In horror movies, castration anxiety is evoked as a primal fear from early childhood when menacing knife-wielding figures stalk their childlike victims. Moments of castration anxiety are at their most terrifying when they elicit this childhood fear directly. Though Damien (Harvey Stephens) is a child of evil in The Omen (1976), the moment when his father (Gregory Peck) pulls out a butcher knife and tries to chop him up is incredibly terrifying because of the primal father-son hostility it represents. Even though John Huston’s The Bible (1966) was not a thriller, the moment when Abraham (George C. Scott) whips out a long dagger to slaughter his son on the altar is terrifying, even though Abraham is obeying the word of God. The castration anxiety theme is drawn out to maximum effect in Stanley Kubrick’s The Shining (1980), in which a psychotic axe-wielding father (Jack Nicholson) spends most of the Third Act chasing his terrified son (Danny Lloyd) through a haunted hotel and spooky hedge maze.
Child Monsters
Following the successful resolution of the Oedipal complex, a period of psychosexual stillness ensues in which sexual impulses are repressed by a strong superego. According to Freud, children during the latency period learn to channel their sexual and aggressive drives into other activities such as sports. Boys tend to become especially aggressive during the mid-to-late childhood years, engaging in bullying, fighting, vandalism and even animal abuse. Many males can recall a “year in which everything must die” (typically between the ages of nine to twelve). In this stage, every bottle they see gets broken, every bird gets a rock thrown at it, every recess period involves a fistfight, and every bully beats a whipping boy. The resolution of the Oedipal complex results in the repression of sexual drives; but these impulses are merely redirected into aggressive activities.
Frankenstein
It is no secret that children are the core audience for the horror movie genre. Perhaps this is because children can enjoy a vicarious release of psychic tension in seeing their latent sexuality and aggression run amok on the screen in the image of a wild monster. Within the monster, children see a representation of their own id. In Frankenstein, children see a monster much like themselves. Like Dr. Frankenstein’s monster, they did not ask to be brought into this cruel world, they were created and forced into life by an adult. The essential conflict for Frankenstein’s monster is the same as the conflict for children. They were created with instinctual drives. Their creator knows about these drives because he created them. Nevertheless, the unmerciful creator balks at his creation whenever the creation’s basic instincts are expressed. He punishes his creation and locks him in a dungeon. When his creation escapes and runs away, the creator tracks him down and punishes him even more severely. The sympathetic figure of the Frankenstein monster resonates in the minds of children, who are trying to come to grips with the inherent cruelty and unfairness of their world. While the monster figure has been depicted in a myriad of forms—werewolves, mummies, zombies, etc.—the pitiable Frankenstein monster remains extremely resonant, second in the horror genre only to the vampire.
Child Monster. The irresponsible Creator encounters his hapless Creation, recapturing the childhood conflicts between father and son. Dr. Frankenstein (Colin Clive), left, faces the Monster (Boris Karloff). Frankenstein (1931), Universal Pictures.
Evil Children
In the Middle Ages, the dominant philosophy of child rearing was that children are born evil, their wickedness being evident in their amoral and sinful behavior. It is the parents’ duty to “beat the devil out” of their children until they learn how to behave morally. Nietzsche’s belief that guilt is internalized pain descended from external physical punishment is bolstered by the fact that brutal treatment of children was considered appropriate, rather than abusive, throughout human history. The primitive concept of the evil or possessed child still brings chills to theater audiences. Village of the Damned (1960), The Exorcist (1973), The Omen (1976) and Children of the Corn (1984) are all films in which children possessed by powerful demonic forces perform acts of evil against their feeble parents. These films appeal to children because they offer fantasies that represent a complete role-reversal of the castration anxiety theme. In the “evil child” horror movie, children are the all-powerful forces who beat and punish their emasculated parents. No longer required to repress their aggression, the children become id monsters who are free of guilt and unafraid of punishment or parental authority.
Evil children are especially scary because they defy our expectations. We don’t expect innocent kids to be depraved killers. In The Bad Seed (1956) and The Good Son (1993), baby-faced, blonde-haired, blue-eyed kids literally get away with murder because none of the adults can believe that these angelic little children are actually ruthless psychopaths. As in any horror movie, the unexpected and counterintuitive provide an element of surprise, which is the most terrifying aspect of the cinema thriller. It’s Alive took this premise to ridiculous lengths by casting a newborn baby in the role of evil psycho-killer. Children can experience the vicarious release of forbidden primal impulses by identifying with child monsters in their favorite horror movies.
Reawakenings
In Freud’s final stage of psychosexual development, the genital stage, sexual desire comes back with a vengeance. Ideally, the young adolescent has resolved his Oedipal complex, so the desire for love and sex are directed away from Mother and onto a socially appropriate love object. The prevailing theme of the genital stage is the reawakening of primal sexual desire, represented as a “reawakening” motif in horror movies. In what is generally considered to be the first feature length horror film, The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (1920), a zombie-like figure (Conrad Veidt) lives in a trance state until his spirit is awakened by the beauty of a woman (Lil Dagover). In zombie movies, the trance is reminiscent of the latency stage, in which libido energy lay dormant in a state of psychosexual slumber. The reawakening of the zombie is analogous to the reawakening of libido energy at the genital stage.
