animals in my head'_ kubrick's preoccupation with bathrooms by jeff westerman

25/09/14 Animals in My Head': Kubrick's Preoccupation with Bathrooms by Jeff Westerman

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'Animals in My Head':

Stanley Kubrick'sPreoccupation with

Bathrooms

by Jeff Westerman

'What in the name of Jesus H. Christ are you animals doing inmy head?'

When Sgt. Hartman, in skivvies and a big, incongruous rangerhat, confronts the murderous and suicidal Private Pyle and theterrorstricken Private Joker in Full Metal Jacket, Hartman isdemanding to know what "you animals are doing in my head,"he's of course using the military jargon 'head' for bathroom. Yet this use of the word allows for the far funnier, scarier, andmore literal meaning to come into play.

I believe Kubrick's work is primarily concerned with the havoc,comedy, terror, and chaos unleashed by the animals in humanheads. While humanity has landed on the moon, inventedcomplex technologies to organize itself, and achieved anintelligent and sociable coexistence, the human animal is stilla creature of tense dualities, which I argue are destined topervert our own ambitions and accomplishments. Manywriters have commented on the depiction of the humanpersonality as fatally flawed in Kubrick's films: the madGeneral Ripper in Dr Strangelove who exploits the flaws in a'failsafe' nuclear deterrent system to effect massdestruction;the computer HAL in 2001: A Space Odyssey whose owninstinct for self preservation has murderous consequences;and the Ludovico system of control that turns Alex into a'clockwork orange'.

In these films, Kubrick critiques the notion of the perfectsystem. In fact it can be argued that in all of his films Kubrickshows us how perfect systems can collapse because ofhuman weaknesses. In a wider sense though, I argue that



social covenants such as marriage vows, and contractsbetween the individual and society can be subverted fromwithin by humanity's animal instincts for sex, violence andselfishness. Kubrick brilliantly illustrates these themes in hisfilms. But, underlying the rigor of all his scenarios there is theanarchic, adolescent urge to lampoon social niceties whichsurfaces in his humor, especially of the ÔtoiletÕ variety. In allthe settings of his filmsspacecraft, warrooms, palaces,bedrooms, prisonsone room always plays a prominent role,the bathroom. This is the room in which the human pretenseof civilization falls away and the one place in which out animalinstincts are revealed, because as Erving Goffman said. it isthe one 'backstage area' where we take off our social masksand where truth is spoken.

bathrooms are perhaps the main shielding places inAngloAmerican society because in manyhouseholds these are the only rooms in which thesolitary person can properly lock himself. And itmay be only under these guaranteed conditionsthat some individuals will feel safe in manifestingcertain situationally improper involvements.

Goffman 1963, 40

Lolita, was the first Kubrick film to make significant use ofbathrooms. The film's protagonist, Humbert Humbert, is seenin the bathroom, door locked, writing in his secret diary. Justoutside the door, his unloved wife, Charlotte, is knocking andcalling to him, "Hum, what is it that you do in there?" WhatHumbert is doing is writing the unspeakable truth that heonly married Charlotte to gain access to her teenageddaughter, Lolita, the object of his obsessive sexual desire. Aswith many of Kubrick's male protagonists, the power ofHumbert's obsession blinds him to the fact that others seewhat he is trying to keep hidden. As he writes his secret diaryin the locked bathroom, he is the model of proprietyin hisbathrobe, perched on the bathtub with the toilet right next tohim. Humbert is revealing what really ought to be flushedaway.

It is the eventual revelation of the diary which causeCharlotte's accidental death and creates the perfectopportunity for Humbert to be with Lolita. In the aftermath ofthe accident Humbert languishes in the bathtub, nonchalantlyreceiving visitors who wish to pay their respects. HereHumbert is exercising a newfound power, he is naked; his



visitors are clothed, he is composed while they struggle tohold back their emotions. Also he accepts an offer of financialassistance from the driver of the vehicle that killed his wife. Byaccepting this 'reward' Humbert possesses the resources topursue his relationship with Lolita in an unfettered way, farfrom the prying eyes of his wife's friends and neighbours. Buthis relationship with his 'nymphette' is dishonest from thestart, because he loses the very thing he wishes most topossess through his false sense of propriety.

