(S)expolitation: A Primer

When you spend eight hours in a car with a close friend you haven't seen in a while, the time just flies by as you talk and talk and talk, catching up on months of separation. I wish I could tell you most of our conversation was full of enlightening repartee, witty banter, and incisive criticisms about 21st century social-economics, but the truth of the matter is that Lady Dinwhistle and I are just too foul-mouthed for that kind of talk. Mostly we talked about men.

However, in between musings on cheese and the benefits of living by yourself (pantlessness being primary among them), we did manage a relatively high-brow dialogue about exploitation in film. Lady Dinwhistle had some particularly interesting things to say--stuff I'd never thought of--and we found ourselves in total agreement on the topic of exploitative horror.

I'm a really good driver and this almost never happens.

Before I go any further, let me ask a question: what is exploitation, really? The word gets bandied about like a shuttlecock on a summer afternoon, but do we really know what we're talking about? I here define exploitation horror as either lurid, gratuitous, and/or sensationalistic depictions of sex/violence. This simple definition might appear to be too broad and by my standards any horror movie could be classified as exploitation--and I'm willing to entertain the notion that all horror cinema is, to some extent, exploitative--but my vagueness serves a purpose.

Usually when we talk exploitation, we're talking about how the audience reacts to what's on screen. But I submit that exploitation might also refer to character relationships within the films themselves. I'll first give an example of straight-up visual exploitation to better explain what I'm talking about and then move on to an example of character exploitation. Though both kinds of exploitation stem from the same source--taking advantage of something or someone--the two are showcased quite differently on screen.

I don't care what your name is, you'll always be Dick Casablancas to me.

In 2009's Friday the 13th remake, Chelsea water skis topless. While this topless scene is wholly gratuitous, completely unnecessary and does nothing to move the story forward, Chelsea's decision to take her shirt off is perfectly normal, given that she is a) slutty, and b) an exhibitionist. For these reasons, her nudity isn't exploitative. But this same scene ends on an exploitative note. Chelsea looses her grip on the towrope and hits the water and, from then on, is only seen from the neck up--she's still topless but her breasts are no longer exposed to view. Swimming for safety from Jason, Chelsea hides under a dock. Jason stabs Chelsea in the head, though the dock, and yanks on his machete to free it from her skull. The effort of pulling the knife from Chelsea's head forces her body to rise out of the water before the blade comes free, giving the audience one last eyeful of boob. But because Chelsea is dead, the image, though still gratuitous, takes on a lurid quality, underscored with a hint of necrophilia. What's more is that because Jason is asexual, it doesn't benefit him to catch a glimpse of Chelsea's bare chest (his vantage point also prohibits a clear view of Chelsea). Rather, the whole kill scene was staged and shot for the benefit of the audience. The combined effect of dead, exposed breasts and the filmmakers' deliberate staging of the action makes this moment extremely exploitative and serves as a perfect example of how exploitation works as a relationship between the audience and the film.

Not pictured: the actual scene from the actual movie.

Chelsea's toplessness isn't exploitative because it's within the nature of her character to expose herself, but Jason's manipulation of Chelsea's body--pulling her bare chest from the water, is completely exlpoitative because Chelsea's agency is no longer a factor. In Freddy vs Jason, we find a example of how character agency works to create an exploitative situation while the camera work remains neutral. While people are hanging out at Lori's house, Trey takes Gibb upstairs for sex. The sex scene is not filmed in such a way that would make it exploitative for the audience--Gibb never exposes her breasts to the camera. In fact, part of the scene is shot from Jason's point of view, and he is, as I stated, disinterested in sex as a pleasurable or stimulating exercise. Thus Jason's POV is necessarily neutral. Instead, the exploitation is to be found in the relationship between Gibb and Trey; Gibb has self-esteem issues and letes the overbearing Trey boss her around. When they have sex, Gibb does all the work and Trey takes no interest in her pleasure. Trey is exploiting Gibb in the truest sense of the word--he takes complete advantage of her for his own benefit and with no regard for her welfare*.

Horror, more than any other genre, is well-suited to explore exploitation both a relationship between film and audience, and as a relationship between characters. Most discourses, and most films for that matter, generally stick to the more overt and easily identified type of exploitation, the visuals. I've said it before that sex sells, as does violence, but some of the sex and violence we see on screen, though keyed to a particular aesthetic, might not always be understood as exploitative when, in fact, they are.

And it's Rob Zombie with the win!

*What makes the scene all the more interesting is that shortly after they finish having sex, Jason kills Trey. Gibb is in the shower at this point but Jason doesn't kill her. Instead, he leaves the house. Sex doesn't figure largely in this movie, so it's almost impossible to comment on the "triumvirate of evil" in Freddy vs Jason, but the fact that Trey is killed immediately after having exploitative sex with Gibb, while Gibb herself is left unmolested, suggests a moral code not found in many slashers.

