59 pages • 1 hour read
The contrast between justice and revenge serves as a key theme throughout My Heart Is a Chainsaw, particularly through Jade’s analysis of the relationship between the final girl and the antagonist of a slasher movie. Jade’s “Slasher 101” extra credit papers to Mr. Holmes affiliate the antagonist of the slasher with the notion that justice is equivalent to revenge: “[He] comes back to dispense his violent brand of justice, and he’s not listening to excuses or apologies because there’s not one single one that could ever be even halfway enough, his mission is carving and he’s not stopping until he’s stopped” (33). The antagonist kills to avenge a past wrong, allowing the audience of the film to root for the bad guy as well as fear him. However, Jade argues that within the ethics of the slasher film, revenge is not sufficient to enact justice. She sees the final girl as a necessary culmination of the antagonist’s quest for revenge, the consequence that the killer deserves after enacting violent justice. She writes that “he thought he was the one in charge. Wrong. He was fashioning his own death. He was building the perfect killing machine” (48). Only by putting the power back into the hands of the final girl can true justice occur. Jade frames this as a natural process, as though the final girl and the antagonist are two species in an ecosystem. She argues that the killer “rises to right the wrongs, then when it gets all carried away, nature spits up its governor, its throttle, its one-woman police force, its fiercest angel: the final girl. She’s the only cap the slasher cycle recognizes” (93). Jade compares the final girl to other forms of justice, such as the justice of the law and the justice of the divine. If the final girl is both a police force and an angel, she is granted authority to restore both secular and sacred justice.
Jade’s narrative voice often affiliates the justice of a slasher movie with biblical justice. Jade compares the violent retribution of a movie antagonist to the actions of God in Abrahamic religion, referencing the Old Testament narrative “where revenge comes not in a hulking shape lurking at the edge of the light but as a series of plagues that starts out feeling random, come to feel a lot more like justice, like the scales rebalancing. Same thing, different church” (161). By comparing her obsession with movies to a form of religion, Jade draws attention to the fact that spiritual traditions are united by their interest in justice. Both horror movies and the Bible ask people to question who is worthy of punishment and who should be allowed to prosper based on their ethics and behavior.
However, the binary between the vengeance of the killer and the justice of the final girl blurs and eventually collapses over the course of the novel. Mr. Holmes’s provocative question about the rape-revenge subgenre first hints at the instability of the divisions Jade has constructed between killers and final girls. Jade denies his points, arguing:
[T]he reason rape-revenge isn’t a slasher is that the slasher and the final girl would have to be the same person […] problem with that is that the final girl and the spirit of vengeance are forever locked in opposition, not the same jumpsuit. That’d—that’d be like Batman peeling his cowl off and being the Joker (184).
Jade draws upon another pop cultural metaphor—the superhero genre—to suggest that heroes and antagonists cannot share the same function within a story. However, Mr. Holmes’s thesis is ultimately validated by the narrative. Jade does become the final girl who defeats the killer Stacey Graves, but she also becomes a killer when she murders her father. The question of justice is therefore left ambiguous, leaving whether Jade’s crime was entirely justified open to interpretation.
Jade is obsessed with the idea of maternal protection throughout the novel, hinting that she feels betrayed by her mother because she failed to protect Jade from Jade’s father. At the very beginning of the novel when Tab Daniels makes fun of Jade’s hair and laughs at Rexall’s sexually lewd comments about her, Jade fantasizes about her mother protecting her: “Maybe if Jade’s mom were still in the picture, then she could have thrown that maternal elbow, glared that glare, but whatever” (13). Because Jade is disenchanted by her own mother abandoning her, she disparages the idea that mothers feel any sort of instinct to protect their young. She decides that Stacey Graves’s mother must have abandoned her as well, claiming:
[L]ife isn’t like the nature shows. In the documentaries the coaches play in biology, the mother rabbit will stand up to the snake or the coyote or the hawk when it’s after her baby rabbit, will stand up to them when she doesn’t have even a chance in all hell at fighting off this perfect predator, but she throws her little body into those claws and fangs all the same and kicks for all she’s worth, for all her baby’s worth to her, which is […] everything? (115).
