Shedding Skin: Why Snakes Keep Slithering Into Our Stories
Isn't it fascinating how certain symbols just stick? They burrow into our collective consciousness, reappearing across cultures and centuries in wildly different contexts. One of those potent symbols is the snake. It’s a creature that simultaneously evokes primal fear, seductive allure, healing power, and transformation – and filmmakers have been tapping into that complex symbolism for ages.
We don't often think about it consciously, but snakes are everywhere in film. They aren’t always literal serpents, of course; they represent something deeper. Think about how the wrestling world uses snake imagery - WrestleMania 2, with its larger-than-life characters and theatricality, utilizes the visual shorthand of a “snake” to signify cunning, danger, and even villainy. It's a quick way to establish a character’s persona without needing lengthy exposition.
But snakes aren’t just villains. Consider Cry Blood Apache. The film uses the imagery of survival – the lone survivor guiding the protagonist – as a metaphor for shedding an old skin, confronting past trauma and seeking redemption. That journey is inherently transformative, much like a snake molting its scales. It's about leaving behind what no longer serves you to reveal something new underneath.
This idea of transformation really resonates with me. I remember watching The Black Snake a few years ago – that gorgeous, melancholic film set in the Colombian desert. The protagonist’s return home isn't just geographical; it's an emotional shedding of layers, confronting his past and reconnecting with his roots. The harsh beauty of Tatacoa itself feels like a metaphor for this process - unforgiving yet ultimately life-sustaining.
And then you have films that use the snake as a symbol of corruption and hidden danger, like The Concubine. Gundik’s power isn't overt; it’s subtle, insidious – like a venomous bite you don’t see coming. The ex-soldier is drawn into her web, forced to confront uncomfortable truths about himself and the world around him.
Even something seemingly lighter, like The Bad Guys 2, plays with this idea of shedding old identities. These reformed villains are trying to leave behind their "bad" skins, but the allure of their past keeps pulling them back. It’s a playful exploration of whether true change is even possible. And in Muslihat, the supernatural disturbances could be interpreted as manifestations of repressed fears and secrets – metaphorical snakes slithering out from the shadows.
Ultimately, the enduring appeal of the snake in film lies in its ambiguity. It's not just about fear or danger; it’s about the potential for renewal, the uncomfortable truths we must confront to grow, and the constant process of shedding who we were to become something new. So next time you see a snake on screen – literal or symbolic – take a moment to consider what skin is being shed, and what might be revealed underneath.
