Weaving Webs of Interpretive Analysis (Nov 5, 2020)
-You,
you’re the spider woman, that traps men in her web.
-How
lovely! Oh, I like that.
-…
(Puig
260-261)
Manuel Puig’s novel The Kiss of the Spider Woman is
brilliant in both its concrete criticism against the binary gender constructs
societies uphold and its abstract interpretations of the psychological states
and positions of its characters. At its
core, it pits two cellmates together who embody opposing gender standards and
expectations. Categorized by Shari
Zimmerman’s article “Kiss of the Spider Woman and the Web of Gender,”
Valentin is the stereotype of what it means to live up to machismo while
homosexual Molina rejects this repressive male mold in favor of a more
characteristically feminine identity (Zimmerman 1). Serving as foils to one another, they both
emphasize the restrictive limitations and failures of each gender’s traditional
roles while simultaneously evoking questions as to the legitimacy and longevity
of the binary gender system the majority of the world operates on. And yet what
makes it all the more intriguing is the complex evolution of the thought and
relationship between Valentin and Molina throughout the novel despite their
differences, that which is easily observable and that in which interpretation
and analysis is necessary to deduce.
One of the most striking and thought-provoking aspects of
the included citation is Valentin’s eventual conceding to Molina’s gender
identity. One of Valentin’s initial
aversions and struggles in relating to Molina was his ignorant inability to
comprehend Molina’s departure from traditional male expectations: “Look, you’re
a man just as much as I am, so cut it out…” (Puig 58). In valuing the male construct society has
instilled in him, Valentin is subsequently condescending and overcritical
towards the feminine Molina. Not only
does his distaste towards traits commonly associated with women reveal a strong
hostility and sense of male superiority, it heavily infers an inherent
inappropriateness and weakness in Molina’s character for adopting femininity in
place of masculinity. This rough
beginning is what makes this reconciliation so interesting as it exhibits a
drastic shift in Valentin’s tolerance for more modern and fluid gender
systems. While both their emotional and
sexual intimacy together prove to be factors in Valentin’s thought
transformation, it is fascinating to attempt an interpretation of why these
factors led to such “success.” Was there a genuine affection and connection
that revolutionized Valentin’s once limited perspective? Or perhaps this
admitted allusion to Molina’s identity as a woman is more for Valentin’s sake
than he lets on. This idea can be
further elaborated on when it comes to the nickname “the spider woman.”
The moniker “spider woman” is an oddly specific and vivid
image that though Valentin does not elaborate on, can be interpreted with depth
and vigor. In conjunction with the verb
“trap,” the label implies a forcible or dangerous nature to Molina. Operating
under the blind assumption that Valentin is unaware of Molina’s espionage, he
would have no reason to think the admittedly submissive Molina would be an
imposing or suspicious seductress: “The kick is in the fact that when a man
embraces you…you may feel a little bit frightened” (Puig 244). Thus, an interpretive analysis of this
moniker could move in two directions: one, in which Valentin uses specific
diction to assuage and reconcile his heterosexual subconscious in light of
their intimacy and two, could hint at a suspicion or knowledge of Molina’s
betrayal as a spy. In the first
interpretation, the language Valentin uses could be the result of his own
subconscious comforting him and justifying their intimacy, placing
responsibility of the homosexually charged activities they partook in on
Molina. While he has developed
thoroughly since the beginning of the novel, it would be unwise to assume Valentin
could entirely disintegrate his machismo and heterosexual ideals to be fully
comfortable in this sexual exploration and ambiguity. Valentin could have deep, authentic affection
for Molina in spite of gender and sexuality expectations; however, these ideals
are deep rooted and stifling enough to plague the undercurrents of Valentin’s
thoughts. By referring to Molina as a
“spider woman” that “traps men,” this line of thought enables Valentin to take
these sexual liberties that he would otherwise view as unfavorable or
inappropriate by distancing himself from his own accountability in engaging
sexually with Molina. With the second
interpretation, Valentin could be suggesting his knowledge of Molina’s
espionage by directing referring to Molina’s actions as a trap, bringing forth
the similar comparison of the spider who lulls and traps its prey. While the two interpretations are not
mutually exclusive, they can be categorized as separate directions of analysis
due to both arguments existing with support from Valentin’s morphine induced
dream.
