Tag Archives: Lucky McKee

‘May’ Is a Grotesque Plea for Kindness

It’s October! That means it’s time to discuss one of my favorite Halloween Uterus Horror films, May. Released back in 2002, May was only the second feature film of writer and director Lucky McKee (The Woman, All Cheerleaders Die). As with many entries in this subgenre, the film didn’t have great box office success despite getting a fair amount of critical praise. Despite this, May is certainly one of McKee’s most iconic films, and it has garnered a cult following of devoted fans over the years. 

The film centers on a young woman named May (Angela Bettis). May suffers from a lazy eye. As a child, she was forced to wear an eye patch to try and fix it, which led to her being ostracized by her peers. Her only “friend” is a doll she got as a gift from her mother (Merle Kennedy) as a child. The day she received the doll, May’s mother told her, “If you can’t find a friend, make one.” And yet, the doll was too perfect and too special to play with, so since her childhood May has kept the doll safely in a glass case.

As an adult, May’s situation hasn’t changed all that much. She now has glasses that help fix her lazy eye and is getting contacts that will do the same; she also has a job working as a veterinary assistant. Inside, though, she’s still the same lonely girl. Despite her age, it’s apparent she has lived a very sheltered, lonely life with no close friends or significant others, except of course her doll. However, everything changes for May when she first sets eyes on Adam (Jeremy Sisto), a local mechanic. Seemingly the first person May has been interested in, she becomes fixated on Adam, but more specifically his hands. After a couple of dates, Adam decides May is too weird for him and ghosts her. This is only the beginning of May’s downward spiral.

With every social interaction she has, it becomes more and more apparent that May isn’t great with people. She didn’t gain social skills most children do because she was an outsider. May’s mother wasn’t much help in that department either, giving her a doll instead of helping her find ways to make real friends to play with. Now, all grown up, May constantly turns inward when around people. She’s shy and awkward, but seeing Adam makes May want to be more social. Her desire forces her to try and be more outgoing, venturing outside her comfort zone just to get to know a guy. One can imagine how much effort it would take to put yourself out there, which means it hits May even harder when Adam thinks she’s a weirdo – a freak – and he wants nothing to do with her.

May quickly experiences her next bit of heartbreak. The receptionist at the vet, Polly (Anna Faris), has a flirtation with May. This time, May is trying to find human connection while also exploring her sexuality. Polly seems receptive to May’s eccentricities, but not long after sharing a kiss, Polly moves on to another woman. After that, May comes close to befriending a strange punk kid (James Duval) at the bus stop, but when he finds an unfortunate surprise in her freezer, he wants nothing to do with her. May is already a late bloomer, both in terms of social interactions and sexuality. She doesn’t have the years of love and friendships and heartbreaks that help a person mentally process these kinds of rejections. Meeting Adam and being rejected by him throws May into a state of turmoil, leading her to experiment with her sexuality, desperately trying to find human connection, and eventually turning to drastic measures just to feel seen.

Among the many things May learned from her mother, the most impactful seems to be the importance of beauty and perfection. Even when May was a child, her mother told her to hide the eyepatch under her hair if May wanted to make friends. This is why the doll is a great representation of the “values” instilled in May. Beauty is what gives a person value, and perfection is something to strive for above all else. 

As May begins to try to connect with other people, she always fixates on one part of the person’s body: Adam’s hands, Polly’s neck, and Polly’s new girlfriend’s legs – even the punk kid’s arms – all catch May’s eye. Each person has one perfect piece, but the whole has flaws. Like mother used to say, “If you can’t find a friend, make one.” Between the constant rejection and the life lessons from her mother, it’s no wonder May takes those teachings a bit too literally. 

On Halloween night, May dresses up in a homemade costume that makes her look just like her beloved doll. She then visits each person who has rejected her to collect her favorite piece of them. Upon returning home, she uses her sewing skills to assemble all the pieces into a perfect whole, but upon admiring her work May realizes her new friend can’t see her. May sacrifices one of her own eyes for the friend. She’s finally created the perfect companion and the only friend she’ll ever need.

