Nightmare Magazine Issue 25, Women Destroy Horror! Special Issue

by Nightmare Magazine

  © 2014 by Lucy A. Snyder.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Lucy A. Snyder is the Bram Stoker Award-winning author of the novels Spellbent, Shotgun Sorceress, Switchblade Goddess, and the collections Orchid Carousals, Sparks and Shadows, Chimeric Machines, and Installing Linux on a Dead Badger. Her story collection Soft Apocalypses was just released by Raw Dog Screaming Press in July 2014. Her writing has been translated into French, Russian, and Japanese editions and has appeared in publications such as Chiral Mad 2, What Fates Impose, Once Upon a Curse, Strange Horizons, Weird Tales, Hellbound Hearts, Dark Faith, Chiaroscuro, GUD, and Best Horror of the Year, Vol. 5. You can learn more about her at lucysnyder.com.

  Baby Got Backbone:

  What Makes Strong Women Kick in Horror Films and TV Shows

  Maria Alexander

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  SPOILER WARNING: This essay contains spoilers as it analyzes characters in the following films and television shows: Alien, Aliens, Alien 3, Resident Evil, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel, The Silence of the Lambs, 28 Days Later, The Walking Dead, and Pan’s Labyrinth.

  * * *

  For decades, most female characters in horror films were little more than monster bait in need of rescue. As more horror films and television shows depict high-powered women, we seem to be turning the page on sexism to reveal a new era of women who can punch, cut, and shoot their way through apocalyptic and supernatural dangers. Some of the most popular and iconic female “badasses” are held up as examples that entertainment companies are at last creating “strong” female characters.

  But punching, cutting, and shooting their foes isn’t what makes these women strong.

  Just as might does not make right for male characters, neither does the addition of combat skills for female characters. In some cases it masks their true fortitude and in other cases it’s a substitute for it. Let’s examine what’s behind the rifle sights of some female horror icons.

  Ripley in the Alien movies is probably one of the most famous women in horror movie history, as well as one of the genre’s first empowered women. But firepower isn’t what makes her a strong character. Flamethrowers and military rifles are distractions as we attempt to redefine female characters as something other than monster meat.

  If we look at Ripley more closely, her moral strengths far outstrip her physical ferocity. Without being a stereotypical “badass,” she displays enormous character strength in Alien as she takes command of the Nostromo after the invasion of a deadly alien creature; she then clashes with the corporate orders to kill her crew and ultimately survives the terrifying ordeal. In Aliens, she travels back to the planet where the Nostromo originally picked up the creature, only to find that an entire colony of human beings has been decimated—all except Newt, a child. As her “mama bear” instincts emerge, she turns from surviving engineer to an enraged action hero who goes toe-to-claw with the Queen alien, revealing the side of her that takes no crap and dishes it back. Strapping on the grenade launcher as she prepares to face threats is as much a metaphor for embracing her inner strength as it is preparation for battle. And in Alien 3, she extends those instincts to humanity itself, sacrificing her life for the survival of the human species when the corporation impregnates her with one of the alien creatures.

  Really, when we say “strong,” we mean “heroic.” The character isn’t merely a romantic interest for the male lead character, nor is she a passive character that suffers the consequences of everyone else’s actions. She is a hero, someone who accepts a challenge and does what needs to be done in the face of overwhelming danger.

  Because the movie Resident Evil has dubious origins in videogame gore, it’s easy to dismiss Alice, the film’s main character, as an avatar of male fantasy with her short skirt and pretty face fleshed out by Milla Jovovich. (In the game, you could choose to be either a male character or the female character, Jill Valentine. However, Jill doesn’t have Alice’s backstory). Alice’s memory has been temporarily wiped by nerve gas just before a team of commandos descends upon the mansion in which she’s living. They drag her and another man they find into an underground science facility owned by the Umbrella Corporation to contain a threat detected by the facility’s main computer. A virus has been released that has turned the corporate employees into zombies. As Alice regains her memory, she uncovers her extraordinary hand-to-hand fighting and firearms skills that allow her to dispatch large numbers of zombies not unlike the military operative, Rain Ocampo, played by fan favorite Michelle Rodriguez.

