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burn-with-the-house · 1 year

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Mahanon Tabris Meta Post

This is going to be a long one, boys. Read more under the cut. tw: brief discussion of SA

Gender and Gendered Violence

For Mahanon Tabris, the journey he undertakes in Dragon Age: Origins is one that is centered around his gender, and gendered violence. Despite the Andrastian faith being the prevailing religion across Ferelden (and Thedas as a whole), we’re still treated to the typical misogyny in-world as we can come to expect from any pseudo-medieval fantasy game released in 2009. Ranging from snide comments made about the capabilities of a fem Warden or what can be extrapolated as parallels from real-world allegory as headcanons (click here to read my headcanons about Ghilan’nain), the world of Thedas is not so different from our own in regards to subtle if enforced ideas about gender roles and norms.

Enter the City Elf origin. Regardless of whether you first played it with a masc or fem Tabris, it leaves a sick feeling in your stomach about the underbelly of nobility of Thedas and their treatment of their lessers–elves, servants, and, well, women.

Mahanon Tabris lived most of his life in Denerim performing as a gender-conforming woman because that is what was asked of him. Although his mother Adaia indulged him in many things; the art of weaponry, whispers of a life beyond the Alienage walls, and the gift of a new name for her son once he asked for it, the narrative demands that Adaia dies. The wife dies, the mother dies, the woman dies to further the story. That is the very first thing that Mahanon Tabris learns; the woman will die.

His father, Cyrion, asks him to put aside the notions of masculinity that his mother had humored. Not for a lack of love; in fact, it is an outpouring of Cyrion’s love, concern, and fear that drives him to make that request. Mahanon, who has learned that deviation from the norm equals death, acquiesced to the request. From there he continued to stifle everything that made him “Mahanon”--that which is now intrinsically tied to his mother, and by virtue, her death. (These themes relate to how Mahanon interacts with his Andrastian faith. I’ll discuss that in another post).

I decided not to start Mahanon’s story (Born Again in Blood) with the wedding day, and the horror that it was. Instead I started his story in the immediate wake of it; being led out of Denerim by Duncan, after he had silently witnessed his life trade hands three times. From his own, to Valendrian, to the Arl’s men, and then finally to Duncan and the Grey Wardens. Truthfully, it was hearing that Duncan had once wanted to recruit Adaia that fostered trust once they were far enough away from Denerim that he was willing to speak.

Duncan gave him that chance; let him announce his new name. On the way to Ostagar, Mahanon cut his hair. There is also an instance in which he speaks with the armorer and it appears this stranger recognizes his plight.

His lips twitched downward at the thought, but his chest bloomed with new breath. He could give any name that he wanted. He could weave any lie, any tale, any story to make it palatable on the tongue. If he was a Grey Warden now–at the least, a recruit–his life would never be the same. He remembered the name his mother gave him when his father wasn’t listening, her hands soft and warm on his cheeks. The name they shared in whispers together as she taught him how to wield a sword to defend himself. The same name Shianni muttered as he lifted her up off of the floor. “Mahanon,” he said. “My name is Mahanon Tabris.”

Fingers closed around the cold hilt and he brought it up to his neck without much of a second thought. He cut through the wet tresses just where they brushed against his collar; it would have been easier, he realized, were his hair dry, but he had already begun to cut it away now. He braced his feet in the mud and stood there, cutting, until he felt a weight fall free from his head and he could breathe freely. Left in his hands were the twenty years of his life. He would let the river take them, too.

“I think I have something that will fit you,” he said. “Put this on underneath. Those bandages don’t do shit beneath the plate.” Mahanon looked down to see something reminiscent of a corset in his hands, though the leather strands could be more tightly bound, and it did not go as far down the torso. Confused, he looked back up at Gareth.

The smith didn’t bluster as he collected pieces of a plate set. “My daughter went off to become one of them Templars. I still see her at the Chantry sometimes. But she has a similar issue. Things can’t get in the way; I get it.” (paraphrased).

