#horror analysis

[the-irreverend]

One of my favourite things about all three Nosferatu films is how there is such heavy emphasis on disease and plague, which is quite meaningful when you consider the history behind it.

You don't need to be a scholar to know that bubonic plague, which has always been a source of terror and destruction for the peoples of Europe even before and after it crafted its magnum opus with the Black Death, and in all three versions, you'll see imagery that calls back to these dark times.

From legions of rats crawling off ships to white crosses adorning infected houses and countless coffins being paraded down the streets. You even see this in Nosferatu's design as well as in the 1922 and 1979 films, Orlok had pointed ears and fangs on his front incisors rather than his canines, much like a rat! And in the 2024 film, his body is adorned with the symptoms of the illness.

And that's what makes Orlok stand out from other versions of Count Dracula (and such a memorable and terrifying character): he's more than just another embodiment of pure evil, he's the embodiment of a continent's greatest trauma!

[helruinboo]

A little theory about the word "freak" in The Freak Circus

Something I noticed while thinking about the story "The Freak Circus" is the constant use of the word freak.

The circus is even advertised as The Freak Circus of Horror.

But is something strange about that word...

There are actual literally monsters, biologically speaking. Yet the circus still uses that word, freak, instead something like monster, criature or simply say The Circus of Horror.

I think the word freak originally came from the Ringmaster. In the historical freak shows, the actors were called freaks to turn into spectacle rather than people.

So the Ringmaster may have used the word to minimize and control them.

Not monster. Just freaks.

After Columbina's death, the characters internalize that label.

Eating Columbina was the first step. Her eyes were pink. And the dolls we see in the circus are pink too, like the entire show has become a ritual of guilt.

The real Circus of Horror might not come to the monsters themselves. It might be the identity and guilt they feel.

The Ringmaster called freaks... And they started to believing it.

Even thought the Ringmaster is no longer present, the circus stille moves as he were there. Like a ghost...

But what do you think?

[shadowheartwolf2]

There is a massive difference between a Lovecraftian, psychological entity that invades your very thoughts and a giant, physical monster that you can just hit with things. ​The shift from the "Shadow Monster" (that cosmic, ethereal dread from Season 2) to a "Kaiju" in the finale definitely feels like it traded complexity for spectacle. The First Shadow—the bathroom scene with Patty is pure, distilled nightmare fuel because it's personal.

We went from a cosmic, ancient entity that "flays" the mind—a shadow that possessed Will, corrupted Billy, and literally molded Henry Creel into a monster—to a brainless Kaiju?

The true terror of the Mind Flayer was always its incorporeality. It wasn't something you could punch; it was a virus, a darkness that lived inside you. ​Remember the bathroom scene in The First Shadow? When the Mind Flayer tortures Henry by taking Patty’s form just to mock and break him? That is arguably the most horrific, gut-wrenching moment in the entire franchise. Why? Because it was cruel and intelligent. It knew exactly how to hurt him. ​By turning it into a giant physical beast in the final episode, the showrunners stripped away that "eldritch" mystery. It stopped being a god-like entity and just became another big CGI obstacle to overcome.

Even in Season 3, when it had a physical form, it worked better. The Meat Monster was built out of literal human remains—the body horror was visceral, disgusting, and felt like a perversion of life. It was a physical manifestation of a hive mind.

​The S5 Kaiju form felt hollow by comparison. It lacked the "threat of the unknown." When you give a cosmic horror a physical body that just roars and stomps, you nerf the stakes. You can't outrun a shadow in your mind, but you can definitely run away from a giant spider. The design itself looked good. And I might even be able to accept it if it weren't for the fact that it's the Mind Flayer.

The Mind Flayer was at its best when it was an architect of trauma, not just a wrecking ball. I wish we’d stayed with the "Shadow" that whispered in the dark rather than the "Monster" that stepped on buildings.

​

[robzombies-hotwife]

I'm watching Skinamarink again and I know it gets compared to the Babadook a lot because of how infrequently both monsters appear, the use of empty spaces, and the monsters as metaphors for trauma. I think the difference between Skinamarink and the Babadook is "where can you feel the monster lurking when you can't see it?"

For me, you can always feel The Babadook lingering just outside the frame in every shot it isn't visibly in. Whereas while watching Skinamarink, I get the creeping feeling that it's right there in frame the whole time, watching the kids and the viewer, but you just can't see it. It's crawling on the floor or inside the walls or lurking on the ceiling, totally invisible, and any scenes where it doesn't feel like that feel as if the camera itself is the monster's POV.

The Babadook isn't watching you back when you can't see it (because it's out of frame and not captured by the camera), while the Skinamarink most definitely IS.

[the-crooked-library]

Creative Lineage - Dracula, Orlok, and the others

Here's the thing: the relationship between Nosferatu and Dracula is incredibly interesting - especially considering that Nosferatu (1922) was based on Dracula the book (1897), and most subsequent visual adaptations of Dracula for some reason used aspects of that film as inspiration, instead of adapting the original novel directly. As a result, there have always been endless comparisons between the two; but, in light of our most recent Nosferatu (2024), I must expand on what I personally think is their most significant (in regards to both plot development and analysis) difference.

TL;DR: it's characters. The main source of divergences between Dracula and Nosferatu is that these stories consist of vastly dissimilar characters, stuck in relatively similar situations.

