“EXPLORERS IN THE FURTHER REGIONS OF EXPERIENCE”: LATE
TWENTIETH-CENTURY BODY HORROR’S SUBVERSION OF VICTORIAN
MONSTERS AND MODERN SEX POLITICS

by

Michael Rief

B.A., University of Northern British Columbia, 2018

THESIS SUBMITTED IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OF
THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF
MASTER OF ARTS
IN
ENGLISH

UNIVERSITY OF NORTHERN BRITISH COLUMBIA
September 2022

© Michael Rief, 2022

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Acknowledgements
A huge thanks to my supervisor, Dr. Karin Beeler, as well as my committee, Dr. Stan
Beeler and Dr. Michel Bouchard. All your guidance, wisdom, patience, and support helped get
me here. I would also like to acknowledge my external, Dr. Stacey Abbott and my past
instructor, Dr. Robert Budde for serving as chair during my defence. Additionally, to all the staff
at UNBC and my professors over the years, thank you very much for your assistance and
knowledge. A special mention goes to my mentor and friend, Troy Moore, who stoked the
passion in my heart for English literature.
The most important thank you goes to all my wonderful friends and family, especially my
mom. Your love and support made this whole thing possible.
I hope this thesis will inspire and encourage future discussions and analysis of the body
horror subgenre of film within academia. I thank you dear reader for embarking on this journey
with me.

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This Thesis is Dedicated to the Loving Memory of
My Grandparents: Joe Rief, James ‘Buster’ Tully, and Gerry Hoy,
My Dog, Willie Mays,
AND
My Father, Henry Rief.

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Abstract
This thesis explores the body horror subgenre of film, its creation and rise in popularity
during the late twentieth century (1975-1995), and how the subgenre’s grotesque and unsettling
examination of the human body, its form, and reproductive processes, allowed body horror
filmmakers to tackle societal taboos regarding the human body and one’s sexuality. By
comparing and contrasting the body horror subgenre with both its contemporary the slasher
subgenre and its thematic sexual origins within Victorian Gothic fin de siècle horror fiction, this
thesis will provide evidence that the subgenre makes significant strides within the horror genre to
push a more progressive narrative and representation of men, women, and the LQBTQ+
community, through its deconstruction of the human body/form, sexuality, and reproductive
processes.
Through a detailed breakdown and analysis of Ridley Scott’s Alien (1979), David
Cronenberg’s Shivers (1975) and The Fly (1986), Clive Barker’s Hellraiser (1987) and
Nightbreed: The Director’s Cut (2014), and Roger Donaldson’s Species (1995), this thesis will
demonstrate how filmmaking techniques, themes, and narratives of these films, deconstruct
previous notions of the human body and sexuality within the horror genre, and encourage
audiences to re-evaluate the body, and the roles/positions/pressures society has created around
sexuality and perceived sexual taboos and fears.

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Table of Contents
Acknowledgements………………………………………………………………………………..2
Dedication…………………………………………………………………………………………3
Abstract………...………………………………………………………………………………….4
Table of Contents……….…………………………………………………………………………6
Introduction………………………………………………………………………………………..8
Chapter One: Seductresses and Monstrous Mothers………...…………………………..............22
Chapter Two: Emerging Disgust: Body Horror Film and the Homosexual/Sexual
‘Other’……………………………………………………………….....………………………...46
Chapter Three: The Fragile Ego: Masculinity and Body Horror Film.………………………….71
Conclusion…………………………………………………………………………………….....95
Bibliography……………………………………………………………………………………107

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Introduction
Although it has largely been recognized for its grotesque and unsettling imagery, the
subgenre of body horror1 is notable for the ways in which it utilizes its subject matter and
imagery to challenge society’s fear and perception of the body, sex and sexuality by
transforming the human body into an unrecognizable form that disregards all societal, cultural
and political constructs. Oftentimes, academic discussions on body horror tends to focus solely
on the detailed breakdown of the bodily functions, degradation, metamorphism, etc. of the
human body and its form; however, this thesis will focus more on the overlooked thematic
elements present within the subgenre while still retaining some discussions on the bodily
breakdown of the human form and how it connects to said thematic themes. Additionally,
focusing more on the thematic themes and avoiding the gorier descriptive breakdown of the
human form within the subgenre, should allow this thesis to be more accessible towards an
audience and academic crowd which has historically overlooked or dismissed the body horror
subgenre because of its content. Despite some academic research on how modern societal fears
have impacted the subgenre, critics have largely ignored the subgenre’s roots in the Victorian
Gothic fin de siècle novel,2 overlooking how it influenced: the creators, narratives, subject
material, and themes of contemporary body horror fiction, in addition to the differing ideological
concerns of the representation and roles of women, homosexuals and men within society. It is

Body horror, according to academic Peter Hutchings in their work, Historical Dictionary of Horror Cinema, is “a
type of horror film that first emerged during the 1970s, one that offered graphic and sometimes clinical
representations of human bodies that were in some way out of the conscious control of their owners. In a sense body
horror describes the ultimate alienation — alienation from one’s own body — but this has often been coupled with a
fascination with the possibility of new identities that might emerge from this” (49).
2
Fin de siècle or turn of the century, in this case refers to a Victorian genre variation of the Gothic that typically
explores the mutating bodies and the degradation of the human form in both body and spirit. It also represents a
cultural and ideological school of thought for the Victorians. See Hurley, The Gothic Body. Typically, Victorian
Gothic fin de siècle horror literature is comprised of and recognized for its novels/novellas; however, it also
encompasses short stories and other forms of fiction (such as a poems).
1

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not hard to recognize the key influence this subgenre of literature has had on late twentiethcentury body horror filmmakers, as the core tenets, imagery, themes and subject matter explored
by influential fin de siècle authors, such as Arthur Machen, directly influenced key figures within
the body horror field, such as, Clive Barker, Stephen King and Guillermo del Toro, who have all
cited the fin de siècle and authors like Machen, as direct inspirations for their own stories (Aaron
Worth xi).
In this thesis, I will argue how the Gothic fin de siècle and modern sex politics have
influenced the creation of the body horror subgenre, while also arguing how the rise of feminist
and gender theory, and the public awareness and ‘coming out’ of the Gay community during the
1980s, resulted in the subgenre’s rejection of previous societal patriarchal/conservative beliefs
and theory about the female, homosexual and masculine figure found within fin de siècle
literature and contemporary modern horror film. The thesis will examine how the rise in feminist
and gender theory during the 1980s, inspired body horror filmmakers to reject the
patriarchal/conservative values of their society, and the Victorian Gothic fin de siècle
representations, by refusing to appeal to male masculinity and empowerment in its subsequent
portrayal of women, homosexuals, and men. To achieve these claims, my research will focus on
the following films: Ridley Scott’s Alien (1979), David Cronenberg’s Shivers (1975) and The Fly
(1986), Clive Barker’s Hellraiser (1987) and Nightbreed (1990), and Roger Donaldson’s Species
(1995).
Alien, Shivers, and Species are three films that challenge preconceived horror film and
Gothic notions of the idyllic sexual subservient and/or monstrous female trope, through the
placement of women in dominant roles of power, while addressing concerns of female worth in
society; David Cronenberg’s The Fly (1986); and Clive Barker’s Nightbreed (1990) and

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Hellraiser (1987), are films that either re-present the Gothic homosexual ‘monster’ as a
misunderstood, sympathetic beings and victims of societal fear and persecution (The Fly and
Nightbreed), or they represent the Gothic’s desired masculine traits of male dominance, as
character faults and the direct cause of their eventual punishment (Nightbreed and Hellraiser).
The chapters contained in this thesis will address the topics of the monstrous feminine, the
monstrous homosexual, and masculine frailty within the body horror subgenre through
discussions of these aforementioned films.
Although seemingly disconnected from traditional horror film criticism, the Victorian
Gothic fin de siècle is an important field of research in relation to the subgenre of body horror.
Kelly Hurley’s The Gothic Body, is a critical analysis of Victorian Gothic fin de siècle literature,
which provides much needed context for the origins of modern body horror, and its political,
cultural and social history. Hurley’s exploration of the “ruination of the human subject” (3) in the
Gothic fin de siècle novel, discusses the role entropic body hysteria and degenerationism 3 had on
society’s fear of the degenerate or sexual ‘Other’ (the homosexual, the sexually unrestrained, the
whore, etc.). Research by Hurley has shown that “[t]he Gothic . . . mapped out alternate
trajectories of evolution . . . imagining monstrous modifications of known species” (10), which
explains why much of her field’s focus tends to explore the Gothic’s attempts at creating new
and horrific variations of those they deemed monstrous in their society. The sexual ‘Others’ of
Victorian society, whose physical: breakdown, mutation, mutilation and transformation into
unrecognizable, grotesque and unsympathetic beings, was designed to garner public support of
the “[s]uppression of the degenerate” (Hurley 79); ultimately, this suppression dehumanized and
villainized whoever went against the values of the ruling conservative religious and political

3

A Victorian theory that evolution could actually regress and become stagnant. See Hurley.

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right-wing of Victorian society, while also supporting degenerationalist theories on human
evolution. The study of fin de siècle literature aims to explain this period’s radical views on
evolutionary theory, and its seemingly simultaneous aversion and attraction to those elements of
society meant to be suppressed and avoided. Although Hurley does not mention how this period
would guide future horror creators, one can still see how the popularity of early adaptations of
fin de siècle novels in the film industry, and the combining of patriarchal/conservative ideology
towards homosexuals and women with scientific ‘evidence’ and theory, helped make the genre a
highly influential and engrained element of cultural discourse. The creation and normalization of
such Gothic tropes as the monstrous homosexual and the treacherous whore, would become
staples within the horror film landscape. It is, therefore, necessary to acknowledge the residual
influence the fin de siècle had on horror film, and to address the ways in which body horror
rejects (or at least attempts to reject) patriarchal beliefs and notions of the degenerate outcast
causing the ruination of society. Originating from the fin de siècle, the subgenre of body horror
remains obsessed with people’s fear regarding their bodies, sex and sexuality, and how it
influences both them and society. The body horror subgenre of film has largely been influenced
by the core tenets, imagery, themes and subject matter of fin de siècle authors. Unlike Victorian
fin de siècle works from which body horror took much of its inspiration, the subgenre has
evolved beyond its conservative roots, to adopt more progressive stances on issues regarding the
representation of the female, homosexual and masculine figure in horror literature and film. For
the most part, previous research in the fin de siècle’s influence on modern body horror film, and
its sexual politics, have generally been ignored or minimized in favour of examining
contemporary cultural, societal and political influences. Horror film critics, such as Harry M.
Benshoff, Barbara Creed and Carol J. Clover, have all noted the fin de siècle’s importance and

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influence on modern horror film, but none have fully acknowledged this connection in their own
research; (although, Benshoff has acknowledged a connection in passing).4 It will be the focus of
this thesis to rectify this oversight, and build upon the research laid out in several chapters, as it
can be argued that the subgenre of body horror has been influenced by both contemporary sexual
politics, and the historical ones of its past. How the fin de siècle novel’s prudish and harmful
beliefs regarding the body, sex and sexuality have been altered or abandoned by modern body
horror filmmakers like Barker and Cronenberg, cannot be ignored, with films like The Fly
drawing heavily upon Gothic works like The Island of Dr. Moreau (1896) to varying effect.
However, this thesis will not disregard the influence of modern sexual politics; rather, it aims to
combine both this sphere of politics and the Victorian Gothic, providing one of the first historical
overviews and contextual explanations for this often overlooked and underappreciated subgenre.
In regards to modern sexual politics, key feminist voices in the field of horror film
academia, such as Clover and Creed, have provided much of the framework on sex politics
within the genre, which can directly be applied to the study of body horror. One of the first and
most notable pieces of horror film criticism, Clover’s Men, Women, and Chainsaws, examines
the representation of women in slasher horror films, and the general male voyeurism and ‘gaze’
present within the genre.5 Clover was the first academic to define and classify the ‘Final Girl’
trope/character,6 and provided the first major analysis of the patriarchal representation of women
within the genre, mainly through discussions on the reinforcement of male masculinity and
fantasy fulfillment, through the aforementioned aspects of voyeurism and the male gaze. Creed,

Throughout Benshoff’s text, he references the fin de siècle, but only goes as far as to suggest its importance on
creating the homosexual as an ‘unspeakable’ in horror fiction. See pp. 19-20 as an example.
5
For more on voyeurism and male gaze in horror film, see Clover’s introduction, “Carrie and the Boys.”
6
‘Final Girl’ refers to a horror trope where the only survivor of the film’s events is a virginal or pure female figure.
See Chapter “Her Body, Himself” by Clover for more.
4

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on the other hand, addresses the more grotesque, revolting and biological elements that often
define female characters within the subgenre as monstrous figures. In her discussion of films
such as Alien, Creed notes that the female characters in horror films are often “reconstructed and
re-presented as a negative figure . . . which threatens to reabsorb what it once birthed” (27). The
different perspectives from these two key critics on how female characters are presented to their
audiences, has resulted in somewhat of a divide in the feminist horror community as to which
critical approach is more influential; regardless, most would agree that horror film tends to
incorporate elements from each perspective. Although neither of these camps have significantly
addressed the body horror subgenre in their criticism, both Clover and Creed have acknowledged
the influence male viewers have on female representation in horror film studies, and the
requirement to satisfy that demographic’s needs. By indirectly subverting male expectations and
the standard patriarchal roles of women as either sexual objects or monstrous figures, the concept
of body horror can be applied to a more ideal feminist narrative and theoretical framework.
The first chapter entitled “Monstrous Mothers and Seductresses,” will focus on the
representation of women and the female body within the body horror subgenre, and its
connection to the fin de siècle. This genre of body horror depicts women who are often
systematically disparaged by the patriarchal ruling class. The societal fear over the ‘primal’ or
natural female form that Creed presents in her research (the vagina, womb, etc.), all originates
from the Gothic fin de siècle. Stories like Richard Marsh’s The Beetle (1897), present sexual
beings that are seemingly female, but break gender norms, (similar to the Xenomorph in the
Alien franchise). Alongside Creed, Clover will be discussed in connection to the sexual and
erotic elements that have remained a part of this patriarchal discourse and tradition, such as the
male rape fantasy and revulsion against pregnancy/birth. By combining the research of Hurley,

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Creed and Clover, and the fields of Gothic and contemporary feminist horror criticism, the fin de
siècle’s connection to and influence on modern horror film will be substantiated through its
similarities in the representation of women, and through patriarchal narratives that support male
masculinity and dominance over the female form. After establishing the patriarchal elements that
have remained in the genre since the Victorian Gothic (i.e., the sexualized and subservient or
monstrous female), my critique will analyze body horror’s embracing of strong female oriented
characters and plots, and the tendency to subvert male audience expectations that women are
either sexual objects to conquer, or beings to fear. The films: Shivers, Alien, and Species will be
the primary sources I will utilize throughout this chapter as evidence for these claims. These
films are notable within the subgenre for their inclusion of stories containing strong female leads
and themes of motherhood, which forces the modern male voyeur and patriarchal order to
confront their fears over the natural processes of birth and reproduction, through a direct
criticism of their motives, objectification, and viewpoints of women and their roles in society.
Another important focus of current horror academia, is the role sexual orientation has had
on the horror film genre. Harry M. Benshoff’s Monsters in the Closet, explores the history of
homosexuality in horror films and media. Building upon some of the work laid out by Clover,
Creed and other feminist theorists, Benshoff and critics like Edward Timothy Wallington,7 have
also explored the role patriarchal narratives and motives have had on the horror genre, but have
instead analyzed the impact sexual orientation has had on the crafting of narratives and
characters. Like criticism on gender in horror film, criticism on sexual orientation has largely
focused on the patriarchal discourse in the genre and on how the genre caters to the male viewer.
genre. Critical to any discussion on body horror films of the 1980s, the political landscape of the

7

See Wallington’s essay, “When Fantasy Becomes Reality.”

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United States and the United Kingdom are important to recognize here. As discussed by Steffen
Hantke in his essay, “The Rise of Popular Horror,” the grim and pessimistic attitude developed
by Americans in the 1970s due to world events, like the failure of the Vietnam War and global
concerns such as the rising tensions in the Middle East, had a drastic impact on the cultural and
social zeitgeist surrounding Ronald Reagan’s more optimistic approach to the 1980s (160-161).
The neoliberal and optimistic approach taken by the conservative Reagan (American) and
Thatcher (British) administrations would result in horror fiction like body horror and
‘splatterpunk’ to develop a counter-cultural movement, whereby
Delimited, accelerated form[s] of capitalism had created entire classes of dehumanised
bodies – a vast army of the homeless, the drug-addicted, those left behind and maimed by
the neoliberal measures of economic recovery after a decade of stagflation - [these
subgenres] reacted by putting these bodies and the violence done to them on gruesome
display” (178).
Often utilizing the AIDS outbreak of the 1980s, and the conservative political/social landscape of
the United States and the United Kingdom as a backdrop, Benshoff, and other critics who focus
on homosexual representation in film, have argued that the virus helped facilitate the resurgence
of the monstrous homosexual figure within the horror genre, and that the virus directly
contributed to the overall stigma and social backlash towards the Gay community. Criticism on
sexual orientation in horror film, addresses the inherent societal fear of the sexual ‘Other’ and
sexual ‘unknown’ as reasons for the negative portrayal of homosexuals as goofy freaks and
losers or monstrous creatures who will spread disease8 and death. This theoretical approach

Disease could refer to a literal one or a possible figurative spreading of ‘Gayness’ to an otherwise straight
individual.
8

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suggests the male fear of losing one’s masculinity or appearing as the aforementioned sexual
‘Other’ or ‘unknown,’ which typically becomes the root cause of male voyeurism, and
subsequent patriarchal narratives/characters. Removing the ability for the audience to recognize
and classify a creature’s sex9 or sexual orientation is a unique aspect of the subgenre of body
horror which allows the audience to ignore perceived patriarchal discourses oftentimes
associated with gendered bodies/forms such as, the ‘monstrous’ homosexual or the ‘feeble’ and
sexually inferior female form. Understanding the political and social landscape the body horror
film and its creators were entering at the time of its inception, as well as the ways in which male
masculinity and overcompensation were either ignored or punished in body horror films like The
Fly and Nightbreed, will assist in providing substantial proof of the subgenre’s enlightened
nature and willingness to disregard the patriarchal mold of the homosexual figure, while
presenting its counter-cultural narrative of anti neo-liberal conservative attitudes.
The second chapter, “The Monstrous Closet: Emerging Disgust,” will compare and
contrast the differing views and representation of the homosexual in the body horror subgenre,
with images in fin de siècle literature and its 1980s slasher film contemporaries. An extensive
history of the Victorian entropic body hysteria’s effect on the homosexual figure in body horror,
comprises a significant segment of this chapter. The Victorian Gothic’s suppression of the
homosexual is a trend that still remains in much of contemporary horror film today as I will
discuss later, and it is especially present in body horror’s peer: the slasher film. This chapter will
provide evidence that the subgenre of body horror subverts typical homosexual representation in

9

Instead of utilizing the more appropriate modern term of ‘gender,’ ‘sex’ has been chosen for this thesis for the sake
of clarity in the comparison between Victorian fin de siècle literature and twentieth-century horror film, largely
because of the Victorians’ widely accepted belief that there are only two sexes and only two genders. Furthermore,
because of the nature of body horror film, the sexual orientation of an individual or entity is not always clear and
runs the risk of misgendering said individuals or beings. It could be argued that body horror was one of the first
societal art forms/counter movements to address gender politics as a separate aspect to that of one’s biological sex.

