Swallow (2020): Body Autonomy Through Body Horror
Carlo Mirabella-Davis’ feature-length debut uses the genre to comment on deeply-rooted patriarchal structures.
Now that we finally find ourselves at the start of a new year, I want to take this opportunity to shine a light on some of the releases that might have gone under the radar in 2020.
While 2020 was an absolute dumpster fire for a myriad of reasons, it also saw the release of a number of exceptional movies that addressed relevant social issues, like Kitty Green’s The Assistant, starring Julia Garner, a film that highlights the challenges that women are forced to endure in a regular office setting within a male-dominated industry; as well as Fernando Frías de la Parra’s directorial debut, I’m No Longer Here, a film that explored the struggle to hold on to one’s cultural identity within a country that insists on othering individuals from diverse backgrounds.
But one film that I can’t seem to get out of my head comes in the form of Carlo Mirabella-Davis’ slow-burn horror-thriller, Swallow. Slow-burn horror films have been on the rise lately, and Swallow proved to be another worthwhile entry in the genre that offers some interesting commentary on mental health, trauma, and body autonomy for women.
Various titles — such as Get Out, The Invisible Man, and even the genre-bending Parasite — have taken advantage of the horror genre's surreal, storytelling potential to comment on real-world issues that have been overlooked in horror movies of the past. And this is a welcome change of pace for a genre that’s often been dismissed as “cheap” or “gratuitous” by a number of critics.
The story of Swallow revolves around a newly-pregnant housewife, Hunter (Haley Benett), who’s searching for new ways to find some spark in her uneventful life. The problem is, the way she goes about it is by — you guessed it — swallowing small objects, no matter how dangerous they may be.
While it might seem like an extreme concept at first, as the film goes on, we find out more and more about the trauma Hunter’s been carrying throughout her whole life, and how it has affected her entire worldview. It all comes together at the end to form a powerful message of autonomy and self-realization, and how difficult it is to achieve it.
As we follow the day-to-day moments of Hunter’s life, we see that her usual routine revolves around doing housework and finding ways to keep herself busy while her husband is away at work. Although she lives an incredibly wealthy lifestyle due to her marriage, it’s clear to see that she’s anything but happy, and her despondent behavior pretty much confirms this.
She does try to get some things done to further her own development, though. We see her drawing some illustrations and reading self-help books from time to time, but most of her endeavors end up leaving her unfulfilled. It isn’t until she’s inspired by one of her books that she gets the idea to do something spontaneous. Unfortunately, the new thing she decides to do is, well… swallow a marble.
After she successfully manages to gulp it down, she finds a remarkable sense of accomplishment that’s been missing from her life, and this leads her to experiment with other items of different shapes and sizes. The rest of the film sees her dealing with the consequences that come with her compulsion, and how the family attempts to monitor her behavior by any means necessary.
It’s revealed that she’s suffering from a condition called Pica, an eating disorder that compels her to consume dangerous objects. While it’s true that her condition is a problem for her overall health, the film is clearly presenting this issue as a metaphor for the ways that men have been historically dictating what women are allowed to do with their bodies. This is evident since the family appears to be more concerned about Hunter having a successful pregnancy instead of worrying about her own happiness and well-being.
But while the narrative dives into some pretty heavy topics, at the center of everything is Haley Benett’s performance as the troubled young woman. She manages to convey the excruciating pain that comes with consuming dangerous items, as well as the overwhelming sense of accomplishment that it brings to her. So much so that she actually cries tears of joy, and it’s hard not to get invested in her emotional journey during these brief glimpses of happiness.
That said, the experience of watching Swallow is an excruciating one, but mostly for the way that Hunter is treated throughout the film. While the very thought of swallowing all sorts of objects is sure to leave any viewer squeamish, the constant gaslighting and psychological torture that Hunter has to go through is just as painful as swallowing a thumbtack.
The main source of her unhappiness comes from her dismissive husband, Richie (Austin Stowell). He simply sees her as an extension of himself and not as her own individual, and he reminds us of this fact by constantly belittling her with subtle remarks in a condescending tone.
But what’s most egregious is how he’s completely absent from Hunter’s life whenever she needs him around to support her. Instead of getting involved, he chooses to avoid any uncomfortable situations by leaving her in the hands of other people to take care of—rather than, you know, being present in her life.
Although the sinister tone and disturbing subject matter are sure to send a chill down anyone’s spine, the film itself is a sight to behold. The cinematography by Katelin Arizmendi and the production design by Erin Magill complement each other perfectly to create a mesmerizing aesthetic that permeates the entire film. The symmetrical compositions beautifully highlight the rigidness in the life of our heroine, while the vibrant colors serve to symbolize her emotional journey throughout the film.
There are even aspects within the film’s setting that have been purposefully included to go in line with the overall themes of the story that’s being told. For example, the house that Hunter lives in — much like the lavish household in Parasite — is made up of huge glass windows, which could be interpreted as the oppressive patriarchal constructs that are keeping her trapped in a role that denies her any sort of agency in her life.
I wouldn’t dare reveal the root of her condition, for there are huge revelations near the tail end of the narrative that should unfold naturally through everyone’s own viewing experience. With its gorgeous visuals, socially-conscious themes, and purposeful pacing, Swallow manages to build to an emotionally gripping and therapeutic climax that’s well worth the watch, and it was one of the very best films of 2020.
