Heidi Honeycutt’s I Spit on Your Celluloid aims to fill a sizeable silence in horror film history. Conceived in 2005, the book has 15 years of work behind it, collecting rare archival digs and paying as much attention and care to mainstream, well-known filmmakers, independent players and even unfinished projects helmed by women. Over 400 pages and over 190 illustrations, this work is a journalist’s, critic’s, programmer’s and horror fan’s book ––and the author’s voice intimates all these facets. This investigation reconstructs, through firsthand evidence or even through press releases, memorabilia and anecdotal information, the summaries of numerous films developed by women since the inception of the medium. In so doing, the book opens several discussions regarding authorship, genre in all its forms, format and distribution practices throughout time, and about the ways in which all of these are traversed by the hierarchization and gendering of cultural production.
The author’s careful mapping of decades of female-led horror visual culture bets on democratizing the results of her lengthy investigation, resolvedly moving away from theoretically led interpretation and championing an accessible, at times conversational, register, deciding that “[f]ilm fans don’t want to learn about social and Freudian feminism in Stripped to Kill (1986). Authors writing from this point of view are writing for themselves and other academics rather than for audiences who watch movies and are responsible for films’ artistic success or failure” (Honeycutt, 2). Honeycutt’s study contributes to the ever-growing historical, theoretical and cultural reappraisal of the labour of women pioneered by 1000 Women in Horror, 1895-2018 (Alexandra Heller-Nicholas), Women Make Horror: Filmmaking, feminism, genre edited by Alison Peirse, and Patricia Pister’s New Blood in Contemporary Cinema: Women Directors and the Poetics of Horror ––all of them published in 2020–– followed by Victoria McCollum and Aislinn Clarke’s edited collection Bloody women: Women directors of horror (2022), SITGES’ deliveries edited by Mónica García Massagué: Woman in fan (2022), Mistress of fan (2023) and Horror Girls (2024), and the upcoming Witches, Witchcraft and Women’s Filmmaking by Heller-Nicholas.
I Spit on Your Celluloid is comprised of nine chapters, although the main criterion for their organization is sometimes elusive ––sometimes by historical period, format or geographical location, each chapter groups tens of cases that track the many manifestations of female style and authorship in relation to horror visual culture. In her chapter about early horror films (Chapter 1: Mother of all evil. 1896 through 1945), Honeycutt delineates an intersection between horror, fantasies and mystery features, investigating the ways in which matters of form and content, as well as the development of cinematic technology and industries, are inextricable from the evolution of the female horror film director as a figure.
Consequently, her reflections on the early days of the medium brings the generous flexibility of genre forward, opening the door for further academic examination on authorship, genre and gender into currency. The book’s first overview on the resourcefulness of women in developing multiple innovations at the centre of genre visual culture ––e.g. unorthodox angles, editing tricks, creative camera use––carries throughout the book. Chapter 2. A land of both shadow and substance tackles female filmmaking in the UK and US during the 1950s and ’60s as a period that was irrevocably affected by the emergence of television and the discouragement of monopoly practices by studios. The discussion that ensues in this chapter is also one of format, underlining the demand for serials over film features (and the development of made-for-television films), which complicated the enmeshment of gender, format and storytelling in domestic distribution. Through cases such as Joan Kemp-Welch’s interventions as a TV director for the BBC in the 1960s, Honeycutt gestures towards the strife of categorization in genre programming and the task of working with “women’s programmes” as a demotion, which demonstrates the male-dominated bent not only in the industry, but also in the very categorization of media products. The chapter makes a case for the technical and narrative innovations fronted by women in the construction of an intermedial genre aesthetics; for instance, engaging in the ways in which British horror serials made winks to radio plays, took cues from gothic literature and innovated on previous forms.
Chapter 3. A woman’s place is in exploitation films is less historical progression and more format inspired, reviewing how fringe formats and practices (low-budget exploitation, art films, pornography) informed female authorship in US American visual culture. By addressing the cases of Gale Ann Hurd, Debra Hill, Roberta Finlay and others, the author explores the marginalized cultural forms in which women thrived, disputing the assumption of propriety attached to women filmmakers. This chapter demystifies the expectation of prudishness attached to normative views on women, championing the stories of filmmakers that thrived in the margins of cult, exploitation and the intersections of horror and pornography during the 1960s through the 1980s. The chapter also illuminates the institutional shifts fronted by women, such as efforts to unionize and organize to find protections within an industry hostile towards them and their work.