The bathroom motif continues in Kubrick's next film, DrStrangelove. In an early scene the Hawkish General Turgidsonis in the bathroom as his bikini cladsecretary, Miss Scott,takes a call from military command. This scene finds thegeneral in his most vulnerable moment called to exercise hispower. In the closest he ever came to a direct statement aboutthis, Kubrick told Joseph Gemelis, 'Confront a man in hisoffice with a nuclear alarm, and you have a documentary. Ifthe news reaches him in his living room, you have a drama. Ifit catches him in the lavatory, the result is a comedy' (Gemelis1970, 309).

Later in the film, as General Jack D. Ripper, who has set theentire catastrophe in motion, sits in the office of his basewhich is under attack by U.S. forces. In the scenes withcolonel Mandrake he confronts his impending capture andinterrogation and decides to commit suicide rather thansubmit to their authority. Ripper steps into the bathroom, putsa towel around his neck, stares into the mirror, and closes thedoor. A gunshot is heard a moment later. Ripper gives up hislife, but seeks to guarantee his planned outcome through hisdeath in the bathroom.

Bathrooms feature in Kubrick's next film 2001: A SpaceOdyssey in a brief comic scene where the space bureaucrat,Dr. Floyd, studies the intricate and intimidating instructionsposted on a 'zerogravity toilet' door. This scene againsuggest that, no matter how high a person's stature, everyonehas to perform this basic animal requirement.

At the end of 2001, astronaut Dave Bowman finds himself in aspectral room which he has reached by traveling throughmany dimensions and wrinkles of the cosmos. His firstawareness of the state his journey has left him in occurs whenhe steps into the suite's luxurious, if coldly empty bathroom. He regards his reflection in a mirror there, wideeyed to seethat he has aged considerably. Just as he's taking this in, he



hears a noise, and peers out the door at a seated figure, diningat a table across the adjacent room. Moments later, it isrevealed that this second person is yet another Bowman,older still, who seems to sense he's being watched. He getsup from the table and walks to the bathroom, but his youngerself is no longer there. Knowledge is again gained, andwithheld, in a bathroom. It should be noted that this sceneoccurs moments before the hopeful finale, which depicts therebirth of this man, and very possibly that of all humanity, in amystical and poignant tableaux.

In Kubrick's next film, A Clockwork Orange we see the maincharacter, Alex, late in the story, accidentally reveal hisidentity to the very last person he'd want it known to. A manhe victimized earlier in the film has rescued him from perishingin the elements, and has given Alex refuge in his home thevery home in which Alex had horribly assaulted the man andhis wife, an assault which led to her eventual death. Now Alexis upstairs, soaking away his bruises and chill in a hot bath,his host just downstairs. Alex gradually relaxes, and begins tocroon his signature tune, "Singin' in the Rain," which heperformed while assaulting this man and his wife. Alex isoblivious to the import of this song in this house, butMr.Alexander, downstairs, practically has a seizure as hehears the song, registering when he's heard it before. WhileAlex chortles away in the bath, giving away his identity, hisformer victim now becomes Alex's captor, and hatches ascheme of revenge as sadistic as anything Alex has done inthe past. The truth again came out in a bathroom. Powershifted, changing the rest of the story to come.

In 1975's Barry Lyndon , the bathroom makes one subtleappearance. Barry has betrayed his wife repeatedly, and hasbeen observed in an infidelity just a scene or two ago. Subsequently, we watch as Barry enters his wife's privatechambers, where she is having a soak in the bathtub. Barrywalks over to her with a look of great contrition, kneels by thetub, and apologizes to her, with seemingly full sincerity. Shesadly listens, and accepts a tender kiss from him. Buthowever sincere his apology at this moment, and hishumbling of himself before her, he soon inevitably reverts tohis loutish ways. The one true expression of his love for hiswife in the entire movie, though, takes place in that specialroom of rooms.

Whatever subtlety prevailed in the use of bathrooms upuntil Barry Lyndon is now abandoned with a vengeance in the



last three films of Kubrick's career. By now, even he musthave known that the pattern was clear to his audience, and hebegins to underline it boldly.

1980's The Shining, along with exploring several other heavilyfreighted symbols (mirrors, doubles, eyes, doors, certaincolors), runs amok in bathrooms. If ever it was unclear thatthis room is the crucible of change, power, and truth forKubrick, The Shining puts the spotlight on it as never before. Its first appearance comes early : Danny Torrance, the youngboy gifted with "the shining," or ESP, is standing before thebathroom sink at home, staring at himself in the mirror (likeGen. Ripper and Dave Bowman before him). A vision comesto him of the danger in the Overlook Hotel, where he and hisparents are about to spend an isolated winter as caretakers. Danny sees a river (torrents?) of blood pouring forth from anelevator we later come to know is in the hotel. This flash ofinsight is so powerful that he passes out, necessitating adoctor's housecall.

