How to Build a Better Monster

The Pleasures in Looking: Why the Horror Film Satisfies

I recently read Laura Mulvey’s landmark essay “Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema.” In the article, Mulvey discusses “the pleasure of looking” and its role in defining film conventions.

According to Mulvey, film is inextricably linked to voyeurism. Film offers a number of viewing pleasures, with the most obvious being scopophilia (pleasure in looking). An audience receives pleasure in the simple act of looking at something. However, this pleasure in looking can extend to other outlets. For example, while looking, it is not unusual that one thing or subject becomes the viewer’s primary interest or point of focus. Freud identified this tendency in his Three Essays on Sexuality, and explained that a person “controls” another person by subjecting him or her to a powerful gaze. A person becomes an object that is capable of being controlled and manipulated within a person’s gaze. Although abusing this gaze is usually kept in check by one’s ego, it can also develop into voyeurism.

Regardless of whether the pleasure of the gaze turns into an extreme sexual fixation, it will always remain pleasurable. Aside from the enjoyment of looking, a person begins to enjoy the feeling of power they experience in looking at something and holding it within his or her own gaze. Cinema realizes the joy to be felt in looking at something, but it commonly emphasizes the male gaze.

Mulvey does not offer an explicit reason for why the male gaze is dominant other than that our world is one of “sexual imbalance,” and that the pleasure in looking has always been assigned “active/male and passive/female.” In keeping this tradition, women in film are often dressed and presented in a way that is appealing to the male eye. This is evident in all types of film. Leading female actresses are usually attractive, and with the enhancement of makeup, wardrobe, and lighting, their best assets are presented to the camera. On the large screen, they are typically shown in close shots which might emphasize an actress’s face, or perhaps her upper torso, representing her in parts rather than as a whole person. Thus, woman becomes an object; the camera focuses on parts of her body that will be deemed more appealing to the eye. (If you’re having a hard time accepting this, just turn on your TV. I guarantee you’ll catch a commercial for soda that features a woman raising a bottle to her lips, or maybe you’ll flip to MTV and glimpse the newest rap video, where the camera will undoubtedly zoom in on a woman’s buttocks, thighs, or cleavage.)

I’ve mentioned before that I was initially interested in studying how women are portrayed in horror film because I noticed that female characters in horror films often wore sexy clothing or were depicted in various stages of undress. Even if a woman is running for her life from a serial killer, there will likely be some instance written into the script that allows us a glimpse at her body. Perhaps she tears her shirt on a tree as she runs through the forest. Or consider Tremors, when one of the giant worm-like monsters grabs a woman by her ankle, forcing the woman to writhe out of her pants to escape.

This emphasis on the female body is not restricted to horror films, however. But, I think the horror film remains such a compelling genre because it satisfies our need to look on so many levels. In many ways, horror film is the ultimate spectacle for visual consumption.

A large component of the genre is the wonderment produced by special effects. The genre has long been celebrated for how it portrays the fantastic, whether a ghost, monster, or zombie, through special effects makeup, costuming, mechanical skill, and computer animation. Some have criticized the horror film for relying too much on its visuals. However, I’d argue that special effects just add to the horror film experience. Many people can watch a low-budget horror movie or an “outdated” horror film and embrace it, regardless of the poor makeup or lacking effects. It’s not uncommon to hear that something in the film was “cheesy” or appeared unbelievable; but because the story is ultimately at the heart of the genre, we can overlook these visual flaws. Even if the visual effects are laughable, they satisfy our need to look.

When the effects are good, however, our viewing experience has reached its potential. Good horror films often have one striking visual moment. Many of us have certain images burned into our minds. Regan spitting green puke, Carrie drenched in pig’s blood, and the infamous shower scene in Psycho all come to mind.

And aside from taking pleasure in sensational imagery, we also receive pleasure from looking at images of abjection. I’ve come to embrace Creed’s application of Kristeva’s theory of abjection, and I truly do believe that we are preoccupied with our bodily wastes. We may feign disinterest or disgust, but deep down, we’re fascinated and horrified that our bodies have produced these things that are both “me and not me.”

Hence the abundance of confrontational images of blood, feces, pus, vomit, and rotting flesh. These bodily emissions challenge our desire to maintain clean, pure bodies. But subconsciously, we seek the opportunity to free ourselves from how our culture conditions us to act. If we “act out,” we risk being attacked in a society that values cleanliness of the self. However, horror film allows us to act out in a socially acceptable way. On screen, we can witness those gross bodily wastes in a way that has been deemed more tolerable. And thus, by watching, we are purged of our anxieties of how we are to act in order to maintain a pure self. The horror film is a cathartic way to deal with these fears and fascinations with these “things” that are both part of and not part of our bodies.

Posted by Kate Cielinski at November 15, 2004 7:02 PM