On "Teeth": An Anti-Feminist Tirade
This past weekend, goodbyebartleby, my old nemesis--the Myrna Minkoff to my Ignatius J. Reilly--persuaded me to watch "Teeth", a film about a girl who... well, about a girl who possesses a...well, let's just call it an "unusual biological adaptation".
All right. This is a film about vagina dentata. Let your imagination go from there, and you've got a pretty good idea about what inevitably happens.
For those who lack the prerequisite imagination, or simply those who wish to revel in all of the gory detail, a brief synopsis is as follows:
Dawn, a high school virgin, begins the story admonishing young children about the perils of casual sex. Sex, she says, is a gift, to be given exclusively to the mother or father of your children. Of course, it turns out to be not quite as easy as all that, as Dawn finds herself awash in the attention of a handsome boy.
At first, Dawn resists the flirtations of her would-be paramour, but inevitably succumbs to his persistence, as well as to the urgings of her own hormones. Their relationship grows increasingly more physical, until, at the very cusp of sexual intimacy, she balks and tries to push him away. Unfortunately, her boyfriend isn't so easily dissuaded, and attempts what is pretty much tantamount to rape.
To his horror, he finds out the hard way that Dawn has evolved a natural defense mechanism. The experience is nearly as traumatic for Dawn as it is for her lover, who finds himself suddenly bereft of a particular part of his anatomy.
At first, Dawn is horrified and confused by what has happened. As she tries to come to grips with the answers, she is thrust into a series of encounters with increasingly creepier guys, all of whom attempt to victimize Dawn and instead find themselves the victims as they are maimed and disfigured by her voracious genitalia.
Eventually, Dawn comes to embrace her unique physiology. Her metamorphosis is complete; no longer the confused and frightened virgin, she uses her sexuality as a weapon in the most literal sense. She has become a female vigilante, a modern day Medea, punishing men for their sexual aggression.
Although the mysterious and monstrous genitalia is never shown, its effects are very graphically demonstrated. Several times during the film a severed bloody penis is featured quite visibly, lying on the ground; one dismembered phallus is promptly devoured by a dog, in a scene that is as comical as it is horrific.
"Teeth" never even attempts to be subtle; every symbolic mechanism--from the ominous twin smokestacks of the nuclear power plant in the opening shot, to Dawn's mother's tragic illness, to her step-brother's ferocious Rottweiler--is blatant and clichéd. The plot is so predictable you can see it coming over the distant horizon.
And that, perhaps, is the film's only saving grace. It never attempts to deceive or trick the audience. You know pretty much what to expect from the title sequence, which features a series of single-celled organisms attacked and destroyed by suspiciously cigar-shaped parasites, until the last surviving cell turns the tables and devours the parasites instead.
Yes, my friends, that's as profound as "Teeth" gets. In the end, I really had no one to blame but myself, because I knew exactly what I was going to get going in.
Nevertheless, I still found myself with an uneasy, uncomfortable feeling as the credits rolled. Was it just empathy with the film's victims? Was it simply a matter of castration anxiety?
It took me awhile to realize that, in fact, I was actually offended on some level. I found the movie to be aesthetically offensive. Of course, it didn't really help things much to hear goodbyebartleby recount the events with something like manic glee.
Don't get me wrong. I know that the film is, by definition, Art; and Art is supposed to be provocative. After all, any strong opinion on anything is bound to offend someone, somewhere--that doesn't mean that it should be censored. Censorship is a slippery slope, and if you limit one individual's means of expression, you must do so for everybody, including yourself.
But my enjoyment of the movie was tempered by the plain and simple fact that I found something about it objectionable. I couldn't share in goodbyebartleby's praise of the film; in fact, I couldn't even discuss the subject without becoming emotionally subjective.
Why? I wondered. What did I find so distasteful? Obviously, the violence and gore I witnessed were artificial, manufactured; indeed, the credits even guarantee that "no men were harmed in the making of this film." The characters were imaginary; the situations absurd.
