Tag Archives: Slashers

A Lot to Love in My Bloody Valentine

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When something like Valentine’s Day rolls around, it just feels like it sets the agenda. Sometimes I have trouble deciding what to write about on a given week, but in this case, it’s simple – just do something for the holiday (as with, for example, Christmas). But then what to do? Of course, there is the most obvious route, but maybe I should instead focus on some other romantic horror movie – like Return of the Living Dead Part III. I mean, if I discuss that most obvious choice, what new do I have to add? It’s a classic for a reason, and it’s not like no one’s ever written about it before. But sometimes, I can go easy on myself and do the obvious thing, right? And I sure do love My Bloody Valentine, so even if it’s already been much written about, in honor of this holiday all about love, let’s get into how much there is to love in this gory early-80s slasher classic.

I’ll avoid spoiling the big reveal at the end, but if you’ve never seen it before and have a soft spot for slashers, maybe just go check it out. It seems readily available on many streamers (though I’m not sure which version you’ll find).

My Bloody Valentine (1981)

First off, it should be said (because I expect much of this text may seem to contradict this) that George Mihalka really made a solid horror film.  I don’t remember if I found it scary per se on first viewing (and now I’ve seen it enough that scares are hard to come by), but it maintains a great spooky atmosphere both in and out of the mines, it features a lot of creatively conceived and brilliantly executed kill scenes as a killer in a miner outfit hunts down and murders loads of horny young people (among others), and it successfully taps into a great scary campfire tale/old murder ballad vibe that is just such a cool horror mood in which to dwell. It had the misfortune of being released amidst a backlash against violent movies and many of its grisliest moments were left on the cutting room floor, but over the years, much of that footage has been restored and it really is so well done – shocking and gross and just brutal. But really, even the most edited version I’ve seen still feels rough and mean when it comes to the killing. All in all, it is a really well-made, by-the-numbers slasher.

But that isn’t why I like it as much as I do. What raises it above so much of its competition is how much heart it has (in addition to how many hearts it rips out). I believe in the life of this small town of Valentine Bluffs. And I believe in and kinda love its residents. The work of the mine is hard and dark and dirty, and the world surrounding it is grey, dingy, smoggy, and run down. There is a natural impulse to rebel against this, to try to escape; and that is what one of the main characters, T.J., has tried to do. A Bruce Springsteen song made flesh, he’d had big dreams in some mythical ‘out west,’ and had escaped from his provincial hometown where he knew he was doomed to follow his father into the mining business and live a life of quiet desperation. But having escaped, he just failed hard and has come crawling back – to the town, to the mine, to Sarah, the girl he’d left behind. Of course, callously dropped by him when he ran away, chasing after something better, she’s moved on with T.J.’s buddy, Axel. You can’t go home again.

I will say that I have trouble caring much about this central love triangle, but I appreciate it in counterpoint to the relationships we see among so many of the other denizens of Valentine Bluffs. Sure, there are a few others who hope to one day blow town (such as the kid who gets drowned in boiling hotdog water before getting decapitated and having his heart boiled with the wieners – it is still a slasher flick), but so many of the other people we meet here have found something to hold onto in this small town life. And for a movie that features a head shoved onto a shower spigot till the water runs bloody out of the mouth, a pickaxe slammed up through someone’s chin till it knocks out an eyeball, and a nail gun being repeatedly discharged into someone’s cranium, the feeling I overwhelmingly take away from it all is just sweetness.  

We meet a number of other couples, or potential couples, and they seem genuinely happy. Early on, after finishing a hard day in the mines and goofing around in the showers, all of the guys race out to the parking lot like giddy schoolboys, not even fully dressed, their jeans around their ankles, tearing into town, so desperate to see their girlfriends and plan what they’re going to do for the upcoming Valentine’s Day dance at the union hall. When they burst in, six-packs in hand, there is a spark of joy. I believe how happy Hollis and Patty are to see each other, how excited Silvia and John are to be close, to touch, to get some private time together. Somehow, in this mean little slasher, I believe, and I actually like the romances of these secondary characters more than in most films that would actually be labeled ‘romantic.’

Relatedly, I really appreciate the film’s tactile sensuality. Though there is no nudity (a woman is in her bra at one point and the guys are all in the shower together, but they’re filmed from the waist up), there is often a sense of intimacy between characters that rings true as physical, as chemical. The film even opens with a surprisingly kinky moment as the killer has snuck a woman into the mine shafts. I don’t read this as premeditated murder – they seem like two young people who have spirited away here for some hard to find privacy (or just because it would be sexy to do it in the mine).

After taking off her coveralls, and eventually her gas mask, she goes to remove his, but he doesn’t want her to. So she strokes the mask and breathing tube, softly, tenderly, more sexually than what might be seen in another 80s slasher where girls are always taking off their tops. They’re just both really into the mask. Sadly, he then becomes aware of the heart tattoo on her breast and, hands trembling, impales her on a pick axe. But for all that it ends in murder, first there is a real feeling of (fairly fetishistic) sexuality and desire between them.

And it’s not just the young. Probably the sweetest relationship in the film is the tentative, shy, middle-aged flirtation between Police Chief Newby and Mabel, the proprietor of the local laundromat, thanks to whose decorating efforts, the town will hold its first Valentine’s Dance since the bloody unpleasantness twenty years earlier, and the whole otherwise depressed locale is covered head to toe in pink crepe paper and hearts. The state of their relationship is never quite defined, but I feel there’s more than affection and it’s not yet been acted on. I really feel for the poor guy when he finds her, heart ripped out, tumbling in one of her dryers.  

And that is something else that the film takes time for, which I always appreciate in my horror. There is actual grief – sometimes totally debilitating grief, which feels more realistic than many slashers where death comes cheap and the main feeling is the thrill of suspense. Chief Newby is so clearly hurt, but he has to do his job, and isn’t allowed to break down. However, some of the young lovers aren’t so steady. I just love how when John finds his girlfriend Silvia murdered in the mine’s showers, he just seems to totally snap. He doesn’t scream at first; nor does he cry. He just stops, and something inside him dies.