Valentin’s dream at the end of the novel is, like the
entirety of Kiss of the Spider Woman, enriched by juxtapositions and
hidden contexts. Particularly, the
significance of the scene is emphasized by both absence and presence. While Molina as she existed in reality was
not present or visible within the dream, she was simultaneously the very star
of it. Appearing as the very moniker
Valentin bestowed upon her, Molina takes the literal form of a spider
woman. Further delving into interpretations
revolving around gender and sexuality, this form could be Valentin’s way of
actually seeing Molina or perhaps how his mind is most comfortable picturing
Molina due to their physical intimacy.
The latter proves to be more likely, as his depiction of the spider
woman reveals an aversion and grotesque curiosity to her nature: “Such a
strange woman…Poor creature…Disgust [me]…it makes me queasy to touch” (Puig
280). The “hairy” spider webs
materializing from within the spider woman could in fact be the metaphorical
manifestation of Molina’s male characteristics, which would explain Valentin’s unease
and disgust seeing it upon an otherwise feminine creature. Though he assuaged Molina he had no revulsion
or regret from their sexual encounter (221), this scene is symbolic of macho
Valentin’s subconscious discomfort in engaging sexually with Molina who may in
fact be a woman but is one still stuck within a man’s body. Interestingly enough, his own subconscious
that hyper fixates on their sexual relationship is the same one that admits and
draws attention to the enjoyment he received from it: “’But you enjoyed it and
I shouldn’t forgive you for that’” (280).
Again, this admittance demonstrates that sexuality is much more complex
than to be categorized in a binary system and yet the prevalence and power of
sexual repression inflicts shame and confusion on those who stray from the
standard.
Likewise,
Puig’s constant reference to Freud’s theories (rife throughout the book regarding
sexuality) are nowhere to be found throughout Valentin’s dream sequence and yet
are ever present when one takes into consideration Freud’s dream theories and
how they serve to interpret Valentin’s dream.
For context, the Freud Museum in London discusses Freud’s theory on
“wish-fulfilling dreams” and how dream distortion specifically denotes a
repressed or forbidden wish being fulfilled within the dream through disguised
or censored imagery (“Dream Distortion: The Interpretation of Dreams”). Knowing Valentin has called Molina the spider
woman before, it is easy to see that his dream has disguised Molina as such in
a very literal context. In which case
the argument could be made that Molina is the forbidden wish he wants
fulfilled, his repressive and internalized masculinity disguising Molina as a
literal woman as a means of censorship to what society may otherwise think of
as “wrong” or “inappropriate.”
This wrongness could, as previously noted, could alternatively
be linked to Valentin’s possible knowledge of the true nature of Molina’s
pardon. From the dream sequence it could
be gathered that Valentin did not want Marta to possess any information
regarding his cause and his group knowing the inherent harm it could bring her:
“Marta, oh how much I love you…I was so afraid you were going to ask me that
and then I was going to lose you forever” (Puig 281). Is this a response to Molina’s death or the
reason for it? In the beginning of the
novel, Valentin knew better than to divulge information about his revolution to
Molina: “I don’t want to saddle you with any information you’re better off not
having” (35). It is curious what factors
led to Valentin’s decision to inform Molina about his group, knowing his
previous reluctance to share such valuable, deadly secrets. Could it have been a setup? After all, for what reason would Valentin
want to separate himself from Marta to save her and involve Molina other than
to kill him? Unless the traditional male
figure ran so deep within Valentin’s subconscious that he would set Molina up
to permanently remove her from his life, it would be feasible to say that Valentin
suspected more from Molina than he verbally admitted to. As a revolutionist who proved to know the ins
and outs of working against the government, perhaps his part in their intimacy
was meant to build a bridge that would allow Molina to switch sides and benefit
the cause. However, these are not
thoughts voiced throughout the novel. It
is more so in the words not said that this interpretation finds more
foundation.