Thematically, it is easy to assume that I simply objected to the extreme violence, especially since it was all inflicted upon men. Let's be honest: "Teeth" is, essentially, feminist revenge fantasy. It doesn't matter that it was both written and directed by Mitchell Lichtenstein, a man. The concept of Vagina Dentata is not a new one. Even though its original conception was anything but feminist, in modern times it is used as a feminist ideal. If a woman possesses the ability to mutilate her sexual aggressor, then she is no longer the victim of sexual abuse. She is now in control; she has all the power over sex, and over her partner.
By itself, the concept sounds innocuous enough--or, at least, I would argue so. Historically, the balance of power in the battle of the sexes has been heavily tilted in favour of the man. We are physically stronger, more intimidating; it is much more difficult for a woman to rape a man against his will than it is for a man to rape a woman against hers.
But the film doesn't just stop there; it goes on to suggest that all men are creeps, rapists, and perverts. Every male character that Dawn comes into contact with inevitably tries to rape or molest her, with the sole exception of her step-father. Her boyfriend, who could represent every straight male teenager in America (if not the world), attempts to take advantage of her. Her gynocologist, who should be a trustworthy authority figure, turns out to be a sleezebag. Her best male friend seems, at first, to be supportive and compassionate; but alas, it turns out that he only ever thought of her as just a notch in his belt. Her step-brother, a monumental greaseball of epic proportions, has fantasized about fucking her since he was eight years old.
Taken as a statistical sample, the film seems to paint a very disturbing portrait of maledom in general. The only sympathetic male figure is Dawn's stepfather, who is--let's face it--an effeminate, emasculated character. He can't control his own son, and in fact is at the latter's mercy when he attempts to punish him for his bad behaviour.
"Hang on a second!" you might be thinking. "You're reading way too much into it! It's just a silly movie!"
That may very well be true, but even so, when taken in conjunction with the narrative style, "Teeth" tosses a cheap shot at the male identity. Billed by IMDB as "Comedy-slash-Horror" (more comedy, I suspect, than horror to those of you in the female audience), the film's sight gags are the horror movie equivalent of a man getting hit in the crotch by a football. An example of this is a scene where one of Dawn's victims is shown on the operating table, as the surgeons sew his penis back on. "It doesn't seem hardly worth it, does it?" glibly asks one of the doctors.
Once again, I may be reading into it too deeply, but it sure seems like a snarky shot at male sexuality. That is Everyman on the table, his very masculinity rendered moot.
Let's face it. It's an unavoidable truth that to insult a man's penis is to insult the man. This is due to both biological imperative and cultural conditioning. In Roman times, a common way to insult an enemy was to call into question his ability to produce offspring. If a man couldn't father children, he was an evolutionary dead end; he was worthless.
These days, since the advent of birth control, this has transmogrified into a man's ability to sexually satisfy a woman. Why is so much emphasis placed on penis size? Why do Cialis and Viagra sell so well? No man wants to be thought of as being undersized in the penis department. It has to do with our egos, with our pride. It may not be very enlightened, but it's just the way it is.
Ladies, if, at this point, you're still insisting that it is absurd to be offended by a work of fiction, then consider this:
The Hills Have Eyes is a movie about a tribe of mutants, genetically deformed by nuclear radation, who terrorize a family on vacation in the New Mexico desert. The mutants thrive on cruelty and sadism. In one scene, two of the mutants enter the recreational vehicle, where the family's youngest daughter has been left alone. The mutants then proceed to brutalize and rape her. At first, she attempts to fight them off, but one of them hits her in the face, rendering her stunned and helpless as he removes her pants and proceeds to penetrate her. She is shown, screaming and crying, her hands clawing desperately at the RV window--all to no avail. As her attacker reaches orgasm, he throws back his head and whoops in triumph, in what one can only assume is a tasteless attempt to provoke a cheap laugh.
If you can tell me that you honestly weren't offended by that, even a little bit, well, then, I salute you.
Maybe I'm just thin-skinned to this sort of thing. Perhaps I wouldn't take offense to "Teeth" if I were more secure in my sexual identity (and I'll leave that to you to interpret, although I'll freely admit that I'm relatively sexually inexperienced).
I think, though, that ultimately, the reason why I was offended was not so much the theme of violence against men, or the lack of sympathetic male characters; but that the concept of vagina dentata possesses profound and complex potential, and it was a shame to see it reduced to slapstick horror.