Later, he is useless – a blubbering mess of snot and sobs who has to be held up. It feels like this poor young man will never recover. And isn’t that what horror is supposed to be? Shouldn’t it be that devastating? Similarly, when the lovable Patty finds her even more endearing big teddy bear of a boyfriend, Hollis with nails sticking out of his face, she doesn’t have it in her to ‘be strong,’ to ‘be a survivor.’ She doesn’t want to leave his body behind, and she becomes a huge liability for the others – and I love it. Shouldn’t this be what death is like? It matters. Hollis mattered.

The murder scenes are all bravura sequences of filmic terror and really excellent practical effects, but the reactions to all of the murders are really heartbreaking, especially in light of the warm feelings that had preceded them. And somehow these two extremes support and reinforce each other in counterpoint rather than cancelling each other out.

Early on, the mayor is given a surprise box of Valentine’s chocolates, and he is so tickled. He wants to know who left the box for him and everyone is so coy in denying involvement. Soon after, in Chief Newby’s car, he giddily unwraps the box, saying, “if there’s one thing I like better than Christmas candy, it’s Valentine’s candy!” and it could be so silly, so cheesy, but he is really, really ecstatic about these sweets, and it just makes my heart grow. Of course then he gets it open and finds a bloody human heart inside along with a rhymed couplet warning him not to allow the dance to go on, and after his childlike excitement, his shock, revulsion, and sinking dread are all the more profound – it’s happening again.

Which brings us to the campfire tale. Like the story actually told by firelight at the start of The Fog, or Crazy Ralph’s ravings in Friday the 13th, here we have a local legend, based on historical fact, but which has grown in stature and weight over the years. As recounted by Happy, the grumpy old bartender who has to be one of the best ‘harbinger’ characters of horror cinema, the town of Valentine Bluffs used to have an annual Valentine’s dance and it was the biggest event of the year – something that the local residents could really look forward to and take pride in.

But twenty years ago, that all ended when the mine supervisors left some miners to go enjoy the party and the inevitable collapse doomed the only survivor, Harry Warden to madness and cannibalism, before he returned the next year to take his bloody revenge. But years go by, history becomes legend, and finally there are plans to bring the tradition back. Harry Warden’s been in an insane asylum for years – what could go wrong?

When people start having their hearts ripped out, it kicks off a thread of investigation and whodunit. Is Warden still locked up? Is he even still alive? Does anyone keep any kinds of records? Is he actually behind these slayings or has someone else taken up his mantle? The film plays with maintaining the possibility that any number of characters could be the killer and there is a solid red herring pretty close to the end. However, sadly, I will say that when the truth is finally revealed, I find it pretty underwhelming and the reason for it all feels more than a bit arbitrary. Whenever I have enough time between viewings, I always forget who the killer is because it just seems unjustified and inconsequential – but I suppose that means the suspense of wondering who it is will always be there… But more significantly, I feel the film just isn’t that interested in the killer’s story. It loves the folk tale, the murder ballad that looms over this small community. And it loves its characters, these people who have found life and love in this dismal setting, and who are murdered for it.

And that is one more way that this works as a Valentine’s Day movie. On one side, it is peopled with young (and old) lovers – and their attraction and the enjoyment they take in one another is palpable. But then there is a killer, whoever he is – whether a product of folklore or just some bitter guy – who, like many a lonely soul this time of year, just hates Valentine’s Day. When you don’t feel wanted, it is pretty harsh to be surrounded with such public displays of love and affection. How many single people counter program this occasion with horror marathons? And in the miner/killer, we have an embodiment of this sentiment – a person who is so triggered by a heart tattoo that he has to kill the girl he was about to have sex with, a person who is driven to madness by all the genuinely loving behavior around him, a person who even has to kill poor sweet Mabel, who just wanted to put on a nice dance, and maybe have a moment alone with the chief. The bitterness has metastasized and created a monster. It doesn’t matter who it is, or why, or how facile his reasons are. And in this I appreciate how the film doesn’t trade in the typical Reagan-era morality of sex = death. People aren’t punished for wanting sex – they are killed because some bitter person can’t abide to see their happiness.

And then the credits roll over an original folk song written for the film, the haunting “The Ballad of Harry Warden.” And as it plays, I already start forgetting who the killer was and I just linger a few minutes longer in the dark folk tale of it all. I look back on poor Mabel and Hollis and Patty and Silvia and John. I remember that this sad little town has a store called “OK Ladies Wear” – not ‘good,’ mind you, but ‘ok.’ I am struck by how lovely it was that a Valentine’s dance could be so important to these people and that for a brief, beautiful moment, before they were killed for it, there was love in this darkness.

An Early Self-Aware Slasher Classic: Slumber Party Massacre

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So, for the last few weeks, I’ve been focusing on the Slasher (particularly in its early 80s heyday) and its recurring protagonist, the Final Girl. But somehow, I’ve not yet devoted a post to just digging into one film. So, today, it’s time to remedy that with a discussion of a very special little movie, rather ahead of its time, which somehow threads the needle of not only balancing comedy and horror, but even more impressively, managing to be at once scary, deeply ironic, and heartfelt. It is at the same time a classic slasher, with tension and scares and brutality and gratuitous nudity, and a very sly deconstruction of that classic slasher, an occasionally hilarious, violent and gory, utterly feminist text, made during the height of the first slasher craze more than a decade before slashers would become anywhere near this self-reflexive. I’m talking, of course, of The Slumber Party Massacre.  I mentioned it recently in my run down of under-appreciated Final Girls, but it deserves more attention than that. I don’t know if I can get into what makes this such a unique movie without spoiling it, so if this sounds like it might be up your alley, go check it out first. I’m pretty sure it’s on at least Shudder and Tubi.

