The parallel of puberty and werewolf is well-trodden territory, but Ginger Snaps focuses on the female body as a location rife with horror

Adolescence is a divisive experience. Some folks remember it fondly, while others try not to remember the vicious hellscape that was their high school halls. If you want to not so fondly remember days gone by, or get a window into life as a teen girl, Ginger Snaps (2000) is the grimly fun romp for you.

The parallel of puberty and werewolf is well-trodden territory, but Ginger Snaps manages a new take on the classic genre by focusing on the female body as a location rife with horror. Menstrual blood is on full display, and even years after the wave of torture porn that brought us Saw and Hostel, the sight of Ginger’s first period is unexpected and raw. The typical unruly teen body is made even more so with thick clumps of hair that have to be peeled off with blades, shifting bones and even a tail that Brigitte (Emily Perkins) and Ginger (Katharine Isabelle) have to find a way to hide during gym class.

The film also foregrounds the relationships that exist between women: sisters, mother and daughter, female friend and female rival. Men exist in the world, but the non-familial moments of tension and drama primarily occur with mean girl Trina instead of one of the generic high school boys. Brigitte and Ginger love each other with a wild intensity, and how this love shifts and shatters is the focus of the film. Brigitte cannot force herself to change, normally or monstrously, and while the werewolf changes are clearly a point of separation there is equal weight given to the mundane, expected changes occurring with her sister. Ginger embraces her sexuality, kisses boys and spends time away from Brigitte, which is as much a source of horror as her sister savaging neighborhood pets. It is a growing divide that ultimately cannot be conquered, and the separation of sisters is a more painful horror than any dead dog — and there are a lot of them.

For all its existential and body horror, Ginger Snaps is a dark comedy as much as anything else. The film opens with a juxtaposition of an idyllic suburbia and the sisters creating a series of macabre suicide photos in their borderline model home. Their mother seems to have wandered out of a Norman Rockwell painting; she cooks dinner that is eaten at the dinner table, makes seasonal household crafts and keeps her home absurdly clean. When she finds Ginger’s blood-stained underwear she is so excited that, after dutifully scrubbing out the stains by hand, she presents the family with a towering strawberry cake to celebrate Ginger’s transition into womanhood. She is also willing to burn it all down — literally — to protect her little girls from their murderous misdeeds. The school nurse is obliviously perky, ignoring Ginger’s absurd symptoms and putting them neatly into normal teen boxes. When Ginger hemorrhages blood in the bathroom, the nurse chirps, “I’m sure it seems like a lot of blood… it’s a period!” Her willful ignorance of the escalating symptoms is topped off by the directive to “play safe” while handing the embarrassed girls condoms. The only thing to do is laugh, a little anxiously, as things fall apart.

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