I recently provided a blurb to the New York Times when they ran a piece about the 50th anniversary of Stephen King’s Carrie. (More accurately, I sent them a rambling paragraph that they pruned into a blurb; this is standard.) When the piece ran, I immediately got an amused text from my friend Rob. “You sided with the bad guy in Carrie?!”
It occurred to me in that moment that most people who read Carrie aren’t rooting for Chris Hargensen. Chris— the popular girl who drives Carrie to madness— is cartoonishly cruel. In the book, she’s described as a willowy black-haired menace, a sadistic cheerleader who hunts weaklings for sport. Which happens to be the exact description of the girl who bullied me as a high school freshman, a pom-pom wielding terrorist of whom I was genuinely afraid. (I just Googled her out of curiosity; she is still outrageously hot at 47, and even now I felt a wave of sickness when I saw her face.)
But Jenny, despite my adolescent trauma, I love Chris Hargensen. I love how gross and nasty and manipulative she is. She’s fearless and potty-mouthed and calls “nice” people out for being fake. She wears wine-colored velvet hot pants and silk blouses with no bra, “a dirty old man’s dream,” as King writes. I understand why she is disgusted by a “dumb pudding” like Carrie White who doesn’t ever fight back (until she does). I understand why a lot of bitches are the way they are, even if I myself would never behave that way. I don’t just empathize with villains, I feel represented by them in some strange way.
I’ve always been this way. When I was little, I loved Miss Hannigan from Annie (1982). When I’d play with my Cabbage Patch Kids, I’d pretend that I was Miss Hannigan and they were the orphans. My kids and I re-watched this movie last week and I assumed that I would have a different perspective now that I’m a nurturing, tenderhearted mother of three. Of course I would root for sweet little Annie and not the drunk harridan holding her captive! Well, Jenny, I’m sorry to say that I am even more of a Miss Hannigan apologist now. First of all, none of those kids were actually scared of her. They openly mock and taunt her during the “Little Girls” number, forcing her to literally hide from them and self-soothe with a bottle of gin. Miss Hannigan is totally outnumbered, and she knows it. She’s dealing with a mob of exceptionally agile orphans who could easily kill her if they wanted to. One cartwheel to the face, and it’s lights out! And even after all the abuse she’s endured, Miss Hannigan tries to save Annie’s life at the end when she brains Rooster with her purse. She’s a hero!
While writing this, I looked up another villain I loved as a kid— Madame Medusa from The Rescuers, who is SCARY! Jenny, I discovered a fascinating bit of trivia: Madame Medusa was modeled after the animator’s ex-wife, Phyllis Bounds, a writer/producer who apparently loved to drink and smoke and was described as an “aging sexpot.” I believe that this, right here, is the key to why I feel connected to so many of the demonesses of pop culture: In many cases, they are broad interpretations of actual real-life women who were probably more interesting than evil. Madame Medusa was drawn by a dude with a bone to pick; it seems so obvious now.
I didn’t realize it at the time, but I can see now I did the same thing when I created the character of Jennifer Check in Jennifer’s Body. I repurposed my own bully as a murderous, cannibalistic succubus. I exaggerated her worst qualities to serve the story. It was probably therapeutic for me as well. But as much as I hoped viewers would recoil at Jennifer’s evil deeds, I also hoped they’d delight in her villainy. Maybe even admire it a little bit; maybe even feel seen.
Lucy Van Pelt has always been cast as the villain of Peanuts but I've always viewed her as the lone pragmatist in a sea of fools and think she's an unsung hero. And who hasn't thrown themselves at a dreamy musician who could not care less?