Get. Out. Of. My. Head.
It’s been three days since I saw deadgirl, the thriller about a zombie-cum-sex slave, and I am still reeling. For a self-professed horror cynic, the film was more than a simple grade A, but also something of a breakthrough that for me confirmed that legitimacy of an entire genre.
As the movie wastes no time bringing you straight into the story, neither will I. deadgirl begins with two lovelorn high school burnouts, Rickie (Shiloh Fernandez) and J.T. (Noah Segan) cutting class to chug beer in the only place they can think of where nobody will catch them: an abandoned insane asylum (probably not the best of decisions). While wandering around, they stumble on what appears to be a somewhat dead, somewhat alive, very naked woman (Jenny Spain) bound up in a basement that obviously hasn’t been visited by another soul in quite some time. Rickie, being the stricter moralist of the two, initially wants to call the police, but he is talked out of it by J.T. who, though he claims he is worried about legal repercussions, we soon find has plans of his own for whoever (or whatever) it is they have found.
It doesn’t take a genius to guess at what might be on a post-pubescent high school boy’s mind. J.T. convinces Rickie to return to the scene, where he shows him that he has discovered that no matter what is done to the deadgirl (the objectifying name by which they refer to her), she cannot, in the literal sense, die. Though neither boy really knows what to make of it, J.T. has at least figured out what to do with her. “I know what I’m thinkin’ about,” he says, “I’m thinkin’ about wet pussy.” There you have it. The deadgirl becomes J.T.’s sex slave, functioning literally as just an orifice through which the high schooler can work out his adolescent urgings.
Just what the deadgirl is – A zombie? An immortal? – is never explained. Though she has the Undead’s bitey sensibilities (and causes similar side effects), she doesn’t appear to have any superhuman strength or speed. Nor, like a zombie, can she be killed by simple head trauma, or any way for that matter. Ms. Spain’s remarkable performance—which for most of the movie can only consist of hollow, hopeless, facial expressions—shows that she appears to see, feel, and understand what is being inflicted on her body, but because she is so thoroughly bound, she lacks any recourse. There is also a seething danger in her eyes that seems to tell you that if and when she does escape, there will be a bloody revenge.
Throughout the movie, Rickie must wrestle with his conscience—though his instinct is to put an end to the whole ordeal, his own sexual curiosity (recently aggravated by rejection from his lifelong crush) urges him to take part. J.T., on the other hand, has no moral qualms whatsoever, and sinks deeper and deeper into sexual perversion with the deadgirl – perhaps most graphically indicated with a suggestion of sex through a bullet hole he has shot into her torso. He even brings his stoner friend Wheeler (Eric Podnar) in on the secret, and it isn’t long before others start to find out. With an irreparable rift growing between himself and J.T., Rickie realizes that he can no longer stay quiet and accept what is happening in the basement of the asylum. But J.T. will not give up his prized possession so easily. He begins to think that he has developed a sort of bond with the deadgirl, and even his best friend is expendable to keep the unbridled sex romp going. If Rickie wants to free the deadgirl (a risky act with unclear consequences) he will have to go through J.T. to do it.
Yes. I know it’s a looooot of plot explanation for a movie review (and there’s a lot more that happens, but I couldn’t in good conscience spoil any more of it!) but that should be considered a testament to the film’s complexity and depth. My general problem with most horror movies is that the story is secondary to the scare tactics used—it doesn’t really matter what the significance of the zombie scourge is, just that we are thrilled enough to want to see it to its conclusion. This is what separates deadgirl from the mundane bulk of the horror genre. It cannot be strictly called a horror film or a thriller, where fright is induced for its own sake and thematic elements are secondary to the fear factor. Rather, it is a film where themes are conveyed and bolstered by the use of frightening elements. Form is matched to function.
Beware. Though the gore level is only minor, deadgirl is definitely not for the feint of heart. Directors Marcel Sarmiento and Gadi Harel keep you on the edge of your seat in almost every scene, building tension not through the use of sudden loud screeches and impromptu gruesome ends, but by ratcheting up the danger and significance behind the moral choices made by the characters. In one of the most intense scenes I’ve ever witnessed—one that had me cowering in a corner of the room as I watched it—involved a character attempting to have the deadgirl perform oral sex on him. Though I’m a general proponent of falatio, I’ve never wanted so badly for someone to just go home and whack off instead.
But that’s the genius of how deadgirl functions. It elevates questions of sexual assault and rape to the level of life and death. The jarring images presented make it impossible to side with anyone but the victim, which is actually remarkable considering that the victim is a zombie.
*On a side note: I just read an article by Kurt Vonnegut in which he pondered if there are any fates worse than death itself. If he’d have known that being an eternal zombie sex slave was an option, he’d have probably mentioned it.
The movie’s politics are fascinating, rejecting any ideas about the wholesome innocence of high school boys’ puppy love, and equating their obsession with girls to that of a serial rapist. Those two best friends who start to fight when they both fall in love with the same girl? They’re not doing it because they want to make her happy, but because they want her to give her body to only their own self. While I generally frown upon movies, books, poems, and songs that have lower-case titles (most of which do it as a way of seeming more profound), this is a case where it actually has a purpose: the deadgirl is not a person, but an object. And it can’t be denied that this is how many a young boy looks at his first love, especially if that love is unrequited.
Though I believe its general themes are eye-opening and morally correct, deadgirl also has several problematic elements that are difficult to get past (and probably have something to do with why it was not given a larger release). Intentionally objectifying a woman will never be and should never be simple, and though I think the movie clearly does it as a way of highlighting larger women’s issues, for many it will be difficult to swallow. As will the bludgeoning image of what amounts to an on-camera rape, which is hideously painful to watch. The film also upholds an antiquated view of women as the weaker sex, completely at men’s mercy and only able to free themselves with their assistance.
But it is nearly impossible to take on such sensitive issues without falling into a few traps as well. There is a definite difference between having problematic elements pop up in a movie that dives into precarious but important subject matter, versus in a popcorn flick where attractive and scantily-clad women serve no purpose but to be the first to die. deadgirl may be a horror movie, but it is just as deep as any of the Best Picture nominees of this year.
And I’ll guarantee that it will make you think differently about teenage sexual attraction. How could you not after spending a night or two seeing Ms.
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