The prospect
of juxtaposing the physical and emotional complexities of
puberty and blossoming ( predominantly female) sexuality with
the generic conventions of horror seemed both appealing and
highly original. However the best intentions must, of course,
be substantiated with effective filmic results, and "Ginger
Snaps" fails to deliver on even its most basic promises.
The plot
surrounds two sisters; the elder Ginger (Catherine Isabelle)
and younger Bridgett (Emily Perkins), self-styled social outcasts
who indulge in creating elaborately gory ways to fake their
own respective deaths. Galvanised against peers and parents
alike, Ginger and Brigitte vow to stand firm against a world
that, in the best traditions of cliched Hollywood marginalisation
(where high school outsiders are invariably just beautiful
people wearing thick rimmed glasses and their hair tied up),
ostracises them.
However
their self-imposed social exile to the sanctity of the teenage
bedroom is ended after Ginger is attacked one night by a mysterious
lupine assailant. She subsequently begins to go through "changes",
which begin as those encountered by all teenage girls, but
quickly spiral uncontrollably into malevolent (yet highly
amusing) physical and mental transformations (I mean how many
teenage girls do you know with a tail?).
The close
relationship of the sisters is tested. Ginger's social and
sexual allure increases in the eyes of her classmates, and
her elevating popularity (in the light of the metamorphosis
taking place beneath the surface) alarms Brigitte. The closeness
of the relationship between the two sisters, and its eventual
breakdown which reaches a climax in the final scene where
a fully transformed Ginger attempts to kill her sister in
a animalistic frenzy, is perhaps the most successfully handled
concept in the film. The alliances, rivalries and jealousies
that inform all sibling relationships are handled well by
the director John Fawcett. Similarly, the overbearing, "smother-them-with-love"
approach of the girls' mother (Mimi Rogers) and the disenfranchised
masculinity of their father (Peter Keleghan) work well together.
"Ginger
Snaps" slips in and out of genres without fully exploring
or indulging the finer aspects of them. It simply takes the
most obvious, hackneyed and over used dimensions of the teen
movie (outsiders versus the socially accepted, jocks, cheerleaders
and goths
) and the horror movie (small town suburbia
harbouring a dark secret in the form of a sociopathic monster
emerging from the family home etc., etc.) and goes no further.
No serious
attempt has been made to fuse together elements of these specific
genres into an original mix, indeed the film is thoroughly
conventional, and run-of-the-mill. Its veiled pretensions
about showing the adolescent female body as a battle ground
that acts as an allegory for sexual awakening mixed with violence,
was more effectively explored in De Palma's "Carrie".
The plot is nothing more than a patchwork quilt of past glories,
filtered through Fawcett's undoubted appreciation for all
things horror. The effects are on the whole pretty lame and
the whole affair has a definite feel of irritating repetition
and re-visitation.
The central
performances are acceptable in the most part. Perkins particularly
shines as a genuinely uncomfortable and awkward teenager,
threatened (in every sense) by the growing ferocity of her
sister.
However the general feeling after watching "Ginger Snaps"
is one of loss and unsatisfaction. A film that could deliver
so much to reinvigorate aspects of the flagging horror genre
through clever allegory simply reverts back to tried and tested
conventions, that have been more successfully realised elsewhere.
"Ginger Snaps" finally represents nothing more than
an overwhelming example of missed opportunity.
Nik Huggins
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