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its attempts at humanizing the homosexual, and creating sympathy for their continued
segregation in society, while villianizing the patriarchal/conservative members of society who
oppress them. The Fly plays into much of the societal fear of the homosexual monster spreading
disease and death as a result of the AIDS epidemic; Nightbreed, on the other hand, focuses more
on rectifying past portrayals of homosexuals within the horror genre by releasing them from the
suppressed ‘closet’ the fin de siècle placed them in, and making a mockery of the film’s male
characters’ over-compensation of masculinity in the presence of plausible homosexual figures.
As this chapter will explain, the body horror subgenre is in a unique position in comparison to its
contemporary genres (e.g. the slasher film), since it allows, through the process of mutation and
metamorphosis of the human body, for the complete removal of sexual orientation and bodily
signifiers (i.e., a penis or vagina), creating something unrecognizable and unidentifiable.10
Previous theoretical work into sexual orientation and homosexuality in horror film has largely
ignored the body horror subgenre; theorists have often grouped the subgenre with other less
progressive 80s horror genres like the slasher film. In regards to the history of the horror genre
and its legitimacy as a field worthy of academic study, acknowledging those films and subgenres
that helped promote (or attempted to promote) social change, is important; therefore, the goal of
this chapter will be to provide substantial proof that body horror has adopted progressive views
towards the Gay community, by both humanizing them as people, and creating sympathy for
their continued segregation in society.
The third and final chapter, “The Fragile Sex,” will focus on the representation of male
masculinity within the body horror subgenre. This chapter will mostly focus on Clover, Benshoff

This is in-direct opposition to “the myth of the hygienic and self-contained body, which is so prevalent in the
culture of middle-class America,” according to Jim Leach, author of Film in Canada (108).
10

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and Hurley as key voices, while the films Shivers, Hellraiser, and Nightbreed will be the major
primary sources utilized. Masculinity is an important element to almost every horror film, and
there has been much criticism about the over-sexualization of the female form within the genre,
as addressed by Clover and other feminist theorists who indicate that this is, a direct result of
appeal to male masculinity. Unlike its slasher peers and the fin de siècle male characters of its
past, body horror’s masculine figure is often anything but desirable or likeable, and is almost
always a failure in contrast to his female counterpart(s). Hellraiser and Nightbreed are two films
that are seemingly dripping with male testosterone at the start of the narrative; however, as both
films progress, they continually portray masculinity as a disadvantage and character fault. In
Hellraiser, Frank’s (Sean Chapman) unquenchable lust and desire to sexually conquer every
female he comes into contact with, leads him to a puzzle box that traps him in hell with the
satanic priests known as the Cenobites. In hell, Frank’s flesh is torn asunder, where he is
ultimately punished for his sexual desires and transgressions. Hellraiser is a good example of the
way in which body horror counteracts the common stereotypes within the horror genre, as male
masculinity is shown to be a fault and damaging to those who become obsessed with its
influence. Nightbreed has a similar character to Hellraiser called Captain Eigerman (Charles
Haid), whose own shortcomings and prejudice against the monsters, results in an equal
punishment of death and eternal suffering; however, unlike Frank, Eigerman’s attempts at
masculine dominance is a result of him being surrounded by figurative homosexual monsters, not
female sexual objects in need of being conquered. Unlike other genres where male figures will
usually sacrifice themselves in order to save the Final Girl, or where the male is rewarded for his
sexual escapades (at least temporarily), the men in body horror films are usually total failures, or
in the case of Seth Brundle, shy, nerdy and timid men with little experience or control over

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women. By comparing male masculinity within the horror film genre to the body horror
subgenre, we can begin to understand which elements comprise the typical characteristics of
male masculinity in most 80s horror films (sexual dominance over women, and completely
removed from homosexual tendencies), and by doing so, we can establish how the subgenre
typically subverts these often rewarded male characteristics, through the brutal death of its
characters (e.g., Frank and Eigerman), and the unfulfilment of their greatest desire to uphold an
appearance of male masculinity and dominance. Shivers is also significant for its portrayal of the
male figure as fragile and controlling, with many of the male tenants of the story’s apartment
building setting participating in double standards in regards to sex and institution of marriage.
This chapter will answer how body horror explores the failure of masculinity as the dominant
sexual force through the theories of overcompensation in the face of the ‘adversarial’
homosexual and the repressed Gay, through an examination of the social and cultural space men
occupied during the 80s, and the general expectations conservative society placed on how it
expected men to behave and act towards one another as well as women and the homosexual
‘Other.’
This thesis will demonstrate a progressive trend in the late twentieth-century body horror
subgenre of films in its representation of sex, the body, and sexuality. This will be accomplished
through an examination on how the subgenre portrays the body, sex, and sexuality through its
deconstruction of the human form and resulting dismantling of conservative patriarchal
discourses of male superiority over the perceived inferiority of women and sexual ‘Others.’
Unlike its slasher film peer and body horror’s origins in the Gothic fin de siècle, the modern
body horror subgenre admonishes patriarchal discourses in which the dominant male form and
societal beliefs are the key to human evolution and societal prosperity. As the aforementioned

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chapters will demonstrate, body horror as a subgenre has developed into a counter-discourse to
conservative patriarchal values of male superiority and dominance. The goal of this thesis will
not suggest that all late twentieth-century body horror films are inherently progressive by nature
as many of them (even the ones discussed in this thesis) contain examples of patriarchal
elements. Instead, I will demonstrate that the subgenre has made a significant step towards more
progressive narratives in regards to body politics in the horror film genre as a whole.

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Chapter One: Seductresses and Monstrous Mothers
The Gothic Fin de Siècle Woman through the Lens of Degeneration Theory
Victorian Gothic literature, historically portrays the female form and personality as
morally corruptible and, therefore, problematic for society. As evidence for this claim, Hurley
divulges to her readers that Victorian gender ideology was “a site of internal contradiction,”
citing the key example of “identifying women as dangerously defined by their bodies on the one
hand and ethereal, essentially disembodied creatures on the other” (10). Essentially, women
during the Victorian era, and subsequently, the Gothic fin de siècle novel, are portrayed as
belonging to one of these ‘creatures’ (i.e., a monstrous and horrific creature or a virtuous ‘Angel
of the house’11). Hurley goes on to argue that the “Gothic served to multiply, and thus
destabilize, the meanings of sexuality,” resulting in “the emergent discipline of sexology, which
could only identify a normative sexuality by itemizing the numerous instances of ‘perversion’
against which it was defined” (11); in other words, the Gothic became obsessed with establishing
a normative and pure sexuality that could be utilized to cast out and label perceived sexual
perversions and impurities in society. Exacerbating this newfound need to establish sexual
normality was the creation and rise in popularity of degeneration theory in Victorian society.
Degenerationism as defined by Hurley, “is a minus narrative, reversing the direction of
ameliorist versions of evolutionism, which proposed natural history as an inevitable progression
towards ‘higher’ and more complex forms, and human history as an inevitable progression
towards a higher and more rarefied state of civilization” (65). As a response to the rising need to

11

“The Angel in the House,” originally a poem by Coventry Patmore (1854), has since developed as a popular
image of the ideal Victorian wife/woman who is completely devoted to her husband and children, ultimately
choosing a life of submissiveness to this patriarchal ideal.

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categorize normative sexuality, Victorian society became increasingly interested in establishing
whether or not their society was, in-fact, degenerating to a less pure form because of their
differing sexualities (i.e., the homosexual or the promiscuous individual). Unlike Darwinism,
which argued that species evolve as a form of progress, degeneration theory “reversed the
narrative of progress, proposing a negative telos of abhumanness and cultural disarray” (65).
Much of the discourse of the Gothic fin de siècle became centred around the relationship
between the human body, sexuality, and its effects on society. Stories of the fin de siècle largely
play into paranoia and fear of societal regression. Many popular stories within the subgenre, such
as, Arthur Machen’s The Great God Pan, Richard Marsh’s The Beetle, and H.G. Wells’ The
Island of Dr. Moreau, drew heavily on these beliefs; oftentimes, stories like the aforementioned
novel by Machen, would centre around the male sexual ego and rising mistrust of feminine
sexuality and purity. Both The Beetle and The Island of Dr. Moreau, demonstrated to their
readers that “urgent rage and sexual desire, the love of hunting and killing, are still as strong in
‘civilized’ humanity as they were in Stone Age peoples,” and that “the civilized person only
keeps these strong emotions in check through the ‘artificial’ devices of social breeding and
education” (Hurley 64), which directly supports this cultural notion of degeneration. In the case
of The Great God Pan, Machen’s story and plot “is typical within the genre in figuring sexuality
as horrific, identity as multiple, the boundary between science and supernaturalism as permeable,
and the ‘normal’ human subject as liable to contamination, affective, moral, and physical, by the
gothicized subject” (13). The antagonist of the story, Helen Vaughan, becomes the direct
manifestation of this ideology and societal fear, becoming a seductress who will bring the
ruination of men and Western society, as a result of her immoral and seemingly monstrous new
sexuality.

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The seductress arguably came as a result of a “nineteenth-century perception of women
as ‘the sex’ – fully constrained within a sexualized identity . . . both corporeal and animalistic –
stand[ing] in contradistinction to Victorian celebrations as a domestic angel” (121). Characters
such as Helen from The Great God Pan or the Beetle from The Beetle, are villainized not only
for their rejection of societal pressure to fulfill their expected societal role (i.e., the domestic
angel), but for their emasculation of the male sexual ego. In Hurley’s deconstruction of the
character of the Beetle, she notes that “[t]he monstrosity of the Gothicized seductress, embodied,
in her avatar of the Beetle, as a hungry and emasculating womb equipped with phallic powers of
penetration, marks a Victorian horror of female sexual appetite” (125-126). Although it could be
very easy to label current body horror filmmakers and films that utilize the trope of the
seductress as an extension or continuation of these beliefs, the intent behind such films as Shivers
and Species, suggests otherwise. Unlike the Victorian Gothic or body horror’s contemporary, the
slasher film, body horror films like Shivers and Species do not portray their seductresses as
harmful to society, instead they suggest that societal values regarding female sexuality is the
element causing a degeneration/stagnation within contemporary society.
Seductresses and Sex
David Cronenberg’s Shivers tells the story of an apartment complex that becomes
overrun by phallic, worm-like creatures who cause their hosts to commit horrific acts of sexual
violence, taboos, and debauchery. Cronenberg’s first feature-length film explores many of the
sexual taboos present in late twentieth-century society, such as: incest, rape, necrophilia,
pedophilia, sexual promiscuousness, and homosexuality, putting them on full display throughout
the film. In his analysis of Cronenberg and his works, William Beard, author of The Artist as
Monster, approaches the “world of Cronenberg’s films . . . in which the boundaries of so many

25

culturally determined categories are routinely transgressed and shattered: sexuality, social
identity, accepted behaviour, finally subjectivity itself” (vii). In regards to Shivers, the
boundaries of what is sexually acceptable in society are pushed to their very limits, particularly
in its display of female sexuality. One of the most important issues Cronenberg’s film addresses
in regards to female sexuality, is the societal conflict concerning sexual liberation as a response
to the sexual revolution. As prominent horror critic Robin Wood states in his essay,
“Cronenberg: A Dissenting View:”
Shivers can be read as Cronenberg’s response to the notion of sexual liberation. As the
parasites proliferate through the apartment building, all the taboos of bourgeois sexual
morality - promiscuity, female aggressiveness, age difference, homosexuality (both male
and female), incest - are systematically overthrown. (245)
It should come as no surprise that mainstream conservative media and critics would outright hate
the film and what it stood for, viewing the film as confirmation that their societal fears regarding
degeneration through sexual perversion was coming to pass (similar beliefs of the Victorian
Gothics). Caelum Vatnsdal, author of They Came From Within, claims the film “was a grotesque
and highly sexualized . . . kick in the pants to Canadian cinema,” further elaborating that
“nothing like it had been seen before, and accordingly, nothing like the ensuing media uproar
had been seen either” (107). Notable conservative critics like Robert Fulford (under the
pseudonym Marshall Delaney), would be highly critical of Cronenberg and the film, citing it as
“a repulsive film Canadians helped pay for” (qtd. in Vatnsdal 108), which helped to spark public
outcry from conservative society, labelling the film as ‘a disgrace.’ From its inception in Shivers
and other early Cronenberg works, the body horror subgenre would be labeled as a disgusting,
sexually charged threat to conservative values and ways of thinking. Notable critical and

26

financial successes within the subgenre, such as Alien and Species, would continue many of the
discussions regarding sexual liberation first presented by Shivers, specifically that of female
representation, their bodies, and their perceived role in society; however, Shivers was critical in
bringing female sexual liberation to the forefront, ensuring that the subgenre would help show
Western conservatives and society as a whole, that women often suffer due to the social
constraints and fear regarding their sexuality.
As a film, Shivers explores repressed sexuality and its effects on the individual and
society. The parasites in the film, are created by an individual named Hobbes (Fred Doederlein),
a doctor who first seeks to heal damaged or failing organs with parasites who could replace and
maintain the function of the organ in its place, but eventually turns his research into developing
the parasites into “a combination of aphrodisiac and venereal disease that will hopefully turn the
world into a beautiful, mindless orgy.” It is Hobbes belief that “Man is an animal that thinks too
much, an over rational animal, that’s lost touch with its body and instincts;” (Shivers) and
therefore, his goal changes to finding a way to bring out the sexual desires in humans that society
has long since repressed. Like Hobbes, the film laments societal fears and taboos regarding
sexuality, urging us as a society to embrace our bodies, and allow our more animalistic urges to
come through more often without the fear of social pressures and repercussions. Although the
ideology of Hobbes is a bit extreme (even he acknowledges the dangers of both the parasites and
unrestrained sexual frenzy, when he kills both Annabelle Brown (Cathy Graham) and himself in
an attempt to rid the world of the parasites), it provides a metaphorical look into the benefits of a
more open and sexually liberated female sex, since in the film, the main female characters ofAnnabelle Brown, Janine Tudor (Susan Petrie), Betts (Barbara Steele), and Nurse Forsythe (Lynn
Lowry), all suffer sexual suppression to varying degrees because of their sex.

27

Although Annabelle’s screen time in the film is short (being murdered within the first 5
minutes), her death ultimately represents the patriarchal position of her sex in regards to sexual
liberation and expression. Her demeanour of ‘aggressive femininity’ (sexually active and
aggressive), represents a behaviour that goes against the established Victorian Gothic (and
contemporary) ‘normative’ sex of the docile and refined woman; she becomes something
monstrous (Hurley 10-11). As one member of the apartment’s management notes, Annabelle was
thought to be a “very civilized young lady” within the complex. Annabelle’s death shows the
audience that there is no place for a sexually liberated woman in this society, and very naively
reinforces Gothic beliefs that women are unable to control their body or sexual urges. On the
other hand, Annabelle’s death represents the hidden duality of one’s sexuality- the outer
appearance of a sexually conservative and ‘civilized’ member of society, and the inner
animalistic sexuality one suppresses for social approval. Nowhere is this truer, than with the
other three seductresses of the film: Janine, Betts, and Nurse Forsythe.
After the film’s opening death scene with Annabelle, the audience is introduced to the
couple, Janine and Nick Tudor (Allan Kolman); the latter is revealed to be cheating on his
partner with the recently deceased Annabelle. Nick is shown to be an emotionally abusive, and
later on physically/sexually abusive husband towards his wife Janine. Despite the abuse she
suffers, Janine remains loyal to her husband, repressing the unfulfilled sexual desire she has with
her best friend and confidant, Betts, for the sake of their marriage. Throughout the film, prior to
becoming infected with the parasite, Janine makes several advances towards Nick, dresses
provocatively, and attempts to engage sexually with him. Despite later becoming a seductress
when she attempts to seduce the protagonist of the film Roger (Paul Hampton) in the climactic
pool scene, Janine has little power until she is infected by the seductress Betts. Shivers’ use of

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the phallic shaped parasites as a metaphor for sexual liberation, conflicts with conservative
values and the perspective of the horror film that a woman’s role in society is to be mothers and
homemakers (an aspect that even patriarchal figures like Nick reject). Although the parasites can
be associated with rape and female oppression through their codified appearance of male
genitalia and subsequent rape imagery, they could also represent male sexual freedom being
passed on to women, since the women attain social acceptance for promiscuous activities similar
to that of male figures like Nick and Hobbes. It is clear that Cronenberg wanted to challenge the
audience’s understanding of perceived sexual roles and the conservative and restrictive values
society places on individuals (such as the institution of marriage), which oftentimes can cause
nothing but misery and sexual frustration, as is the case in the relationship of the Tudors, which
David Sanjek, author of “Dr. Hobbes’s Parasites,” describes as “loveless from the start,”
highlighting Janine being “trapped in her un-satisfactory domestic role with no options other
than slavish obeisance to Nick” (63). This image of domesticity is not too dissimilar to the
Victorian Gothic ‘Angel.’ Betts for her part, never harms anyone in the film, with her only
interest being to obtain the love and affection of her friend in a society that has deemed their love
as immoral, a fact Janine makes clear to the audience by replying, “You can’t be saying that,” in
response towards Betts’ sexual advances. Unlike previous seductresses in Victorian Gothic
literature like Helen and the Beetle, the women in the film never wish to bring the ruination of
men (in the case of Betts, they are not even interested in men); instead they simply seek the love
and affection that their patriarchal partners and society have rejected - - an aspect that is
especially true with the character of Nurse Forsythe.
Forsythe does not fit into the easily definable ‘Final Girl’ (she does not ‘survive’ and
becomes the ‘villain’) or virginal figure so commonly found within the horror film genre, and

29

becomes somewhat reminiscent of seductive Gothic figures like that of Helen in The Great God
Pan; however, unlike these monstrous seductresses, Forsythe has no ulterior agenda or evil plan
to cause the ruination of society or the male patriarchal order. Forsythe and the parasite victims
have merely awakened to a new sexual knowledge, and are simply acting on their newfound
desire. In comparison to the other women in the film, such as Janine, Forsythe does not need the
parasite to act on her sexual desires; indeed, she is obviously not shy in her pursuit of sexual
relationships, nor is she beholden to a dominant male figure looking to take advantage of her.
Lauren Anne Stephens, author of the article “An Exploration of Sexual Transgression and
Psychological Transformation,” points out that “[b]efore the parasite invades the resident’s lives,
they are lacking a liberal attitude to sexual activity” (21); however, Forsythe breaks this norm by
committing a sexual taboo by undressing in the presence of her work superior Roger, prior to the
outbreak. Forsythe never becomes restricted by the moral boundaries of society, and both she
and Janine are ultimately freed by the parasites who “allow[] the characters to engage with their
returning repressed sexual desire” (Stephens 22). In the final pool scene, now free from any
moral boundaries and with the support of a new, sexually liberated society, Forsythe succeeds in
seducing Roger and fulfills “an inversion of the more common pattern of sexually pursuing male
and elusive female” (Beard 42). The “sexuality she represents . . . seems appealing and appalling
in equal measure,” and when combined with Forsythe’s earlier speech concerning a dream about
old flesh and omni-eroticism, Cronenberg’s Shivers cannot help but establish a “‘liberal’
welcome of [sexual] Otherness” (43); this is an aspect that later body horror films such as Alien
and Species would directly be inspired by, and which few film contemporaries like The Texas
Chainsaw Massacre (1974) or Halloween (1978) would aspire towards.

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Species follows the events of a beautiful alien-human hybrid, Sil (Natasha Henstridge),
and a group of scientists tasked with hunting her down before she can reproduce and bring forth
the destruction of humankind through her offspring. As the title suggests, Species calls into
question the audience’s understanding of the human gene pool with its introduction of an
animalistic or foreign entity outside of our biological control. Sil shares many similarities with
that of Nurse Forsythe, since both women become sexual objects for the male audience to gaze at
(i.e., they strip for the audience and are sexually objectified by the camera).12 Both serve as the
dangerous seductress with the ability to corrupt the male figures around them, and both awaken
to their sexual desires through dreams and alien influences; nonetheless, unlike Forsythe who
was strictly motivated by her newfound sexual liberation, Sil is simultaneously influenced by her
sexual liberation, and her biological desires for reproduction. It is without question that Sil is a
seductress in the film, filling a similar Gothic role of the seductive, dangerous female monster as
Forsythe did in Shivers; however, in contrast to Forsythe who craves sex on a personal level, Sil
is only concerned with conceiving a child and finding her place in the world/universe. Despite
craving sex at times, Sil’s cravings usually stem from outside influences, and never from an
internal desire; yet, this does not mean she is not sexually liberated or aware of her body and its
cravings. Her actions never fall into sexual promiscuousness, and thus, Sil is never reduced to
Clover’s ‘slut’ characters of the slasher/monster subgenres.13 In the case of Sil, her yearnings for
a child directly contradicts the desires of the male figures in her life and the male audience who
long to study her and her body (whether that is for science in the case of the scientists or sexual
gratification in the case of the audience). The pursuit of sexual relationships is always initiated
by Sil, who competes and chooses her mates in a predatory fashion. The male suitors she

12
13

See Clover’s introduction, “Carrie and the Boys,” for an overview on male voyeurism in horror cinema.
See Clover’s Chapter, “Her Body, Himself” for more.

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encounters never hold the power in the relationship, and are only provided with power and
control when Sil deems it as a means to lure them and lower their guard.
Sil’s body and motives are used by the filmmakers as a means to critique the social
boundaries enforced upon women by the patriarchal order. In their analysis of the films: Ginger
Snaps (2000), Deadgirl (2008), and Jennifer’s Body (2009), Deborah Wills and Toni Roberts,
authors of “Desiring Monsters," critique the representation of ravenous hunger within female
body horror ‘villains’ in regards to sex and traditional appetites. Wills and Roberts argue that the
body is “a social construct and social product,” and in the case of female horror film villains,
their “hunger, voracious, insatiable, and unrestrained, speaks to the social demand for female
bodies to be disciplined, cautious, and restrained in their desires” (9). Similarly, to the
protagonists in Wills’ and Roberts’ critique, Sil’s desire for sex is likened to monstrous and
uncontrollable hunger in the film when the bounty hunter assigned to hunting down Sil, Preston
(Michael Madsen), remarks that “Our girl is definitely not on a diet” after discovering the food
waste she left behind in her cabin next to the body of a dead train conductor. Not only is Sil’s
appetite directly compared to that of ravenous, inhuman hunger, but the connotation that she is
defiling her expected gender role of the fit and self-controlled female, directly conflicts with her
gender’s expected social boundaries. The male characters and audience, therefore, begin to
regard Sil as more than an innocent child/woman, and more as a dangerous threat to the
established order. After evolving into a full-grown woman, Sil is presented to the audience
through the science team’s dialogue and her visual appearance as the typical virgin figure:
adorned in white, sexy, naïve, and vulnerable. Pete Falconer in his essay “Dissecting the Horror
Movie Virgin,” claims that “[w]ithout a definite connection to the interior states they purport to
represent, outward appearances can be deceiving,” and that “monstrosity frequently conceals

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itself beneath a façade of innocence, beauty, or normality” (126); therefore, it is very easy to
argue that despite her appearance, Sil is a monstrous figure in the film. Her seductive qualities
and ability to lure the men she sexually craves is very reminiscent of Nurse Forsythe in Shivers
and the Gothic villainesses she was based upon, but in contrast to Forsythe, Sil’s desires for sex
are far more complex. The film implies that her cravings for sex are not her own. During many
of the film’s dream sequences, Sil is telepathically sent visions of herself having sex with another
member of her species in her true, alien form, which cause her to awake in a panicked state of
fear. In addition to the many TV adverts and programs she watches that focus on the traits that
make the females of the human species attractive (e.g., long blonde hair, skinny bodies, big
breasts, etc.) on their desires regarding sex, Sil’s fears and misunderstandings towards sex are
directly misconstrued by societal expectations (both alien and human). Sil is simultaneously told
that society wants her to reproduce and bear a child (i.e., the alien stand-in for conservative
values), while also being told by advertisements and the first men she encounters, that her only
value is her appearance and ability to satisfy the sexual needs of men, thus highlighting a human
paradox of sex and the human body being bad or harmful when the reproductive aspects are also
presented as the most important function for humanity as a species. According to Stephen Prince,
author of “Dread, Taboo, and The Thing,” “horror films are interpreted as the manifestation of
psychic processes,” and “[t]he films tend to be regarded as projections or displacements of fears
or as signifiers of a cultural state of mind” (118); therefore, it is likely Species is addressing the
paradoxical state of mind contemporary women find themselves in – that of being wanted and
desired for their sexual qualities from a cultural standpoint, while being simultaneously
admonished for their natural biological functions/desires.

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Unlike the female protagonists of traditional slasher films like the aforementioned Texas
Chainsaw Massacre and Halloween who fit a conservative mindset of the good, righteous, and
pure virgin figure (i.e., the Angel in the house, or Final Girl), seductresses like Forsythe, Janine,
and Sil, are far from sexually reluctant, perhaps better fitting into the contrasting belief presented
by Falconer of the monstrous façade, (e.g., Sil using her beauty to deceive and lure unsuspecting
victims to their demise); however, one must recognize the body horror subgenre’s attempts to
highlight the external social pressures and expectations that either influence or enforce one’s
sexual personality; (e.g., the patriarchal society in Shivers expecting women to act ‘civilized’ or
both Sil’s alien and human societies providing her with both subliminal and direct messaging
that they expect her to reproduce and become a loving mother, despite conflicting personal
aspirations). The internal monster concealing itself behind such a façade is not without its merits,
as both the films Alien and Species show the audience that indeed beauty can hide the beast, but
these ‘monstrous’ mothers are often the result of male perceptions of the female body (i.e.,
sexual objects whose bodies carry the capacity for monstrous reproductive growth), and the
subsequent societal fear such a connection has to the animalistic or ‘uncivilized’ world.
In Utero: The Origins of the Monstrous Mother Trope in Body Horror
Monstrous mothers refers to what I believe is the representation and portrayal of
motherhood and the female reproductive cycle as a vile and grotesque system that is feared and
deemed disgusting by all members of society- at least according to patriarchal society. The
societal fear of the female body and its reproductive cycles, stems from the Gothic fin de siècle
and the period’s theories regarding degeneration. According to Hurley, a prominent cultural
belief of the Victorian period was the notion that women were identified as entities who were
defined and entrapped in their bodies; as opposed to men, who were rational and able to

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transcend their embodiment (119).14 Subsequently, women became solely defined by their bodies
in the Gothic fin de siècle, and later, the horror genre as a whole. This dangerous mindset
reinforced the belief that women were “incomplete human subjects,” and only “partially evolved
from the state of animalism” (119); furthermore, “the disorders of the female body were
inextricably linked to the female reproductive system, so that female sexuality emerged as both
casual and symptomatic of female abhumanness” (120). The duality of the female body and
spirit, represents a stark contrast between the perceived domestic angel, and the disembodied,
ravenous, and unnatural creatures of both the seductresses and monstrous mothers (121), with
figures such as the Beetle embodying the fear of female sexual appetite through the horrifying
imagery of the “emasculating womb equipped with phallic powers of penetration” (125).
Due to the popularity of these contrasting depictions of women, horror film, (specifically,
body horror), continues to adapt and modernize these traditions into such figures as the ‘Final
Girl’ or ‘monstrous mother’ from its origins in the figures of the ‘Angel’ and emasculating
feminine predator of the fin de siècle. Body horror filmmakers, such as Cronenberg, adapted and
expanded upon the predatory, emasculating feminine sexual predator of the Gothic, transforming
her into the monstrous mother figure of contemporary horror film. Shivers introduced audiences
to female empowerment through the phallic parasites, while Cronenberg’s The Brood (1979)
would ironically, present to his viewers that although women can gain empowerment over men
through the very act of pregnancy and/or birth, they perhaps should not; The Brood provides a
case study into the harmful manipulation/damage such figures can have on their children (e.g.,
Nola (Samantha Eggar) using her children to manipulate and harm members of patriarchal

14

It should be noted that this is not a Victorian innovation as Genevieve Lloyd, author of “Reason, Gender, and
Morality in the History of Philosophy,” presents the idea that women are incapable of rational thought as a belief
held as far back in history as the Greeks (see Lloyd’s essay for more).

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society), which admittedly is a very narrow minded and cynical portrayal of motherhood,15 but
one that is in-line with the Gothic mistrust of the female internal spirit because of its connection
to the animalistic world. As Barbara Creed elaborates, the “woman’s womb is viewed as
horrifying . . . because of its essential functions – it houses an alien life form, it causes alterations
in the body, it leads to the act of birth” (49); however, unlike the questionable motives behind
Nola in The Brood, other body horror films, such as Alien and Species are notable for
challenging societal stigmas in regards to the female reproductive system and birthing process;
ultimately, they present their viewers with the opinion that patriarchal discourse/pressures and
societal fear are to blame for negative perceptions of the female body and its natural processes,
not some internalized devious feminine hunger for the ruination of men and society like the
Victorian Gothic informed ideas of contemporary society would make one believe.
Monstrous Mothers
Alien is a 1979 horror film directed by Ridley Scott that focuses on a group of survivors
who unwillingly bring a deadly alien life form aboard their ship. Alien shares many thematic
similarities with Shivers, mainly in its presentation of a sexual ‘Other’ in the guise of its alien
creature the Xenomorph, and its exploration of sexual taboos regarding female sexuality and the
body. In an interview for the Vestron Blu Ray release of Shivers entitled, Mind over Matter,
Cronenberg claims that “it was true that one of the writers of Alien knew his films quite well,”
but he refrains from saying that the ideas from his film were stolen, although he acknowledges
the possibility.16 The documentary, Memory: The Origins of Alien, almost confirms this
likelihood when the wife of Dan O’Bannon, admits that her husband took inspiration from low-

This is likely the result of Cronenberg’s well-documented and messy divorce/custody battle with his ex-wife.
The same Blu Ray release contains an “Archival 1998 Interview” with Cronenberg, where he confirms that
screenwriter for Alien, Dan O’Bannon, had seen Shivers and was inspired by his work.
15
16

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budget foreign horror films while writing the screenplay. Although this inspiration will likely
never be proven for certain, one cannot help but notice the parallels between Cronenberg’s and
O’Bannon’s creatures, and each film’s exploration of sexual taboos with its female characters.
Like Shivers, Alien has moved past what John Edgar Browning argues is the Classical
Hollywood horror film style of fear regarding the foreign ‘Other’ (226), and is now focused
largely on societal degradation caused by unwanted sexual taboos and deviancy as a direct result
of the sexual revolution (in accordance with both Browning and feminist critics like Creed and
Clover); however, unlike Shivers and its rejection of traditional motherhood and reproduction,
Alien is more concerned about questioning the role women have as maternal figures, instead of
their sexual liberation through the removal of moral boundaries.
Birthing imagery and the female form was a main focus for the creators of Alien. The
Making of Alien by J.W. Rinzler, confirms that Scott, O’Bannon, and H.R. Giger (concept artist)
approved a “breast-shaped silo” for the alien structure, and agreed that the ‘Facehugger’ (first
form of the Xenomorph with their lifecycle), “needed more alterations, as did the eggs, which
Scott wanted more organic-looking and vaginal” (104). It is clear through early discussions such
as this, that the imagery of motherhood and the reproductive cycle of women was a focus during
the development of the film. This aspect can easily be seen within the ship the Nostromo, and the
alien vessel, since both contain vaginal like structures and corridors, with the latter having
additional organic substances and vaginal-like ridges covering the walls. Beyond this, the
Nostromo’s computer AI is referred to as ‘Mother’ by the crewmates, and becomes a pseudoparental figure for the crew. Similar to mothers in the animal kingdom, Mother births her
children into an alien world (in this case, awakening the crew from their womb-like crytostasis
structures), cares for and nourishes the crew, and eventually releases them into an alien world

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beyond her protective grasps. In her text The Monstrous-Feminine, feminist critic Barbara Creed,
argues that “crucial to Alien . . . is the figure of the mother, in the guise of the archaic mother;”
further clarifying that “[t]he archaic mother is the pathenogenetic mother, the mother as
primordial abyss, the point of origin and of end” (17). As the film progresses and the alien
creature begins to grow in strength, the crew eventually learns that the paternal figure of the
company (a stand-in for the male, patriarchal figure of the crew’s pseudo-father), informs
Mother, and subsequently their children, that they are all ‘expendable’ in lieu of the company’s
(i.e., father’s) financial goals. According to Robert Torry, author of “Awakening to the Other,”
Mother’s “evil manifests itself most significantly through her betrayal of her ‘children,’ her
crew,” after she disregards the safety and needs of her children in an act between the parents to
direct their crew/children “toward their fatal engagement with the Other to which they will be
sacrificed” (349). Comparable to other body horror films like Cronenberg’s The Brood, the
figure of Mother is revealed to be a negative element in their children’s lives. She is a sexual
female ‘Other,’ breaking all taboos of the dutiful and unconditionally loving mother, and
becoming what Lynda Zwinger, author of “Blood Relations,” refers to as “gender monstrosity”
(78); ultimately, alluding to Creed’s aforementioned argument of the archaic mother as the point
of origin and end.
It has become largely accepted in society that the mother has unconditional love for her
child, and is “ostensibly grounded in biological certitude;” therefore, society deems that
“motherhood is constructed by and for and in a discourse which persists in trying to keep ‘bad’
behavior out of it” (Zwinger 78). The horror film utilizes this “mythological figure of the woman
as the source of all life,” and “reconstruct[s] and re-present[s] [her] as a negative figure . . .
which threatens to reabsorb what it once birthed” (Creed 27). In the case of Mother, she becomes

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a similar figure to that of other ‘bad’ body horror mothers: a manipulative and dangerous
monster who uses her children for her own nefarious needs, such as Nola in The Brood. On the
other hand, perhaps Alien is suggesting that motherhood is not an inherently negative thing, nor
are women monstrous because they become mothers. As Ripley (Sigourney Weaver) shows the
audience in her treatment of Jones (a cat living aboard the Nostromo), motherhood is not
inherently evil. She adopts Jones, provides protection and affection towards her pseudo-child,
revealing a more “humane and maternal side to her nature” (Torry 354), and motherhood in
general; however, it is more likely that Ripley’s position as the heroine of the story is used as a
means to support the social assumption that motherhood is this mythological figure of good and
purity, not too dissimilar to that of the virgin figure. In the case of Ripley from the Alien
franchise, motherhood is shown to be this pure, protective instinct that cannot be ignored or
tainted by outside factors. Throughout the series, Ripley ‘adopts’ pseudo-children: Jones the cat,
Newt (Carrie Henn) from Aliens (1986), and the impregnated Xenomorph embryo in Alien 3
(1992), protecting them from both human and alien forces/threats. The Xenomorph facehugger’s
phallic impregnating mouth and physical assault could be viewed as a feminist critique of rape
victims who are pressured by society to abort such pregnancies, denying women the right to
choose what they do with their bodies, resulting in victim blaming/shaming. Despite being
unsuccessful in the protection of Newt and the Xenomorph embryo in Alien 3, the Alien
franchise, much like Ash (Ian Holm) in his reference to the Xenomorph in Alien, ‘admires the
purity’ of this natural instinct for survival; however, this intent, which is an inherently positive
representation of motherhood unlike the cynical portrayals in Cronenberg’s works, notably
ignores the male perspective on the actual reproductive and birthing process, due to Ripley only
adopting her children. As later films within the body horror subgenre like Species show, the

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question of purity and intent behind motherhood is not always the focus of the body horror
narrative, nor is it strictly regarded in a positive manner by the male audience and characters,
rather it can be the male fear of the female reproductive process and its ‘alien’ nature which
becomes the key element in constructing the female sexual ‘Other.’
The Alien franchise’s influence on Species cannot be overstated, as the featurette “The
Making of Species” makes it clear that the studio behind the film (MGM) very much wanted a
science fiction monster film in the vein of Alien, and with the addition of Giger as the creature
designer on both a conceptual and visual design level, Species could be considered a spiritual
successor to the Alien franchise which had temporarily gone dormant after the release of Alien 3
in 1992. Both films focus on an invasive species that addresses humanity’s existential dread
concerning our beliefs that we might not be the dominant species in the universe; -both deal with
birthing imagery and the reproductive cycle, and both films are heavily influenced by H.R. Giger
and his bizarre and alien interpretation of the female form and its reproductive capabilities.
However, unlike the Alien franchise which focuses more on an entity with an uncertain gender or
sex (the Xenomorph creature has never officially received a definitive classification in this
regard), Species focuses on a more traditional figure of the heterosexual female creature, Sil. The
audience and scientists very early on learn that Sil was chosen to be female “so that it would be
more docile and controllable,” a stark reminder of the perceived social position women hold in
society. When the scientists, led by the patriarchal and sexist figure of Dr. Fitch (Ben Kingsley),
learn that Sil’s femininity cannot be controlled, they immediately seek to destroy her. Sil’s power
ultimately lies in her ability to reproduce, and so it becomes the sole focus of the team to hunt
her down and destroy her. Although the characters in the film are not solely disgusted by the
concept of pregnancy, they are horrified by the possible outcomes of her species’ birthing

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process (mainly the possibility she could birth hundreds, if not thousands of offspring within a
very short period). One of the scientists, Dr. Stephen Arden (Alfred Molina), informs the group
that Sil is a predatory species; she is introduced into the closed ecosystem of Los Angeles (LA),
and therefore, the extinction of the weaker species (in this case humans) is inevitable; thus, the
scientists use this ecological threat of an invasive predatory species as the excuse for
exterminating her. Sil’s pregnancy represents the horrifying link “to the animal world and to the
great cycle of birth, decay and death,” and its “links to nature reminds man of his mortality and
the fragility of the symbolic order” (Creed 47). Not only does this strike fear into the audience
through a means of existential dread, but it also, very effectively, symbolizes the fragile male ego
and its insecurities towards the reproductive capabilities of the female form to usurp power.
In comparison to her villainous counterparts (i.e., Forsythe, Janine, the Xenomorph, and
Nola), Sil is in the unique position of shifting roles from the seductress to the monstrous
mother;17 and as a result, her character in Species directly pushes against expected boundaries.
Although the empath Dan (Forest Whitaker) tends to suggest to both his male peers and the
audience that Sil is motivated personally through her emotions and desires for love and
understanding, not just her sexual desires, most of the men reject any consideration of Sil’s
internal state, resulting in her transformation into the monstrous mother at the time of her
pregnancy. This monstrous transformation comes as a result of her rejection of the societal
boundary that beautiful women must be attractive sexual objects designed for pleasure; and
despite Sil’s visual rejection of her attractive qualities by cutting and dyeing her hair while also
wearing less attractive clothes in her day to day life, it is not until Sil’s unrelenting pursuit and

All of Sil’s counterparts either fit into the category of seductress or monstrous mother with no overlap; e.g., they
are only one of these female ‘creatures,’ not both.
17

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conception of a child that she finally turns into the monstrous figure of the story as a direct result
of her rejection of societal pressures. Despite the film literally transforming Sil into a monster
(i.e., her true, alien form) at the time of her pregnancy as a means to villainize her, Sil becomes
more powerful and confident at the time of pregnancy and is able to take on anyone who would
dare harm her or her child; (i.e., she finally engages with her patriarchal pursuers, instead of
hiding), unlike other pregnant monsters like Nola from The Brood who utilizes her children as a
means to defend herself. Regardless of the fact that she no longer elicits any evidence of sexual
appetite or hunger, and conforming to her newfound societal boundary of the dutiful, protective
mother, Sil (regardless of her position as the unwilling monster) is punished for- blending the
boundaries between men and women by adopting typical male traits of strength and dominance,
for her connections to the ‘animal world’ through the unwanted association of birth imagery
(something the character of Ripley directly avoided for the majority of the franchise), and for her
tainting the notion that attractive women should not have children because it ruins their beauty,
and transforms them into monstrous and unrecognizable creatures. The evolution of the motherly
monster from manipulative and harmful in Alien and The Brood to a dutiful, yet reviled in
Species, highlights one of the many contradictory positions of patriarchal boundaries regarding
female bodies and societal roles within the body horror subgenre.
Body Horror’s Seductresses and Monstrous Mothers as Progressive Discourse
The body horror subgenre of film presents a unique perspective on the importance
patriarchal society places on female sexuality, its form, and reproductive processes. Typically in
horror films, female monsters are usually grouped into one of two categories: seductresses or
monstrous mothers- becoming either sexual objects to conquer, or monstrous figures about to
bring ruination to men and society as a whole. Although the subgenre has taken much of its

