Sex & Horror: How Sexuality Shapes The Genre

Sex and horror have gone hand in hand since the genre’s inception; from the first time we ever saw Bela Lugosi sink his teeth into a woman in 1931, it was clear that this was a whole lot more than a simple bite on the neck. The concept of sexual awakening and all of its implications in horror is one that has defined the genre across all of its sub-categories, from classic monster movies to slasher cinema. The irrefutable correlation between sexuality and the things we fear is one horror has played on for years – in just about every way possible.

The vulnerability that sex requires touches on an inherent fear that lies in all of us and perfectly lends itself to creating terror in narrative form. Sexual desire drives people to do crazy things, sexual anticipation creates anxiety, sex itself spawns change. There’s a reason we’re so scared by situations in horror films created by sexual scenarios – because we’ve felt those same inclinations. “Very often, I need characters to do things which, under the right-thinking circumstances, they would never do,” wrote Hellraiser author Clive Barker. “They need to walk metaphorically through a door into another world … and you’ve got to get the character to a place where the audience will buy it. Sexual desire is one great way to do that. It’s an important tool for me, if you’ll forgive the expression, a narrative necessity.” Horror, at its core, is largely about the body – and it’s impossible to tell stories about the body without including sex.

As the genre has evolved, so has its utilization of sex. The aforementioned Dracula and 1941’s The Wolf Man saw carnal sexual desire depicted in a time when society repressed this kind of representation – particularly in women. In 1960, Psycho did some of the same, but this time, in the form of Norman Bates’ inability to process his own desire and identity after suffering such an abusive childhood at the hands of his mother.

The slasher sub-genre in particular is perhaps the one most driven by sex; usually led by a “final girl” who is pursued by a murderer (or two) with a knife or other phallic weapon of his choosing, she traditionally is the virginal, sensible girl of the group, the one who hasn’t spent her time on screen having sex or partying. Think Halloween, Alien, Friday the 13th, etc. While this trope is inherently problematic and slut-shamey, it has been subverted over the years with flicks like Scream, a self-aware genre commentary from Wes Craven in which our protagonist Sidney has sex and still survives in the end. It Follows, while certainly a genre-bender, similarly subverts our expectations and instead plays as an extended metaphor for the trauma of sexual assault (or STDs, as the debate goes).

Whether sex equals death, sex is a monster or a weapon, sex means a loss of control, or cannibalism and vampirism symbolize a carnal sexual awakening, the employment of sexuality in horror is totally integral to its existence. We wouldn’t have nearly as many nail-biting, spine-tingling stories if it wasn’t for the role of sex in these films. The genre has certainly come a long way since implying that all women who have sex are doomed to die, but it’s quite likely that the relationship between sex, violence, and horror will never wither – they’re just too interlocked to ever stand on their own.