From Monstrous to Empowered: Analyzing the Depiction of the Feminine in "Ghost in the Shell"

Mamoru Oshii’s 1995 film adaptation of the popular Manga, Ghost in the Shell is a riveting look into the year 2029, where technology has advanced into the creation of cyborgs, that are incredibly human-like. One in particular, Major Motoko Kusanagi (Atsuko Tanaka), trailblazes a fight against a cyber security hacker, The Puppet Master. The Puppet Master of course has ties to colonialism, due to his ability to hijack the brains of these cyborgs and utilize them to his will. This directly reflects colonialism in Asia where many Asian countries were overtaken and oppressed by European and Western powers resulting in a loss of culture and individuality for Asian individuals. The Puppet Master holds stark similarities to imperialism and colonialism, but shockingly the most profound commentary within the film can be found through the sexualization and de-sexualization of the female cyborgs. The character of Motoko Kusanagi is innate femininity when looked at through a narrow lens. Her body is flawless, and Oshii does not shy away from showcasing Motoko’s figure, but she differs from the other female cyborgs around her, for example the hyper-feminine secretary that the The Puppet Master hijacks, because of her non-feminine strength and power thus appealing to the abject.

At the beginning of the film, the audience is introduced to Motoko as she strips naked and descends from the top of a building. Here, her entire body is on display with full frontal nudity, albeit animated nudity, allowing the audience to view her objectively. This objective viewpoint continues as the audience watches the introduction and the making of Motoko. One shot in particular features only her torso as her body spins around presenting itself. She is woman in all of her glory, until she is not. Prior to this moment, Motoko’s body is showcased in its mechanical form. One can apply this to Julia Kristeva’s theory of the abject, as Barbara Creed states in her article “Horror and the Monstrous Feminine: The Imaginary Abjection,” “In general terms, Kristeva is attempting to explore the different ways in which abjection, as a source of horror, works within patriarchal societies, as a means of separating the human from the non-human and the fully constituted subject from the partially formed subject” (252). In this moment, Motoko is no longer the sex object that descends fully nude from a building but is instead a machine, a non-human. This separation takes away the desire of human lust and makes the audience shy away from their feelings towards Motoko’s appearance because her body is unnatural and cannot reproduce therefore separating her from the mother and the main object of feminine desire: procreation. Motoko has transformed from sexual being to the castrated woman, which according to Freud, is one of man’s worst fears.

The castrated woman ideology is one showcased many times throughout Ghost in the Shell. It is obvious that Motoko is programmed to be a war machine and not the womanly body that her brain possesses, but something that is unrecognized, until the end of the film, is the threshold of her strength. In her final battle with The Puppet Master, Motoko fights him head on and alone. One of the most riveting moments of the film occurs when Motoko is attempting to dislodge the attack vehicle that The Puppet Master is driving in order to kill him. Here, she is physically pulling on the top of the vehicle. Her muscles are strained as she pulls tendon by tendon. She is no longer this small feminine frame, but instead resembles the body of a male bodybuilder, the pinnacle of masculinity. One can apply this to “Monstrous Feminine” through the notion of The Medusa. According to Barbara Creed, Freud argued that “the Medusa’s head takes the place of a representation of the female genitals” (252). Medusa, of course, turned men into stone which Freud applies to the male castration anxiety, as he did most things, but the main subject of his point lays within how female sexuality differs from that of the male. Creed continues this point when she states, “One wonders of the experience of horror – of viewing the horror film – causes similar alterations to the body of the male spectator” (252). If that is the case, then Motoko can be seen as The Medusa. Her body, in this moment, appears inherently masculine, but it does not showcase the power of masculinity and instead the will of femininity. She will break down herself, and her image, for her end goal. When she transforms into this muscular being, she is the experience of horror itself because her body is altering into something abject.

Mamoru Oshii’s Ghost in the Shell is a riveting film, filled with essentialism, intertextuality, and of course interesting subtext. Not only is the film a great commentary on colonialism and imperialism, but it provides unique insight on the abilities of the feminine form through its profound interpretation of Motoko. From her introduction as a feminine being to her descent into the abject, one can relate her as a direct example of the capabilities the monstrous feminine can possess.