The Slumber Party Massacre (1982)

Based on a screenplay by author, Rita Mae Brown, Amy Holden Jones’s film succeeds, possibly accidentally, as both a straightforward body count flick and as a meta-commentary on the same. Financed by Roger Corman and distributed by his New World Pictures, first time director (she had previously been an editor) Jones had to work within a strict set of guidelines. Notably, the picture had to be short (longer films mean more reels and more canisters, and that all costs money), and there had to be plentiful nudity. This movie runs a tight 76 minutes and basically starts with one of the protagonists taking her top off. Balance that with the fact that it was written by Brown as a feminist parody of the then wildly popular Slasher formula, but Jones rewrote it, intending to film it straight, and you have a recipe for an odd, magical chimera of a film.  

The plot is as simple as can be. Trish, a high school senior, throws a slumber party with three of her friends to nostalgically relive childhood one last time before adulthood necessarily takes them their separate ways (I assume that their primary school slumber parties hadn’t included so many joints and beers and boys, but that’s kind of the point – the girls have already changed and that’s a genie that won’t be put back in the bottle). Trish wants to invite her neighbor, new girl, Valerie, but is too late in doing so and, feeling excluded, Valerie stays home to take care of her kid sister, Courtney (the three of them will eventually end up as the triumvirate final girl). Unbeknownst to all, an escaped murderer, Russ Thorn and his drill (with both an improbably long bit and an impossibly well-charged battery), is lurking about and will, by night’s end, claim 9 victims before the remaining girls manage to overcome him. Very simple – but that simplicity creates space for play.

First, the film is playful as a by-the-numbers Slasher.  Jones offers up a smorgasbord of false scares, one after another. Cats jump out of cupboards, carpenters drill holes through front doors just as someone is coming home, the camera implies a killer-pov psycho cam, sneaking up on a girl walking alone, only to have her flip the seeming assailant and discover that it’s just her hapless boyfriend. All of these and more come hard and fast following two initial kill scenes that firmly establish the brutal threat that Thorn represents.

But even when there is an actual attack, there is often a simultaneous comic undertone which makes for a strangely effective juxtaposition. For example, early in the film, we meet an attractive female phone company line worker, fixing something at the high school. Some boys lamely try chatting her up and then walk away. As they do so, an arm shoots out of the open door of her van, pulling her in. As the boys go off, amicably chatting, we see her screaming through her rear window before cutting to within the van where she’s bloodily drilled by Thorn. The violence of it is startling and severe – this is a horror movie and it does feel like it. However, the very moment that the arm snaps her into the vehicle, you can almost hear a “yoink,” and the obliviousness of the boys strolling away happily while she screams behind them has a whiff of the comic. Somehow, the fact this reads as funny doesn’t detract from the horror which lands seconds later, and similarly, the brutality of the attack doesn’t make the comedy feel heartless and cruel. It just is funny and then it is horrific.

Similarly, there is a great sequence in the climax (which seems to prefigure Butch on the way out of the pawn shop in Pulp Fiction) when the remaining girls are trying to fend off this psycho and Valerie finds herself in a basement workshop, desperately seeking a viable weapon. She picks up some small scissors – no good. She grabs a drill, but the bit is small and dinky. She finds a circular saw and runs the blade – great – this looks deadly, so she runs up the stairs only to have it yanked out of her hand because the extension cord isn’t long enough. Finally, she notices the giant machete that’s been in front of her all along. All of this intercuts with scenes of others, in terror, trying to survive the killer. It is intense, and exciting, and grim, but Valerie’s progression through potential tools is really a hoot.

But when the film wants to be scary, it is. Early on, when everyone is leaving school, one girl has to return to retrieve a book. The phone company worker dead in a dumpster, Thorn follows her in. There is a shot from above as she’s walking through the empty school gym to her locker that is really isolating. Visually, she seems so alone and small, so exposed in such a big space. She doesn’t know yet that there is a killer (though we do) and the combination of all this really contributes to an atmosphere of dread. The chase and kill that follow are capably shot and do not lack in tension, but this moment really stands out.

Where the film shines, however, and what makes it so memorable compared with its early 80s brethren, is its knowing relationship to its own tropes – the self-aware way that it fulfills the expectations of both its producers and viewers, and its subversion of those same expectations. I think it takes two approaches to this: being so on-the-nose that it becomes ironically ludicrous and directly, textually presenting gender roles counter to how one might expect. The latter is a bit simpler, so I’ll detail it first.

For all that it is filled with the requisite boobs and bloodletting of teenage girls, this is rather a women’s picture. Almost every speaking role is female – and this extends well past the main group of girls attending the party, presenting women in roles that would almost always be filled with men. We have the female phone company worker, doing manual labor; there is the girls’ coach (who tries to save the day later); and when the coach gets home, her handywoman is taking care of some home improvement. Furthermore, all of the main girls are athletes and we meet most of them at a basketball game, filmed to highlight their athletic prowess rather than just being an excuse to ogle them as they bounce up and down. The film passes the Bechdel Test in practically every scene, even when the girls are naked (which is not uncommon). They all have personalities and names and relationships and interests (especially sports, something often coded as a topic for boys to obsess over). And the girls are in control. There’s a funny exchange between the same two boys who had unsuccessfully hit on the phone worker as they decide to crash the slumber party:

Let’s go by and scare the girls tonight.
But we’re not invited.
Just a baby scare.
I mean, you know how girls love to scream.
I don’t know.
What’s the worst that can happen?
I mean, so they get mad at us.
They could beat the shit out of us.
That’s right, we did flunk gym.
Three times.

The men in this movie are in no way presented as braver, tougher, or more capable than the girls, and if anything, many are less so. At the same time, they’re also not set up exclusively as jerks, foils for the girls to play against. The next door neighbor wants to be helpful and supportive (he also wants to hunt snails with a meat clever by moonlight), and the teen boys are horny pranksters, but they’re also kind of sweet and really try to do the right, heroic thing, even if it doesn’t work out for them. In the end, the girls (three of them surviving, in a surprising spin on the ‘final girl’ trope) have to fight together to save themselves.