(Want to see what all the fuss is about? You can view it here, while it lasts.)
All right. This is a film about vagina dentata. Let your imagination go from there, and you've got a pretty good idea about what inevitably happens.
For those who lack the prerequisite imagination, or simply those who wish to revel in all of the gory detail, a brief synopsis is as follows:
Dawn, a high school virgin, begins the story admonishing young children about the perils of casual sex. Sex, she says, is a gift, to be given exclusively to the mother or father of your children. Of course, it turns out to be not quite as easy as all that, as Dawn finds herself awash in the attention of a handsome boy.
At first, Dawn resists the flirtations of her would-be paramour, but inevitably succumbs to his persistence, as well as to the urgings of her own hormones. Their relationship grows increasingly more physical, until, at the very cusp of sexual intimacy, she balks and tries to push him away. Unfortunately, her boyfriend isn't so easily dissuaded, and attempts what is pretty much tantamount to rape.
To his horror, he finds out the hard way that Dawn has evolved a natural defense mechanism. The experience is nearly as traumatic for Dawn as it is for her lover, who finds himself suddenly bereft of a particular part of his anatomy.
At first, Dawn is horrified and confused by what has happened. As she tries to come to grips with the answers, she is thrust into a series of encounters with increasingly creepier guys, all of whom attempt to victimize Dawn and instead find themselves the victims as they are maimed and disfigured by her voracious genitalia.
Eventually, Dawn comes to embrace her unique physiology. Her metamorphosis is complete; no longer the confused and frightened virgin, she uses her sexuality as a weapon in the most literal sense. She has become a female vigilante, a modern day Medea, punishing men for their sexual aggression.
Although the mysterious and monstrous genitalia is never shown, its effects are very graphically demonstrated. Several times during the film a severed bloody penis is featured quite visibly, lying on the ground; one dismembered phallus is promptly devoured by a dog, in a scene that is as comical as it is horrific.
"Teeth" never even attempts to be subtle; every symbolic mechanism--from the ominous twin smokestacks of the nuclear power plant in the opening shot, to Dawn's mother's tragic illness, to her step-brother's ferocious Rottweiler--is blatant and clichéd. The plot is so predictable you can see it coming over the distant horizon.
And that, perhaps, is the film's only saving grace. It never attempts to deceive or trick the audience. You know pretty much what to expect from the title sequence, which features a series of single-celled organisms attacked and destroyed by suspiciously cigar-shaped parasites, until the last surviving cell turns the tables and devours the parasites instead.
Yes, my friends, that's as profound as "Teeth" gets. In the end, I really had no one to blame but myself, because I knew exactly what I was going to get going in.
Nevertheless, I still found myself with an uneasy, uncomfortable feeling as the credits rolled. Was it just empathy with the film's victims? Was it simply a matter of castration anxiety?
It took me awhile to realize that, in fact, I was actually offended on some level. I found the movie to be aesthetically offensive. Of course, it didn't really help things much to hear goodbyebartleby recount the events with something like manic glee.
Don't get me wrong. I know that the film is, by definition, Art; and Art is supposed to be provocative. After all, any strong opinion on anything is bound to offend someone, somewhere--that doesn't mean that it should be censored. Censorship is a slippery slope, and if you limit one individual's means of expression, you must do so for everybody, including yourself.
But my enjoyment of the movie was tempered by the plain and simple fact that I found something about it objectionable. I couldn't share in goodbyebartleby's praise of the film; in fact, I couldn't even discuss the subject without becoming emotionally subjective.
Why? I wondered. What did I find so distasteful? Obviously, the violence and gore I witnessed were artificial, manufactured; indeed, the credits even guarantee that "no men were harmed in the making of this film." The characters were imaginary; the situations absurd.
Thematically, it is easy to assume that I simply objected to the extreme violence, especially since it was all inflicted upon men. Let's be honest: "Teeth" is, essentially, feminist revenge fantasy. It doesn't matter that it was both written and directed by Mitchell Lichtenstein, a man. The concept of Vagina Dentata is not a new one. Even though its original conception was anything but feminist, in modern times it is used as a feminist ideal. If a woman possesses the ability to mutilate her sexual aggressor, then she is no longer the victim of sexual abuse. She is now in control; she has all the power over sex, and over her partner.