I could go into heavy detail, and I will - under the cut, for the sake of all our dashboards.

At first glance, the stories of Dracula and Nosferatu are almost identical. The beginning sections follow the same essential plot beats - a young, newlywed solicitor travels to a creepy castle in Eastern Europe to assist a reclusive Count in his immigration to the West. This Count is, in fact, a vampire (otherwise known as a nosferatu), and terrorizes the young man for weeks, before departing and leaving him imprisoned; the solicitor escapes, is rescued from the wilderness by a nunnery, and returns home - where the Count has already begun his murderous process of settling in.

Here, in my opinion, is where the similarities end.

The key to understanding Nosferatu is remembering that Orlok is not Dracula; Thomas is not Jonathan; Ellen is not Mina, and so forth; and despite the mutual inspirations that affect each film adaptation of either story, the characters never react to the plot as a viewer would expect, if their precursory experience has been limited to only one or the other version.

Naturally, there are reasons for the continued addition of Nosferatu elements to Dracula adaptations. The most prominent of them is that, quite simply, audiences enjoy a fated, dangerous, inadvisable monster romance. By and large, we are titillated by the taboo; and - without adapting Le Fanu's Carmilla (1872), or adding a vampiric element to an adaptation of Leroux's The Phantom of the Opera (1910), or expanding on the queer elements of Jonathan Harker's sojourn in Transylvania - the easiest piece of classic media to sample for this sort of theme is Nosferatu (1922).

The 1922 film was, in a sense, an adaptation of Bram Stoker's Dracula (at least, enough to get the creators sued by his estate). In its efforts to circumvent copyright laws, it plays fast and loose with Stoker's lore and characters, renaming the Harkers, the Count, and everyone else - and, crucially, adding an element of erotic fixation that the vampire develops upon seeing a portrait of his solicitor's young wife. While still overseas, he builds a psychic connection with the melancholy and sensitive Ellen; it is both horrifying and sensual, and ultimately what she uses to destroy him - sacrificing her own blood and life to keep him out of his coffin until cock-crow. Ellen dies, but the sunlight annihilates Count Orlok, and the ending is a bittersweet new dawn.

This fixated, possessive, murderous eroticism (first displayed in its currently recognizable form by Carmilla) has become a cornerstone of the vampire genre. Elements of it are recognizable even in relatively modern media like Interview with the Vampire, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Twilight, as well as numerous Dracula adaptations (of which the 1992 Coppola film might be the most well-known); it is even present in other, indirect offshoots like NBC's Hannibal TV series. It is, therefore, essential to note that these overtones did not exist in the same way in Dracula the novel; and the reason for that is, specifically, a difference in character.

Count Dracula, while dangerous, vampiric, and psychic, does not possess that same singular fascination with any given character in Stoker's book (save perhaps for Jonathan Harker, temporarily). He does drain Lucy night after night, and his method of killing, like with all vampires of his type, is allegorically sexual; but it isn't personal. She keeps receiving blood transfusions - effectively, refills!.. Other than her blood, he has little interest in her. He has companionship enough already - after all, he lives with three female vampires, who may be courtesans or wives, but are colloquially referred to as Vampire Brides; and, additionally, he maintains ongoing communication with some of the people and animals that live on his land. As such, when he does bite Jonathan's wife Mina, it is a practical decision - made in order to establish a potential spy in a group of people who appear to be intent on hunting him down.

Similarly, Mina herself - despite the usual characterization of her film portrayals, which are in many ways epitomized by Coppola's 1992 version - was not originally a vulnerable maiden. She is confident and educated, she has worked for a living as an educator prior to her marriage, and she knows how to use a typewriter as well as shorthand. She has no emotional connection to Dracula whatsoever beyond pure incandescent hatred; and, frankly, forcing her into any sort of romance with him is deeply inaccurate to her character - because Mina Harker is endlessly in love with her husband Jonathan.

They may be on the lower end of middle-class, but relatively stable and planning a life together - not only as husband and wife, but as solicitor and secretary, as well. It's as close to a power couple as a novel from the 1890s will approach.

This is not the case for Ellen Hutter, largely because her social circumstances are far more precarious.

Unlike Mina, she has been forcibly isolated for the majority of her life. In that, she is yet another in the line of tragic madwomen of the gothic genre - mostly due to her eccentricities and her psychic gift, which (as the Eggers version specifies) manifested early in her childhood and became socially inexcusable during her teenage years, much like any real-world form of neurodivergence. It is implied that she has been institutionalized at some point as a result; and even prior to that, her father kept her confined indoors and away from other people in efforts to control her.

This isolation is what originally leads to her connection with Orlok - who was woken from his centuries-long deathlike sleep when he heard her reaching out into the ether, begging for a friend. Then, later in her life, the same circumstances unfortunately have a direct effect on her relationship with her husband Thomas, too; while she is attached to him, she cannot ignore that she is also utterly dependent on him as her ticket to a stable life, as well as out from under her father's thumb. Again, unlike Mina, she has no marketable skills or opportunities outside of this marriage; and while Thomas never shames her for her past, he still pressures her to ignore and repress it. The manifestations of her psychic ability concern, then unsettle, then frighten him - and, ultimately, there is a transactional aspect to their union. Thomas expects himself to move ahead in the world, like his friend Friedrich; and Ellen is expected to eventually become normal. She is expected to become a happy, pretty wife and mother like Anna Harding - because, while Thomas cares for her and fully intends to provide for her, he refuses to actually understand her.