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inspiration from its Gothic fin de siècle literary influences, body horror tends to present a more
progressive perspective on women through its deconstruction of the female sexual ‘Other,’ and
its dichotomous portrayal of female monsters. The films: Shivers, Alien, and Species, all present
their female ‘monsters’ as victims of social/sexual taboos, and patriarchal discourse and
classification.
Shivers examines the importance society places on social and sexual taboos, while
critiquing conservative values (such as the institution of marriage) that hinder the sexual
liberation of women. The character of Nurse Forsythe rejects the horror genre’s notion of the
‘Final Girl,’ adopting a sexually dominant position of power over the patriarchal society she
inhabits; additionally, in contrast to other seductresses from the Victorian Gothic and
contemporary slasher horror subgenre, Forsythe’s pursuit of sexual freedom and satisfaction
comes from personal desires and newfound knowledge, rather than from a desire to bring the
ruination of society and the male order. The characters of Janine, Betts, and Annabelle are
presented as figures who suffer greatly because of the societal expectations they are expected to
fulfill, as the dutiful and civilized woman who must be subservient to the male patriarchal order.
Most importantly, Cronenberg’s film represents the female sexual ‘Other’ as a negative
consequence of society’s outdated conservative values towards sexuality and taboos.
Alien expands upon Cronenberg’s liberal values towards the sexual female ‘Other,’ and
uses it as a critique of the genre’s portrayal of the monstrous mother figure. The film uses its
monstrous mother, the AI ‘Mother,’ and its thematic womb/birthing imagery to establish
motherhood as this dreaded and ‘alien’ concept which men should treat with caution and fear. On
the other hand, Alien takes issue with the notion that motherhood is an inherently negative
influence on a child’s life, presenting the Mother AI as more of an accomplice than an aggressor

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in the patriarchal desires of its society and male father-figure of the company; furthermore, the
character of Ripley and her ‘pure’ instincts of survival and self-sacrifice through the unrelenting
desire to protect her pseudo-children, demonstrates an inherent, albeit naïve understanding of
motherhood throughout the film and franchise (one that is largely accepted by the male voyeur
because of its lack of connection to actual birth, and its subsequent negative, animalistic
connotations).
Finally, Species presents its female sexual ‘Other’ Sil, as both a seductress and monstrous
mother who will figuratively and literally bring about the ruination of society and the male
patriarchal order. Unlike previous seductresses who act on their own desires, whether that be the
ruination of men in the case of Helen in The Great God Pan or sexual desires towards a man in
the case of Nurse Forsythe in Shivers, Sil’s actions are largely influenced by society and the male
figures in her life that wish to dominate her and keep her within the female boundary as an object
of sexual objectification. Her rejection of said boundaries, and unrelenting pursuit of conceiving
and giving birth to a child, transforms her into a literal monster in the eyes of the male characters
in the film and its audience. Although the character of Dan (Forest Whitaker) and the film as a
whole attempts to establish that Sil simply longs for love and acceptance, Species still presents
the idea of motherhood as an unnatural threat to the established male order, something the film
shares in common with the Alien franchise. Sil’s character represents one of many contradictions
regarding the female sexual ‘Other,’ since even when she conforms to societal boundaries by
being a dutiful and ‘pure’ mother in comparison to figures like Nola and the ‘Mother’ AI, she is
still punished for her associations to the animal world and the existential feelings of insecurity
her character may instill in male viewers.

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Each of these films helps to establish the many contradictions and rejection of typical
patriarchal societal roles and boundaries for women in regards to their bodies and position as
sexual ‘Others.’ The progression of the Gothic horror and contemporary notion that female
villains are more than just seductresses and monstrous beings/mothers acting on their own selfish
needs, reveals a more progressive trend in body horror film to show the constructed female
sexual ‘Other’ as an unwanted consequence of patriarchal beliefs and constructs. These
patriarchal beliefs and constructs are designed to oppress women and present them as an
unwelcome, animalistic threat to our society. These films emphasize the societal pressures and
damage such patriarchal beliefs and constructs can have on women both physically and
psychologically; this impact includes Janine’s experience of abuse, Ripley’s ‘rape’ by the
Xenomorph facehugger and having to deal with the psychological consequences of an unwanted
pregnancy in Alien 3, and Sil’s negative perceptions regarding her body and role in society, due
to her societal values and fears of motherhood conflicting with the patriarchal media and
perceptions of women as sexual objects. Throughout the evolution of works by Cronenberg,
Scott, and Donaldson, one can see how the subgenre of body horror attempts to address many of
the criticisms of sexism in horror film raised by feminist critics such as Creed and Clover, by
addressing and dismantling the social/sexual taboos and boundaries women face as sexual
objects of desire and disgust.

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46

Chapter Two: Emerging Disgust: Body Horror Film and the Homosexual/Sexual ‘Other’
The Gothic Fin de Siècle Homosexual/Sexual ‘Other’ through the Lens of Degeneration
Theory
If Gothic Victorian fin de siècle authors historically portrayed the female form and
personality as morally corruptible and potentially problematic for society, then the homosexual
and sexual ‘Other’ (i.e., members of the LGBTQ+ community) are unquestionably morally
corrupt and problematic for society, according to conservative beliefs and degeneration theory.
As previously addressed in Chapter One, “[t]he Gothic seemed at times to reinforce normative
sexuality by representing such behaviours as aggressive femininity and homosexuality as
monstrous and abhorrent” (Hurley 10-11). Sexual contagions,18 such as the homosexual, were
viewed by most Victorian degenerationists as the cause of widespread societal degradation which
had the potential to destroy an entire culture (69). The belief that cultural contagions19 were the
direct result of sexual deviancy, made the homosexual a direct threat to their society. It was
believed that the homosexual could cause pollutants to be released into the environment simply
by the ‘unnatural’ acts they committed; furthermore, it seems likely that most degenerationists
believed that this behaviour would cause future corruption in any offspring they would produce
if they engaged in heterosexual relationships afterwards. Seemingly, without these beliefs
playing such a crucial part into understanding why the homosexual and sexual ‘Other’ was
deemed as dangerous in regards to degeneration theory, one might assume that heterosexual

18

Deviant sexual behaviour, such as: “masturbation, homosexuality, [or] any sexual activity . . . besides ‘normal’
intercourse within Christian matrimony” (72).
19
Cultural contagion is “a vicious circle of causes and effects, a poisonous society (locus of both environmental and
moral contaminants) infected the individual, the individual passed the infection to its offspring, and the degenerate
offspring reinfected society” (69). In other words, pollutants caused by sexual contagions (sexual deviants and
undesirables) in society, which infected both the environment and genes of a society.

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women or men engaging in promiscuous behaviour would be the sole threat of societal
degradation. This is likely because heterosexual relationships have the ability to reproduce,
whereas, a homosexual relationship cannot directly. However, cultural and social contagion
theory argued that, not only did homosexual and sexual ‘Others’ degrade society by merely
existing within it, but they also carried the ability to cause degradation through reproduction 20 if
they did so after the fact.
The disdain for the homosexual oftentimes came as a result of the highly conservative
and religious Western Victorian society. Degeneration not only compared undesirables and
sexual contaminants like women and homosexuals to the animal world and primitive societies
because of their ‘regression,’21 but also deemed them monstrous and perverted because of their
transgressions towards God. Only ‘normal’ intercourse that took place within a state of Christian
matrimony for the sole sake of reproduction was deemed socially acceptable and beneficial for
society; therefore, the homosexual was oftentimes labelled as being a “sexual invert,” with
varying degrees of ailments and negative behaviour, such as insanity, alcoholism, and disease;22
oftentimes, this leads to them being cast out or mistreated by society. Homosexuals, like other
sexual and racial outcasts and pollutants, created public fear in a populace already reeling from
feelings of unrest caused by vast social and national changes (both at home and abroad), and as a
result, made the working class and individual expendable so that the ‘health’ of the nation as a
whole could be emphasized.23 It is not surprising that homosexuals became neglected and
ostracized within Victorian society at the time; they were likely viewed as scapegoats for the

20

I have left out heterosexual as a means to describe reproduction here, as it is possible for biological reproduction
to take place between the male and female sexes regardless of sexual orientation, despite what some Victorians
would believe.
21
See Hurley p. 64.
22
See Hurley p. 68 for a detailed description.
23
See Hurley p. 70.

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Nation’s troubles; however, this neglect and victimization of the homosexual would result in
them being pushed increasingly further towards the fringes of society. Most importantly, the
Gothic fin de siècle and degeneration theory demonstrates the inherent prejudiced position that
conservative/patriarchal society has towards this minority group and the religious fervour aimed
at homosexuals for their perceived harm and damage to Western society’s moral and genetic
progress. These are all aspects that the body horror subgenre would readdress and challenge a
century later.
Victimizing the Monstrous: The Fly, the Homosexual, and the AIDS Crisis of the 1980s
The Fly is a 1986 remake directed by David Cronenberg, based on the 1958 film of the
same name. The film’s events centre on a brilliant scientist, Seth Brundle (Jeff Goldblum), who
develops a machine capable of teleporting objects. Unfortunately, Seth ends up fusing his DNA
with that of a housefly trapped with him in a telepod or teleportation device. Slowly, over the
course of the film, his body begins to transform into that of a human-fly hybrid or what Seth
dubs ‘Brundlefly.’ The Fly can be viewed as a modern take on The Island of Dr. Moreau and the
consequences of scientific experimentation which involves playing God with creation of new life
(i.e., the hybridization of humanity with other beings in the case of The Fly). Despite presenting
a seemingly conservative religious view that transgressions against God will be punished through
disease and death, The Fly never portrays Brundlefly as an inherently evil monster, instead
opting to create sympathy in the viewer by victimizing the monster’s circumstances and pain.
Throughout Seth’s journey and transformation into becoming Brundlefly, Cronenberg makes
significant effort in creating empathy for Seth’s plight by establishing a romantic relationship
with journalist Veronica (Ronnie) Quaife (Geena Davis), and showing both the painful and
emotional hardships Seth faces as a result of his degenerating disease (e.g., losing his fingernails

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or his breakup with Ronnie). In comparison to the original film or Gothic fin de siècle narratives
like The Beetle or Bram Stoker’s The Lair of the White Worm, which focus more on the
monsters, The Fly does more than present the monsters at a superficial level, and instead focuses
on the psychological and physical damages such a monstrous being would face. In an interview
for “The Making of The Fly,” Geena Davis makes clear what Cronenberg’s true intentions of the
film are:
As David [Cronenberg] explained it at one point, that if you substituted cancer for turning
into a fly, then it’s kinda a serious drama about your loved one turn[ing] into something
else, and you can see them deteriorate before [your] eyes.
Despite addressing the disease as cancerous in nature, critical analyses of the film have since
argued that the film was addressing the AIDS crisis of the 1980s.24 It seems probable that
because of Cronenberg’s tendency for his films to be “described and interpreted as depicting the
human body in crisis” (Ernest Mathijs 31) that many critics have decided to deem the film as a
direct response to the AIDS epidemic; however, William Beard addresses this association in his
analysis of the film:
A number of commentators have maintained that Seth’s ‘disease’ strongly suggests
AIDS. Certainly it is difficult to ignore the connection of liberated, and then frantic,
singles’ sexual activity followed by a slowly wasting fatal disease with AIDS – especially
in a film released in 1986. Cronenberg himself, confronted with the interpretation,
usually says that it’s not his own, and points genially to the sexual ‘diseases’ filling his
works back to Shivers (well before the arrival of AIDS), as well as to syphilis as a

24

See Mathijs for academic origins of The Fly as a reflection of the AIDS disease and crisis of the 1980s (The
Introduction of AIDS References in Cronenberg Criticism).

50

centuries-old scourge that to an even greater extent deprived its sufferers of their
identities. (218)25
Regardless of intent, Cronenberg’s disease in The Fly still accomplishes three things:
1. Creating empathy in the viewer for the monster.
2. Encouraging public discussion of disease, specifically sexual.
3. Addressing the social stigma of those suffering from sexual diseases.
It is because of these three reasons that Cronenberg’s The Fly can be analyzed as an allegorical
representation of the AIDS crisis and the Gay community of the 1980s, due to its public and
critical perception of it being so. Far more important than the original intent of the film’s disease
as a metaphor for other sexual diseases or cancer is the public/critical discourse it encouraged in
regards to the AIDS epidemic and need for social change.
The Fly’s association with the AIDS epidemic because of academic and critical analyses,
“generated worldwide media attention, making references to the disease not only legitimate but
even necessary in writings on culture,” which had a knock-on effect that caused “many reviews
of The Fly [referencing] . . . AIDS in discussing the physical decay of scientist Seth Brundle . . .
and the sexual and cultural origins of the disease” (Mathijs 33). After “reviews of The Fly
suggest[ed] that the film itself is an AIDS metaphor” (34), public and critical opinion on the film
began to demonstrate a significant association between the film and the disease; and, therefore, it
is not only possible that the film influenced public opinion on the disease and its victims, but
likely did according to Mathijs’s analysis. Harry M. Benshoff’s seminal work on the homosexual
figure in horror film, Monsters in the Closet, acknowledges that “[t]he AIDS crisis, which has
25

Beard goes on to claim that it’s his belief that it’s likely another sexual disease or cancer which is the disease of
focus for Cronenberg (p. 218).

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spurred Christian compassion from some quarters, has also significantly fueled the ‘homosexual
as monster’ rhetoric: now more than ever, gay men are contagions” (2). It is commonly accepted
that many fringe and right wing religious and conservative members of 1980s society (and even
our own alt right population in contemporary society), view AIDS as God’s retribution towards
the LGBTQ+ community with AIDS oftentimes being referred to as the ‘Gay Plague,’ among
other names. Benshoff claims that some of these groups even framed homosexuals as “violent,
degraded monsters and their evil agenda is to destroy the very fabric of American society” (2).
This is not surprising, considering the rhetoric being employed echoes that of the Victorians and
their beliefs on syphilis, making the similar mistake of associating disease with one’s sexuality
(i.e., homosexuality). As Benshoff makes clear
The multiple social meanings of the words ’monster’ and ‘homosexual’ are seen to
overlap to varying but often high degrees. Certain sectors of the population still relate
homosexuality to bestiality, incest, necrophilia, sadomasochism, etc. – the very stuff of
classical Hollywood monster movies. The concepts ‘monster’ and ‘homosexual’ share
many of the same semantic charges and arouse many of the same fears about sex and
death. (3)
The Gothic influence on early Hollywood film and the popularity of horror films and figures,
such as the often homosexually codified creature of Dracula and his minion of vampires,
certainly help establish the monstrous homosexual figure of the horror film as an evil entity that
threatens society. Projecting these fears onto such monsters, allows certain members of society to
alleviate and project their own misunderstandings/misgivings concerning the homosexual onto
these horrific figures, which would not be difficult to do considering their monstrous appearance,
apparent lack of humanity, and cruel/harmful behaviour. Despite religious and conservative

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patriarchal beliefs and the well documented slow response of the Reagan administration in
bringing relief to AIDS victims and properly educating the public due to the fear of negative
public opinion,26 AIDS and the homosexual became one of the greatest public health concerns of
the late twentieth century. Due to the public and critical association of The Fly with AIDS, the
film becomes an important case study into not only societal fears regarding deadly diseases, but
the fear regarding monstrous homosexual figures – an aspect which demands re-evaluation.
Seth Brundle’s transformation into Brundlefly is a slow, painful process that takes place
over the course of the film, allowing the audience to empathize with Seth and his situation to a
greater degree than most typical monster transformations, such as that of a zombie or vampire.
Seth’s relationship with Ronnie also helps humanize the character, and despite the eventual
failure of their relationship and Seth’s descent into madness, most audience members will likely
care for Seth and the romantic core of the film. Seth’s transformation into Brundlefly is the key
aspect that seems to attract the association of the film with AIDS. The earlier stages of the
disease, highlight Seth as a weak, frail being, with his appearance containing many of the
debilitating physical features of the AIDS virus: lesions, paleness, and loss of weight/hair;
furthermore, the sexual hunger Seth experiences during the transformation is directly linked to
the AIDS disease because of the primary and most common form of contracting the virus –
unprotected sex. It is because of this association that the film manages to explore the notion of
‘normal,’ or more importantly, conservative Christian notions of sexual behaviour, by
dismantling the Gothic notion that impure sexual activity causes disease and cultural contagion.
Simply, the film never directly connects the disease with sexual activity (albeit a separate fear
Ronnie has regarding childbirth); instead, The Fly utilizes sex as a means of relief and pleasure

26

See Rachel Kahn Best’s article: “Disease Politics and Medical Research Funding.”

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for those experiencing pain or suffering, while also criticizing more ‘traditional’ sexual
relationships deemed socially acceptable by society (i.e., heterosexual, monogamous sex) – an
aspect that Cronenberg wishes to deconstruct as evident in the discussion of Shivers in this
thesis. For example, Seth’s impassioned speech towards Ronnie after she rejects his attempts at
forcing her to enter the teleporter, exemplifies Cronenberg’s critique on traditional and/or marital
sexual relationships and experiences:
I’ll bet you think you woke me up about the flesh don’t you? But you only know
society’s straight line about the flesh. You can’t penetrate beyond society’s sick, gray
fear of the flesh. Drink deep or taste not the plasma spring! See what I’m saying. I’m not
just talking about sex and penetration. I’m talking about penetration beyond the veil of
the flesh – as deep, penetrating dive into the plasma pool. (The Fly)
Not only does the message here argue that conservative society has become disassociated with
their own bodies (a similar argument made in Shivers and other body horror films dealing with
sexual liberation), but Seth’s speech also hints at a greater understanding of the body as a
‘temple;’ whereby, people can achieve a metaphysical connection with their genetic make-up
and, in a way, disconnect themselves from the social constructs that have come to define one’s
sexuality. Similar to Dr. Hobbes, Seth becomes more aware of his sexuality and the harms
societal constraints have had on his desires.
Disregarding the fact that the film was never intended to be about the AIDS crisis, its
aforementioned critical and public perception, encourages one to look at the film through the
progressive lens of homosexuality as a positive element in society, particularly in regards to
Seth’s speech. The straight line likely is referring to being ‘straight’ (i.e., heterosexual), which
Seth argues is narrow minded and limiting based on his newfound understanding of human

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sexuality. Despite not explicitly covering the issues of homosexuality in the film, Cronenberg
still addresses concerns of the sexual liberation of society and encourages discussions of a more
progressive and open-minded understanding of our bodies and sexualities, beyond the
conservative limitations enforced by the patriarchal societies of both the Victorian Gothic era
and contemporary present-day. Another point where Cronenberg seems to address societal closemindedness is when Ronnie confronts Seth after his affair, pleading “You’re changing Seth.
Everything about you is changing,” which not only implicates the obvious physical changes his
body is experiencing, but the social and psychological ones as well. Enraged by Ronnie’s
concerns, Seth responds angrily“You’re jealous! I’ve become free. I’ve been released and you can’t stand it. You’ll do
anything to bring me down” (The Fly).
In Seth’s mind, (and surely that of Cronenberg’s), he is free from societal constrictions of his
‘traditional’ relationship with Ronnie, which is now viewed as restrictive and detrimental to
one’s overall sexual knowledge and experience. Perhaps what Cronenberg is trying to say in
moments such as this, is that patriarchal society will always view the sexual ‘Other’ in all its
forms as ‘sick’ or detrimental to themselves and those around them, and will never partake or
enter the proverbial ‘plasma pool’ of human flesh to experience more than what society has
deemed to be the pure, exclusive option for humanity.
The contagious fear of the sexual ‘Other’ in the film, is best exemplified by Stathis
Borans (John Getz), the patriarchal stand-in for conservative society, who is quick to tell Ronnie
not to go back to Seth because “It could be contagious. It could turn into an epidemic” (The Fly).
Seth’s position as a sexual ‘Other’ transforms him into the monstrous antagonist of the film, but
one that retains the viewer’s empathy throughout the remainder of the film, thanks to the

