‘Dr. Jekyll & Sister Hyde’: The Strange Case Of Being Non-Binary
I’ve never fit within the binary. As a kid, I expressed myself through lipstick, high heels, and an assortment of other garments labeled for women. And I often played pretend as my favorite iconic women (namely Kelly Kapowski from Saved by the Bell and T-Boz from TLC 一 I could do a sick “Waterfalls” solo). I also knew that I was attracted to men. I lived tortured with this duality, never able to define, understand, or fully explore it while trying to reconcile with my then-extremist faith.
Horror movies became a salve from this turmoil. I could escape into A Nightmare on Elm Street and Halloween for a few hours and emerge empowered, finding myself identifying with Nancy Thompson and Laurie Strode. The arc of the Final Girl brought joy to my little queer heart. As much as I later became emotionally attached to Jesse from Elm Street 2, a seemingly gay character working through his own identity crisis, I never felt quite represented on screen. In recent years, such films as Cat People, Frankenhooker, The Seventh Victim, and Freaky hold very dear places in my heart, with their willingness to dig deep into covert and overt queer issues with sharp-toothed texts.
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Even so, my story as a non-binary person still did not click completely together. That is, until I beheld what has since become one of the most special films of all time. Dr. Jekyll & Sister Hyde had been on my must-watch list for a few years. I was already privy to the controversy surrounding its depiction of transgender identity. As film critic Joe Lipsett summarizes, there are three prominent readings of the film 一 the first disregards any sexual politics; the second through a misogynistic lens; and the third suggests the film is entirely a progressive gender statement. Lipsett references one review in particular, from Queering the Closet, which highlights all the “transphobic elements.”
Another review, published on DVD-Drive-in, shines a light on how the film’s “gender-bending theme” was sensitively and magnificently explored. The author later describes Sister Hyde as the “personification of seductive charm: icy and irresistible at the same time.” There’s a clearly defined viewpoint placing this take firmly in the last category.
I was unsure what to think heading into the film. I also read contrasting opinions on Twitter. But I had to see for myself. I bought a digital copy and pressed play, unsure what sort of adventure I was about to experience. Needles to say, I was forever changed.
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The story, the characters, the emotionally-charged performances 一 the 1971 film feels progressive for its time. Pre-dating The Rocky Horror Picture Show by four years, a bold sexual perversity courses through its thematic and stylistic veins. As the stateside theatrical poster proclaimed, there’s “shock… after shock… after shock” when you witness “the sexual transformation of a man into a woman… before your very eyes!” There’s an additional warning label directed at parents, claiming they should “be sure your children are sufficiently mature to witness the intimate details of this frank and revealing film.”
Well, Dr. Jekyll & Sister Hyde (directed by Roy Ward Baker) is most certainly revealing, but in ways the filmmakers likely did not intend. Ralph Bates stars as Dr. Jekyll, who’s dedicated his entire life’s work to concocting a vaccine to eradicate all illness. When his mentor Professor Robertson (Gerald Sim) admonishes the futility of his experiments, Jekyll begins a new investigation into an elixir for life. He unwittingly stumbles upon a potion which transforms living male specimens into their female counterparts. What transpires is a surprisingly enlightened tale about queer identity, religious persecution, and self-loathing. It’s also wrapped neatly within the historical realm of Jack the Ripper and Burke & Hare (a pair of serial killers who sold corpses to a local anatomist for dissection and academic study).
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Jekyll is so consumed by his endeavors he expresses very little (if any) interest in women. Robertson scolds his pupil, reminding him how much he’s “been pleading to you for years” to get married. The persistent advances from a new upstairs tenant named Susan (Susan Brodrick) do nothing to deter his attention. If anything, he’s entirely annoyed by her. Jekyll’s fascination with women comes only when he discovers the key to unlocking immortality: female hormones.
An initial experiment on a male fly produces a female transformation and a fresh batch of eggs. Jekyll soon turns to Burke (Ivor Dean) and Hare (Tony Calvin) for cadavers, eventually paying them a hefty sum for a steady supply of bodies. He cooks up an everlasting serum and consumes it in one gulp. His transformation is a momentary one, lasting only a few minutes, but it’s just enough to validate his findings. In a new body, Hyde (as Jekyll calls his other half) relishes the supple curves, basking in her reflection and finding power emanating from her very soul.
Martine Beswick brings the character to life with magnetic elegance and sexuality, each frame delivered with soft command. She even lets Howard (Lewis Fiander), Susan’s brother, take an extended gaze upon her breasts. Beswick then unleashes a shrill, seductive cackle. This moment of sheer euphoria sets in motion Jekyll’s passage through his understanding of identity.
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When Hare and Burke are busted by the cops, Jekyll decides to do some killing of his own to continue his gender-bending crusade. His bloodlust lies inherently in his being. Hyde isn’t the monster of this picture; it was and always is Jekyll. Hyde only becomes a knife-wielding maniac when Jekyll surmises no one would ever suspect a woman to be such a ruthless villain. She then slips into the night, a fog draped like pea soup, and stalks the alleyways for prey. These murderous predilections are never at the expense of identity. Rather, they’re symbolic of an inner cyclone, conjured up out of years of suppression and societal restrictions. Hyde is Jekyll in their most sexually liberated form.
“I became more aware of her growing dominance,” Jekyll feverishly scrawls at his desk. When given the chance, his “stronger personality” imbues him with the courage to frequent the slinky and tantalizing figure of Hyde more and more. Identities eventually merge 一 Hyde slowly seeping into everyday life in conversations between Jekyll and Howard. In one particularly moving encounter, Jekyll reaches out affectionately for Howard’s cheek before abruptly pulling away and dashing around a corner. The suppression of identity, the most suffocating thing one can do in life, lies at the heart of the film. It inevitably leads to the one and only conclusion: death.
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Jekyll transmits their story to the audience through extensive letters, presented in bite-sized vignettes in the film’s introduction, as well as throughout the runtime and in the third act. The final declaration presents their truth in as cold a light as possible. Right up to the end, they were nothing if not honest and raw about their experiences. Jekyll had long moved through life living by society’s constrictive standards. It was only through hard scientific evidence that he learned to accept himself.
Unfortunately, it was too late to save him. When his apartment is raided by police, he sprints away and climbs to the rooftop, where he attempts to leap across to the next building. Instead, he tumbles to his death and crashes into the jagged cobblestone street. The film’s final moment reveals both Jekyll and Hyde mangled on the ground, their bodies and identities finally molded together as one. Once vivacious and intoxicating, their body grows numb, cold, and detached from the physical world. It’s as devastating an image of suicide as you can get. And it still clings to the back of my brain.
I’ve probably watched the 1971 film a dozen times in the last week alone. Each viewing blesses me with deeper and richer layers to further contextualize my own identity. I’m totally moved by Jekyll’s desperation and distress to find something resembling liberation. But I’m also fully energized in Hyde’s electrifying presence, brimming with sexuality, spirit, and courage. While Jekyll & Hyde could only escape their pain through death, it is their nerve to navigate a catastrophic world against all odds that emboldens me now. There are few true non-binary demonstrations as powerful and remarkable as Dr. Jekyll & Sister Hyde.
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