  But in addition to regaining her superlative combat skills, Alice recovers her memory in flashbacks that reveal a far superior strength: moral courage in the face of insurmountable odds. Leading up to the current crisis, she and another woman were plotting to take down the sinister and ubiquitous Umbrella Corporation. Her convictions about the corporation’s evils and her fearless attempts to defy an omnipotent foe are her true claims to strength.

  This is not to say that in post-apocalyptic tales physical strength and keen survival instincts are not important character qualities. They are, but survivors need deeper qualities to retain their humanity. The phenomenal film 28 Days Later follows a man named Jim who wakes up from a coma in an abandoned London hospital. He quickly discovers that a virus called “Rage” has infected the populace, turning them into swiftly moving zombie hordes. He meets up with a machete-wielding survivor named Selena and her friend Mark. The moment Mark becomes infected, Selena kills him and tells Jim she will kill anyone who has been infected “in a heartbeat.”

  But Selena isn’t hardened by what she’s been through to survive the apocalypse. She reveals her compassion when she recognizes Jim’s need to see his parents and helps him fulfill that wish despite the dangers. Although she effectively abandons Jim during a mad dash from an attack, she reclaims herself when she and Jim meet teenage Hannah and her father, Frank. (We see a similar reclamation happening with Michonne in her relationship with Carl in the TV series, The Walking Dead. Connecting with people—especially a young person in this case—is essential to revitalizing her humanity and keeping her from becoming just a “killing machine.”) After the three are picked up by soldiers and taken to a fortified mansion, the soldiers prepare to rape the women. Selena shows compassion to Hannah by giving the teen precious painkillers so she won’t feel the trauma as much. Jim rescues the two women, but not before he’s badly wounded by a soldier’s gunshot.

  While 28 Days Later has at least three alternate endings, the original ending deemed too bleak by test audiences probably shows Selena’s strength at its best. The two women have taken Jim to a hospital for his gunshot wound, but he dies. When Hannah asks her, “What do we do now?” Selena simply responds, “We move.” Given her earlier acts, it’s unlikely that she responds this way because she’s lost her ability to feel. Rather, she’s putting what needs to be done for their survival over her own needs to stop and grieve Jim’s death.

  Whether it’s the apocalypse or more mundane dangers, throwing that punch or putting yourself in harm’s way can undoubtedly be heroic. But for some characters, it’s not always the most difficult action to take. In the TV series Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Buffy throws out witty one-liners and even quarrels with her boyfriends as she subdues the nightly onslaught of newly risen vampires in the local cemetery. Delivering a devastating blow with a wooden stake or swift kick is not that big of a deal for Buffy. She barely breaks a sweat even in major battles, whether engaged in hand-to-hand combat or wielding a bladed weapon. But when she kills her beloved Angel to save the Universe, we see her true strength: her ability to uphold the greater good over her deepest desires.

  This is not true of the other slayer, Faith, who has no moral bearing as she attempts to salve her emotional wounds in all the wrong ways. While she’s very much considered a “badass” female character, her superhuman fighting skills can’t supplement the significant character deficits that lead her to work for the evil Mayor Wilkins and later the notorious law firm Wo
lfram & Hart in the spinoff TV series Angel. It’s not until after she murders two mortals, tortures the Watcher Wesley with a shard of glass, and tries to kill Angel—her former savior—that she feels the weight of her crimes and begins the process of rehabilitation.

  Clarice Starling in The Silence of the Lambs brings both high intelligence and handgun expertise to dangerous situations. In this gruesome serial killer film, Clarice is a young FBI agent-in-training whose superiors use her to get clues from an imprisoned killer named Dr. Hannibal Lecter as to the identity of a new serial killer nicknamed Buffalo Bill. It seems at first that Clarice is everyone’s pawn—especially Lecter’s—as she helps the FBI search for the man who is killing young women by flaying them for their skins.

