Pages 1 – 4:

​

They’re running through the rain! Heels dangling from her fingertips. Bare feet on the New York City sidewalk. She’s kicking up puddles. They’re hand in hand. She screams out into the universe. A euphoric “yes” follows, a sort of gasp for air – a fatigued but fulfilled cry of freedom. We cut to the sounds of their whispers, only seeing their silhouettes outlined by the orange hue dawning through the window. Her white dress and his Led Zeppelin tee have come off. The footage may be fragmented and the lighting dim, but the tell-tale glimmer on their skin hints at the impending fervor. He pauses and asks the question, “Are you sure about this?” The sultry scene cuts off, leaving us with no answer. There are no more triumphal affirmations as she gave before (We Need to Talk about Kevin 0:13:41-0:15:10). It was a pivotal moment with no clear choices made about her future. And so, a child was added to her life, a responsibility that Eva had not anticipated nor chosen.

​

This series of events prompts the premise of Lynne Ramsay’s 2011 screenplay, We Need to Talk About Kevin. The film follows Eva Khatchadourian living in the aftermath of a school massacre committed by her son, Kevin. The film lacks chronology and, instead, weaves together fragmented moments throughout Eva’s past and present. We often encounter scenes of Eva dissociating or struggling to sleep, which cuts to memories of her and her son. She stares blankly at her computer screen and lies awake staring at the ceiling, haunted by the memories. Eva cannot escape this state of reflection, ridden by her deep-seated guilt. She constantly rifles through her past, harping on how her resentment towards Kevin led her here. Much of the scenes, married together by audio bridges, show Eva’s struggle to connect with a child who seems to actively resist her efforts. Through her flashbacks, we also witness moments Kevin never intended for an audience other than his mother. From fighting toilet training as a toddler to half-blinding his sister as a teen, Kevin’s actions seem to be intentional torment towards Eva. We often lack context, but Ramsay’s visual contrasts and clues piece the story together. We can distinguish a young and liberated Eva with long hair, an exhausted mother Eva with short hair, and a current Eva with medium-length hair. Ramsay’s storytelling also heavily relies on the symmetry of scenes. By being provided with two birth scenes, Kevin’s and his sister’s, we can understand more about Eva and Kevin’s relationship. Additionally, Ramsay’s compositional symmetry of Eva and Kevin paints the complex duo as mirrors of each other while placing them in opposition. This symmetry and recursion are crucial to Ramsay’s filmmaking and allow her to create thematic links. Ramsay’s scarcity of dialogue, overlapping audios, and dissonant song choices create an unnerving, nightmare-like feeling for viewers. This film exudes a hazy sense yet builds a strong story. These elements explore the darker side of motherhood in painting Eva’s earthly hell. Ultimately, the film challenges traditional notions of motherhood and monstrosity by depicting a mother who fails to meet societal expectations and a son who commits a heinous crime. By exploring the complexities of motherhood and the impact of societal pressures on women, the film suggests that these pressures are the true monster, driving both Eva and Kevin to their tragic fates. It forces us to reconsider our assumptions about what makes a ‘good’ mother and what drives someone to commit monstrous acts.

​

In the cinematic universe, maternal figures often present in binary oppositions: the Good Mother and the Bad Mother. Sarah Louise Smyth, a lecturer in film at the University of Essex, writes how “the Good Mother’ valorises self-sacrifice, selflessness and nurturance,’” while the Bad Mother is a “‘multifaceted and contradictory construct’ who, at times, “reject[s] her traditional function of self-sacrifice and devotion,” and, at other times, fanatically conforms to the institution of motherhood.” She points to the film series, Bad Moms, to show how conventional cinematic portrayals of Bad Mothers often consist of mothers with “chaotic domestic lives” who engage in hedonistic activities like partying and drinking. While they do depart from the idea of a nuclear mother, these maternal characters are still very limited in their aversion. The Bad Moms participate in laughable and frivolous behaviors, whereas Eva is interested in more existential activities. When frustrated with a young Kevin, Eva tells him, “Mommy was happy before little Kevin came along… Now mommy wakes up every morning and wishes she was in France” (...Kevin 0:32:30-0:32:53). The Bad Mother rejects traditions of self-sacrifice. The Bad Moms reject them in minor, pleasurable ways that do not wholly disrupt their life as a mother. Eva, however, wishes to fully confront the classic maternal lifestyle by following her passion for traveling. The Bad Moms type strays from convention but does not cross the boundary between the object of entertainment to behavior that prompts condemnation. 

