Influencia del momento de la cosecha en las afectaciones a las raíces tuberosas y su

Jeffrey Sconce has written on the appeal of zombies to adults, including the use of the zombie in everyday life, such as charity zombie walks called ‘Run For Your Life’: like the havoc inflected by the gremlins upon Kingston Falls, such events ‘present a carnivalesque reversal of power’. Healthy human beings adopt the zombie for both comedic and charitable purposes, literally confronting a symbol of death in order to defeat it and promote health (2013: 108-9). Sconce also attributes the appeal of zombies to wish-fulfilment: ‘Zombies do not have jobs, mortgages, bank accounts [...] or any other discernible obligations’ (ibid.: 106). However, scholarship such as this ignores the appeal of the zombie to children despite the extreme likelihood that children are just as fascinated by these lumbering corpses as adults. The prevalence of zombie-themed toy lines such as Plants vs. Zombies and Once Upon a Zombieattests to this. As suggested in Chapter One, the disgusting nature of ParaNorman’s zombies gives them comedic potential that might be very appealing to child viewers.If part of the appeal of zombies to adults is their lack of responsibilities, so too might children be attracted to the freedom that zombies represent, as zombies do not have to go to school, do chores, or worry about bullies. Both this freedom and the monstrous nature of zombies might account for Norman’s fascination with them. His engagement and identification with them may demystify the monstrosity of his own nature, and thus have a therapeutic function.

Early in the film Norman makes a scary face in his bathroom mirror. His mouth is covered in toothpaste foam in an imitation of a rabid creature, although the groaning noise he makes to accompany this indicates that he is imitating a zombie (Figure 3.13). That Norman does this in a mirror is significant; Jacques Lacan identified the mirror stage – the

110 point at which one can recognise oneself in a mirror – as a crucial moment in an infant’s development of their intelligence, identity and personality (1949: 1). While Norman is not an infant, this moment may be read as him enacting and (literally and figuratively) reflecting upon the way other people see him. Furthermore, by putting himself in the role of a monster, Norman can be read as exploring, confronting, and demystifying ‘taboo’ themes of death, gore, and monstrosity. Norman’s engagement with zombies is also indicated to help him work through the anxiety he feels due to his parents’ refusal to believe that he can see and speak to the dead. Following from the kitchen-set scene discussed above, Norman dejectedly goes to his bedroom, which is littered with zombie toys and décor. He then lies on his bed and plays with two zombie figurines in a mock imitation of his parents who can be heard continuing to argue. Echoing Bettelheim’s theory that fairy tales allow children to confront and overcome their anxieties, ParaNorman indicates that Norman’s use of toys associated with horror helps him deal with the anxiety caused by his parents’ arguing. In turn, this indicates an address to child viewers that their own consumption of horror will may allow them to overcome their own anxieties.

Another interesting scene in ParaNorman references the monstrous capabilities of the child’s body in a school toilet cubicle at a crucial point in the film’s narrative and in Norman’s character arc. Alice Mills observes that toilets are often utilised in children’s fiction

111 as spaces associated with negativity, which differs according to gender: toilets are where boys are bullied (usually via the trope of one’s head being flushed in the toilet bowl) or where girls seek refuge from the ridicule of one’s peers (2006: 1-2). Toilets are, of course, also associated with abject bodily fluids. That Norman is visited by the ghost of his uncle Mr Prenderghast (John Goodman) to be informed of his ‘destiny’ in a school toilet cubicle, which literally becomes a space of terror when Norman experiences the walls shaking and water erupting from the toilet, is therefore interesting. Before his death, Mr Prenderghast could also converse with the dead. In ghost form, he tells Norman that he must inherit his uncle’s responsibility of keeping the witch’s spirit asleep on the anniversary of her death each year, lest she rise and terrorise the town. The choice of location draws a link between the revulsion towards the abject symbolism of the toilet, Norman’s reluctance to accept his quest, and the figurative child’s journey through puberty and into adolescence. In an extension of his making a zombie face in his mirror, he must therefore confront and accept what is abject – both the monstrosity of the real zombies and of his own power – in order to become accepted by others, and to fully accept his own nature.

The ‘monstrosity’ of other significant child characters in the film should also be attended to, particularly with regards to how their representation compares with Norman and contributes to the film’s key themes of acceptance of ‘others’ and the use of communication to prevent and/or overcome monstrosity. One of these characters is the bully Alvin (Christopher Mintz-Plasse), who is the only child in the film who actually appears to be physically ‘monstrous’. Alvin is shown to be unintelligent, a delinquent, and somewhat Neanderthal-ish as he cannot spell his own name, has skills in lock-picking, and picks his nose in addition to tormenting Norman. His large, ape-like body looms over Norman in intimidation, but it is also used to comic effect when he is shown trying to impress some girls by dancing to a hip-hop song. Alvin is further ridiculed and undermined when he follows Norman to the zombies’ graves and into Mr Prenderghast’s house; he is far more terrified

112 than Norman, revealing his fear by emitting a high pitched scream and flapping his hands as he runs, and must be guided and helped by Norman in order to escape. However, as with Norman, Alvin is offered an opportunity to use his ‘monstrous’ qualities to do some good when the other children turn to him for his lock-picking skills.

