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“Castle Rock”: Annie Wilkes and Healthy Representation of Mental Illness in the Horror Genre

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This article contains spoilers for Castle Rock (mostly the show’s latter half). 

Having enjoyed season one of Castle Rock, my expectations for season two were high. When I learned that we would be following Annie Wilkes from Stephen King’s Misery, my intrigue intensified, curious as to the type of narrative we would see. What won me over with Castle Rock’s first season was its world building and mystery; from all the King references and Easter eggs, to the chilling presence of Bill Skarsgård, I was wonderfully immersed in the spookiness of Castle Rock.

However, season two hasn’t really been that way for me. Instead, I find myself far more interested in its protagonist, rather than the overall creepy atmosphere. I watched Misery years ago and enjoyed it; watching the first two episodes of Castle Rock season two, I noted a sense of tension surrounding Annie. I figured that layers of her character would be revealed over time, and we would get some interesting twists regarding her backstory. 

It is alluded to early on through physical and vocal mannerisms that Annie is someone who struggles with mental illness. Now the horror genre doesn’t have the greatest history in portraying mental illness – but when it does it right, it does so masterfully. What I didn’t expect from this new season of Castle Rock and its protagonist Annie Wilkes, was to see such a moving, heartbreaking, and solid representation of what it means to suffer with mental illness.

As we follow Annie throughout the show’s beginning episodes, we see a disconnect between her and everyone else who is not her daughter Joy. Early on it is hard to tell whether or not Annie’s actions will dive into mental illness tropes, but thankfully, it doesn’t take long for Castle Rock to fully flesh her out. While the writing behind Annie demonstrates a respectful approach to mental illness, the true recognition for such representation goes to actor Lizzy Caplan; her portrayal of Annie is not only brilliant in adding to the story’s tension and mystery, but superb in how she conveys the character’s pain.

In a special feature found on a collector’s edition DVD of Misery, forensic psychologist Reid Meloy states that Annie suffers from bipolar disorder, severe borderline personality disorder with schizoid, and has schizotypal and obsessive compulsive features. Among these disorders there are a variety of symptoms, such examples being intense anxiety, fear of abandonment, strong emotional reactions, a lack of interest in social interactions, and derealization.

Castle Rock’s Annie displays each of these symptoms at various times; she is anxious around most people, has a warped sense of how cold the world can be, and is fearful of losing Joy, therefore she embodies an almost constant state of anxiety. Caplan never over delivers on these symptoms, and even during the show’s supernatural elements, she always maintains Annie in a grounded manner. Throughout numerous stories, it can be common for mental illness to be portrayed as melodrama tragedy; in this manner of representation, mental illness symptoms can be misconstrued or flat out false. Because of this lack of psychological depth, the severity of mental illness is undermined.

Castle Rock provides further depth into Annie in the episode titled “The Laughing Place”. It is here where we learn more of the events and environment that has shaped Annie. We see that she deals with dyslexia and later hits a girl who makes fun of her. Sitting down with her parents and the school’s principal, the principal makes the recommendation to speak to a psychiatrist, angering the parents and pulling Annie out of school.

From there, neither of her parents ever acknowledge Annie’s mental health. Her mother displays behavior that is similar to that of Annie in Misery; over time, the audience begins to recognize the mother’s growing detachment from reality. When the mother eventually tries to kill herself and Annie, distraught from her husband having an affair, Annie comes out of the attempt mentally scathed. Living with her dad and his new girlfriend Rita, who was once Annie’s tutor, her despair intensifies over time. Mind you, even though this sequence of events takes place over one episode, each scene is well crafted and never rushed. The audience sees Annie in a state where she is in need of help, but is also a delightful kid. As the episode progresses, we begin to see her internal conflict blossom, that joyful spirit dissipating.

Annie is a complicated character given her actions within the narrative. Early on in the show we see her kill Ace, later learning how she accidentally killed her father, attempted to kill his girlfriend Rita, and almost killed their baby (who we learn is Joy and Annie decided to take as her own). In many other stories, these actions would be used to further dramatize Annie’s mental illness; with Caplan’s Annie, however, we are able to recognize where Annie has done wrong, while still obtaining a sense of sympathy for her. This is because we have that dedicated time to see Annie’s past, to see how her family broke apart and how her parents ignored her mental health. The show makes an effort to evade dangerous tropes like “she was just crazy and that’s why she killed him,” but instead, shows how sane she can be. Her decision-making may not always be rational, but she is in control of her actions. 

In the episode “The Mother”, Joy confronts Annie about the past and what the latter has done. It is here where Annie decides to take down her walls, not only acknowledging those actions, but also acknowledging the struggles that go on within her. At one point Annie says, “I’m not normal Joy. There’s a whole lot wrong with me and very little right. But the thing that keeps me on the right side of the double yellow line is knowing how to love one thing, and that’s you.” 

I think this scene is very moving in how Annie has to confront Joy and bare herself to her. Given the various tropes utilized throughout stories of the past, I think it’s significant how Annie demonstrates her ability to own up to what she has done. The show doesn’t fall into a “she’s just crazy” trope, but presents a person who is fully aware of their actions and who they are.