Furthermore, it must be noted that leaving her father's estate for her husband's house did not entirely save Ellen from her isolation. Unlike Mina, she has no real friends of her own. Her only friend in the 2024 film is Anna, her husband's best friend's wife; and in the 1922 original, even that tentative affection is unclear. As such, Orlok remains the only character that truly knows and accepts her as she is - which inevitably complicates their dynamic.

While Orlok is, by his own admission, incapable of a human love, he is overwhelmingly and exclusively obsessed with Ellen. Unlike Dracula, who even in death keeps the company of his women and his people, Orlok exists in utter solitude. Prior to his death, he was also heavily avoided due to his being in "covenant with the devil." The 2024 film especially makes it clear that Ellen's call, which woke him from his slumber, is exceptional; their connection is intensely personal, and it is as close to love as he can ever feel.

This aspect of the vampire's characterization fundamentally alters the context of his behaviour throughout the film. While Dracula moved to England in search of new hunting grounds and little else, Orlok goes to Germany specifically to find Ellen. By marrying Thomas Hutter, she broke the covenant she made with Orlok in her youth; thus, knowing that his claim has been infringed upon, the Count makes contact with Hutter's real estate law firm, summons him to the Carpathians, crosses the sea, and arrives to Wisborg as a physical manifestation of every dark urge and ability she has been attempting to repress. He torments her husband, tricks him into signing a marriage annulment, plagues the city, and murders the Hardings - all of it for her. She is his unique and all-consuming motivation. Again and again, he insists upon their covenant, reminding her that she has never truly belonged to the human world, and he is not incorrect in his assessment. Ellen's surrounding society infantilizes and binds her, often literally. She has nothing to lose by leaving it, except for her own sense of morality; and that is why Orlok, who represents her own abnormality, remains a beautiful, nightmarish temptation.

The other characters diverge from Stoker's just as much.

Thomas Hutter has little in common with Jonathan Harker beyond his choice in career and his time at a vampire's castle. Despite his careful attachment to his wife, he does not actually take her opinions into consideration when he plans their life - he prioritizes his social and financial advancements, which are of no interest to her, and which he sees as his duties to her and to himself; and, when she exhibits any of her unusual or melancholic traits, he does his best to try and move past them as quickly as possible. He does not experience the same attraction to the horror that she does; he cannot bring himself to understand it; and both in 1922 and in 2024, he is also largely oblivious to her eccentricities, gifting her flowers despite the fact that she does not like to see them picked and dying in a vase. That is a far cry from Jonathan - who knows his wife's love of train schedules, who is practicing shorthand with her, and who is willing to join her in cursed, godforsaken undeath when faced with the possibility of her turning. Ultimately, Thomas exists too firmly within the same societal constraints that Ellen abhors, and their relationship has none of the foundation that is unshakably shared by Jonathan and Mina.

At the same time, while the Anna is a parallel to Lucy, and her husband is a corresponding Arthur, the Hardings (once again) have no particular commonality with them. Their characterization remains undeveloped in the original 1922 film - and while Eggers does grant them some definition, it is still in no way similar to Stoker's.

Stoker's Lucy is a charming, cheerful, flirty, and a little coquettish young girl; she exists on the cusp of womanhood and marriage, and her pre-vampire arc revolves around her choice between three almost-equally delightful suitors. She adores and idolizes Mina, she is childishly excited about her future; and in these things, she is very different from Anna, who is already married, a mother of two with one on the way - and who does care for Ellen, but in a motherly, rather than girlish, fashion.

Her husband, too, is quite different from Arthur Holmwood.

In 2024, Friedrich Harding is - above all else - the film's personification of the trap that is patriarchy. He is the epitome of what a man is expected to be: a successful business owner with a pretty blonde wife and 2.5 kids (I thought Anna's pregnancy was very much on the nose. Quite literally, 2.5 kids!). He is generous, he cares for his family, and he is firmly Rational. On the surface, Harding appears to be an ideal made flesh; and as the film progresses, it becomes evident that this ideal is designed to crumble.

Much of Harding's rationality is heavily hypocritical. While he claims to be making all his decisions based on pure logic, Ellen's - an outsider's - perspective exposes the truth behind his motivations. He ignores her warnings because he does not like her and considers her impudent; he kicks his own sick best friend out of his house with only his similarly sick wife to care for him, because he is annoyed and unsettled by their references to the supernatural; he refuses to listen to Von Franz and ignores the danger his family is in, because he is frightened of losing them to something he cannot comprehend, rather than a mundane, potentially treatable illness. All of these decisions are emotional, rooted in his misogyny and closed-mindedness - and so, Harding loses his daughters, his wife, his unborn son, as well as the unflappable, rational facade he had been so carefully maintaining. He ends the film a wreckage of himself, having committed necrophilia with the corpse of his wife because he was emotionally, irrationally unable to let go of her even in death; he dies of the plague that came to Wisborg through his own ship yard, holding her in his arms. Even under the guise of benevolence, his patriarchal worldview undermines and fails him entirely. It is a terrible thrill to watch him fall apart, and the ruin that is left in his place is one of the most obvious illustrations of the story's principal themes.

