by Sam Bennett

Psycho Sex Symbols: the male gaze and psychopathic females throughout modern cinematic history

Psychopaths are hugely popular characters throughout cinematic history. Patrick Bateman, Alex DeLarge, Hannibal Lecter and Norman Bates are just some of the iconic psychopaths to grace our screens. Audiences love a bad guy, but, what about a bad girl?

Female psychopathic characters are no stranger to the silver screen, however, their presentation is strikingly different than that of their male counterparts.

Sexualisation of female characters has been a long-running theme in mainstream cinema and female psychopaths are not immune to this treatment. This sexualisation can be connected to the overbearing ‘male gaze’ that is evident throughout most of cinematic history. Laura Mulvey defines the ‘male gaze’ as the presentation of women through the eyes of a heterosexual male as passive objects of male desire. Simply put, female characters are often created on screen for the pleasure of a straight male audience and not the furthering of the plot. That being said, the male gaze coupled with female sociopathic characters creates a new objectification and propels misogynistic tropes to new levels. We are going to take a look back over this evolution and discuss if the past 60 years have taught us anything about how to treat women in cinema, especially the murderous ones.

For the purpose of this discussion, the female psychopaths will be defined as those who present elements of mainstream understandings/beliefs of psychopathy. These traits include, but are not limited to, narcissism, lack of empathy, superficial charm, grandiose sense of self-worth and manipulative behaviour. Some of the characters discussed may not be scientifically defined as a psychopath but are presented as psychopaths in the realms of mainstream cinema.

Psycho-Biddy

First up on our look through cinematic psychopathic history is the creation of the psycho-biddy genre and its female stars.

The psycho-biddy genre can be defined as a horror film with a formerly glamorous ageing female lead who becomes progressively more mentally unstable and torments those around her.

The film that is credited with the conception of this genre is the 1962 film What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? directed by Robert Aldrich. In short, What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? tells the story of the downward spiral of a former child star, Jane Hudson (Bette Davis), as she tries to find new fame in her old age whilst also keeping her sister, Blanche (Joan Crawford), a prisoner in their own home.

The film presents Jane’s unstable mental state as the overarching theme of the plot, however, the treatment and reasoning behind her psychopathy dictated by the film is the main interest of this discussion. Jane’s obsession with herself, her horrendous treatment of her sister and her murder of their maid, Elvira Stitt (Maidie Norman), are all confirmations of her psychopathy. The film, however, tries to frame her actions and mental state as a consequence of her ageing looks and loss of fame. In the context of the film, she became lethally psychopathic because she lost her attract-ability, her appeal. More subtly, the film tries to loosely suggest that women want to be adored/looked at and when they lose this ‘ability’, they lose themselves. This treatment of age and beauty is grossly misogynistic and confirms the male gaze viewpoint in the film. Jane may not be a passive object for male desire in the film but she is still victim to the misogynistic lens.

Ageing as a factor of psychopathy is a major idealogy throughout the psycho-biddy genre and is used to perpetuate misogynistic tropes about women’s worth as they go through life.

Mommie Dearest, directed by Frank Perry, is a 1981 film that further confirms the theory of age and the male gaze. Similar to What Ever Happened to Baby Jane?, the film follows the story of Joan (Faye Dunaway) as she slowly loses her fame and her resulting deteriorating mental state. The main relationship displayed and the setting of Joan’s psychopathy is between Joan and her adopted daughter, Christina (Mara Hobel/Diana Scarwid). As Joan’s career begins to dwindle, which is suggested to be due to her inevitable ageing, she focuses her anger and lack of control on her daughter. Through Joan’s actions, it is clear she sees her daughter as competition or a threat to her image and expects her daughter to adore her like her fans of the past. A particular scene that highlights this viewpoint, and Joan’s violent psychopathy, is when Joan walks in to find her daughter putting on makeup and imitating her. Joan flies into a rage and aggressively cuts off Christina’s hair with a pair of scissors. This kind of abuse and clear obsession with oneself solidifies Joan’s status as a psychopath. This diagnosis, however, is framed within the context of her narcissistic image of herself and her failing career. Joan loses her star appeal and then becomes a violent psychopath, taking out the majority of her rage on the embodiment of the people she sees as taking her career, a younger woman. The misogynistic approach to the characterisation of Joan and the justification of the male gaze through this is not well hidden.

The two films above demonstrate that the psycho-biddy genre possessed a different type of male gaze than that of other classic genres. These women are not presented to be passive objects of desire, they are the aftermath of being such objects. These films are making a comment about age and women that is less than complimentary and there is an attempt to justify the male gaze as a wanted occurrence for women. According to these films, when women are no longer looked at or adored they become psychopaths. The male gaze has many angles and the psycho-biddy genre is just one section of its multifaceted range.

