Men, Women, and Chain Saws: Gender in the Modern Horror Film (Princeton Classics): Gender in the Modern Horror Film - Updated Edition: 15 (Princeton Classics, 15)

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In her reading of both particular horror films and of film and gender theory, Clover does what every cultural critic hopes to: she calls into question our habits of seeing."—Ramona Naddaff, Artforum

According to Clover, one common trait amongst all victims in slasher films (male and women) is that they are sexual transgressors. I think this is no longer the case… just considering Scream, for example, Jamie Kennedy’s character dies in the sequel yet never is represented as sexually transgressive (although maybe his lust for Sidney counts?) Also, from the 90’s onward, the stoner character has been included in the list of slasher killer victims. Although he (usually its a guy) is not typically sexual, he still is killed (I guess he transgresses in other ways through his drug use).Victor’s struggles got slower and slower, until he was pleading with her, and then convulsing, these whole-body dry heaves, his eyes spilling tears, his face wet.

Jenna didn’t walk right up to the car but looped around, giving herself the chance to be wrong. There were more 1979 Camaros in the world than just that one, she knew. Clover attended the University of California at Berkeley for both her undergraduate and graduate studies. In 1965, Clover was a Fulbright Fellow at Uppsala University in Sweden. From 1971 to 1977 Clover was an assistant professor at Harvard University before returning to Berkeley, where she became Class of 1936 Professor Emerita in the departments of rhetoric, film and Scandinavian. [6] Honors [ edit ] Instead of approaching the Camaro, even though she could now see new glass glinting in the waning moon—new glass? from where?—she positioned the Subaru so its headlights were stabbing past the two uprights of the old marquee sign.

Chapter 1: Her Body, Himself

And—and at the trunk, leaning into it, her long hair nearly dragging on the ground but her strained face smiling, was Jenna’s mom.

She jerked her hand up to protect her eyes and caught a piece of glass in the heel of her hand. She held it up into the moonlight to see what she’d done now, and—yep: bleeding.She stood, leaned around to look in from the passenger side, and flinched a bit from Victor slinging that power cord for the little TV out so he could roll the passenger side window up, really relish this car’s interior. Clover makes a convincing case for studying the pulp-pop excesses of ‘exploitation' horror as a reflection of our psychic times." —-Misha Berson, San Francisco Chronicle