These are three experiences on the way to Ostagar alone that Mahanon is allowed to express himself the way he would prefer. There is an acknowledgment from Duncan that everything in Denerim is dead and left behind, and so he gives Mahanon that space to let it go and embrace a new life, which he eagerly grabs onto. That being said, Mahanon has just walked away from the most horrifying instance of gendered violence that one can articulate within the Dragon Age series. Reeling from that trauma, it changes how he interacts with the world.

Behind his gleaming amber eyes, Mahanon’s mind went blank. He wasn’t sure where Kallian ended and he began anymore, but all he knew is that he was a liar again; a liar wearing a beaded wedding gown. It was green once, he remembered that. Then it was red. Red, red red, and dripping with the lifesblood of men who had tried to take his own. Her own. Took Shianni’s. Took Nelaros’s. So he took theirs. Everyone whose hands had touched and stolen and dirtied. All of them. Like dogs. “I killed an arl’s son for raping my friend,” Mahanon snapped, and he took a step forward.

Finding the first of the recruits, Daveth, was a simple but stupid affair. Mahanon had stumbled upon the man harassing one of the women in King Cailan’s army. It took Mahanon planting himself firmly between them and introducing himself to give the woman a chance to run off. Not that he blamed her. Daveth introduced himself as a thief from Denerim. Not that Mahanon couldn’t tell. The accent gave away where he was from. His attitude gave away the fact that he thought he was entitled to take what he wanted even if it didn’t belong to him.

Mahanon did not sleep soundly that night. In his tent, which he erected far from the others, he remained tense. Rest did not come for him, and he did not close his eyes. Instead he curled his body around his sheathed sword, his bleary gaze locked upon the flap of his tent. A camp full of strangers. Stronger than him, faster than him, deadlier with a blade. He would be a fool to think that he could rest soundly and safely when surrounded by them.

“Come on,” the man said, forcing a smile to his face. He clapped a hand on Mahanon’s shoulder. Alistair withdrew his touch when Mahanon flinched away from the wall and his hand, scowling. Alistair’s smile turned apologetic as the pale light of the sun began to rise.

“I am sorry,” he said to Mahanon. “I was told what occurred in Denerim. It should not have happened to your friend.” There was pity in Loghain’s gaze. Mahanon loathed pity. With that, he swept away into the tent, and Mahanon was left breathless. Reeling, he felt like the only eyes left to pull him apart were his own, as if he could step out of his own body and watched as he forgot how to breathe. He watched himself stand there as the world drowned out with the roar of blood in his ears. He didn’t need pity. Apologies. He needed them to understand. He had been the one to cradle Nelaros’s bloody corpse to his chest. He had been the one to carry Shianni out of the arl’s home as she sobbed silently into his torn sleeve.

Duncan found him later in the kennel with the ailing Mabari. It took him a while. The sun was up. He could only assume that he was tough to find, or maybe Duncan wanted to give him space enough to collect his composure. The dog had begun to perk up, the kennel master had told him when he had come by. Food and water had been partaken of, and so Mahanon had plopped down inside and let the dog rest her slobbery head on his lap. He wasn’t sure what brought him here of all places. Maybe it was the fact that the Mabari brought a rare feminine touch to a place where he had only been pitted against men who, unfortunately, were surpassed by dogs where tact was concerned.

“Do you know who removed them?” Mahanon asked. He put a hand out towards Alistair’s chest to deter him from saying anything else. Jory was quaking at the sight of the woman, but Daveth’s face had smoothed into a steely regard, and there was a dark glint in his eyes that sat ill with Mahanon. Like a knife that caught moonlight through a dirty window.

That’s a lot of examples, but I wanted to lend significant insight into how Mahanon views the world around him in the wake of his trauma. He may be a man, but he does not trust other men. He has spent too long and too wary to make the mistake of doing so, even if they do not treat him with the same regard as they would if he were still presenting as a woman. At the core of Mahanon’s masculinity, he carries with him his own violence that comes with existing as a woman–and the inherited gendered violence that he carries from his mother, and his grandmother, and so on and so forth all the way back. (Andraste ties into this as well. We will readdress this in the religious meta post).