The other characterizations follow a similar sort of pattern. Sievers, unlike Seward, has no romantic rivalry with Harding; and beyond a professional connection, they are not really friends. Von Franz is far less knowledgeable about vampires than Van Helsing - for the majority of the film, he is stumbling in the dark with the rest of the cast, only finding a way of destroying Orlok in Herr Knock's codex. Knock, too, is far less noble than Renfield - even though he is just as insane as his counterpart, he sees Ellen as an object to be traded for money and power, rather than a kind soul that he would die to protect.

(Quincey Morris, unfortunately, does not exist in Nosferatu. Murnau hadn't found a place for a cowboy in his production; consequently, Eggers could not, either.)

The point is, really, that while Dracula and Nosferatu share a common premise, a comparison between them cannot be made without acknowledging the glaring differences between their characters. For instance, even though Orlok's relationship with Ellen is toxic in the usual vampiric way - part sex, part horror, part possession, part liberation - Thomas is by no means a perfect partner for her, either, because he is not Jonathan Harker, and Ellen is not Mina. Similarly, Von Franz, Sievers, and Harding are not a brave vampire hunting team - they are all blind, each in their own specific way (Von Franz, lacking straightforward knowledge; Sievers, trusting Von Franz without question; Harding, unable to think outside of societal rules). Expecting them to react to their situation the same way as the cast of Dracula is an exercise in futility.

As such, if you do get the chance to see the film again, or if it merely plays in the darkness of your skull when you close your eyes - instead of fixating on the few surface-level similarities between two different vampires and the people they haunt, allow the story of Nosferatu to seduce you on its own terms. Whether it is 1922 or 2024, we, as viewers, deserve its living blood - rather than the shadow of its predecessor.

[homogrimoire]

Oh, so, saw Weapons, have thoughts about it, so spoilers below the read more!

So, first, an AMAZING horror movie. Great scares and atmosphere, plenty of eerie and creepy moments, wonderful use of foreshadowing, good soundtrack, very human characters, and its imagery leaves lots of room for interpretations. The movie plays itself as a mostly grounded mystery, with dreams in the earlier acts hinting to the supernatural factor in the movie, the principal's attack making the supernatural more real, putting it in the light rather than 2:17 at night, and then unveiling it as the child's "aunt" to usher in the last act.

Starting with the horror itself, it's great. The tension is SOLID and makes everything from the jump scares to the quiet creepy moments hit good. The scene when the teacher falls asleep in her car across the child's house and the kid's mother does that same unsettling run the children did to her car. Stands in front of it, looks at her, and goes off screen, unlocks the backseat door, gets in, brings scissors to her face, and... cuts a piece of hair. So creepy. The whole theater gasped during this scene. Another scene: the addict catches a glimpse of the "aunt" with her bright orange wig against the green forestry. He runs to his tent, fearfully, and it slowly unzips to reveal the police officer who was chasing him. Point is, the movie used tension for effective scares really well. None of them feel particularly cheap because of the tension.

The other horrors of the movie are also well done. The image of an empty class save for a lone child and his teacher is haunting. The weaponized under the aunt-witch's control under her complete control is skin crawling to think about. If they talk, it is monotone and lifeless. They are motionless unless she needs them to move. The Child's parents stab themselves in their faces with a fork, leaving bloodied holes, at her will, and stop at her will. She said she could even make them eat each other if so desired. Told the Child so herself. The children stand motionless in the basement, neat and evenly spaced. The principal stood motionless, until ordered to kill his partner and then track down the teacher across the town to kill her too. The depiction of the loss of autonomy is just, eugh... Makes my skin crawl. Loss of autonomy always gets me, I don't like to see it, it breaks my heart I hate it. The thing that really sells it though and makes it sickening? The Child, he still needs to feed them. The aunt-witch won't do it, and can't/won't make them feed themselves. So this little boy buys cans of soup, and feeds them all, spoon by spoon, lifting utensils to their mouths, and all the weaponized can do is try to sloppily slurp it up. I just hope that for the weaponized's sakes that in this state, they're more like automatons rather than people alive and awake and unable to control their own body. The latter is the kinda thing that makes me sick. So, great on the horror movie for getting under my skin 👍

Then there's the witch, the big baddie of the film, hinted at through dreams and brief appearances that the eyes can't trust. She always stands out with her bright orange wig and bright lipstick and eyeshadow against caked on, pasty and pale foundation. It gives the image of a clown, like pennywise, befitting of her targeting the swath of children for this film. Before we see her in her entirety for the first time, we see the bright orange wig we've caught glimpses of prior through frosted glass, blurred before entering the Principal's office and she shows up with a dramatic but cheery personality. She talks fast and polite, but leaves little room for another's words. It shows that she is an effective manipulator in getting what she wants. She was able to find out where the principal live and get personal items of his to initiate the ritual of control over him. She uses her perceived kindness and frailty as an older woman to further help her get what she desires. Makes her a wholly unreconcilable villain. How her magic works is largely unexplained, which k can respect. Leaving some mystery is fine. All we know is that for the spell of control, at bare minimum she needs a stick from her magic tree, her own blood, and item belongings to who she wants to control, a bowl of water, and the hair of someone she wants dead. The Child was also able to replicate this spell to gain control over the other children to kill the aunt-witch, showing us the real power of this spell lies not with her, but the small thorned tree in her possession. However, left unexplained is how exactly the spell of control also ties into keeping her alive. The Witch calls herself "sick." She had explained to the Child that she thought his parents would help her, implying to us that she intended to use their life force to extend hers, or something along those lines, and was using the Child's classmates for the same intentions. That also brings into question is she was actually the child's aunt, or just a witch that has lived for many years, tricking families over many years by some means into thinking she was their family and stealing their life force to extend hers. Imagine, this woman by some magical means, tricks you into thinking she's family, and turns you into marionette automatons and steals your life force, and there's nothing you can do about it. Bleak. And it's possible she's done this many times. Depressing.