​

Amidst the era of Post-Feminism, there is a clearer framework of which maternal behaviors are subject to condemnation. Smyth introduces the idea that Post-Feminism aims “to shape what and how women are enabled to feel and how their emotional states should be presented.” It demands mothers to be wonder women: women who can taxi their kids around, attend every PTA meeting, keep the house clean, and cook all meals while looking and feeling good. The apparent bliss, poise, and constant enjoyment of motherhood are the most emphatic aspects of this dogma. In a flashback, we see Eva in the locker room after a prenatal workout class. The frame is overwhelmingly dominated by bare, pregnant bellies of women smiling and chatting with one another. Eva stands out in this frame as a billowy blouse hides her belly, she sits alone, and appears overcome by exhaustion by a gasping face and uncomfortable body language (...Kevin 0:17:52-0:18:17). Her disposition does not adhere to Post-Feminist empowerment phrases like “pregnant beauty,” “perfect little bump,” and “yummy mummy” (Smyth). Eva’s physical and mental affect in this scene detaches her from the rest of the mothers and the proper maternal figure illustrated by Post-Feminism.

​

The weight of maternal expectations can bear an overwhelming burden, and if a woman falls short of these duties, the punishment that follows is just as heavy. Despite the stark contrast between mothers and monsters, the failure to meet societal expectations can quickly transform a mother into a monster. Eva’s inability to be the perfect mother and produce the perfect child maims her reputation and paints her as the villain behind the school massacre. Eva’s community becomes a vigilante force that inflicts punishment on her for her son’s monstrous actions. While Eva strolls through the aisles of a grocery store, she spots a former friend whose daughter was a victim of Kevin’s. Eva quickly vanishes into an adjacent aisle to avoid confrontation. She returns to find the carton of eggs in her abandoned cart shattered (...Kevin 0:24:17-0:25:35). Despite her efforts to integrate into society, Eva is burdened by the stigma of being viewed as the monster, which turns even the simplest daily tasks into obstacles. Walking through a parking lot exposes her to physical assaults from neighbors, and even living in her own home becomes a challenge as she deals with vandalism marking her property with bloody red paint.

​

Pages 7 – 8:

 

Mothers like Eva are living at the mercy of society, like on Halloween night, when Eva drives through her community, doing her best to dodge the creepily costumed children who are carelessly crossing the street. Between the haze and shadows, Eva’s face is only dimly lit by passing lamp posts and tail lights. The jolting camera movement and short, choppy frames, overlaid with a nursery rhythmic song, exude a haunting anxiety that is clearly expressed on Eva’s perspiring face. As she rushes into her house, her relief is quickly interrupted by the cries of a “trick or treat.” Outside, a chant builds, “candy, candy, candy.” People begin banging on windows and screaming at Eva. Eva’s cabinets are unable to give them what they want. She hides in a corner, sliding down the wall, unable to escape the noise of the outside world (...Kevin 0:30:09-0:32:38). 

​

The way they scream for candy is the way society screams at women to be the Good Mother. We demand it, we corner them, and we give no other option. When they inevitably fail, we turn these women into demons without looking at ourselves and recognizing that we are the ones dressed like monsters. If we had not burdened Eva with the societal expectations of the Good Mother, would she have been more honest about her conflicting emotions towards Kevin? Would this honesty have helped Kevin gain a clearer sense of his own identity? And if it did, would Kevin still have committed the merciless massacre?

​
 

Works Cited

​

Galioto, E. D. “Maternal Ambivalence in the Novel and Film We Need to Talk About Kevin.” Psychoanalysis, Culture and Society, vol. 24, no. 2, June 2019, pp. 132-150–150. EBSCOhost, https://doi.org/10.1057/s41282-019-00116-w. 

 

Smyth, S. L. “Postfeminism, Ambivalence and the Mother in Lynne Ramsay’s We Need to Talk about Kevin (2011).” Film Criticism, vol. 44, no. 1, Jan. 2020. EBSCOhost, https://doi.org/10.3998/FC.13761232.0044.106.

 

Elizabeth K. Laney, M. Elizabeth Lewis Hall, Tamara L. Anderson & Michele M. Willingham (2015) Becoming a Mother: The Influence of Motherhood on Women's Identity Development, Identity, 15:2, 126-145, DOI: 10.1080/15283488.2015.1023440

​

Melendez, Michael S., et al. “Mothers of Mass Murderers: Exploring Public Blame for the Mothers of School Shooters through an Application of Courtesy Stigma to the Columbine and Newtown Tragedies.” Deviant Behavior, vol. 37, no. 5, Jan. 2016, pp. 525–36. EBSCOhost, search.ebscohost.com/login.aspx?direct=true&db=edsbl&AN=vdc.100030203858.0x000001&site=eds-live.