But of course, there is one key male figure, Russ Thorn, the killer, and he brings us to the other, more fascinating way that the film plays with expectations. In Thorn, the Freudian read on the Slasher killer (a sexually frustrated male sublimating libidinous desire into violence to compensate for his impotence) is consciously, explicitly, unambiguously on display. His weapon of choice is a giant, phallic drill, sometimes seen dangling between his legs. He is not at all cool – no enigmatic shape lurking in the darkness, no force of unspeakable evil beyond comprehension, no dark avenger striking out at those who have somehow transgressed in revenge for a past crime – he is just some guy. A crazy guy. A guy who wants to “drill” these young ladies. He doesn’t speak until the final scene, but when he does, it is obviously meant to suggest a common rapist: “You’re pretty – all of you are very pretty – I love you. It takes a lot of love for a person to do this. You know you want it. You love it.” This is all we get for his motivation. Nothing enigmatic – so obvious that it would be funny if it weren’t depressingly familiar.

Of course, in the end, Valerie uses her machete to chop his absurdly long drill bit in half, castrating him with such over-the-top symbolism that it flavors the primal scream of her attack with a kind of knowing laughter, but without undercutting the weight of the situation. Moments later, after the fight is finally done, the three survivors weep and shake and stare into the middle distance, horrified by loss that can never be repaired, by the extremity of the actions they have taken to survive. The momentary laugh does not rob the moment of its resonance. In this, the film has delivered the Slasher playbook to a tee, but the extent to which it so perfectly plays out the metaphor feels like a knowing wink – we know what we are watching – we know what the rules are – we know what this means (I don’t think it goes so far as to question these tropes – it is just showing what we expect to see, but it makes sure that we understand how to read what we’re watching). It never needs to communicate this textually, but the self-aware commentary is present nonetheless.

No scene in the film better plays with, and strikingly, draws attention to expectations by exceeding them, than after the basketball game at the beginning when the girls hit the showers (Corman famously declared that there should always be a shower scene in the first ten minutes – he was in the business of selling tickets). As the girls tell jokes and talk about the game they just played, the party they’re going to later, the respective merits of watching football or baseball on TV, and which player did what in the ballgame last night, a steady tracking shot slowly moves from one girl’s behind up to another’s breasts, to another’s back, before opening up to a wider shot to see all three as they soap themselves up and then zooming in again, down to that girl’s behind and up again as she turns, to catch her breasts, over to another’s back, before there’s an edit. The directness of the camera’s gaze draws attention to itself and its intention. It is showing what you’ve come to see, right – are you not satisfied? Never mind the fact that there’s nothing remotely sexual about the scene – though the camera’s gaze is direct, they aren’t filmed in a ‘sexy’ way, there is no sensual music to highlight voyeuristic pleasure, and they are discussing such quotidian, boring, normal things that friends might chat about. Is the camera audibly sighing, wondering if we can move onto something else yet? It almost feels like a thesis for the whole film.  But as I’ve already alluded to, somehow this ironic awareness, this distance, doesn’t kill the scares – doesn’t diminish the film’s effect as an effective exploitation, B-movie, low-budget horror film.

As I understand, critics at the time savaged Jones, accusing her of some kind of gender betrayal by so exploitatively filming female flesh and subjecting it to such violence. She has, over the years, lashed out at this, noting that, “nobody complains that Scorsese, Jonathan Demme, and Ron Howard made exploitation pictures, but when a woman tries, she gets called a hypocrite and a turncoat. That’s B.S.” She’s not wrong there, but I think she could go further. With the degree to which it is genuinely woman-centered; features a real-world, familiar threat in its clearly metaphoric rapist, while belittling Thorn in his phallic overcompensation; with its ironic, comic treatment of the audience’s desire to see boobies; with its female manual workers and athletes; and its constant presentation of women who get to be actual characters with friends and hopes and conversations about something other than men –all while never quite waving a “this is the message” banner, while in fact being a successful, suspenseful, playful, well made horror flick, I think it’s an absolute feminist meta-slasher masterpiece.  

Final Girls Books – The Final Chapter

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I feel that in the last few years, the trope of the “Final Girl” has really been having a moment. Of course, the character has been around since at least the mid-70s, and has been very present in horror cinema ever since, but lately, there’ve been a lot of works which really use her name, or which are directly about the idea of the character. Behind the Mask (2006), The Cabin in the Woods (2011), Final Girl (2015), and The Final Girls (2015) all revolve around positioning the main character to explicitly take on the role (even if not all of them use the term). Recent spins on the Slasher formula have played with the role, with Happy Death Day (2017) starting with a ‘mean girl’ caught in a Slasher time loop who must be all of the other victims before she can finally grow as a person to become the final girl, defeat the killer, and leave the loop, and Freaky (2020) doing a body swap with the final girl and the slasher-killer (the original title being “Freaky Friday the 13th), such that her experience of both inhabiting this strong, violent male body and observing the killer in her own is instructive, helping her, once more in her own skin, find the chutzpah to finish him off. Furthermore, “legacy sequels” such as Halloween (2018), Scream (2022), or Texas Chainsaw Massacre (2022) all circle back to their original final girl (though Sydney was never absent from her franchise and Laurie did this before in Halloween: H20), picking up with her many years later to see how the trauma she endured has affected her life, shaped her character, before thrusting her back onto the killing floor.

And this final girl renaissance hasn’t only been on screen. In 2017, Riley Sager published his thriller, Final Girls (which I’ve not yet read), and in 2021, two authors who I have previously written about here (Grady Hendrix and Stephen Graham Jones), both published Final Girl themed books: Hendrix’s The Final Girl Support Group and Graham Jones’s My Heart is a Chainsaw. Both of them are about characters who are not only final girls, but for whom the concept of the “Final Girl” is a significant, psychologically organizing principle, a mirror which they hold themselves up to and in which they find themselves lacking, but it’s a role they are thrust into nevertheless.