The cowardice Alvin displays in front of the zombies contrasts with Norman’s more collected response, which is interesting in relation to each of their levels of interaction with horrific media. Specifically, the film indirectly refutes the concerns of Wertham that consuming horror will turn children into delinquents. This is indicated in the following exchange between Norman and his parents, which occurs after Norman has been watching a horror film:

SANDRA: Whatcha watching in there? NORMAN:[cheerfully] Sex and violence. SANDRA: [visibly disappointed] Oh, that’s nice.

PERRY: Can’t you be like other kids your age and pitch a tent in the yard or have a healthy interest in carpentry?

NORMAN: I thought you said kids my age were too busy shoplifting and joyriding?

As Norman astutely points out, there are far worse things that Norman could be doing than watching a horror film, and this message is in turn conveyed to the child audience. Contrary to Wertham’s fears regarding horror comic books, ParaNorman seems to suggest that not

having a healthy amount of experience with the horror genre will cause delinquency. In addition, Norman’s viewing is supervised by his grandmother, with whom he converses about the film as he watches. The film’s reflexive presentation of and commentary upon Norman’s film viewing therefore normalises children’s consumption of horror and suggests that parents and guardians can act as positive and encouraging mediators of children’s viewing experiences.

113 Never is it confirmed whether or not Alvin – or any of the children in the film apart from Norman, for that matter – is also a horror aficionado, but references are made to the types of media that Alvin does consume. When Norman and his accomplices go to the town hall to find more information on how to stop the witch, Alvin indignantly comments that during a zombie apocalypse he would rather be locked in the ‘adult video store just across the street’. Neil is vastly unlike Alvin in most ways, but shares Alvin’s fear of the zombies and his taste for sexualised audio-visual content that is designed for adult consumption. At an earlier point in the film Neil is shown watching his mother’s aerobics DVD and pausing it at opportune moments in order to stare at the female aerobics instructor’s behind. Never in the film are any of the (living) child characters, including Norman, shown or implied to enjoy ‘age-appropriate’ children’s content; yet, that Norman watches horror films under the supervision of his grandmother and plays with children’s zombie toys can be read as being far preferable to the activities and texts that the other children partake in and consume.

To return to the unusual body shapes and proclivities of the adolescent characters in the film, from social outcasts to bullies and stereotypically ‘popular’ kids, ParaNorman

shows its presumed child audience that being different is actually very normal: whether that difference is having a strange ability (Norman’s sight, Alvin’s lock-picking talent), being gay (Mitch), having irritable bowel syndrome (Neil), having a taste for horror (Norman again), or having an unusually shaped body, as is the case with every character. Further, any ‘monstrosity’ displayed by the child characters is offset by the actual monstrosity of the zombies who rise from their graves in conjunction with the ghost of the witch being woken. They are the resurrected town council that condemned the witch to death three-hundred years before and were subsequently cursed by her. They are at first presented as disgusting and terrifying: with sagging, grey skin, yellow teeth, and the recognisable lumbering gait and groans of traditional zombies. However, as the film progresses they are rendered pathetic and terrified by twenty-first century life, from the skimpy clothing and raucous behaviour of

114 the townspeople to the commodification of witch-lore to promote the town as a tourist attraction. The zombies then become persecuted by the modern adults, who form a mob and chase them with pitchforks and flaming torches. Norman discovers that the ‘witch’ the zombies condemned was in fact only a little girl of Norman’s age, Aggie (Jodelle Ferland). Aggie also possessed the power to speak to the dead, which was mistaken by her Puritan community for witchcraft, and was executed for it. In the film’s denouement it is implied that the zombies’ decrepit outer appearances reflect their past sins for which they spend the film attempting to atone: they chase Norman so they can admit their mistake and persuade him to right their wrongdoing. This is a stark contrast to the behaviour of the humans in Gremlins, who deny responsibility for the monstrous creatures that have been produced as a result of improper parenting, and destroy them.When Norman is successful in calming Aggie’s spirit and sending her into the afterlife the zombies shed their skins, revealing their ghostly spirits which then also fade away. With the revelation that the witch was an innocent child, the comical treatment of the zombies and the mob mentality of the ‘normal’ townspeople, the film shows that there are far worse types of monstrosity than physical abnormalities, Norman’s relatively harmless gift, or monsters from the grave. The film comically highlights this when Alvin screams at the prospect of being chased by zombies, but screams even louder when he realises that he is being chased by ‘just grown-ups’.

