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theonceoverthinker · 3 years

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I wish I could be happy, but I’m not

(I made a thread of this on Twitter this morning, but I’m going to elaborate on it here because as you’ll see in a different sense on this post, character limits are BS)

So I'm not gonna lie, I think the line about Clover that many in my neck of the fandom are getting excited over isn't the loving acknowledgment of how Qrow felt about Clover that many seem to think it is.

Follow me on this one:

Is it good that Clover was finally explicitly brought up? Yes.

Did they do it in a terrible way? YUP, and I'll explain how in just a moment.

Am I surprised? Less than I ever wanted to be.

Actually, before I begin, because I KNOW people are gonna come after me for this post one way or another, I just want to ask those people if they think I LIKE being this negative? Do they think I LIKE being so cynical towards a show that I used to have so much fun with, a show that I was starting to trust? Don’t you think I want to be excited about Volume 8 with everyone else, and that prior to Volume 7, I wasn’t having the time of my life thinking about and enthusiastically waiting for the new episodes.

No, believe me, I’d be thrilled to enjoy this new volume with everyone else, but after the waking nightmare that was 7X12 (An episode that keeps getting worse and worse the more you look at it, as if an evil version of a Where’s Waldo artbook), CRWBY made it pretty apparent to not trust them as far as I can throw them, to guard my heart, and to temper any positive expectations I have for this show because they can and will likely let me down.

Full disclosure: I’m not watching the volume itself in the traditional sense: I’m having the context of the scenes explained to me by a wonderful friend, and seeing and reading the dialogue and facial expressions of the scenes through gifs, pictures, and the like on various Twitter and Tumblr blogs. That having been said, I take confidence that I am getting an accurate and complete understanding of the Qrow scenes.

Okay, let’s go...under the cut because this got LONG!

The line that starts with "The thing that really stings..." is the line in question, just in case there was any doubt since Qrow speaks a fair bit in this episode (Yes, I’ve read through the full line, but this post is already gonna be long enough without transcribing the whole thing, here it is if you haven’t checked it out yet). It comes up right after Qrow talks about Clover's death.

“The thing that really stings” is a crucial opening line. It implies that on a list of important matters pertaining to the given topic being touched upon, what he’s about to state is the most important of them.

And what does he go on to talk about after that opener?

Semblances. Just semblances, or rather, just his semblance.

Qrow talks about how he was finally entertaining the notion that there was somebody he could be around without having to worry about his semblance complicating things, but that he now believes that possibility was nothing but a childish dream.

This line (which I HOPE is just accidentally clunky because I DO want the Staff Theory to be true so we can start to recover from all this BS in a way that lets me keep enjoying this series) is a lot more harmful to the Fair Game relationship than anyone in the Clover and Fair Game fandom seems to think it is. I genuinely don't want to rain on anyone's parade because I know a large part of my fandom is pretty excited about it, but I can't leave this alone.

I'll be frank: This line implies that Clover's death on it's own (The act of the character of Clover dying, his entire being, personality and all) isn't as important to Qrow as what that death symbolizes. All it does is just talk about how Clover meant he could be around someone and not have his semblance mess things up.

It doesn't discuss the bond they formed over their time in Atlas together. It doesn't discuss how Clover was someone who was addressing his self-loathing and absence of a team or how they cared about each other. These things would imply that Clover meant something to him as a person outside of his semblance.

Now did the paragraph need to go into detail about or even discuss Clover and Qrow’s bond? Not necessarily, but with a line starting with "what really stings" that only on to talk about Clover as he relates to his semblance undercuts what made Clover's character so beloved in the first place.

Clover fans didn't fall in love with Clover because of his semblance. It was an interesting aspect of his character, sure, but it wasn’t the only one by a long shot.

We fell in love with Clover's unique personality, how he was cocky without the pompousness or bullying that tends to come with that cockiness, as well as his emotional softness and how it contrasted with our expectations at every turn, even extending to his support-suiting weapon.

We fell in love with how Clover, even dealing with people he was technically sort of opposed to like Robyn Hill, he made every effort to be diplomatic, careful towards her election, and sincere.

