When thinking of political horror, what comes to mind? Is it the capitalist blue-skulled aliens of Carpenter’s They Live, or perhaps the sinisterly center-left surgeons of Peele’s Get Out? Whatever it is, it probably is not femme fatale snake-human hybrids—until now.

The Snake Woman is an extremely obscure British horror flick from 1961. Despite its painfully dry pacing and more-than-occasional silliness, the film houses some ahead-of-its-time commentary on women’s mental health and the dangers of pseudo-science. Whether this was intentional or just a by-chance byproduct of attempted brainless schlock, The Snake Woman remains fascinating in today’s climate.

The Strange Premise Behind The Snake Woman

Directed by Sidney J. Furie from a screenplay by Orville H. Hampton, The Snake Woman tells the story of an 1890s doctor who tries to cure his pregnant wife’s unnamed mental illness by giving her snake venom. The townsfolk believe that the child might be demonic, and oh boy are they right. Years later, deaths by snakebite begin to pop up around the area. Maybe the baby did not just grow up into a woman, but a snake woman.

The movie itself is perfectly fine. Nothing to write home about, its execution is dry, if occasionally silly. If it were a little more polished, who knows? Maybe this could have been a Hammer-adjacent classic.

The acting is funny enough to ease viewers through the dry plot points. Everyone plays it up like crazy, and while the large chunks of talking can get tiresome, watching Brits yelling at each other in overdramatic amazement about snake curses is pretty fun. There is also some jaunty flute music!

Technical Limitations Date the Film

Probably the biggest issue with The Snake Woman is the filmmaking itself. The shots are uninteresting, the low-budget effects pretty lame by old-school monster movie standards. During the 1930s horror cycle, they might have held up, but by 1961, they just look outdated. However, as is typical with creature features of the time, there are some hilariously lackluster death sequences.

Let’s be real: not all 60s creature features can hold up to The Birds. You’re not gonna turn to The Snake Woman for intelligently executed scenes of arthouse horror. You stick it on to see some fucking snakes!

While you may not get the knee-slappingly schlocky death scenes of other films of the era, there is fun to be had in The Snake Woman. The titular woman is (somewhat disappointingly) not a snake-human hybrid, but rather a human cursed from birth who can “turn into” a snake. And by “turn into,” I mean quick-cutting from her to a slithering snake. It’s pretty funny, and the ridiculous death scenes make for top-notch—if fleeting—fun.

Unpacking The Snake Woman’s Accidental Feminist Themes

While feminism was nothing new to horror cinema by 1961 (see 1942’s Cat People for a great example), a random supernatural snake movie is probably the last place one would think to find it. But, shockingly, The Snake Woman could secretly be ahead of its time with some of the topics it tackles. The real question, though, is not whether or not this is political, because it inherently is, but how intentional that was.

The Snake Woman’s core premise, remember, concerns a pregnant woman who, because her husband deems her mentally ill, is given a radical, pseudo-scientific treatment against her will. This can obviously be read by modern audiences as a parable about what was dubbed “female hysteria” at the time, conjuring the specter of lobotomies, shock treatments, and other horrors prescribed for women suffering from depression—or common pregnancy symptoms—in the 1950s and ’60s. The movie serves as a cautionary tale for men making assumptions about women’s mental health.The townspeople who allow this to happen are cursed, and the patriarchy pays in blood for how the mother of the “snake woman” was treated.

The Femme Fatale Trope and Its Complications

Of course, the feminist leanings of The Snake Woman are complicated by the fact that the snake woman herself is a deadly femme fatale. While this archetype has been reclaimed as an empowering paradigm for feminist agency, it was initially born out of post-war fears about women’s independence, and had not yet shaken its problematic origins by the time the film went into production. So, while the movie can be read as a feminist allegory, this may have been far from the filmmaker’s intentions—or not crossed their minds at all.

The same can be said for The Snake Woman’s messaging around quack science. The snake venom used to “treat” a pregnant woman is the root of all the movie’s terrors. So, is it warning audiences of pseudo-science danger? Or, more likely, was it intended to simply be a dumb, cheaply made folk horror film about a killer snake lady?

