[Editorial] How Repulsion (1965) Interacts with the Good for Her Genre

When I first watched Repulsion I found it to be a mixture of fascinating, horrifying, refreshing, and confusing. Knowing Polanski’s personal history and the effect of this on how we watch and interpret his work makes it a particularly intriguing case.

This editorial seeks to look at the film in the light of developments in the current climate of film discourse - how its cultural context and the potential intentions behind the making of the film adds to the complexity of how we watch it. I will examine Repulsion in conversation with the emergent ‘good for her’ genre, and ultimately argue that the film’s ability to be read as adhering in significant ways to aspects of the ‘good for her’ genre as well as noteworthy aspects of ‘the female gaze’ lead to an understanding of the film as occupying a complicated space in the conversation about what constitutes feminist horror cinema. 

The term ‘good for her’ was coined fairly recently within online discourse. It stems from a meme using a screenshot from Arrested Development in which Lucille Bluth (Jessica Walter) states ‘good for her’ in response to a news programme about a young mother claiming she couldn’t take it anymore before releasing the emergency brake and allowing her car to roll backwards into a lake. A tweet coining the ‘good for her cinematic universe’ followed, including images from various films judged to fall into this category. 

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I would define a ‘good for her’ film as a one that depicts and centres a female protagonist in the narrative, she is faced with a situation which threatens her wellbeing - usually not only physically but emotionally/ psychologically - she is the character through which we watch the events unfold and we are encouraged to identify with her struggles and actions to overcome the central conflict. The conflict of the film is linked to systemic oppression and there is often an element of the protagonist trying to overcome trauma around this which can be conveyed through the film using metaphor or allegory and/or simply being depicted explicitly in the text of the film. Often the viewer experiences a feeling of catharsis through seeing the protagonist overcome the challenges, and specifically defeat or outsmart the patriarchal order often by breaking rules they are expected to follow under the oppressive system. Heimburger writes: ‘by depicting female rage as a result of patriarchal oppression in film, “Good for Her” films offer a cathartic display of validating hysteria, relatable to women by showing how they wish they could act¹. 

As an example, Leigh Whannell’s The Invisible Man (2020), takes inspiration from the 1897 H.G. Wells' novel, using this source material to tell the story of Cecelia (Elisabeth Moss) overcoming her abusive ex-boyfriend Adrian (Oliver Jackson-Cohen). Adrian has invented and is using a suit that makes him invisible to torment her after she escapes the relationship. His abuse and her trauma as a result of this, explicitly drive the plot of the film. Furthermore, Adrian’s ability to become invisible can also be read as a metaphor for the way abusers often hide their identities as abusers to the world outside the abusive relationship. In the film’s finale, Cecelia turns Adrian’s own creation and his previous actions towards her against him, using the suit to make him appear to slit his throat—as he had done to her sister earlier in the film—and this is captured on his security cameras.

While the ‘good for her’ heroine (or anti-heroine) often emerges victorious, having defeated her adversaries, there is not always a necessarily happy ending. As an audience we are often left questioning the morality of the protagonist’s actions and/ or the effects that the events of the film have had upon her. David Fincher’s adaptation of Gone Girl (2014) - one of the films mentioned in the tweet that originated the ‘good for her’ category - sits on the border of the genre. Protagonist Amy is an extremely morally grey character, while we empathise with her in many instances - namely the particularly famous (infamous?) ‘cool girl’ monologue - she often acts in ways that overstep our ‘normal’ moral codes or even the extremes that we may come to accept within the boundaries of suspension of disbelief when engaging with a fictional narrative. In her discussion of the pitfalls of the ‘good for her’ genre Shunyata argues that, ‘because of this monologue, cinephiles online now hold Amy up as a symbol of modern-day feminism, which she just isn’t. She’s a symbol of white womanhood: she gets away with brutal crimes time and time again because she’s beautiful, rich, and white². Amy ends up ‘winning’ at the end, forcing Nick to have to stay in their marriage, terrified of the extent of her abilities to manipulate and outwit him and the general public. However, it is very hard to argue that this is a happy ending - as an audience though we may have empathised with both Amy and Nick at points throughout the film, they are clearly unlikeable people in a marriage that has been shown to have in the past make them both unhappy, and will continue to do so. Amy falsifying her rape and justifying murdering Desi (Neil Patrick Harris) to herself and to the public through convincing herself of his malicious intent is not a victory for feminism, she has twisted the tools of patriarchy in her favour and in doing so has perhaps enforced the myth of the false rape accusation as a tool women simply decide to whip out in response to personal grievances. While we may have experienced cathartic ‘good for her’ moments within the film, we should be careful when discussing this film within the emerging category. 