We fell in love with how Clover, unlike the rest of his team, was the notable exception to the rule of the Ace Ops not being friends with their teammates.

We fell in love with the many, many interesting visual aspects of his character design, both individually as well as how closely they mirrored Qrow’s.

We fell in love with the concern he had for Qrow, someone who Qrow was finally on an equal playing field with and could grow to trust as well as willingly and happily team up with.

We fell in love with Clover’s persistence in getting close to him and having Qrow come to a place where he could acknowledge his own worth.

So understand that this line says that the thing about Clover that left the biggest impression on Qrow (And by extension in terms of the show’s meta narrative, the audience) was not that character that we cared for because of who he was, but instead that Qrow cares more about how Clover benefitted him personally on a strictly utilitarian level than the actual connection he and Clover shared as people.

That sentiment does an incredible disservice to Clover's character. Despite what those who defend 7X12 felt, Clover was a character with dimension (And by no means was an Adam, just to stop that garbage comparison in its tracks before it comes up again). What that line does is callously strips away that dimension to make Clover almost something closer to a one-note manic pixie dream boy, and only for the purposes of his semblance, at that.

That’s not good writing, and it shouldn’t be as revered as it presently is (I know the episode’s only a few hours old at the time of writing this, but this seems to be the line’s perception by the Clover and Fair Game fandoms).

More than anything -- more than the possibility of Jailbirds becoming canon, or the lack of connecting Clover and the staff this volume -- this sentiment that Clover’s only worth came from his semblance said by Qrow himself (The character who spent a lot of time bonding with him) makes me worried about whether or not we will actually get a Clover revival.

Again, I don't want to ruin anyone's fun (Though I know I risk it just by making this and will probably be subject to all manner of online torment as a result because that’s just the way things go around here), but I think we Clover fans need to acknowledge the dangerous wording of this line and temper our expectations accordingly.

Today's Clovember theme is 'wish.' I'm not gonna stop wishing for Clover's return. I'm not gonna stop hoping for Clover's return, either.

However, I don't want another 7X12 to happen to myself or the various others in the fandom that I’ve grown to care about this past year again. I can’t ignore a bad sign when it’s staring me in the face, leaving such a foul taste in my mouth in the way that this is. Fair Game Buddies and Clover fans alike, please just be careful. I love you all.

#clover ebi #rwby spoilers #clover deserved better #fair game #qrow branwen

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mochuelovelli · 4 years

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Since you've opened the door for more ideas on the fix it au, let me first ask you about how Della's relationship with Goldie would come into play and in which episode? How does it go in it?

!!!

Im so glad you asked! Okay so how I see it is that Goldie had been part of the twins' lives ever since they moved in officially with Scrooge, in fact she has even interacted with Fethry and Gladstone on multiple occasions (seeking out Gladstone for his luck at first before realizing it doesn't bleed over to passerbys like she hoped). Donald had been mistrustful of Goldie since he met her, though he was mistrustful of pretty much everyone but Della gravitated towards her.

In my mind (and in this AU), Della is shown more explicitly to be like Louie in that she often did seek out short cuts to adventure for the sake of glory (though the riches were also a nice bonus). While Della may be a good woodchuck, she isn't necessarily "Smarter than the Smarties" like Huey but what she is good at is getting herself and her family out of trouble. While the comics aren't all completely canon they are inspired by the characters. In Della's case she is often shown there as well as in the show to consistently figure out an idea to "scheme" if you will, to solve their problems.

This would be mostly expressed during the "Happy Birthday Doofus Drake" episode as well as "Glomtales" and of course the "Moonvasion" two parter.

Specifically in HBDD, throughout the episode Goldie would hint at having schemed someone like Louie before. For instance in that scene where Louie tries to guilt trip Goldie into mentoring him and Goldie asks what kind of "crying act" Louie was aiming for she might say something along the lines of "You should've known who you were dealing with, I've been aquatinted with your type for as long as you've been alive - erm well, however old that is what are you 11 now?" Maybe a little later Louie asks how she knows him so well, "Did you have a school for schemers or something? What's with all the weirdly specific comments?"

"You think I have patience for a whole school worth of wannabe tricksters? Please, I could hardly handle one." "Did your partnership with him also start by infiltrating a rich kid's party?" "No. Pretty sure she stowed away on my plane to find some kind of mythical Money Tree(or an artifact idk yet)."

Throughout the episode Goldie also refers to Louie as "Sharpie Junior" or "Lil/Mini Sharpie". She also says stuff like "Stop pulling that face kid, you're making me nostalgic." Once Louie returns back and laments about Goldie, this scene might stay the same or substitute Della for Scrooge where she would confess to her relationship with Goldie. Alternatively Scrooge could also reveal that Della was the first "Sharpie" and explain that his mother also got tricked by Goldie on their infamous first mission.

In "Glomtales", Della will also hint at her past as Goldie's first unofficial apprentice during her recorded message. She would also have a more in-depth talk with Louie instead of the more vague "I'll accept you as you are even if I don't understand it." I want her to relate to him, hint at or explicitly state her insecurities as a call back to the first episode of Season 2 where Louie doesn't think he belongs in his family. It might also make it a bit sadder for Della to express in her video message that instead of stating his schemes are hurting the family she tells him "Look, I know what it's like to want to prove yourself. But this isn't the right way I..." She will stop, still not explaining her feelings "perfectly" and implying that she wants to say more but not on video, and finish by saying "This is for your own good, okay? We'll be back soon and erm, if you finish these video logs and not ignore them I'll bring you a souvenir. I'll check if you do too, so don't lie to me Mister!"

Maybe towards the end of Glomtales she adds "I don't want you to be like me, Louie, I want you to be better. So far, you are, I know you're good Louie" Of course Louie "steals" Scrooges company which means the ending of Glomtales might be played more dramatically in an effort not to undercut Della's comment. Scrooge might also echo Della's sentiment in "The Richest Duck in the World" just for more sadness.

Other than that, she would definitely mention it more explicitly in S3 once Goldie returns. As far as fanfiction goes, Goldie and Della's relationship would be flushed out more than just a quick flashback and a couple lines. I headcanon that Gladstone got his habit of nicknaming people from Goldie. Her nicknames for the cousins were "Sharpie" for Della, "Sunshine" for Donald, "Shrimpy" for Fethry (bc he was very small when she first met him, also he rambled about shrimp) and "Clover" for Gladstone

#bruh this was so long im sorry ahhaha #thank u for the ask!#ducktales au #ducktales 17 #ducktales headcanons #ducktales 2017 #ducktales #ducktales fix it au #fix it au #della duck #goldie o'gilt #dt17 #louie duck #sam says shit

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marigoldladybug · 4 years

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OKAY SO RANT TIME

Tbh this feels like JK Rowling all over again. I had been a huge fan of HP and I used to look up to her. I mean as an aspiring author, she was the ideal, she's richer than the queen ffs. But then as I grew up I read more and more stuff about her and I lost faith, I found out that she was transphobic, a terf, and that it went further than that. Her allegories and writing were nonsensical and offensive. And that realization HURT. I felt betrayed and disregarded as a member of the lgbt+ community. Now I feel like that's happening again with RWBY. I've been a fan of this show for SO LONG it's made an immense impact on my life. I've been a fan since the beginning, but now as I read more and more, I become more and more disappointed. The way they've handled Fairgame is just... insulting. As a writer I understand that sometimes you have to kill off a character. Shocking I know.

HOWEVER EVERY CHARACTER DEATH HAS TO BE HANDLED WITH CARE. Even if Clover wasn't HEAVILY implied to be gay and have an interest in Qrow and he was as unimportant as CRWB wants us to think, his death has to be handled with care. In order to make a death matter, you have to make the audience care. However in making them care you have to pay attention to the promises you have made.

The whole reason that this is such a big deal is because of some key mistakes that could have been easily avoided.

The crew encouraged the ship outside of the show and had several instances of seeming to ship the characters.