Chapter 4. Obras maestras del terror tackles non-English language horror. The section groups several Global Northern productions on the account of language for the most part and, thus, risks reproducing their centeredness in the discursive making of an alternative horror film history. Nevertheless, it offers a rich overview of women’s labor in global horror cinema ––a strong and suitable companion to academic contributions such as Doing Women’s Global Horror Film History, an extensive compilation of feminist horror film history via videographic academic critique–– and does enlist thorough passages on cinema cultures of India, Philippines and Argentina, among others, but lacking entries on Africa. What stands out from this chapter is the foregrounding of rare works of Mexican horror film by women, such as Isela Vega’s Las Amantes del Señor de la Noche (1983), cowritten with Hugo Argüelles. Vega is usually remembered for her political opinions and sex symbol status in Mexican popular culture ––a matter that Sergio De la Mora skillfully tackles in his chapter in Latsploitation, Exploitation Cinemas, and Latin America (2009), essential to Latin American scholarship. Vega’s film was recently vindicated by a screening in the fall of 2022 as part of the the cycle “Mexico Maleficarum: Resurrecting 20th Century Mexican Horror Cinema” at the Academy Museum of Motion Pictures, programmed by Mexican horror scholar Abraham Castillo. This illustrates the relevance of this case study for the archival reappraisal of Latin American visual culture. The chapter also discusses Argentina, which is careful in the revision of trademark horror serials Obras maestras del terror with the work of Marta Reguera between 1960 and 1962, and María Herminia Avellaneda’s contribution to the format with Antología de miedo. However, this section runs rather dry in contemporary work, as key figures like Laura Casabé, Paula Pollacchi, Jimena Monteoliva and Tamae Garateguy, to mention a few, are not mentioned at all despite their incontrovertible relevance.
Chapter 5. Some nudity required. Strippers, Sequels and VHS taps into the importance of home formats and low budget production for the flourishing of female creativity. By revisiting the work of Barbara Peeters, Amy Holden, Deborah, Susan Shadburne, Sally Mattison, Carol Frank, Katt Shea, Penelope Spheeris, Tina Hirsch, Mary Ann Fisher, Kristine Peterson and many more, Honeycutt interweaves their work with specific events that opened the floodgates for female directors in horror, such as the popularization of VHS and its connection to found footage aesthetics via Lesley Manning’s Ghostwatch (1992), the rise of digital filmmaking and the consequent popularity of the internet as a preferred mode of distribution. This engrossing chapter places the history of women in genre by considering the strides made in low budget productions and independent digital distribution as sites of growth for women directing.
Chapter 6. Sometimes dead is better. Theatrical horror in the 1980s and 1990s opens with the hollow effort offered by the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences (AMPAS), declaring 1993 year the Year of the Woman during the Oscars despite the clear sidelining of women, ultimately contributing to the discourse of women as anomalies within genre filmmaking. It discusses beloved classics like Mary Lambert’s Pet Sematary (1989) and its sequel(s) in rich detail, exemplifying the powerhouse that female-directed horror can be for audiences and most importantly, engaging with the matter of adaptation, which is crucial to horror visual culture’s intertextuality. This tone bleeds into discussions on Fran Kuzui’s Buffy the Vampire Slayer (1992) vis a vis Joss Whedon’s subsequent television series (1997-2003). Despite the author not having academic pretentions to analyze intertextuality, this pattern during the 1990s and 2000s is neatly defined in the chapter, which opens fruitful opportunities for further investigation.
Chapter 7. Pieces of Jennifer’s Body. Theatrical and mainstream horror of the 21st century addresses the turn-of-the-century circumstances that allowed for theatrically released, female genre filmmaking to develop despite the many structural inequalities baked into the film industry. By addressing milestone cases like American Psycho (2000) and Charlie Says (2018) as results of the collaboration between Mary Harron and Guinevere Turner, the author opens an opportunity to engage with literature on female co-authorship. This discussion on collaboration extends to one of the most examined cases in female and feminist authorship on horror film: Karyn Kusama’s and Diablo Cody’s Jennifer’s Body (2009), which raises the question on whether commercially predatory releases can forward feminist discourse within their limitations in a patriarchal industry ––a reading that pairs nicely with analyses like Katarzyna Paszkiewicz’s brilliant discussion on this very case study (2018).
