Ginger Snaps

Poster found on Etsy.

Has it been twenty years already?  I remember reading about Ginger Snaps in the pages of Fangoria before it came out.  The film's novelty was readily apparent; its quality was not.  It could have sizzled and faded.  I had no idea that two decades later, it would be couched as a generational barbican from which other teen-centric genre affairs are judged.  Would it be improper to call it a contemporary of The Lost Boys?  How about The Craft?  Because I don't think so.  Granted, I didn't experience adolescence in the 80's and I was never a goth chick, but this lycanthropicture nails the ticklish discomfiture of tatterdemalion youth.

Wait, tatterdemalion?  Goddamn it, I'm throwing my thesaurus away.  What I'm getting at ~ I fancy Ginger Snaps.  It's excellent.  I'm not certain that a synopsis is necessary, but here goes nothing.  The Fitzgerald sisters are inseparable.  They are both ostracized at school, they are both mocked for their appearance, and they share a morbid, trenchant sense of humor.  "Dark" would be an understatement.  Hell, they often fantasize about their suicides ("Out by 16 or dead in the scene.").  Ginger, the slightly older sister, is blossoming into her catamenial cycle (forgive the dopey turn of phrase) a bit late, but she's still developing ahead of Brigitte.  As you can infer, Brigitte is the younger sibling, and she feels a twinge of resentment when she sees Ginger beginning to chum with boys.

See, that's what the best horror films establish.  Character!  These are people with personalities and stories to tell.  And that's without adding fucking werewolves to the mix.  While loitering past the bewitching hour, Ginger is attacked by a sinewy, brutish beast.  Ginger Snaps runs with one of the most clever metaphors in the history of horror cinema.  I don't need to drub your skullcap with the parallels of transformation that our titular lead undergoes, at once turning into a woman and a werewolf.  The script isn't too forceful with its subtext either.  We are given plenty of breathing room to find our own meaning and make our own connections.

There are so many damn things I love about this flick.  You don't have to be a teenaged girl to enjoy it.  Moreover, it never forgets that it's an old-fashioned monster mash.  The practical effects are tubular (props to director John Fawcett for taking an anti-CGI stance), the autumnal atmosphere is Halloween-ready, and the gore looks gory.  But is the acting up to snuff?  Um, yeah.  You will believe that Emily Perkins and Katharine Isabelle are sisters.  I want to go back to high school and hang out with them in an alternate dimension.  I mean, without the werewolf carnage.  Riveting!  Bruce Willis has done it again!  Magnificent!