Later in the prologue, while getting a tour of the hotel from itsmanager, Jack and Wendy, Danny's parents, end up in theshabby caretaker's quarters where they will live. Their walkthrough of the apartment, dismaying as it is, ends with themstanding in the bathroom, forcing a smile, and Jack declaringthe rooms "homey." Faced with the truth of their lot, thecouple lie to themselves in the room associated withrevelation, "overlooking" what is plain to see.

The bathroom gets deadly serious in its next appearance,when Jack , later in the snowbound winter, investigatesDanny's report of a "crazy woman" in one of the hotel rooms,who tried to strangle the boy. The hotel is stirring to life, and itreaches out to Jack in Room 237's bathroom, where hisghostly encounter takes the form of a beautiful naked woman,who rises up out of the tub, seductive in a decidely aloof way. But she's not what she seems, and, as Jack kisses her, hisglance into the mirror behind her shows him that she hasbecome the decomposing corpse of an old woman. Shelaughs long and loud at her practical joke, following Jack ashe backs away from her in terror. First he was seduced andtricked in the bathroom, then shown the true face of the hotel,laughing at him. And, to cap it all, Jack lies to Wendyafterwards, telling her he found no one in Room 237! Thetruth of what Jack saw convinced him to lie, to again"overlook" the evidence, because of his overwhelming desireto remain in the hotel at all cost.



Another crucial scene, perhaps the ultimate sequence of themovie, brings us into the bathroom yet again. This time, Jackencounters a butler, Grady, who may or may not be the formercaretaker, who killed his family and himself some yearsbefore. He spills a drink on Jack in the grand ballroom, andguides him into the bloodred men's room to clean him up. Inthe course of their increasingly unnerving conversation,Grady transforms from an obsequious valet into the very voiceof the hotel. He fills Jack in on the important fact that both ofthem have "always been here," that they have predeterminedroles to play in the service of the hotel's wishes, andinadvertently reveals that they each comprehend only whatthe hotel wants them to. Hearing these "orders from TheHouse," Jack gradually shifts from cocky and certain tochildishly receptive, as Grady instructs him to kill his family, or"correct" them, as he so delicately, horribly puts it. By thetime their bathroom discussion is over, we know more than weever wanted to about Grady, the hotel, Jack's total surrenderto its sway, and the likely outcome of the story, if Jack's newfound assignment is not prevented. The dynamics of thisscene are simply exquisite, as the masks come off, truecharacter emerges, and the hotel's core desires are revealed. (And notice, just for the nuanced pleasure of it, how not onlydo Grady and Jack exchange their original positions of powerhere, but their bodies actually mirror this shift. Grady starts offlooking distinctly shorter than Jack, who's all machoposturing to Grady's servile flutterings. But by the end of thescene, as Grady's true intentions emerge, he appears, throughbrilliant camera work and angles of lighting, to eventuallytower over a nowspeechless Jack). Repeated viewings onlyreveal more details, and it's stunning to note how many thingsare happening at once in that red, red bathroom.

And there's still one more crucial bathroom scene to come,taking things completely over the top. This final exampleoccurs when Jack comes after his family with an axe, bent onfulfilling the hotel's wishes. Wendy dashes into the bathroomin the caretaker's apartment with Danny, as Jack chops hisway through the outer door to their rooms. She helps Dannyescape through the bathroom's tiny window, and he slidessafely down a mountainous snow drift, like an image from afairy tale. But she can't fit through the window herself, and,picking up a large kitchen knife, she despairingly braces forJack's onslaught. He is now an utter maniac, a husband andfather no longer. He is all the animals in his own head now, allthe hotel's animals, too, grabbing after the power over life anddeath. He begins to smash the bathroom door with his axe,



clearly enjoying his work, confident he'll kill Wendymomentarily. But, there in the bathroom, cornered, she has alifesaving flash of inspiration, and cuts Jack's hand badly ashe reaches through the broken door panels to unlock thedoor. He is thwarted, realizing she will cut him every time hetries to enter the room. And just at that moment, before heresumes his attack, a noise in the distance distracts him, thearrival of Halloran, Danny's wouldbe rescuer, and hewithdraws to investigate. On the verge of wielding ultimatepower, Jack falters, and Wendy discovers strength in herselfshe never needed to call on before. It all just happened tohave taken place in a bathroom...

