+ another review by Cynthia Fuchs
One Bite too few, One Boob too many
What makes a vampire movie sexy? For most people I
have talked with, it is the subtle sexuality in the
biting of the neck, the mysterious nature of the
vampire, and the danger he or she represents. Vampire
movies have always been saturated with eroticism. The Forsaken takes this idea further. My first thought
after seeing it was that it was a poorly made B-movie
with a relatively large budget, that took itself way
too seriously, featuring gratuitously naked females
and mediocre acting. The Forsaken seems to think
that a cool soundtrack will make it hip and that
nudity will make it sexy. Wrong.
We are introduced to Sean (Kerr Smith) in Los Angeles,
where he cuts movie trailers for low budget horror
movies. With tidy brown hair and neat dress, Sean is
portrayed as a hardworking, nice guy with a backbone
(as we can see when he puts his job on the line in
order to demand time off of work to attend his
sister's wedding in Miami). In order to save some
money and have some fun, Sean takes a job driving a
rich divorcee's Mercedes to Miami. Early in his trip,
he picks up a hitchhiker named Nick (Brendan Fehr),
who turns out to be a vampire hunter. On their way
through the great state of Texas, Sean and Nick pick
up a girl (Izabella Miko) who has been bitten by a
vampire and proceed to use her as a homing device in
order to lure the main vampire (Johnathon Schaech) to
his death. In The Forsaken, vampirism is a
"telegenic" infection of the blood, a disease whose
effects may be deterred by the use of a pill cocktail
discovered by an HIV+ doctor in the 1980s, and whose
only cure is the destruction of the original vampire.
The vampires communicate a great deal through
telepathy, hence the means by which Nick is able to
use the girl as a homing device.
Just like many vampire movies in the past, The Forsaken takes certain liberties with the history of
vampirism. In this version, vampires originated right
after the Crusades, in a battle in which 200 French
soldiers were left for dead by the Turks. Only nine
survive, and a demon appears, offering
them eternal life. Eight take the deal and use the
ninth's blood and flesh as a means of solidifying it.
When daylight comes, they are so ashamed of what they
have done that they retreat to a cave until nightfall,
upon which time they go their separate ways. One of
these is the vampire whom Nick and Sean must kill in
order to save both of their lives and that of the
girl.
This woman's role in the movie, while far from being
multi-faceted or complex, is the most intriguing of
the cast. In total, she only speaks about three times
in the entire movie, yet there are a number of aspects
to her role that I find particularly engaging. One of
these is her name. Apparently, it is Megan, but I do
not remember the cast uttering her name once. Her lack
of an established identity, beyond that of victim and
object to be fought over, adheres to the traditional
women's role in horror movies -- the pedestal on which
the battle between good and evil rests. Now, some
women are solely victims, body count, but there is
usually one female who is the heroine or who will be
rescued by the hero. The nameless girl, however, seems
to fall into both categories. Because she remains
nameless and because her body is given more attention
than her personality, she aligns with the former
classification of a nameless female victim. However,
because she is the object of affection for Sean as
well as his damsel in distress, her role is integral
to the plot, making her a pseudo-heroine if only for
the fact that she survives.
Her virtual lack of lines is another engaging aspect
of her role in the movie. The girl truly only speaks
in the last fifteen minutes of the movie, and only for
a total of about two minutes. This silence works along
the same line as her relative absence of a name,
making her more a nameless victim than a central
character. Usually, her body seems to do the speaking
for her, as in the film's first scene, when she is in
the shower, washing off blood. This scene makes her
seem important (because she's the sole focus in the
opening scene) and also reduces her significance by
focusing on her wet body.
The Forsaken goes on to use her body as a little
more than just eye candy. It serves as a point of
departure for an exploration of vampirism and its
effects. For instance, the part of the body we
normally associate with vampires is the neck.
Vulnerable, accessible, and containing a major artery,
the neck is open enough to the public eye so that
vampire movies from more modest generations could
develop that sexual aura without being extremely
overt. The Forsaken, however, moves beyond this
subtlety by placing the nameless woman's bite wound
near her groin. And this demonstrates my biggest
problem with the movie: it pushes too hard in an area
that doesn't need overt investigation and does not
examine areas that could actually make for an
intriguing horror movie. Instead of developing the
characters' personalities and histories, for example,
the creators take the easy way out by giving
exorbitant amounts of attention to their sexuality --
something for which U.S. audiences have shown an
insatiable hunger for time and again. Horror movies
appeal to the desire to be terrified, and if it
includes a strong erotic insinuation, so much the
better. The kind of terror that a horror movie
(hopefully) produces is a similar feeling in some ways
to sexual titillation, so the outright combination of
the two found in vampire movies often fuels that
appeal.
Vampire movies rely heavily on both those attractions
by leaning on intense heterosexual connotations as
well as the threat of death or the loss of, say, a
soul. While there are a few moments that made me
squirm and jump (to be fair, though, it must be said
that I am a squirmer when watching horror movies in
general), for the most part The Forsaken left little
to the imagination. The Forsaken tries too hard to
be the sexiest new entrant in the vampire movie genre.
And it fails.