Many viewers who watch May will empathize with the titular character. Between children being cruel, and the life lessons provided by her mother, it’s easy to see how May would end up as such a shy and socially inept adult. She clearly has no idea how to navigate human interactions, and it’s largely because she missed most of the important social milestones. Her sheltered existence means she doesn’t know how to process rejection or heartache; she doesn’t understand what’s socially appropriate, and she doesn’t even understand her own sexuality. All May wants is a friend, and after years of having no one but her doll, it’s no wonder the extreme lengths she was willing to go to for a sense of companionship. 

McKee crafts a truly haunted piece of Uterus Horror with May. This intimate look into the mind of a fragile woman is compelling as is, but adding the horrors of dismembering people to collect their best parts, only to reassemble them into a perfect composite, is a disturbing way to emphasize her fractured state of mind. It’s obviously an extreme case, but May’s desire to be seen and loved is one most people can relate to on some level. It’s a cautionary tale not just for parents trying to raise caring, capable individuals, but it’s also a great reminder to be kind to those you interact with. You never know what they’re going through, or what they’re capable of.

‘The Woods’ Is a Unique Spin on Folklore Horror

At first glance, Lucky McKee’s The Woods is your standard folklore narrative. A young girl is thrust into an old-world mystery, facing supernatural forces that blur the line between reality and myth. But what The Woods brings to the table is a fresh perspective that revives age-old myths for a modern audience, making the old seem intriguing and new.

Set in 1965, The Woods follows Heather (Agnes Bruckner), a troubled teenager sent to all-girls boarding school Falburn Academy under the watchful eye of Ms. Traverse (Patricia Clarkson). But when Heather begins experiencing nightmares and hearing voices from the surrounding woods, she sets out to uncover the school’s dark history. As students disappear one by one, Heather uncovers the truth about Falburn: the school is home to a coven of witches.

Intrigued by Heather’s strength and defiance, Ms. Traverse holds one-on-one classes to test Heather’s endurance and obedience. In these sessions, Heather is forced to complete bizarre rituals designed to break her will, including drinking milk laced with a substance that clouds her judgement. Through these manipulative rituals, the witches bend Heather’s will to their own, eroding her sense of self and pushing her to the brink of exhaustion. 

As the rituals grow more intense, Heather soon realizes she’s the key to the witches’ plan. Her resilience makes her the perfect candidate for a ritual to increase the coven’s power and secure their immortality. Determined not to fall victim to their ritual, Heather battles through the psychological torment to expose the witches’ plan and break their hold over the academy. By turning the coven’s magic against them, Heather reclaims her identity and frees the other girls from their sinister influence. 

On the surface, The Woods follows a similar premise as other films in the subgenre, most notably Dario Argento’s Suspiria. However, while films in the folklore subgenre typically immerse themselves in traditional depictions, The Woods explores pagan practices against the backdrop of psychological manipulation.

Witchcraft is often depicted through a classic coven structure steeped in ancient lore. Suspiria is deeply rooted in the myth of the Three Mothers: powerful, ancient witches who embody sorrow, tears, and darkness. The idea is drawn from Thomas De Quincey, an 18th-century essayist. He proposed that, just as there are three graces and three fates, there should also be three sorrows who would bring death wherever they go. 

Dario Argento expanded on De Quincey’s concept to create a detailed and sinister mythology for the film. Similarly, more recent folklores such as Hereditary feature ritualistic practices that align with historical witchcraft and occultism. The film’s central plot revolves around the summoning of Paimon, a demon from historical grimoires. This figure is based on actual occult lore, where Paimon is described as one of the Kings of Hell and sought after for his supposed powers.

While The Woods does integrate some historical and cultural references, its approach is more elusive than the traditional depictions of witchcraft. Instead, it reinterprets traditional mythology, focusing less on dark arts and more on the psychological manipulation exerted by the witches.

Sacrificial rituals are a staple in the subgenre. From The Wicker Man’s shocking finale to Suspiria’s ritualistic murders, these acts are central to the horror of folklore cinema. Typically, these practices involve dramatic, ceremonial acts meant to appease or summon supernatural entities. The Wicker Man’s climactic scene sees Sergeant Howie (Edward Woodward) burned alive in a wicker figure. In Suspiria, the ritual scenes are depicted as macabre ceremonies with a focus on the physical suffering of the victims. 

