By Rebecca Rinehart
Should women support rape revenge films?
Yes, I am a woman. . . boobs, vagina, and all. And I adore the rape revenge genre. Before anyone starts blasting me in the comments, please hear me out: I’ve spent my entire adult life being “the one chick in the room.” I went to college and graduate school for Mathematics, landed a high-level position in the technology field, and am a genuine horror fan. I have had my share of situations where I had to be just a little smarter, louder, or meaner to be more than the token vagina of a group.
I grew up in a traditional Midwestern household in the 1980s: Dad worked a factory job while Mom took care of the kids and made supper every night. I played with Barbies (actually wearing a Barbie shirt at the moment. . .), watched the Smurfs, and wore pretty dresses. I obviously strayed from the path I was shown as a young girl and often ponder The Why of it. After years of reflection, I identified the EXACT moment where realization of my potential and self-worth as a female changed dramatically.
My sisters are 6 and 14 years older than I: they spent most of their time ignoring or terrorizing me as a child. Forced to take 6-year-old me with them to my aunt’s house, they subjected me to some questionable things. She had a huge collection of movies recorded on blank tapes AND let the older girls drink AND had a pool. Undoubtedly, they pretended I wasn’t there They chose from her enormous collection two films that would mold my young mind into what it is today: first, the Zucker/Abrahms classic Kentucky Fried Movie (which is the template of my juvenile and inappropriate sense of humor), then the taboo rape-revenge flick I Spit On Your Grave. Yep.
Going back to my sheltered upbringing: I didn’t even know that boys had any physical differences from me than haircuts, clothes, and smelliness. Sex was a COMPLETELY foreign concept to me so RAPE was definitely not something in my frame of reference. However, what I DID take away from the movie was this: those boys were really really mean to that girl and instead of being a tattletale, she got back at them REAL GOOD. And independent, strong-willed Rebecca arose.
Over the course of my adulthood, rape revenge movies have been a source of strength and release for me. When I feel like the world has kicked me in the tits, I kick it back by watching one of these tales of sisters doin’ it for themselves. The appeal of rape revenge as opposed to standard revenge is simple: in the rape scenario, the woman is assaulted, but not usually dead or incapacitated (though the one exception to this may be the Linda Blair classic, Savage Streets). She has the feasible ability to muster her adrenaline and seek vengeance for herself. Most other revenge movies involve someone being killed or hospitalized while a loved one enacts justice. But in this precious genre, the victim herself has the immediate gratification to look her assailants in the face and give shit back to them twofold.
Now, this genre is not without its tropes. Just as slashers rely on a formula to bend your suspension of disbelief, rape revenge also contains a set of rules: first, the viewer MUST grow to love and sympathize with the victim. This is paramount. Next, the situation she endures should occur while she is minding her own business and in no rational way is a result of a bad decision on her part. Additionally, the universe should appear to be shitting on this woman in every way possible. And she should be impervious to any mortal bodily harm before given the chance to seek revenge. Those elements essentially pave the way for the fist-pump YUUUUSSSSSS moments in the third act.
I only recently came to this realization when two of these films I adored were looked at by others with consternation. The 2018 film Revenge was perfect to me in every way; however, more critical viewers could not abide that her back didn’t break when she fell from the cliff onto a very sharp tree (true, but MOVIE). More recently, Get My Gun had a very realistic first and second act but opted for a more unbelievable third act. With both, I was so invested in the protagonist that I never once questioned the feasibility of their actions, making them both landmarks in this genre in my eyes.
Of course, our current social climate causes another level of skepticism for these films, even in the mostly open-minded horror community. Men feel that they should not enjoy them because they center on brutality of women. Women are berated because these films unrealistically depict the actual nature of sexual assault (most of this essay could have been compiled from my rage-fueled Facebook retorts of the last couple of years. . .). To both sides, I remind you: we watch someone get their head cut off and CHEER. We relish in the creative ways basic household utensils can be used to eviscerate a human. And why? We are entertained, comforted and amazed by the talent displayed in these films while they give us a haven to escape the brutal world we deal with constantly. Fans often receive the label of “subversive” from the outside world because of the comfort horror provides them when the horror community proves continually to be the most caring and accepting group of people in existence. So if we are good with watching a sweet decap and don’t question each other’s support of head-chopping in real life, why assume that rape revenge fans support rape?
Next time someone cuts you off in traffic, your boss yells at you at work, or you stop at Walmart on a Saturday, come home in pop in Ms. 45. . . your mood just might change drastically.
Becca is a horror podcaster, YouTuber, interviewer and writer who has an extreme passion for all things macabre.
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