Mahanon’s masculinity is centered around his femininity, and his outward masculine expression is another way to protect that part of him. Yes, he is trans, and has been a man from the very first breath, but he will not abandon that girlhood of his, he will not sell it out and lie abed with the men who tug and tear at women like his mother until there is nothing of them left.

Mahanon saw the Grey Wardens as such:

Death to his old life.

A chance to live his new life.

But the Joining was a baptism of blood, and inherently feminine. You must consume tainted blood, let it pass through you, to become Greater? It is baptism, it is birth, and it is life. It is everything that a mother does,and it is his mother who remains the straight arrow in his mind that guides him. Mahanon’s themes and the way he grapples with his own gender is the idea of death, life, and rebirth, and everything that he has to live with. He cannot any longer deny any part of himself.

He looked down at the chalice in his hands; blood, tainted. He looked up at the statue of Andraste that peered down upon them all. He thought of her when she died a martyr. He thought of his mother, lifesblood, the breath she gave for him at birth. He thought of himself, a child, blood-red and slick from between his thighs. He parted his lips and drank deeply.

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kalinara · 6 years

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So I have now made it to season 4 of the Walking Dead. I have many opinions. I like how the show doesn't glamorize Rick, and the other characters, becoming harder and colder. It's a necessity, and it's satisfying watching them be badass. But it's sad too that they've become so distrustful and wary. I was SO relieved when they took in the Woodbury group at the end of the season. It felt like a move in the right direction.

Though...dumb question. Why didn't they all go settle in the fortified town instead of the prison? (I hope they at least went and looted the library.)

I enjoyed Rick's foray into insanity a little too much, I think. I don't think it was all because of Lori. He was clearly fraying at the edges at the start of season 3 and it just got worse...a lot worse.

At the beginning of season 3, I was thinking "that man looks like a stiff breeze would knock him over. He clearly needs to go hide some place and cry for a while." Then it became very clear that no amount of time in a crying room was going to fix that.

Rick is surprisingly productive and group oriented, even when in the grips of mental illness. Clearing out a cell block, hallucinating helpful people. (...I am a little alarmed that season 4 Rick seems to have stolen his three questions from his hallucinations, but okay then.)

That said, I kind of think that there was a point where the others should have been willing to remove him from leadership. The man has literally broken with reality, Hershel. Please stop guilt tripping him. He is sick. Let him rest!

Also, I honestly expected the Ricktatorship to be more, I dunno, dictatorial? But it seemed like Rick only made one or two decisions total against the wishes of the group, and at least one of those were when he was seeing dead people. The rest of the time was basically leading by committee.

(It's actually a really interesting contrast with the Governor. The Governor wears the title of an elected official but is an autocrat. Rick claims to be a dictator, but mostly leads according to the group wishes.)

I'm increasingly bewildered at the fics and meta I see that characterize Rick as a "natural leader" though. Because he is clearly so much happier at the beginning of season 4. He doesn't even have that "Oops, here I am giving orders again, sorry" that most abdicated leaders have in this sort of story line. He’s like “Nope. I’ll help in a crisis but I won’t give orders, I AM WORKING ON MY CROPS DAMNIT.” He's a GOOD leader for the most part, (in as much as while he makes mistakes that have consequences, those mistakes are reasonable based on the immediate problem and the knowledge that they have at the time), but he's definitely not naturally inclined to it.

Which leads me to the logical conclusion that Rick Grimes is totally a submissive in the bedroom. That is a man who is begging someone, ANYONE, to take the burden of decision making away for a while.

But while he seems happier at the beginning of season 4, and Carl certainly seems healthier, I'm not sure Rick's coping mechanisms are any better. "No, going outside without my gun is completely reasonable." It's good to see Rick acting a little less like a feral cat, but sweetie, direct martyrdom isn't a good idea either.