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harrowing bodily breakdown he experiences. The fact that he is alone during the most critical
moments of his transformation, establishes the debilitating isolation victims of disease suffer,
and the oftentimes cruel or emotionally damaging response they see on a daily basis. An example
of this, is Ronnie’s horrific expression and emotional breakdown when she first sees his
degraded body and mental state. Seth’s character goes as far as to acknowledge the horrific
changes he experiences, but the film also hints that some of these changes are caused by societal
pressures, and not by the disease or by Seth. Seth’s claim that “Every time I look in the mirror
there’s someone different, hideous, repulsive” (The Fly), could not only be because of his
horrific appearance, but a result of the psychological damage of a societal label of being a freak
or ‘Other’ based on one’s appearance and sexual identity; in other words, one can no longer see
oneself, one only sees a monster. His reluctance to become a test subject and another victim to be
viewed with pity, [“just another tumorous bore...talking endlessly about his…hair falling out and
his lost lymph nodes” (The Fly)], represents a plea to the audience to not simply pity what he is,
but to understand who he is and to accept him for the human beneath his monstrous exterior. Seth
knows that he is transforming into something else, but he asks the viewer if that is so terrible,
that “[m]ost people would give anything to be turned into something else” (The Fly). One cannot
help but make the comparison of Seth’s plea with the struggles of the Gay community during the
1980s. As a group which was (and still is) unjustly demonized as sexual monsters and carriers of
a disease that will cause social and cultural contagion, eventually causing a societal collapse
from within, the ‘gay’ monster in The Fly is shown to be simply human, a victim not by choice,
but the result of the patriarchal society that both creates and labels them as victims and monsters.
If The Fly accomplishes one thing for the Gay community, it is that it helped bring
awareness and humanized the community at a time when civil unrest and hatred towards them

56

was substantial; furthermore, although it must be stated that the AIDS disease can be contracted
by anyone regardless of sexual orientation, the epidemic, through its association with the Gay
community, helped turn the AIDS crisis into a social and political movement,27 one that resulted
in The Fly becoming an important starting point for social discourse. In addition, The Fly in
conjunction with the AIDS crisis, helped bring a wave of re-evaluation for the Gay community in
Western society, allowing this group to emerge from their proverbial closets on the fringes of
society and claim their voice and place in contemporary society. As the discussion on Nightbreed
will show, the subgenre of body horror helped provide a voice for the LGBTQ+ community,
continuing the societal trend of re-evaluating the Gay community in the wake of the AIDS crisis.
Humanizing the Monstrous: Nightbreed, the Homosexual, and the Societal Monster
Nightbreed: The Director’s Cut is a 2014 re-release of the 1990 film of the same name.
The 1990 film, directed by Clive Barker, follows Aaron Boone (Craig Sheffer), a newly
transformed monster, who becomes a member of a group of runaway/castaway monsters living
on the fringes of society in a cemetery in Alberta, Canada. The film focuses on the struggles of
the monsters and their plight of being hunted by humanity to the point of near extinction. The
last remnants of this society, struggle to find their place in a society that has deemed them
monsters (i.e., humanity and their patriarchal, conservative society); ultimately, they resign
themselves to being left alone and undisturbed by their enemies through self-imposed exile.
Unfortunately for the monsters, once they are discovered by the patriarchal society they fear,
they are forced to fight back under the leadership of Boone to reclaim their lost place in the
world. The film suffered greatly due to studio and executive meddling, resulting in an original

27

See Best.

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theatrical release, which attempted to portray the film as a slasher, while also editing the film in
such a way as to make the monsters appear more horrific and villainous than they actually were
(essentially turning them into the film’s villains). In an introduction to the director’s cut with the
film’s restoration producer, Mark Alan Miller, Barker recounts the mindset of the studio and
executives at the time:
You don’t talk about the monsters as interesting or uh, emotionally, creatively or you
know, theologically rich creatures – [Miller: “sympathetic”] – sympathetic, exactly. You
just beat them up and burn them, and that’s not what I wanted to do with the movie, I
wanted to send out a very different idea to people.
Due to Barker’s fascination with monsters and his own position as an openly-gay man,
Nightbreed’s goals can be viewed as more than just a reimagining of the horror monster’s place
in fiction, but as an allegorical representation of minority groups of people, particularly the
LGBTQ+ community. Dismantling the monster and establishing it as a new metaphor for the
plight of the sexually oppressed Gay community, demonstrates an attempt by the body horror
subgenre in the form of the film Nightbreed to subvert audience expectations, and produce a
more progressive narrative than a traditional slasher narrative.
Forced out and hunted by the conservative patriarchal society of humanity, the remaining
monsters have begun to hide among humanity or join the fringe society of Midian, an
underground cemetery society on the outskirts of the fictional Albertan small town, Shere Neck
(possibly an overt nod to the term ‘Redneck,’28 since many of the town’s residents both appear

According to the Cambridge Dictionary, a redneck is “a poor white person without education, especially one
living in the countryside in the southern US, who has prejudiced (= unfair and unreasonable) ideas and beliefs.”
28

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and act in a similar manner to this stereotype). In the documentary “Tribes of the Moon,” actor
Craig Sheffer explains what the place of Midian represents:
[Midian’s] a place where people not considered normal go . . . people on the fringes of
society, even today somewhat – the black man in white society, the Gay man in a
heterosexual society – you’re an outcast, and all the outcasts move in to live together
beneath this graveyard, which sounds like a good party.
After Boone is framed by his psychologist, Philip K. Decker (David Cronenberg) for the murders
which Decker actually committed, Boone encounters the monster Narcisse (Hugh Ross), who
like him is trying to find “a place to escape to” or what Decker referred to earlier as “[a] place
where all your sins would be forgiven.” Narcisse presents the place of Midian to Boone as
“where the monsters go . . . [i]t takes away the pain,” which clarifies to the audience that Midian
is not a place of evil, but an escape for those suffering in their society. Midian, therefore,
represents the last bastion of hope for the ‘monsters’ of the world, making the destination a
mortal enemy and threat to a society fearful of the Gay monster.
Upon his resurrection as a monster, Boone discovers that the monsters are not the
aggressors he thought they were, but are instead destitute creatures seeking either a saviour to
protect them from their enemies29 or a way to remain elusive. Their monstrous behaviour
towards Boone is shown to be more of a defense mechanism, as humans or ‘Naturals’ are not to
be harmed, even if they trespass on their domain. The classification of humanity as ‘Naturals’
alludes to the Gothic separation of the sexual ‘Other’ from the ‘pure’ sexuality of the Christian
matrimonial relationship; in other words, patriarchal human society is the pure, untainted part of

This situation in the film is described in the prophecy of the one called Cabal who will save the monsters and
reintegrate them into the world.
29

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nature, while the monsters are the evil, Satanic spawn which aim to spread death and disease. As
Mark Richard Adams, author of “Clive Barker’s Queer Monsters” explains, “Nightbreed fully
embraces the concept of the monstrous ‘Other’ as not being a force for evil but simply an
alternative to ‘normality’ and demonstrates this through the creation of a potentially utopian
queer society” (136). According to Adams, Barker’s goal with the film was “making the
monstrous persuasive and romantic, while making the forces of law and order . . . the subject of
unacceptable villainy and troubling morality” (136). The history of the monsters (or the Night
Breed) is shown to Boone’s girlfriend Lori Winston (Anne Bobby) by the monster Rachel
(Catherine Chevalier) where Lori is provided with past visions of the horrific brutality and
attempted genocide of the Breed by the religious dogma of Western society. Rachel clarifies to
Lori that the Night Breed are
The last survivors of the great tribes. We’re shape shifters. Freaks. Remains of races that
your tribe have almost driven to extinction. You envy us, and what you envy…
(Nightbreed).
Lori’s admission of guilt that what humanity envies, “we destroy,” calls for a re-evaluation of
our understandings concerning societal monsters, allowing “the audience to step into the world
of the ‘Other’ in order to sympathise and understand an alternative perspective” (136). Although
the Night Breed could “[symbolize] any minority group that has suffered from persecution and
oppression,” their codified appearance intersecting with common “queer iconography” (136), the
references to sexuality by the authoritarian figures of the film, and Barker’s own identity as a gay
man, makes the Night Breed symbolic stand-ins for the Gay community; for example, in his
description of the Breed, Benshoff labels the monsters as “spectacularly queer,” citing the visual
design of “sport leather, tattoos, body-piercings, shaved heads and/or pony-tails, Doc Marten

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boots, vests upon bare chests, and van dykes (‘Satan Beards’ or ‘queer beards’),” and Narcisse’s
future reference to fellow monster, Ohnaka (Simon Bamford) as a ‘sailor’ (260). Even Boone’s
character can be codified as gay, since Benshoff claims that the film ‘dramatizes a coming-out
narrative,’ because of his troubled relationship with his girlfriend Lori, his psychosexual dreams
of monsters and Midian prior to his transformation, and his feelings of belonging among the
monsters (263-264).30 Boone’s position as a symbolic bi-sexual representation of both worlds
(i.e., the monstrous Gay, and the religious, heterosexual right), makes him the ideal candidate to
lead the monsters out of the proverbial closet in order to “fight back against the forces of society
who would define difference as monstrous” (264).
The antagonists of the film- Decker, Reverend Ashberry (Malcolm Smith), and the Shere
Neck sheriff, Captain Eigerman (Charles Haid), each represent one of the differing fields of
authoritarian leadership within the patriarchal society they inhabit; “Decker the psychiatrist,
representing science, Eigerman the red-neck sheriff, representing the law; and Ashberry, a
drunken, faithless priest, representing religion” (Adams 138). As Adams proposes, “[e]ach of
these institutions can be connected to the oppression of homosexuality.” He argues that “[b]oth
science and psychiatry were used to treat homosexuality as a disease or illness whilst religious
oppression of alternative sexuality remains an increasingly politically sensitive issue.” The law
was complacent and enforced the two former institutions, and “essentially made [homosexual]
criminals in the eyes of the law, based entirely on their sexual orientation” (138).
Decker represents the Gothic (and to a lesser extent, modern) scientist who “is only now
catching up with the seemingly supernatural phenomena which have been around for centuries;

30

See Adams pp. 137-138 for a detailed breakdown of Benshoff’s analysis.

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the scientist dismisses what he cannot explain, but these phenomena persist nonetheless” (Hurley
19). Decker, like the Victorian Gothic scientists he represents, is only now coming to the
realization of the phenomenon of achieving supernatural abilities possessed by the Night Breed
once thought impossible (e.g., flight, super strength, etc.). This newfound knowledge represents
a direct threat to Decker’s understanding of the natural world, undermining the position of power
he has over Boone, who looks up to him as an authority figure in all matters surrounding the
human body and its ‘natural’ processes and functions. Boone and the Night Breed represent to
him the Gothic notion of uncontrolled sexuality threatening social and cultural contagion. As
Decker himself explains to one of his hapless victims on why he wants to kill all the Night
Breeds
See, I’ve cleaned up a lot of breeders. Families like cesspools. Filth making filth, making
filth (Nightbreed).
For Decker, reproduction is a sin and his, “targeting of ‘breeders’ suggests he might be
understood as some form of queer avenger” (Benshoff 264), because of the societal
misconception that “[q]ueer suggests death over life by focusing on non-procreative sexual
behaviors” (5); however, as Benshoff makes clear, Decker “in actuality, like many opponents of
homosexuality,. . . has a problem with all sexuality, both straight and monstrous. . .eventually
target[ing] the monsters as being the most visible manifestation of his fears” (264). Decker’s
most direct oppression of the monstrous homosexual is perhaps best articulated through his
attempts at ‘re-educating’ or brainwashing the metaphorical homosexual side of Boone during
their sessions together. His understanding that “everyone has a secret face” (Nightbreed), and his
knowledge of Boone’s confused feelings regarding his heterosexual relationship with Lori,
would suggest that Decker is utilizing his scientific/medical background in psychology to

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persuade Boone to his side (in this case, more a forced persuasion through brainwashing and
psycho-active drugs) – a common aspect of Gothic and horror fiction according to critics such as
Adams. Decker’s position as the slasher villain in the film is of particular importance here. As
previously mentioned, Nightbreed suffered from studio and executive interference throughout
the entirety of the film’s production,31 which led to the film being marketed to the general public
as a slasher, and with Decker’s role in the film becoming more prominent than the original
screenplay or the novel Cabal.32 In this context, the character of Decker becomes a metaphorical
invader of the body horror film by means of the slasher subgenre. Like Midian which represents
a safe place for the homosexual monster, the body horror subgenre becomes invaded by a
patriarchal force obsessed with upholding the sexual ‘norm.’ Critics such as Clover have argued
that the slasher subgenre encourages ‘two-sex model’ narratives in which men and women or the
sexual ‘Other’ are the inferior opposite of men -essentially, a slight update to the ‘one-sex
model’ where they are basically “inverted, and less perfect men” (15, 14). The slasher villain in
this new context becomes “a killer propelled by psychosexual fury” (27), and one that represents
conservative society’s need to suppress and destroy all forms of sexuality by eliminating those
who participate in immoral sexual behaviour. Decker’s position as the slasher villain of course
makes financial sense (the success of the slasher subgenre in horror fiction was unrivaled during
the 1980s); however, the fact that the executives did not understand the film’s message of
inclusivity and/or felt it could not be successful because of said message, supports the idea of a
societal-level prejudice towards the Gay community - - a prejudice which constructs the sexual
‘Other’ as too monstrous for the ‘normal’ heterosexual to understand or empathize with.

31
32

See the documentary “Tribes of the Moon” for details.
Cabal is the 1988 novel by Barker which Nightbreed is based upon.

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Reverend Ashberry’s place in the film as the authority figure of religion is equally
questionable to Decker with regards to his treatment of the homosexual monster. Ashberry’s
position as a religious authority figure is definitely not as strong as Decker’s or Eigerman’s
respective positions, for most of the Reverend’s screen time in the film. Ashberry is first
introduced to the audience as an impassioned, drunkard preacher of God. Similar to the other
authority figures, Ashberry has little interest in the Night Breed or Midian prior to his arrival,
and certainly holds no ill-will towards the underground society or their beliefs. According to
Adams, “Ashberry is representative of the loss of faith and increasing scepticism in modern
society” (139), and it is reasonable to assume that the Reverend’s reason for his newfound lack
of faith has more to do with the citizens of Shere Neck, and the lack of respect they show for him
and his faith. A citizen like Captain Eigerman oftentimes uses God for his own nefarious reasons
and as a shield to protect themselves from any form of criticism. Benshoff claims that Eigerman
and to a larger extent, the priest Ashberry, is representative of Barker’s own beliefs concerning
the “simplistic thinking of today’s Christian evangelists” when it comes to “the politics of
queerness” (265). Ashberry is supposed to be a rejection of the Victorian Gothic attitudes or
contemporary religious Christian evangelism decrying the Gay monster as the cause of societal
disease and degradation (e.g., syphilis and the AIDS crisis), since Ashberry is shown to be a
compassionate figure when he both proclaims Midian as “holy ground,” and gives Last Rites to
the monsters who fall victim to the homophobic figure of Eigerman and his cronies; however, as
Adams suggests, Ashberry’s position as an ineffective religious combatant towards the
homosexual monster, “does not in any way lessen religion’s impact as a persecuting force”
(139). Ashberry’s eventual transformation at the hands of the Night Breed deity Baphomet, does
not ‘turn’ him to the side of the Breed; instead, he succumbs to a new religious dogma that better

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suits his beliefs, and upholds his faith’s most conservative belief that the Breed are monstrous
figures that he is now tasked to hunt. In all likelihood, Ashberry’s position in the film is
representative of Barker’s belief concerning the hypocrisy of the religious right in their treatment
of the homosexual or sexual ‘Other;’ the character of Ashberry thus provides an option for the
salvation of the monstrous figure through religion and faith, while simultaneously persecuting
them.
Captain Eigerman’s position in the film is easily the clearest of the three authoritarian
figures. Eigerman is a homophobic bully who enjoys belittling and causing pain and suffering to
those he deems inferior ‘freaks’ (i.e., the homosexual monster), which likely is the result of his
subservient position as a mere ‘enforcer’ of the two hierarchal authoritarian classes of science
and religion. Both of these authoritarian fields hold power over Eigerman who ends up lashing
out physically and verbally towards both Decker and Ashberry, likely due to an inferiority
complex. Instead of following the law by bringing the Night Breed into custody, Eigerman, his
police force, and the red-neck posse he rallies, seek to destroy Midian and kill its inhabitants
simply for their physical differences, and threat to their masculine egos as the dominant force of
sexual power. In one of these early attacks, the Shere Neck police beat and insult the monster
Ohnaka, based solely on his appearance as a Gay man, since none of them have encountered a
monster prior to this. The removal of one of Ohnaka’s nipple rings, the mocking, and the violent
behaviour, demonstrates an irrefutable case that Eigerman and his goon squad of police are
attacking the Breed based solely on their prejudice towards them being homosexual freaks.
Eigerman justifies his behaviour by “going out there with God on our side” by having the
Reverend with them and by having scientific support through the blessing of Decker; however,
through this justification, Eigerman and his police force utilize their positions as authority figures

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to satisfy their fragile egos and as an outlet for their prejudice. Although he seemingly does not
hate all sexuality like Decker, they are similar in their hatred towards homosexuality, to the point
where he is confronted by Ashberry for killing children and his only retort is that Ashberry is “a
faggot.” It is notable that the only monster the police do not attempt to kill is the female monster
Shuna Sassi (Christine McCorkindale) who sexually seduces them before killing them, which
again implies that the only true reason that Eigerman and his forces are attacking the monsters is
for their codified appearance as homosexual monsters who threaten masculine egos. Further
complicating the issue is the fact that Eigerman and his goons have adopted the societal “dream
of residing within the precincts of the sacred, secure in the knowledge that a place has
providentially been provided for everything and everything is eternally in its proper place,” as
according to Eric White, author of “The Erotics of Becoming” (397). White further claims that
“such an ‘inside’ is inevitably constituted in relation to a hostile ‘outside’ that comprises a
permanent threat,” (397-398) and it could very well be the case that Eigerman and his goons
view the monsters as a form of ‘persecution’ that “‘confound[s] the general scheme of the
world’…or reveal[s]…reality to be a historically contingent interpretation rather than an
immutable truth” (398). It is likely Barker’s intent to highlight the authority figures like
Eigerman within the story as an unmoving and stagnant force that willingly upholds this societal
‘eternal dream’ out of misguided cultural obligation and fear.
The questioning of authority figures and the social practices of oppression towards
minority groups, such as the homosexual and sexual ‘Other,’ is a common aspect of the body
horror subgenre as discussed thus far. As Nightbreed shows its audience, “it is the tyranny of the
normal that ultimately destroys” the homosexual monster (Sorcha Ní Fhlainn, “‘To Darken the
Day and Brighten the Night,’” 9), and is in direct conflict with the conservative religious right’s

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notion that the homosexual monster will rise up and overthrow society because of some
misguided ‘agenda.’ If anything, Nightbreed attempts to show its audience that
The monsters of Midian are driven underground by those who police the boundaries of
society – psychiatrists, the police force, all of them instigators of societal rules and
regulations – causing the Night Breed . . . to rise up in this defiant celebration of queer
difference (9).
Perhaps to a greater extent than The Fly or other equivocally codified homosexualpositive horror films like A Nightmare on Elm Street, Part 2: Freddy’s Revenge (1985),33
Nightbreed presents societal authorities as flawed, and the systems in-place for society’s benefit
as problematic on a fundamentally core level. Instead of presenting a monstrous figure who is a
social antagonist towards the injustices they face like Brundlefly, the Night Breed are never
antagonistic towards society. They only defend themselves from the society which aims to keep
them firmly oppressed. In the case of body horror films like Nightbreed, the monstrous
homosexual figure is portrayed as a positive force of social change and discourse - - one that
challenges preconceived notions of societal contagion and degradation by suggesting that it is the
societal authorities whose oppressive and backwards forces cause the degeneration of the human
species, and not the sexual outcast. As Benshoff perfectly summarizes,
The rise of queer social practice and theory . . . have led . . . to an opposing trend in
cinematic horror, one that in some cases actively overturns the genre’s conventions in
order to argue that monster queers are actually closer to desirable human ‘normality’ than

33

See Benshoff pp. 246-250.

