There is a science fiction novel called Dreamsnake, by Vonda
McIntyre. It tells the tale of a healer and her snakes in a post-apocalyptic
world where these are the only doctors available. One of her
snakes dies, and she goes off in search of a new one. Her travels
take her to three different communities. The second community is
comprised of only three people; a woman and her two lovers. One
of the three is dying; it's very sad. The healer does what she
can and goes onto the next community.
So you read the book, and you talk about it to a friend, who read
it too. And you're going through all your favorite parts together,
and you say: "I really liked the second woman, Meredith.
Very tough, very tragic."
Your friend says, blankly, "Who?"
You say, confused, "Meredith--the woman of that trio, lived
in the radioactive wastelands?"
Your friend says, "Get out. That was a guy, not a woman!"
Laughs. "Idiot."
"Bullshit!" you reply, utterly amazed. "She's a
she!"
Ganders are raised, an argument starts, you both rush to find the
nearest copy of the book to prove the gender of Meredith. Where
does (s)he first appear, where it says......and you keep looking.
And looking. And looking.
And you realize that Vonda has written a character without any
gender reference at all. There is not a single pronoun reference
to Meredith. Not a single reference to give you a sense of gender.
You pick her gender yourself (see? I still know that Meredith is
a she, 20 years later) based on whatever it is that causes you to
assign gender--behavior, assumption that all characters are
straight, all people named Meredith are female....whatever. It's
all in your head. Vonda (who I've met) swears she didn't have one
gender or the other in mind. I don't believe her.
So why have I brought this up? Apart from the fact that I like
the story?
Because without all the hype, I could imagine the following
conversation with a friend.
"Hey, I saw this *great* movie last night. It was about
these three kids that got lost in the woods and the mindfucks
that can happen to you when you're cold, hungry, tired, and
scared shitless. They were out in the middle of nowhere filming a
documentary about a witch, and became convinced that there were
people following them. They were walking in circles part of the
time, coming across the same stones, freaking out, weirding
themselves out--then other times, they convinced themselves they'd
come to the same point and they hadn't. Anyway, it was sad but *really*
fascinating...."
At some point in that recitation, the friend, having just seen
the movie, breaks in and says, "What the fuck--are you
KIDDING ME?"
And thus the games begin.
I could leave it there, but I'll throw in some other stuff:
I can tell you that I didn't go into the movie with that
preconception. I did think it possible that I wouldn't be scared,
if it didn't activate my own fear triggers. But I never expected
to think it was great, but totally miss the so-called
supernatural angle. ("So-called". See? I can't believe
they didn't have this in mind all along. And Meredith is a WOMAN,
dammit.)
I would let Spawn see this movie in a heartbeat, after I told him
that it was about the weird shit that can happen to you when you
get lost.
The acting was brilliant, genuine, and many of the lines were
surprisingly funny. (The "TV illiterate" crack was my
favorite, and I intend to use it often.) I didn't even notice the
motion of the cameras.
The movie fascinated me as a psychological portrait of people
under stress. I found the gender dynamics interesting. Both the
guys were cheerful non-Alpha males (whatever the hell they are
called), and rarely asserted themselves. Heather was the head dog
and did her damnedest to act like one--but she didn't read the
whole manual. It is fascinating to see her chattering away and
know that it is nerves, even though it sounds like bossiness to
most people. The moment when she confesses to the camera recorder
(while the guys are away) that she's the leader and she's lost
just saddened and amused me simultaneously. It was just so....female.
Also, the three of them were amazingly nice.
If anyone is wondering how I missed the point of the stones, and
the whatever was in that shirt, and the stuff hanging from the
trees, and the yelling, and the ending....shrug. Most events
seemed utterly explainable without reference to the supernatural.
But in any event--why jump to the supernatural as the first
explanation?
My brother dropped acid occasionally. "There are times when
the lamp will start talking to you," he says, "and the
trick is to not freak and say, 'Shit! The lamp is talking to me!'
but rather 'Wow, I'm so fucked up I think the lamp is talking to
me."
My take on the movie is that these kids forgot to account for the
possibility that the lamp might not actually be talking.
And finally, for those of you who think that I'm just insensitive
to nuance or don't scare easily:
When I was younger, I was always terrified at being in a house
alone--it was such a strain, worrying if the psycho serial killer
to show up. So I locked the door to my bedroom. This worked
wonderfully, since I knew that I would be able to hear the serial
killer trying to unlock the door and slip out the window or call
the cops or hide under the bed and hope he wouldn't find me.
Once Spawn was born, I couldn't do this anymore. After I got
divorced, I had trouble sleeping for months.
Friends used to ask why I wouldn't lock the door, and I would
point out that it was wrong to tell the serial killer to spare me
and take my son. Friends would expostulate--there *is* no serial
killer! It was just a head game, so what difference did it make
if I locked the door? I thought this was just nuts. If I *knew*
there was no serial killer, I wouldn't need to lock the door in
the first place!
IOW, I have many fears and they rule me pretty thoroughly. So I
can't figure out why this remarkable movie didn't scare the shit
out of me.
I recommend it wholeheartedly.
Two things:
First--I apologize for the "review by analogy" approach.
But I've never found it enough for someone to say, "It didn't
scare me" or "jesus, it scared me"--I need to know
*why*. So I turn about and do the same thing.
Second--It has just occurred to me that my psyche might have
decided it didn't need the stress and cooked up this
interpretation to save me several months of terror.
Hmmmm.
Well.
Psyche--I owe ya.
Open Discussion of Blair Witch