Don't actually write the characters with flirty interactions. They deny this over and over, but they did. They know how to write characters. They've had SEVEN volumes to figure it out. They could have easily avoided that. Sure people probably would still have shipped them, but they would at least have some defense instead of "oh we didn't intend that" yes you did don't lie. That's just insulting.

Don't tailor the character design to mirror Qrow's. Several things about Clover's character design mirror Qrow. The color scheme that matches Qrow's aura, the complementary eye colors, etc. Color has always been extremely important in RWBY and they can't just deny that they didn't know what they were doing.

Speaking of color, the background of Clover's death scene being a Bi pride flag was just uncalled for and just plain insulting.

Also the parallels between Fairgame, Renora and Bumblb. The truck scene being framed very similarly, the expressions, the body language and the tone of voice. All screamed romance.

The "lucky you" callback.

The similarities of style in these two frames (sorry)

This is the first time we've ever seen Qrow cry.

The unnecessary brutality of Clover's death. This is literally the most gruesome scene in RWBY so far, and Yang had her arm cut off.

The unapologetic and insulting way the writers have handled the backlash.

THIS IS ALL WITHOUT EVEN TOUCHING ON HOW OOC BOTH QROW AND CLOVER WERE THROUGHOUT THAT FIGHT BUT WHATEVER.

I could keep going with Fairgame, but tbh I want to talk about why it feels like JK Rowling.

Number one, Bumblb, technically while it has been built up for so long and been pushed and had a romantic undertones and is basically cannon, it isn't. There still has yet to be an explicitly romantic moment on screen. There hasn't been an "I love you" or a kiss or anything. Therefore it still technically isn't cannon.

Two May Marigold. She has had about two lines total on screen. And the only reason we know she's trans is because someone confirmed it OFF SCREEN. On Twitter. Therefore if you only watch the show (with is completely fair) you wouldn't even know. AND SHE IS THE FIRST TRANS CHARACTER. You cannot do that to a group of people with such little representation. Especially when movies like A*am are still being made.

And that brings us back to Fairgame.

I feel betrayed and led on. When I first watched the episode and saw some of the discorse unfold, I was incredibly conflicted. I defended CRWB and if you scroll far back enough in my blog you can probably see that. But like I said, the more I read the more anger I felt about the situation.

Would I be mad if it were only Fairgame, yes.

Would I be THIS mad if it were only Fairgame, no.

Will I continue to watch the show, probably. However I am thoroughly disappointed and angry. I will demand an explanation and I will demand better in the future. I have lost a significant amount of trust and respect for CRWB which is ironic, because this volume is completely centered around trust.

CRWB, you are better than this.

#rwby #Fairgame #fair game #sigh #ah shit here we go again #i dont normally do this but #rant #rwby spoilers #rwby rant #im mad #ffs

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edgeofisolation · 4 years

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Slice an Dice: An Acedemic Review of Men, Women and Chainsaws: Gender in the Modern Horror Film by Carol Clover

Since its induction, horror films are one of the most evocative genres of film of all time. Horror has the power to evoke virtually any emotion out of its viewers. The genre has the power to make its audience feel fear, it can make them feel happiness, it can make them feel empowered, and it can even make them cry. But what is most interesting about the genre, perhaps, is the hidden codes and allegories contained within the film that have a lot to say about the socio-political climate of society at both micro and macro levels, Despite this, prior to the time of the release of Men, Women and Chainsaws: Gender in the Modern Horror Film, horror had been a grossly understudied subject and when it was studied it had been largely subject to the kinds of scrutiny felt by no other genre of film. In her seminal study of gender in horror films (particularly those taking place from the mid-1970s to the late 1980s), Clover provides a detailed and enlightening analysis of the underlying codes allegories contained in modern horror films as it pertains particularly to gender. She largely does this through the analysis of three subgenres in horror that have a (seemingly) central focus on female characters: the slasher film, the rape-revenge film, and the occult film.