While Jade doubts the protective instinct of mothers, she believes deeply in the protective power of final girls in horror movies. Unlike her mother, Kimmy, Jade has no doubt that Letha Mondragon will fight to save Proofrock. One of her “Slasher 101” papers hints that Jade affiliates the final girl with maternity, arguing that “the reason final girls fall so much when running away is that they’re like those mother birds who flap away from their nests like they’re hurt, to draw the predator off of their babies” (230) However, Jade recalls that “she never turned that one in, though. She burned it half-written and flushed the ashes, because no mothers are actually like that” (230-31). By comparing her own mother to mothers in nature and final girls in slasher films, Jade becomes disillusioned with the concept of maternal love.
Jade’s suppressed desire for a maternal figure becomes manifest in the antagonist, Stacey Graves. According to legend, Stacey is seeking her Indigenous mother who was murdered by her father and buried on the shores of the lake. In her interview with Christine Gillette, Jade learns this about the original Lake Witch:
[She] used to be Stacey Graves’s MOM, always walking around the shore line looking for her lost daughter, and taking any kids after dark back to her cave where she would […] make them drink her milk, which pretty much did the opposite of real mother’s milk (83-84).
The idea of desiccated breasts producing the opposite of mother’s milk establishes the idea that a witch is an inversion of maternity. While Stacey Graves’s mom does demonstrate maternal compassion and care, seeking out her lost daughter, the urban legend transforms her maternal love into something horrific and threatening. At the end of the novel, Jade speculates that it is the disruption of Stacey and her mother’s bond that has caused the killings. By removing Stacey from the cave where she was buried with her mother, the Founders of Terra Nova have released a vengeful spirit. Maternal love is thus a threatening force as well as a protective one.
The final moment of the story depicts a moment of pure and powerful maternal protection that provides Jade with a moment of hope after the horror and trauma she has undergone. As Jade floods the town, she sees a mother bear and her baby attempting to flee the forest fire and cross the dam. When they are pursued by a male bear, the mother turns around and roars defensively, proving that Jade was wrong about the nature documentaries being lies. Jade personifies the bear as she watches, thinking that the mother bear is saying:
If this bad man wants her baby, then he’s gonna have to come through her to get it, and Jade has to look up to the sky to keep her eyes from spilling, and for a moment the smoke parts enough for a grainy line of sunlight to filter through, find the palm of her hand when she reaches up to try to hold this feeling for as long as she can (398).
The mingling of this moment of pure maternal protectiveness with the image of the sunlight parting the smoke affiliates motherly love with hope. Jade seeks to hold onto the feeling, moved to tears by having seen clear evidence that some animals do selflessly defend their young, even when they are weaker than the threat. While Kimmy Daniels failed to protect Jade from Tab Daniels, despite knowing that he had raped her, Jade begins to hope that some mothers are different and do truly care about protecting the innocent.
The theme of Indigenous identity and its history in the American West is threaded throughout the narrative, exploring the impact of colonial violence and the legacy of racial stereotyping and discrimination against Indigenous Americans. The landscape around Proofrock is filled with reminders of its Indigenous history. Sven and Lotte ask one another when they see that the lake is called Indian Lake, “Does that mean there’s Indians in the lake, or does it mean that Indians made it?” (1), equating the burial grounds of Indigenous peoples with their legacy upon the landscape and flippantly acknowledging the history of white atrocity against Indigenous American ancestral sites. Sheriff Hardy eventually reveals another story of how the lake got its name, recounting:
[M]y dad says when it was filling, all these bow and arrow Indians stepped out of the trees on the other side of the valley on their painted ponies, feathers braided into their manes. The horses AND the half-naked bucks. They’d come to see the creek they’d always known turn into something bigger. That’s when everybody started calling it INDIAN Lake, not Glen Lake like it was supposed to have been (126).