I’ve been wanting to write about both and since I’ve been on a final girl kick these last few weeks (see here and here, and also check out my guest spot on a podcast here, discussing the 2015 The Final Girls), I thought this was a good time to reread both novels and share some thoughts on them. I’ll endeavor to avoid spoilers in this discussion, so these might be shorter reviews, but I really recommend both books very highly.

The Final Girl Support Group (2021)

In his very entertaining, thrilling, and sometimes quite touching novel, Hendrix posits a world where the slasher killings of 80s films all actually happened (before then being made into films), and in which the young women who had survived these massacres later came together in group therapy, periodically meeting through the decades, to help one another continue to live, carrying the weight of what had happened to them, of what they’d had to do to survive. The main character, Lynnette Tarkington (based on Linnea Quigley’s character from Silent Night, Deadly Night who gets impaled, topless, on deer antlers), a core member of the group, has always felt distanced. She survived a massacre, but she wasn’t really a “final girl,” so much as a victim left for dead, who didn’t die. She never killed her killer, but she has been shaped by the nightmare that she lived through just as the “actual” final girls in the group have (each of whom is modeled on a classic final girl and generally has a name implying the actress who played her).

Thirty years later, she lives an isolated life, focused solely on survival: her apartment is a fortress, she has trained endlessly in self-defense, she is always armed, and she follows compulsive routines to ensure that no one can ever follow her home to her sanctuary. The only regular contact she has with others is with her plant and the group and so, when it seems that some person or group is targeting final girls, her carefully maintained world starts to collapse. At first, no one believes her as she starts to see the signs of a coordinated attack upon her ranks – all of the members of her group have their psychological quirks and she is no exception, coming off as an over-reacting survivalist-conspiracy theorist, and she is on her own to uncover what is happening and why, and to somehow stop it.

The book is just a treat – a quick, exciting read, full of twists and turns and endless references and Easter eggs to tickle a horror fan (just tracing the names and influences of the different characters is fun), but also, as is generally true for Hendrix, there is real emotional depth. Lynnette is an interesting character to follow – we don’t know (and neither, really, does she) how much her perceptions reflect reality and how much they are the paranoid fantasies of someone who lived through hell and has been forever scarred by the experience. The mystery is engaging, some sequences of threat or violence have an edge of horror, and there’s plenty of comic life to the proceedings, but at the end of the day, the heart of the book is the resilience of this woman who has suffered so much and keeps going, the friendships (however strained) between these women who have shared such terrors, and the way a role, a concept can haunt a person, shape a person, make demands on a person. All the women of the story carry a complex relationship with the idea of being “a final girl,” though we most experience Lynnette’s – and this exploration of the tensions between the ideal and reality, between being a free person with her own agency and being a figure in a set, self-perpetuating narrative, between the isolating impulse to survive and the responsibilities we take on for those we open ourselves to is what it is really about. And it is a rich theme to delve into.

Beyond that, Hendrix just makes fun books. Each chapter title is another horror sequel reference. Between each chapter, there is always an interstitial text – some document from the world of the characters – a letter, a newspaper clipping, text from a card left at a memorial for victims of a massacre – it all makes the novel an interesting space to inhabit. Sometimes these documents offer clues to what is actually happening, but often they simply give the world heightened specificity, offering intriguing glimpses into the lived-in space of the various characters. All in all, it is a compulsive, rewarding read, and I will continue to pick up whatever Hendrix puts out.

My Heart is a Chainsaw (2021)

Stephen Graham Jones offers a main character with a very different background, but one whose sense of self is just as tied up in the concept of the “Final Girl.” Jade is a Blackfeet high school senior in Proofrock, a small Idaho town on Indian Lake. Ostracized from her peers, and with a troubled home life, she is an intense, encyclopedic horror fan, particularly into Slashers, in which she finds the comfort of a familiar formula, the mythic resonance of ritual played out again and again, the vicarious power trip of the faceless killer, safe behind a mask, and the inspiration of the willful, transformed, victorious final girl. But for reasons which eventually become clear (which are at the heart of her troubled character), while she dreams of living out the fantasy of the slasher narrative, she never sees herself as a candidate for filling that beloved role.

And so, when she starts to see the signs of a slasher cycle beginning in her small lakeside town, she starts casting about to find one who could, and finds her in Letha Mondragon, a new girl who has joined her graduating class shortly before the end of the year. Letha’s just moved to town as her father is a member of a coterie of wealthy types moving in and developing the former National Park land across the lake, and in Jade’s eyes, she’s perfect: athletic, beautiful, serious, investigative, and most of all, pure – she is everything Jade feels she is not, and so she takes it upon herself to introduce Letha to the ways of the slasher film, hoping to prepare her to rise to the challenge when her time inevitably comes. Of course, everyone thinks she’s crazy.

Thus, Jade is generally on her own, and often in trouble with her parents, her school, her job, and the law as she investigates the series of strange deaths which are plaguing her town, all the while trying to convince Letha of the role she has to play, blind to how she is growing into it herself, incapable of seeing her own strength, her own resolve, convinced that because of who and what she is, because of what she has lived, she could not be more than an observer, an early victim, at best a “Randy” (who in Scream tells the others the ‘rules’ of surviving a horror film). She is a fan – not a hero.

Without going into any details, as this book is full of them, and there are loads of false starts and red herrings along the way before arriving at an incredibly brutal explosion of strange and vengeful violence, I don’t think it’s much of a spoiler to say that in climbing through the blood and gristle of this sometimes gory tale, Jade is thrust into a confrontation with her own story, her own past, her own identity, both changed by the process and becoming more truly herself.