At the heart of the book lies Clover’s central argument. Herein, Clover argues for the reasons why it is that young men – the majority audience of these particular genres – are able to identify with female protagonists in these films despite – and perhaps because of – traditional sentiments around cinema spectatorship of the time largely through the theoretical framework of psychoanalysis. Though the majority of the book roughly revolves around this argument, Clover does make interesting arguments on gender in horror as a whole, the role it places in spectatorship, and the notably frequent amount of times the genre makes use of dual gaze of the assaultive and reactive gaze where the subject of the gaze (at least temporarily) shifts between men and women. Despite the dominant discourse on horror films at the time which frame the genre as a wholly exploitative and ridiculous display of the worst misogyny has to offer, Clover provides a detailed, convincing argument to the ways in which horror (particularly subgenres covered) both reinforces and disrupts traditional notions of Western cinema spectatorship. Though she does not completely refute arguments made by film theorists and critics alike, Clover does provide at the very least an interesting analysis on the ways gender performs in horror movies and the implications it has on not just its spectators, but society as whole – something that had been scarcely covered prior to the time of its release. Succinctly, Clover is arguing that horror has a lot more to say than its gory exploitative exterior might imply. Through the analysis of multiple prominent (and infamous) films in each subgenre covered and framing it predominantly around a psychoanalytic framework, Clover provides an incredibly insightful – if not noticeably limited by its very theoretical framework – analysis on both women in horror and the men who watch and create them.

The book begins with an introduction that largely serves to form the base of the rest of the book and details not only Clover’s central arguments, but what the book as a whole will seek to uncover. This introduction begins with an analysis of the occult film Carrie. What is interesting about this beyond its analysis is the way in which the framing of this analysis broadly ties in the rest of the book. By giving her own understanding of the film and juxtaposing its seemingly feminist undertones to Stephen King’s (the author of the book version of the film) argument that Carrie herself is meant to be an embodiment of adolescent male anxieties, Clover is able provide a surprisingly apt summary of the entire book that becomes increasingly clearer as the book concludes: young men are able to identify with female protagonists (coined victim-heroes) not despite of their differing genders but because of it – something distinctively rooted in one-sex theory.

The following chapter begins her first subgenre analysis, the slasher film. The chapter opens up with a description and explanation of what a slasher film is, including all its tropes and narrative devices. What is immediately interesting is that Clover uses slasher films that are not incredibly critically acclaimed and are largely dismissed for their brutality and vulgarity (with the exceptions of Halloween and A Nightmare on Elm Street) that on the base seem superficial and generic on their exteriors (such as her detailed analysis of Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2), yet, for better or worse, say a lot interiorly. As the chapter progresses what was insightful is her analysis of the Killer and the Final Girl (a term she coined herself). Herein we have Clover describing the Final Girl as the (almost exclusively female) lone survivor of the Killer’s rampage, and the only one able to thwart and defeat the (male) killer (35). Though more prominent in the 1980s than mid-1970s, the Final Girl does so almost entirely on her own where male help is almost useless and entirely disposable – a stark subversion of the traditional cinematic apparatus situating the female as solely a victim and the male as solely heroic (37). More interesting – and a running theme throughout the book – is Clover’s analysis of the gender-swop that takes place here. As the movie progresses, Clover notes the feminization of the Killer (such as a stunted childhood) and the masculinization of the Final Girl (such as her usage of phallocentric tools). Together with the gaze swop from the Killer in the beginning to the Final Girl in the end, genders are swopped psychosexually and where gender now is not contingent on sex and the story becomes explicitly hers (49). The young male viewer is then able to swop identification with the male killer and distinctly towards the female victim-hero (i.e. the audience becomes both victim in the beginning and hero by the end). The story might be hers but it is still expressively male-centred (59).

The second chapter centres on occult films. Beginning much the same as the previous chapter, Clover describes the occult film in detail. On a literal level, Clover describes the Occult film as white science’s battle and submission to black magic. However, as this is distinctly coded through gender, occult films become yet another seemingly subversive narrative account on gender. Here, white science is coded as masculine whereas black magic is coded as feminine (with the exception of priests and children). What stands out as most interesting is then its subtle expression of gender swopping and Clover’s argument that though occult films have women at its core, is still decidedly male-centred – a story about a man in crisis (90). The woman serves as the body and site of black magic due to her femininity being more openness to the penetration of the black magic force (a vessel/accessory), the man serves as the psyche whose story the film is ultimately about. In such, the male, in order to save the female body, must renounce his white science conceptions of rationality (coded as masculine) and become open (coded as feminine) to the ideas and happenings and existence of black magic (99). Through openness the male is able to adopt a ‘good’ masculinity and fully renounce his old cold, distant and closed off ‘bad’ masculinity – if not he is likely to die or lose the woman. For Clover, the nature of the occult film and its psychosexual underpinning leave seemingly feminist readings of the film on hold because it implicitly implies that the creation of the new ‘good’ masculinity comes at expense the female and is still largely male-centric – for the male to more emotionally open, the female must become hysterical (113).

The third chapter introduces the rape-revenge film whereby the story centres on a woman who is brutally raped by one or more men and the similarly brutal revenge she enacts on the men/man involved (and sometimes even those complicit in rape). In a procaqtive study of I Spit on Your Grave and its influencer Deliverance, Clover details the socio-political underpinnings of the rape-revenge that veer away from just gender and incorporate class in its analysis (the only chapter to integrate satisfactory intersectionality). Many rape-revenge films in horror, Clover notes, often occupy on the double axis of male/female and country/city. Succinctly, this entails that these films have an intrinsically class nature to them that is intertwined with its gender-bending. In the rape-revenge film country is coded as masculine and is depicted with the male antagonists where these male country folk are more often than not depicted as poor, highly patriarchal, borderline uncivilised, and live beyond the norms of social law and order; whilst the city is coded as feminine depicted by a (mostly) affluent female protagonist who serves as the films victim-hero and represents civility and capitalist wealth (and exploitation) (144). In such, country men are ideologically positioned as wrong and their act of raping our city female victim-hero is depicted as an inevitable, making the revenge half of the film all the more justifiable. Much like the Final Girl in slasher films, the victim-hero and male antagonists have a gender swap where the men are metaphorically (and sometimes physically) castrated and penetrated by the now masculinized woman (representing psychosexual male anxieties on castration) (159). Rape becomes the problem of the woman to solve on her own and through her masculinization, the story once again appeals to male identification with the female victim-hero where the woman’s brutality is labelled as sweetly justifiable despite his own psychosexual desires/fears on castration and penetration (164).

The final chapter is perhaps the densest in the book that has three distinct but interlinking parts: a critique on film theory and its depiction of horror as solely sadist (i.e. assaultive), an analysis of horror as being both sadist and masochistic (i.e. assaultive and reactive), and the reiteration and settlement of Clover’s central argument. Beginning with an analysis of Peeping Tom, Clover highlights ways in which the film (argued to itself be a critique on cinema) occupies at a level of sadism (Mark Lewis’ murder of the women in front of his camera) and at a level of masochism (Lewis’ own experiences as a child study in front of his Father’s camera and his own eventual suicide) (179). By doing this, Clover argues for the inconsistencies of film theory to wholly regard horror as purely sadistic on the grounds of an assaultive gaze (coded as masculine) and dismissive as one of the vilest forms of modern cinema in its treatment of women. Here, film theory argues that modern cinema looks at women largely through the male gaze where the man serves as the subject, objectifying women by occupying at a level of voyeuristic sadism (the assaultive gaze) with horror being one of the extreme examples of this (206). However, Clover makes an interesting argument that what film theorists ignore, “in the name of feminism,” is that by positioning of horror movie occupying a purely assaultive gaze is to ignore a glaring blind-spot in their argument. Once again bringing forth the subgenre’s described (particularly the rape-revenge film), Clover notes that viewer identification with the victim being one of the tantamount features of the modern horror films, a fact that is heavily exploited by its filmmakers (210). Being that horror’s intention is to cause fear and pain onto its spectators, Clover argues that it is the filmmakers who largely occupy the assaultive gaze whilst the spectators occupy the reactive gaze (but there is an element of the assaultive gaze) which prove its tendency to occupy not simply in the realm of sadism, but of masochism as well despite what common criticism imply (212). Thus in terms of psychosexual fear and desire, the modern horror film, through its exploitation of Freudian notion of ‘feminine masochism’ and the tendency of repetition compulsion in its viewers, is able to locate the (young male) spectator in the reactive gaze (with secondary influences of the assaultive gaze) by aligning his identification with that of the (female) victim(hero) and locating his psychosexual experiences almost firmly is masochism and not simply in sadism as implied by film theorists (222). And it is because of this tendency of feminine masochism that Clover argues answers her overall argument as to why young male spectators would “choose to ‘feel’ fear and pain through the figure of a female – a female, in fact, whose very bodily femaleness is at centre stage” (226).