What Castle Rock and Caplan have done with Annie is phenomenal. As someone who has spent their life with struggles of mental illness, I have always recognized the importance of healthy representation. The conversation surrounding mental health is still a battle. Whereas many of us are making an effort to go to therapy, seek help, and open up to others, there are still those in the world that deny the horrors of mental illness.

The portrayal of Annie’s mental illness is an important contribution to storytelling. Even with horror’s rocky history depicting mental illness, it is also the one genre to push the conversation, as well as make improvements regarding representation. As we move forward with our stories, I think characters like Castle Rock’s Annie Wilkes will make an impact on how we represent those who struggle with mental illness.

Author’s Note: My take on the character is that of my own opinion. Living with mental illness, as well as knowing many people in my life who struggle with different disorders, my goal is to provide an insightful and respectful take on the character of Annie Wilkes – as well as be respectful to all those who struggle with mental illness.

Michael Pementel is a pop culture critic at Bloody Disgusting, primarily covering video games and anime. He writes about music for other publications, and is the creator of Bloody Disgusting's "Anime Horrors" column.

Editorials

What’s Wrong with My Baby!? Larry Cohen’s ‘It’s Alive’ at 50

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Netflix It's Alive

Soon after the New Hollywood generation took over the entertainment industry, they started having children. And more than any filmmakers that came before—they were terrified. Rosemary’s Baby (1968), The Exorcist (1973), The Omen (1976), Eraserhead (1977), The Brood (1979), The Shining (1980), Possession (1981), and many others all deal, at least in part, with the fears of becoming or being a parent. What if my child turns out to be a monster? is corrupted by some evil force? or turns out to be the fucking Antichrist? What if I screw them up somehow, or can’t help them, or even go insane and try to kill them? Horror has always been at its best when exploring relatable fears through extreme circumstances. A prime example of this is Larry Cohen’s 1974 monster-baby movie It’s Alive, which explores the not only the rollercoaster of emotions that any parent experiences when confronted with the difficulties of raising a child, but long-standing questions of who or what is at fault when something goes horribly wrong.

Cohen begins making his underlying points early in the film as Frank Davis (John P. Ryan) discusses the state of the world with a group of expectant fathers in a hospital waiting room. They discuss the “overabundance of lead” in foods and the environment, smog, and pesticides that only serve to produce roaches that are “bigger, stronger, and harder to kill.” Frank comments that this is “quite a world to bring a kid into.” This has long been a discussion point among people when trying to decide whether to have kids or not. I’ve had many conversations with friends who have said they feel it’s irresponsible to bring children into such a violent, broken, and dangerous world, and I certainly don’t begrudge them this. My wife and I did decide to have children but that doesn’t mean that it’s been easy.

Immediately following this scene comes It’s Alive’s most famous sequence in which Frank’s wife Lenore (Sharon Farrell) is the only person left alive in her delivery room, the doctors clawed and bitten to death by her mutant baby, which has escaped. “What does my baby look like!? What’s wrong with my baby!?” she screams as nurses wheel her frantically into a recovery room. The evening that had begun with such joy and excitement at the birth of their second child turned into a nightmare. This is tough for me to write, but on some level, I can relate to this whiplash of emotion. When my second child was born, they came about five weeks early. I’ll use the pronouns “they/them” for privacy reasons when referring to my kids. Our oldest was still very young and went to stay with my parents and we sped off to the hospital where my wife was taken into an operating room for an emergency c-section. I was able to carry our newborn into the NICU (natal intensive care unit) where I was assured that this was routine for all premature births. The nurses assured me there was nothing to worry about and the baby looked big and healthy. I headed to where my wife was taken to recover to grab a few winks assuming that everything was fine. Well, when I awoke, I headed back over to the NICU to find that my child was not where I left them. The nurse found me and told me that the baby’s lungs were underdeveloped, and they had to put them in a special room connected to oxygen tubes and wires to monitor their vitals.

It’s difficult to express the fear that overwhelmed me in those moments. Everything turned out okay, but it took a while and I’m convinced to this day that their anxiety struggles spring from these first weeks of life. As our children grew, we learned that two of the three were on the spectrum and that anxiety, depression, ADHD, and OCD were also playing a part in their lives. Parents, at least speaking for myself, can’t help but blame themselves for the struggles their children face. The “if only” questions creep in and easily overcome the voices that assure us that it really has nothing to do with us. In the film, Lenore says, “maybe it’s all the pills I’ve been taking that brought this on.” Frank muses aloud about how he used to think that Frankenstein was the monster, but when he got older realized he was the one that made the monster. The aptly named Frank is wondering if his baby’s mutation is his fault, if he created the monster that is terrorizing Los Angeles. I have made plenty of “if only” statements about myself over the years. “If only I hadn’t had to work so much, if only I had been around more when they were little.” Mothers may ask themselves, “did I have a drink, too much coffee, or a cigarette before I knew I was pregnant? Was I too stressed out during the pregnancy?” In other words, most parents can’t help but wonder if it’s all their fault.