The Night of the Hunter (1955)

I once loaned out a great book about the history of American film to a guy I used to like. He never gave it back. So what could have been a great review peppered with insight on the American film industry in the mid-20th century, will instead be a great review with a creepy picture of Robert Mitchum.

Ben Harper has stolen ten thousand dollars. Before he's captured by the police, he hides the money and makes his children swear they will never tell where it is. While in prison, Ben shares a cell with Powell. Powell learns about Ben's stash, but Ben refuses to tell him where it is. After Ben's execution and Powell's release, Powell sets out to find the widow Harper. Though Willa has no idea where the money is, Powell suspects her children do. But young John Harper doesn't like Powell and refuses to tell him. Powell grows more frustrated and dangerous the longer John holds out, and eventually John and his little sister Pearl run away. But Powell follows, desperate to find the location of he hidden cash. John and Pearl finally find salvation with Mrs. Cooper, a widow who takes in wayward children. When Powel comes calling, Mrs. Cooper vows to protect the kids at all costs.

The Night of the Hunter is a story of greed and murder, made all the more horrifying by Powell's identification as a preacher. A preacher who travels across the country killing widows. This is no third act revelation--we first meet Powell while he's driving a stolen car, engaged in a one-way conversation with God, talking about the dead women he's left in his wake. But though we know him to be a sinister and dangerous man, to everyone else he's a silver-tongued man of God. The film uses this dramatic irony to create an atmosphere of suspense as we watch Powell woo the widow Harper while he menaces her children.

Okay, two for good measure.

Adding to the tension and drama is the fact that the audience is in the same boat as Powell--we don't know where the money is any more than he. And though we certainly don't want to side with Powell, the mystery of the hidden stash draws us in. Partway through the film it's revealed to us where Harper put the money and we're freed from our association with Powell. Not long after this revelation, John and Pearl run away from the preacher, who is now their stepfather, further alienating the audience from Powell.

Set in early 20th century puritanical rural America, small town life serves as a backdrop for Powell's predatory nature. Everyone is taken in by Powell's charisma, and Powell uses his position of authority to manipulate and victimize those around him. On his wedding night, he refuses to sleep with Willa, using scripture as an excuse. In an effort to please her new husband, Willa becomes a zealot, and refuses her sexual desires. Later on, in order to incure sympathy, Powell tells his neighbours that Willa is the one who turned him out of bed. And when John and Pearl are taken in by Mrs. Cooper, Powell preys upon Ruby, a sexually active girl who also lives in the Cooper home, in order to gain access to the house. Powell's charm, however, doesn't work on John, so he must threaten him outright and in stark contrast to the kindly or chaste preacher he pretends to be for everyone else.

Powell's ability to win over the adults who populate the film is mirrored by John's inability to ally himself with a helpful grownup. The only other person John knows who hasn't fallen under Powell's spell is Birdie, a lonely old man who lives by the river. Birdie tells John that he can be counted on for help, but when John needs him, Birdie is passed out drunk. Thus in John's world, adults cannot be trusted. So when John and Pearl find themselves in the care of Mrs. Cooper, John is rightfully closed off. When Powell comes calling, Mrs. Cooper sees through his lies, and John's faith in adults is restored.

Night of the Hunter begins with Ben Harper being tackled by the police and hauled off to prison. It's a traumatic experience for John, and though he doesn't know it yet, the first in a long line of heartbreaks. The film ends in much the same way, only this time Powell is the one taken down. The symmetry proves too much for John and, overcome with emotion, he gives Powell the money. The moment is one of catharsis for John, and dark irony for Powell because the money was with the kids the whole time.

And a third one, because you know...

The picture of the money scattered around Powell's handcuffed figure is only one moment in a film filled with halting imagery. Filmed in black and white (later re-issues are coloured), the sets and lighting create a foreboding atmosphere and spaces of religious mania and danger. The night before Powell enters their lives, John is telling Pearl a story. He's lit by the lamplight shining through his bedroom window, and just when he reaches a crucial point in his story, Powell's shadow falls over him, foretelling the dark days ahead. Powell and Willa's bedroom, a place where a normal couple would consummate their love, is all sharp edges and pointy angles, very church-like in its design and represents at once, Powell's chastity, his hold over Willa, and her subsequent descent into religious madness. When Powell has the children cornered in the cellar, he towers over them at the top of the stairs hurling threats down at them as they cower in the dark.

But the greatest thing about The Night of the Hunter is Robert Mitchum. He is incredibly menacing and cold, and I'm sure there's a comparison to be made here between his Powell and his Grady in Cape Fear--a character who is equally single-minded and dangerous--but I haven't yet seen the latter. Suffice it to say that he had me on edge the whole time as he relentlessly pursued that ten thousand dollars, wooing and charming and murdering his way to his goal.