In the end, I didn't hate Lori as much as I expected to. I actually thought MOST of her behavior made some sense. There were three big points against her though: 1) Her reaction when Shane wanted to leave in 2x01. Honey, just let him go. He's a horrible person. 2) Her reinforcement of gender roles within the camp. I hate Andrea, Lori, but she's right. Standing watch is more important than laundry. Also, you could actually get the boys to help. I mean, the men are the ones benefiting from the rigid enforcement of gender roles here, but I don't get the sense that it's on purpose. They probably don't even notice. I think if you pointed the inequity out to Rick, at least, he'd take steps to try to change it. 3) Her reaction to Shane's death. Because seriously?!

Now ANDREA was awful. While I loved season 2 in general, it was a bit painful in terms of the women. Maggie was great, but Carol and Beth were mostly non-entities, and Andrea and Lori were outright frustrating. The gender divide in terms of skill sets was annoying too. Season 3 was a vast improvement on that ground. We had Michonne. Maggie and Carol seemed to have taken an upgrade to their skills. And while Beth seemed to take a more traditionally feminine role in taking care of the baby, she did it in a way that didn't feel like a reinforcement of gender roles. She just did what suited her best. I'd like to think somewhere along the way the men figured out that they too can do laundry and everyone is much happier.

Andrea being annoying in season 3 was far less frustrating, because the female characters actually got to do things.

Though one part made me laugh. When Carol told Andrea what happened to Shane, she just kind of stammers "But Shane LOVED Rick." And while I actually agree with her, I was amused because I'm not sure when that would have come up in conversation.

I like to imagine that it came up during sex. "Do you think you could be a little more sanctimonious when we're doing this?" "Have you considered wearing button down shirts? You'd look really hot, especially from behind."

(And while I'm pretty sure Andrea meant a fraternal love, I remember that creepy fucking washcloth scene after Carl got shot, so *I* think there was a sexual component there too.)

The show spent a little too much time in Woodbury in my opinion. Michonne was great, but honestly, the Governor and Andrea were not compelling enough to warrant that much direct attention. Especially not when compared to what's going on back at the prison.

"Lori's dead! Carl's becoming a child soldier! Rick's disassociating and hallucinating! Maggie and Glenn are traumatized! Daryl just LEFT! WHY ARE WE HERE AND NOT THERE!"

Tyreese and Sasha are so great. It's lovely seeing Michael Burnham in a different kind of role. It was a little uncomfortable though how the show seemed to have a trend of killing off one black guy just as they introduced another. T-Dog - Oscar - Tyreese. I was happy to see Season 4 finally realize that yes, you can have more than one black guy on the show at once. I hope they don't fuck that up.

They're probably going to fuck that up.

I have mixed feelings about the Maggie storyline in season 3. I'm not a huge fan of sexual violence storylines in general. But I will give the show credit for realizing that they can hit all of the important beats of a sexual assault storyline without including a rape. I feel like too many shows don't realize that. I wasn't a big fan of Glenn having the bulk of the focus in the aftermath though. He’d been through a terrible experience too, but I wanted more about HER.

I like Daryl a lot more now than I did at the start. But I still don't get why he's the fandom favorite. I still think that a good three-quarters of Daryl's fandom characterization is stolen from either Glenn or Rick. Which is a shame because ACTUAL Daryl is a lot of fun. I wish I got to see him more in fanwork. But I think I've come to terms with the fact that I will never see eye-to-eye with a vast majority of the fandom.

(Also, please tell me Beth-Daryl won't be a thing in the show. I like their dynamic AS FRIENDS, but she's SEVENTEEN. He is old enough to be her FATHER. And while age differences don’t have to be bad, she is literally still a child!)