This emotional arc weaves through a sometimes twisty narrative where we are never sure what is really happening. There are so many possible clues, and Jade’s many working theories and assumptions are often mistaken. All of this serves to deliver a fun mystery to unravel, both of who is killing all these people, in these very varied ways, and what Jade’s deal is under her tough horror-kid façade. It pays off both in excitement and mystery, deeply felt rage and vengeance, and ultimately a kind of promise of a life Jade hasn’t known. It’s a ride.

What a Coincidence

The two books share some core structural elements. Both feature a central character who everyone discounts, a Cassandra who alone sees a rising threat, both of whom compare themselves unfavorably with the ideal of the ‘Final Girl,’ and yet are sustained on the concept of the indomitable survivor who, as Graham Jones writes, “is finally turning around to fight, is insisting on her own life, is refusing to die, isn’t going to take even one more moment of abuse.” Both books name each chapter with a reference to some Slasher film. And both include additional texts between the chapters, My Heart is a Chainsaw presenting a series of extra-credit papers that Jade wrote for her very patient history teacher over the years in which she expounds on Slasher film history, tropes, themes, and analysis. On one level, these are often fun love letters to the genre, but Graham Jones also weaves through them significant insights into Jade’s character (one of these becomes a significant plot point when these collected texts are given to Letha, intended as a kind of textbook to prepare her for the coming storm).

What is it in the zeitgeist that led both of these authors, contemporaries in current horror fiction, to engage with these particular themes at exactly this time? Though the stories are quite different, the parallels in what both texts circle around are striking. In both cases, we deal not only with this particular horror film trope, but with what it means to survive a kind of trauma, and how a person can define themselves in terms of, or in opposition to that experience. And both do this in relation to this storytelling device – a character type who has come to particular prominence of late. Is it related to the #metoo moment, assaults on abortion rights in the US and around the world, a growing sense of the way women have continued to be targeted as victims even as society pats itself on the back for being more equitable? Or is it maybe not so gendered – is the ‘girlness’ of the final girl a red herring?

Could it be that we live in an era of constant existential threat? Climate change, pandemics, domestic terrorism, global conflicts, constant mass shootings, police violence and the subsequent civil unrest, intractable political divisions that make it feel like society is on the cusp of absolute collapse…do we feel so under assault that “the one who survives, the one who finds a way to fight back against impossible odds, the one who has suffered like no one else, but nevertheless persists, the one who refuses death” is just more appealing than ever before? I don’t know – we used to live in fear of a nuclear holocaust, hell – there was The Holocaust, and as I understand the statistics, as you go further back in time, humans were more and more likely to die due to violence than they are now. But somehow that feeling of constant threat has just grown. Maybe for that, the media is to blame – or the ugly echo chambers of social media – or maybe it’s just the cumulative fatiguing effect of living with stress.

But maybe it’s all just coincidental – a story and the character at its heart has just grown more popular – we are more aware of it, and thus, we grab hold of it as a useful metaphor – as we have always done, especially with horror.

Anyway, they’re both really good books. I liked them. You should read them.

10 Final Girls Who Don’t Get Enough Credit

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So lately, I’ve been digging into the trope of the Final Girl. One reason for this is that I recently guested on the great podcast, Random Number Generator Horror Podcast No. 9, and the film we discussed was the 2015 eighties-summer-camp-slasher set dramatic comedy, The Final Girls. It was a really fun discussion, and I invite you to give it a listen. As an avid listener of horror-podcasts for years, it was an absolute treat to be on a really good one and I thank Jeffrey and Cecil for the opportunity!

And inspired by the movie under discussion (which I really like, but won’t detail here – check out the podcast for that!), I wanted to throw together a list of ten great final girls. So I started checking out what was already out there, and a quick google search yields loads of lists of the “best Final Girls,” but I noticed that I was seeing the same names over and over on list after list, and for good reason. Ginny from Friday the 13th, Part 2 is great (maybe my favorite), with her empathy, resilience, and no-nonsense demeanor. Nancy from Nightmare on Elm Street is awesome (also maybe my favorite) with her book on booby traps and being so “into survival.” Ripley in Alien (a stretch to call it a slasher exactly, but she is certainly a final girl) is aspirationally tough and sensible (if they’d only listened to her and followed quarantine rules, it wouldn’t have even been a horror movie). And so many, many more.

But I felt I wouldn’t really be contributing much if I just listed famous movies that everyone, whether they watch horror or not, has heard of, if not seen. So I tried to dig a bit deeper to shine a light on final girls who don’t always get so much attention. I can’t guarantee that none of them feature on any other list (the internet is a big place), but these are at least somewhat deeper cuts – also, I can’t promise that all of their movies are exactly “good,” but each does have something to recommend it.

That said, I am no slasher expert. There are so many and I’ve but scratched the surface. Out of more than 200 that came out between 1978, when Halloween’s success kicked off the first cycle (between 1980-1982 alone, there were at least 72) until 1989 (because I have to choose an end-point eventually, and horror took a dip in the early 90s), I’ve seen maybe 30% – the most famous and then the fairly well known, with a small spattering of more obscure titles. So please accept this list with that caveat.

And now, without further ado, here is my list, in order of appearance, of great Final Girls who don’t get enough credit:

Courtney – Final Exam (1981) Cecile Bagdadi

Most of this film seems more like Animal House or Revenge of the Nerds, but with a killer on the loose (whose story we never learn). A bunch of frat guys are trying to ride out the year without doing any work by putting a lot of effort into elaborate pranks to help them cheat (one of which, featuring a fake mass shooting, is quite disturbing through contemporary eyes). In a world of rich, entitled brats who don’t take anything seriously, Courtney stands out as the only person actually studying for her “final exam.” She isn’t a prude (if anything, she’s trying to get a particular boy to notice her) but she has more consequential things on her mind. The boy is nice enough (though his obsession with mass shooters and serial killers seems like a red flag), and it’s a shame when he doesn’t make it as they’ve just had a sweet moment. It all builds to a solid chase where she acquits herself well, but in the final shot of the film she seems so traumatized by the experience. While this is a common image, it is still quite effective here. Courtney grounds the horror of these killings and her own survived ordeal in a way that the other victims in their frivolity could not.

