I’ve always had an idiosyncratic love of horror films, but the more attuned I’ve become to the sexualization of women in entertainment, the harder it has become to enjoy them. The genre isn’t known for its stellar portrayal of its leading ladies, and, for me, the thrill of watching horror is lost when I spend the entire movie wondering why all the female characters need to be dressed in sheer wife beaters and panties during their death scenes.
So I was pleasantly surprised that Evil Dead — a remake of the 1981 horror camp classic and one of the most joyfully gory horror films in recent years – somehow managed to depict a strong female character without turning her into fodder for sexualized torture. The film, which dominated the box office last weekend, is most certainly not an example of feminist film-making par excellence, but it can’t be dismissed as just another misogynistic genre film either.
Evil Dead’s premise is as basic as they come: pretty people come to a cabin in the woods, read from a book bound in human skin (like you do), and demon-fueled mayhem ensues. But it made me feel warmer and fuzzier than usual about the portrayal of its female characters for a couple reasons: