Taylor 1 Kevin Taylor Professor Pivetti EN 102 May 2014 Women of

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Kevin Taylor
Professor Pivetti
EN 102
May 2014
Women of the Zombie World: George Romero’s Outlook On Second Wave Feminism
In 1968, George Romero began his Hollywood career on the set of Night of the Living
Dead, directing, writing, and even acting in the film. Produced on a shoestring budget, Night of
the Living Dead became a cult hit and is recognized as one of the first popular zombie films. It
is based on the premises of humans spontaneously, so it seems, transforming into “ghouls” (now
known as zombies) and mindlessly committing mass murder. The plot focuses on a group of six
people who have barricaded themselves in a deserted farmhouse, trying to survive the zombie
onslaught through the night. At first glance, it seems that Romero has simply directed a shallow
horror flick, a cheesy black and white film with bad acting and poor special effects. However,
Night of the Living Dead comments on the pressing issues of the 1960s—namely the women’s
right movement. When Barbra, Helen, and Judy fall victim the zombie onslaught they are made
powerless figures rooted in a male dominated environment. The film, then, despairs at the
restrictions imposed on women by a patriarchal society.
In order to examine gender issues in this movie, it is important to understand a general
progression of feminism along with the social climate of 1968. The history behind feminism is
incredibly convoluted, with overlapping motivations and ideals. In her book Feminism, June
Hannam broadly defines the term as referring to “A set of ideas that recognize in an explicit way
that women are subordinate to men and seek to address imbalances of power between the sexes”
(25). This is a good place to start; all feminist arguments boil down to this set of ideas, as
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Hannam explains. However, Night of the Living Dead was released in 1968, at the height of
Second Wave Feminism, so this definition doesn’t go into enough depth. First Wave Feminism,
which extended from approximately1850 through 1920, focused on the basic rights of education,
employment, and suffrage. Women then contributed greatly to the war effort during World War
II, as they replaced men in industrial jobs and augmented those men in the armed services.
When the war ended, women were pushed out of these roles, but their expectations had been
raised; they were no longer content with playing second fiddle to their male counterparts.
Hannam writes that, “As young women took advantage of the opportunities offered by an
expansion in higher education they were less content than their mothers to accept a future
bounded by domesticity” (174). These young women rejected their socially constructed
domesticity, and Second Wave Feminism was born with the goal of achieving not just legal
equality, but actual equality for women.
In 1968, we have both the production of Night of the Living Dead and the explosion of
second wave feminism. Romero relates these two topics through the Gothic mode, a literary
genre long connected to issues of gender. In the first issue of the journal Gothic Studies, Jerrold
E. Hogle cites The Castle of Otranto: A Gothic Story by Horace Walpole as the first explicit
example of the word “gothic” used in this context, characterized by supernatural horrors and
violent themes. In the late 1700s and early 1800s, the mode was extended through authors such
as Jane Austen, Charlotte Brontë, Mary Shelley, and Bram Stoker (Hogle 2). Common themes
and symbols unite the Gothic mode, many of which appear in Night of the Living Dead. For
example, the quaint farmhouse in which the survivors barricade themselves is a Gothic structure
of imprisonment, similar to the castle in Walpole’s The Castle of Otranto or Count Dracula’s lair
in Stoker’s Dracula. Furthermore, the monsters in Gothic literature are typically a byproduct of
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human mistakes—Dr. Frankenstein’s monster is a product of his narcissism in Shelley’s
Frankenstein, just as Mr. Hyde emerges from Dr. Jekyll’s darkest desires in Robert Louis
Stevenson’s The Curious Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. In the same fashion, the zombies in
Night of the Living Dead were caused by radiation from an explosion of a satellite—an example
of man’s ambitious failure (NOLD 58:10). The monster must confront the protagonists and force
them to confront their shortcomings, resulting in a physical struggle. Just as Dr. Frankenstein’s
monster haunts him throughout the remainder of his life, the zombies will not stop attacking the
six protagonists of the film until they breach the house and physically confront them. Finally,
and most importantly to this subject, the portrayal of women in Night of the Living Dead is
consistent with the Gothic mode. We see Barbra, Helen, and Judy as stationary products rather
than active members in their environment (this will be explored in more depth later). This is
particularly consistent with Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice, in which the five Bennet
daughters are constrained in their social class and are subsequently dependent on men throughout
the novel. Therefore, Romero’s film qualifies as a Gothic work, as it contains numerous
elements consistent with traditional Gothic literature.
