What I find interesting about the film in many ways is not the commentary on writing in general but the commentary of writing for someone. After all, the office group are trying to appease the Old Ones, the Ancient Gods, with a repetitive and specific story, and the requirements of such make the protagonists fit into extremely narrow confines in order to appease these dangerous and higher beings. I feel that Cabin in the Woods is less about writing and more about appeasing and, if these office scenes can be seen as the writers in this metaphor, than those being appeased must be the audience. Yes, the sadism of the act of writing is probably one of the major points of the film, the idea that a writer can dream up believable fictional creations and subsequently make them suffer in new and exciting ways, but the film also sets its sights on those wanting to engage such material as well. In this sense, Whedon and Goddard draw heavily from Grant Morrison’s final issues on Animal Man.
In the wake of audience reactions to Mass Effect 3, as I have discussed before (a couple of times), I found this film interesting when considering the eager audience. Whedon himself has discussed the frustrating evolution of the fan in the wake of the Internet and how it appears that, above all, writers must now cater more than ever. If ever there was a film about such fearful succumbing, it must be Cabin in the Woods. The characters in the horror part of the film have two primary focuses: their adherence to a specific role and their choice in how they die. According to the ritual outlined at the end, there must be a certain number a sacrifices that occur in a rough order. Four must die: the Whore first, the Athlete, the Fool, the Scholar, and then the optional death of the Virgin. What makes this interesting is how the characters are forced to occupy these roles. Cabin in the Woods actually does the reverse of what Whedon does so well and flattens characters and reverses character development. The Fool, brilliantly played by Dollhouse’s Franz Krantz, points out how his friends are changing as an example of this flattening. Jules, as
The emphasis on being given a choice is ultimately hopeless. The cast may be able to choose, however unwittingly, but ultimately the result must be the same. The window-dressing changes, the film argues, but it all remains the same in the end. The characters die in the right order, the Old Ones are satiated, life returns to a world of baby-proofing cabinets and planning for futures we don’t actually want. The discussion between the two office characters at the beginning is not simply well-written banter, it’s the thesis of the film: their success limits and simplifies, it satisfies without really thinking why. The film ends on a note of ultimate revolution, the complete destruction to allow for other things to emerge, and it’s no coincidence that the hand that bursts through the underbelly is fairly infantile. Whedon and Goddard, I believe, are giving backhanded encouragement, saying “Fine, you try it” with a hope that someone will come along and change the game. These are two bored creators who want to be respected and surpassed. So, while the movie is fairly obviously about writing, I believe it is actually trying to consider the audience, what they could be given, and what they want could be ultimately more dangerous than anything else. © Copyright 2002-2026 by Toon Doctor Inc. - All rights Reserved. All other texts, images, characters and trademarks are copyright their respective owners. Use of material in this document (including reproduction, modification, distribution, electronic transmission or republication) without prior written permission is strictly prohibited. |