Chapter 8. 21st century viscera. Digital technology, short films and innovation, takes to task the intersection between fandom, filmmaking and social media, as connectivity has brought with it an array of possibilities for crowdfunding, distribution and reception of horror visual culture. This revision echoes recent academic contributions, such as Lindsay Hallam’s writing on interactivity and digital technology in New Blood. Critical Approaches to Contemporary Horror (2020). The chapter plays out as a Frankensteinian monster-assemblage, comprised of different pieces with fascinating origins: DIY horror with riot grrrrl oomph; short film’s cutting-teeth popularity and the artistic (and political) merits of this form for filmmakers like Jennifer Kent, Gigi Saul Guerrero and Prano Bailey-Bond; the incredible affordances of anthologies (a thread that runs through other chapters) as collective female and feminist efforts; female-directed documentaries on all aspects of horror visual culture that act as chronicles of its history; the lesser explored strides that women have made in horror-themed animation; the intersection between horror, parody and pornography; the protagonism of women filmmakers in pink films (pinku eiga) in Japan and their statements on sexuality; the transgressive legacy of the daughters of Germaine Dulac and Maya Deren making experimental horror; the importance of incomplete projects led by women and finally, on actresses making the transition to directing roles as a way to reclaim representation and craft it themselves.
Lastly, Chapter 9. Promising young women. The changing nature of horror, acts like a wrap up to the book’s extensive historical account. It is a neat discursive close to the current state of affairs in female filmmaking, signaling to a road that continues to be paved not only by female directors but by women at all levels of production, alongside historically minoritized groups in filmmaking. The landscape before us is painted as one of increasing diversity and political engagement that continues to demonstrate critical possibilities of horror to put the finger on cultural anxieties and fears into the twenty-first century by means of diverse thematic, stylistic and discursive strategies developed by women.
In summary, Honeycutt’s thorough, caring and exhaustive book contributes to the pertinent reconstruction of horror film history by addressing its many silences when it comes to women’s work. Its fluidity and conversational approach allow the reader, be it scholar, fan or horror geek, to immerse themselves in a wealth of information on the history, legacy and incredible strides of women in the fashioning of genre visual culture.
The author’s careful mapping of decades of female-led horror visual culture bets on democratizing the results of her lengthy investigation, resolvedly moving away from theoretically led interpretation and championing an accessible, at times conversational, register, deciding that “[f]ilm fans don’t want to learn about social and Freudian feminism in Stripped to Kill (1986). Authors writing from this point of view are writing for themselves and other academics rather than for audiences who watch movies and are responsible for films’ artistic success or failure” (Honeycutt, 2). Honeycutt’s study contributes to the ever-growing historical, theoretical and cultural reappraisal of the labour of women pioneered by 1000 Women in Horror, 1895-2018 (Alexandra Heller-Nicholas), Women Make Horror: Filmmaking, feminism, genre edited by Alison Peirse, and Patricia Pister’s New Blood in Contemporary Cinema: Women Directors and the Poetics of Horror ––all of them published in 2020–– followed by Victoria McCollum and Aislinn Clarke’s edited collection Bloody women: Women directors of horror (2022), SITGES’ deliveries edited by Mónica García Massagué: Woman in fan (2022), Mistress of fan (2023) and Horror Girls (2024), and the upcoming Witches, Witchcraft and Women’s Filmmaking by Heller-Nicholas.
I Spit on Your Celluloid is comprised of nine chapters, although the main criterion for their organization is sometimes elusive ––sometimes by historical period, format or geographical location, each chapter groups tens of cases that track the many manifestations of female style and authorship in relation to horror visual culture. In her chapter about early horror films (Chapter 1: Mother of all evil. 1896 through 1945), Honeycutt delineates an intersection between horror, fantasies and mystery features, investigating the ways in which matters of form and content, as well as the development of cinematic technology and industries, are inextricable from the evolution of the female horror film director as a figure.
Consequently, her reflections on the early days of the medium brings the generous flexibility of genre forward, opening the door for further academic examination on authorship, genre and gender into currency. The book’s first overview on the resourcefulness of women in developing multiple innovations at the centre of genre visual culture ––e.g. unorthodox angles, editing tricks, creative camera use––carries throughout the book. Chapter 2. A land of both shadow and substance tackles female filmmaking in the UK and US during the 1950s and ’60s as a period that was irrevocably affected by the emergence of television and the discouragement of monopoly practices by studios. The discussion that ensues in this chapter is also one of format, underlining the demand for serials over film features (and the development of made-for-television films), which complicated the enmeshment of gender, format and storytelling in domestic distribution. Through cases such as Joan Kemp-Welch’s interventions as a TV director for the BBC in the 1960s, Honeycutt gestures towards the strife of categorization in genre programming and the task of working with “women’s programmes” as a demotion, which demonstrates the male-dominated bent not only in the industry, but also in the very categorization of media products. The chapter makes a case for the technical and narrative innovations fronted by women in the construction of an intermedial genre aesthetics; for instance, engaging in the ways in which British horror serials made winks to radio plays, took cues from gothic literature and innovated on previous forms.
