The Women of Hounds of Love (Spoilers Ahead)

In Hounds of Love, Ben Young’s first feature-length film, a murderous couple in the city of Perth, Australia, stalks teenage girls to fulfil their sexual fantasies. The acts are orchestrated by John (Stephen Curry), a sexual predator who is cold, mean and conniving. His character is riveting because Young gives you just enough to wonder about what happened to this man to make him so diabolical, but the women surrounding him are equally compelling.

The film is set in 1987, when women were still coming off the gains from first wave feminism only to be kicked back by conservatism in the Reagan era. Traditional values were revisited and shunned by women who wanted to blaze trails and be the independent people their sisters before them fought for. I’m not sure if Young took any of this into account as he wrote the film, but with this era as a backdrop, there’s an interesting theme of traditional versus the modern woman running through the story.

Keeping second-wave feminism in mind, there are two distinct representations of women in the film. We have Vicki’s mother Maggie (Susie Porter) who is gaining her independence after leaving her husband, and Vicki (Ashleigh Cummings) herself, a young adult pushing the boundaries and also looking for her place in the world without any parental interference. These two characters represent the burgeoning modern woman. Evelyn (Emma Booth), John’s wife and murderous cohort, is the more traditional figure. She does the cooking, cleaning and looks after her man and his conquests, doing her wifely duties in an extreme way.

Cummings as Vicki just before she is abducted.

Maggie is spreading her wings. Newly divorced, she is starting her new life and hopes to maintain her relationship with her daughter. Divorce in the 80’s was no longer taboo, in fact, it was becoming more common at that time due to changes with laws in North America and Australia. As a child of divorce, Vicki is processing her broken family home and experiencing her rebellious teen years. She deals with it in a typical way by defying her mother, seen as the person who destroyed their family because she’s left both Vicki and her father. Vicki attempts to be her own person despite the upheaval, and even has some power over her well-meaning boyfriend as he writes her school assignments for her. Both women are making efforts to create their own identity. Evelyn, on the other hand, finds comfort in her relationship. She is John’s caretaker and literal partner in crime; the nursemaid to their victims and his dutiful wife. There is no defiance here, only the urge to serve and be wanted. The actions of all three have consequences of varying degrees, but Evelyn’s is the most extreme case by living under the façade of a traditional role while she aids and abets the criminal activities of John.

Each woman will affect one another’s lives in the most unsettling of ways. When Vicky rebels against her mother and sneaks out to go to a party, she is lured into captivity by Evelyn and John. She is tough, however, and thinks on her feet, not succumbing completely to the fear of her abduction. As Evelyn cares for her captive, she forces information out of Vicki, and becomes jealous of her when she realized John’s interest in their captive. Evelyn wants to be as defiant and desirable as the teen, and when she fails to stand up to John, wants to break Vicki’s spirit to prove John loves her more.

We find out that Evelyn comes from a history of abuse that John rescued her from, and it’s the only thing she knows. She is angry, isolated and desperate, and needs something to care about since her children from a previous relationship were taken from her, so John gives her a dog. Her dog is a replacement for the lost children and her only tie to maternal feelings. Director Young said he used the dog to create sympathy for Evelyn, and it does indeed do that as it finds a violent end. But what we must remember is that she is part and parcel with John’s evil machinations. Even though she fears him and fears losing him, she knows right from wrong and still decides to participate. It’s this sobering fact that she played a part in the deaths of their victims, and that her washing the bloodied sheets and cleaning up the crime scene is just as heinous as the act itself. She is the woman that will do anything for love.

Evelyn and Maggie are complete opposites. Evelyn represents the perversion of domestic subservience. She does as John wants, takes care of the home, and yearns to be a mother where Maggie refuses this role. Maggie moves into her own house and wants to start fresh, but the resentment felt by her husband when their daughter goes missing is a fresh wound that he picks at, blaming her for their child’s disappearance and shaming her for her independence. Maggie shows inner strength in this situation as she refuses his patronizing help, determined to find her daughter; in fact, Maggie ignores the patronizing police officers as well and carries on with the search led by her instincts.

Where Maggie stands up to her husband, John taunts Evelyn about losing her children and she takes it. Her traditional mindset in this setting is a distortion of the abuses women fight against. Top it off with John’s monstrous and manipulative patriarchal power, and you have an extreme microcosm of what traditional norms do to women who reject them. Maggie’s punishment for leaving the nuclear home is her daughter’s rape and torture.  At one point Evelyn tells Vicki she should have listened to her mother and stayed home after Vicki tells her the truth about her dog’s role and that John is just using her. Evelyn also judges Maggie even though she doesn’t know her, sneering at the broken marriage; mocking Maggie’s independence perhaps because Evelyn too has tried to leave but failed on her own. She doesn’t want to focus on the wrongs she has done to the young women they have captured, instead emboldened by falling back into John’s favour, she taunts and blames Vicki for the crimes committed against her.  It’s as if Evelyn and John feel justified in their actions because these independent women didn’t toe the line and stick with traditional roles.

Evelyn and John lord over the girls like a twisted traditional family. They punish those coming up in the new world, dominating girls and putting them in their place. They don’t put them in a shed or a dark, dank basement, instead their victims are placed in a very regular bedroom, held down with chains. It shows their arrogance and how close evil lies in seemingly safe environments. We never get to know John’s backstory or internal process, but it seems that from the relationship he has with other men, namely his drug dealer, he is the low man on the totem pole and his displeasure manifests in obsessive behaviour and manipulating, dominating, or killing women.

