother’s death, but he invades her bedroom and then attacks her with a knife. The symbolism is too sexual to be denied. Then it is revealed that it is actually Clarice lying in the bed; mother and daughter resemble each other so much that Clitherto mistook one for the other. One has to wonder if Clitherto would have been happier to kill Clarice or her mother. Clitherto seems to resent and desire Mrs. Lorimer in equal measure. She possesses many desirable feminine traits; she is generous, kind, nurturing, motherly, and elegant. Yet, she chose to maintain her independence after her husband’s death by not remarrying, and in their relationship, she is definitely more powerful than Clitherto. His attempt to murder could be as much to ease his guilt as it is to put her in her proper place and assert his power. He might not have as much financial or social power as Mrs. Lorimer, but he can dominate her physically. No matter her strong or independent a woman becomes, a man is practically guaranteed superiority in a physical struggle. Clitherto claims that his attempt on Mrs. Lorimer’s life is a “moment of insanity” but later reveals to Huntly that “[he is] alike infested by memory in wakefulness and slumber”(84). This admission suggests that Clitherto was completely aware of his actions all along. The Shining condemns racism in America. As soon as the Torrances arrive at the Overlook Hotel, the manager explains that the hotel is supposedly built on a Native American burial ground and that the builders even fended off several attacks from the Native Americans. He mentions these facts as though they are merely footnotes, as though building on sacred land and killing indigenous peoples were no more troublesome or significant than leveling the ground or dealing with inclement weather. No Native Americans will stand in the way of American progress and capitalism. Native American patterns and motifs are repeated throughout the hotel in the stained glass, in the rugs, in the floor tiles, and in the carvings around the elevators, and although the beauty of these patterns is remarked upon (only by Wendy, who is herself part of a marginalized minority), no one seems to notice the irony of using Native American art to decorate a building that desecrates a burial ground.
The character of Dick Hallorann seems to represent not only African Americans in the movie, but Native Americans as well. When Dick give Wendy and Danny a tour of the kitchen, there is shot of his profile as they are standing in the storage room. Directly behind Hallorann's head is a jar or can of Calumet Baking Powder, whose label features the profile of an Indian in full headdress. The placement of Hallorann's next to the Native American on the jar highlights striking similarities and reinforces Hallorann's role as the "other" in this film. Hallorann is later connected to the Native Americans a second time when he is murdered by Jack and his bloody body sprawls across one of the striking Native American patterns in the hotel's floor. Although presenting Hallorann as a stand in for the Native Americans might seem far fetched, he is definitely used to represent African Americans and reveal the lingering racism in America. Jack meets Delbert Grady, who assures him that only the "best people" come to the Overlook Hotel and in the same conversation refers to Hallorann as not just a "n*****" but a "n***** cook"(Kubrick, The Shining). Use of this slur is clear racism, and Jack does not contradict or correct his use of the term, which indicates his tacit agreement with the description. Furthermore, in conjunction with Grady's comment about how only the best people come to the Ovelook, Grady's insistence on calling Hallorann a "n***** cook" smacks of class snobbery as well (Kubrick, The Shining). Grady is determined to make Jack aware that this uppity African American man is involving himself in Jack's family, which according to Grady's and Jack's patriarchal world view is unacceptable and intolerable. According to the white men in The Shining, the only way to solve a problem with a minority- women, African Americans, the lower class, or Native Americans- is to kill them. Jack's appearance in the photo from July 4, 1921, suggests the truth of the matter, that Jack and his beliefs belong in a different time. Jack would be happier in world that is white and homogenous, where women know their proper place. |
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