The Hellraiser Films and Their Legacy (20 page)

We’ve talked about the literary and filmic lineage that Channard has inherited, but there is more to his role as a doctor than facilitating
Hellbound
’s eligibility for this subgenre. Channard also embodies our fear of medicine, surgery and doctors generally, not just culturally. The first time we meet Channard he is performing one of the most horrendous operations one could possibly imagine. With his mask and gown on, he already appears something other than human—a prophetic indication of his later guise, and foundation for the aborted Pinhead-surgical scene—but what he is doing is enough to make even the strongest person cringe. Randel has spoken about the effect the
Ben Casey
TV series had on him as a boy. “This imagery comes from something that scared the crap out of me when I was young, with Vince Edwards doing surgery on somebody who was awake. I always thought, ‘That’s nasty.’”
³
And he’s correct. (It was so nasty, in fact, that it was used again in
Hellraiser: Hellseeker
some years later.) The metallic implements on either side of the woman’s head, gripping her face and nose, the cranium open with flaps of skin pulled tight, the scalpel hovering over the brain itself, and then the application of the drill, with the added touch of smoke rising as it connects with the gray matter, is extremely uncomfortable to watch. Even the nurses on hand and Kyle, observing his mentor, appear shocked. Channard, conversely, remains calm throughout. He doesn’t really care about the patient, doesn’t see her as a person: all that concerns him is what her brain can tell him. It is an apathy that—rightly or wrongly—many of us associate with the medical profession.

This is amplified only moments later when Channard walks down a corridor and discusses Kirsty with Kyle. “Now this case, Kyle, interesting but delicate.” This is what she represents to him, another case to crack. “A speculative mind,” he continues, “is an invaluable asset to the analytic man, but all diagnosis begins with...” “Examination,” ventures Kyle. “Precisely. You must win from them their trust, draw from them their story, and take from them their pain.” Channard has a plan all worked out before he even meets with Kirsty. It doesn’t matter to him either way whether he cures her or not (the patients on his wards seem to have been there forever). What’s important is quenching his professional thirst. The main factor in this equation, and the thing that terrifies us most, is that doctors are in a position of power. We are at our most vulnerable when sick, so the idea that someone could be using that to their own advantage is what scares us the most.

Later, of course, when Channard is placed in an even greater position of power, he becomes yet more frightening. As a Cenobite he no longer needs the medical equipment in that operating theater; it is all—quite literally—to hand. Scalpels spring from his tentacles, sharp enough to cut through chains, and perform an emergency tracheotomy on Pinhead. This makes his throwaway lines (“I recommend amputation”) even more relevant and chilling.

But if Channard is the universal embodiment of our fears about medicine, his work with Julia more specifically focuses on one area: plastic surgery. In the 1980s, this kind of treatment was nowhere near as prevalent as it is today. Now, it is the norm to have face lifts, liposuction, breast enhancements, collagen injections; it has even become a fashion trend. There was much more anxiety attached to these procedures when
Hellbound
was made. The public was not as familiar with plastic surgery then, which meant it was a choice subject to tap into. What other explanation can there be for the resemblance of the bandaged Julia to Edith Scob in Georges Franju’s seminal postwar European horror film,
Les Yeux Sans Visage
(
Eyes Without a Face
, 1959). This, too, trades on apprehension about bodily and facial disfigurement and plastic surgery, complete with uncompromising operating theater scenes which owe much to documentary shorts Franju made in the aftermath of the Second World War.

As she first appears to us, Julia is uncomfortable to look at: skinless, oozing slime. She may well tread that fine line between disgusting and hideously resplendent, but there can be no denying that she looked much better before her death. She has lost her natural beauty and is reliant on Channard to restore it, which he does by bringing her “food.” The unwrapping of her bandages to reveal the face we all know is comparable to many a film or TV show (usually soap operas of the ’80s like
Dynasty
when an actor was replaced) where surgery has been performed on the features. But somehow Julia’s look
has
changed between films. She has grown even more beautiful, her hairstyle has changed, all of which supports the claim that villainy does indeed become this woman. A few final nips and tucks are needed, though, which Julia sees to herself. The tear at her back, where the new skin has been grafted on, is soon sealed by absorbing Kyle’s life force when she kisses him.

