Problematic 90s Women in Horror

 

Problematic 90s Women in Horror

by Kristin Battestella

The classy ladies in this suspenseful trio of nineties horror suffer from dated problems, scary disservice, and shit men. Quelle surprise.

Angel of Death – Ominous windmill blades, rattlesnakes, and perilous farm equipment lead to creepy Rumpelstiltskin sketches and 4 a.m. phone calls from Attica as ever lovely mom Jane Seymour (Live and Let Die) is terrorized by an escaped convict in this 1990 TV movie. She's frazzled before the call – over protective, fighting with neighbors, late for work. The car won't start, money's tight, her son wants a bike for his birthday, and our art professor is passed over for a promotion thanks to her competition moving in on the department chair and her ex-husband. Rather than build this story, the action goes back and forth to an obviously small scale prison riot, terribly over the top thugs, and beatings punctuated with crescendos meant to be more shocking then they really are. The obsessed escapee read her children's book and fell in love with her author photo, but a vengeful prison guard is in pursuit in a dreadful tangent when none of the prison elements need to be shown. The convict moves in next door, watches them from a shady van, and signs up to be the nude model in her art class before beating a man with a hammer while the annoyingly friendly kid knocks on his door. He's just misunderstood mixed signals negate any too good to be true suspicious as family picnics and bedtime stories lead to romantic rooftop steamy. Our pathological liar tearfully tells her his family is dead – while leaving out how he murdered them! The expedited relationship is paced for commercial television breaks and the logistical leaps are preposterous, but it's uncomfortable how it all happens so fast and that today's tech makes such stalking even easier. It's also sad that she's so desperately stupid to let a stranger so close and wonders how he appeared right when she needed someone. We should have not known he's the killer until he bludgeons the slutty rival professor with her own sculpture amid campy feigned seduction, opera music, and blowtorches. Of course misogynistic detectives suspect our innocent mom thanks to frustratingly banal contrivances, and the dated paint by numbers padded with conflicting characterizations to meet the ninety minute movie of the week format does a disservice to Seymour. Supposedly romantic red flags moved toot suite however gunshots, confessions, and kids in peril turn laughable – dragging on alongside predictable car chases, fake deaths, pitchforks, and a fiery farm finale. Those Rumpelstiltskin passages he recites back to her? LOL.

Fear – Sirens, police chatter, and pulsing Henry Mancini music (Romeo and Juliet) jump right to the chase as psychic Ally Sheedy (The Breakfast Club) remotely traces a serial killer and detectives come to the rescue thanks to her vivid details in this 1990 thriller from writer and director Rockne S. O'Bannon (Farscape). She feels the disturbing killer urges and the terror of the bound victim in the backseat, doubling the discomfort despite the success on high profile cases, book tours, and talk show appearances. Although the VHS quality print is poor, old fashioned news bulletins, big televisions, and retro phones invoke nostalgia. The onscreen interviews let the aptly named Cayce explain her telepathy, but she wants to move on from true crime and strenuous killer manuscripts in favor of her own fiction. However, when another murderer strikes she offers police her services by revealing the hitherto unknown titular calling card written in blood. Paranormal eerie, choice gore in the refrigerator, and body shocks that don't dally like today's in your face aesthetics pepper the realistic crime scenes and straightforward procedural. Solitary moments in a new house with plastic still on the furniture lull viewers into a lonely routine before the mental connections strike again. We feel her strained, overwhelmed recounting of the crime because he wants his victims to be afraid. He knows what will scare them most, realizes Cayce can see him, and telepathically croaks out her name. The restaurant ambiance at the fancy publisher's dinner fades as the unseen killer intrudes on Cayce – taking her along for a fly on the wall view as he selects his next victim. He taunts her and uses “we” amid heavy breathing, mirrored actions, screams, and terror. She is unable to break his impression, and the mind's eye seeing herself from his perspective is meta provocative. The killer is one step ahead, the camera is behind, and the victim is our point of view thanks to blue lighting, zooms, and gauze focus that lets the performances carry the pain, fear, and violence. This is an abusive relationship and he won't let her leave as decoys and airport consequences raise the suspense. The so-called Shadow Man sends her perfume, shoes, and lingerie, but rather than take control of the fearful head games herself, Cayce falls back on a neighbor cum potential boyfriend to take action. Diverse Black and Asian detectives disappear from the pursuit even after their families are threatened, and power suit but kind and seemingly in love with Cayce book agent Lauren Hutton (Once Bitten) is underutilized. Chilling who's chasing whom realizations degrade into Hall of Mirrors hackneyed and a poor physical confrontation as the last half hour loses steam. What started so well if Eyes of Laura Mars backs into a corner with anticlimactic Strangers on a Train copycatting – unable to resolve the cat and mouse with psychic strength and sophistication.

Mary Reilly – Titular maid Julia Roberts (Pretty Woman) and Jekyll and Hyde John Malkovich (Dangerous Liaisons) lead this 1996 Stevenson inspired adaptation with rain, thunder, cobblestones, and nighttime dreary setting the gothic mood. Moonlit rooftops and sharp, from the window skylines provide a whiff of German Expressionism as the master of the house stays up all night in his laboratory across the courtyard. The cramped, shabby downstairs is busy with aprons and vintage cookery while above shines with polished woodwork and silver trays. Footsteps on the staircase and screams in the night, however, suggest something afoot. Mary is squeamish over anatomy books, bloody linens, and bashing eels for dinner yet this is the safest, kindest place she has been since entering service at twelve. She lets Jekyll examine her scars and recounts an unemployed father turned drunkard who locked her in the pantry with a rat. This delicate touching and faint caressing is iffy not romantic, and we don't need to see the abusive flashbacks to realize the violent, changed man, Hyde parallels either. Implications of how nasty Mary's father was are better suggested when she cries in her sleep, but her anguish and candor with Jekyll is downplayed in favor of her characterization as a nosy, talkative maid who doesn't want the other servants to think she goes above her station. Of course, she repeatedly breaks their tedious protocols and wastes time planting a garden when there's no sunshine – a foolish girl fixating on her flaky master. Bloody brothel bed chambers after the unseen lusty Hyde nights and over the top blackmailing madame Glenn Close (Albert Nobbs) brighten the drab back and forth as Mary becomes the go between repeating the hear tell while both men toy and manipulate her in a predatory, but ultimately nothing burger love triangle. Jekyll tells her to go the Hyde, Hyde talks as if Jekyll is also present, even ordering tea for two that Jekyll cancels when Mary brings it. Despite a sympathetic score accompanying the foggy kisses with Hyde, he verbally harasses Mary complete with a “Look what you made me do” non-apology. Roberts is miscast with a poor accent and period piece plain that doesn't suit her, yet the frustrating framework must remain in her point of view even as the Clark Kent/Superman lack of recognition becomes unbelievable. She lies to the police to protect Hyde, but Mary never learns or investigates, remaining a reactive character in overlong, uncomfortable relationships leading to knife play and an anti-climatic revelation with an almost comical transformation. Laboratory jars, creepy chains, and screams as Mary is nearly caught snooping aren't suspenseful because we're always aware the real story is elsewhere. This would have been better as an original gothic piece, but the crux as is isn't enjoyable for romance audiences or horror fans.