And how can those scenes possibly be topped, either asbrilliant drama, or in their use as symbolism?

Kubrick's solution comes in the previously mentioned FULLMETAL JACKET, in which the lowly (and aptly named) PrivatePyle usurps the authority of his bullying sergeant in the mostdecisive way by shooting him dead. In the bathroom. AsGen. Ripper achieved the ultimate victory in DR.STRANGELOVE (or so he thought), by committing suicideand keeping his vital secrets safe, so Pvt. Pyle relieves himselfof both Sgt. Hartman, his hated tormentor, and the madnesshis boot camp life has plunged him into. He can see no otherway out, feels powerless, and still he finally achieves ameasure of power through the satisfaction of killing Hartman,before taking his own life. In Pyle's limited perspective,perhaps, he has staged a coup by killing his sergeant. Nomatter that there are scores of candidates ready to step intoHartman's shoes; Pyle has done away with his tormentor (theanimal in his head). And Hartman dies asserting his earlierauthority, staring Pyle down, still ridiculing him, and orderinghim to surrender his weapon. Hartman is confident he cantame the animals in his "head" and defuse the situation. And,should he fail, he's quite willing to sacrifice his own life trying,believing that command and control must be maintained at allcost. He gives up his life to an underling for the sake ofpreserving the greater power, his "beloved Corps." To hisway of thinking, he has won a more important victory thansaving his own hide he's thrown himself on the proverbialgrenade to save the platoon. And Pyle, having destroyed thepersonification of all his own misery, is ready to pull the triggeron himself. He not only knocks authority off its pedestal, butchooses his own form of justice for himself, denying hisenemies any further control over his life by ending itimmediately.



This scene, seemingly a simple, if shocking, denouement to atension which has built for 45 excruciating minutes, is actuallyquite complex. The innerworkings, as the wheels turn in theminds of these two men, pass over their faces throughout thescene, shifting and shading their dance of death. Hartman,when he realizes he's going to have to put his life on the line tostop Pyle, smiles to himself in a strangely elated way, beforehe speaks his final sentences. He seems to be pleased,recognizing that Fate is allowing him a great moment in whichto distinguish himself as a valorous Marine. And Pyle, too,smiles, at the same moment of realization he has engaged hisenemy headon, and they are both now consciously steppingforward to play out their ultimate roles. It's a smile ofrecognition which passes between them, rank against rank,life against life, authority versus individual will. One man willonly give up his power by dying, and the other can only gain itthrough killing. Their illusions are stronger than even theirwills to live, as has been played out somewhere in every oneof Kubrick's films. But never more bluntly than in this case.

Then, finally, after a 12year wait, EYES WIDE SHUT camealong. One early rumor had it that : "The shooting of a crucialscene in a bathroom has been going on for 3 weeks." Well,surprise! When at last the happy opening day rolled around, itwas overshadowed with sadness at the death of Kubrick theman. But he left us in top form.

Therefore, it didn't take long for this film to get right into thenext bathroom! In fact, within the opening sequence, as Billand Alice Harford are getting ready to go out to a formalChristmas party, we visit them momentarily in the bathroom. Characteristically, even this tiny scene is vitally important, as itreveals one central truth about their marriage, which is that Billtakes his wife for granted. We see this as she's sitting on thetoilet (no mincing around it this time), and he's looking athimself in the mirror. She asks how she looks, how's her hair,and, without even glancing at her, he says "Perfect." She dulynotes, "You're not even looking at it." The setup for the entirefilm has just taken place.

Then, only 8 minutes into the picture, the first crucible arrives. Bill, a doctor, has been summoned by the host of the party,Victor Ziegler, to an urgent situation taking place in thebathroom. Ziegler (only now zipping up his pants what hashe been doing in the minutes between sending for Bill, andBill's arrival?!) is waiting for him, in the company of acomatose woman sprawled naked in a bloodred easy chair.



She has overdosed. It emerges that Ziegler could care lessabout her condition; he simply wants this potentiallyembarrassing situation dealt with. Bill manages to wake her,examine her briefly, and give her a pompous warning aboutthe dangers of her drug habit. Ziegler can barely contain hisimpatience to get her out of there so he can return to hisparty. But first, he realizes he's in a compromising position,and must enlist Bill's silence about what's happened. He tellsBill he hopes that "this is just between us," and Bill blithelysays, "Of course." No scruples required, not in the bathroom.

