Review of Mitchell Lichtenstein’s “Teeth”

For one, the focus of the film is squarely on Dawn and her journey toward understanding her body. “Menstrual horror” or “destructive female sexuality” is a pretty common theme in horror films, and movies that parallel sexual awakening with the emergence of a terrible destructive power are nearly a genre in themselves, ranging from Brian De Palma’s classic tragedy Carrie (1976) to the wonderfully intelligent werewolf fable Ginger Snaps (2000).

Where Teeth stands apart from the genre is in its allowance that while Dawn’s sexuality may be dangerous, it need not destroy her: the film doesn’t feel the need to punish her for her newfound power.

The parallel to the treatment of gay sexuality in genre films is obvious: much like female sexual power, gay male sexuality has long been viewed as something that needs vanquishing. Much like the “hero” of the vagina dentata myth (who de-fangs the killer vajayjay through the sheer force of his own maleness), the heterosexual norm usually imposes itself to restore order after gay sexuality rears its ugly head (Rebel Without a Cause [1955], Rocky Horror Picture Show [1975], Cruising [1980], etc.).

Teeth feels like a response to films that view anything other than hetero male sexuality as “other, ” and this sensibility is one that is decidedly queer. While there are no gay characters to speak of in the film, that’s not surprising given the setting (a conservative Christian high school in a Midwestern town) and the focus (a straight conservative girl).

Perhaps unsurprising given its queer pedigree, Teeth is also awash in penises. Sure, they’re dismembered, but hey – I’ll take a plucked pickle over no pickle any day, even as a gross-out punch line (of which there are many). Some folks might consider it a cop-out that a movie about a vagina that even goes so far as to criticize school systems’ censoring of anatomy books that feature detailed drawings of female genitalia (a sad but true occurrence) doesn’t feature a single shot of Dawn’s toothy secret weapon.

While I can see that argument, I don’t necessarily think it sinks the film or is even the case. After all, the showing of something so private can rob it of its power, particularly in a film about someone taking ownership of her own body.

I liken it more to the unseen contents of the briefcase in Pulp Fiction (1994), or films made in during the Hays Code era that were forbidden to depict Jesus Christ on screen: it’s simply too powerful, if not downright holy, to do justice to in a horror comedy. And in that regard, the decision to leave the teeth of the title to our imaginations is likely a sound one.

And really, despite the lofty subject matter, Teeth is at its heart a goofy creature feature that likes to make its audience squirm and laugh, not recoil. I was more than a little apprehensive about the subject matter going in, but Lichtenstein handles the story with an impressively even hand, and the resulting film is far more breezily entertaining than it probably has any right to be.

After all, it’s in lean company … aside from Catherine Breillat’s graphic and unsettling Anatomy of Hell (2004) and the even more horrifying (and somehow less entertaining) talking vagina comedy Chatterbox (1977), Teeth is pretty much in a class by itself. But in terms of balancing comedy with commentary and blending laughs with shrieks, I’d say it’s kind of a cross between Saved! (2004) And Audition (2007).

Which is to say that, like the best comedies, this one has bite.