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‘Phenomena’ and the Unconventional Femininity of Jennifer Corvino

While exploring Dario Argento’s impressive filmography of Italian supernatural horror and Giallo films, I’d often heard of one peculiar entry in his work: Phenomena.  While the film has a wealth of material to inspire conversation, my interest lies primarily in Jennifer Corvino (Jennifer Connelly) — specifically, the portrayal of her femininity. An apparent dichotomy lies within Jennifer’s character: her straightforward presentation as a young, highly feminine ingenue contrasts her incredibly liminal abilities.

Jennifer is the young daughter of a famous American actor. She’s sent to a Swiss academy, the Richard Wagner Academy for Girls, headed by the strict Frau Bruckner. However, Jennifer’s arrival couldn’t have come at a worse time. A killer roams the streets, seemingly abducting and slaughtering young women. Thankfully Jennifer’s not your average girl. She possesses the power to influence and control insects. An explanation for her power is never revealed to audiences. Instead, Argento focuses on Jennifer’s budding friendship with famous entomologist John McGregor (Donald Pleasance). Together, they attempt to uncover the mystery behind the killings. As Jennifer’s powers come to light, tensions rise at her school.

Argento grants Jennifer all the trappings of a conventional young and innocent girl. Her wardrobe consists primarily of white and flowing fabrics — a representation of her innocence. Her costuming works magnificently in wide shots where Argento frames Jennifer roaming the countryside. It also complements the film’s more gruesome scenes. White, after all, makes blood vividly pop. Connelly’s performance emphasizes an adolescent girl’s wide-eyed, curious, and anxious attitude on her own for the first time. 

Jennifer Connelly as Jennifer Corvino making a phone call from the girls academy in Phenomena (1985).

Jennifer’s abilities diverge dramatically from her innocent attributes. Her power over insects primarily manifests itself with flies and maggots. Traditionally associated with death, the often despised bugs are Jennifer’s greatest allies. We learn that the insects crave the decaying flesh of their victims. The close-ups of the wriggling, pale maggots work much like the revealed fingerprints of a killer in a traditional murder mystery. Every time Jennifer discovers the maggots, she gets closer to uncovering the killer’s location. Furthermore, her connection with the minds of insects allows her to watch the victims’ last moments. These terrifying visions manifest as perilous sleepwalking episodes, prompting Jennifer to wander through the academy halls and, at one point, on the roof. 

Like many female protagonists reaching puberty, Jennifer’s school life soon becomes rife with bullying, which isn’t an uncommon trope in horror. The bullying further isolates Jennifer, bringing her closer to the killer’s clutches. The primary reason she’s bullied derives from her greatest strength: her abilities. After fellow students uncover Jennifer’s journal detailing her powers, the girls surround her, shouting out in malicious glee, “We worship you! We worship you!” As Jennifer’s emotions turn negative, a swirling cloud of buzzing flies descend on the school in a vengeful swarm. Lights surround Jennifer as if rays of heavenly light have enveloped a saint. “I love you,” she declares dreamily. “All of you.” We then see the insects’ faces and those of the anxious and disbelieving crowd of bullies. 

Frau Bruckner later interprets the momentous scene as a monstrous moment. She uses the episode as justification for sending Jennifer to a psychiatric facility. In her reasoning, she exclaims, “The Bible also refers to the Devil as Beelzebub, which means Lord of the Flies. Look at her, the Lady of the Flies.” 

Like many real and fictional women before her, Jennifer’s demonization stems from her power and agency. However, the film refuses to punish her for it. Instead, Jennifer remains the heroine, the ultimate victor over the actual killer. Whereas other stories might have relegated her either to the monstrous feminine, as conceived by psychoanalyst Barbara Creed, or the hapless victim, Jennifer embodies both the heroine and monster, uncanny and domestic, witch and schoolgirl. In a decade of backlash against marginalized individuals, including women, it’s a provocative and empowering role — decidedly ahead of its time. It wasn’t until the mid to late ‘90s that the trend of feminine empowerment returned with the witch archetype, as evidenced in The Craft and Practical Magic

Jennifer’s power and association with insects, particularly figures of death and decay, paint a fascinating portrayal of a divergent female protagonist. Her actions and abilities are never subverted into a narrative of male anxiety over female power. Instead, Jennifer’s magic, the “phenomena” of the film’s title, allows her own feminine hero’s story to unfold. Her abilities allow silenced women and the victim’s final hidden moments to be revealed.

While many “female power” horror films now proliferate in popular culture, such as The Craft, Crimson Peak, or Jennifer’s Body, Phenomena’s heroine stands out for the oddity of her contradictions. She is life and death, yet the possession of her power is never demonized by any save for the film’s villains. The narrative never questions her moral agency in the film, and her powers never threaten her humanity. Instead, her liminality, her position between our world and the hereafter, makes her the only suitable heroine in the film. As an 80s protagonist, Jennifer provides a fascinating example of early horror feminist complexity in Argento’s vast filmography. Jennifer’s gothic leanings lend an interesting old-school flavor to a more modern decade in a field often preoccupied with the slasher’s final girl.

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