When Gay Frenemies Kill!!
Perhaps no horror movie has grown more in cultural standing over the past decade plus than Jennifer’s Body. A true cult classic, this slice of high school gore joins the ranks of Starship Troopers and other films whose satire went over audiences’ heads at the time of their release. Much has been written about Karyn Kusama’s ode to the perils of being “the hot girl” when you’re still too young to understand the dangers within that image. Jennifer’s sexuality is the focal point of the film with Megan Fox bringing her star persona to the character, allowing audiences to see the sexism and beauty standards foisted on the actress as applying to the character as well. The queer “subtext” (basically just text) of Jennifer and Needy’s intimate friendship resonated with many queer women, but it’s actually far from the first horror film to explore a toxic and romantic female friendship.
Queer genre fans and perverts alike will be familiar with the work of Jean Rollin. The man is mostly known for his dedication to the sub-subgenre of lesbian vampire flicks, films like The Shiver of the Vampire, Fascination, and Lips of Blood. The Living Dead Girl is one of his best and most interesting in terms of the dynamics represented between female friends. Released in 1982, the movie’s plot reads similarly to the film made two decades later, minus the high school setting: Catherine returns from the dead, thirsty for blood. Her friend, Hélène, tries to take care of her, but has complicated feelings about murder, and her own romantic urges towards Catherine. Swap the names out for Needy and Jennifer, and you have the plot of Jennifer’s Body.
The two films diverge in interesting ways, primarily in the dynamic between the two lead women. Jennifer is the aggressor in her film, and Needy the victim, helpless against her friend’s bloodthirstiness until she takes matters into her own hands. In contrast, in The Living Dead Girl, the cannibal woman is the helpless one. Catherine is silent for the bulk of the runtime, but once she starts talking, her dialogue lacks the quick witticisms Fox wields like a knife against all around her. She earnestly cries for help, begging with Hélène to end her life and stop her suffering. Catherine cannot understand her existence as anything other than monstrous, and though she is talking about her cannibalistic urges, it is about her sexuality as well. Hélène has difficulty coming to terms with Catherine’s wishes and becomes the real monster of the movie, forcing Catherine to suck the blood from a young girl she abducted from the nearby village. Catherine recoils and frees the girl, but Hélène still refuses to kill her, too in love with the blonde woman despite her dark nature. Catherine cannot bear this and attacks her friend, ripping her throat open in a final bit of gore as Catherine wails in emotional and existential torment.
While Needy clings to the safety she feels in heterosexuality by turning against the woman she loves, Catherine’s queerness consumes her in a way no one has prepared for her to deal with. Neither relationship is a healthy one, and although Catherine and Hélène vocalize their love more than the high schoolers, this makes their relationship no less complicated. Hélène has enormous difficulty coming to terms with who Catherine is, attempting to convince both of them that she is “getting better,” whatever that could mean. Catherine is who she is. Hélène gives Catherine a dove she killed in order to feed on, but Catherine is put off by this gesture, seeing it as a lack of understanding between the lovers. The doves, and their cooing, become a symbol for Hélène’s lost innocence, as quickly after she kills the bird, she brings her first unsuspecting victim into her lover’s arms. As Catherine feeds, Hélène stands amongst the doves, their cooing overwhelming the soundtrack and her psyche.
It’s odd to me that the two films are never talked about in conversation with each other, or Jennifer’s Body in the greater context of lesbian bloodsuckers. The idea of one’s sexuality, especially queer sexuality, being monstrous is not unique to these two films, but they do place that idea in a context I’ve rarely seen outside these two examples. The childhood friendship with deep romantic subtext is something I’m sure is familiar to many other queer people, though queer women in particular to seem to be the most susceptible. Exploring that dynamic through a horror lens is endlessly fascinating, dissecting the anxieties of queer teenagers and adults in each film respectively. And while the dynamics play out different in both cases, neither feels less real or honest about queer women relationships. They’re awkward texts in some ways, but are all the better for it. If films about queer relationships can’t be a little messy, how can they ever feel accurate?