Chapter 3. A woman’s place is in exploitation films is less historical progression and more format inspired, reviewing how fringe formats and practices (low-budget exploitation, art films, pornography) informed female authorship in US American visual culture. By addressing the cases of Gale Ann Hurd, Debra Hill, Roberta Finlay and others, the author explores the marginalized cultural forms in which women thrived, disputing the assumption of propriety attached to women filmmakers. This chapter demystifies the expectation of prudishness attached to normative views on women, championing the stories of filmmakers that thrived in the margins of cult, exploitation and the intersections of horror and pornography during the 1960s through the 1980s. The chapter also illuminates the institutional shifts fronted by women, such as efforts to unionize and organize to find protections within an industry hostile towards them and their work.
Chapter 4. Obras maestras del terror tackles non-English language horror. The section groups several Global Northern productions on the account of language for the most part and, thus, risks reproducing their centeredness in the discursive making of an alternative horror film history. Nevertheless, it offers a rich overview of women’s labor in global horror cinema ––a strong and suitable companion to academic contributions such as Doing Women’s Global Horror Film History, an extensive compilation of feminist horror film history via videographic academic critique–– and does enlist thorough passages on cinema cultures of India, Philippines and Argentina, among others, but lacking entries on Africa. What stands out from this chapter is the foregrounding of rare works of Mexican horror film by women, such as Isela Vega’s Las Amantes del Señor de la Noche (1983), cowritten with Hugo Argüelles. Vega is usually remembered for her political opinions and sex symbol status in Mexican popular culture ––a matter that Sergio De la Mora skillfully tackles in his chapter in Latsploitation, Exploitation Cinemas, and Latin America (2009), essential to Latin American scholarship. Vega’s film was recently vindicated by a screening in the fall of 2022 as part of the the cycle “Mexico Maleficarum: Resurrecting 20th Century Mexican Horror Cinema” at the Academy Museum of Motion Pictures, programmed by Mexican horror scholar Abraham Castillo. This illustrates the relevance of this case study for the archival reappraisal of Latin American visual culture. The chapter also discusses Argentina, which is careful in the revision of trademark horror serials Obras maestras del terror with the work of Marta Reguera between 1960 and 1962, and María Herminia Avellaneda’s contribution to the format with Antología de miedo. However, this section runs rather dry in contemporary work, as key figures like Laura Casabé, Paula Pollacchi, Jimena Monteoliva and Tamae Garateguy, to mention a few, are not mentioned at all despite their incontrovertible relevance.
Chapter 5. Some nudity required. Strippers, Sequels and VHS taps into the importance of home formats and low budget production for the flourishing of female creativity. By revisiting the work of Barbara Peeters, Amy Holden, Deborah, Susan Shadburne, Sally Mattison, Carol Frank, Katt Shea, Penelope Spheeris, Tina Hirsch, Mary Ann Fisher, Kristine Peterson and many more, Honeycutt interweaves their work with specific events that opened the floodgates for female directors in horror, such as the popularization of VHS and its connection to found footage aesthetics via Lesley Manning’s Ghostwatch (1992), the rise of digital filmmaking and the consequent popularity of the internet as a preferred mode of distribution. This engrossing chapter places the history of women in genre by considering the strides made in low budget productions and independent digital distribution as sites of growth for women directing.
Chapter 6. Sometimes dead is better. Theatrical horror in the 1980s and 1990s opens with the hollow effort offered by the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences (AMPAS), declaring 1993 year the Year of the Woman during the Oscars despite the clear sidelining of women, ultimately contributing to the discourse of women as anomalies within genre filmmaking. It discusses beloved classics like Mary Lambert’s Pet Sematary (1989) and its sequel(s) in rich detail, exemplifying the powerhouse that female-directed horror can be for audiences and most importantly, engaging with the matter of adaptation, which is crucial to horror visual culture’s intertextuality. This tone bleeds into discussions on Fran Kuzui’s Buffy the Vampire Slayer (1992) vis a vis Joss Whedon’s subsequent television series (1997-2003). Despite the author not having academic pretentions to analyze intertextuality, this pattern during the 1990s and 2000s is neatly defined in the chapter, which opens fruitful opportunities for further investigation.
Chapter 7. Pieces of Jennifer’s Body. Theatrical and mainstream horror of the 21st century addresses the turn-of-the-century circumstances that allowed for theatrically released, female genre filmmaking to develop despite the many structural inequalities baked into the film industry. By addressing milestone cases like American Psycho (2000) and Charlie Says (2018) as results of the collaboration between Mary Harron and Guinevere Turner, the author opens an opportunity to engage with literature on female co-authorship. This discussion on collaboration extends to one of the most examined cases in female and feminist authorship on horror film: Karyn Kusama’s and Diablo Cody’s Jennifer’s Body (2009), which raises the question on whether commercially predatory releases can forward feminist discourse within their limitations in a patriarchal industry ––a reading that pairs nicely with analyses like Katarzyna Paszkiewicz’s brilliant discussion on this very case study (2018).
