The Monstrous-Feminine: Film, Feminism, Psychoanalysis review: A subversive “gaze” on horror cinema, but is it really feminist?

Horror films have long been a symbolic battlefield of power between men and women. Women at large are portrayed as helpless victims running from the chase of “male monsters”, as such in Nightmare on Elm Street (dir. Wes Craven, 1984) and Friday the 13th (dir. Marcus Nispel, 2009). However, in The Monstrous Feminine: Film, Feminism, Psychoanalysis, Barbara Creed poses a rather fresh perspective barely touched upon by critics through which she analyzes the faces of “female monsters” in horror films. Creed, an astute feminist film scholar and horror critic, bases her analysis of each monstrous-feminine archetype on Kristeva’s abjection theory as well as Freud’s psychoanalytic theory. According to Kristeva, women are constituted as “abject” or “marginalized” because of their biological differences to men. This difference forms an entrenched polarization between man/woman or human/non-human, which lays the groundwork of women's abjection in horror cinema. In elaborating the monstrous-feminine tropes, Creed does not simply take on stereotypical opinions, but also provides contemplations that demonstrate her intricate observation of the topic.  

In the first half of the book, Creed presents an in-depth analysis of female’s sexuality and “mothering nature” which play into the construction of their monstrosity in horror classics. On the basis of Kristeva’s abjection theory, Creed classifies these monstrous-feminines as the archaic mother, possessed monster, monstrous womb, woman as vampire, and witch. In “monstrous-feminine as archaic mother” and “monstrous womb”, Creed mentions how women’s fertile power is constituted as “abject”, hence subordinating women to the to masculine “symbolic law”. Come to think of it; women do hold the “magical power” of independent procreation. Yet, as presented in Alien (1979) and Poltergeist (1982), the uterus is portrayed as an “abyss”. Female genitalia, including vagina and the womb, is depicted as a “black hole” which obliterates everything that enters it. With a meticulous description of the plot and analysis of the mise-en-scene, Creed shrewdly illuminates how this awful presentation of women's organs is a projection of men’s fear of maternal power. 

The extensive discussion on how menstruation/blood constructs women as the “abject” is perhaps the most intriguing part of the book. Creed argues that religion as a powerful institution plays a role in marginalizing women as “abject”. Religions have treated women's blood–either from childbirth or menstruation–as “impure”. In Abrahamic religions such as Christianity, Judaism, and Islam, women are not allowed to enter church or holy mosques during their period. The “menstruation taboo” or fear towards menstruation is clearly depicted in The Exorcist (1973) and Carrie (1976). While The Exorcist’s Regan (Linda Blair) becomes a “possessed monster”, Carrie (Sissy Spacek) transforms into a “witch” with telekinetic power upon reaching menarche. Menarche, or the first period, is depicted as a turning point where women’s sexual power intensifies, transforming them into evil or supernatural beings that threaten the stability of the “pure”. Although Creed’s analysis and film choice is of a Eurocentric-perspective, readers from Africa or Indonesia may still resonate strongly to this chapter, since the “menstruation myth” created by cultural and religious beliefs is pervasive in those countries. Even in regions like India, menstruation is perceived as cursed and pathologized. Creed’s sharp points complemented with her eloquent writing creates an immersive reading experience. Considering how these films are extremely grotesque, even those who refuse to watch the film can experience the horror yet sympathize with how these poor, innocent female monsters are portrayed. 

In the second half of the book, Creed rebuts Freud’s controversial idea of “the castrated woman”. She elucidates that women are frightening not because of her lack of phallus, but because they are castrating. To corroborate her stance, she provides examples encompassing the myth of Medusa’s head, “the femme castratrice” and “the castrating mother”. Despite her solid argument, this chapter feels rather tedious. Creed dedicates a whole chapter explaining how women are castrating by critically re-analyzing Freud’s case study: “Little Hans”. Not only is this chapter complex for those unfamiliar with Freud’s psychoanalytic theory, but it is also superfluous merely to prove that women are men’s dominant because her vagina threatens to castrate. Here, Creed creates an oversimplified battle between the phallic and vagina dentata, which symbolize men and women. I wonder why who castrates and is castrated is important in her feminist advocacy. Moreover, her hyper-fixation on the phallus/vagina conflict leads ehr to disregard the powerful representation of “phallic” women like Uma Thurman in Kill Bill (dir. Quentin Tarantino, 2003). Instead of celebrating women’s victory in thriller/horror, she focuses on how the weapon resembles the “phallus”‒a symbol of masculinity. When in fact, masculine traits are not exclusive to men–a woman can also be masculine. Thus it begs the question: does the myth of “toothed vagina”, then, empowers or denigrates women? Eventually, women are disadvantaged because on one hand, they are deemed “imperfect” due to their lack of phallus, but on the other, “threatening” because of their abysmal sexual organ. 

Although Creed has provided substantial analysis of “female” archetypes, she fails to include other sexual identities under the umbrella term “women”, namely transwomen. Transwomen have been studied by psychiatrists since 1965, signifying their existence even before the publication of this book. How could trans women, who are biologically incapable of child-birth and menstruation, be involved in the monstrous-feminine discussion? Are they castrated or castrating? Are they also subject to abjection? Besides, Creed laments how the notion of “castrating” woman has been confused with “phallic” woman. Then what about trans women, who in actuality possess a phallus? Are they a threat, or conversely, subordinate to men? Creed condemns the “essentialist” depiction of victimized females as a projection of patriarchy, yet she does the same by failing to draw the line between sex and gender. She is too reliant on the biological definition of “men” and “women”, without realizing that the battle of genders has been provoked by social constructs. Man and woman, masculine and feminine are merely abstract ideas created to polarize and form a power dynamic between both parties. Thus, whether her “castrating vagina dentata” argument is still valid in the era of diversity where the trans community is placed on the forefront of discourse remains unclear. 

Flaws aside, The Monstrous-Feminine is a must read for horror enthusiasts as it opens a new vein of discussion on female monsters archetypes in horror movies. Furthermore, Creed’s subversive reading on Freud’s psychoanalytic theory has greatly contributed to the feminist scholarship–though those who do not fancy Freud may be tired out by the recurring mention of Freud’s castration and oedipus theory. Another good point she makes is that despite the active characteristics of the monstrous-feminine, these representations are not necessarily “feminist”. This prompts us to ask: what is the “correct” or “proper” representation of women in horror cinema, then? Creed has not proposed possible representations or interpretations of these portrayals in the future–where we depart from the polarized notion of the castrating and castrated, moving on to a more fluid definition of women and gender. All in all, Creed’s insightful analysis of the monstrous-feminine and efforts in defying the patriarchal notion of castrated/passive women are worth appreciating, but there is still room for a more inclusive reading–especially for the queer community–in contemporary feminist academia and cinema.