“Weapons” Witches and Women: A History of Witchcraft on Film

With the spirit of Samhain permeating through November, I feel obligated to speak about Weapons (Zach Cregger, 2025) in light of Witchcraft. I am happy to say that magic is beginning to be validated by social media, along with the depletion of many out-dated, marginalising belief systems concerning women. But it is definitely far from being embraced as a widely accepted practice, especially in contrast to institutionalized religions like Christianity. My question is, is Cregger’s new hit an empowering depiction of Witchcraft (and inevitably women)? Or does it further a fear of women in power?

Some of the most popular memes circulating at the time of this films release centred around Aunt Gladys as a ‘drag icon’, glorifying her camp aesthetic. Many have gone on to dress as the character for Halloween, or just for fun like Morgan McMichaels. Another classic piece of cinema that incorporates both Horror and Parody elements would be The Rocky Horror Picture Show (Jim Sharman, 1975), which continues to be shown at midnight screenings and has been beloved by the LGBTQ⁺ community since its release. Dr Frank-N-Furter, much like Gladys, is an example of how the gothic and the queer can interplay in a way that encourages admiration rather than the intended response of fear.

As previously mentioned in my Together essay, the intersection of different genres can enhance our emotional reactions to films, and better our understanding of our cultural contexts. Rick Altman uses an analogy of ‘generic anthropomorphism’ to explore this phenomenon, ‘whereby genres are regularly said to develop’ ^[1] and therefore evolve naturally to incorporate elements of multiple established genres. The characterization of Frank-N-Furter and indeed Gladys contributes to this idea, given their elaborate costume designs and melodramatic temperaments that are simultaneously jarring and fascinating. Gladys’ queer persona also ties in with readings of early gothic texts like Frankenstein: ‘It’s in that feeling of being unnatural, unattractive, unlovable; it’s about being abandoned by your creator, shunned by society’ ^[2]. This quote highlights how traditionally ‘othered’ members of society are drawn to figures of depravity, and women are unequivocally constituents in this larger whole.

Barstow’s essay on Witchcraft emphasises the displacement of a key part of women’s history through the modern stigmatisation of witch prosecutions^[3]. Abrahamic scripture is conclusively an ode to patriarchy, centralizing an omnipotent male God; provided Western society has been founded on these religions, Pagan and Earth-centred practices have been penalised, distorted and eventually neglected. However, contemporary feminism has sparked a revived interest in these beliefs, and Gladys’ embodiment of Wicca and alienation strengthens this.But the initial intention of filmmakers doesn’t always seem to align with the interpretations audiences have, and thus the liberation of witchcraft in Weapons is challenged. In an interview with the makeup designer of Gladys, Collins’ admits that he only aimed to create a ‘creepy’ character, not the camp archetype she became after mass screenings^[4]. Zach Cregger himself has confessed that the film is more an allegory for alcoholism, particularly in its connections to the The Shining (Kubrick, 1980)^[5], and Horror History on YouTube picks apart the parasitic symbolism that profiles Gladys as a wicked leech feeding off of the life force of children^[6].

Considering the theme of parasites specifically, we can endeavour to see Cregger’s work as more of an orthodox reflection on witchcraft. The Cavalier’s Dream (J Stuart Blackston, 1898) is often regarded as the first depiction of a witch on screen, and displays her as a decrepit ‘hag’ that shapeshifts into a seductive young woman. This motif has been fundamental in successive occult cinema, most notably Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (Walt Disney, 1937), The Witches (Nicolas Roeg, 1990) and of course Weapons. The concept of consuming souls in order to maintain a façade of glamour, and above all those of children, hones back to the treatise ‘Malleus Maleficarum’ that claimed witches would kill children and ‘cook them in a cauldron… to help us in our arts and pleasures’^[7]. This usurps the expectation on Godly women to bear children and be motherly in nature, exemplifying the continued demonisation of witches like Gladys as a mode of control.

Although I am doubtful this was Cregger’s objective, I do believe that a subconscious prejudice against older women that crave youth is still prevalent in the minds of the general public. As Pickard suggests: ‘the hag… is depicted with an essentially dual nature’; the site where repulsion and entertainment meet, which is exaggerated by their sustained lust for life and strength in the face of decay ^[8]. This is what enables Gladys to foster fear while also inspiring allegiance in certain demographics such as intersectional feminists. Hence, witches and women can be seen as empowered in this film, to the extent that Gladys personifies both criticisms and celebrations of female attributes.