This introduces the significance of the ellipses
throughout Puig’s work. While they take
the form of silence or lack of response, the ellipses imply much more depending
on the context in which they are used.
Consider the included citation at the beginning of this essay when
Valentin responds to Molina’s enthusiasm towards being labelled a spider woman with
“…” (260-261). He neither agrees nor
disagrees with Molina interpreting the label as “lovely.” Is the silence indicative of Valentin’s
hesitance, a dishonesty, a vulnerability?
The more praise Molina lays on him, calling him one of the two most
important people in his life, Valentin continues with the ellipse’s
response. Depending on the interpretive
lens used, this pause could have several meanings. Is Valentin silently expressing feelings of
guilt, disbelief or discomfort? Ellipses
take up little space but that does not negatively impact its inherent
significance. They reveal a depth of
thought and insight that is unknown to the readers, belonging only concretely
to the characters from which they erupt from.
They portray a sense of lifelikeness, allowing the characters to have
their own, real independent thought processes and untold motives that readers are
denied access to and can only hypothesize about. The readers lose control of the mind reading
capabilities they may be more accustomed to with other texts.
While the insight readers receive through Molina’s
thoughts may seem to conflict with that statement, there are still clear instances
of Molina’s motives being unclear or undisclosed. Molina also makes use of ellipses when words
would otherwise be failing or, reversely, too revealing:
-I lost my head,
I’m sorry, honestly.
-…
-Molina, please
forgive my damn temper.
-… (Puig
194)
This
moment can be seen as speechless surprise or even an unspoken guilt Molina
feels for having brought Valentin to the point of eruption, having stolen
Valentin’s sense of control through both their small, daily interactions and
through her betrayal as a spy. Ellipses
are not the only form Puig utilizes to capture lifelikeness; Puig mimics stream
of consciousness throughout the novel, concocting bizarre and abstract thoughts
that reveal more about the characters’ internal thoughts and feelings. Prime examples of this are riddled within
chapters nine and ten, when both Molina and Valentin have vivid, drifting
thoughts during Molina’s retelling of the zombie movie. While they are both engaged in the verbal
storytelling, each are preoccupied with their own thoughts which seem to
include the other. Though Valentin’s
thoughts first begin with dark imagery that seems to highlight his experiences
as part of the cause, “-Police patrol, hideout, tear gas, door opens,
submachine-gun muzzle, black blood of asphyxiation gushing up in the mouth”
(Puig 158), they take an eventual turn toward Molina: “Impassive gaze of the
learned executioner down upon the poor innocent cortex of a chick from
suburbia, of a fag from suburbia…” (188).
Valentin has never referenced or admitted to knowing any other
homosexual or a woman born biologically male outside of his experience with
Molina. Even more telling that this
thought revolves around Molina is the crime the chick is executed for: “Hanging
out at the movies when she’s supposed to be in church” (187). On a deeper level, this line of thought could
be Molina’s refusal to repress herself for the sake of her society and how her
self-assured nature could be misconstrued as activism against her repressive
government. It could also be a
reflection of Valentin’s fears, worrying that growing any closer to Molina puts
her in increasing danger due to the nature of his imprisonment. He could be seeing himself as the impassive
executioner, the individual grown accustomed to such a lifestyle that either
through intended or unintended actions will be the death of Molina. Either way, this metaphorical death sentence
symbolizes a wall still in place between them that is preventing Valentin from openly
expressing a desire to deepen their relationship.
Molina has a starkly different thought
process but it is one just as revealing as Valentin’s. True to her nature of fantastical escapism,
Molina’s stream of consciousness plays out much like the movies she
recounts. Whereas Valentin’s stream of
consciousness deals more directly with his past experiences, Molina’s is shaped
through the story of a night nurse caring for an ill patient: “Poor nurse,
they assign her to a patient on the critical list and she doesn’t know how to
keep him from dying or killing her” (Puig 172). Like Valentin, Molina is subconsciously
elaborating on her relationship with Valentin.