The Prison is actually looking quite comfortable now. Plague aside. I can't wait to see the show ruin it. :-)

#walking dead #season 3 reactions #rick grimes is a feral cat #I will fight you on this

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collectedstories · 4 years

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Wanda who did not want to marry the German

One of the most popular Polish legends is that of Wanda, the princess of Kraków (Cracow), alongside the legend of the Wawel dragon. In the story, we learn of her heroism and sacrifice as well as her patriotism. These themes have been especially relevant through the turbulent Polish history, with different themes extracted, or added, to suit the story teller's particular views and morality.

It is especially memorable as the story has direct geographical links to one of the most romanticised places in the country - Kraków, the Vistula river, and the Wanda Mound.

As with many legends and myths, there are various versions of the same story, however, the most common version differs greatly from the first found written evidence of the legend. Firstly, let's explore the popular narrative, which is still taught to children in Poland, as well as to tourists visiting Kraków.

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For many years, Kraków was ruled by the beloved king Krak. He was a wise and just ruler, hence after his death, there was a period of deep mourning. His subjects were anxious about their future as the king did not leave behind a male heir. He did leave a daughter - Wanda, and it was she who would take the throne after her father.

Everyone feared that the young princess would not handle ruling the kingdom. However, it quickly became clear that Wanda inherited her father's best qualities - she was wise, fair, and a good ruler, by which means she quickly won over the hearts of her subjects. The news of her beauty rapidly spread across the world.

The news also spread to Germany, where prince Rydygier was the ruler. The Polish princess fascinated him so much, that he decided to marry her. He sent his envoys to Kraków, who were to ask Wanda for her hand in his name.

"If she does not want to accept my generous gifts and become my wife, force her hand." he told his envoys just before they set off for their voyage.

The journey was long and hard, however, when the Germans laid their eyes on Kraków, they could not grasp how such a wonderful city was hidden in such a wild country. And when they saw the princess the next day they fell into even deeper awe. "My lady, we come in the name of prince Rydygier, who fell in love with you upon hearing of your beauty and wisdom." said the oldest of the envoys. "The prince sends his generous gifts and asks for your hand in marriage."

Wanda looked at the valuables hiding in the chests brought by the envoys and said:

"Thank your lord and tell him that I cannot accept his gifts and become his wife. My place is here, with my people and my country. I will not leave it to live in a foreign land."

Hearing these words, the Germans became angry."You are audacious, my lady." said one of the convoys. "If you do not agree willingly, your land will flow with blood! Prince Rydygier always gets what he wants, so think carefully!"

"The might of the sword is not the biggest power, there are others, much stronger" responded Wanda and left the chamber with her head held high.

Scared of the omen of the raid, the city's nobles tried to convince Wanda to marry the prince. However, the proud princess firmly stated that the will not marry the German and will not leave her country. Sitting in her chamber at night, she found a way to save her people from war. She opened the window wide and for a moment looked out at her beloved Kraków which was plunged in deep sleep.

She then snuck out of the castle and ran straight to the Vistula river. She stood on the steep edge, closed her eyes and jumped into the dark, choppy water.

In the morning the river threw the princess' body out onto the shore. The subjects, moved by her sacrifice, fell into deep mourning. The German envoys left Kraków silently, and after their return to Germany told their prince of Wanda's actions. Rydygier instantly regretted his stubbornness and threats and understood that you cannot buy love, nor win it through force.

Wanda's subjects decided to commemorate her heroic deed and built a mound near Kraków, which they named after her.

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The first time we hear the story of Wanda in history is in 1207 in the Polish Chronicle (Historia Polonica or Chronica seu originale regum et principum Poloniae) which was written in Latin by Wincenty Kadłubek. It is believed that the chronicle was commissioned by Casimir II.

Although the book is thought to be one of the main sources of Polish history up to the twelfth century, the author took on some creative freedom, intertwining the pages with myths and anachronistic events.

One of these is the story of "Wanda who did not want the German" (or "Wanda who did not want to marry the German"). In the chronicle we learn that king Krak was the founder of the city of Kraków, which was named after him:

From the name Grakch, came the place Gracchovia, so that the memory of Grakch may live on.

