What do you think she meant when she said “a huge black monster with giant claws”?
Wolf Rilla’s Village of the Damned has been read as an allegory for many things since its release more than forty years ago. Peter Biskind, in his brief analysis of the film, views the group of children with the matching blonde hair and glowing eyes as the hyperbolic realization of a conservative peer group gone wrong. Indeed, the group of children at the center of the film’s narrative all look the same, dress the same, act the same, and seem to share a collective consciousness in their decision making. Gordon Zellaby (played by George Sanders) even says at one point, “What we are dealing with here is a mass mind!” Biskind goes on to point out that once it is made clear that these children are bent on taking over not just one village but the world entire, even the solution for stopping them is a conservative one: “[Zellaby] simply blows them to smithereens with dynamite.” However, to claim the Village of the Damned children as examples of what happens when members of a society are taught to act too much alike would be erroneous. The children in the film don’t have to be taught to act as one, but come out of the womb ready to conform, if only to one another.
Another strong conservative element in the film is that of a sexual nature, and more specifically of female sexuality. By the middle of the twentieth century, the common female fear of unwanted pregnancy, as well as the fear of being abandoned by an irresponsible male after becoming pregnant, was moving to the foreground and being dealt with in a very pragmatic way in the introduction of scientific advancements in birth control. The narrative of Village of the Damned acknowledges the struggle that was taking place between religion and science over these new forms of birth control — most notably the birth control pill — in the decade leading up to the film’s release. The scientific community’s emerging ability to play God in reproducing humans through artificial insemination and test tube birth further complicated the traditional understanding of what it meant to be a childbearing female, as well as what it meant to be a sexually empowered female.
Village of the Damned opens with the entire population of Midwich, a small English village, falling asleep, only to reawaken a short time later. The adults of Midwich are forced to take a sort of afternoon nap against their own will. Upon waking, it’s revealed that every woman in Midwich capable of having a child is pregnant. Once the residents of Midwich figure out that not only have the women of the village been impregnated under mysterious circumstances, and not by their husbands, but will be giving birth to their children much sooner than normal, a mounting sense of fear begins to emerge as to what could be growing inside of these women.
In a different film, the case of an entire village falling asleep followed by the women of that village discovering they have been impregnated, could be regarded as a sort of communal Immaculate Conception. However, by 1960, the story of the Virgin Mary and the idea of a female becoming unknowingly impregnated no longer carried with it the pristine, positive ideals purported by religious teachings. The scenario presented in Village of the Damned is a frightening one, carrying with it elements of the common female fear of being raped, as well as the subsequent fear of an unwanted pregnancy from having been raped. And so, the film presents an Immaculate Conception gone wrong. The children that result from the mysterious pregnancies are terrifying to the entire population of the village, but are particularly terrifying to the mothers who birthed them, not only because the children have turned out to be so odd and frightening, but also because their uniqueness serves as a constant reminder that these women were violated while unconscious, and by whom, they do not know.
The difference is that in the case of pregnancy, the entire burden can be easily and unfairly placed upon the female, because not only does she have to carry the child through its first nine months of growth as well as birth it, but a woman is also the sole bearer of obvious, often excessive changes to her own body throughout the pregnancy. In the case of the Zellabys, an emphasis upon the fear of rape and unwanted pregnancy emerges through contrast: Anthea Zellaby is full of fear and doubt throughout her pregnancy, while her husband Gordon is calm and unconcerned, despite being equally unaware of what his wife is carrying inside of her body.
The opening sequence of Village of the Damned also explores the fear of inbreeding and its consequences, but again, the film deals with inbreeding through a series of contrasts. Inbreeding stereotypically results from isolation. The already isolated village of Midwich becomes further isolated by the boundaries drawn up by the scientists and military who are trying to figure out why everyone in Midwich has fallen asleep at the same time. The eventual scenario that unfolds, however, turns out to be the exact opposite of an incestuous situation. Not only are the impregnators from very far away, as they are probably interstellar travelers, but the children that result are also the opposite of typically inbred children. Rather than being mentally and physically compromised, these children are ultra-intelligent, developing at mental and physical rates unheard of to mankind. They are even telepathic, capable of making others do as they please, no matter how dire the consequences may be.
Gordon Zellaby is an interesting figure in all this, in that he begins the film as a logical man of science, as well as somewhat overly calm and unsympathetic to what his wife is going through during her pregnancy, as well as the emotional pain and fright that she endures after having given birth to their child. Released in 1960, Gordon’s behavior in Village of the Damned is prescient in its anticipation of the threatening realities the birth control pill – as well as test tube babies and other modern means of reproducing humans – would have upon males in the emerging decade ahead. Not only did these new types of technology disempower the male and his ability to reproduce, but it also empowered females, partially because they could enjoy sex solely for pleasure, and partially because women were more capable than ever of deciding when and if they wanted to become pregnant.
Once Gordon realizes that the child his wife is carrying is probably not his and that he has been disempowered in his role as both a husband as well as a sexual being, he becomes even more excited than when he thought that it was his own child. In fact, Gordon becomes the only person in all of Midwich to show a genuine, growing love for the children, growing even more enthused and optimistic as he witnesses the children’s development.
The figure of Gordon Zellaby is a troubling one, to say the least. Gordon replaces his wife’s role as a mother, and becomes a father-figure to the entire group of children in a way that acknowledges the fear of irresponsible males when it comes to children. These are not Gordon’s offspring, not even the child that his wife is the mother of, and yet Gordon functions as a sort of idealized, ultra-responsible male, regardless.