Last main paragraph on the horror, the loss of the children is just plain sad and creepy. 18 (I think, give or take a kid or two), gone in the middle of the night, the only evidence of what might've happened to them the grainy camera footage of them running in the dead of night. And also horrifying, the ostracization of the Teacher. Her children, all but one gone, and people, her community, blame her even though she cared for them too. Not horror in any extravagating way, but a real horror all the same. Isolated, hated, lied about, feared, unable to return to her job. Us humans are social animals. These things are like death in all but physicality.

Now, the thing I REALLY love about the movie is the foreshadowing. The Witch is hinted at more explicitly in the Teacher and the Father of one of the missing children's dreams. In the Teacher's dream, it was 2:17 at night, and she was in her classroom. All the children had their heads down. Then, the Child lifted his head, revealing the Witch's pale face. In the Father's dream, he found his son in his home again, except when he turned away and looked at him again, he saw the witch's face and bright wig. Later, when running from the Cop, the Addict sees her head staring at him in the forest. This all leads up to her reveal in her meeting with the Principal. [Side note, what's interesting is why they all saw her. At the time any of them caught a glimpse of her, she had no reason to concern herself with any of them. She had yet to meet any of them, and had yet to pose a direct threat to her. Was this all calls for help from the Weaponized children? Was it fate calling out to them? Warning them? A side effect of the witch using her spells? We can't know, or at least, I can't tell. Though it doesn't particularly matter what the reason was, or even if there was a reason. It made for great foreshadowing.]

Also amazing but small foreshadowing was the Father using bright orange-red paint to write WITCH on the Teacher's car. A complete coincidence on his part, but subtly references the witch's wig. (If I'm remembering correctly, red hair/red-orange, was frequently associated with witches, which is probably why the Witch's wig is that same color.)

Last foreshadowing is the paralleling of the Witch to a parasite, supporting the idea that she was stealing the life force of the Child's parents and the other Weaponized. [weaponized being anyone under her control, sorry I didn't explain this earlier lol. I call them weaponized because of a comment the Father made in the movie and the fact they can be used to hunt someone down] In school, we see the Teacher teaching the children about parasites, asking for examples and getting tapeworm as one answer, and before placing the principal under her control, he and his partner were watching a documentary about parasites, specifically one about the cordyceps that hijacks an ant's body. With this analogy, it's actually pretty clear she's a parasite, feeding off the energy and life of her host, like a tapeworm. However, I will not ignore the inclusion of the cordyceps either. Its full control can be likened to the spell of control the witch uses, taking away autonomy. That begs the question, however, what does the parasite, the Witch, aim to reproduce? All animals live to reproduce, the cordyceps notably take control of an ant in order to reproduce. The black bile/fluid the principal spewed when killing his partner may have some connection to this, perhaps akin to how evil dead's deadites spew black bile to corrupt others and turn them into deadites. When the Cop was killed, the pool of blood around his body and neck where he was shot was also oddly dark, perhaps just the blood, or blood mixed with the black fluid. Whatever the case, in the context of this movie alone, all that can be definitively gleaned and this black fluid is showcasing evil and wicked influence. [Perhaps it is something that would be expanded upon in another film. Proliferation/reproduction are not alone in this film with the cordyceps. The cop and his wife were talking on the phone about trying to conceive, and the cop and the teacher had a short drunk sex scene, so the black liquid and the witch potentially having some connection to proliferation is not out of the blue.]

Next up in the movie, the imagery, also wonderful and rich. There's all sorts of wonderful shots in the movie, but I want to focus on two. First, the thorned tree the Witch used. Thorns represent strength and resilience in all its forms, mental, physical, and emotional, and to grow in these means and to have self-reliance. It represents the perseverance of these things, and the protection of things cherished and of life. The thorns the Witch used serve as an inversion to these concepts. It takes away another's self reliance, reduces vitality in all its forms to nothing, makes people into living things that don't live that only serve to give another their life without their consent, and to be used as weapons to go on the offensive and take more life.