Cherry Falls

A few years ago, my friend and I rented a double feature DVD based purely on the strength of its copy. The first movie was the horror anthology Terror Tract, which, though entertaining, was not very good. The second movie was Cherry Falls.

Jody is a high school student living in the small town of Cherry Falls. Her father is the Sheriff and her mother...well her mother is a bit of an alcoholic who fancies her boyfriend, Kenny. Life is pretty normal for Jody and her friends until someone starts murdering virgins. Soon the whole town is in an uproar and the students at Washington High take it upon themselves to solve the problem by having a sex party. As the virgins prepare to pop their cherries, Jody delves deeper into the mystery and discovers a terrible secret that leads her straight to the killer.

This movie gets better every time I watch it. Without being self-referential, Cherry Falls brilliantly comments on teenage sex while undermining horror movie conventions. Its themes of purity and vengeance are intertwined with those of love and desire. Also, it's pretty funny.

Jay Mohr plays Mr. Marliston, Jody's English teacher, and his awkwardness around her is incredibly endearing. It almost breaks your heart to learn that his only interest in Jody is as his victim. Additionally, Jay Mohr's performance as the cross-dressing killer ranks up there with Anthony Perkins and Michael Caine. His role of male teacher/female killer mimics similar dualities in Psycho and Dressed to Kill, in which a man provides help to or assists a woman in some way with the end goal of killing her while dressed in drag. In the case of Cherry Falls, Mr. Marliston's psychosis is driven by his mother's past and he exacts a revenge which is mother, now dead, is incapable of doing.

Brittany Murphy is Jody, the innocent victim in all this. And though she has a hand in defeating the murderer, he is ultimately killed by another woman, and non-virgin, Deputy Mina. But this movie is not really a tale of female empowerment or the triumph of the pure (biologically or morally) over the corrupt. Rather, teens in general, as opposed to women in particular, find empowerment through sexuality, and the film itself is morally ambiguous. In the same way Cherry Falls doesn't play host to a number of horror movie stereotypes and conventions, it refuses to comment on it's own story.

Perhaps best of all is the understated humour that runs throughout the film. In spite of the serious subject matter, the film finds humour in the situation seen through the lens of the high school experience. Everything's a huge deal when you're a teenager, and any setback in your personal life, no matter how insignificant, could spell the end of the world. Whatever happens to anyone else, however, is just gossip. Thus, the brutal death of fellow classmates, though tragic and sad, is ultimately treated with a certain amount of detachment which allows for a sardonic wit.

Holy hymens, Batman, they're killing virgins!

Scary Stuff This Sex

The drill is his penis, get it?

Now I’m no prude, but I can’t help but feel that a lot of, indeed maybe too many modern horror movies are based in sex. It should come as no surprise that I blame the postmodern horror movement of the 80s and 90s for that one. Constant referrals to premarital sex in horror movies have inspired a generation of filmmakers to produce what essentially amounts to soft-core splatter porn. I fully acknowledge that sex sells and a good part of the horror industry is driven by this one simple fact, but there’s a whole other side to sex which I think is woefully under-exploited in modern, mainstream slashers: gender.

What I find most interesting is the fact that slashers in particular focus heavily on sex, while other genre films deal with sex and gender issues. Fatal Attraction, though it belongs to the nebulous suspense/thriller category, is about the fallout from a one night stand. Love Doll and Spiral are both about a man’s unrealized sexual desire for a female friend. And Teeth deals with repressed sexuality and uses sex as a weapon to defend against sexual predators. In these examples, sex helps to move the story forward, but gender is also addressed; men have a weakness for women, and women are fearful as the Other.

Wanted to plug this book. It's excellent.

Modern slashers have little to offer other than an eyeful of fake tits. Admittedly I don’t watch these movies for intellectual stimulation, but the sheer amount of nudity in the new Friday the 13^th actually detracted from the film. Also the film’s treatment of the naked women was borderline offensive: recall Jason stabbing a topless woman and pulling her body from the water giving us one last look at her breasts before he disposed of her corpse. The original Friday the 13^th gave nakedness the same blasé treatment it gave smoking pot—as a matter of course. If modern films could somehow find a way to embrace the naturalness of nudity and sex, then their stories wouldn’t stall while characters abscond to the bedroom or the woods.

I’m not asking for anything intellectual or highfalutin. Indeed, all I want from a horror movie is for it not to be completely stupid and for it to have good effects. For me, everything takes a back seat to story, and unnecessary or crappy effects just piss me off. I’m not suggesting people cut the sex entirely from their movies, but if people would muse a bit less on tits and ass and a bit more on gender roles and gender differences, and sex as story element, then maybe we can see a move away from tawdry remakes like Rob Zombie’s Halloween, and a move toward more original fare like Cherry Falls.

The worst offender.