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Bloody Women

Bloody Women is a horror film journal committed to platforming viewpoints on horror cinema, TV and culture by women and non-binary writers.

Big Vampire Energy: modernising the women of gothic horror in Crimson Peak

 
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By Lauren Miles

Note: this article contains spoilers for Crimson Peak

 

Gothic tales have returned to public consciousness, thanks in part to Ben Wheatley's adaptation of Daphne du Maurier's seminal novel, Rebecca. He may not have made innovative changes to the portrayal of women in gothic film, but Guillermo del Toro, whose original story and film, Crimson Peak (2015), depicts women who are far from conventional, does. Paying homage to characters from Classic Hollywood films including Alfred Hitchcock’s Rebecca (1940) and George Cukor’s Gaslight (1944), the women of Crimson Peak also defy traditional character types. From the characters to the costumes, it is clear that del Toro was inspired by gothic horror and classic melodrama, but he also updates the format for a modern audience, especially where female representation is concerned.

 

The film presents us with all the expected gothic iconography, from lavish gowns to a grand mansion. The story follows Edith Cushing (Mia Wasikowska), an aspiring writer of gothic stories, as she meets and marries the mysterious English nobleman, Thomas Sharpe (Tom Hiddleston). After moving from America to their estate, she discovers that Thomas and his sister Lucille (Jessica Chastain) have many secrets, and so do the ghosts that roam the manor. 

 

Of the two main female characters, Lucille is by far the most intriguing. Played exquisitely by Chastain, she encapsulates various gothic horror character types – including the vampire, the spiteful housekeeper, and a female version of the murderous husband – but has more depth and nuance than any one of them. She serves as the keeper of the keys at the mansion, constantly carrying them with her and warning Edith against entering the manor's cellar. The reference to Rebecca's Mrs Danvers could not be clearer and is further reflected in Lucille's disdain for Edith. Like the new Mrs de Winter, Edith enters the estate as the new wife of a widowed man, and Lucille immediately tries to undermine her.

 

Though the reference to Mrs Danvers is clear, Lucille's actions are far more assertive. Rather than subtly manipulating Edith with sly words, she takes decisive action to remove her from hers and Thomas' lives by slowly poisoning her. This, too, is typical of the gothic sensibility, but the one doing the poisoning is usually the woman's husband, as in The Two Mrs. Carrolls (1947). And this is where del Toro turns gothic conventions on their head, as the film pays homage to an iconic character (Humphrey Bogart as Geoffrey Carroll), while also giving Lucille more autonomy and allowing her to display the violent tendencies usually reserved for male characters. She is responsible for all the violent acts carried out in the house, and her brother Thomas is helpless to stop her. In this way, Crimson Peak flips the script of the classic gothic film by reversing the usual power dynamic between men and women. 

 

Lucille’s power and influence over Thomas is wielded by her consuming all his time and attention. They are rarely seen apart; their relationship is obviously co-dependent. There is something innately strange about their relationship and it has something to do with gothic sensibilities and blood. There are many references to blood in Crimson Peak; first and most obviously, it is titular, but it is also present in the film’s aesthetic - red clay that seeps out of the ground, alluding to the blood that has been spilt on the grounds of the manor. This imagery, combined with the film’s gothic horror influences, is evocative of vampires, another character type that Lucille fits. She might not be a conventional, blood-sucking vampire, but she saps the other characters of their strength. She has BVE - Big Vampire Energy - for both Thomas and Edith.

 

In Edith's case, this relates to the poison that Lucille slips into her tea, causing her declining health. Lucille is trying to remove her adversary but selects a slow, painful conduit, hinting at latent romantic feelings for Edith, who is yet to consummate her marriage. For Thomas, the effects of vampirism are emotional, caused by the co-dependency between them. Their reliance on each other prevents Thomas from stopping her committing violent acts and prevents him from feeling affection for anyone else. Lucille's influence over Thomas and her systematic weakening of Edith is another way that she is more powerful than traditional female characters in gothic films. When it comes to vampires, specifically, we often think of films depicting Dracula. The lead vampire is almost always a man and, if there are female vampires, they are subservient, present for aesthetic pleasure. While Lucille adheres to gothic character types such as the vampire, she is also free of the restrictions usually placed upon women in these roles. Her freedom is quite simply shown in her doing whatever she wants. She is not subservient to anyone, least of all Thomas, who follows herlead and, instead, she wields power over others, with the agency to fuel the narrative, enacting her murderous plans.

 

Lucille's power is at its peak when she kills Thomas and hunts Edith down. At this point, a romantic involvement between the siblings has been revealed, along with her secret of having murdered every woman Thomas married. She is a blood-lusting beast, fuelled purely by rage and jealousy at the connection Edith formed with her brother. She feels the desperate need to stop them, even though it means killing the only person she was able to love. 

 

But del Toro moves up a gear and the gothic tendencies of the film are later switched out for tropes of the slasher, with the slow poisoning of Edith abandoned for the efficiency of a meat cleaver. These sorts of violent confrontations are non-existent in classic era gothic film, most likely owing to the Hays Production Code, which banned filmmakers from making the audience sympathetic towards characters who broke the law. Though Lucille is guilty of murder, her pain and desperation at losing Thomas' affection make her a nuanced and sympathetic character, something previously unallowed. 

 

The confrontation between Edith and Lucille is also unusual, simply because it is between two women. Del Toro's tweaking of gothic conventions results in an altercation that could never have happened in the Classic Hollywood era because of the Hays Code, but also because protagonists of gothic films never saved themselves. In both Gaslight and The Two Mrs Carrolls, the heroine discovers the truth about her husband but is unable to escape alone. Both are rescued by a male friend. 

 

Crimson Peak plays on this history when Charlie Hunnam's Alan McMichael turns up at the manor, ready to take Edith away. He is quickly removed from the picture when Thomas stabs him, leaving Edith to find her own way out. In all other ways, Edith is a conventional gothic heroine: being poisoned by her in-laws and investigating the family's secrets. She stands out, though, because of this final confrontation, where she is forced to kill Lucille to escape. Both Lucille and Edith have more independence and autonomy than the women that came before them; Lucille is a murderous antagonist and Edith rescues herself from danger.

 

Both are, in many ways, drawn as conventional gothic characters, with traits that echo atmospheric classics. The most noticeable and important difference, however, is the level of agency both women have, to act for themselves, unaided by a male character. Because of this, Edith and Lucille are considerably more powerful and progressive than women in the films belonging to Classic Hollywood and, more recently, Hammer Horror releases (The Woman in Black, 2012, The Quiet Ones, 2014) and even in Ben Wheatley’s new Rebecca adaptation for Netflix (where Crimson Peak is now showing in the UK). Crimson Peak is a triumphant example of how classic genres can be adapted for a modern audience, with complex and capable female characters, without compromising the qualities that define them. 

 

Lauren Miles is a freelance film journalist who loves all things gothic, fantasy, and film noir. She is also a recent university graduate, Halloween enthusiast, and cat lady. Her writing can be found at outlets such as Digital Spy, Film Stories, and more. She tweets @Lauren_M1les, and blogs at The Reel Truth Reviews. 


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