But in The Woods, the concept of sacrifice takes a more personal approach. The film’s climax revolves around forsaking one’s identity and autonomy over life itself. Heather’s final confrontation with the witches isn’t about preventing a physical sacrifice. Instead, it’s about reclaiming her mind and sense of self from the psychological torture inflicted on her.  

Set against the backdrop of a post-World War II society, The Woods subtly draws on the cultural fears surrounding witchcraft during that time. Witchcraft in this era symbolized resistance and the anti-establishment movement. And, although this wasn’t the first wave of witchcraft, it coincided with a period when music was profoundly influential in shaping countercultural movements. In the film, Heather repeatedly listens to Leslie Gore’s “You Don’t Own Me,” an anthem for women’s freedom. The song’s cultural relevance lies in its message of freedom and self-determination, aligning with the film’s theme of personal and psychological struggles against oppressive forces. This underscores Heather’s journey toward reclaiming her identity and autonomy, mirroring the broader socio-cultural battles of the time.   

The 60s was a decade marked by significant social upheaval. And as traditional norms were challenged, nature became a potent symbol of freedom and truth. For many, nature represented a space free from societal pressures and artificial constructs. The natural world was seen as a place where individuals could reconnect with a truer self, unbound by the expectations and restrictions of normal life.

In The Woods, the forest reflects Heather’s internal struggles and desires for freedom. Feeling isolated and driven by curiosity and desperation, she explores the surrounding woods to escape from the oppressive environment of the academy. As she navigates the forest, she encounters supernatural phenomena, such as distorted trees and strange symbols. These encounters symbolize her confrontation with hidden truths and the breaking down of her old identity. The forest becomes a space where societal norms are suspended, and Heather is forced to confront the darker aspects of her own psyche.

In many folklore horror films, symbols and rituals serve as direct manifestations of the conflict between the protagonists and the forces against them. The transformations characters undergo are often tied to these rituals and sacrifices, reflecting the overarching mythological framework of the story. In more traditional narratives, such as The Ritual, symbols are connected to Norse mythology and folklore. These symbols actively contribute to the supernatural threats, acting as physical manifestations of the ancient deities. In The Ritual, the runic carvings are not passive elements but active components that invoke the forest’s dark power.

In The Woods, the approach to symbols and rituals is notably different. While the film doesn’t explicitly reference Norse mythology, it does subtly incorporate elements that echo symbols found in Norse myths.

In Norse mythology, Yggdrasil is the central World Tree that connects the nine worlds. It symbolizes the interconnection of all life and the cosmos. In The Woods, the forest can be seen as a parallel to Yggdrasil, acting as a central force that encompasses Heather’s journey. Similarly, liminal spaces in mythology are transitional zones where characters confront deeper truths or undergo transformations. 

In Norse mythology, places like Jotunheim (the land of giants) are often portrayed as challenging, otherworldly realms.  The forest in The Woods functions as a liminal space where Heather experiences profound psychological and emotional shifts. This aligns with the Norse idea of otherworldly realms being sites of significant transformation and revelation. The forest represents a boundary between the ordinary world and the deeper, darker truths Heather must confront.

Unlike the direct supernatural effects of symbols in Norse mythology, the pagan symbols in The Woods play a more sinister role. The symbols, such as the distorted trees and strange markings, represent Heather’s internal struggle rather than being the direct cause of supernatural threats. The witches use these symbols to create a sense of isolation, fear, and confusion within Heather, serving as psychological triggers rather than physical ones. The twisted, unnatural shapes of the trees mirror her own feelings of confusion, fear, and alienation. And the circular patterns found in the forest and within the academy represent the recurring nature of control and entrapment that Heather experiences throughout the film.

While The Woods incorporates traditional themes of folklore, including pagan symbols and witchcraft, it successfully shifts the focus from external supernatural threats to internal psychological manipulation. Unlike other films in the subgenre that emphasize physical manifestations of dark magic, The Woods offers a more introspective take on folklore horror.  This approach sets it apart, presenting a fresh perspective on the genre that lingers long after the final scene.