Sex, Sex and More Sex

The late '80s and '90s cinema took female psychopaths and added more sex, more violence and more Michael Douglas. If the psycho-biddy genre was about fame and age, the 90’s female psychopath is about sex, power and iconography. This era of cinema saw a distinct lax in uptight opinions about cinematic sexual displays and the film industry went sexy.

Basic Instinct (Paul Verhoeven 1992) is arguable one of the most provocative and iconic films of this era in cinematic history. The film was shocking, violent and full of sex whilst telling the story of an eerily mysterious writer, Catherine Tramell (Sharon Stone), as she becomes the prime suspect in the brutal murder of a retired rock star. She slowly manipulates the lead detective, Nick Curran (Michael Douglas), into an intensely sexual relationship and purposely leads him into an anxious state as he begins to question those around him as more murders occur.

Catherine is a highly intelligent psychopath and a lethal one at that, however, the film manages to consistently disarm her by relentlessly sexualising her.

The character’s introduction to the film is through a graphic sex scene between her and the soon to be deceased rock star, Jonny Boz. There are two people in this scene but the camera struggles to focus on anything but her naked body. Her scene partner eventually gets some screen time when she plunges an ice pick into his upper trunk multiple times. This scene sets the tone for what’s to come.

Throughout the film, Catherine’s character is rarely on screen without the pretext of sex or being looked at in a sexual nature. Even at points where she appears to be holding the power, there is an addition of sexualisation. For example, during her interrogation, she is surrounded by men and holding her own. Then, for zero addition to the plot, she uncrosses her legs to show her genitals. The effect of this doesn’t last long in the scene and essentially just becomes another way to show her as a sex symbol and not much else. She is a major part of the plot but doesn’t get much in the way of agency and is solely characterised on her manipulative ability and an insatiable appetite for sex. She exists in relation to the men around her and not in her own right.

The sexualisation of Catherine is an obvious and deliberate choice by the filmmakers and is celebrated in a trailer for the DVD release of the film. The trailer disregards the plot of the film and instead focuses on how much x-rated content is in the film and the bonus x-rated content that comes with the DVD (yes, really). Essentially, they are selling sex and not a plot.

The entire film, and the trailer mentioned above, depict her as an object for male desire and something that needs to be captured or tamed. This is confirmed during the final moments of the film where Nick and Catherine are laying naked in bed discussing the future. Catherine refrains from killing Nick after deciding the prospect of spending their lives together was more appealing. So, according to this film, all a female psychopath needs is the love and affection of a man and she’ll be cured. How nice.

Basic Instinct detailed a man taming a female psychopath but, according to the male gaze tropes of cinema, can the man create one?

This trope is explored in Adrian Lyne’s 1987 film, Fatal Attraction. The film details the full-blown creation of a psychopath in the form of Alex Forrest (Glen Close) after her weekend exploits with married Dan Gallagher come to an abrupt end (Michael Douglas). Dan tries to continue his life as normal after tossing his weekend fling to the side but Alex gets progressively more obsessed, desperate and violent whilst yearning for the attention of Dan. This can be seen in her stalking of Dan, her unpredictability and her unsuccessful attempt at murdering Dan’s wife.

The character of Alex is terrifying at times and her psychopathic tendencies cannot be denied but this psychopathy is presented as the result of being denied by a man. This characterisation relies on the assumption that the viewer believes women need the acceptance of men, that they are clingy and that they are unable to dissociate sex from emotions. Relying on these assumptions means that the plot is from a misogynistic viewpoint and requires the audience to hold these same views. This is another form of the male gaze.

So far, the male gaze has been discussed in relation to adult female psychopaths. The sexualisation of these characters and the misogynistic characterisation is offensive, however, nothing is more offensive or wrong than the use of this male gaze on young teenage girls.

Wild Things (John McNaughton 1998) is not a film widely praised as a cinematic feat but it does present an interesting discussion on how far-reaching the male gaze is.

The film has a host of potential psychopathic characters but, for this discussion, our focus will be on Kelly (Denise Richards) and Suzie (Neve Campbell). They are in a sexual relationship with each other and their male high school teacher, Mr Lombardo (Matt Dillon). The trio all plot a false rape allegation against Mr Lombardo so that he can claim damages from Kelly’s mother which they will all then share. There are multiple twists, multiple murders and multiple guilty parties. It is not the simplest of plots and often leaves the audience more confused than entertained.