In The Mummy (1932), the exact same theme is played out. Thousands of years ago, Imhotep (Boris Karloff) was punished for his forbidden sexual relationship with the Pharaoh’s mistress (Zita Johann). He was mummified alive. The plot is a faithful recapitulation of the Oedipal myth: The Pharaoh represents the jealous father, his mistress represents the mother and Imhotep represents the son. The son’s forbidden desire for the mother results in punishment and a curse by the father. When his spirit is reawakened, the love and desire return with a vengeance. The Oedipal allusions in mummy and zombie movies are very thinly veiled. A zealous Freudian might even draw inferences between the similar sounding words: “Mummy,” “Zombie” and “Mommy.”
Beauty and the Beast
A central theme in nearly all horror movies is the monster or villain’s desire for the beautiful young maiden, which usually culminates in the Third Act when the monster abducts the maiden. This desire is evil and unpure, because it represents the reawakening of the old incestuous desires of the Oedipal complex. This unhealthy desire must be defeated and replaced by a healthy love between the maiden and the hero. Symbolically, the Oedipal complex is successfully resolved when the hero (the ego) defeats the monster (the id) with the help of his mentor (the superego) and rescues the maiden.
Nevertheless, the maiden’s attitude towards the monster is often conflicted between gut reactions of horror and disgust mixed with feelings of pity and sympathy for the beast. This conflict exists because the maiden simultaneously represents two psychological figures. On the surface, she is a beautiful nubile girl in love with a handsome boy. Her horrified reactions to the dark, distorted monster are justified. But on a deeper level, she also represents the primordial mother figure that the monster is drawn to. As Mother, she feels and cares for the poor beast, and sympathizes with his tragic dilemma of unrequited love. Though her role is typically inactive, the maiden’s character is often the most intriguing, because she is conflicted between her maidenly love for the hero and her motherly sympathy for the beast.
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In many horror films, the dual role of the maiden character is symbolized through a spiritual link between the two sides of her psyche. In Francis Ford Coppola’s remake of Dracula (1992), the Count (Gary Oldman) falls in love with Mina (Winona Ryder) because she is the spiritual reincarnation of his long-lost love, Elisabeta. Similarly, in the latest remake of The Mummy (1999), Evelyn (Rachel Weisz) just happens to be the perfect vessel into which Imhotep can place the resurrected soul of his ancient lover, Anck Su Namun. And in a clever variation of the reincarnation theme, Elsa Lanchester in The Bride of Frankenstein (1935) plays both the resurrected beauty intended to be the monster’s bride as well as Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley, the creative “mother” of the Frankenstein myth. As the maiden “bride,” Elsa is horrified and disgusted by her monster suitor. But as the spiritual mother of the monster, she spins a tale in which her audience sympathizes with the beast as a tragic creature who deserves pity rather than scorn.
King Kong (1933) remains the most powerful portrayal of the “beauty and the beast” theme in horror movies, because Kong is the most sympathetic of the beast monsters. Like Frankenstein’s monster, Kong is an unwilling player in an irresponsible man’s game. Kong is captured, taken by force out of the jungle and dragged into the heart of civilization. His love and desire for Ann (Fay Wray) is pure and simplistic, like the love and desire of the infant for his mother. In the famous scene in which the giant ape tickles Ann, we see that Kong’s fascination with Ann’s body is sexual, but endearingly childish at the same time. Though Kong wishes to possess Ann, he treats her gently and lovingly. He even protects her from other beasts that want to destroy her. In the end, like Frankenstein’s monster, it is Kong’s unrequited love for Beauty that does him in. As his captor says in the final line of the film, “T’was Beauty killed the beast.”
Sleeping Beauty
As the feminine role in traditional societies is a passive one, so too are the traditional female roles in horror movies. Dracula, the Mummy, the Zombie and most other monsters tend to attack the women they desire while they are sleeping. The symbolism behind the sleeping beauty is manifold.
1. Monsters attack at night because they represent the powers and fears within the unconscious, which only come out in our nightmares.
2. The plot device of being attacked while sleeping triggers a universal fear of being attacked at the time in which we are completely defenseless.
3. By having the monster attack the girl in her bed, an erotic element is drawn in since the bed is a symbol for the act of sex.
4. Sleep is a direct reference to the female version of latency, in which the girl’s libido lays dormant until the time of her sexual awakening.
The sleeping beauty theme is ubiquitous in fairy tales. The Grimm Brothers story, Briar Rose, is the basis for the popular Snow White (1937) and Sleeping Beauty (1959) films and storybooks. Like their male equivalents in mummy and zombie movies, these young maidens are cursed and put into a trance by a jealous same-sex parent figure. Their trance represents the latency stage of dormant sexuality, and their awakening by “love’s first kiss” is the symbol of sexual maturity. The sexual symbolism in these stories is more overt in Briar Rose, as the rose bud represents the vagina, which blooms and opens when the period of genital development is consummated. By the same token, the loss of virginity is often referred to as a “deflowering,” a symbolic reference to the rose-like quality of the female genitalia. Nevertheless, all of these stories are morality tales. In the moment before the monster can ravish the maiden, he is slain by the hero and the maiden is saved. The hero’s triumph represents the final resolution of the Oedipal complex. The old incestuous longings, represented by the monster, are gone. In its place is a healthy, mature and non-incestuous relationship between the hero and his nubile maiden.
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The American Family and Its Mechanisms of Defense
Anna Freud was Freud’s youngest daughter. Born in 1895, she was Freud’s only direct theoretical heir, as she was the only child to follow in her father’s footsteps in the field of psychoanalysis. Focusing her studies on analysis and therapy with children, Anna became a respected analyst and researcher in her own right, but became most well known for her formulation of her father’s concept of the ego defenses. Anna’s systemized model of the ego defense mechanisms have all slipped into common usage, and have therefore become significant elements of mass culture. Anna Freud died in 1982.
The function of the ego defense mechanisms follows Anna Freud’s dynamic model of neurotic conflict. In this model, an external stimulus elicits an unconscious desire. This desire results in a flow of libido energy, which must eventually be released. The superego then acts as a moral censor, deciding if the desire is either socially acceptable or unacceptable. If acting upon the desire is socially acceptable, then the desire becomes conscious and is acted upon. If acting upon the desire is socially or morally unacceptable to the superego, then guilt arises and a neurotic conflict is born. This conflict causes anxiety, which is disruptive to the ego’s functioning. The purpose of the ego defense mechanisms is to relieve some of the pressure from this conflict, thereby “defending” the ego from disturbing anxiety.
A common metaphor for Anna Freud’s theory is the “hydraulic model” of neurotic conflict, in which libido energy is compared to the water of a flowing river blocked by a hydraulic dam. The river represents the “unstoppable force” of libido energy, and the counter-force of the hydraulic dam represents the “immovable object” of guilt. The problem of anxiety is solved by an unconscious compromise, in which some of the psychic energy is vented in a socially appropriate way. The defense mechanisms are like an automated runoff system on a hydraulic dam, releasing pressure automatically without disrupting the normal functioning of the dam. Like a well-oiled machine, the ego keeps rolling along, completely unaware of the hostile battle between the id and superego raging just beneath the surface of the conscious mind. While the defense mechanisms are absolutely necessary for the normal functioning of the ego, they can also be extremely unhealthy when they are overused. When a defense mechanism calls attention to itself by disrupting the individual’s work or relationships, then it is no longer defending the ego, it is harming it.
Ordinary Denial
In her groundbreaking book, On Death and Dying (1969), Elisabeth Kubler-Ross identified denial as the first reaction to the knowledge that one has a fatal illness. Subsequent research has found that denial is the typical first reaction to any emotionally shocking information. When we hear some bad news about ourselves or someone we care about, our instinctive response is to say “No!” The refusal or inability to consciously accept emotionally disturbing information is a defense. It protects our ego from the initial shock of traumatic knowledge.
Ordinary Denial. Every member of the Jarrett household is in deep denial of the serious problems within the family. From left: Beth (Mary Tyler Moore), Beth’s father (Richard Whiting), Conrad (Timothy Hutton) and Calvin (Donald Sutherland). Ordinary People (1980) Paramount Pictures and Wildwood.
In cartoons, denial or obliviousness to conscious reality is a running gag. When Wile E. Coyote in the Roadrunner cartoons runs off the edge of a cliff, he’s perfectly fine as long as he doesn’t look down. Once he does look down and becomes conscious of his reality, he must accept his unfortunate state and fall. Similarly, babies in cartoons are completely oblivious to the dangers of the outside world. A baby can crawl through a dangerous construction site or slide down a precipitous slope without being hurt, while the adults pursuing the baby are injured at every turn. Only the adults are affected by the dangers, because they are the only ones who are consciously aware of them. The baby is in a state of blissful ignorance. In film, denial and the other defense mechanisms are less comical.
Calvin (Donald Sutherland) and Beth Jarrett (Mary Tyler Moore), the “ordinary” parents in Ordinary People (1980), tiptoe around their perfect suburban home, graciously oblivious to the fact that their on
ce happy family is now falling apart. Since the death of their elder son Buck in a tragic boating accident, each of the surviving members of the family has been deeply depressed. The film begins shortly after their younger son Conrad (Timothy Hutton) has returned home from a mental hospital, where he was institutionalized for an attempted suicide. Though he is obviously still deeply depressed and suicidal, he denies that there is anything wrong with him. Both his parents participate in the family denial, ignoring the clear signs of psychological disturbance in their son. Meanwhile, Calvin is also in denial of the fact that his wife Beth has become cold, distant and loveless since Buck’s death. He is unable to acknowledge that his wife, once a warm and affectionate mother, is now withholding love from their son, who desperately needs some maternal support. And on top of it all, Beth is the veritable “queen of denial.” She is completely unable to see that by shutting off her emotions in reaction to Buck’s death, she has also shut out her husband and son from her life.
Movies and the Mind Page 20