Molina’s nurturing nature caters perfectly to the role of the nurse,
caring for her cellmate despite his cruelties toward her. Valentin represents the patient, assigned by
the Warden to spy on this critical criminal.
She is internally tormented trying to find a balance between keeping him
safe and selling him out for her own benefit, a task that grows increasingly
difficult as their bond becomes more established. It also serves to reveal an affection beyond
simple companionship as Molina’s thoughts conform to the romantic feminine
ideal of submission against a more dominant male force, picturing “the youngest
and prettiest nurse, all alone…with the young patient, if he hurls himself upon
her the poor novitiate could never escape him” (188). The utilization of stream of consciousness,
although it may initially appear as startling and random among the plot of the
zombie movie, inform the reader of the deeper connections and feelings between
these two characters without outright stating it. It is the nuance of the method, like that of
ellipses, that make a more profound impact during interpretive analysis.
The revelation of romantic attachment
in Molina’s stream of consciousness seems to confirm the beliefs of the Marta
in Valentin’s mind and Zimmerman, who both suggest an either unwitting or
deliberate choice on Molina’s part to “ultimately act out the role of the
leading lady who dies for her lover” (Zimmerman 111). Molina’s romanticism of the tragic heroine
definitively affects her decision to agree to Valentin’s request, wanting to do
what is necessary to make Valentin happy and make herself useful to him:
“Molina is eager to become the instrument of another’s pleasure” (Zimmerman
111). This much is true; Molina is
consistently mothering Valentin throughout the novel, doing whatever and
whenever necessary to both care for and please Valentin. Whether it is pandering to Valentin’s stomach
through his provisions or cleaning up after him when he is poisoned, Molina
makes it a point (beyond what is necessary to convince Valentin of her
trustworthiness) to lend a helping hand without being asked. While this submission is her undoing,
Zimmerman is right to note that it does not necessarily equate to a lack of
power from Molina (111). Zimmerman
begins to talk about Molina’s sexuality and appeal as one of her powers yet it
can be argued that the more traditional, maternal instincts valued in women
provide them an understated power against their male counterparts.
Binary gender roles dictate that men
are the naturally strong and dominant sex while women are born the weaker and
more submissive sex. As embodiments of
these roles, Valentin and Molina are no exception: Valentin stresses the
importance of men upholding their strength and masculinity while Molina aims to
fit into the standard womanly role of gentleness and subservience. Valentin always feels the urgency to remain
in control while Molina desires to relinquish her power to another. Puig, with his method of juxtaposition, thus
emphasizes an immense irony in Molina’s considerable power over Valentin’s
wellbeing and livelihood. While Valentin
once deemed Molina’s feminine habits as weak, it was those habits and
Valentin’s underestimation of them that provided Molina the strength and
advantage to manipulate situations for her own benefit. It was Molina’s feminine nature that both
nurtured Valentin and misguided him, lulling him into a false sense of security
in order to discreetly elicit important information that would grant Molina her
pardon. Its effectiveness is impressive,
as even the readers have been lulled into believing Molina’s actions to be
selfless and unmotivated when compared to Valentin’s own brusque behavior. Though in the end Molina decides against
embracing this power over Valentin, the power imbalance between them indicates
a severe societal miscalculation of women’s autonomy and cleverness that allows
them to weaponize traits previously thought to be docile.
Works Cited
“Dream
Distortion: The Interpretation of Dreams.” Freud Museum London, 17 Dec. 2019, www.freud.org.uk/education/resources/the-interpretation-of-dreams/dream-distortion/.
Puig,
Manuel. Kiss of the Spider Woman. Vintage International, 1979.
Zimmerman,
Shari A. “‘Kiss of the Spider Woman’ and the Web of Gender.” Pacific Coast
Philology, vol. 23, no. 1/2, 1988.
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