Suzie and Kelly display psychopathic behaviours and rarely show any remorse for their actions, even the murderous ones, if it results in successfully pursuing their own needs. This aspect of their characters is not greatly explored and the film instead focuses on their objectification or the male characters. The teenagers are highly sexualised throughout the majority of the film, including their same-sex relationship. Two scenes emphasise this offensive sexualisation. After the money has been confirmed for the trio, Kelly and Suzie sneak into Mr Lombardo’s motel room to surprise him. This scene proceeds into a threesome and Mr Lombardo can be seen putting his hands underneath Kelly’s school skirt and pulling her white y-fronts to her ankles around her white frilly school socks. This scene is clearly emphasising her young age and playing into the disturbing school girl fantasy popularised by pornography. Another example of their sexualisation, this time focusing on their same-sex relationship, is during a scene when Kelly and Suzie become violent with each other due to the anxiety of getting caught for their crimes. As their violent outbursts reach a crescendo and it appears Kelly is going to drown Suzie, they end up stopping to kiss and are presumed to have sex, all whilst a male detective watches on. Bizarre, at best.

The teenagers’ sexualisation and relationships with the men in the film is what propels the film forward and not any serious characterisation or plot developments. The depiction of psychopathy in these young women is used to justify their presentation as sex symbols and inflammatory plot points. They are dangerous and, therefore, do not have the same protections of normal teenagers. They are fair game for the male gaze and its viewer. The film is hugely problematic and the female psychopathic characters deserved better than contributing to the fetishisation of schoolgirls and lesbians.

The female psychopaths of the late ’80s and ’90s discussed so far have lacked agency and deeper character backstories. They are objects or vehicles for the propagation of offensive female stereotypes. There was a film in the ‘90s, however, that attempted to create a new cinematic female psychopath.

Natural Born Killers (Oliver Stone 1994) tells the wild tale of a loved up couple on a murderous rampage across America. The film became an iconic cult classic due to its visual style and graphic content. It is worthy of a full analysis but for the purpose of this study, the focus will be on Mallory Knox (Juliette Lewis).

Mallory is a fully-fledged character in the film and is given an interesting backstory which is often referenced to explain some of her psychopathic tendencies. She is a compelling character but the most fascinating aspect of her presentation is how she reacts to her sexualisation. Her introduction to the film is a prime example of how she attacks the idea of being a passive object.

Mallory enters the film as she dances next to a jukebox in a bikini top and low rise jeans. The men around her are staring and the camera follows their viewpoint. One man goes so far as to use a beer bottle as a phallic symbol and grinds near her. His hilarity does not last long as she then smashes his head with said beer bottle (how symbolic)and kills him. An icon for female psychopaths everywhere. This attack on her sexualisation appears frequently and does give the illusion that Mallory is in charge of her presentation to others and does not allow herself to be objectified. That being said, the film does include moments where she cannot defend her image.

Towards the end of the film, there are repetitive inclusions of a quick shot of breasts and a shadowed man putting his mouth against them. The short scene is heavily suggested to be Mallory and Mickey. As the man is shadowed and only appears as an outline, it is clear the focus of the shot is the breasts. The inclusion of the shot, even with its repetitive nature, does not add anything and gives the impression of taking away the empowerment given to the character of Mallory. The unnecessary nature of the shots further amplifies this impression of putting Mallory in her place.

Natural Born Killers shows that you can have a female psychopath with power and agency but only as much as the male gaze allows.

This period of female psychopathic cinema is hyper-sexualised and overtly violent. Excess seems to be the norm and the male gaze is shown at it’s absolute worst. The filmmakers knew what they were doing, sex sells and the male gaze knows its audience.

So, given the predictability of the male gaze and mainstream cinema, can we be shocked that not even Mallory could escape its misogynistic lens? Of course not. As the Old Indian foretold her; bitch, you knew it was a snake.

A Period of Enlightenment. Or is it?

Modern-day cinema has seen an attempt at targeted removal of the male gaze and increased representation behind and in front of the camera. This revolution is more than welcome but how successful is it and how have our dangerous women faired in this new age?

Cinema may be changing but audiences’ love for a bad girl has not.

Some of the most well-known bad girls in modern times are Harley Quinn (Suicide Squad/Birds of Prey) and Amy Dunne (Gone Girl). They are strikingly different portrayals of cinematic psychopaths but they both present an interesting analysis of the male gaze and its role for the present era.

