From Longlegs (2024) to M3GAN (2022) to Annabelle Comes Home (2019), creepy dolls are eerily at home on the big screen. Their cinematic history can be traced back to The Doll’s Revenge (1907) in which a young boy witnesses his previously destroyed sister’s doll reassemble itself, before tearing him apart and devouring him.
Over the course of the 20th century, cinematic dolls became more aggressively homicidal and the 1980s saw a significant shift in the killer toy sub-genre of horror cinema. Previously governed by puppets and ventriloquist dummies, as seen in Dead of Night (1945) and Magic (1978), in the eighties, the horror output spotlighted malevolent dolls, as can be seen in Curtains (1983) and Black Devil Doll from Hell (1984).
It was the latter part of the decade though, specifically the release of Dolls (1987) and Child’s Play (1988), that really won over horror fans.
Dolls is a somewhat unique film in that the other-worldly dolls it spotlights play the part of both antagonist and hero. The suggestion that these dolls possess a morality – however erroneous that morality may be – adds an additional dimension to the killer doll archetype presented to genre fans so far.
Indeed, Dolls actively encourages the viewer to favour these murderous dolls over their human victims. The transgressions these mortals commit, including theft and parental neglect, make them seemingly worthy of this unique form of punishment.
These dolls are not the glossy, mass-produced figures of Child’s Play. Instead they are humans metamorphosed into dolls as penance for their indiscretions. There is an inherent sentimentality to Dolls, echoes of which can be found in Annabelle (2014), Robert (2015) and The Boy (2016).
Dolls of the 2000s
Child’s Play was the first instalment in the “living doll” sub-genre’s most prevalent and durable cinematic franchise – Chucky. Charles Lee Ray, nicknamed “Chucky”, is a serial killer who moves his life-force into a doll, and persistently attempts to transfer his soul from the toy to a mortal body.
The Chucky films span five decades and six direct cinematic sequels alongside a TV series and film reboot. And a new Chucky film is anticipated in 2026.
In the 2000s, cinema-goers were gripped by haunted house horror, as seen in The Others (2001) and Paranormal Activity (2007) and exorcism horror, as seen in The Exorcism of Emily Rose (2005) and The Last Exorcism (2010).
The Conjuring (2013) deftly married these two subgenres to produce a purportedly true account of domestic horror that introduced viewers to demonic doll, Annabelle. The doll here exists primarily as a conduit – a haunted object that can manipulate the people and objects around her to do her macabre bidding.
Annabelle is notable for both her stillness and silence – something of an anomaly in a subgenre that tends to favour a “they walk, they talk, they kill” approach. The doll’s motion is largely limited to occasional subtle movements of the head, and she doesn’t speak throughout the series.
Instead, Annabelle prefers to occupy others, carrying out her will through unsuspecting hosts and purging the susceptible victims of their own autonomy in the process.
Annabelle, Chucky and other lesser-known icons of the deadly dolls horror subgenre, typify our enduring cultural fascination with animism (the attribution of life, and on occasion a soul, to an inanimate object) and anthropomorphism (the attribution of human-like characteristics or personality traits to an inanimate object). And more recent films, including M3GAN, are articulating new anxieties surrounding digital surveillance and artificial intelligence.
Read more: M3gan review: an animatronic doll is out to destroy the nuclear family – much to fans' delight
The horror of “living” dolls, after all, lies in their uncanny resemblance to something that it is inherently not human. Their faces, whether of porcelain or plastic, mimic our own and so are imbued with an eerily uncanny hue.
While the fantasy of a treasured toy coming to life may be a bewitching possibility, horror cinema directly threatens that notion as the childhood playthings it portrays become sources of suspicion, trepidation and terror, rather than pleasure.
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Sandra Mills does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
This article was originally published on The Conversation. Read the original article.