Anne – Graduation Day (1981) Patch MacKenzie

Anne has a different vibe from the very beginning. She’s an active military member, coming home to honor her dead sister at what would have been her high school graduation, only to find everyone else on her late sister’s track team getting murdered. We first meet Anne in a truck where she’s hitched a ride and she capably and aggressively fends off the lecherous approaches of the driver, instantly endearing her to us. She starts as a tougher final girl than many, and that self-confidence is fun, but in the final reel, she still has to go through it, fighting to overcome this particular psycho. I think what prevents her from ranking higher on many lists is the fact that we lose her in the middle stretch of the film when she is one of countless red herrings (everyone in this town owns a grey sweat suit and black leather gloves – what we see the killer wearing). In one scene, she is even made out to seem crazy and threatening to a potential (and eventual) victim, distancing us from her even more. But by the end, when the killer is revealed, it is satisfying to return to this level-headed, tough-minded final girl to take him out. Plus, the film is fun and the rest of the cast is solid.

Pam – The Prowler (1981) Vicky Dawson

Pam is great. It seems like she’s studying journalism – at the top of the movie, she’s just published an article about the killing that happened 35 years ago which is why this college stopped having the annual graduation dance (isn’t that more of a high school thing? Anyway…). Thus, when she has to go back to her room to change and narrowly escapes the returned killer, who is dressed as a masked WWII soldier and carrying a pitchfork for some reason (in an exciting sequence that had me wondering if she was in fact going to survive to be the final girl), she can’t not investigate and see this through to the end. There’s a fantastic moment when her boyfriend, the local deputy left in charge for the weekend, tries to drop her off back at the dance so she can be safe. She is just not having it – the resolve with which she threatens him and then gets back in the car foreshadows the strength of character that will help her turn the killer’s own pitchfork on him before blowing his head clean off. Also, just in a connection to another great final girl, Pam finds herself hiding under a bed with a rat, just like Ginny in Friday the 13th Part 2, but at least this one didn’t pee (they were basically filmed at the same time though, so I think it’s a coincidence). In addition, while some elements really don’t make sense, this is one of the better slashers on this list – it’s tense, the killer’s costume looks cool and scary, some scenes are genuinely exciting, and the gore effects might be the best work that Tom Savini ever produced – really effectively grisly and horrifically realistic.

Constance – Just Before Dawn (1981) Deborah Benson

I’ve written at greater length about this backwoods slasher before. Constance stands out as both exemplifying and subverting the still developing tropes of the final girl. Filmed in the summer of 1980, she really offers a different spin on the role. At the beginning of the film, she seems like a typical final girl – reasonable, capable, the only person appropriately dressed for hiking a difficult trail. But she feels that she’s too mousy, inadequate compared with her friends who are bolder than her, braver. And so, as the film progresses and things get progressively more difficult, so does she, changing her physical appearance in the process. In an inversion of the trope, she becomes more outwardly feminine and sexual, donning shorter shorts, showing more flesh, putting on makeup, letting down her hair. And she is more sexually aggressive with her boyfriend. In a way, it’s like she’s putting on the mask of a different role, one you might expect to get killed much earlier in a film like this. However, wearing her mask, she is freed – she can be the wild, primal figure she needs to be to take down this hulking killer in what might be the most satisfying moment of a final girl killing a slasher on film. You may see many final girls rise in violence to take down the killer, but no one quite does what Constance does – just watch it – I don’t want to spoil the fun. It’s a perfect encapsulation of the “Final Girl’s” will to life, her stubborn, desperate determination not to be erased. And the film itself, while a bit slow in the middle, is a pretty enjoyable watch as well.

Sandy – Humongous (1982) Janet Julian

I can’t really say this is my favorite of the bunch, but Sandy rises to the occasion in the final reel. The film starts strong (though quite disturbingly) and then falls into a long stretch of poorly lit muddling along on an island where some kids have been stranded with a killer. For a while I was wondering who the final girl would be – as it seemed that the one unattached girl with glasses was the first to open a photo album and start piecing together the back story, but she snapped under the pressure of it all and Sandy, evidently the most stable of the bunch, finally figures things out.  When things kick into gear in the last 15-20 minutes, Sandy leads a great chase, seems to rip off (not sure when it was filmed, but it was released more than a year after Friday 2) Ginny’s idea of playing the killer’s mother, races to the boat house where she traps him with fire and blows him up before finally staking him. Still, having learned his sad story, she feels sympathy for this poor, burned, deformed creature (no action or words, but there’s something in her eyes). He may have killed all her friends, but she can still pity him. In this, she balances all of the investigativeness, proactivity, ability to violently do what needs doing, and heart of a classic final girl, even if her movie is…just alright.

Valerie, Courtney, & Trish – The Slumber Party Massacre (1982) Robin Stille, Jennifer Meyers, & Michelle Michaels

Is this the first “meta” slasher? I mean, no, but it is so self-aware – written as a parody, but filmed more or less straight, it subverts the tropes that by 1982 had already calcified, delivering in my opinion, a subversive, hilarious, effectively scary, feminist slasher classic. One twist here is that three girls survive by fighting back together: Trish, who had thrown the party to have one last hurrah with her childhood friends before adulthood pulls them apart (sadly none of those friends make it to the end), Valerie, a new girl who, for all of her beauty, brains, and athletic skill, is still an outsider, and Courtney, Valerie’s little sister, a boy-obsessed teen eager for more adult thrills than she is yet allowed. Each of them is granted personality and real feeling. Trish starts the film throwing away childhood toys and looking to the future, a future which, by the end of the day, she will have been thrust into too soon, too harshly. Valerie feels the most like a classic final girl, the responsible one, staying home to look after her sister instead of going to the party (until she has to). Courtney is a firecracker, funny, impulsive, insistent. And all of the other girls (or boys) who are murdered by the nameless killer with an improbably long bit on his cordless drill (what kind of battery does he have?) are also people whom we can like and root for. This is a fun movie, with sly, knowing shots taken at its genre and possibly its audience, but it has emotional weight. By the time the girls finally symbolically castrate and dispatch the killer, they are deeply traumatized by the horrific events – there’s been so much death, so many friends lost, so much horror. They’ve done what they had to do to live, but their lives won’t be the same after this. The degree to which they get to mourn, cry, be broken at the end makes this often funny, light slasher land harder than expected.