In the first known version of the legend of Wanda the events unfold in a very different way. Most notably it is not the princess who kills herself, but the German prince.

Such big was the love of the deceased ruler which reached the senate, the powerful, and the people, that the only person trusted with the land was his daughter Wanda.

Interestingly, the way Wanda's beauty is described in the original version differs greatly from the modern story we know. Wanda's grace is described as superhuman, yet her looks are not discussed.

She surpassed everyone in both her beautiful character and her grace and charm so much, that you'd think nature was not just generous but wasteful in her gifts.

Her physical beauty seems to be a modern attribution based on more modern ideas of femininity. In the original version, Wanda was greatly admired for her character, wisdom and an almost ethereal presence.

Even the most prudent were in awe of her counsel, and the cruelest of enemies softened once they laid their eyes on her.

The modern shift in focus towards physical beauty seems to be directly linked with the retelling of the story. To our modern sensibilities, we have to justify the German prince's advances and offers of marriage by ascribing physical beauty to the princess. Wanda being physically beautiful also appeals to our 21st-century morals and what we assume from princesses stories (Disneyfied as they are) and of the 'doomed love affairs' we have come to expect.

However, in the original version which emphasises her wisdom and gentleness, the Alemann tyrant's motivations vary drastically.

Since the king had no male heir, the German prince saw an opportunity to claim the 'free throne', not recognising queen Wanda as a valid monarch. He sought to achieve this through force and destruction, i.e. invasion.

Yet, once his army arrived in Krakow and stood in front of the queen,

it was as if they were dazzled by rays of sunshine;

everyone suddenly abandoned the fight, rejecting their hostile sentiments,

as if hearing an order from the heavens.

They stated that they are not afraid of the human,

but that they honour the superhuman majesty in the person.

Their king who was either touched by the anguish of love or outrage, or both, followed the example of his dignitaries and gave

an offering to the Gods of the underground, so that you and your successors may age under the womanly rule.

He then killed himself in sacrifice by stabbing a sword through his body.

Wanda does not wish to marry and remains a virgin throughout her life, which we can assume to be long.

Kadlubek did not mention the Wanda Mound that was supposedly built in her honour, but does link the name Wanda to the Vistula river (or Wandalus river) as that is said to be the "centre of her kingdom".

This change of events changes the entire narrative of the story. Where in the modern version we think of Wanda killing herself to escape the prince's force to save her people, we see her as a martyr. We also hear of the prince's regret upon hearing of Wanda's suicide.

The act of the princess jumping off the bridge, appeared later in the anonymous Kronika Wielkopolska where the story was extended and dramatised to include Wanda "offering herself to the waves". This is also the first time the German prince is given the name of Rytyger, Rytygier, or Rydygier (previously nameless).

While in both versions the narrative revolves around the fight against power and reason, in the original version the prince succumbs to Wanda's charm rather than the might of the sword.

In some versions at the beginning of the story, though young Wanda is already a window and has a child, originally she was written as leaving the world without a successor, due to her aversion (or lack of want) to marriage.

In other versions, her suicide was motivated by love. Johannes Micraelius (16th - 17th-century German theologist) stated that Wanda drowned herself, not to save her people, but due to the sorrow she felt following his death, whom she began to love.

Throughout history, both the narrative and the moral essence of the legend have changed alongside our ideals and society's morality. The usage of the story and its main themes have been used throughout history to support one's agenda and the varying versions can be seen as reflections of that era's society, moral values, and politics.

The first rendition reflects Polish society's notion of ideal sovereignty at the time in which wise leadership comes from the people and radiates onto its neighbours with goodness, fairness, and majesty.

The conflict centres around Wanda's aura as well as the power of decorum and reason in opposition to force and violence. "Wanda forced the invaders away, not with weapons, but through her transhuman majesty (transhumana maiestas)" (REF).

In the 16th century, her sacrifice and martyrdom were mentioned by Latin poet Klemens Janicki, and political commentator and poet Łukasz Górnicki. Similarly, the 19th century sees Wanda as a heroine who fights for her honour against foreign intruders, who, above all, loved national dignity and patriotic duty.

The narratives of nationalities and Polish-German hostility also came later. The story of Wanda is taught to children to this day as a fairytale. However, despite this distancing of the legend and history, the morals and nationalistic themes continue to affect generations of Poles. This narrative of otherness is one that continues to this day. Particularly throughout the 20th-century, and introduction of Poland into the European Union, nationalism, and ongoing unease with foreignness as a way of invading the country's culture and way of life.

Feminist theme

Often omitted from analysis in the legend of Wanda if the feminist angle.

Although it could be argued that Wanda displays power through sacrificing herself in order to escape her suitor's advances, in the original version she is ascribed much more agency.

She is seen as kind, graceful, kind, and wise - not only by her subjects but also by her enemies.

Femininity (kindness, gentleness, charm) here is not seen as a weakness, rather as a strength, and even proposed as superior to masculinity (i.e. force, strength), at least in the sense we understand it now.

Although most analyses link these characteristics to the theme of sovereignty and leadership of the times, there is clearly an interesting theme of female power. The integral dilemma is centred around - on the one hand, the power of force through fear, and on the other, of wisdom, reason, and dignity. Not only is the conflict between a man and a woman, but is also presented in the notions of masculinity (immorality) and femininity (decorum).

In the end, the prince not only accepts the female heir as the rightful ruler, but urges the subjects to “age under the womanly rule” (i.e. under Wanda’s reign.

The feminine is powerful and superior. Wanda is indeed ascribed a transhuman presence, which perhaps elevates her to an almost godlike status. Interestingly, her refusal to marry (in either version) is merely a caveat, whereas it is something particularly unusual in and worth noting.

Most of my research about the history of the legend was written by men, and in none of the texts did I find mention of the femininity and power, or how Wanda's agency is displayed in the story or discussed throughout time. Feminist interpretation and analysis of the legend would make for an interesting read, however, it would require a lot more research and knowledge, that I do not possess, but would love to read!

#polish

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mastcomm · 4 years

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When Moms Attack – The New York Times

This article contains spoilers for “The Lodge.”

Poisoning, verbal abuse, neglect, decapitation by piano wire: These are just a few of the sins committed by mothers in horror movies. Whether harming their children or raising monsters of their own, these women eschew maternal expectation so thoroughly as to harm humanity. The anti-mothering in movies like “Psycho,” “Carrie,” “Antichrist” and “Hereditary” is so blatant it borders on sacrilege — no accident, as each of these movies deals in zealotry as well as maternal abuse.

“The Lodge” (now in theaters), from the “Goodnight Mommy” directors Veronika Franz and Severin Fiala, and “Swallow” (March 6), from Carlo Mirabella-Davis, present more complex takes on spurned motherhood. In both films, the central mother figures are unprepared for their new roles — what’s more, in a disturbing blow to the patriarchal nuclear family, these women are ambivalent about motherhood itself. But as the films’ many terrors unfold, it seems they were right to be reluctant.

“The Lodge” centers on Grace (Riley Keough) and her soon-to-be stepchildren Mia (Lia McHugh) and Aiden (Jaeden Martell). The children are scarred by their mother’s recent suicide, partially driven by the revelation that her husband intends to marry his mistress, Grace. At the same time, Grace is recovering from her childhood in a Waco-meets-Heaven’s Gate death cult.

Young and awkward, Grace does her best to win over her fiancé’s children. But Mia and Aiden, determined not to let this woman replace their mother, set out to exploit Grace’s trauma when the three are forced together for Christmas in their family vacation home. The results are gut-wrenching, as an addled Grace turns on her juvenile charges. Although one woman gets the most screen time, “The Lodge” is really about three mother figures: the children’s dead mom, the Virgin Mary (via a foreboding portrait in the dining room) and Grace. A martyr, a saint and — at least in the children’s eyes — a harlot.