By itself, the concept sounds innocuous enough--or, at least, I would argue so. Historically, the balance of power in the battle of the sexes has been heavily tilted in favour of the man. We are physically stronger, more intimidating; it is much more difficult for a woman to rape a man against his will than it is for a man to rape a woman against hers.
But the film doesn't just stop there; it goes on to suggest that all men are creeps, rapists, and perverts. Every male character that Dawn comes into contact with inevitably tries to rape or molest her, with the sole exception of her step-father. Her boyfriend, who could represent every straight male teenager in America (if not the world), attempts to take advantage of her. Her gynocologist, who should be a trustworthy authority figure, turns out to be a sleezebag. Her best male friend seems, at first, to be supportive and compassionate; but alas, it turns out that he only ever thought of her as just a notch in his belt. Her step-brother, a monumental greaseball of epic proportions, has fantasized about fucking her since he was eight years old.
Taken as a statistical sample, the film seems to paint a very disturbing portrait of maledom in general. The only sympathetic male figure is Dawn's stepfather, who is--let's face it--an effeminate, emasculated character. He can't control his own son, and in fact is at the latter's mercy when he attempts to punish him for his bad behaviour.
"Hang on a second!" you might be thinking. "You're reading way too much into it! It's just a silly movie!"
That may very well be true, but even so, when taken in conjunction with the narrative style, "Teeth" tosses a cheap shot at the male identity. Billed by IMDB as "Comedy-slash-Horror" (more comedy, I suspect, than horror to those of you in the female audience), the film's sight gags are the horror movie equivalent of a man getting hit in the crotch by a football. An example of this is a scene where one of Dawn's victims is shown on the operating table, as the surgeons sew his penis back on. "It doesn't seem hardly worth it, does it?" glibly asks one of the doctors.
Once again, I may be reading into it too deeply, but it sure seems like a snarky shot at male sexuality. That is Everyman on the table, his very masculinity rendered moot.
Let's face it. It's an unavoidable truth that to insult a man's penis is to insult the man. This is due to both biological imperative and cultural conditioning. In Roman times, a common way to insult an enemy was to call into question his ability to produce offspring. If a man couldn't father children, he was an evolutionary dead end; he was worthless.
These days, since the advent of birth control, this has transmogrified into a man's ability to sexually satisfy a woman. Why is so much emphasis placed on penis size? Why do Cialis and Viagra sell so well? No man wants to be thought of as being undersized in the penis department. It has to do with our egos, with our pride. It may not be very enlightened, but it's just the way it is.
Ladies, if, at this point, you're still insisting that it is absurd to be offended by a work of fiction, then consider this:
The Hills Have Eyes is a movie about a tribe of mutants, genetically deformed by nuclear radation, who terrorize a family on vacation in the New Mexico desert. The mutants thrive on cruelty and sadism. In one scene, two of the mutants enter the recreational vehicle, where the family's youngest daughter has been left alone. The mutants then proceed to brutalize and rape her. At first, she attempts to fight them off, but one of them hits her in the face, rendering her stunned and helpless as he removes her pants and proceeds to penetrate her. She is shown, screaming and crying, her hands clawing desperately at the RV window--all to no avail. As her attacker reaches orgasm, he throws back his head and whoops in triumph, in what one can only assume is a tasteless attempt to provoke a cheap laugh.
If you can tell me that you honestly weren't offended by that, even a little bit, well, then, I salute you.
Maybe I'm just thin-skinned to this sort of thing. Perhaps I wouldn't take offense to "Teeth" if I were more secure in my sexual identity (and I'll leave that to you to interpret, although I'll freely admit that I'm relatively sexually inexperienced).
I think, though, that ultimately, the reason why I was offended was not so much the theme of violence against men, or the lack of sympathetic male characters; but that the concept of vagina dentata possesses profound and complex potential, and it was a shame to see it reduced to slapstick horror.
(Want to see what all the fuss is about? You can view it here, while it lasts.)