Disability is in Everything (Including our Villains): BARBARIAN

Warning: HARK! There are spoilers here, traveler. Take the road less littered with thought.

TW: Mentions of SA, Mentions of abusers and labeling of sexual abusers, death.

Happy Horror season! I feel so happy to have made it and see you all here! Personally, I feel really excited about most of the horror we've been getting/will get this fall. It finally reminds me of when I'd go to the movies as a teenager and I'd have beginner's bangers like Insidious, Paranormal Activity, Sinister, and so many more, waiting to be devoured. Nostalgic for a fantastic and original movie line ups during October, you can bet your bottom dollar that I'm grabbing some sriracha for my popcorn and reminding myself to relax on the drinks; it's movie time, baby! And starting off, I got really lucky in my first pick. Possibly a new favorite.

I want to be clear and say that I understand that this movie was not a hit for everyone. And I can see how the director's (Zach Cregger) insistence that he was always making a "sympathetic" story for SA survivors, is indeed, a little hypocritical given the monsterfication of a certain character's body, let alone some of her other non-human characteristics, like super strength, speed, etc. Yet, I do think some of the other issues, nay-sayers of Barbarian could feel like lingering after-thoughts on purpose. Subtextual clues, soft like ready mold clay.

I have some of my own theories that I feel help fill in some people's questions. Obviously, if you have your own explanations, I'd love to hear them! I think what's really great about the type of storytelling in Barbarian is that it's a movie that could feel collaborative. One that doesn't spell out all of the movie's intention, for fear that we aren't smart enough to make meaning on our own and that the plot will just lay in our minds, unplayed. Rot, that will ultimately dissolve into some heapful pile of forgot, and moving onto the next, meaningless mush - which, you could argue, doesn't happen, and if you're annoying enough, you could even argue your personal interruption, into anyone! Yet, even though Barbarian does make the idea of your opinionated movie foes, begging on their knees for mercy, seem extremely tempting, confusing each other into circles isn't truly the most delicious part: the storytelling is so solid, so foundational, that almost everyone's interpretations, their own meaning fueled by a rolodex of applied memory, can be upheld and respected. That there is no "right" or "wrong" idea within the consistent lore or cinematic creation. Just an invitation to come out and play.

Obviously, because I am autistic, and constantly thinking of the ways disability shows up in movies, my mind could not move past the title; what does being a barbarian even mean? Associatively, my mind went immediately to gladiators wearing fur pelts. It wasn't awhile until maybe 2/3 of my way through the movie that I started to ask myself not what is a barbarian, but who is the titled "barbaric" one within this complex cast. Further along the way, perhaps even at the ending, I came to the conclusion that if everyone in the movie exhibits "barbaric" and morally-corrupt behavior, then who is actually deemed-to-be human? Who is garnered, and ultimately respected enough, to be rewarded with their humanity? Who the audience, walking away, knows that they were always the good guy? For some viewers, this answer may be obvious. To me, and others who could have multiple intersectional identities, know that the promise of humanity can be fickle. Something that could be taken away at almost any time.

The layering within the movie constantly shows us the ways we as a society not only re-enforces the unstable system of "humanity" labels, but how paranoid we are in our own, interpersonal pursuits on "checking" the humanity in the humans around us, is honestly really interesting. Starting off with even the environment of the movie, we have almost three pieces of the same universe finally coming together now as a wearable, seeable suit. The outer layer takes place in Detroit, a city notoriously terrorized and demonized by institutional and systematic racism. The second layer, the AirBnB, is the only home standing amongst a completely devastated and destroyed neighborhood, for reasons unknown. The third layer, where most of the movie's climax takes place, is a dark and dangerous row of tunnels that houses arguably one "monster" and its victim. The moment we are thrown into Barbarian we already have allegiances, by meeting Tess (Georgina Campbell), and we are already protective over her when she interacts with the other dwellers of the home. Even threats outside of it, too. Like the police (who do nothing but further endanger her.) and Andre (an unhoused man, who aids Tess and helps her the whole time.)

Two characters, in particular, I find incredibly fascinating; For starters, Campbell did an absolutely fantastic job playing up the tension surrounding someone like Tess. The laundry list of "threats" stacked against her, the believableness of who Tess, as a person, aligns herself with and recognizes who is "safe" and who she needs to have on reserve, is so haunting. The calculation we see in her eyes, while she assesses who or whom's intentions against her, says a lot about symbolic markers of safety and how they can wave depending on others' behavior. Take AJ (Justin Long) for example. In retrospect, it is partially AJ's fault that she and he are both in the Mother's (a nurturing, yet protective creature described to have been created by a long line of generational SA from the hands of a serial killer, obsessed with motherhood.) nest, due to his negligence. Moments before Tess and AJ meet, we learn that AJ is a Hollywood actor who misuses his power and becomes a rapist. Given the initial introduction we had to Tess, we know that she is someone who is cautious, especially when it comes to her own sexual safety, and actively protects herself, exhibited by her distrust of Keith and the "innocent" likelihood of them being double-booked in the same home. In everyday circumstances, Tess would stay away from AJ. However, due to their circumstances in the tunnel, she has no other choice but to take her pick in allegiance: AJ, who later shoots and tries to sacrifice her in order to get away, vs Mother, a victim of SA herself, who arguably has almost the same motivations to survive as Tess, but due to her "monsterfication", is stripped of that victim status. Seen as someone who is dangerous, though truly is really only a danger to AJ, a person who resembles and later mistakingly humanizes with her abuser, the true monster stalking the tunnels. The question of who will Tess eventually aligns her humanity with is both a vehicle, carrying the story from plot point to plot point and the final torch-passer of the barbarian status. Saying that a "barbaric" choice may be the only way that she survives.

Then there's Keith (Bill Skarsgard). What's the genius behind this character is that his existence fuels the evidential nature of Tess's continuous and life-saving instincts; we don't know anything, actually. And that's terrifying, given the fact that I believe the AirBnB does indeed "call to" a spectrum of abusers and that Keith was in no way an accidental double-booked. We've already established that Barbarian likes to work within layers of three (Detroit, the Airbnb, the tunnels), meaning that the starting-to-end line of abusers within in the movie is extremely, and eerily, unclear; Is Keith the start, where he is the first flame to touch the match or the singed bottom? Is he an opportunistic assaulter, waiting for the first sight of Tess letting her guard down, thus snowballing into the next abuser, Aj, the rapist, the old man/serial killing nightmare, and so on? Or, is Keith something far worse than even the serial killer? Perhaps a living parasite, causing the entire neighborhood to descend into rot with his mere presence. The order of who was in the house is unclear and the idea that Keith could be not only the original evil but also have the ability to transform himself into the ideal marker of what it means to be recognized as a "human", is so terrifying. Yet, it's awesome to think that someone like Tess, a person rightfully untrusting of the "Keiths" in the world, could have perhaps accidentally taken down Detroit's biggest demon. An internal threat, stalking the city.

An ending I would have liked differently is obviously lifting the initial demise of Mother. As someone who quite honestly grew up feeling both aligned with topics surrounding femme characters (I.e. a lack of body autonomy, patriarchal-state violence, etc.) as well as classic Universal and Hollywood monsters (ostracized and punished for being different), I felt conflicted In the result of Tess killing Mother. I understand it was self-defense, but a big part of me wishes that they could have walked away, hand in hand. Lamenting their pain, together.