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Having considered the definition and some popular examples of films that sit in various positions on the spectrum of what is considered to fall within this genre, this provides a framework with which to consider Repulsion, which in my view, adheres to some aspects of this definition, making it an interesting case to examine as a possible precursor. Rather than Carol (Catherine Deneuve) weaponizing her white female victimhood to commit crimes, her mental illness manifesting in her violence against men is tragic and horrific to an audience as well as clearly impacting her - she is shown at the end of the film to be in a catatonic state, unable to resist the incursions into her space and upon her body. Her violent resistance to the men who enter her space unwanted, demand her attention and violate her body is arguably more warranted and empathised with than comparable actions committed by other ‘good for her’ heroines e.g. Amy’s killing of Desi (Neil Patrick Harris), Dani’s (Florence Pugh) allowing Christian’s (Jack Raynor) death at the hands of the Cult in Midsommar. 

The nature of the ‘good for her’ genre as nebulous with loosely defined boundaries having been coined within a meme allows such films to be considered as falling under its umbrella alongside films which clearly set out to use their narratives to interrogate the ways in which women are victimised under patriarchy and explore how they may overcome such victimisation (e.g. The Invisible Man). Unusually for the time it was made, Carol enacts violence back upon her agitators. Although Repulsion doesn’t deliver the kind of cathartic ending we now expect from a ‘good for her’ revenge film, rather than simply being defined by her victimhood, Carol crosses the boundary and becomes the threat. In portraying her as not simply a victim of these men but as actively resisting and responding violently and successfully to their unwanted advances the film can be read as an interesting precursor to the newly coined ‘good for her’ genre.

Like its sibling—the more popular Rosemary’s Baby (1968)— as viewers we are aligned with a female protagonist whose mental state we closely follow throughout the film. Carol may superficially adhere to patriarchal standards of beauty and desirability but at every turn she resists the advances of men, only becoming more extreme in her measures to resist their incursions as the film develops. We meet her working in a beauty salon surrounded by women both as colleagues and clients, ultimately she literally barricades her apartment door to prevent further invasions and yet the landlord still forces his way in. The film works both on a literal and metaphorical level, showing how Carol’s physical and mental space is repeatedly violated. 

Following Joey Soloway, I would argue that Repulsion’s adherence to aspects which define a feminine gaze, and resist the ‘male gaze’, complicates the ways modern audiences experience the film, and allows insight into how we may read it approach it as a predecessor to the turn towards ‘good for her’ film³ ⁴ . Soloway defines ‘the female gaze’ in three aspects: ‘a way of “feeling seeing’ [...] It uses the frame to share and evoke a feeling of being in feeling, rather than seeing - the characters’⁵. Secondly, ‘the camera talks out at you from its position as the receiver of the gaze. [...] the Gazed gaze. This is how it feels to be seen’⁶. Third and finally, it, ‘dares to return the gaze’, ‘it’s about how it feels to stand here in the world having been seen our entire lives’⁷.

As a psychological thriller, the audience's experience of Repulsion relies entirely upon its audience's emotional involvement with the main character, on entering into Carol’s (Catherine Deneuve) subjectivity - the imagery of the film, which becomes increasingly hallucinatory and untrustworthy as ‘real’ outside of her experience contributes to this. When the camera leers upon Carol, as so much of our experience of the film allies its viewer to her direct experience, rather than passively allowing an audience to leer, we experience her discomfort and feel the oppressiveness of the gaze upon her. ‘Using the camera to take on the very nuanced, occasionally impossible task of showing us how it feels to be THE OBJECT of the Gaze’⁸. When we come upon the most clear-cut, ‘real’-seeming instance of a man physically taking advantage of Carol (the Landlord), we have already endured many hallucinations and moments of violence she has experienced. The performance of the landlord as lecherous, attempting to sexually assault Carol, confirms her and the audience’s fears. While Carol has hallucinated violent assault throughout the film, on the instance that she allows a man into the flat, he takes advantage almost immediately. 