Harley Quinn (Margot Robbie) is a villain turned goodie in David Ayer’s Suicide Squad. She is the Joker’s on and off partner and is just as lethal as her other half. Her inclusion in the 2016 film raised the character’s popularity to new heights, but not for reasons that scream female empowerment. Despite her addition in the plot being due to the fact that she is just as dangerous as the male counterparts of the team, she is given very few lines of importance and is clearly there for sex appeal. For example, the now infamous scene of her changing in front of the special forces and her male teammates is the defining aspect of her characterisation. She’s a sex symbol before anything else.

Birds of Prey (and the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn)

This lacking characterisation and the overtly sexual display is lazy choice by the filmmaker and does not give the famous comic book character the attention she deserves. The filmmakers choice to depict Harley Quinn as such created further sexualisation in the real world in the form of fan art and Halloween costumes. The male gaze in the film is easily applied by Ayer and its influence on audiences does not give much hope for its eradication.

Suicide Squad did not do wonders for the empowered female psychopath but one film that tried to change the tide was Gone Girl by David Fincher.

Amy Dunne (Rosamund Pike) is the female psychopath at the helm of this film and she is a very good one at that. She is highly intelligent, classically beautiful, unapologetically sexual and a manipulative, murderous bitch.

Gone Girl follows Amy’s intricate plan to destroy her husband’s, Nick (Ben Affleck), life and the things she is willing to do to ensure she always comes out on top.

Amy is shown to be able to easily destroy the men around her by using their own misogynistic, egotistical ways against them and it is refreshing to watch. She is her own person and is a threat to the fragile masculinity of her husband; she is more successful, richer, better looking and a threat to the societal expectations and stereotypical visions of a man. She grants Nick the illusion that they are equal at the beginning of their relationship but knows how to handle him once he begins to understand his true position in life. He is not on her metaphorical level. He is a passive object in the life she provides for them. Her successful plan to destroy his life and set him up for her murder is a hyper-sensationalised version of her control on his life. Things happen to him but he is not active in his own destiny. In the example of her staged disappearance and presumed murder, she knows how he will come across to law enforcement and the media and, therefore, puts him in a prison of his own making. He is a passive yet fundamental aspect of his own demise and Amy takes pleasure in watching her object do exactly as she planned. The situation Amy has created for Nick and her ability to manipulate every aspect of the journey presents a terrifying psychopath. Most crucially, she is not sexualised or disarmed but shown as always one step ahead.

Amy has many interesting aspects but the most crucial to her ability to live as a psychopath is her proficiency in weaponising the idea of femininity and whiteness. This skill is best displayed during the scene where she is in hospital surrounded by male officers as she recounts her alleged kidnapping and rape at the hands of an ex-boyfriend, Desi (Neil Patrick Harris). She sits in a wheelchair, covered in the deceased Desi’s blood and manipulates the men into falling for her fragility and helplessness whilst making them uncomfortable with the made-up details leading to Desi’s murder at her hands. She knows that to this group she is the ideal victim; a white, upper-class woman. The cultural identity she has harnessed does not require interrogation by these men. Therefore, to deny the existence of this social commentary in the film is missing the point. Amy can get away with all of her crimes without question because society has deemed her as trustworthy and the pillar of righteousness.

David Fincher has not sexualised Amy or ended her story by being defeated by the man. Instead, he has provided comment on society and the intricate ways racial microaggressions infect every day lives. Amy and her characterisation is the embodiment of privilege. Gone Girl is a film about a female psychopath but it is the ability of her to live with impunity that is the focus of the film.

This current era of cinema has a lot of work to do with its representation of women. In saying that, Fincher’s Gone Girl gives a slither of hope that there is an appetite for interesting female characters beyond the realm of objectification and male pleasure.

Conclusion

Female psychopaths have been popular characters throughout cinematic history. The male gaze has put them through the wringer and continuously disarmed them through overt sexualisation, but, maybe times are changing. Gone Girl shows that there is a possibility to escape the male gaze’s intrusive nature and find another way to present women, even the murderous ones.

That being said, mainstream cinema has a lot of work to do.

Every film mentioned in this discussion was made by a man and every actress discussed was white and usually blonde. The male gaze creates and allows for offensive tropes about women to be presented on the silver screen, however, it is important to emphasise that it caters predominantly for a white, heterosexual, male audience and that in turn whitewashes cinematic narratives. The extinction of the male gaze would be a welcomed notion in cinema but we have to start discussing how it infiltrated cinema and who benefitted from its continued infection of the medium.

As much as there is continued dialogue happening around representation, words can only do so much. There cannot be a distinct and positive change in cinema unless there is a deliberate attempt to create more diverse crews, casts and stories.

Diversify cinema, diversify psychopathic women, too.

Psycho Sex Symbols