Clover’s argument, here, is entirely plausible. By positioning horror in the discursive framework of psychoanalysis, Clover is able to sufficiently argue the various ways in which gender plays out in Horror whilst still securely situating it in her initial argument. Though some of her claims would have been dismissible, her extensive use of actual film examples provides a detailed understanding on what Clover is actually trying to say, making the employment of her ‘evidence’ wholly convincing – especially highlighted in her critique of film theory. Lastly, it is interesting the way she positions women in horror. Though there could arguably be a number of feminist undertones in the subgenres described and it is impressive the extent of their subversive natures, they still comes across as heavily male-centric as Clover makes it seem that despite what may seem the story still revolves almost entirely around the experience of it majority audience – young white men.

However, her analysis is not without its faults. Perhaps what strikes as her most glaring problem is her over-usage of her theoretical framework. Though positioning gender psychoanalytically provides at the very least an interesting analysis and heavily influences her argument, Clover’s sole usage of psychoanalysis leaves a few things to be desired. Instead of situating gender in horror under the realms of their social and cultural contexts, Clover misses out a few interesting argument that would add further nuance to her argument(s). For example, in her study of slasher films in the 1980s, by extending her framework to incorporate socio-cultural backgrounds of the time, Trencansky (2001) is able to highlight the many potential allegories within the slasher film (such teenage transgression of neoliberal suburban values marked by the ‘transgressors’ in the film and the ascent to adult agency marked by the Final Girl triumphantly defeating her oppressor) and the analysis of the killer as being an allegory of rebellion gone wrong that is ‘othered’ by society (Trencansky, S., 2001: 68-70)

It should also be mentioned that her use of psychoanalysis itself holds some problems. In essentially trying to identify why it is that young white men are so invested in horror, Clover runs the risk of reducing her audience to a set of more or less fixed characteristics that further homogenizes her study (Tudor, A., 1997: 445). Instead of situation horror in a variety of different fields, and especially by little attention the socio-political climates and context of the period in which these films were made, Clover places a heavy influence on the inner workings of gender and spectatorship whilst largely ignoring any external factors that arguably have just as much impact(Tudor, A., 1997: 452). In the same vein that Clover critiques film theorists through imposing essentialist binaries on horror cinema, Clover runs the risk of reducing a very heterogeneous group to largely homogeneous characteristics. What then becomes interesting is the ways in horror and cinema spectatorship play out when one is to consider not only psychosocial factors that influence the genre and those who watch it, but the socio-political contexts they were made in as well.

As it stands, Clover’s seminal study of gender in horror movie stands as one of the most influential and cited works of the study of horror and spectatorship. Though not without its faults, the book is still able to convincingly argue the interplay and intersections of gender in horror and the broader implications it has on cinema spectatorship. Far from just another critique of horror gratuity, Clover’s book presents itself as an essential read for anyone even vaguely interested by the genre and especially those who study it.

References:

Clover, C., 1992. Men, Women and Chainsaws: Gender in the Modern Horror Film. United States of America: Princeton University Press.

Trencansky, S. 2001. Final Girls and Terrible Youth: Transgression in 1980s Slasher Horror. Journal of Popular Film and Television. 29(2): 63-73

Tudor, A. 1997. WHY HORROR? THE PECULIAR PLEASURES OF A POPULAR GENRE.

Cultural Studies

. 11(3): 443-463

#horror #gender #review #carol clover #final girls

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