According to Hardy’s version of the story, the survival of the Indigenous population over the landscape’s history has defined the lake, superseding the European name.
Colonial violence is not consigned to the past, but an active force in contemporary Proofrock, symbolized by the Founder’s development, Terra Nova. The name of the development means “New World,” referencing the term that European colonizers used to refer to North America. The Founders claim to admire Proofrock and Western history. Letha Mondragon’s wealthy family even drives a boat with an Indigenous name—the Umiak being a term for an Inuit whaling boat. However, this admiration for the narrative of Western expansion covers up the colonial violence that accompanied this history. Jade records that “what one of the incoming residents said, kind of famously was that when there are no more frontiers you have to make then yourself, don’t you?” (18). By treating Proofrock as a “frontier” in the same way that Europeans did during the colonization of America, the Founders reenact colonial violence—depleting the town’s natural resources and displacing burial grounds, carelessly unleashing the murderous Stacey Graves, just as European settlers intentionally spread the disease smallpox. Similarly, when the Dutch tourist Lotte playfully claims that the lights they see around the lake might be from Indigenous tribes planning a revolt, her boyfriend Sven jokes “until John Wayne Gacy hears about it” (6). Sven confuses American actor John Wayne, whose cowboy characters often killed Indigenous people in Western films, with serial killer John Wayne Gacy. The humorous slippage between these two people hints that the cowboys that films valorize as heroes can also be seen as violent serial killers from an Indigenous perspective. By upholding the image of the West as a frontier and considering the colonizers who killed Indigenous tribes to be heroes, Jones suggests that colonial violence continues to perpetuate its ideals onto contemporary Indigenous communities.
Jones suggests throughout the novel that contemporary Indigenous people often see themselves as part of a dead or past culture who are inevitably the victims of violence. One of the major reasons that Jade does not want to admit that her father sexually abused her as a child is because she does not want to play into a racist stereotype. She snaps at Hardy: “Fathers don’t do that to daughters, not even fathers as sucky as mine, as Indian as mine” (174). Tab Daniels often plays into negative stereotypes about Indigenous communities. He claims that he was born too late and that if he had been alive 100 years ago, he would have been able to fight back against colonization. However, Jade doubts his story and believes he still would have had an alcohol addiction. At the July 4 movie, Tab Daniels paints his face like Tonto from The Lone Ranger and has his friend Rexall wear a war bonnet. Jade does not see this as an authentic way of connecting with their cultural identity, but a sign that her father has internalized and embraced racist stereotypes.
Gender informs Jade’s perspective on her own cultural identity. When Shooting Glasses tells her that the Indigenous construction worker Cody also liked to claim that he was born too late, Jade counters that she wishes she was alive in the 1980s, not 100 years ago when “some boys from town would play a trick on me […] they’d throw me out on the water, and I’d run away into legend” (205). Jade references the urban legends about Stacey Graves, associating the history of Indigenous girlhood with being the victim of violence. While Indigenous men can fantasize about fighting back against colonizers, the only figure that Jade must identify with in the past is a girl who experienced neglect, abuse, and violence. When Jade believes she is about to die underneath the pile of dead elk, she sees Cody’s body beside her. She thinks:
[N]ow him and Jade are just two more Indians at the bottom of the pile of massacred Indians. They’re circling the drain of history together, while Letha and Shooting Glasses and Mismatched Gloves are over at some other drain, with harps and angel food cake (335).
Jade and Cody’s Indigenous identity affiliates them with the dead animals, dehumanizing them and making their death as inevitable as water going down a drain. While Jade imagines Letha and Shooting Glasses going to a heavenly afterlife, Jade’s perspective on her own Indigenous identity suggests that she sees her death not as a tragedy, but as a historical inevitability. Jade’s survival at the end of the novel defies this stereotype, suggesting that Indigenous girlhood can represent heroism and survival rather than only victimhood and tragedy.
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