At one point in the film, Frank goes to the elementary school where his baby has been sighted and is escorted through the halls by police. He overhears someone comment about “screwed up genes,” which brings about age-old questions of nature vs. nurture. Despite the voices around him from doctors and detectives that say, “we know this isn’t your fault,” Frank can’t help but think it is, and that the people who try to tell him it isn’t really think it’s his fault too. There is no doubt that there is a hereditary element to the kinds of mental illness struggles that my children and I deal with. But, and it’s a bit but, good parenting goes a long way in helping children deal with these struggles. Kids need to know they’re not alone, a good parent can provide that, perhaps especially parents that can relate to the same kinds of struggles. The question of nature vs. nurture will likely never be entirely answered but I think there’s more than a good chance that “both/and” is the case. Around the midpoint of the film, Frank agrees to disown the child and sign it over for medical experimentation if caught or killed. Lenore and the older son Chris (Daniel Holzman) seek to nurture and teach the baby, feeling that it is not a monster, but a member of the family.

It’s Alive takes these ideas to an even greater degree in the fact that the Davis Baby really is a monster, a mutant with claws and fangs that murders and eats people. The late ’60s and early ’70s also saw the rise in mass murderers and serial killers which heightened the nature vs. nurture debate. Obviously, these people were not literal monsters but human beings that came from human parents, but something had gone horribly wrong. Often the upbringing of these killers clearly led in part to their antisocial behavior, but this isn’t always the case. It’s Alive asks “what if a ‘monster’ comes from a good home?” In this case is it society, environmental factors, or is it the lead, smog, and pesticides? It is almost impossible to know, but the ending of the film underscores an uncomfortable truth—even monsters have parents.

As the film enters its third act, Frank joins the hunt for his child through the Los Angeles sewers and into the L.A. River. He is armed with a rifle and ready to kill on sight, having divorced himself from any relationship to the child. Then Frank finds his baby crying in the sewers and his fatherly instincts take over. With tears in his eyes, he speaks words of comfort and wraps his son in his coat. He holds him close, pats and rocks him, and whispers that everything is going to be okay. People often wonder how the parents of those who perform heinous acts can sit in court, shed tears, and defend them. I think it’s a complex issue. I’m sure that these parents know that their child has done something evil, but that doesn’t change the fact that they are still their baby. Your child is a piece of yourself formed into a whole new human being. Disowning them would be like cutting off a limb, no matter what they may have done. It doesn’t erase an evil act, far from it, but I can understand the pain of a parent in that situation. I think It’s Alive does an exceptional job placing its audience in that situation.

Despite the serious issues and ideas being examined in the film, It’s Alive is far from a dour affair. At heart, it is still a monster movie and filled with a sense of fun and a great deal of pitch-black humor. In one of its more memorable moments, a milkman is sucked into the rear compartment of his truck as red blood mingles with the white milk from smashed bottles leaking out the back of the truck and streaming down the street. Just after Frank agrees to join the hunt for his baby, the film cuts to the back of an ice cream truck with the words “STOP CHILDREN” emblazoned on it. It’s a movie filled with great kills, a mutant baby—created by make-up effects master Rick Baker early in his career, and plenty of action—and all in a PG rated movie! I’m telling you, the ’70s were wild. It just also happens to have some thoughtful ideas behind it as well.

Which was Larry Cohen’s specialty. Cohen made all kinds of movies, but his most enduring have been his horror films and all of them tackle the social issues and fears of the time they were made. God Told Me To (1976), Q: The Winged Serpent (1982), and The Stuff (1985) are all great examples of his socially aware, low-budget, exploitation filmmaking with a brain and It’s Alive certainly fits right in with that group. Cohen would go on to write and direct two sequels, It Lives Again (aka It’s Alive 2) in 1978 and It’s Alive III: Island of the Alive in 1987 and is credited as a co-writer on the 2008 remake. All these films explore the ideas of parental responsibility in light of the various concerns of the times they were made including abortion rights and AIDS.

Fifty years after It’s Alive was initially released, it has only become more relevant in the ensuing years. Fears surrounding parenthood have been with us since the beginning of time but as the years pass the reasons for these fears only seem to become more and more profound. In today’s world the conversation of the fathers in the waiting room could be expanded to hormones and genetic modifications in food, terrorism, climate change, school and other mass shootings, and other threats that were unknown or at least less of a concern fifty years ago. Perhaps the fearmongering conspiracy theories about chemtrails and vaccines would be mentioned as well, though in a more satirical fashion, as fears some expectant parents encounter while endlessly doomscrolling Facebook or Twitter. Speaking for myself, despite the struggles, the fears, and the sadness that sometimes comes with having children, it’s been worth it. The joys ultimately outweigh all of that, but I understand the terror too. Becoming a parent is no easy choice, nor should it be. But as I look back, I can say that I’m glad we made the choice we did.

I wonder if Frank and Lenore can say the same thing.

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