Any gay person who grew up with a overbearingly possessive mother knows the torture of having your every move dictated and the lack of freedom such attentions often bring with them. Such individuals may find much to relate to in the character of Barbara from the Lucy Comes to Stay segment of Asylum, the classic Amicus horror anthology film.
Recently released from a mental institution, Barbara (Charlotte Rampling) is immediately facing a different prison upon returning to her family home. Her brother George (James Villiers) has hired a softspoken yet dominating nurse (Megs Jenkins) to take care of her. Thus, she is forced into bed and given a sedative before she even has a chance to reacquaint herself with her ancestral surroundings. In a few moments, it is apparent to the audience that this is how she is going to spend most of her future days – with no sense of self-control or true freedom.
Rampling so expertly conveys the panic-feeling of her character’s entrapment that it is no real surprise when Lucy (Britt Ekland), Barbara’s seductively blonde alter-ego, appears to assist her. Playing her role with an almost gleefully sly sense of humor, Ekland’s Lucy has soon disposed of both of Barbara’s antagonists, momentarily freeing her to live fully and without apparent restraints.
Of course, things don’t end exactly as anticipated in the quick segment, with Barbara eventually ending up in the titular establishment again.
This short scenario ultimately encapsulates, though, why genre film is so important. It allows us, as viewers, to, voyeuristically, watch someone act out against the fictional representations of things that have harmed and/or subdued us.
This riskless revenge, in turn, ties us emotionally to the performers and films that allow us this psychological escape – proving, as always, that art of all forms is truly worth its weight in metaphoric gold.
Until the next time, SWEET love and pink GRUE, Big Gay Horror Fan!
When I was a pre-teen, my mother and I looked like we were exactly the same age. Other high schoolers would avoid us in movie theaters, sitting rows away, muttering to their friends that they wanted to watch the movie in peace. Their idea of fun wasn’t witnessing two kids holding hands and making out the entire time, fer christ’s sake! My mom, of course, ate this assumption up. I, quite understandably, was revolted. I would beg her to set the record straight. “Tell them we’re not boyfriend and girlfriend, mom,” I’d whisper as loudly as I could. But she would smile softly to herself and say, “Oh, I couldn’t possibly do that, Brian. It’s really not a big deal. Let them think what they want.”
Big Gay Horror Fan 