Second, the assault rifle in the Father's dream. In his dream, the Father awakes in his son's bed, and sees him leaving the room. He follows his child outside into greenery, and after exiting the growth, finds himself in front of his house again. Only this time, floating above it is a large assault rifle, ominous like a UFO, the time the children disappeared flashing on it before the gun disappears. While this doesn't foreshadow the fact that the spell of control can be used to weaponized people into a hit man, I believe it is also supposed to invoke the imagery associated with gun violence against children here in America. Considering this is an American movie and takes place in America, this isn't coincidental. Whether by an assault rifle that has no place in suburbia, or a supernatural witch, the outcome was the same: parents left without their child, a community left stunned, angry, saddened, forced to continue with their lives while the police remained useless. Which, brings me to my last point:

The messages. That single image of the assault rifle, floating in the sky for a few moments, solidifies this film as a commentary on police negligence and brutality in America. One of our focal characters is the Cop, a friend of the Teacher, and partner to the chief's daughter. In his section of the film, he chases down the drug Addict when he sees him attempting to break into a building. He catches him, and accidentally stabs himself with a used drug needle the addict forgot about in his pocket, making the cop lose his cool and punch the addict. Knowing he messed up, he disconnected the car dash cam that caught the punch, and released the addict with a warning/threat. Back at the station, he and the chief agree to not to do anything and hope nothing gets noticed. A perfect example of corruption and how police protect themselves and one another rather than uphold the law and obey the rules imposed upon them to maintain the rights of the people in this country.

Their negligence and uselessness is emphasized when the Father went to the chief, asking for an update, anything, just to be assured their detectives and feds were doing everything in their power to find leads and information. Yet, it was the Father by himself that discovered in less than a day where the children ran to using only his ring camera, one other victim's ring camera, a town map, and some of his tools from his construction work. In one day, he found a solid lead, when paid, professional police detectives had turned up nothing for weeks.

So, police suck. Good message to have. [I say this genuinely. Our police force is here only to protect capital, not the people.] So then, what does our witch represent? Potentially, she can represent the disabled, chronically ill, anyone who requires the care and attention of others to get by in life. This can be analogous to how as the aforementioned people require assistance from society, the witch needed to steal the life force of the weaponized to live, effectively conveying that the old, weak, and ill are parasites unto society.

However, this is one interpretation, whether intentional or not. Sometimes, an evil witch is an evil witch. And sometimes, that evil witch can represent the same thing gun violence and school shootings can. The witch, like the assault rifle and gun violence against children in America, represents/is the result of apathy, hatred, cruelty, enjoyment in the simple act of taking of life. The old witch can represent the gerontocracy, the old people who lead our government who have no regard for the people beneath them, younger than them, who only seek to use them for their own gain. With the taking of a live through the power she alone held, she divided and tore asunder a community, dividing it, allowing her to take what she wanted unnoticed. Or at least, almost unnoticed.

Take your pick or both, both interpretations are valid, though, I feel the latter is the intended interpretation. Regardless, the fact the former can be interpreted is of concern to me considering our current political climate and an almost dumbfounding growing admiration for Nazi ideology, wherein disabled, old, and terribly sick people were killed for not being perceived as productive members of society. Another thing I'm not a fan of is the fact that the principal and his partner, who was also a man, got the goriest deaths, alongside the witch herself having a hilarious but gorey death. While I understand this was most certainly written and filmed before trump became president, violently killing the only gay characters doesn't sit well with me. Again, it's probably just the timing, the kairos. If my government and others weren't sliding to the right, I probably wouldn't mind their violent deaths so much. Hell, I'd probably even praise it for being so violent then. It's not like they're the only deaths either. The Witch gets torn asunder by the children, and the Addict and Cop are shot after being weaponized. The latter two deaths are thus comparatively tame, visually anyhow. As it stands, their terrible violent deaths don't sit right with me, but perhaps that's the point too. They're just a normal, happy couple relaxing together. What happened to them should make someone feel unsettled and saddened and disgusted and angry.

And to end on some positives, the characters and acting is great. The cop and teacher are different from the usual protagonists who are quite agreeable and without much flaw. The teacher is very caring, shown by her dedication to the children and concern for the Child. However, she drinks, a bit too much, coerced the cop who was a recovering alcoholic to drink with her, which resulted in them fucking even though she knew he had a girlfriend. It's implied it's possible she was involved in an affair in her prior teaching job as well. The cop, cared to find the children, recovering alcoholic, so trying to better himself, friends with the teacher. Though, seems to hate his girlfriend and detest their attempts to conceive, which he should've voiced but this is besides the point, and again, he's a cop. The Father, reasonably angry and takes it out on the teacher, but comes around when he saves her from being killed by the weaponized principal. Point is, they're all very realistic people. We don't get a whole lot about every single one of them, but we don't need to get their whole back stories or whatever. We get enough to make them compelling characters within this story, and that's good. The movie also does sprinkle in some comedy here and there, and does it well and used it at just the right amount at the right times. Helps cut through the heaviness and definitely helps make the film more enjoyable. Also, good music, good lighting, go watch it xoxo

[ab0g1arka]

Cashier Girl — A Deep Dive into Trauma, Identity, and Fear in No, I’m Not a Human

So, I’ve been thinking about the Cashier Girl from No, I’m Not a Human, and honestly… she’s one of the most heartbreaking, fascinating, and psychologically layered characters in the entire game. Like, on the surface, she might just seem like another Visitor you have to deal with, but when you dig into her story, her personality, and her actions, it’s clear she’s way more than that. She’s tragic, terrifying, fragile, and, honestly, painfully relatable in a lot of ways.

⸻

✅ Confirmed Facts About Her

Let’s start with what we actually know from the game and official sources:

• She is a Visitor in every playthrough. She’s not sometimes human or sometimes Visitor — she’s always a Visitor.