Joan – Silent Madness (1984) Belinda Montgomery

Joan is great, a breath of fresh air – something really different – and she’s surely the most highly credentialed final girl on the list. A doctor at a psychiatric hospital which has accidentally released a psycho killer because of a computer error, Joan is surrounded by men who just refuse to do their damn jobs, (other doctors, administrators, the sheriff, even her reporter love interest). Either no one believes her as she investigates this major screw up which is getting kids killed at the college where the psycho was long ago arrested for a massacre, or they are all just covering their butts, hoping that if no one talks about it, no one will notice the pile of dead sorority sisters. Either way, Joan has to take care of everything all on her own, both hunting after the killer, navigating bureaucracy, and avoiding the murderous orderlies from her hospital, hot on her trail to shut her up.  Along the way, she uncovers buried truths, tries (and generally fails) to protect the sorority girls in question, and finally takes out the ‘bad guy,’ only to then discover a deeper cover-up. She is a self-assured, mature adult, bringing the final girl’s typical responsibility, but with full confidence from the beginning. However, while she is a self-assured professional, she is not some kind of fighter, so exploring creepy basements where a killer lurks is still effectively terrifying for her. This was a really fun watch and she rises above the crowd.

Allison – Chopping Mall (1986) Kelli Maroney

This may not be a slasher, but Allison is a great final girl. And though the threat in this case consists of a set of killer robot security guards in a mall, the film follows the classic slasher pattern of a group of kids partying somewhere and getting picked off until only one girl remains (who knows if she’s ‘virginal,’ but she’s the only one who doesn’t have sex that night) – who overcomes adversity and triumphs. Played by Kelli Maroney, a mainstay of 80s B-movies, Allison balances being really sweet with also being a tough cookie who’s a crack shot with a firearm (apparently because her dad is a marine). The set-up is that a group of young people, some of whom work at a mall, stay after hours to party in the furniture store where one of them works (and try out the beds). There are two couples (one of which is married, which is a rarity in this kind of thing) and then Allison has been set up with a nice, dorky boy with whom she actually hits it off (the two of them bond while watching old horror movies while everyone else fools around). They are really cute together and it’s easy to root for them. The film can be silly and fun, and also exciting, but by the end, it of course comes down to Allison and the final killbot. By this point, she’s in full trap-setting, robot-exploding, badass, final girl mode and she even gets to blow up the last bot with an action star quip. Otherwise, the film is just a blast: a great cast (including Barbara Crampton and Dick Miller), a really cool score, and a bunch of killer robots.

Kit – April Fool’s Day (1986) Amy Steel

This is a really fun, different spin on the whodunit-slasher (though its twist may be the most famous thing about it – if you can go in cold, it’s worth it) – spring break happens to fall on April first and Muffy invites all her friends, about to graduate college and with no idea what to do next, to her island mansion for the week. Being April Fool’s, she’s got a lot of pranks in store, but soon the practical jokes become a series of murders and we’re off to the races. Everyone is so well played that it took me a while to peg who the final girl would be, but it should have been obvious that it would be the one played by Amy Steel. Her Kit is a solid, investigative final girl who solves the mystery of the killings (though still having one big surprise in store), and who also really cares about her friends, even if some of them are kinda jerks. There’s one moment when she could get away, but she has to go back cause she can’t leave Muffy behind (even though it’s been implied that Muffy might be the killer). Amy Steel brings a similarly grounded, clear headed, empathetic quality that she did to Friday part 2 – which helps the terror land, and it gets exciting when she’s put through the paces in the final act.

Stretch – The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2 (1986) Caroline Williams

This is also not a slasher, but it’s a sequel to one of the most influential proto-slashers, and Stretch undergoes a true final girl experience, just without much of a body count. (Also Clover referenced her when defining the role, so she surely counts). A tough talkin’ Texas rock DJ who is pulled into the Sawyer family’s shenanigans after fielding a call from some kids getting chainsawed on her radio show, Stretch is just cool. She really doesn’t fall into any kind of bookish, innocent little “virgin” role – rather, she is an adult woman who wears short shorts, navigates a world of pushy, aggressive men, brings the rock ‘n roll, and chooses to court danger in order to get the story, to do something important. As a result, she almost literally goes through hell, suffering in a similar fashion as Sally before her, experiencing debilitating terror, seeing a friend’s face skinned off before having it draped on her own and being made to dance in order to pacify a chainsaw wielding man-child before climbing out, grabbing a chainsaw of her own and eviscerating the man who’s chasing her, and subsequently dancing around crazily with her chainsaw in the air, mirroring Leatherface at the end of the first film. The fact that Stretch starts the film so together and tough means that her descent into violent, triumphant madness is all the more intense. It’s a weird movie – funnier than the first, but that comedy brings its own horror. Plus, it features Dennis Hopper, fresh out of rehab, screaming maniacally and running around with a chainsaw in each hand. What’s not to love?

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And so, there we have it, ten final girls that don’t always get mentioned.  As I said at the beginning, I’ve only seen about a third of what’s out there, so I’m sure there are many others worthy of inclusion who I am overlooking, but perhaps that’s fuel for a future list.

And for a fun discussion of a funny film which revolves around the concept of the final girl, check out the podcast here, or wherever you get your podcasts.