Of course, ParaNorman is as much a ghost story as it is a zombie film. A reading of it as the former is illuminating and leads this discussion to consider another ‘monstrous’ child who is positioned in opposition to Norman: the ghost of Aggie. On the symbolism of the ghost in children’s fiction, Judith Armstrong identifies a certain type of ghost that comes ‘from the remote depths of a person’s own mind’, a convention which she explains ‘is concerned with different aspects of the same person, the person he might have been, or might still become, had he not encountered the ghost of his potential self’ (1978: 60). While not a ghost from within Norman’s mind, the ghost of Aggie serves as a glimpse of the

115 ‘monster’ that Norman might have become. In providing this contrast, the film also addresses the child audience in order to demonstrate how they should not attempt to deal with their own anxieties.

Aggie is at first implied by the film to be monstrous in the sense that she is a ‘wicked’ witch. When Aggie’s spirit rises she does not use her real appearance, which is revealed later, but that of a crooked-nosed stereotype of a witch that the characters have built up over the course of the film. In being treated like a monstrous witch, Aggie has decided to behave like one. The truth, shown to Norman in a vision, is that that Aggie was not a witch, but just a little girl with the same paranormal ability as Norman. At the witch trial shown in the vision Aggie tried to defend herself by saying that she was ‘only playing’; this draws a link between Aggie and the gremlins who, as argued above, are unjustly attacked and killed while engaging in innocent child-like activities such as eating cookies and watching Snow White. In the context of the puritanical, witch-burning society in which she lived Aggie is misunderstood as a witch or ‘monster’ not just because of her power, but also in simply being female. As Wood identifies women as ‘others’ in horror due to their deviance from the male ‘norm’, Aggie is triply coded as an ‘other’ due to her being female, a child, and in possession of a supernatural power. Even when it is revealed to the audience that Aggie was only an innocent child she retains the aura of the monstrous due to the horrific act of murder she was sentenced to by the council of judges. As a male child living in the twenty-first century Norman is clearly in much less danger of being treated in the same way as Aggie.

There are, however, further reasons as to why Norman does not come to be seen as ‘monstrous’. As referred to above, Leslie-McCarthy identifies communication as a tool for healing families and communities in the post-1990s adult ghost films she examines. This is also referenced by Norman’s grandmother as they watch a zombie film on television together. As suggested above, it is also due to the communication between Norman and his

116 grandmother as they watch horror together that potentially prevents Norman from being ‘corrupted’ or distressed by it. If anything, it is also likely that watching horror is, for Norman, a way for him to come to terms with his own ‘horrific’ second sight. In turn, this ability to communicate with others, living or dead, is the key to overcoming the monstrosity and ‘otherness’ of Aggie and the zombies. It is Norman’s communication with Aggie that is the most interesting, and relates to the arguments throughout this discussion that the consumption of horror can be beneficial.

Above it is noted that no living children are ever seen consuming any ‘age- appropriate’ content. This is because a child who is not alive, Aggie’s spirit, is fed the same book of fairy tales year after year in order to put her spirit to sleep until the next anniversary of her death. When the fourteen-year-old Wigransky criticised children being kept in ‘utter and complete ignorance of anything and everything except the innocuous and sterile world’ that Wertham would have them subjected to, he could easily have been referring to Aggie being fed a simple fairy tale with a happy ending which has repressed her trauma, rather than acknowledged it and allowed her to come to terms with it (1948: 20).7 _{Norman, a horror}

fan like Wigransky, understands this, and thus confronts Aggie’s spirit in the film’s climax to tell her the story of her death. However, he also tells Aggie the harsh truth that, in her anger towards those who killed her, she has herself become a bully and forgotten who she really is. Aggie initially reacts with anger and violence, refusing to listen, but Norman presses on, and when he finishes the story he urges her to remember someone who loved and cared for her: her mother. This triggers Aggie to remember who she really is – or was – and the love and positive memories she has of her mother. Before Aggie’s spirit contentedly passes on to

7 _{That the fairy tales are only a temporary solution – a ‘bedtime story’, as Norman calls them –}

indirectly refutes Bettelheim’s argument fairy tales can help children to work through and overcome their fears and anxieties. However, rather than proving Bettelheim wrong, we can recall Coats’ suggestion that twentieth and twenty-first century culture has ‘degraded these once psychically useful tales’ (2008: 79). We might presume that Aggie being read the same tale over and over has had a similar effect of stripping the tale of its ‘unconscious punch’ (ibid.).

117 the afterlife – ‘healed’ by the therapeutic nature of Norman’s ‘story’ – she asks Norman whether he ever wants to make people suffer for bullying him. Norman responds, ‘Well, yeah, but… what good would that do?’ Norman’s consumption of horror through audio- visual media and toys has, in addition to the benefits outlined above, provided an outlet for him to enact the violence that he might otherwise have directed toward his family, Alvin, and everyone else who disbelieved or ridiculed him. In turn, this directs the child audience of address in the appropriate ways to respond to their own hardships.

In its resolution, the film therefore shows that possessing qualities that might be seen by some as ‘monstrous’ or ‘abnormal’, especially in children, is in fact normal in its own right and can be beneficial to the wider community. In this way the film strongly contrasts with the typical presentation of monstrous children in adult horror films, as well as with the treatment of the gremlins by that film’s adult human characters. Exemplifying this difference