So where do Night of the Living Dead and second wave feminism actually meet?
Stephanie Genz notes that, “Gothic is a sensitive cultural barometer that ‘is constantly being
reinvented in ways that address the realities of our current historical moment’” (Genz 2).
Therefore, Night of the Living Dead, when viewed as a Gothic film, can show the motivations
behind second wave feminism. June Hannam finds three defining characteristics of feminist
thinking, listing them as:
1. A recognition of an imbalance of power between the sexes, with women in a
subordinate role to men.
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2. A belief that women’s condition is socially constructed and therefore can be changed.
3. An emphasis on female autonomy. (Hannam 26)
Romero provides three main women in Night of the Living Dead, and each one highlights one of
the three characteristics listed by Hannam. Therefore, using the Gothic as a “cultural barometer,”
Romero examines second wave feminism as a whole, one characteristic at a time.
The first protagonist is Barbra, an attractive, blond, pious young woman. She embodies
the imbalance of power between the sexes from the very first scene of the film, when she and her
brother Johnny are putting flowers on their father’s grave. This illustrates Barbra’s insistent
desire to fulfill the demands of men, even when the men themselves have passed away; she
begins the film at the mercy of the patriarchy. After Barbra prays at the grave, Johnny reminds
her of when they were young and she used to be frightened by the cemetery. He realizes she still
is scared and capitalizes on it, telling her “They’re coming to get you, Barbra.” She reprimands
him, whining, “Stop it! You’re ignorant!” (NOLD 6:15). Her fright immediately makes her
inferior to Johnny; she has nothing to be scared of (at this point in the film), but she is powerless
to Johnny and to her irrational fear. She highlights this fear with her ironic accusation that
Johnny is “ignorant,” while she is the truly ignorant one for being scared. Thirty seconds later,
the first zombie appears, and Barbra is rendered absolutely helpless as he latches on to her. Note
that it wasn’t a zombie horde that gets the better of Barbra, but just a single, slow moving
zombie. A classic damsel in distress, she can’t save herself and cries for Johnny to come to her
rescue. Ultimately, Johnny frees her from the zombie’s grasp, but the tone of the movie has been
set—women are established as incapable and passive throughout the film.
Eventually, Barbra escapes to a serene farmhouse and locks herself inside. The
atmosphere of the house is immediately foreboding, and the isolation apparent. As more
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zombies congregate outside the house, Barbra’s hysteria mounts, until a black man named Ben
comes to her aid. His color is significant because African Americans still struggled to overcome
deep-rooted perceptions of inferiority. In fact, Barbra seems afraid of Ben when he first appears,
even though he is the only living human she has encountered since she barricaded herself in the
farmhouse. Robert K. Lightning, author of Interracial Tensions In Night of the Living Dead,
writes that, “We should be open to the possibility however that Barbra (product of a culture that
has doubtless imbued her with stories of threatening black men) fears Ben and chiefly because of
his race. One notes that she resists him as he takes her into the house” (5). The fact that a white,
upper-middle-class woman needed to be saved by a blue-collar black man shows the gender
discrepancy that Romero is scrutinizing. As the night drags on, and the number of zombies
outside increases, Barbra rapidly declines into a role of servitude. She is incapable of acting on
her own to help herself, finally falling into total hysteria when she screams at Ben, “I don’t
know! I don’t know! I don’t know what’s happening!” (16:30). Meanwhile, Ben is able to
compose himself and calmly decide how to fortify the farmhouse. Later on, Ben dismantles the
dining room table so he can use the wood in a barricade. Instead of helping him, Barbra picks up
the tablecloth that was strewn on the ground and folds it, clutching it to her chest (fig. 1). Barbra
is called into action against a horde of monsters, but is more interested in folding a tablecloth
instead. She is literally clutching ineffectual domesticity instead of adapting to the dire situation;
Ben is left to fend for both of them. As Barbra descends into utter delirium, the contrast between
her and Ben is made incredibly clear. Barbra—the woman of the house—is made powerless and
sedentary, a feature of the environment, while the man of house exhibits an authoritative ability
to effect the environment.