On the face of it, Julia is better than ever before now: more stunning and attractive. But this is only a temporary thing. In the wind tunnel when she is trying to deceive Tiffany, this new membrane is ripped off at the arm. Julia disappears, leaving a pile of skin on the stone floor. The “operations” she has been through may have given her transient beauty, but with one tug it is lost. In this way Julia personifies fears about whether plastic surgery will actually work, whether a facelift will somehow rip or tear, whether a nose will cave in after rhinoplasty. What brings this into even sharper relief is
Hellbound
’s accent on the fact that Kirsty doesn’t need to undergo any of these procedures. She is shown in the shower, skin perfect, close-ups of her face emphasizing she has no wrinkles. Her youth is pitted against Julia’s maturity. And in one final snub, Kirsty uses the skin Julia has left behind to fool Channard and liberate Tiffany. She dons this fake bodysuit, but she doesn’t need it, which is why she peels it off with such glee once the rescue has been performed. Where Julia has been forced to put the skin on to retain her looks, Kirsty only has need of it to perform her heroics during the finale. After that, she can disregard it and all it represents. But as we have seen, Kirsty has matured herself during the film, developing fully into a woman. And when Kirsty is a little older herself, might Julia not have her supreme revenge?

9

THE DEVIL YOU KNOW?

Visions of Hell

In our discussion of
Hellraiser
, we touched briefly on the fact that the Hell it depicted—and its demons—were unlike any other seen before at that time.
Hellbound
took this basic premise, not to mention Barker’s imagery, and extended it further. In the first film we get to see only one corridor in Hell. In the sequel, we are presented with Hell in all its awe-inspiring grandeur. But just how different is it to any renderings from the past? As we’ve already seen, in Greek mythology Hell is a cavernous Underworld, located in Hades and reached by crossing the river Styx. The Romans had their own equivalent, a kingdom ruled by their god Pluto. But possibly the most famous source about Hell is
The Bible
. Here the Infernal Region is described in a number of entries:

The two of them were thrown alive into the fiery lake of burning sulfur.
¹

And the devil, who deceived them, was thrown into the lake of burning sulfur, where the beast and the false prophet had been thrown. They will be tormented day and night for ever and ever.... Then death and Hades were thrown into the lake of fire.
²

But as for the cowardly, the faithless, the polluted, as for murderers, fornicators, sorcerers, idolaters, and all liars, their lot shall be in the lake that burns with fire and sulfur.
³

There are also references to Hell being within the earth, somewhere that sinners descend into like an abyss. It expressly describes the earth opening up and the wicked being dragged down into Hell.
⁴
People have speculated that this might be a metaphor, however, to indicate a separation from God, the darkness of the abyss a direct contrast to the light of Heaven and all it represents. In addition,
The Bible
provides enlightenment about what life is like for the damned that dwell in the bowels of the abyss.

If anyone worships the beast and his image and receives his mark on the forehead or on the hand, he, too, will drink of the wine of God’s fury, which has been poured full strength into the cup of his wrath. He will be tormented with burning sulfur in the presence of the holy angels and of the Lamb. And the smoke of their torment rises for ever and ever. There is no rest day or night for those who worship the beast and his image, or for anyone who receives the mark of his name.
⁵

But the subjects of the kingdom will be thrown outside, into the darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.
⁶

Not those of a certain Cenobite, but the teeth of sinners themselves. But what of the eternal torments they must endure?

It implies that all the pains and horrors of earth put together are nothing compared to what awaits the inhabitants of Hell. Yet the greatest torment of all is called the poena damni, or pain of loss: the soul’s separation from God. A secondary torture is mentioned, too, the poena sensus (pain of sense). This could take on many forms, but the most familiar to us would be burning in the flames of Hell, which do not kill the victim, forcing them to endure the sensation of burning indefinitely. Their company in this place would be demons, liars, sorcerers, murderers, cheaters and fornicators, who would gloat over such sufferings. In effect, as the New Testament lays it out, Hell is a place of corruption, unquenchable fire and—of course—brimstone.

