The Scariest Woman On Film, Ever

I almost didn’t make it to Halloween (or even October) with a post, and up to now I’d have said the scariest woman I’ve ever met was my night shift nurse.  

I won’t bore you with details as to why I’ve been away from the blog; suffice it to say that a prolonged hospital stay puts the idea of monsters and strong women (especially those carrying bedpans) pretty much into perspective. 

But I did encounter Myra, the day shift nurse who bore an uncanny resemblance to Barbara Shelley (the Gorgon in the Hammer film).  I mentioned said resemblance to her (trying to keep the lust out of my voice) and—alas—it was just a name to her.  But she did Google old Barbara and saw all that sexiness, and told me she was properly flattered.

She also asked me a question that I answered with surprising ease.  And I still would stand by the answer, even though I was pretty doped up the first time the question was posed. 

“Who’s the scariest woman you ever saw in a movie?”

It sets the mind a-reeling, remembering Barbara as the vampire woman from Dracula, Prince of Darkness, or another Barbara, last name Steele, the vicious vampire-witch in Bava’s Black Sunday.   Or any of a dozen modern blood-swilling women who start out looking fairly normal and hot, and grow those troublesome fangs.  

The best of these, even after all these years, is still the toothsome Salma Hayek (one of the best-named vampire women ever, Santanico Pandemonium) in the matchless Rodriguez classic, From Dusk Till Dawn, a cinema gorefest which, far more than Grindhouse, captures the essence of grindhouse sexploitation and blood-letting.  

But the scariest woman ever on film, for me—this is one man’s opinion—is entirely human throughout the movie.  

She never grows fangs, sprouts fur, or, more’s the pity, sheds clothes.  She never even sleeps with a guy in order to do a Black Widow number (you know, where the woman murders or castrates some poor schlep who thinks he’s going to get some).  Nor does she murder out of revenge, hatred or spite.   But murder she does, and memorably. 

She’s a horrendously strong personality, who kills others so she can survive herself.  She is not supernatural, but a human monster—twisted and self-righteous as she is, you can’t laugh her off.  Sadly, she’s barely known in this country. 

She’s Juno (played with peerlessly selfish evil by the largely unsung Natalie Mendoza) in the 2005 Neil Marshall horror masterwork, The Descent. 

This gruesome offering is about a group of six women who go spelunking in an unmapped, dark-as-hell cave and, naturally, become trapped.   

They get hungry and they get desperate, not unlike the poor fools in Blair Witch.  

And they get scared, because they’re not alone.  

There are—things—down there with them. 

If you’ve never seen it, do yourself a favor and get the DVD, and then set up a showing in the pitch-blackest atmosphere you can manage in your apartment or house.   

Treat it just as you would any horror experience that you shouldn’t see alone (and you may have noticed that few people like to watch horror films alone at home—in a crowded theater, surrounded by your pack, it’s much more fun to break the tension with laughter).   

And then, if you have the courage, see it alone. 

Incidentally, if you really want a mind-shattering experience, try and get the uncut version—it adds a nearly unbearable final minute that the director removed from American prints.  The feel bad ending of the century, and audiences here never saw it. 

And just to be a purist, end your viewing there.  Don’t bother with The Descent 2.  It adds nothing but a bunch of stupidly macho men in the same cave to the mix, and it basically sucks. 

But Juno, in the original?   What a frightening, beautifully strong villainess, and she’s still swinging at the things in the cavern when she disappears from sight.   

But I personally don’t think they have a chance against her.