Chapter 8. 21st century viscera. Digital technology, short films and innovation, takes to task the intersection between fandom, filmmaking and social media, as connectivity has brought with it an array of possibilities for crowdfunding, distribution and reception of horror visual culture. This revision echoes recent academic contributions, such as Lindsay Hallam’s writing on interactivity and digital technology in New Blood. Critical Approaches to Contemporary Horror (2020). The chapter plays out as a Frankensteinian monster-assemblage, comprised of different pieces with fascinating origins: DIY horror with riot grrrrl oomph; short film’s cutting-teeth popularity and the artistic (and political) merits of this form for filmmakers like Jennifer Kent, Gigi Saul Guerrero and Prano Bailey-Bond; the incredible affordances of anthologies (a thread that runs through other chapters) as collective female and feminist efforts; female-directed documentaries on all aspects of horror visual culture that act as chronicles of its history; the lesser explored strides that women have made in horror-themed animation; the intersection between horror, parody and pornography; the protagonism of women filmmakers in pink films (pinku eiga) in Japan and their statements on sexuality; the transgressive legacy of the daughters of Germaine Dulac and Maya Deren making experimental horror; the importance of incomplete projects led by women and finally, on actresses making the transition to directing roles as a way to reclaim representation and craft it themselves.
Lastly, Chapter 9. Promising young women. The changing nature of horror, acts like a wrap up to the book’s extensive historical account. It is a neat discursive close to the current state of affairs in female filmmaking, signaling to a road that continues to be paved not only by female directors but by women at all levels of production, alongside historically minoritized groups in filmmaking. The landscape before us is painted as one of increasing diversity and political engagement that continues to demonstrate critical possibilities of horror to put the finger on cultural anxieties and fears into the twenty-first century by means of diverse thematic, stylistic and discursive strategies developed by women.
In summary, Honeycutt’s thorough, caring and exhaustive book contributes to the pertinent reconstruction of horror film history by addressing its many silences when it comes to women’s work. Its fluidity and conversational approach allow the reader, be it scholar, fan or horror geek, to immerse themselves in a wealth of information on the history, legacy and incredible strides of women in the fashioning of genre visual culture.
Works Cited
De La Mora, Sergio (2009) ‘“Tus pinches leyes yo me las paso por los huevos”: Isela Vega and Mexican Dirty Movies’, in Dolores Tierney & Victoria Ruétalo (eds), Latsploitation, Exploitation Cinemas, and Latin America, Abingdon/New York: Routledge, pp. 245-257.
Hallam, Lindsay (2020) ‘Digital Witness: Found footage and desktop horror as post-cinematic experience,’ in Eddie Falvey, Joe Hickingbottom & Jonathan Wroot (eds), New Blood. Critical Approaches to Contemporary Horror, Wales: University of Wales Press, pp. 183-199.
Paszkiewicz, Katarzyna (2018) Genre, Authorship and Contemporary Women Filmmakers, Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, pp. 60-99.
Doing Women's Global Horror Film History. Special issue edited by Alison Peirse. MAI: Feminism and Visual Culture 13 (Spring 2024). https://maifeminism.com/issues/focus-issue-thirteen-doing-womens-global-horror-film-history/ (Accessed 31 October 2024).
De La Mora, Sergio (2009) ‘“Tus pinches leyes yo me las paso por los huevos”: Isela Vega and Mexican Dirty Movies’, in Dolores Tierney & Victoria Ruétalo (eds), Latsploitation, Exploitation Cinemas, and Latin America, Abingdon/New York: Routledge, pp. 245-257.
Hallam, Lindsay (2020) ‘Digital Witness: Found footage and desktop horror as post-cinematic experience,’ in Eddie Falvey, Joe Hickingbottom & Jonathan Wroot (eds), New Blood. Critical Approaches to Contemporary Horror, Wales: University of Wales Press, pp. 183-199.
Paszkiewicz, Katarzyna (2018) Genre, Authorship and Contemporary Women Filmmakers, Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, pp. 60-99.
Doing Women's Global Horror Film History. Special issue edited by Alison Peirse. MAI: Feminism and Visual Culture 13 (Spring 2024). https://maifeminism.com/issues/focus-issue-thirteen-doing-womens-global-horror-film-history/ (Accessed 31 October 2024).