Muslims have a similar view of Hell, but the Islamic Hell, or Jahannum, is reserved only for all unbelievers in the Islamic faith, no matter how God-fearing they are in their own religions. Buddhists descend into one of many Hells because of evil karma (which means any action of doing). The eight hells or Jigoku are as follows: The first is for murderers, who kill for gratification: The Hell of Repetition. The next is the Black Rope Hell, for those who have killed as part of another crime; Tortures here include black birds plucking out eyes, demons ripping out entrails and tongues. The Crowded Hell relates also to killing or stealing and sexual indulgence. Desire is at the heart of the Fire-jar Hell, where you could have your eyes burnt out for dwelling on the vision of a desirable woman. The Screaming Hell is for those who abuse alcohol or other drugs, or encourage others to do so; while The Great Screaming Hell waits for those who have used their voices to spread evil. The Hell of Burning Heat is for those with dishonest viewpoints; and in the Diamond-beak Hornet Hell, the sinner is forced to drink his own blood and eat his own flesh. The Burning Hell of String-like Worms is concerned with sexual crimes of a religious nature; and, finally, the eighth, Hell Of No Interval, is the most serious, meant for those who have killed their own parents, or caused harm to the Buddhist community in some way.

Hindus have a comparable notion concerning multiple hells. Writers of law books, or Smritis, like Yogi Yajnavalkya and Vishnu, have given descriptions of the various Hells and the variety of pleasures in Heaven. For example Yajnavalkya mentions twenty-one Hells in his law book. In both these religions, Hindu and Buddhist, the sinner is given the opportunity to be freed once the bad karma has been worked through, and is then reincarnated. The punishment in Hell is not remembered by the soul when it is reborn; therefore, the chastisement in Hell is of a more reformatory or educative nature.

The idea of such levels of Hell was taken up by an Italian writer in the middle ages. Alighieri Dante (1265–1321) died shortly after producing his most famous piece, the
Divine Comedy
. It is a narrative poem in which Dante, with Roman poet Virgil as his guide, undertakes a religious pilgrimage to find God. His journey takes him through Hell, Purgatory and finally to Paradise. Dante’s Hell, or Inferno as it’s more popularly known, has nine circles. In each circle the pair witness sinners being punished for their misdoings on earth, guilty of three types of sin: Incontinence or loss of control; Brutishness; and Malice or Vice. The Inferno is intricately structured, covering the entire range of possible transgressions.

In Circle One we find pagans and unbaptized infants in limbo; in Circle Two the lustful; in Circle Three the gluttonous; in Circle Four the hoarders; in Five the angry and wrathful; in Six heretics; in Circle Seven (descending now to the lower regions of violence and fraud) the violent—split into sections that include murderers, suicides and those harmful against God; in Circle Eight we have sorcerers, fortune tellers, hypocrites, thieves, alchemists, impersonators and counterfeiters; and, finally, in Circle Nine there are the traitors to kin and country, and guests and traitors to lords and benefactors. It is also here that we find the Ultimate Destroyer Lucifer.

Pictorially, artists such as the Limbourg brothers (1380–1416), Franco-Flemish painters, have been hugely influential. One of their most original and beautiful miniatures,
The Fall of the Rebel Angels
, depicts the aforementioned Lucifer and the other fallen angels catching light as they touch the earth, the flames a golden color against shades of blue. Hieronymus Bosch (c.1445–1516) is another name synonymous with visions of Hell. His depiction in the right-hand panel of the triptych
The Garden of Earthly Delights
(
The Musical Hell
) shows all manner of strange and grotesque imagery. Here the sinners are being harassed by the likes of birds and swine with human attributes, as well as being surrounded by animal skulls and a pair of human ears with a gigantic knife-blade protruding from them. There may not be any fire, but there are plenty of demons representing the full spectrum of human fears.