• She can hardly remember anything about her past, but she does remember fragments.

• She used to work as a cashier, but says she was fired because her co-workers were scared of her appearance.

• She questions whether “not being like others” is enough to be rejected by society.

• Her house was raided by a group of men (Visitors), and she could not save her roommate from what happened. She was assaulted by two of the men but managed to flee. She can’t remember much after that moment.

• She eventually ends up at the Protagonist’s doorstep, trying to escape Visitors and the dangers of the Sun, although she herself doesn’t burn from it.

• Appearance: short red bob haircut, small body, disproportionately large right shoulder, barefoot, plain blue T-shirt and brown pants. Her face is meek, afraid, constantly on edge.

• Personality: deeply fearful, paranoid, polite when interacting with the Protagonist, prone to panic over apocalyptic or death-related topics, prays to God for protection. She is obsessed with the fear that a Visitor could be anyone — even herself.

• Room/location: sits in the corner of the Closet if allowed into the house. Depending on the version, she may share the room with the Homeless Man or the Surgeon.

These are the hard facts. But just listing them doesn’t even begin to capture how emotionally rich her character is.

⸻

🎯 Interpretation: What’s Really Going On Under the Surface

Self-Esteem and Appearance

Being fired from her cashier job because people were scared of her “look” is such a tiny event on the surface, but symbolically it says everything about how she sees herself. She internalizes this rejection: “I’m not like others. I’m dangerous or abnormal. That’s why people leave me.” Her body itself — disproportionate shoulder, tiny frame, awkward posture — makes her look marked as other. She carries this rejection with her everywhere, which fuels her paranoia, fear, and hyper-awareness of everyone around her.

The game highlights that she’s constantly aware of how others perceive her. Her self-esteem issues aren’t just personal—they’re existential. She fears banishment, the kind that comes from society rejecting her for being different. It’s tragic because it’s not just “I’m sad I was fired”; it’s “I am fundamentally unsafe in a world that judges appearances.”

⸻

Trauma and Memory Loss

The events of her past are horrific. Her house was raided, her roommate was lost, and she herself was assaulted. She only remembers fleeing when one of the men went to the fridge — a mundane, almost absurd trigger that allowed her survival. What comes after? She can’t recall. Her memory loss is a survival mechanism, but it also strips her of identity and continuity.

• This makes her fearful and fragile in every interaction. She’s projecting her personal trauma onto the world: the apocalypse, Visitors, death. She’s always on edge because she literally cannot tell who or what is a threat — or who she herself might be.

• Her memory gaps + trauma = existential anxiety. She’s not just scared of the Visitors, she’s scared of herself. That’s some real horror writing right there.

⸻

Human vs Visitor Crisis

One of the most fascinating aspects of her character is her struggle with identity. She wants to be human. She asks the Protagonist: “Do you think I’m human?” But the truth creeps in: the memory gaps, the fear, the trauma — they’re signs that maybe she isn’t.

• She’s always a Visitor, which is confirmed by the game. Her denial is significant. She’s clinging to humanity, trying to stay anchored to what she knows is safe, even as everything around her screams she is marked as other.

• This denial makes her tragic. She’s caught between what she wants to be and what she is, and the tension drives much of her paranoia and panic.

⸻

Paranoia and Fear

Her personality is hyper-alert and cautious. She’s polite when treated kindly, but her mind is always scanning for danger. She chants about the world ending, worries that a Visitor could be anyone (even herself), and prays for protection.

• This isn’t just horror trope paranoia — it’s a psychological portrait of someone whose past trauma and social rejection have left her unable to trust anyone, including herself.

• She literally embodies the fear of being “othered” to the extreme: her survival depends on constant vigilance and fear, and that fear consumes her sanity.

⸻

Moral Complexity

Gameplay-wise, letting her stay is… complicated. She may lead to deaths of other Guests if left unchecked. But she’s not evil — she’s a scared, traumatized person navigating a cruel, indifferent world. This ambiguity is brilliant because it forces the player to ask: What do we do for someone who is dangerous but also a victim?

• She’s not a black-and-white villain; she’s a mirror for humanity’s moral struggles.

• The Protagonist’s choices — whether to trust, protect, or confront her — become ethical puzzles, not just survival mechanics.

Now the juicy part: what all those details might symbolise, especially in relation to her internal state (self‑esteem, trauma, identity) and the game’s themes. These are not confirmed by the game explicitly, but they feel intentionally meaningful given the character.

Red Hair

• Red is a bold colour. It draws attention. In a character who is anxious about being “different” or “not like others,” the red hair might symbolise exactly that — a visible marker of “otherness.”

• At the same time, red can symbolise danger, trauma, or a kind of wounded energy. Her past (being assaulted, fleeing, being rejected) is violent and traumatic; the red could reflect that internal pain.

• Because her hair is short and bobbed (which often suggests a lack of luxury, or a practical cut rather than styled glamour), the red hair plus plain cut suggests a mix of visibility (red) but also austerity (plain style) — that tension could mirror her visibility to others and her desire to stay unnoticed.

Blue T‑Shirt

• Blue often represents calm, stability, trust, or sadness/depression. Given her emotional state (paranoid, fearful, anxious) it may hint at the sadness side of blue.