But, like the ripples expanding across water from a droppedstone, the implications of this scene course throughout therest of the story. We see enough about Ziegler here to assesshis personal evil, and the party's setting reveals his fabulouswealth and power. He makes his first offer of aMephistophelean bargain to Bill here, as he will again, late inthe film. Bill, for his part, is a callow social climber, ambitiousenough to cope with the situation without breaking his stride. As he told Alice earlier in the party sequence, "This is whatyou get for making housecalls." Having now made theultimate housecall, Bill's appetite for privilege has beenwhetted, and he begins to act out his belief that he's somehowprivy to the inner sanctum to a greater degree than everbefore. Believing and acting on this, his behavior results in anabrupt reality check from Ziegler later on, when hissubsequent partycrashing at a much riskier party gets himput firmly back into his assigned social rank. Bill comes tounderstand that keeping Ziegler's secret in no way entitles himto move above his station that the privilege of making housecalls is in itself the reward he's expected to content himselfwith.

The alpha male will take him into his confidence only when heneeds to, and Bill will definitely be invited to next year'sChristmas party, but any further assumption he makes will gethim slapped down posthaste. Yet the scene in the bathroomhas unleashed Bill's yearnings to move in circles beyond hisreach. This is because Bill, like so many men in Kubrick'swork, is dangerously oblivious to how those coveted circlesreally work, and what the true price of admission is. And he'sequally oblivious of his own deepest motives, using his blandbehavior to hide from even himself the urgency of his desires,and his willingness to jeopardize all he holds dear just to climbanother rung in the social ladder. (Like Jack in the OverlookHotel, easily ignoring the horror of what he's being urged todo to his family, because he's so hungrily eyeing the desired



prize). Bill is quite ripe for corruption. It's come slowly to him,through money, his success, his charisma, and he's alreadypoised to take the next step forward (or downward), as shownby his total lack of outrage over what he finds in Ziegler'sbathroom. And Ziegler knew just who to call for help, amonghis many minions. Bill thinks he's endeared himself to Ziegler,but to Ziegler he's just another servant. And, all the while, thereal center of his life, his family, is slipping away from him atthe same pace with which he seeks adventure and recognitionaway from it. Because he's so out of touch with his own innerdrives, he's incapable of communicating his confusion to theone honest person in his whole sorry existence his wifeAlice.

Just as Jack Torrance, the permanent and lowly caretaker, isflattered into a sense of his own importance by themanipulations of Grady in the Overlook's men's room, so BillHarford is seduced by the belief that he's been taken intoZiegler's confidence, and is able to ignore the true sliminess ofthe setting involved. While Bill feels closer to the center ofpower through the bargain made in Ziegler's upholsteredbathroom, and greedily anticipates new and guiltfree liberties,he's merely played the mark to a craftier and vastly moreexperienced con man.

It would appear that, with each successive bathroom episode,Kubrick etched the importance of that room with greater clarityand directness. Here is the place where all ambition,pretension, and vanity are cast into stark relief against thereality of the physical bodies we inhabit, grow old in, die in. Nomatter how highflown humanity's grand designs are, peopleare ultimately seduced and fooled by them. These highly unglamorous plumbing facilities are the last chance available toremind us of natural laws, actual humanity, perhaps theintegrity of the animals we humans still simply are, and oftenresent being. Once we cross into the realm of living in ourheads, we've cut ourselves off from the wisdom andknowledge our bodies ground us in. If we only live in ourheads, and begin to lose the fear of the consequences ourbodies may experience due to our minds running riot, we'recertain to be smacked down by the brick wall of physicalreality. And there's hardly a more incontrovertible proof ofhuman existence than the necessary activities attended to inthe bathroom. Absolutely no pretense is possible sitting on atoilet. We can conquer the animals in our heads only so longas we remember exactly what we are animals in the "head."



References

Gelmis, J. (1970) The Film Director as Superstar. NewYork:Doubleday.

Goffman, E. (1963) Behavior in Public Places: Notes on thesocial Organization of Gatherings. New York: Free Press ofGlencoe.

(Jeff Westerman: Email: [email protected])

animals in my head'_ kubrick's preoccupation with bathrooms by jeff westerman

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