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Barbra clutching the tablecloth (fig. 1)
At this point in the film, with Barbra catatonic on the couch, it seems that Ben is going to
be fighting the zombies alone. That is, until two uninfected men emerge from the basement,
startling Barbra and prompting Ben to demand why they didn’t come up to help him fortify the
house. When questioned, one of them, Harry, unapologetically responds, “That’s the cellar, it’s
the safest place” (41:10). He leaves no room for anyone else’s opinion on the matter and it is
clear that he has made up his mind and nothing will change it. When Ben tries to reason with
him, Harry refuses to listen, painting him as a stubborn, proud character—a stereotype of 1960s
white masculinity that counterculture sought to invert. Eventually, Ben abandons his argument
with Harry, and he slinks back to the cellar where we meet his wife Helen.
It is immediately apparent that Harry and Helen’s relationship is strained. When Harry
justifies his reasons for insisting on staying in the cellar, he exclaims, “I didn’t know who they
[Ben and Barbra] were and I wasn’t about to take any unnecessary chances!” Helen,
exasperated, responds, “Of course not, dear” (49:30). There is no respect in this exchange—
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Harry doesn’t value Helen’s opinion enough to take it into consideration, and Helen is tired of
being treated as an inferior. The cinematography in this scene also illustrates the hierarchy of
this average American family. Helen is sitting at the bedside of her little girl while Harry
remains standing (fig. 2). Therefore, Henry is always above Helen’s level and talks down to her,
while Helen is always talking as his subordinate. When Helen discovers that there is a radio
upstairs, she becomes even more enraged and stands up to match Harry’s level, demanding,
“Take the boards off [the cellar] door!” (50:50) While Helen is speaking, Harry shows her no
respect by refusing to face her. However, when this insubordination becomes too much for
Harry, he throws his cigarette down, whirls to face Helen, and glares at her. Helen has no choice
but to sit down, once again showing she has a lower social rank than her husband.
Harry standing over Helen (fig. 2)
Helen’s predicament highlights Hannam’s second defining characteristic of feminism.
Her subordination to her husband is absolutely a social construction of this era—Romero implies
that women were expected to let their male counterpart be the head of the household, and were
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expected to respect his decisions without questioning them. Interestingly, this scene can be
better understood when compared with Mr. and Mrs. Rochester of Charlotte Brontë’s Jane Eyre.
Mr. Rochester locks Mrs. Rochester (who has gone insane) in the attic, apparently for her own
good. He proceeds to act as if she isn’t there, even as she is stark raving mad. What does this
symbolize? Mrs. Rochester serves as an outlet for Jane’s feminist desires, and represents the
imprisonment of the period’s gender roles. In The Madwoman In the Attic, Sandra Gilbert
explains, “Heavily enigmatic, ancestral relics wall [Jane Eyre] in; inexplicable locked rooms
guard a secret which may have some-thing to do with her; distant vistas promise an inaccessible
but enviable life” (Gilbert 348). In Night of the Living Dead, Helen is locked in a basement
instead of an attic, but the parallels still exist. She is kept in the basement by the power of her
husband while he makes the decisions, since it is assumed he knows best. The attic is the setting
where Jane is free to wish for a different life, and the basement is the scene of Helen trying to
stand up to her husband. Neither Jane nor Helen can achieve this life though—social
construction prevents it.
The third and final pair of the film is Tom and Judy, a younger couple who are very much
in love and totally devoted to each other. Indeed, their relationship serves as a direct contrast to
Helen and Harry, as they treat each other with respect and make joint decisions. The first
interaction we see between Tom and Judy is when they are about to split. Judy needs to go
downstairs and take care of Helen’s injured child, and Tom tenderly asks, “Will you do it?”