• The fact that the shirt is plain emphasises simplicity, perhaps scarcity: she’s not dressed up or adorned; the ordinary plain blue T‑shirt suggests vulnerability, a lack of protective armour.

• The contrast between the calm (blue) and her anxious posture/fear might show a dissonance: she wants calm/stability, but she’s far from it.

Brown Pants & Bare Feet

• Brown is an earthy, grounded colour; it suggests stability, the “everyday,” perhaps humility or being down‑to‑earth. Here, it may contrast with her trauma and otherness: she’s in plain clothes, trying to blend in, but the disproportionate shoulder and red hair make her stand out.

• Being barefoot is a strong visual cue: it suggests vulnerability, exposure, being unprotected. In horror imagery, bare feet often mean “not safe”, “not fully in control.” For her, bare feet could reflect her escape (she fled), her stripping off of previous identity, or her current fragility.

Disproportionate Right Shoulder

• This is the most “monstrous” or uncanny detail in her design (confirmed). A bodily distortion immediately signals “something is wrong.” It undermines her small body’s symmetry, making her seem off‑balance, both literally and figuratively.

• Symbolically: her past is unbalanced, her sense of self is wounded. The body and the mind are out of harmony. The disproportionate shoulder could represent the burden she carries (trauma, rejection, fear) physically manifesting.

• In terms of “not being human” theme: The body’s distortion subtly tells us she is not just “another scared person” but marked, changed, maybe broken.

🏠 Room Placement

• Corner of the Closet: If she’s allowed into the house, she sits in the corner of the Closet. This is really telling. Closets are usually small, hidden spaces — places of retreat, hiding, or confinement. The fact that she chooses the corner shows her desire to shrink away, avoid being seen, and protect herself. It mirrors her personality: fearful, paranoid, and traumatized.

• Shared spaces: In some versions (Violent Horror Stories anthology and full release), she shares a room with Surgeon, and in the release version, she shares with the Homeless Man. In the 2025 demo, she occupies the room alone.

• Sharing with others could symbolize her dependency on others for survival or validation. She’s never fully independent emotionally; her trauma ties her to other survivors.

• Being alone (2025 demo) emphasizes isolation, her fragile mental state, and perhaps her alienation from society, which ties into her “not like others” theme.

🎨 Sprites and Inspirations

• Sprite pose from Doctor Daniel Jackson (Stargate SG-1): Her posture comes from a character locked in a padded cell. This immediately communicates vulnerability and fear, a trapped state — visually reinforcing her trauma and paranoia.

• All Visitor signs perfectly matching: She is consistent in being a Visitor — meaning the game fully intends her to embody the “other” that is not human, which deepens her identity crisis.

• Twisted posture + constantly open mouth + bobbed haircut resembles Ina Jane Doe / Susan Lund: This resemblance is accidental but visually impactful. The open mouth and twisted posture suggest suffering, trauma, and otherworldliness — she appears permanently frozen in fear or pain.

• Resemblance to young Yennefer (pre-transformation): This is fascinating because Yennefer’s early story involves vulnerability, rejection for physical difference, and eventual transformation. Cashier Girl reflects a pre-transformation Yennefer: fragile, rejected, anxious — a visual symbol of “what could have been” if circumstances were different.

1. Being “other” and judged for it

Her story as a cashier who got fired because coworkers were scared of her shows that she’s basically the ultimate outsider. She’s physically marked (red hair, disproportionate shoulder, meek face) and that marks her in society too. The game uses her to ask: what happens to people who don’t fit in? She’s literally a visual and narrative example of someone punished just for being different. That’s why she’s so paranoid and afraid — she’s spent her life being rejected.

2. Trauma and fear of the world

Her house being raided and assault by the Visitors is a huge, life-changing trauma. She runs away, she can’t fully remember what happened, and now she’s constantly anxious that anything or anyone could be dangerous. The story uses her to show how trauma changes people: she’s fragile, she’s cautious, and she doesn’t trust herself or others. Basically, she’s living in the aftermath of a horrible event, which makes her story feel real and relatable in a horror context.

3. The human vs Visitor question

She’s always technically a Visitor, but she desperately wants to be human. She asks the protagonist if he thinks she’s human. That tension is the core of her role in the story: the game wants us to confront ideas of identity and belonging. It’s like, she’s trying to cling to a normal life, but she’s marked as different in every possible way. She represents people who feel like they don’t belong and the struggle to accept yourself when everyone else might reject you.

4. Morality and choice for the protagonist

Keeping her in the house isn’t just about her. She can kill other Guests, so the player has to decide: do I protect her even if it risks others? Her presence tests morality in the story. She’s not evil; she’s scared and fragile. But her survival comes at a cost, which makes the player think about how we treat people who are broken or “othered” in real life — do we help them, do we push them away, or do we let fear dictate our choices?

5. Representation of fragility and self-esteem issues

On a more symbolic level, her design, her posture, her clothes, even her bare feet — everything screams vulnerability. Coupled with her story of rejection and trauma, she’s a kind of “visual metaphor” for people with low self-esteem and self-doubt. She constantly questions herself, fears judgment, and wants acceptance. That makes her tragic but also relatable; she’s a human (or half-human) reflection of what it’s like to live with anxiety and self-consciousness, even in a horror game.