(Editor’s Note: Mental illness and its depiction in media are sensitive subjects. Proceed with caution. The views and opinions expressed in the following are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect those of RUE MORGUE or its publisher. )

By GABRIELLA FOOR

Cinema has made monsters of the ill for years now, and viewers, patients and doctors are becoming more aware of it. Advocates and professors speaking on the topic have voiced concern over film’s often bleak portrayal of mental illness, going so far as saying that One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest was the equivalent of Jaws in its depiction of treatments such as ECT (electroconvulsive therapy), making it seem torturous – though it is still used today, and in fact, I’ve discussed it with my provider. Mental illness alone does not damn you to a future of chaos, it merely makes an individual’s journey less direct than others, filtering what they see and hear through a unique lens. We are not monstrous because of our disorders, and we deserve an accurate representation of how the logical mind might function for our better instincts as opposed to the more shocking (but dramatically entertaining) path of someone descending into madness.

In this second installment of “The Fractured Mind,” I’ll again focus on mostly male subjects, as I’ve found that many mental illness-oriented horror films tend to feature men. However, women have received more representation recently (i.e. Shudder’s House of Psychotic Women Collection, curated by author and genre scholar Kier-La Janisse, based on her essential and revelatory book of the same title.) Still, if you simply look up the term “men’s mental health,” some of the first words you’ll see are “struggle,” “silence” and “stigma,” highlighting the barriers men face when they choose to be vulnerable in admitting they need psychological assistance. I’ll focus on character analysis of these subjects, the clichés, tropes, hang-ups, hatred and stigma around these conditions, and why this creates such sensation, ripe to design an agent of violence out of a mentally ill individual. 

THE VOICES (2014)
 Schizophrenia 

The most outrageous (and the most damning, in my opinion) exploitation of a mental illness in a horror film is The Voices, which portrays a person with schizophrenia as a deluded monster with no desire to get well. Schizophrenia, a rare and serious psychiatric condition, is a chronic brain disorder affecting under 1% of the population. Characterized by intrusive symptoms like hallucinations, delusions, garbled speech and difficulty focusing, schizophrenia patients rarely present as any more violent than the average individual and are theorized to be more likely to be victims of crime rather than perpetrators. We see many of these symptoms in The Voices. However, this depiction of schizophrenia is relentlessly biased.

Jerry (Ryan Reynolds) is a factory worker who has struggled with his mental health for the majority of his life, harboring trauma and struggling with his schizophrenia. He sees his therapist, Dr. Warren (Jacki Weaver), regularly (and her performance is magnificent) to monitor his medication and work status. Jerry follows a strict treatment plan – as most severe psychiatric cases require. We even learn that Jerry’s mother suffered from the condition, calling the voices she heard in her head “angels.” Jerry is a friendly, albeit tone-deaf, guy who can’t tell when he should or shouldn’t insert himself into social situations, earning him ridicule. At home, he talks to his pets, a cat and dog, and they talk back – the angel and devil on his shoulders. 

He takes a liking to Fiona (Gemma Arterton), one of his coworkers, and attempts to take her out on a date. Sadly, she stands him up. Stranded in the rain, Fiona sees Jerry driving home alone and flags him down. In the downpour, a deer jumps in the way of the car, mortally injuring itself. Jerry, in his delusional state, believes the animal is begging for mercy. After slitting its throat, Fiona runs off. Knife still in hand, Jerry runs after her and accidentally stabs her in a fall. In this pivotal moment, Jerry doesn’t try to save Fiona’s life. Instead, he chooses to kill her, hysterically screaming apologies as he stabs at her. He dismembers her and keeps her head in his refrigerator. Unfortunately, more than animals talk to Jerry. His victims regain a voice through his delusions. Perhaps, this is an attempt at humor to lighten a very dark situation, but from my view, it’s just a plot device to fuel the horror of his illness.

I have several issues with this depiction of schizophrenia as well as the attempt to show a serial killer in a sympathetic light. Jerry is painted as kind, thoughtful and caring. Yet, when he’s around women, it seems violence always follows. No matter how open he tries to be, he seems overwhelmed by shame and fear, causing him to be reactive, often with negative consequences. I found it fully disconcerting that a man who can supposedly function in the outside world would return to his home and choose to talk to the heads of his victims like friends. The moment that enraged me most was when Jerry finally chooses to take his medication after much denial (a horrible example to set for anyone with mental illness), and he’s horrified that the voices are gone, panicking at the thought that he is now completely alone with his deeds. Instead of acting like the upstanding, hard-working man we are led to believe he is, he sees the carnage he’s created and decides to dispose of his medication and live in his chosen delusion.

To top it off, Jerry takes no responsibility for the lives he claimed, and instead of facing the authorities and giving the families of these poor women closure (and likely being institutionalized for his deeds), he opts out. Jerry shows no signs that he knows the difference between right and wrong, but he chooses to die in a fire instead of facing his condition – and justice. This is a bleak, uninspiring tale, ending in the virtual escape of a man who both needs help and needs to answer for his actions. The voices Jerry hears even inspire him to “stand his ground,” as there’s nothing left in this life for him. Suicide is often portrayed in media in some sacrificial, grandiose way. In The Voices, we see flames engulfing the building as Jerry sits in contemplation, awaiting his fate. This is not the “burning high-rise” scenario described by the late David Foster Wallace, author of Infinite Jest, to explain why some are compelled to kill themselves. It seems like a betrayal of treatment and personal responsibility. The real kicker is the credits, during which Jerry and the women (with their heads attached) dance merrily like nothing ever happened. The tragic conclusion followed by a dance number made me feel like this was humor at a vulnerable population’s expense. Jerry’s delusions, anxieties, compulsions and evasion tactics are not a matter of comedy, and that is a damaging – and dangerous – message for patients. 