*************************Spoiler Alert*******************************************************

There is only so much unrealistic traditional values can affect its environment and only so far it can go with the fantasy that everyone will accept their roles. The same goes for John and Evelyn. The murderous couple’s vision of marital bliss and conservative appearance is skewed by their fervour for sex, blood and torture and they aren’t as perfect as they see themselves. Even though John calls Evelyn his “queen” and he seems to love her in a way, neighbours complaining about their toxic relationship reveals that imperfection. Eventually there has to be a breaking point and Evelyn will reach it because of her insecurities surrounding her desirability. With this crack in the façade, it’s only a matter of time before things start to crumble.

Maggie finds the neighbourhood where Vicki is being held and frantically shouts her name in the street. In this moment, Evelyn relates to Maggie’s loss as a mother and must make a decision. Egged on by Vicki’s goading, she chooses to kill John because he has denied her of her children as well. In this moment, she finally stands up to him, and becomes independent like Maggie and Vicki. Her fate is sealed but she is now free of a domineering male figure; freeing herself, and the other women around her from the torture. She is by no means a heroine, but at the same time becomes a liberator of sorts for Vicki and herself.   Her last act is cold comfort for redemption, but at least closes the circle of evil she has perpetuated.

There is so much to say about male and female relationships, women’s power and accountability in such a brutal way in this film. I have only scratched the surface, but in a nutshell, Hounds of Love is not only a terrifying psychological thriller, but an in depth look at how women who step out of prescribed roles overcome criticism, sexism and brutality with inner strength.

*Read my review of the film on Cinema Axis here.

[Previously published on Rosemary’s Pixie]

Book Review: The 1990’s Teen Horror Cycle: Final Girls and a New Hollywood Formula

The 90s were a big shiny blur for me. I was a coltish 21 in 1991 and then suddenly I was 30, missing out on being a teen during that decade, but still young enough to consume the teen entertainment up for grabs. During that big shiny blur was a new kind of horror, one that was supposed to speak to the younger generation; a generation who would start trends that changed how we thought about ourselves and the way we saw the world. Sound like a lot to glean from a bunch of glossy studio films made to attract a demographic of magpie youth? Well not so, because in Alexandra West’s latest book The 1990s Teen Horror Cycle: Final Girls and a New Hollywood Formula, she gives meaning to these seemingly shallow films starring the hottest heartthrobs of the time.

When she launched her book, West mentioned how her taste in film was questioned when she professed her undying support of 90s horror, so it’s nice to see her get a chance to set those side-eyes straight. Sure, there’s a superficiality to films like I Know What You Did Last Summer, Idle Hands, and The Crush at first glance since the stars were plucked from hit TV shows and films for marketability, and they may not have addressed issues in an obvious way, but they earmarked a time when things were changing socially and politically. Each chapter deals with films covering subjects like school life, sexuality, and the undead; and with each film she expertly reveals underlying themes, meanings and societal implications through sociological references and, surprisingly, Greek mythology. These themes were so ingrained I could feel the little lightbulb over my head pinging over and over as I read her arguments that made sense of overlooked cinematic moments.

Sarah Michelle Gellar, Ryan Phillippe and Jennifer Love Hewitt of I Know What You Did Last Summer

Entertainment is a reflection of our society, and West is very thorough in her recounting the climate of the 90s, describing a shift from the Regan era to George H. W. Bush, Third Wave feminism, the trauma of mass school shootings, and media’s new role in what Hollywood thought teens valued. They were suddenly put under a microscope through these films, exposing real issues like bullying, classism, and sexual politics. Although a lot of the subject matter in teen horrors and thrillers of the 90s seem to rehash the slashers of the 70s and 80s, West points out that these characters are smarter and more self-aware; resilient during traumatic events where they exhibit an evolved toughness not seen in the final girls of the past. In fact, for me, she puts well-known final girl theories detailed in Carol Clover’s classic book Men, Women and Chainsaws: Gender in the Modern Horror Film into better context, modernizing the final girl for the 90s.

Neve Campbell as the ultimate 90s final girl, Sidney.

These films aren’t without flaws however, and West makes sure to point out lack of representation and tokenism with characters of color like Jada Pinkett’s Maureen in Scream 2 and Rachel True’s Rochelle in The Craft (with a whole chapter dedicated to the deeper themes in the 1996 teen witch hit). I was pleased to see her write about the backlash against tokenism and “Hollywood’s cultural whitewashing” with the parody film Scary Movie and its sequels. Here, she describes how black comedy powerhouses The Wayans Brothers took horror tropes and turned them on their ear by blatantly pointing out sexual and cultural stereotypes and reclaiming them as their own. She also delves into the history of the sequel machine, mostly fueled by dollar signs when the first films took off (a reflection of the consumerism during that decade), but some were continuations of beloved characters, mythologies and universes. The most well-known example is the Scream franchise and the history of its tongue in cheek but intelligent self-reflective commentary on horror tropes. Who knew a film that took a clever jab at the horror game would historically break the rules of Hollywood itself?

The cast of Scary Movie.

The surge of teen and young adult horrors coming out now like Happy Death Day, Truth or Dare, and Wish Upon can be looked at with a more appreciative and critical eye once you’ve read Alexandra West’s book on The 1990s Teen Horror Cycle. It’s a fantastic follow-up to her book Films of the New French Extremity: Visceral Horror and National Identity, and even though there’s a lot of information, it’s concise and extremely easy to digest. For those of you who already love 90s teen horror, it’s pure validation, and for those of you who missed out being a teen during the 90s, it will give you nice insight on something that isn’t as frivolous as you may think.

Do yourself a favour and get The 1990s Teen Horror Cycle: Final Girls and a New Hollywood Formula here to celebrate Women in Horror Month!