5 of Our Favorite Female Protagonists in Horror
We’re halfway through Women in Horror Month! In celebration of the month, we compiled a love letter list covering five of our favorite women protagonists in horror. While the female protagonist has taken many forms over the years, from final girls to scream queens, the following characters and their actresses have inspired or empowered us in one way or another.
Destiny
I haven’t been able to shake the somewhat recent performance by Florence Pugh as Dani in Ari Aster’s Midsommar (2019). Introduced as a relatively normal girl with boyfriend issues, Dani is very quickly, completely emotionally wrecked as she undergoes a shocking family trauma in just the first few minutes of the film. Depressed and hollowed out by the disturbing event, Dani clings onto her emotionally distant boyfriend, Christian, tagging along as he and a group of friends travel to Sweden to visit country native Pelle’s ancestral commune. There, everyone is introduced to surprisingly unusual and otherwise horrific celebrations and traditions, and all the while Dani begins to face the fact that her relationship with Christian is dwindling. As the viewer, we are inclined to feel the weight and pain Dani must be going through and because of that, are just as quick to celebrate her gruesome validations. In a variety of reviews, the film has been referred to as a “break-up” story, littered with horror elements and disguised in an otherwise bright and flowery setting. While I found this to be true, I never expected Dani’s journey to be so complex and empowering. I’m not saying we should burn all our exes in bear suits, but it looked pretty satisfying.
Carrie, 1976
Along the lines of burning one’s boyfriend or enemies, another favorite female protagonist of mine is undoubtedly from Brian De Palma’s 1976 adaptation of Stephen King’s first published novel Carrie (1974), where actress Sissy SpaceK brings the awkward and misunderstood Carrietta White to life. While not all can relate to the nerdy outcast that Carrie is, maybe others can sympathize with the trauma of her father leaving, or the constant blame and suffering her extremely religious mother forces upon her in wake of every “sin” she commits. Spending much of her time in the solitude of a closet or simply by herself in the classroom as to avoid almost constant torment, Carrie eventually discovers her telekinetic and telepathic abilities following an unfortunate scene where she menstruates for the first time in the girls’ locker room. In the end, Carrie is pushed over the edge during a prom prank, which entices her to punish not just her tormentors, but everyone who ever neglected or underestimated her. In the whirl of chaos, Carrie finally finds her “voice,” so to speak, which bubbles and boils over after being kept in for so long.
(If I’m ever investigated for arson, I swear it wasn’t me.)
Laura
While the footprint and influence of women in horror continues to expand with each passing month, after recently watching Psycho Goreman, I find myself thinking of the up-and-coming talent, and the importance of young women and girls in the genre. For just about any movie that features a young protagonist—especially in horror—you’ll find reviews expressing irritation at the presence or casting of a child in the film, no matter their acting talent. With the societal and cultural pressures that young women and girls face as they grow up, seeing horror through the eyes of this same demographic in storytelling remains crucially important in empathizing with their struggles, and also, really, remembering who we once were.
As I wrote for the Hooptober movie-watching challenge in October: In The Girl with All the Gifts (2016), “Melanie (Sennia Nanua), [is] a girl with a love of learning, who, like her classmates, is brutally restrained and treated only as an intelligent mimic of something human.” The Girl with All the Gifts is a story that carries the zombie narrative into the next generation, raising questions about the cost of the survival of the human race.
The Girl with All the Gifts, 2016
As a character, and with Nanua’s brilliant performance, Melanie successfully strikes the incredibly delicate balance between being a highly intelligent, empathetic young woman in a completely dehumanizing situation, and navigating the ongoing crisis of her identity. Those who were raised as women likely see the reflection of their own lived experiences in this description: As we grow up, at no point are we ever told that what we’re doing—or more importantly, who we are—is ever enough. We know from studies in intersectional feminism that this becomes more complicated for young women of color. But, as Melanie is treated as both a potential threat and source of hope for the last vestiges of humankind, this transitional space of being is also the key that helps this character slip past the strictures of horrid abuse and expectation. Seen from the perspective of the last of humankind, Melanie could be labelled monstrous. But if we pivot the camera—change the perspective—we can see she is so much more than that: she’s a young woman with a love for learning, able to navigate an incredibly dangerous landscape with the prowess of an apex predator, and, most importantly, she carries the hope for the future. (That future just might not include humans.) As I wrote in the Hooptober review: “One of the first and most prominent lines from House of Leaves comes to mind: ‘This is not for you.’ [...] The Girl with All the Gifts is a crucial step in the evolution of the zombie subgenre, carrying it forward into the next generation—a time where the living dead have new things to say. Truly, this is not for us. This is their world now.”