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those patriarchal forces (religion, law, medicine) that had traditionally sought to
demonize them. (231)
Emerging Disgust: Acknowledging the Gay Monster’s Place in Body Horror
As addressed in this chapter, the Victorian Gothic fin de siècle had a fundamental
influence on the portrayal of the homosexual as a monstrous figure hell bent on the destruction of
all that was pure in Christian Western society. According to a contemporary Victorian scholar
like Hurley, the homosexual became a social contagion that threatened the cultural collapse of
society through the spreading of disease and societal perversion. If the Victorian fin de siècle
forced the homosexual ‘monster’ towards the fringes of society, then the body horror subgenre of
film in the late twentieth century tasked itself with bringing the homosexual back into the
societal fray. The body horror subgenre of film mainly achieved this by subverting societal
expectations of the homosexual monster and sexual ‘Other’ through the humanizing of its
subjects as unfortunate victims.
Both The Fly and Nightbreed present the homosexual as a societal victim, instead of the
traditional figure of the monstrous homosexual; despite this attempt at a progressive message,
this aspect can be viewed as a criticism of the films, since the depiction of a subset group of
people as helpless victims is itself highly problematic because it “once again demoniz[es]
(homo)sexuality by linking it to the monstrous” (Wood qtd. in Benshoff 262); and therefore, it
would be a massive disservice to the argument of this thesis to ignore such a valid criticism.
Barker himself has defended this practice and has argued the reason behind portraying outcast
sexual monsters in the following statement:

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All I’ve done is take a genre mired in Victorian values into a post-Last Exit to Brooklyn
world. Horror fiction tends to be reactionary. It’s usually about a return to the status quo
– the monster is the outsider who must be banished from the sanctum. But over and over
again, I’ve created monsters who come from the outside and who call out to somebody to
join them in the sanctum. (Barker qtd. in Benshoff 262)
If the response and panic of the AIDS crisis proved one thing, it is that the homosexual and
sexual ‘Other’ are still viewed as a horrific force in society -one that lies on the fringes waiting to
strike, to enforce a secret ‘agenda’ upon society, and to cause degeneration through disease
spread by social and cultural contagion. The homosexual monster’s place in horror fiction has
been a historically problematic aspect of the genre, since its most prominent focus in Victorian
Gothic fin de siècle literature. A scholar like Hurley has provided substantial evidence on the
supposed subversion of the homosexual as a monstrous figure in society that would cause the
ruination of Western civilization through cultural and social contagion as a result of their
‘impure’ sexuality. The popularity of the Gothic fin de siècle monster, such as Dracula, ensured
that early Hollywood pictures would adopt a perspective of the homosexual as monstrous. It is,
therefore, understandable that an approach of turning the homosexual into a victimized figure
would be the most direct and effective way to cause empathy and support for the sexual
minority. Although not ideal, simply expecting people to disregard engrained societal prejudice
without the support of the authoritarian fields of science, law, and religion as discussed in the
section on Nightbreed, is simply foolish. It is due to their lack of support that Barker and other
body horror creators such as Cronenberg, are left to appeal to their viewers directly, and the most
effective means of doing that is to appeal to their emotions; therefore, it seems necessary to
address the homosexual monster’s place in the body horror subgenre as a victimized monster

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who must rise up to let their voices be heard, and as Barker suggests, ask those members of the
sanctum (i.e., society) to listen to what these ‘monsters’ have to say, and consider joining them
as supporters of social change and sexual liberation for all.

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Chapter Three: The Fragile Ego: Masculinity and Body Horror Film
The Gothic Fin de Siècle Man through the Lens of Degeneration Theory
As previous chapters have shown, the Gothic Victorian fin de siècle tends to rely heavily
on degeneration theory in its construction of human sexuality and expected gender roles, and this
is true for representations of the male figure. As discussed thus far, women and the Gay or sexual
‘Other’ were often portrayed as dangerous and as sexual beings that had the potential to cause
social and cultural contagion in Victorian patriarchal society. The Victorian Gothic and the fin de
siècle “served to multiply, and thus destabilize, the meanings of sexuality,” as a precursor “to the
emergent discipline of sexology, which could only identify a normative sexuality by itemizing
the numerous instances of ‘perversion’ against which it was defined” (Hurley 11). The
multiplying of sexualities and the classification of normative sexuality (i.e., heterosexual,
matrimonial sexual relationships), ensured that the male hero figure in Gothic fin de siècle
literature fulfills a dominant masculine demeanour and role as a restrained, but superior sexual
paradigm -- an aspect which would be carried beyond the fin de siècle into the twentieth century
by fin de siècle’s early influence on the emergent horror film (e.g., the Universal Monster films:
Dracula (1931), Frankenstein (1931), The Wolf Man (1941), etc.). The masculine protagonist’s
role oftentimes followed a strict moral upholding the social order of society by resisting and
destroying impure sexualities. For example, we see this male template represented by the three
male protagonists who hunt down the monstrous beetle figure in Marsh’s novel The Beetle. The
need for the overt masculine figure in the Gothic fin de siècle, arises from the need to uphold
sexual order and to present the male figure as the dominant, pure role model, fighting for the
salvation of Victorian and Western society against corruptible and impure sexualities (i.e.,
women, and both the sexual and ethnic ‘Others’).

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Hurley’s discussion on the adoption of the late eighteenth century’s two-sex model (i.e.,
females being separate from men) still containing hold-overs of the one-sex model whereby,
women were viewed as less evolved beings or as imperfect men, demonstrates that women were
oftentimes constructed as more than ‘opposite’ to men. Women were considered inferior because
of their contrasting qualities (i.e., organs where they should not be, menstruation, birth, etc.).34
To construct a ‘perfect’ or ‘ideal’ sex, an opposite, less perfect/ideal sex must exist - - in this
case women. Furthermore, sexual ‘Other’ figures, such as members of the LGBTQ+ community,
had to be established as either corrupted fallen women and men or as a horrific bodily
amalgamation of various entities from the two sexes, which represents either a diseased and/or
animalistic individual or a human violation of God through the creation of new life as in the case
of The Island of Dr. Moreau. ‘Manliness’ or overt masculinity is viewed by writers of the
Victorian Gothic fin de siècle as the driving force of societal improvement and evolution, as
Hurley addresses in her breakdown of H.G. Wells’ The Time Machine. She argues that the
narrator’s dismay at the degeneration of humanity is due to its regression into one physically
androgynous species which “has lost its Manhood as well as its complexity” (82), further arguing
that the Eloi (humanity) “have simultaneously ‘fallen,’ or devolved into primitiveness,
effeminacy, and childishness” (83). The characteristics often associated with women, children,
and savages35 (egoism, simplicity, lack of creativity, etc.), make ‘manly’ traits that allow
humanity to progress (energy, intelligence, and strength), now obsolete in the story (83). The
novel and degeneration theory on a whole, suggest that men and their ‘manly’ traits are the only
aspects in their civilization which have the ability to continue societal advancements, ultimately
suggesting that women and any form of the ‘Other’ in society are linked to primitive thinking

34
35

See p. 14 of Men, Women, and Chainsaws.
Terms used in colonial writing to refer to the oriental and indigenous ‘Other.’

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and behaviour, which facilitates the connection of women and the ‘Other’ to the savage,
animalistic world.
The goal of degeneration theory and the Gothic fin de siècle literary movement is to
encourage a patriarchal narrative that reinforces the importance of the ‘manly’ male figure as the
sole beacon of hope within society, resulting in the negative consequence of women and the
perceived less desirable ‘Others’ being portrayed as childish obstacles for men to overcome and
keep Western society on a path of evolutionary progress. There is another nefarious aspect to the
subgenre’s construction of women and the ‘Other,’ which is the requirement that they become
the villainous monster or helpless victim for the male hero to destroy or save (an aspect surely
deployed by fin de siècle authors as a means to reinforce male egos of ‘manliness’ and sexual
superiority). Oftentimes women or the sexual/oriental ‘Other’ are presented as a direct threat to
masculine egos through the act of emasculation; for example, Hurley describes the character of
the Beetle as a figure that ‘unmans’ the masculine figure by reversing sexual roles and
effeminizing the male hero as a victim of ‘aggressive’ femininity.36 The monstrous feminine
figure or ‘Other’ figure is not portrayed as monstrous in fin de siècle literature solely because it
is different, but importantly, because they emasculate the fragile male ego of superiority and
establish themselves as a new dominant threat to patriarchal values. This aspect has since carried
over to the twentieth-century horror film particularly the slasher film, which similar to the
expression of monstrous femininity in Gothic fin de siècle, asserts the following:
The fact that female monsters and female heroes, when they do appear, are masculine in
dress and behavior (and often in name), and that male victims are shown in feminine

36

See section “The Dissolution of Masculinity,” Chapter 7, p. 143.

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postures at the moment of their extremity, would seem to suggest that gender inheres in
the function itself--that there is something about the victim function that wants
manifestation in a female, and something about the monster and hero functions that wants
expression in a male. (Clover 12-13)
It is inherent that within Gothic fin de siècle literature and the slasher subgenre, dominant
behaviour is rewarded and viewed as superior, and that such behaviour is classified as masculine,
while any victim or subservient behaviour is classified as feminine; therefore, it is a logical
conclusion to assume that the greatest threat to the male ego in the horror genre for both the
characters and audience is being emasculated or deemed ‘unmanly.’ This post two-sex theory
(early sexology) conclusion has impacted the horror genre significantly, and with the added
beliefs of degeneration theory, constructs a narrative in which masculinity is favoured above all
else. The influence of literature from the Gothic fin de siècle on Hollywood film only
encouraged overt masculinity in twentieth-century horror film; however, unlike the slasher
subgenre which very much aims to appeal to patriarchal narratives of masculine superiority and
female/’Other’ inferiority, the subgenre of body horror oftentimes portrays overt masculinity as
monstrous, while establishing femininity and sexual ‘Otherness’ as an equally dominant form of
sexuality.
Raising Hell: Hellraiser and Overt Masculinity
Hellraiser is a 1987 supernatural body horror film directed by Clive Barker. The film
follows the downfall of Frank Cotton (Sean Chapman) whose unrelenting pursuit of new and
increasingly perverse sexual experiences, leads him to a puzzle box (the Lament Configuration)
that summons demons known as Cenobites who grant solvers of the puzzle box otherworldly
sadomasochistic sexual experiences and pleasures. Frank eventually escapes Hell and his

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Cenobite captors and returns to Earth as a skinless, deformed corpse who, through the assistance
of his lover and brother’s wife Julia (Clare Higgins), murders and absorbs the bodies of male
victims whom Julia seduces in order to reanimate Frank’s body back to its complete form. It falls
to Frank’s niece Kirsty (Ashley Laurence) to stop Frank and return him to their Cenobite
pursuers before she suffers a similar fate to that of her estranged uncle.
Hellraiser was a financial and critical success upon its release, spawning a major horror
franchise and one of the most recognizable figures in the horror film genre: Pinhead (Doug
Bradley). Although sometimes labelled as a slasher film due to the similarities it shares with
regards to the ‘Final Girl’ trope and high murder count, the film has become a staple of the body
horror subgenre of film thanks to its grotesque imagery, sexual nature, and focus on the body as
the key element of producing horror and revulsion for its audience. The film and its creator Clive
Barker are heavily influenced by Gothic fin de siècle literature, sharing many tropes and ideas
regarding the human body as a vessel to explore sexual identity and its effects on the
psychological and social spheres of human interaction; however, unlike the fin de siècle, Barker
and his film Hellraiser rejects the Victorian notion that sexuality and the pursuit of sexual
desires are an inherently dangerous taint on society; rather Barker’s Hellraiser simply presents
an alternative perspective on human sexual experience as a highly subjective and misunderstood
aspect of one’s identity due to social constructs enforced by patriarchal society. Similarly to the
works discussed thus far, Barker’s Hellraiser is concerned with dismantling society’s narrow
view of alternative or ‘Other’ sexuality as overtly negative and harmful, and challenges
conservative societal constructs of ‘normative’ marital heterosexuality and overt masculinity as
the positive guiding force towards societal growth and cultural superiority.

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Without question the character of Frank is presented as an overtly masculine figure; in
other words, he is sexually dominant over women and his male peers. He is muscular, gruff,
strong, and confident in his sexuality. Initially, the film presents Frank as an ideal masculine
sexual figure of confidence, domination, and attractiveness, and it achieves this by highlighting
photos of his sexual conquest of numerous female partners and his successful seduction of his
brother’s wife Julia. In an interview entitled, “Being Frank: Sean Chapman on Hellraiser,”
Chapman comments on Julia and Frank’s initial relationship and explains why the masculine
character is so sexually exciting:
The scenes with Claire [Julia] had this added element of Frank just beginning to explore
what it was she was enjoying about him and his willingness to do anything, go anywhere
and seeing that come alive in her as a woman who, perhaps, wouldn’t be expected to have
- - you know, the marriage she has with Larry is obviously setup to be something that’s
fairly conservative and straightforward, so the scene’s real pleasure is it . . . becomes that
thing of what would you like to do?
Chapman’s comments on the relationship of Frank and Julia highlight the negative stigma the
film’s narrative has towards the traditional and ‘normative’ sexual relationship of marriage and
conservative values. It should be acknowledged that the film does not present Frank and Julia’s
anti-establishment and ‘sinful’ relationship as solely positive; instead, Hellraiser is as Chapman
puts it: “[Barker’s] intent on experiencing and exploring the limits of his own understanding and
that’s where Frank emerges as a character, clearly.” Similar to Julia, Barker utilizes the character
of Frank as a means to explore new experiences and understandings regarding sex, pleasure,
relationships, and the human body. Both Barker and Julia can be viewed as ‘pseudo-virgins,’
individuals whose own understanding and perception regarding the human body and sexuality

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are awakened to an external force of sexual experience. The demons of the film, the Cenobites,
are the ultimate harbingers of change within the context of the film, and more directly explore
the otherworldly pleasures and experiences humanity could achieve if they were to move past
their morals and social constructs to accept newfound knowledge and pleasure. Frank is
ultimately the catalyst for this change with his uncontrollable pursuit of sexual pleasure and
domination ruining both his life and the lives of his family as a direct result of the sexual desires
caused by an overt perversion of male masculinity and dominance.
Masculinity as Monstrous
Diametrically opposed to the representation of masculinity in stories in the Gothic fin de
siècle, such as The Beetle or The Time Machine, Frank’s masculinity is not presented as the
driving force of good or social progress respectively, but rather is shown to be corrupt, harmful
and socially regressive if allowed to remain unchecked or even encouraged by patriarchal
discourse. Although Barker criticizes the very institution of marriage as a plausibly stagnant and
harmful aspect of human social growth and fulfillment through Julia’s attitudes towards her
husband Larry (Andrew Robinson) whose own meekness becomes a significant turn-off and
cause of resigned boredom within herself,37 Barker also critiques Frank’s pursuit of Julia as a
manipulative, exploitative, and harmful drawback to perceived masculine traits of male
superiority and sexual dominance over women and the sexual ‘Other’ so often encouraged and
idealized, (albeit less overtly), within the Gothic fin de siècle. Brigid Cherry, a horror film critic
and researcher of Barker’s works, note in her essay “Beauty, Pain, and Desire,” that “[n]onbourgeois sexuality (as represented by Julia and Frank as passionate lovers) is an escape from the

37

Similar to Cronenberg’s presentation of the Tudor’s marriage in Shivers.

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stifling constraints of marriage and feminine domesticity (as represented by Larry and Julia as
boring suburban couple)” (120), which supports the idea that Barker’s presentation of marriage is
similar to that of Cronenberg’s. The latter presents marriage as a stagnant and limiting affair that
disregards the human body and desire for experience and sexual liberation. The character of Julia
might be representative of “an interesting variant of the gothic mad-woman-in-the-attic trope,” in
which “[p]assionate feminine sexuality is positioned as monstrous in the narrative,” (Cherry
120), but as Cherry would argue, Barker’s works are not as straight forward as Gothic fin de
siècle fiction. As is the case of many of these works (including The Beetle) that focus on the
femme fatale and feminine sexuality as monstrous, Barker’s Hellraiser tends to suggest that the
patriarchal constraints enforced on women by societal values and overt masculinity as in the case
of Frank, is the true form of monstrosity.
Unlike Gothic fin de siècle literature and Victorian society which promoted degeneration
as a patriarchal discourse in which the male figure stood as the driving force of social and
cultural progress, Barker’s works tend to portray the male figure as easily corruptible, flawed,
and potentially harmful if left to his own devices. The figure of Frank is an interesting rejection
and role reversal on the fin de siècle male literary figure, since the story presents Frank as a
victim of a Faustian pact in which he ultimately rejects his remaining morals, humanity, soul,
and body to the hellish Cenobites of the Lament Configuration for inhuman pleasures and
experience—an aspect which goes against the belief that “women [are] identities defined by and
entrapped within their bodies, in contrast to the man, who is governed by rationality and capable
of transcending the fact of his embodiment” (Hurley 119). Frank’s character is far from rational
in the story, being ultimately a helpless figure in escaping his bodily urges and desires. In a
complete gender role reversal, his character embodies the biblical figure of Eve by committing

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the ‘original sin’ of opening the Lament Configuration and obtaining its unholy knowledge and
experience in the narrative. Frank’s unchecked pursuit of sexual conquest and satisfaction knows
no bounds within the film Hellraiser and its sequel Hellbound: Hellraiser II (1988), as in both
stories Frank stops at nothing to escape the torments of the Cenobites and fulfill his sexual
appetite through any means—most notably by sexually pursuing his niece Kirsty. One of the
most notable changes in Hellraiser from the original novella, The Hellbound Heart, was
Barker’s decision to turn Kirsty from a romantically interested friend of Rory Cotton (renamed
Larry in the film), to his daughter, and subsequently, Frank’s niece; whereas, Kirsty essentially
fulfilled a similar role to that of Julia in the original novella (she was in a taboo relationship
because she was a romantic partner of Frank’s brother). Kirsty becoming Frank’s niece presents
a far more taboo relationship for Frank to pursue, due to its incestuous nature. It is for this reason
that Frank embodies the Victorian degenerate, particularly in his willingness to destroy his
family to pursue his sexual desires.38 In both versions of the story, Frank destroys his family (i.e.,
commits adultery with his brother’s wife and murders his brother) as a means to continue his
existence as a sexually obsessed individual; furthermore, Frank’s taboo behaviour personifies the
Victorian degenerative fear that degenerate individuals are capable of spreading their ‘contagion’
onto others, in this case, Julia who ends up committing further degenerative acts of adultery and
murder in both Hellraiser and its sequel Hellbound.
Kirsty is positioned within the novella as an adult who has likely engaged in sexual acts;
whereas, the film turns her into a more standardized slasher character of the young virgin ‘Final
Girl’ figure. This alteration is an effective means of introducing further revulsion towards the

38

One of the key reasons the Victorians who practiced degeneration theory felt the suppression of degenerates was
so important because of the fear that they would contaminate and destroy families. See Hurley p. 79.

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figure of Frank for the audience, since his sexual pursuit of Kirsty now crosses over into an
incestuous societal taboo not too dissimilar to that of one of the tenants in Cronenberg’s Shivers.
At the conclusion of the first film, Frank embodies the skin of his deceased brother and attempts
to convince Kirsty that he is her father, but ultimately his ruse fails when he repeats the phrase he
told her earlier, “come to daddy” (Hellraiser). This phrasing can be considered an overt attempt
of Frank’s to take a position of authoritative control over Kirsty through the patriarchal figure of
her father, while presenting himself in a sexually suggestive manner. If their relationship is selfcontained in just the first film, then it could be argued that Frank’s behaviour was solely done as
a means to assert his overt masculinity and dominance over yet another female figure; however,
if analyzed with the additional context of the sequel, the motive behind Frank’s behaviour and
language towards his niece becomes much clearer. In Hellbound, Kirsty is transported to the
Cenobite’s realm, where she reencounters the figure of Frank, defeated and entrapped from their
previous encounter with the Cenobites. As punishment for his transgressions and attempts at
escaping his captors, the Cenobites have created a personal hell for Frank, in which he is
constantly surrounded and teased by beautiful, naked women. The women constantly writhe
around in pleasure and orgasmic moaning just out of the reach of Frank who cannot even touch
them without them disappearing from his sight, and in his own words, they are “promised
forever, never delivered” (Hellbound). The ultimate punishment for Frank and his
disempowerment is his inability to sexually conquer women and fulfill his sexual fantasies and
desires. As a result he does the unforgivable and assaults Kirsty and attempts to rape her.
Interestingly, it is the Victorian Gothic fin de siècle seductress, Julia, who saves Kirsty from
Frank by ripping his heart out after his failed attempt to seduce her again as well. Hellbound
shows that the overt masculine figure that the Victorians would have promoted as the ideal and

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sole figure to lead humankind’s continued social and evolutionary development when taken to its
extreme, can be problematic and a leading cause of degenerative behaviour and the breakdown
of moral values and patriarchal societal constructs. Unlike slasher villains whom critics such as
Falconer argue are similar to the ‘Final Girl’ because they are “often virgins” and “their bodies
are already figured as closed” (133), Frank is far from a virgin figure in the film, and actively
seeks to take virginity and sexual innocence from the women he encounters. To Frank, women
are seen as sexual commodity or, in other words, sexual experiences to be had and then thrown
away in an ever increasing pursuit of the next most extreme or taboo thing he can experience.
Although this aspect is to be expected of Frank with regards to Chapman’s previous comments
on Barker’s goals with the character and his own desire to seek the limits of his own
understanding of human experiences, it could also be suggested that this desire is carried within
its audience as well. If the horror film does indeed present itself for its male audience and the
fulfillment of the ‘male gaze’ as Clover would suggest,39 then the first two Hellraiser films
position the ‘male gaze’ and desires as far more problematic and uncomfortable in comparison to
its contemporaries like Friday the 13th (1980) or A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984) which allow
the male viewer to engage with the representation of sexual encounters in a more gratifying way.
Hellraiser and Hellbound through the antagonist of Frank, provides an almost cautionary tale or
meta-view towards voyeurism and unchecked sexual appetite as a hellish trap and unfulfilling
experience, a hypothesis supported by Hellbound’s own advertisement campaign where it
suggested “that audiences will share the victim’s fate” with the slogan, “‘We’ll tear your soul
apart—again!’” included in its trailer (Clover 201). The focus of Barker’s Hellraiser certainly
seems to be to challenge perceived societal understandings of human experiences in regards to

39

See Clover’s comments on E. Ann Kaplan on the bottom of p. 43, and her breakdown of the POV and male
perspective elements of the slasher villain, the camerawork, and the ‘Final Girl’ on pp. 44-52.

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pleasure and sex, and to ask its audience what these experiences say about us and how they
define who we are and what our goals are.
Monstrous Facades: Overt Masculinity and Closeted Homosexuality
The acknowledgement that overt masculinity could be a front for ‘closeted’
homosexuality40 is not a new critical observation or storytelling technique. The subversion of
overt masculine figures as closeted homosexuals has become such a widely understood trope and
perceived coping mechanism in society, particularly in the horror genre, that even horror parody
films such as Scary Movie (2000) utilize this method by making one of their incarnations of the
Scream (1996) slasher villains gay and attracted to the other villain. Benshoff has addressed this
aspect of the horror film in great detail in his own work Monsters in the Closet. There Benshoff
addresses that closeted homosexuality is an aspect that affects both those involved with making
the film and its characters. As examples of the former, Benshoff cites the ‘selling out’ of actor
George Nader to keep silent about fellow actor Rock Hudson’s closeted homosexuality which
negatively impacted Nader’s career as a leading man (158), or Mark Patton’s outing as a gay
individual and the increasingly homoerotic subtext the filmmakers requested out of Patton in his
portrayal of protagonist Jesse Walsh in A Nightmare on Elm Street 2: Freddy's Revenge;41
Benshoff, other critics and popular discourse have deemed Freddy’s Revenge a homoerotic
horror film due to its underlying subtext. Notably, Benshoff points out that not only is the
character of Jesse, who was as previously mentioned played by a Gay actor, a homoerotic

40
Closeted homosexuality can be considered common slang for people who have homosexual desires and
tendencies, but refuse to accept who they are and remain in a proverbial closet due to social and cultural pressures
and stigmas. This work in no way intends to portray this unfortunate by-product of societal and cultural values and
stigmas as solely a masculinity or homosexual issue, since this can apply to all spectrums of the LGBTQ+
community.
41
See the article/interview “The Nightmare behind the Gayest Horror Film Ever Made,” by Louis Peitzman for
more.

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individual and codified gay ‘closeted’ individual, but the character of Coach Schneider (Marshall
Bell) is as well.42 The codified gay appearance of the Coach, his homoerotic encounters with
Jesse in the shower room, and his tendency to hang around S/M clubs, are all less-than-subtle
subtext that the ‘macho’ and overtly masculine figure of the Coach is actually a closeted
homosexual. As will be discussed, there is a tendency for overtly masculine authority figures to
be closeted homosexuals in body horror film. Furthermore, studio interference in regards to
suppressing overt or implied homosexuality is a dominant phenomenon within horror films
during the 1980s (particularly the body horror subgenre).
Barker’s Overtly Masculine and Closeted Homosexuals
The character of Frank in the first two Hellraiser films might initially appear to be simply
an overtly masculine figure with no homosexual tendencies due to his macho behaviour and lack
of codified appearance, but he nevertheless, can be considered a closeted homosexual figure.
Similar to Barker’s Nightbreed, which as outlined in the previous chapter suffered significant
studio interference, Hellraiser’s original homoerotic undertones present in the original novella
was significantly suppressed. The character of Frank was drastically changed tonally through a
redubbing process, and some of his more risqué and homoerotic background characterization
was altered for the film. As noted by Chapman (Frank), “I’m playing someone who’s fearless . . .
sexually fearless, spiritually fearless” (“Becoming Frank”). In actuality, however, Frank’s sexual
behaviour is significantly tame in comparison to his novella counterpart. The most significant
example of the neutering of Frank’s sexuality is his first sexual encounter with Julia; in the film
the couple engage in a more consensual, almost romantic relationship, whereas in the novella he

42

See pp. 246-248.

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skips any “niceties of a seduction” by “[giving] way to cruder stuff almost immediately . . .
[with] all the aggression and the joylessness of rape” (Barker 35). This scene alludes to Frank’s
plausible homosexual tendencies, as it is heavily implied that he engaged in acts of sodomy with
Julia, as the ‘cruder,’ more ‘aggressive’ act of anal sex was likely conducted by Frank during
their coupling. Although only implied, such an act would give credence to the idea that Frank has
homosexual tendencies and might be using his overt masculinity and suppression of women as a
means to elevate his compromised ego and self-worth as a dominant male figure. Frank’s
absorption of his brother’s bodily fluids and skin further emphasizes his dominance as an ‘alpha
male’ figure of overt masculinity as he takes over the more feminine figure of his brother Larry
who is weaker and sexually unappealing in comparison to himself; however, this act could be
interpreted as yet another instance of Frank’s incestuous and homoerotic tendencies, since he
both penetrates and absorbs his brother’s body (and other men) in a borderline sexual act.
Frank’s donning of Larry’s skin and voice as his own, ultimately highlights a willingness of
Frank’s to inhabit a more feminine body, while also finding unexpected pleasure by being inside
another man. Additionally, Barker’s own injection of himself into Frank43 as a means to explore
“the seduction of discovery – knowing the self, experiencing the power of imagination, or
embracing the other – and experiencing the flesh we inhabit” (Ní Fhlainn, “The Devil and Clive
Barker,” 209), is possibly an attempt to better understand his own struggles with sexuality.
Barker has claimed to have engaged with several relationships with older women during a radio
interview prior to identifying as a Gay man (Loveline), which could explain why the character of
Frank could at least be a plausible stand-in for the author’s own experiences with closeted

43

Similarly to how Frank inhabits Larry.

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homosexuality and pursuit of heterosexual relationships where there was actually little-to-no
desire.
Another more crucial aspect of the studio’s interference with Frank’s character was the
decision to redub his voice and not use actor Sean Chapman’s voice for the final cut of the film.
The studio ultimately went with a very gruff, and traditionally American ‘macho’ dry voice over
Chapman’s more subtle and softer British voice. A large reason for this dubbing change was that
it was likely to appeal to an American audience, as the location of the film was changed from
Britain to the U.S., despite being filmed in the U.K. with Chapman and several of the film’s
other characters having British accents.44 The cynical viewpoint would suggest that perhaps the
studio also wanted to further downplay the homosexual subtext with Frank’s character by
making his character sound gruffer and overtly masculine in an attempt to cover-up and closet
this character. Chapman summarizes the original vision he and Barker had for Frank when
discussing the dub:
It’s disappointing because I think they missed some of the colours that you give vocally
when you do a scene . . . the character I played with Julia wasn’t quite as black and white
as the dub makes it, there were moments of tenderness, and there were moments of
connection that were slightly more nuanced and coloured.
Hellbound would see Chapman return to the role of Frank, and this time the film included his
original voice performance in addition to his physical performance; as such, Frank appears far
more vulnerable and emotional in his interactions with Kirsty and Julia, dismantling the
perceived vision of Frank as a dominant and overtly masculine figure. His portrayal in

44

See the documentary, “Leviathan: The Story of Hellraiser” for a more detailed breakdown of New Line’s
influence on the relocation and redubbing of the film during the post-production phase.

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Hellbound is far more vulnerable and pathetic than his image in the first film, and comes across
as subservient to Kirsty and Julia who have only become stronger during his absence. Frank
becomes a failure of the Victorian Gothic era’s belief that men were less corruptible in their
sexual desires. Instead, he becomes a degenerate who engages with homosexual acts,45 while
even the monstrous seductress and ‘subservient’ figures of both Julia and Kirsty respectively are
elevated in the absence of the overtly male figure.
Nightbreed’s studio interference has already been covered in this thesis; however, its
importance within the context of overt masculinity as a cover for closeted homosexuality is
equally crucial to discuss. As noted previously, studio decisions to edit the film and trailers to
make the monsters in the film appear more horrific and villainous, directly makes the
homophobic character of Captain Eigerman and his lackeys appear more justified and heroic
than they otherwise would be; furthermore, the film’s edited version removed certain scenes of
the more risqué or homosexually oriented monsters in Boone’s introduction scene to Midian and
its inhabitants. In a way, the motives behind the censorship of the film likely was influenced by
the desire to appeal to the core demographic of the slasher horror film subgenre – young men,46
and the studio’s unwillingness to support the closeted homosexual monsters of Nightbreed only
highlights the societal pressures surrounding the fragile male ego and its unwillingness to accept
the ‘Other’ without risking their own sexual dominion. Despite the censorship, one can look at
the studio interference with Nightbreed as a perfect meta-narrative for the politic zeitgeist
surrounding the homosexual ‘Other,’ and the need for patriarchal society to suppress the sexual

45

Degenerate for the Victorians, not the act of homosexuality as degenerate in and of itself.
Clover discusses this aspect on xii of her preface and throughout the chapters “Her Body, Himself,” and “The Eye
of Horror.”
46

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‘Other’ as a means to uphold the status quo and appease the fragile male ego of its audience
members.
The importance of overt masculinity and its utilization as a weapon by male fragile egos
who feel threatened by the codified homosexual figures of Midian is a crucial aspect in the film
Nightbreed. The leading antagonists, Decker and Captain Eigerman both have their own hatred
towards the Night Breed -the former (Decker) hates all sexuality and could ultimately care less if
they were homosexual or not; however, the latter (Eigerman) seems to hate them for their
differences as a sexual ‘Other.’ He views them as a perceived threat to his community’s values
and to his dominance as an overtly masculine figure. The figure of Eigerman is certainly an
overtly masculine figure in the story: his tough behaviour, aggressiveness, muscly body, and
hatred of weakness, shows no surface level instance of homosexual tendencies. There is,
however, evidence to suggest that his hatred towards the Night Breed is a result of his own
closeted homosexuality; for example, Eigerman revels at the idea of stripping Boone down and
beating him because of his differences; he calls people faggots for being weak and not ‘manly’
like the hapless character Father Ashberry, and he seems to seek the approval and justification
for his behaviour from his peers, his community, and society. Although this could all be waved
off as the traits of an unnuanced and bigoted character, it seems to be a relatively common trope
in film that the overtly masculine jock or the authority figure can turn out to be a closeted
homosexual, as both the character of the slasher villain Bobby (Jon Abrahams) from Scary
Movie and Coach Schneider from Freddy’s Revenge suggest.
The appeal of the authoritative figure being a closeted homosexual is an attractive
narrative for the queer community and queer theory in general, as it allows the community to
fight back and dismantle the very institution of overt masculinity and fragile male egos that so

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oftentimes stigmatize and ‘closet’ them. Jordan Schildcrout, author of “The Closet is a
Deathtrap,” argues the importance queer resistance to authority and police harassment has had on
queer culture, and cites that “the 1969 Stonewall Riots have taken on symbolic significance in
queer culture and politics in part because that queer uprising against police harassment
functioned so successfully as public performance” with the event standing as “a moment of
public resistance when queers stormed ‘out of the closet and into the street’” (43). The resistance
of the Night Breed in the film directly parallels that of the 1969 Stonewall Riots, where the
homosexual monsters rise up against the police brutality and the societal oppression enforced by
Eigerman and his redneck comrades. Eigerman’s defeat comes at the cost of his overt
masculinity and need to fulfil his fragile ego of being the dominant sexual entity, with the
character eventually conceding defeat to the nearly converted monster of Ashberry. He says to
Ashberry to “take me with you” (Nightbreed) after the priest devolves his plan to hunt and kill
the Breed. After Eigerman has been defeated and shown that he is not the overtly dominant
sexual male figure he pretends to be, his façade disappears and he begs for acceptance into the
community he feels that he rightly belongs to (the Night Breed ‘Other’); however, instead
Ashberry murders Eigerman for his weakness and transgressions, and does not convert him into
one of the Breed.
Although it would be problematic to suggest that overt masculinity significantly equates
to closeted homosexuality, it nevertheless, is a persistent aspect within popular culture and
societal discourse, and as such, one should not consider that all examples of overt masculinity
within the body horror subgenre equates to closeted homosexuality. One must consider these on
a case by case basis. For example, besides Seth Brundle’s connection to the Gay community as a
result of the general public’s and critics’ misassociation of the AIDS virus with the biological

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transformation of Brundlefly, Seth demonstrates no homosexual tendencies or subtext during the
events of the film. Seth simply appears to fall into a trap of destructive behaviour caused by his
overt masculinity and the false notion that he is sexually superior to the being he was prior to the
transformation. On the other hand, one could suggest that there is a homosexual subtext to the
protagonist of Cronenberg’s Shivers, since Roger demonstrates no sexual desire or arousal with
respect to the figure of Nurse Forsythe or to any of the other women he encounters, and
demonstrates significant feelings of discomfort when confronted by two codified homosexuals
who metaphorically ‘trap’ Roger into his own ‘closet’ when he takes refuge in an apartment. In
either case, whether intentional or not, overt masculinity oftentimes appears in the horror genre
as a cover for closeted homosexuality.
The Failed Ego: Body Horror’s Dismantling of Overt Masculinity
Perhaps the most important way contemporary body horror has attempted to push a more
progressive narrative in comparison to both its origins in the Gothic fin de siècle and its
contemporary slasher film subgenre, is its dismantling of the patriarchal narrative that overt
masculinity is the dominant force of sexuality and is solely responsible for continued societal and
cultural improvement. As body horror films, such as Hellraiser and Nightbreed show, overt
masculinity and the Victorian Gothic narrative’s ideal of male sexual and evolutionary
superiority, (perpetrated by classics like The Time Machine), is not only a problematic viewpoint
to have, but is factually incorrect. As previous chapters have demonstrated, both women and the
sexual ‘Other’ (i.e., the homosexual and other members of the LGBTQ+ community) suffer as a
result of the patriarchal enforcement of these beliefs. Indeed, society as a whole suffers and
becomes stagnant by ignoring and stigmatizing these individuals; furthermore, the ‘ideal’ and
‘superior’ male figure of societal and evolutionary dominance has been shown to be shaky at

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best. The fragility of the male ego is an aspect body horror attempts to address and fully
dismantle by demonstrating the direct harm it causes to every member of society, largely because
of the emphasis on it as an overcompensation and admittance by the patriarchy that male
superiority is simply a myth perpetrated by conservative beliefs and values.
The character of Frank from the first two Hellraiser films is a deeply flawed and
destructive figure in the story’s narrative who directly contradicts the image of the Victorian
Gothic’s ideal male figure leading society into a brighter evolutionary future as presented in
Victorian literature and theory. Unlike his female counterparts, Frank is a degenerate, who
causes the social and cultural contamination of degeneration in his own family and beyond.
Similar to other figures, such as Seth Brundle from Cronenberg’s The Fly, it is the uncontrolled
male ego of sexual dominance and lust that causes the ruination of those closest to him,
corrupting the female characters with whom they are intimately involved. Frank directly corrupts
and turns Julia into an adulterous murderer for his own selfish needs and because it makes him
feel sexually dominant over women and feminine men like his brother, while also causing further
damage to his family by absorbing and murdering his own brother before attempting to rape his
niece Kirsty on multiple occasions; on the other hand, Seth causes mental anguish and plausible
biological harm to his girlfriend Ronnie, who simply wants him to abandon his degenerate
behaviour and experiments and re-establish a traditional romantic relationship. In both of these
examples, women are shown to be rational beings who are only corrupted by the ‘dominant’
male figures in their lives; in fact, the seductress figure of Julia is even responsible for saving the
life of her niece by killing Frank (although, admittedly, this is likely out of a selfish desire for
revenge).

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More critical to the discussion of the dismantling of the fragile ego of overt masculinity
in the horror film genre, is body horror’s willingness to both directly and indirectly suggest that
closeted homosexuality and the fear of the sexual ‘Other’ are key factors in the abject failure of
overt masculinity to assert that it is the dominant sexuality and force of societal, cultural and
evolutionary advancement for humankind. The toxic masculine characters in Hellraiser and
Nightbreed (Frank and Captain Eigerman), are shown to have at least some homosexual
tendencies or subtext to explain their overt masculinity and need to be accepted by their peers as
the dominant sexual force. Frank’s homoerotic origins in The Hellbound Heart and his elated
murdering and absorption into his brother’s body (among other male victims), showcase an
individual who is uncomfortable in their own body and sexuality, ultimately finding sexual
freedom inside another (more ‘feminine’) man. Eigerman’s own macho behaviour,
unprecedented hatred towards codified homosexual monsters, his gleeful excitement at the
prospect of beating a naked Boone, and his desire to join Ashberry as another monster, present a
character whose own overt masculinity is simply a front for closeted homosexuality and the
inferiority such feelings bring to him as a sexual being in his society. Both Frank and Eigerman
could be viewed as meta-narratives for the author Clive Barker and his own struggles with
understanding and accepting his own sexuality and experiences with the flesh as he is a Gay man
who likely struggled with his sexual identity during the 1980s; however, more importantly these
characters demonstrate the following:
The idea that appearance and behaviour do not necessarily indicate sex—indeed, can
misindicate sex—is predicated on the understanding that sex is one thing and gender
another; in practice, that sex is life, a less than-interesting given, but that gender is
theater. (Clover 58)

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Essentially, Frank and Eigerman’s sex should not be considered as a means to elevate or
diminish them as sexual beings of superiority like the Victorian Gothic fin de siècle or slasher
subgenres would encourage; rather it should be their identified gender which should be analyzed
and critiqued. Neither of these figures is at fault or harmful to society because of their sex, but it
is their gender of overt masculinity, veiled as plausible closeted homosexuality, which make
them such disruptive figures. The Victorian Gothic fin de siècle authors and critics failed to look
beyond the sex and ‘flesh’ of the individual, and instead decided that the ‘performance’ of
gender was not important. As impartial judges, the Cenobites and Night Breed ask those who
would criticize a being based on their sex or body, to judge them more on their life desires and
the actions they take in pursuit of them.
Indirectly, the censorship and desire of studios to push a narrative that removes all forms
of homosexual subtext, appears to be a poorly veiled attempt to appeal to their core, mostly
younger male audience who likely crave the desire to feel sexually dominant by idealizing overt
masculinity and suppressing all forms of feminine or ‘Other’ sexualities. The redubbing of
Frank’s voice and altering of his homoerotic background in the novella or the reediting and
neutering of Nightbreed into a more traditional slasher film that portrayed the homosexual
monsters as more villainous, each have the unfortunate side-effects of making these influential
body horror films less progressive than they otherwise could have been; however, by censoring
these films, the studios help demonstrate the significant counter-discourse these narratives
attempted to advance in comparison to their slasher counterparts. These films validate claims
made by film critics like Clover, Benshoff, and Creed, that horror films, particularly slashers, are
made for a male audience and discourage alternative sexualities that would deconstruct the
fragile male ego of overt masculinity as the dominant sexual force in society; furthermore, their

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censorship and edited final product can be seen as a meta-narrative for the continued suppression
of women and the sexual ‘Other’ in society—a far more powerful message than any progressive
narrative could tell.

