Jennifer’s Body


I dig Diablo Cody. I’€™m not too hip to admit that I follow her on twitter. I have watched Juno three times and rooted for her in the Oscars ™. I am not the horror fan that Zog is, but I enjoy the freedom filmmakers have in the genre. Imagining that freedom coupled with a trademark snark, I was willing to take a chance on Jennifer’€™s Body.
The Oscar winner doing some publicity.Starring Megan Fox, a front runner for Pot Pinup of the Year, Jennifer’€™s Body appears on the surface to be a straight forward film. It is situated between Jawbreaker, Carrie, Heathers, Scream and a whole host of edgy teen morgue comedies. But this one has an acclaimed writer!

As anything with Megan Fox, it is impossible to ignore her off screen antics and persona when watching her on film. In a recent New York Times article she said that her persona has been created as an offering for sacrifice. She talks of the characters she inhabits for the purposes of interviews. It is a fascinating article. Unfortunately, she hasn’€™t figured out how to translate that to her paying gigs. In Jennifer’€™s Body she has many more lines than she is used to, and sadly, it shows.

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Before we crucify a whole film on Megan Fox’€™s malformed thumbs, we should sit down, bud up and take it all in. As I mentioned, the fascinating part of horror films to me and my high mind is the over arching metaphors uncovered in the carnage. The genre, along with scifi, is fertile for social commentary and dark revelations. I tried. I tried very hard, but Ms. Cody wasn’€™t willing to meet me half way. While the movie is a crafted teenie film with sexual themes, the only one that popped out was a possible conflicted relationship between the writer and her own womanhood. Every month raw sexual power is renewed in a sacrifice of blood. Both alluring and powerful, the socially integrated and less confident alter-ego struggles with her relationship to the bombshell man eater. In the end, these two are unable to coexist. This menstrual meditation still felt somewhat hollow.

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The relationship between these poles, sex and responsibility, is the best fleshed out portion of the movie. When Jennifer’€™s friend, Amanda Seyfried, uncovers the demonic transgressions of her best friend, she is honestly conflicted. If you spin it together into some Fight Club-esque slurry (i.e. they are the same entity) it becomes more compelling. Joined together they create a moral quandary for the responsible psyche vs. the raw sexual power women posses, but the simplicity strains when set in a feature film.

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