In a more lighthearted direction, Psycho Goreman (2020) is a kids’ horror-comedy where brother and sister duo Mimi (Nita-Josee Hanna) and Luke (Owen Myre) uncover a gem from beyond the stars that controls the most evil, dangerous monster in the universe. Aptly named Psycho Goreman, the alien terror functionally takes on the role of both friend and the family dog for the siblings while assassins from across the universe descend on Earth to eliminate the threat.
Mimi, unabashed and with no reservations, is the one to control PG with the gem throughout the majority of the film, proving more than capable of being his narrative counterpart. Psycho Goreman, an ’80s and ’90s throwback in aesthetic and execution, was crafted with such love and care, and with such a spirit of fun, that this was genuinely the first time I remember laughing and having such a good time with a movie in months. Though the fixation on nostalgia may be a bit off-putting for some, what works most here is that though there’s an interstellar assassin right in the heart of suburbia, Mimi is just able to be a kid. The character is loud, bold, and rough around the edges, and certainly bossy. Here, too, is also a critical point that explains Psycho Goreman’s success: The writing, acting, character design—everything—all capture the spirit of what it’s like being a kid. In this movie, Mimi being bossy is not a judgement: It’s truly who this character is at this moment in time. And maybe that’s something just as important for women and feminine-presenting folks to remember: Right here, right now, you’re awesome and capable as you are.
Theresa
Sidney Prescott. What else can I say? Directed by Wes Craven, Scream (1996) was one of the first movies that drew me to horror. I love the gore, the twisty plot, the gender-bendy and slightly homoerotic relationship between Stu (Matthew Lillard) and Billy (Skeet Ulrich), and that the murders largely take place inside the home.
Scream, 1996
The home is a place dominated by women. In the ’90s, we saw a lot of push back on traditional gender norms throughout film, but in spite of that, we don’t see women neglecting domestic duties. The home is still safe—an orderly confined space with a system to keep danger on the outside. The dangerous parts of society are locked out, which is precisely what makes Scream so scary: the brutality takes place where men assert themselves inside this safe haven. The brilliance of it is the combination of reckless American teenagers and the invasion of suburban heteronormative daily life, which is most strongly indicated in the opening and closing of Scream. Who can forget the incredible scene where Casey (Drew Barrymore) is dragged, telephone in hand, and then gutted and hung from a tree for her parents to find? The perfect horror film victim, Casey only makes two small mistakes: She’s home alone, and she answers a question wrong. Two moments that poke at her vulnerability, intelligence, and innocence as a young woman. It begs the question: If home isn’t safe, where is? Similar to Nightmare on Elm Street and Hellraiser, the danger isn’t outside; it’s inside right next to you. And in these other films, too, there is a brave female protagonist subverting gender norms and eventually reclaiming the home as her own space.
I’ve never been able to shake the subversive brotherhood between the two boys, but even more than that, I can’t get over Sidney’s cunning and confidence as a teenager, punctuated by an excellent performance by ’90s heartthrob Neve Campbell. Sid always suspects that something isn’t right with her boyfriend. The viewer chalks it up to her trauma, maybe some anxiety, maybe because we still don’t believe women when they speak out against wrongdoings. But for Sid, none of this matters. She doesn’t care that people are questioning her; she only cares about following her intuition and seeking the truth about her mother’s death.
The great reveal in Scream is one of my favorite scenes. We learn that the boys have been plotting this for a long time—that they’ve been murdering for a long time. But we also learn that Sidney has been developing her plan for a long time, too. The sex scene with Sid and Steve poses as a means to save a strained relationship. It’s uncomfortable because it plays as coercion, not a fully consensual act. However, by the end of the film, we realize that Sid was manipulating Steve in order to narrow down the possible suspects. Using her body as a distraction is a classic trope of the “devious woman.” We may not completely agree with Sid’s decision, but regardless, her confidence in her own skin is remarkable, especially for a teenager. After surviving the trauma of losing her mother in an extremely brutal way, Sidney confronts the murderers head-on, never doubting herself and using all of the tools available to her to put her personal and interpersonal demons to rest.
Article written by The Academic Horror Writers League
What Sleeps Beneath is a labor of love. You can support us by reading our articles, telling your friends about us, and donating to the online magazine.