Perhaps more impactful in a way, the film raises questions around the more pervasive ‘everyday’ behaviour of ‘normal’ men and their saviour complex and sense of entitlement to beautiful women through the portrayal of Carol’s suitor Colin. Colin’s ‘nice guy’ vibe ultimately leads to him forcing his way into her flat as she paces anxiously around inside, believing that it is his job to save her. It is likely that Polanski intended him to come across as simply a well-intentioned tragic hero figure, however viewing the film through a modern lens it is evident that his ‘nice guy’ persona is ultimately not supported by his actions when he forces his way into her space. This tension between authorial intent and the potential of feminist interpretations of the film’s content brings an extra level of uneasy subtext to an already distressing film.

Finally, at the end of the film when we encounter Carol in her catatonic state with her sister and boyfriend, our horror at her position only increases. Her earlier revulsion at his razor inhabiting the same space in the bathroom as her toothbrush indicates her discomfort with him occupying her and her sister’s apartment. In her incapacitated state, him lifting and carrying her out of the apartment is almost physically painful as a viewer as we know this is not an act she would consent to if she was in any way capable. The film ultimately positions us with the female perspective, evoking the three major aspects Soloway identifies with the female gaze. The presentation of the nature of existence as a woman, defined as a sex object in the eyes of the male gaze while actively resisting this and the lack of power Carol has to decide not to be seen and viewed in this way is what generates the horror. Polanski’s additions of surreal and abject images of violence: hands thrusting through the walls, the skinned and rotting rabbit, the injury Carol inflicts upon a customer at the salon; aesthetically contribute to the film as an exploration into her psyche. The hallucinatory images mixed up with ‘reality’ create a sense of unease and questionability of the film as a whole, we are aligned with Carol and cannot fully disentangle from her subjectivity. 

Ultimately, Repulsion paints a portrait of a mentally unstable woman, a victim of her circumstances actively attempting to retreat to a place of safety, which is constantly violated in both her imagined space and the real physical space as depicted in the film - she resists these violations of her space and her body in violent ways, disrupting traditional expectations of women’s as passive victims to male antagonists. Polanski’s blurring of the boundaries between the real and the imaginary gives a refreshingly modern and uniquely heightened and terrifying insight into women’s’ fears under patriarchy. Polanski’s widely known history of sexual assault adds another layer to the unnerving atmosphere of the film and complicates how we interpret his ability to portray Carol’s experiences within the film. The way in which the film literalises the experience of being a woman under patriarchy and centres Carol as a fully realised subject, blurring the boundaries between victim and villain are defining aspects of the film that align with defining characteristics of the ‘good for her’ genre. 

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¹ Tara Heimberger, Female Rage, Revenge, and Catharsis: The "Good for Her" Genre Defined in Promising Young Woman (2020), English MA Theses, <https://kb.gcsu.edu/english/10>, p. 15

² Kaiya Shunyata, We Need to Talk About the “Good for Her” Genre, 15/01/21, <https://lithiumagazine.com/2021/01/15/we-need-to-talk-about-the-good-for-her-genre/>

³Cited as ‘Jill Soloway’ in footnotes from a TIFF talk in 2016, but I will refer to them by their name as of June 2020.

⁴ Laura Mulvey, Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema

⁵Jill Soloway, The Female Gaze, TIFF: Master Class September 11 2016, <https://www.toppleproductions.com/the-female-gaze> [accessed 21/5/21]

⁶Jill Soloway, The Female Gaze

⁷ Jill Soloway, The Female Gaze (emphasis adjusted)

⁸ Soloway

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