Probably the latter.

There is nothing wrong with a film festival that takes chances on films. Programming festivals seem like an incredibly tedious job that will always leave people underwhelmed, no matter how great the programming is. There are two films I screened at Another Hole In The Head that left me wanting more and questioning their inclusion within the festival. I’m sure these films worked for whoever picked them, but for me, they fell completely flat. And one of them was my most anticipated film from the festival.

Kombucha Review

Luke (Terrence Carey) is a down-on-his-luck musician who is stuck on the edge of recognition and nothing. His partner, Elyse (Paige Bourne), begs him to get a “real job” after his ex-band member, Andy (Jesse Kendall), mysteriously resurfaces with a too-good-to-be-true job offer. After taking this new job, Luke finds himself happy with the influx of money, but void of personal growth. His new boss, Kelsey (Claire McFadden), forces Luke to drink their company’s trademark kombucha, or else he’s out of a job. It turns out this mystery drink may just turn Luke into a shell of a man. Literally.

Kombucha was my most anticipated film screening at Another Hole In The Head. I was stimulated by the film’s description, which was described as Office Space meets Cronenberg. From that descriptor, I was expecting some pretty out-there comedic moments mixed with gnarly grossout scenes. Kombucha failed on both of those aspects. The film’s handful of jokes were fart and poop jokes that felt beyond out of place. (And this is coming from someone who loves fart and poop jokes.) On top of that, the film’s “Cronenberg” moments were few and far between.

Flat Visual Style Undercuts Kombucha’s Strong Concept

Co-writers Geoff Bakken and Jake Myers, and directed by Jake Myers, have an excellent concept on their hands. Even the film’s commentary hits perfectly. But the film’s bland writing takes the oompf out of the overall effect. I wanted much more from this film, visually. Matt Brown’s cinematography isn’t bad…it’s competent enough. At its core, this film just feels very by-the-college-textbook; dead-center framing with After-Effects-like handheld plugins make this film feel flat beyond belief. Some of the practical effects look good; unfortunately, I was checked out by that point.

Weekend at the End of the World Review

Karl (Clay Elliott) is reeling from his ex-girlfriend’s proposal denial. His best friend, Miles (Cameron Fife), decides to take him to his deceased grandmother’s cabin for a best friends’ weekend. Once at the cabin, Karl and Miles find themselves in a world of trouble when they open a portal to another dimension. These two friends, along with their nosy neighbor, Hank (Thomas Lennon), must travel through strange worlds in order to save their own.

AI in Horror Films

I’m going to be blunt here. I am sick and fucking tired of AI in horror. Full stop. The first note I made in my notebook while watching this was, “AI intro for opening credits?” It was just a hunch. Maybe director Gille Klabin, who also handled the visual effects, just made opening credits that looked like AI. Okay, fine. I’ll keep watching.

By the time we get sloppily AI-generated tarot card transitions, I was over it. And when we got to the alternate dimension that looks like early-COVID Dall-E images, I was pissed. (Though I cannot confirm the world/visual aesthetic was created with AI, all signs point to yes.) I did some research and found an interesting interview with Klabin where he had positive and negative things to say about AI. Klabin even went so far as to say, “[AI is] not really good enough to be used in a final project.” That must have been a damn lie.

Is There an Acceptable Use of AI in Horror Cinema?

There are a few aspects of Weekend at the End of the World I enjoyed, but I could not, in good conscience, recommend this film. In Episode 53 of the Horror Press Podcast, we had this exact conversation. What is the extent of AI in a film that you can overlook? Do two interstitial AI images in Late Night with the Devil or a singular photo in V/H/S push it too far? What financial limit is there that is acceptable for a filmmaker to use AI as a helping hand? I don’t know the answer. All I know is I don’t want to waste my time watching a film that uses a hint of generative AI. It’s a slap in the face and lets me know my overall enjoyment is worthless to the filmmaker.