  But if Clarice hadn’t had the intelligence and moral commitment to find Buffalo Bill, not to mention the mettle to open herself up to Dr. Lecter as he probed her personal life in exchange for vital clues, she would never need to bring her revolver to bear. Because she’s a hero, she does: mastering considerable fear, she ultimately vanquishes Buffalo Bill under incredibly frightening circumstances.

  Some of the strongest female characters in horror have no fighting skills or muscle whatsoever. For who could be a stronger female character in any genre than ten-year-old Ofelia of Pan’s Labyrinth? Ofelia is forced to go live with her pregnant mother at a military outpost in 1944 Spain where resides Ofelia’s psychopathic stepfather, Captain Vidal. Once they arrive, she innocently follows a fairy into a creepy labyrinth and meets a ghastly faun. She then takes on the scary faun’s even scarier challenges to prove she is the reincarnation of a fairy princess. After Ofelia’s mother gives birth and dies, Ofelia sedates Captain Vidal and steals her baby brother at the faun’s command. But during the final challenge when the faun demands she shed her baby brother’s blood, Ofelia defies him—with fatal consequences. Wielding neither blades nor bombs, Ofelia floods the story with immeasurable strength at every turn. That’s as much guts as Buffy ever had, and maybe a thousand times more.

  True heroism is standing up to evil when you don’t have the might to make it right. It’s why we root so hard for characters like Laurie Strode in Halloween, Brigitte Fitzgerald in Ginger Snaps, and Arya Stark in Game of Thrones. Fighting for what’s right is the real meaning of strength. Maybe more authors, filmmakers, and showrunners will eventually understand that and not default to “warrior” when they want to make a woman—or man—strong.

  © 2014 by Maria Alexander.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Maria Alexander is a published author of short stories, a produced screenwriter, a games writer, and an award-winning copywriter. In 2012, her poetry collection—At Louche Ends: Poetry for the Decadent, the Damned and the Absinthe-Minded—was nominated for the Bram Stoker Award. She’s been a student of various sword arts since 2002 and a student of Shinkendo since 2010. In November 2013, her blog post, “Why I Hate (Most) Photos and Drawings of Women with Swords” went viral with mentions in The Mary Sue, Jezebel, and countless martial arts and stage combat forums. Her debut novel, Mr. Wicker, is coming out in September 2014 from Raw Dog Screaming Press. She lives in Los Angeles with two ungrateful cats and a purse named Trog. Need more information? Visit her website at mariaalexander.net.

  Women Destroy Horror! Roundtable Interview: Linda Addison, Kate Jonez, Helen Marshall, and Rena Mason

  Lisa Morton

  Linda Addison, Kate Jonez, Helen Marshall, and Rena Mason are four of the most acclaimed and interesting women working in the horror genre’s small press field. All four produced excellent works in 2013 that were award-nominated: Linda’s Four Elements (co-written with Rain Graves, Charlee Jacob, and Marge Simon) explores the poetic, dark side of fire, water, earth, and air; Kate’s Candy House is a surreal and frequently blackly humorous first novel; Helen’s poetry book The Sex Lives of Monsters followed up her multiple award-winning debut fiction collection Hair Side, Flesh Side (2012); and Rena scored raves for both her debut novel The Evolutionist and her novella East End Girls. Helen and Kate also bring a wealth of publishing experience with them—Helen as an editor for ChiZine Publications, Kate as owner/editor of Omnium Gatherum—and all four have fascinating takes on horror, being female in the genre, and modern life in general.

  Did you enjoy horror books and films as a child? If so, what did your family say?

  Linda Addison: My mother and I (and my eight brothers and sister) used to watch scary movies all the time. We loved them. I read more SF and fantasy as a child.

  Kate Jonez: I loved all sorts of stories as a kid but was especially fond of ghost stories and tales about supernatural creatures. I was surprised then, and still am, by readers who don’t enjoy dark fiction. It’s endlessly fascinating.

  Helen Marshall: I really didn’t enjoy horror books and films as a child—in fact, you could probably say it was the genre to which I had the single greatest aversion throughout most of my life. And I know that sounds off-putting for the start of an interview, but the truth is that I was often very scared as a child, and it persisted for a long time. So while I didn’t have any problem with the idea of horror, I steered clear of it as much as possible. It affected me too strongly, and in a way I didn’t like. I remember, in particular, seeing a cheesy comedy-horror flick called Step-Monster featuring Alan Thicke when I was in grade school. It scared the bejesus out of me despite the fact that it wasn’t scary at all. But as I grew older and began to write more, I found that those things that frightened me most, that produced the greatest emotional effect in me, were prime hunting grounds for story ideas. And so now I find a huge and welcome frisson in reading horror literature; it pushes me out of my comfort zone in a way I really admire.

  Rena Mason: Yes, I did. In kindergarten, the first book I ever loved and read over and over was Where the Wild Things Are . . . My mom wasn’t too keen on it because of the book covers but was too busy to keep a close eye on what I was reading. Then for a while in the 1980s she got into watching horror movies on VHS, and we would have family weekends of one horror video after the other. It was fantastic!

  When you first started publishing in the horror genre, did it seem welcoming? Or intimidating?

  Linda: I found the horror genre very welcoming. I have the double whammy of being an African-American woman and there are so few of us in horror, but everyone was very supportive. Before I published much in horror I went to an HWA Bram Stoker Awards banquet and Tananarive Due had a book on the final ballot and I was beaming with joy.

  Kate: I’ve had several jobs traditionally considered male jobs. I’ve briefly worked in construction, manufacturing, and tech sales. Compared to those boys’ clubs, publishing seems mild. I recommend all women work a year or two in a male-dominated field. There’s a lot to learn. Some of it is incredibly valuable and can help women succeed, and sometimes it’s just good to have insight about why people act the way they do. If I could share just one thing I’ve learned, it would be speak up. If you are working in a male-dominated job (or any job actually), don’t wait for an invitation. Ask, make proposals, ask again, or ask for something different if the answer is no.

  Helen: Before I started publishing fiction, I spent two years or so working as an Assistant Editor and then Managing Editor for ChiZine Publications, a mid-sized press based out of Toronto that specializes in surreal, weird, dark literature. That was where I was first exposed to horror writing on an ongoing basis, and what was remarkable was how welcoming I found the horror writing community in Toronto. Brett Savory and Sandra Kasturi were amazing mentors for me, and through them, I met many other generous writers including Paul Tremblay, John Langan, Gemma Files, David Nickle, Michael Rowe, and Simon Strantzas, to name a few. My first short story collection was commissioned by ChiZine Publications, and it constituted, in my mind, a real leap of faith on the part of Brett Savory and Sandra Kasturi. I had perhaps half of the stories written at that stage, and only one of them had been published. (I had a much more substantial track record in publishing poetry
.) The commission gave me a tremendous amount of freedom to experiment with form and genre, freedom I wouldn’t have necessarily had if I was trying to publish in magazines, which are, on the whole, much more conservative when evaluating new writers. I didn’t have to conform to anyone’s sense of what a horror story should be, and so I didn’t face the same kind of pressure that other new writers face.

  Rena: I’ll admit it was a little intimidating. The conventions I attended were full of positive people that were very welcoming, but when it came time to submit my work, I did feel somewhat intimidated by the mostly male-dominated acquisitions/publishing people. I believe I felt this way primarily because the story I’d submitted was very female-oriented.

  Do you think anyone reading your work would know it was written by a female author? Why? Is that good or bad?

  Linda: Early in my writing career I considered using “L.D. Addison” as my author’s name so no one would assume main characters I wrote were female if it wasn’t obvious in the beginning of the story. I had a discussion with a well-known author (I believe it was Nancy Kress) and she said that if I wrote well enough the character would speak for themselves, so I decided to go forward and use Linda Addison. It was very good advice for me. Since I do use Linda I’m guessing folks know I’m female. (I do have a very deep voice and have been mistaken for a man over the phone with people who don’t know me so many times that I don’t correct who I’m speaking to; then they ask for my name and apologize for using “Sir” in their conversation—ha!) As far as I know that hasn’t been negative; I haven’t received any feedback from anyone about it. I’m happy to represent two minorities and say, “Yes, we can write horror.”