humorizing the hag: how ‘barbarian’ both succeeds and fails to challenge its audience
Zach Cregger’s Barbarian attempts to be a critique of several forms of violence: gentrification, the deterioration of the middle class, rape culture, and the differences of experiences between men and women.
And Cregger mostly succeeds at addressing these issues. However, Cregger’s treatment of his protagonist (or maybe anti-hero?) creates fodder for cheap laughs and weakens his overall goal.
Brief Synopsis
Through an awkward mix-up, a young woman and a strange man are forced to share an Airbnb for the weekend. Both stumble upon more than they bargained for when they uncover a hidden bunker and the secrets stowed away in its darkness.
Tess’ Fears Versus Keith’s Annoyances
Tess (Georgina Campbell) is a young filmmaker who is in Detroit to interview for a position to work on a documentary film with a director she admires. She arrives on the horror genre’s favorite kind of night: a dark torrential downpour. Unfortunately for Tess, the Airbnb house she rented is already occupied by another guest (and two others the audience has no idea of). Keith (Bill Skarsgard) is nice enough and goes out of his way to show he is “not like other guys”, he is still an unfamiliar man to Tess.
While Keith sees their predicament as merely an inconvenience and grounds for a refund, Tess is markedly more hesitant about sharing the house than Keith. She locks every door she closes, has an escape route planned, does not drink anything that Keith offers, and even sneaks a peek into Keith’s wallet for his ID when he is not looking.
Tess and Keith’s different reactions to the situation illustrate the depressing differences in experience between men and women (or those assigned female at birth). Sometimes minor inconveniences for men could mean life or death scenarios for women and non-men. For instance, one’s car breaking down on the side of the road at night, or walking home, or drinking at a bar--there are innumerable examples.
And before any men’s rights activist losers come at me, I understand men suffer as well. But lo and behold, they suffer from causes of the patriarchy! Almost as if it is not beneficial for anyone other than a very select few? Maybe?
Tess remains vigilant about her surroundings, and this vigilance only increases when she stumbles upon a hidden room in the basement. The room holds only a video camera and the bloody mattress it is focused on.
Keith’s response to Tess’ panic is something along the lines of “I am not going to leave just because of some old stuff in a storage room.” Keith’s somewhat annoyed (and gaslight-y) response and refusal to trust Tess proves to be a deadly mistake.
Spoiler alert:
he dies.
Gentrification & Violence in the Midwest
Barbarian presents us with two forms of violence: the sexual violence perpetuated by patriarchy, and the violence of gentrification perpetuated by capitalism and white supremacy.
Barbarian is set in modern day Detroit. The first time Tess leaves the house she is slapped in the face by the absolute destruction of a once thriving community.
Where there were once families there are now only decaying, abandoned homes—vestiges of an America long gone. The effects of Detroit’s white flight and the decentralization of the auto industry haunt the city; and these effects reverberate throughout America.
It is more pronounced in Detroit, but gentrification is an issue in all popular and densely populated areas. As someone who grew up traveling between New Orleans and Austin from a young age, I watched in horror as I saw two towns that meant so much to me change to the needs of transplants and a housing market that cannot supply the demand. This insidious undercurrent of white supremacy runs beneath the film as we meet AJ(Justin Long), just one example of patriarchal aggression.
AJ is a man we all know—a man who is uneducated in the importance of consent and what enthusiastic consent is. AJ only cares about his actions when it directly affects his wellbeing and career success. Without consequences for his actions, he could remain as he was when the viewer meets him—singing in a convertible overlooking the ocean, devoid of regret over his past behavior. When he is “me too’d” he instantly loses career opportunities and money.
AJ is the villain—he is the barbarian (also Frank, the other perpetrator of violence in the film). In addition to his disregard for those around him and his trivialization of sexual assault, he is also a landlord (derogatory).
He owns the Airbnb that the Mother was born and imprisoned in. When he first discovers Mother’s prison he is filled with joy over its square footage, meaning more money to charge potential buyers. He directly contributes to the devastation the neighborhood has experienced and will continue to as long as landlords come to flip houses into profit.
When Tragedy Becomes Humorous For the Wrong Audience
I distinctly remember the fear the audience felt in the theatre as the mother smashed Keith’s head against the rocky wall, but I also remember how that silence was replaced with laughter at the sight of the mother’s sagging breasts.
Humor helps make light of some of our greatest fears, and in this case, it is the fear of an aging woman.
Whether this was Cregger’s intention or not, it still resulted in an audience of people laughing at the Mother, a victim and product of decades of incest and rape.
I understand some may say “well she is a monster, you’re reaching.” But I am not. Horror has long been a conduit for society’s fears. The horror of the Mother’s appearance is for a reason: to make light of the disgust of aging.
The most memorable scene from the film, one that has been meme’d ad nauseam, is when the Mother force feeds AJ (who arguably deserves it) with her breast. I believe Cregger means for it to serve as poetic justice: a man who forced himself onto another woman now becoming the one who is forced.
But we do not laugh in celebration of Mother, the vigilante. Rather, we laugh at Mother, the old woman.