The role of the children in Village of the Damned is also troubling, as is the film’s presentation of what one would normally expect of a child. Even if children are typically considered “bad,” in the sense that they misbehave or act in delinquent ways, one usually gets a sense that they are still less powerful, both physically and authoritatively, than the adults around them. The children in Village of the Damned, however, are not only more developed and advanced than the adults around them, but they possess genuine control over these adults. In Midwich, it is the children who discipline the grownups. At the rate these children are growing, they will soon be able to reproduce as adults themselves.
Village of the Damned examines female angst in regards to the role of control and choice when bearing children, ironically by not giving the women in the film a choice in such matters. The children that result, then, can be seen as exaggeratedly evil in order to justify — and guiltily express — the decision to not want to bear offspring in the first place. Besides existing as the physical incarnation of a collective psychic guilt on the part of Midwich’s adults, the children remain isolated and constantly battling adults throughout the film. In this sense, these children are simply trying to survive in a time when bearing offspring is no longer a consequence, but a choice.
The ending of Village of the Damned, in which Gordon sees the only solution to stopping the children is to blow them up, and himself in the process, becomes a sort of abortion after the fact, in which scientific logic conquers God’s will (the communal immaculate conception that opens the film). That Gordon dies with the children also points to the awkward re-shuffling of gender roles that has taken place throughout the film, and Gordon’s own inability as a male to accept these changes. Having attempted to nurture the children, Gordon responds to his failings, and to his frustrations over the absence of a nurturing female presence, by reverting back to a state of primal panic, drawing (but never verbalizing) a hyperbolically macho conclusion: “If you won’t take care of these children, then I’ll take care of the situation.” Gordon’s beliefs reflect the outlook of the film as a whole, which subtly blames shifting female sexual priority for the outbreak of unwanted, unlovable children that take over Midwich, and nearly take over the world.
Jason Woloski / © 2005 notcoming.com
You guys normally have some interesting if idiosyncratic reviews on this site, especially about horror movies. But that has to be the single most insane review I’ve ever read in my life. To even believe that interpretation requires a deep ignorance of 20th century history and society.
“Village of the Damned” is a very simple allegory about the dangers of communist infiltration.
Perhaps it would help to remember that the story came from a novel called, “The Midwich Cuckoos”.
The cukoo is a bird that lays it eggs in other birds nests. The baby cukoo essentially takes over the nest often by pushing the parent bird’s real offspring out of the nest and to their death. The parent birds raise the cukoo as their own, but it is a false accomplishment. The biological point of their existance has been negated and destroyed.
If you remember the attempted brainwashing that occured through “youth clubs” in Hitler’s Germany or Soviet Russia or Mao’s China and that children were encouraged to inform on and denounce their parents, it all comes clear.
The whole rape/parentage element is a simple but deep pushing home of the same point. Afterall, children are the only part of ourselves that most people leave behind upon their death. The alien children or the “cuckoos”( or at the allegorical level,the triumph of communist ideology) make a mockery of all the parent’s hopes and dreams for their children and the future.
You’re welcome.
My “deep ignorance of 20th century history and society” has somehow led me to the awareness that in casting Communists as soulless, robotic ideologists, the rhetoric on the home front was to strengthen boundaries through an increased emphasis on domesticity. If the basic unit of priority in Communism was the State, then in the West, the nuclear family became the equivalent unit upon which civilization would be saved. The Women’s Liberation Movement and the re-organization of gender roles within that movement were a threat to the nuclear family, which in turn was a threat to the State in its fight against Communism. Who was going to take care of the children, if not women? And more to the point, if women stopped having children, who would there be to fight in the military? In all this, the implication was that Communist countries such as Russia and China were continuing to have children, creating resources for the future, while Western women were selfishly thinking only of themselves. Astute readers would consider issues of Western domesticity within established readings of Village of the Damned as an anti-Communist text.
But you seem to think of yourself as a superior reader because you’re willing to see less, not more in a text, and believe that being narrow, rather than broad minded is a virtue. Why such resistance to regarding a text as complex? I’ve always been under the impression that the best art can sustain multiple readings, and that truly lasting art can be judged by the number of readings it yields, often changing in meaning over time. You think the best readers must look for one correct reading, and in doing so, you reduce a text to that which makes you comfortable. But reading isn’t about telling others what to think, and it isn’t about authorizing one meaning to each work. Where would Film Studies – or any Humanities discipline for that matter – be if texts were about singular readings and authorized (definitive) decodings? Every time a new work came out, we’d have to form a committee, settle on one understanding of the work, and then be done with it. Film Studies courses would be run by giving multiple choice exams, where everyone would be forced to come up with the one correct summarizing sentence. Great art is defined by difficulty, and difficulty lends itself to complex understanding and inquiry, not looking for the one thing that sums everything up.
You’re welcome to disagree with my interpretation, but to say that this film offers only one definitive reading (a reading, by the way that’s been around for ages and can be considered an almost Cliff Notes interpretation of the film) is absurd. Nothing in your criticism suggests a disagreement with the substance of what I’m saying, but a disagreement with my right to say it at all. I disagree with people’s readings of texts all the time, but what I return to is the text. The text is the place where meaning can be teased out and disagreements can be struggled over. If you want to counter my review, why not find scenes that refute what I’m saying? Or, better yet, attempt to come up with an understanding that is collectively expansive? I stand by my reading of Village of the Damned, and while I’m sure the film bears this out, I’m also willing to hear other’s interpretations. But to say that I have no right to offer a new interpretation of Village of the Damned seems almost as scary as the film itself.
Directed by
Wolf Rilla
Source
Warner Bros. DVD
Features: 31 Days of Horror
Posted on
23 October 2005
Read
1167 times
Comments
2
rinseandspit
23 October 2005
8:43 AM