Judy, hesitant to leave Tom’s side, replies, “Do I have to?” Desperate to redress the tension
between Helen and Harry, Tom appeals to her love of him, almost pleading, “Do it, for me”
(NOLD 52:02). Of course, Judy can’t refuse his request, illustrating the high regard she has for
him. The romanticism behind their relationship is ironically furthered about ten minutes later
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when they sit down together to make Molotov cocktails. The scene opens with light string music
and a close-up shot of Judy smiling, while Tom remarks, “You always have a smile for me”
(1:04:20). They are also both sitting down, on the same level, which contrasts Harry’s treatment
of Helen in the cellar. While Judy privately tells Tom of her worries about the escape plan, Tom
assuages her fears gently, reassuring her that they are doing the right thing. The scene ends with
a passionate kiss, a symbol of togetherness and devotion.
At this point, it looks like Tom and Judy are the ideal couple. However, when Tom has
to leave the safety of the farmhouse to refuel the escape truck, the flaw in their relationship
becomes readily apparent. Tom courageously wades through the zombie horde, successfully
reaching the truck while Ben covers him with a repeating rifle. Everything is going smoothly
until Judy exclaims, “I’m going with him!” and dashes out the front door (1:09:25). She makes
it halfway to the pickup truck and freezes as the reality of her situation hits her. There is
absolutely no need for her to come, but she is so firmly bound to Tom that she can’t even
function when they aren’t together. The refueling of the truck goes horribly awry, as both Ben
and Tom are distracted by her unnecessary presence. The pickup catches fire when Tom tries to
speed away from the flames, and Judy is trapped with Tom when the truck explodes. Had she
not been excessively devoted to Tom, the refueling could have gone much smoother. We see
that Judy embodies Hannam’s third characteristic of feminism, which focuses on female
autonomy. Judy is far from independent and autonomous—instead, she entirely relies on Tom
and is tightly bound to him.
Romero uses these three women to represent the need for multifaceted feminism, and he
ties these ideas into a cohesive argument focused around the zombies. So, what does this Gothic
monster represent? When we look at the zombies physically, this is an easy question to answer.
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A scene midway through the film depicts the zombie horde in increasing numbers, and it is
readily apparent that almost every zombie is a white male (46:16). In this sense, the monster can
be understood as the patriarchal society that was prevalent in the 1960s, the force that exposed
the domestic flaws of these three women. The first female zombie seen in the entire film is
naked—having fallen to the patriarchy, her only purpose is to represent the sexual objectification
of a male dominated culture (fig. 3). The horde enjoys the darkness of the night and balks at fire,
seemingly afraid of it. The sexist tendencies of society would prefer to hide in the dark, out of
sight and mind, never to be exposed.
Female zombie, front and center (fig. 3)
Just as the zombie horde must be eradicated, Romero contends that the traditional
domestic ideals and values of the 1960s also have to be dealt with. Romero exposes these
shortcomings by portraying the three women in Night of the Living Dead as helpless in their
environment, all the while at the mercy of men. The film’s atmosphere of despair reflects the
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apparent hopelessness women faced in the 1960s—ultimately, women lacked control over
themselves and were virtually powerless next to men. Romero suggests second wave feminism
is therefore necessary, as women have to take explicit control of their lives to break the sexist
paradigm that was prevalent throughout society.
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Works Cited
Genz, Stephanie, and Benjamin Brabon. "Introduction: Postfeminist Gothic." Gothic Studies 9.2
(1999-2014): 1-6. Academic Search Premier. Web. 24 Apr. 2014
Gilbert, Sandra M., and Susan Gubar. The Madwoman In the Attic: The Woman Writer and the
Nineteenth-Century Literary Imagination. 2nd ed. New Haven: Yale UP, 2000. Print.
Hannam, June. Feminism. Taylor and Francis, 2013. Print.
Hogle, Jerrold E. "Introduction: Gothic Studies Past, Present, and Future." Gothic Studies 1.1
(1999): 1-6. Academic Search Premier. Web. 24 Apr. 2014.
Lightning, Robert K. "Interracial tensions in Night of the living dead." CineAction 53 (2000):
22-9. Literature Resource Center. Web. 22 May 2014.
Night of the Living Dead. Dir. George A. Romero. Prod. Karl Hardman and Russell Streiner. By
George A. Romero and John A. Russo. Perf. Duane Jones, Judith O'Dea, and Karl
Hardman. The Walter Reade Organization, 1968. Netflix. Web. Apr.-May 2014.