We often celebrate a mother’s love as unconditional and motherhood as a seamless path to fulfillment, but is it that simple? Jennifer Kent’s The Babadook dares to peel back the layers of this societal idealization, revealing motherhood’s complex and unspoken struggles. A cinematic masterpiece, The Babadook is far more than a horror film—it’s a striking exploration of the internal battles mothers face, challenging the stereotype of self-sacrificing motherhood and reframing the narrative with compassion and honesty.
At its core, The Babadook is a story about Amelia (Essie Davis), a single mother overwhelmed by grief after the sudden death of her husband. After being left to raise her son, Samuel (Noah Wiseman), alone, Amelia battles external challenges and the inner turmoil of conflicting emotions toward her child. Samuel’s clinginess and erratic behavior exacerbate her feelings of isolation and exhaustion, while her repressed grief manifests as the menacing Babadook—a supernatural figure embodying her suppressed rage and despair.
Rather than vilifying Amelia, the film boldly addresses her internal struggles with a refreshing nuance rarely seen in depictions of motherhood. Director Jennifer Kent emphasizes that maternal ambivalence—feeling both love and resentment toward one’s child—is natural, though it remains taboo. Kent herself has stated, “It’s the great unspoken thing. We’re all, as women, educated and conditioned to think that motherhood is an easy thing that just happens. But it’s not always the case.” Through Amelia’s journey, Kent invites audiences to confront these deeply human, often buried emotions without judgment.
The film’s brilliance lies in its ability to foster empathy for Amelia while navigating her darkest moments. From the claustrophobic confines of her home to the increasingly disjointed narrative framing, every element of The Babadook draws viewers into her unraveling mental state. Kent’s decision to center the story on Amelia’s perspective, particularly through decontextualized close-ups and fragmented sequences, ensures that her grief and frustration remain palpable and relatable. This focus on Amelia’s humanity expands the often oversimplified archetypes of mothers in cinema, breaking free from the binary of the ‘perfect mother’ versus the ‘monstrous one.’
Importantly, The Babadook refuses to sensationalize mental illness or portray it as a simplistic symbol of monstrosity. Instead, Kent uses the horror genre to delve into the complexities of grief, depression, and rage, ultimately portraying them as emotions to be acknowledged and integrated rather than feared or eradicated. By the film’s conclusion, Amelia’s acceptance of her feelings allows her to reclaim her sense of self and begin to heal—not by defeating the Babadook, but by coexisting with it.
This nuanced portrayal of maternal ambivalence is revolutionary in a genre that often thrives on vilifying mentally afflicted characters. Films like Psycho and Split lean heavily into harmful tropes of madness, while The Babadook opts for compassion, portraying Amelia’s mental health struggles with dignity and understanding. In doing so, Kent redefines horror, proving its potential to be a vehicle for empathy rather than fearmongering.
In an era where mental health and maternal ambivalence remain stigmatized, The Babadook is a bold, necessary work of art. Jennifer Kent’s uncompromising vision challenges societal norms, redefining the concept of a ‘mother’s unconditional love’ to encompass ambivalence and complexities. For those willing to confront its haunting truths, The Babadook offers not just scares, but a profoundly empowering perspective on motherhood, grief, and the human condition.
So, is The Babadook simply a monster and a jump scare? Hardly. It’s a masterful meditation on the intricacies of parenthood, mental health, and personal resilience—a story that lingers long after the credits roll, challenging us to embrace the shadows within ourselves.