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Conclusion
The body horror subgenre has made great strides in developing a more progressive
narrative and understanding in the horror film genre in regards to the body, sex, and a person’s
sexual orientation. In contrast to its origins in the Victorian Gothic fin de siècle and its
contemporary, the slasher subgenre, body horror attempts to deconstruct patriarchal societal
beliefs regarding male sexual dominance, and the inferiority of both women and the sexual
‘Other.’ Although the body horror subgenre during the late twentieth century is not inherently
progressive by nature, since there are many troublesome stereotypes and beliefs such as the
notion that the LGBTQ+ community are inherently victims, it should be recognized as a step
towards more inclusive and progressive narratives than the admittedly sexist and homophobic
slasher films of the 1980s; (e.g., such as the Friday the 13th series). If more modern body horror
films such as Ginger Snaps, Jennifer’s Body and It Follows (2014) can be recognized for their
progressive representations of the female reproductive cycle, toxic masculinity, feminine issues,
and Gay positivity, than one must recognize the movement that began this positive trend in the
horror film genre.
As examined in chapter one, the prevailing Victorian two sex theory which regards
women as inferior to men, is the driving force within Gothic fin de siècle English literature. This
theory led to women being represented as either dangerous seductresses or monstrous mothers
who would bring about the ruination of men and society through a degenerative tainting of
society. Victorian Gothic fin de siècle female characters like the Beetle in Richard Marsh’s novel
The Beetle, presented the image of women as a dangerous force of corruption through their
‘animalistic’ sexuality and ‘unnatural’ reproductive bodies. Despite being directly inspired by the
works of fin de siècle authors as Marsh and Arthur Machen, body horror filmmakers such as

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Ridley Scott, David Cronenberg, and Clive Barker, began to dismantle these preconceived
notions regarding the female form and sex. Cronenberg’s Shivers is one such example, it presents
a narrative in which societal constraints concerning sex and sexuality are completely
disregarded.
In Shivers, Cronenberg offers the audience a scenario in which phallic parasites turn
people into sexual ‘deviants’ who are free to pursue their sexual desires without any societal
pressures or consequences. Cronenberg’s film presents patriarchal and evangelical beliefs
regarding the sanctity of marriage as a constraining aspect of society, exemplified through the
loveless marriage of Nick and Janine Tudor, in addition to portraying the men in the film as both
ignorant and dismissive of the sexual and emotional needs of the women in Starliner Towers.
The characters of Janine, Nurse Forsythe and Betts all suffer as a result of the societal constraints
forced upon them. Janine is forced into a loveless marriage, while Betts is forced to disregard her
own feelings towards Janine due to societal taboos. Nurse Forsythe, the seductress of the film, is
first presented as yet another victim of societal constraints like Janine and Betts, since she is
unable to pursue a romantic relationship with Roger who seems to ignore her sexual advances
and treats their relationship as a societal taboo because of their work relationship. Unlike the
Victorian fin de siècle Gothic seductresses on which she is based, Nurse Forsythe is never
presented as a monster in the film, and is instead offered to the viewer as a victim of societal
constraints regarding taboo relationships and the perceived inferiority of women. Cronenberg’s
film challenges patriarchal beliefs regarding the role of women within society as sexual objects
to be conquered and then disregarded. In the parasitic society of Shivers, Cronenberg shows his
viewer that the feared societal degeneration of a sexually liberated female form (i.e., the
Victorian seductresses), is actually a positive force that prevents cultural stagnation. The dreary

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and miserable conditions under which the women in the film have to suffer because of societal
and evangelical constraints regarding sexual taboos, clearly prevents them from living a fulfilling
and productive life. The true degenerates in the film like Nick and Dr. Hobbes, are left free to
corrupt and taint society through their own nefarious and exploitative treatment of the women
around them, which directly contradicts Victorian degeneration theory regarding the corrupting
force of women and the superiority of men. Shivers liberates its female characters and presents
them as unwilling victims to the whims of societal beliefs regarding the purity of the female
form. If viewed through the lens of liberation theory in which “individuals from any and every
group are born with innate qualities of brilliance and the infinite capacity to be happy and
successful” and simultaneously “maintain[ing] that brilliance and the capacity to succeed are
innate, while misinformation that is oppressive is learned” (Linda Holtzman, Media Messages,
19), then it can be stated that the sexually liberated female characters in Shivers and Species have
demonstrated to women that this patriarchal behaviour can be unlearned.
Ridley Scott’s Alien further deconstructs the Victorian fin de siècle’s villianization of
women, particularly the female reproductive cycle and its presentation as foreign, unnatural and
animalistic, while simultaneously arguing that motherhood is an inherently pure and positive
evangelical force in society. In Alien and its subsequent sequels, Aliens and Alien 3, the
monstrous reproductive cycle of the Xenomorph creature demonstrates the very real stigma of
the female reproductive form as an animalistic, dangerous, and unnatural force. The film plays
into society’s greater fear regarding the female form’s capability to create and birth new life by
creating a horrific and painfully unnatural birthing process of the Xenomorph alien creature.
Alien demonstrates the ‘othering’ process caused by birthing imagery and the reproductive
capabilities of the female form, presenting the Xenomorph birth as an animalistic and grotesque

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process helps to demonstrate the blatant contradiction of evangelical Victorian beliefs
concerning the role of motherhood as a distinctly pure process. Additionally, the ship AI
‘Mother’ and other body horror mothers such as Nola in The Brood are presented to the audience
as intrinsically negative and harmful entities, which threaten to either reabsorb or destroy their
children for their own selfish needs. Despite the negative stigma and ‘othering’ of the female
reproductive form as either a corruptible force which threatens the livelihood of their children or
as a monstrous and grotesque animalistic form, protagonist Ripley notably represents all the
positive traits of motherhood, (selflessness and unconditional love), in her pseudo-children. Alien
aims to criticize the ‘othering’ of the female reproductive form by showing its viewer that
motherhood is neither inherently positive nor negative, instead arguing that it is patriarchal
society’s construction of the female form which shapes negative attitudes towards motherhood
and birth –an aspect that is shared with Species.
Species analyzes and dismantles both the seductress and monstrous mother tropes of the
Victorian fin de siècle novel. The character of Sil encompasses both the Victorian Gothic
seductress and monstrous mother. In comparison to the Xenomorph in the Alien franchise, Sil is
described by the scientists in the film as an invasive and animalistic species which threatens the
very survival of the human species. Although Sil’s alien society subliminally instructs her to
conceive a child through her erotic dreams (an obvious stand-in for patriarchal evangelic beliefs
being forced on women to fulfill their role in society as mothers), Sil experiences significant
pushback throughout the film from both the scientists and potential suitors. The scientists in the
film are representative of Victorian Gothic values regarding the belief that women are inferior to
their connections to the animalistic world, which directly threatens the existence of societal
progress, while her potential suitors reveal the paradox of a patriarchal society which only values

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women as sexual objects to be conquered. Sil is constantly at odds with her patriarchal alien
‘upbringing’ as the importance of women for their reproductive qualities is downplayed in
favour of their sexual role to fulfill male gratification. She is constantly surrounded by media
which encourages her to be more sexual, but is punished whenever she tries to act on her desires
to conceive a child. If the Alien franchise and The Brood convey the evangelical/patriarchal
message that women are valued in society for their importance as mothers, then Species argues
that this message is a mere farce that hides the more sinister truth of women being objects for
men to conquer and discard. In both cases, body horror dismantles the notion that either message
is a positive aspect in modern society, and condemns Victorian fin de siècle tropes of the
seductress and monstrous mother being inherently negative aspects in society. Ultimately, body
horror condemns the Victorian fin de siècle novel and slasher film for punishing women who act
on their sexual desires.
As addressed in chapter two, the homosexual or sexual ‘Other’ is a prominent negative
entity in both the Victorian Gothic fin de siècle novel and modern slasher film. Victorian
degenerationists believed that the homosexual was a social contagion which threatened the very
fabric of societal evolution, and as a result, the homosexual or sexual ‘Other’ was deemed an
unwanted and corrupting taint on society. Although the modern slasher adapted the homosexual
or sexual ‘Other’ as a threat to society and masculinity, body horror presents the homosexual and
other members of the LGBTQ+ community in a much more positive light. Instead of presenting
the homosexual as a degenerate member of society, the body horror homosexual is portrayed as a
victim of societal segregation. Instead of making the homosexual or sexual ‘Other’ as a monster
hell bent on the ruination of society, the body horror subgenre demonstrates to its viewer that the
LGBTQ+ community are just people who have been unjustifiably turned into ‘monsters’ by

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patriarchal societal narratives; patriarchal values suggest that monstrous characters are a threat to
‘normal’ society in the case of Nightbreed, and in the case of The Fly may have influenced the
tendency of critics to equate Seth’s transformation with the AIDS crisis during the 1980s.
Cronenberg’s The Fly has largely become accepted as a gay-positive film that addresses
the AIDS crisis and its relationship to the Gay community during the 1980s. Although this was
not the stated intent of Cronenberg, the film has since been regarded by academics and critics as
such, ensuring that a significant portion of the public would view the film as commentary on the
AIDS crisis and the homosexual monster. The Fly attempts to humanize the figure of Seth (later
Brundlefly) as a victim of a disease, not as a victim of (homo)sexuality. The film takes a similar
approach to Cronenberg’s Shivers in the way it deconstructs patriarchal, conservative society’s
stance on sexuality as an element that encourages societal degradation and horrific disease.
Throughout the film, the audience experiences the tragic downfall of Seth/Brundlefly, resulting
in the viewer having empathy for this codified homosexual monster and his unfortunate
circumstance. The film ultimately attempts to deconstruct the Christian evangelist and patriarchal
societal understanding that sexuality is a horrific aspect of the human body which has resulted in
the outbreak of a disease inflicted by a vengeful God. Seth’s impassioned speech of looking
beyond the flesh and into the ‘plasma pool’ of human genetics, is an inherently progressive
message that begs its audience to reconsider sexuality in its all forms, and to take a more
metaphysical approach towards our bodies. By dismantling societal constructs about human
sexuality, The Fly encourages sexual liberation for all in addition to challenging Christian
evangelical and patriarchal discourses that there is only one ‘pure’ expression of human sexuality
(i.e., the monogamous Christian matrimonial relationship). Most importantly to the argument
that The Fly pushes a more progressive narrative is its focus on the homosexual monster as a

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victim instead of an antagonist in stark contrast to the fin de siècle or slasher homosexual figure.
Nightbreed takes an alternative approach to The Fly by attempting to make the homosexual
monsters of the films victims of societal pressures and authority instead of presenting them as a
disease.
The homosexual ‘monster’ is never villianized in Barker’s intended cut of Nightbreed,
and the subsequent censoring or suppression of a positive representation of the homosexual and
sexual ‘Other’ monster by the studio provides further evidence of the exploitation and oppression
of this minority group in the late twentieth-century horror film. Nightbreed’s subsequent
financial and critical failure likely comes as a result of missing out on what “Entertainment
Weekly dubbed…‘the Gay 90s,’ in which, according to Ron Becker, author of “Prime-Time
Television in the Gay Nineties,” “Gay-themed television…[was] the programming trend of the
nineties” (389). Furthermore, Becker suggests that network television “incorporated gay and
lesbian material into their prime-time lineups in order to attract an audience of ‘sophisticated,’
upscale, college-educated and liberally minded adults” (389), which was considered a desirable
and financially lucrative group to appeal to during the 1990s. It looks as if the body horror
subgenre just missed the financial and commercial success of appealing to the LGBTQ+
community during the 1990s, as the ‘Gay 90s’ programming of network television also applies to
the film industry with such examples as the commercially and critically successful Gay/sexual
‘Other’ oriented films: The Crying Game (1992) and Boys Don’t Cry (1999) demonstrate.
However, despite missing out on the initial financial and critical success of the ‘Gay 90s,’ the
body horror subgenre and films like Nightbreed have endured as examples of counter-cultural
discourse and anti-authority in the era of Reagan and Thatcher neo-liberal conservatism and the
unchecked capitalist greed of the 1980s.

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The authoritarian fields of science, religion, and law within Nightbreed are shown to be
highly flawed systems that can encourage and promote problematic beliefs surrounding the
behaviour of the homosexual and sexual ‘Other’ and their images as horrific monsters and
threats. Decker’s character represents the remnant of the Gothic Victorian medical belief that
homosexuality is a disease to be ‘cured’ or contained. Moreover, Decker’s character represents
an invasion by patriarchal discourse and the less progressive slasher subgenre, to subvert the
narrative and plight of the homosexual monster by reinforcing the factually incorrect belief that
homosexuality is monstrous and the cause of social contagion. The drunkard priest Ashberry is
shown to be a hypocritical figure of far-right religious propaganda, which aims to push a
narrative that they are in-fact suppressing the homosexual for the homosexual’s own benefit,
while simultaneously working to prevent a homosexual ‘agenda’ from overtaking and corrupting
society. Captain Eigerman and his goon forces are revealed to be homophobic and homicidal
maniacs who utilize the superior fields of science and religion as an excuse and justification for
their abuse and oppression of the homosexual monster because of their own fragile masculine
egos. In addition to demonstrating the flaws of authoritarian figures by providing evidence of
their oppressive and hypocritical behaviour, Nightbreed argues that it is patriarchal conservative
society and is authoritarian figures which are causing the degradation and stagnation of society
through their oppression of all sexuality.
As examined in chapter three, addressing and critiquing overt masculinity is the last
major element that late twentieth-century body horror film aims to critique and dismantle.
Drastically different from its origins in the Victorian Gothic fin de siècle or its contemporary
peer of the slasher subgenre, body horror portrays overt masculinity as a toxic and harmful
element of society in comparison to its former image as the positive, superior driving force of

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Western society. In Victorian Gothic fin de siècle literature, women and the sexual ‘Other’ were
perceived as inferior to men and at odds with societal improvement/evolution. Similar to the
twentieth-century slasher film, the fin de siècle novel reinforces the male notion that they are the
superior being in society, and as a result, women and the sexual ‘Other’ were transformed into a
villainous force of opposition that threatened the male ego and accepted superiority belief.
Unlike the slasher film which aims to appeal to a male demographic in its representation of
women, the body horror subgenre presents the male ego as fragile and flawed; oftentimes
utilizing overt masculinity as a major character flaw within its male characters. This is clearly
evident in the films Hellraiser and Nightbreed which both portray male masculinity as
problematic, villainous, and self-deprecating.
Hellraiser’s main antagonist of the film, Frank, would fit in perfectly with the overtly
masculine heroes of the fin de siècle novel or slasher film; however, in Hellraiser, Frank’s
masculinity is not a force of positivity or heroism in the film’s narrative. Instead, Frank’s
character and overtly toxic masculinity directly leads to his family’s ruination and untold
suffering for the women his character would traditionally be expected to save from the
monstrous figures of the Cenobites. Frank commits adultery, murder, and an attempted rape of
his niece Kirsty in his vain attempt to fulfill his increasingly uncontrollable sexual desires and
need to be the dominant sexual force. Ultimately Frank is punished for his monstrous behaviour
when he is taken by the Cenobites and subjected to hellish torment for all eternity.
Similarly to Hellraiser, Nightbreed’s antagonistic forces in the narrative are almost
exclusively overt masculine forces. Captain Eigerman utilizes his positions of power to dominate
the codified ‘gay’ monsters of Midian. Eigerman in particular sees the monsters as a direct threat
to his authority within the community; they are deemed a direct threat to his masculinity and his

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need for sexual dominance. His toxic behaviour directly leads to the death of innocent men,
women, and children, which in-turn, makes Eigerman the biggest villain of the story, while
simultaneously turning the monstrous women and sexual ‘Others’ in Midian into the real victims
and heroes of the film. In the case of both Frank and Eigerman, overt masculinity is portrayed as
a toxic force within society, not as a heroic or beneficial aspect as presented in fin de siècle
Gothic tales or in the slasher film (which both favour male sexual superiority at the cost of
female and sexual ‘Other’ inferiority).
Overt masculinity also represents a plausible front for closeted homosexuality within the
body horror subgenre. Both Frank and Eigerman are closeted homosexuals, and this adds a
complex layer to the story; these characters commit horrendous acts in an attempt to hide their
closeted homosexuality and appear more masculine than they truly are. Frank’s delight at living
in his brother’s skin (i.e., living inside another man) and the subtle allusions to sodomy and
homoerotic tendencies likely resulted in his need to appear more sexually dominant around the
women in his life than he otherwise likely would have had he felt more comfortable with his
homosexual side. On the other hand, Eigerman’s treatment of those around him could be viewed
as his own projection of self-doubt and hatred; for example, his treatment of Ashberry and the
monsters is quite cruel and homophobic, referring to them as ‘faggots’ and other derogatory
terms until Ashberry transforms into a codified gay monster, after which Eigerman has a sudden
change of heart and wishes to join him. The delightful downfall of Eigerman highlights the
importance of queer resistance to authority and police harassment according to critics such as
Jordan Schildcrout; subsequently, Eigerman’s fall from sexual dominance is a metaphorical
stance by the body horror film to take the side of the homosexual ‘Other’ by demonstrating the

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real-world harm unchecked, toxic masculine behaviour and patriarchal narratives of suppressing
the LGBTQ+ have upon the community.
Contemporary analysis of the body horror subgenre is still relatively limited, but critics
such as Benshoff, Creed and Clover have highlighted the damaging effects patriarchal discourse
has had on horror film. Through their analysis of mainly the slasher subgenre, these critics have
demonstrated the sexist and homophobic elements present within these films. In comparison, this
thesis has utilized this material to demonstrate that the body horror subgenre has made
significant strides in developing a more progressive narrative and approach to horror storytellingone that favours diversity, and the dismantling of toxic masculine representations of women and
the LGBTQ+ community as inferior beings. Hurley’s detailed examination of the Victorian
Gothic fin de siècle novel in regards to the body, sex, and sexual identity provides an important
baseline with which one can see that body horror filmmakers like Cronenberg and Barker made
the conscious decision of dismantling the subgenre’s patriarchal narratives of male superiority
and female/sexual ‘Other’ inferiority, to develop a more progressive and truthful representation
of sex and one’s sexual identity. Although the body horror subgenre is not without its
shortcomings when it comes to representation as addressed within this thesis, there is evidence
that the subgenre during the late twentieth century demonstrated an attempt to develop more
complex and progressive narratives in regards to human sexuality, the body and sex in
comparison to its peer the slasher and its earlier expression of the sexual ‘Other,’ the Victorian
Gothic fin de siècle novel. Furthermore, the current landscape of body horror films, such as
Ginger Snaps (2000), Jennifer’s Body (2009), It Follows (2014), Raw (2016), and Get Out
(2017) demonstrate the ongoing trend within the subgenre to push progressive and critical
viewpoints of society, the body, sex, and sexual orientation.

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