So go three popular sexist tropes, with mothers — stereotypically sexless figures — usually falling into martyrdom or sainthood. In horror movies, where social comforts are upended for maximum disturbance, this idealism curdles into (often literal) demonization. In the Lars von Trier movie “Antichrist,” the mother (Charlotte Gainsbourg) does not prevent her child’s fatal fall, portending her psychotic attempts to kill her husband in a forest called Eden. Ellen, the dead matriarch and closet occultist of Ari Aster’s “Hereditary,” invites a malevolent spirit to puppeteer her daughter and granddaughter, thus leading to the end of her entire family. Then there’s Margaret White, the mother of Carrie, and Norma Bates, the mother of Norman, two obsessive, sexually obsessed Christian parents who smother their children to a fault. As Sady Doyle writes in her book “Dead Blondes and Bad Mothers,” “At the heart of horror is a bad mother; the familiar and terrible vision of a woman corrupting the world, unleashing her own flaws upon it through her monstrous children.”

“The Lodge” finds Grace struggling against a mother and father from her own past, in the form of the Virgin Mary and the priest who led her former cult (played, quite unsettlingly, by Riley Keough’s real-life father, Danny). But unlike other horror mothers, Grace’s upbringing does not make her fundamentally violent, nor does she instigate the violence between herself and the children. Instead, Aiden and Mia put Grace through grueling emotional and physical torture, hiding her food, belongings and psychiatric medication and playing tapes of her old priest until they eventually trigger her cult programming.

There is no unending maternal love to save these three, as in horror films like “Bird Box” or “The Conjuring.” Instead, “The Lodge” implies what other horror films are usually too afraid to say: Motherhood, with all its sacrifice and crushing expectation, might not be worth it for everyone.

That message is likely familiar to fans of “Rosemary’s Baby,” though the film’s protagonist eventually accepts the malevolent force that invades her home (and uterus). Recent takes on the reluctant or terrified mother include “The Babadook,” Jennifer Kent’s debut feature about a mother troubled both by her misbehaving son and a demonic force, “Prevenge,” Alice Lowe’s slasher about a pregnant woman whose fetus compels her to kill, and “Swallow,” about Hunter Conrad (Haley Bennett), a dutiful housewife who, once she learns she is pregnant, begins compulsively swallowing dangerous inanimate objects.

Hunter appears to have a charmed life. Wide-eyed and bubbly, she spends her days homemaking and playing games on her cellphone. She was a retail worker who bagged a rich man. Bearing his child is just another privilege, like en suite bathrooms or the latest iPhone. Her pregnancy gifts her life with purpose. Still, she swallows a thumbtack well before her second trimester.

Determined to produce an heir, her domineering in-laws shuttle her off to therapy to uproot the compulsion. There, placidly smiling, she reveals a family trauma that disassembles any preconceived notions about the film’s relationship to gender, motherhood or even Hunter herself. She’s no twit, and her destructive behavior — inspired by that of Mirabella-Davis’s own grandmother, who was lobotomized for a hand-washing compulsion — becomes a savvy and tragic bid to retain her selfhood. What little independence she has as a wife can be distilled into the moments she steals to swallow objects, her private world as small as the tray on which she places a marble, an earring, a battery.

“The Lodge” and “Swallow” are so effectively disturbing because there are few Freudian terrors more primal than that of the mother figure who turns on her children, or the woman who violently rejects the very idea of maternity.

Grace and Hunter are not demons but martyrs, sacrificed to the feminine ideal of motherhood despite their independent desires. The disobedient mother is a horror trope because, as an idealized figure, she has so far to fall, and so many means by which to do so. In comedies like “Bad Moms,” unruly mothers use cursing and alcohol. In chillers like “The Lodge” and “Swallow,” they guzzle safety pins and play Russian roulette.

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mastcomm · 4 years

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When Moms Attack – The New York Times

This article contains spoilers for “The Lodge.”

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