HALLOWEEN & HUBIE HALLOWEEN
Demonization of Mental Patients

This is the first time I’ve admitted this to anyone outside my immediate circle. I spent some time inpatient in hospitals for some disturbances and erratic behavior before I was under the care of multiple medical professionals. We have a certain expectation of mental patients, especially in horror. I think Cult of Chucky is what we imagine when we think of a place for the mentally ill: white, safe, clinical and full of shuffling, somewhat cognizant zombies enslaved by their conditions. My time in hospitals showed me that this stereotype is not only wrong but that the common myth that mental patients could just escape could be dispelled. There is literal (and figurative) red tape everywhere, reminding you how painfully close you are to freedom but unable to leave. The unit is a mixture of high and low-functioning patients, all of whom have either voluntarily signed themselves in (I’ve found that some of the higher-functioning folks recognize they’re in crisis) or were forcibly hospitalized, like me. My thoughts were certainly fixated on getting out, but I understood the consequences of a jailbreak in my fragile state – unlike the subjects of this section. 

John Carpenter’s 1978 smash hit Halloween created a horror icon and a decades-long franchise marking unprecedented success for the genre and independent film. Of course, Halloween focuses on Michael Myers, an escaped mental patient committed to a sanitorium after murdering his sister on Halloween night. Fifteen years later, he escapes and stalks the fictional town of Haddonfield, Illinois, with his psychiatrist, Dr. Sam Loomis (Donald Pleasence) hot on his heels. 

Once again, we see the mentally ill compelled towards violence. However, this seems like more of a blanket condemnation of anyone who’s spent time as an inpatient as a potential threat to society. Michael’s official diagnosis is unclear, with the possibilities being nearly endless, ranging from catatonia to conversion disorder to the low-hanging fruit of antisocial personality disorder. His origins point towards the ever-fascinating “born bad” theory that evil is rooted in some of us, pairing with whatever illnesses we inherit. Because Micheal Myers is a killer from a young age, Halloween seems like the story of a man, doomed from the start, who has spent the majority of his life in medical captivity. Upon breaking loose, he embarks on a killing spree targeting young women. This paints an all too familiar picture of the “maniac on the loose” as Michael incites panic in residents who don’t necessarily see mental patients as people.

Halloween potentially represents the damaging trope of the “solo villain” or “the disabled villain” in which the main antagonist of a film or work of literature is disabled or disfigured. Compressing a character into a trope worked well enough for Halloween, as Michael Myers isn’t your average mental patient. However, this trope is so widespread that we see this scenario more often than we should. Mentally ill and on the loose, Michael is a danger to himself and others, a man with a mission for carnage. This isn’t to say Michael’s actions aren’t terrifying and heinous, but when we start isolating villains as the only people who struggle with mental and physical health, we encourage ableism. Advocates speaking on the topic believe that audiences will naturally internalize the fact that a villain is mentally ill, disabled or disfigured, and the more times they are presented with this, the more likely they are to start aligning with that belief. The genre inspires fear with these tropes – and unwittingly boxes in an entire population. 

As a whole, Halloween is the most extreme example of prejudice against the mentally ill. Unfortunately, this attitude persists, even in family-friendly movies. Hubie Halloween, the 2020 Adam Sandler film, which serves as a love letter to the holiday, opens with Ben Stiller openly mocking patients as an orderly in what appears to be a high-security hospital, When he discovers that the patients in question have escaped, he makes a frantic radio call: “Psycho on the loose!” After we see who the escaped patients are, there’s no indication that they are psychotic or even violent. Yet, Hubie Halloween still throws some subtle shade. In the film, Steve Buscemi plays Walter Lambert, a man living under a fake name who believes he is a werewolf. Walter, one of the escapees, sets up residence in Hubie’s (Sandler) neighborhood. After some abduction insanity on Halloween Night leaves one pig dead and nearly four people up in flames, the authorities are left wondering if they’ve caught their suspect, and if so, who killed the pig? Walter pipes up and says it was actually him. He slaughtered the animal during one of his werewolf-inspired episodes, adding animal murder and mutilation to the mix. This shows us that even when the mentally ill are portrayed as harmless (and even relatable), there’s always something unsavory beneath the surface. 

Sources:
Estridge, B. (2011, July 9). Jack Nicholson did for shock therapy what Jaws did for sharks: An expert argues that ECT has been stigmatised. Mail Online. https://www.dailymail.co.uk/health/article-2012924/Jack-Nicholson-did-shock-therapy-Jaws-did-sharks.html

Torres, F. (2020, August). What Is Schizophrenia? American Psychiatric Association. https://www.psychiatry.org/patients-families/schizophrenia/what-is-schizophrenia#:~:text=Schizophrenia%20is%20a%20chronic%20brain

An Actual Psychiatrist On How To Treat Michael Myers And Other Horror Psychopaths. (2022, October 30). Cracked.com. https://www.cracked.com/article_35789_an-actual-psychiatrist-on-how-to-treat-michael-myers-and-other-horror-psychopaths.html

Carr, K. (2022, October 7). The Problem with the “Disabled Villain” Trope. The Nora Project. https://thenoraproject.ngo/nora-notes-blog/the-problem-with-the-disabled-villain-trope