Grief: The Raven and The Babadook

What does Poe’s most famous poem have to do with an Australian horror film from a few years back? More than you might think. “The Raven” and The Babadook utilize similar plot lines to explore the inescapable nature of grief after the loss of a loved one. (Warning: This post contains spoilers for the movie The Babadook.)

Most of you are likely familiar with “The Raven,” Poe’s 1845 poem that first skyrocketed him into literary fame. The poem is told from the perspective of an unnamed speaker who mourns for his lost love, Lenore. One night, a raven comes in through his window and answers all of the speaker’s questions with one word: “Nevermore.” At the end of the poem, the speaker acknowledges that the raven is still sitting above his door, and his soul will be under its shadow forever. If you’d like to refresh yourself on the details, you can read the full text of “The Raven” here.

Somewhat more niche is The Babadook, a debut horror film written and directed by Jennifer Kent, which made waves among horror fans when it was first released in 2014. The story features a single mother named Amelia, whose husband died the same night she gave birth to her son Sam. Years later, Amelia and Sam discover a mysterious pop-up book that features a terrifying creature called the Babadook. Though Amelia initially dismisses the Babadook as fictional, it soon begins to take over her mind, showing her visions of violence and causing her to act erratically. Amelia finally confronts the Babadook, and the end of the movie shows the monster now somewhat docile, living in her basement. Amelia visits occasionally to feed it.

Both the poem and the movie center on a physical manifestation of the concept of grief. In Poe’s piece, grief appears as a talking raven. Though the speaker initially finds this raven impressive and elegant, he soon begins to view it with horror, likening it to a demon. The raven repeats just one word—”Nevermore”—which at first seems nonsensical, but then serves as a cogent, if depressing, answer to the speaker’s questions. A similar role is filled by a monster called the Babadook in Kent’s film. It appears as a humanoid creature that hides in the shadows, wearing a top hat and coat, with long talon-like fingers. Like the raven, it speaks mainly one word: “Babadook.” Though it has the sound of a nonsense, almost childish name, the creaky groans of “Ba-ba-dook-dook-dook” serve like a knock on the door announcing the creature’s presence.

While the manifestation of grief in these two stories takes different forms, the object of grief is the same: both the speaker and Amelia have lost a romantic partner. The appearance of the raven/Babadook serves to disrupt the inadequate ways that the protagonists have been dealing with the loss and their unrealistic expectations regarding grief. The first method that both protagonists attempt is to try to forget their loved one. Poe’s speaker asks the raven for “nepenthe,” referring to a drug that erases memories. Amelia buries thoughts of her husband by throwing all of her energy into work and parenting a difficult child. When this fails, they each hope to be spontaneously cured of their grief. Poe’s speaker asks if there is “balm in Gilead,” alluding to a Biblical medicine that often serves as a cure-all. Meanwhile, Amelia faces pressure from her sister Claire to somehow just “move on” and get over her husband’s death. But the real hope of both protagonists is to make their grief moot by being reunited with their loved one. Poe’s speaker asks the raven if he will “clasp” Lenore to him again in heaven. When the bird responds in the negative, the speaker becomes enraged. In the Babadook, Amelia sees a vision of her husband standing in the basement. She rushes over and embraces him, before realizing that he is only a delusion caused by the Babadook.

The ultimate message of both stories is that grief does not just go away. Just as the protagonists fail to get rid of their grief using the strategies above, so too do they fail to get rid of the physical manifestations of their grief. No matter how much the speaker rages at the raven to “Get thee back into the tempest,” the bird remains unmoved. By the end of the poem, presumably after much time has passed since the raven’s first appearance, the speaker bemoans the fact that the bird “still is sitting” above his chamber door, and that he will never be free of the shadow it casts on his soul. This point is even more explicit in The Babadook, in which the repeated phrase in the picture book is: “You can’t get rid of the Babadook.” Amelia tries to destroy the book and throw it away, but it only reappears undamaged. And no matter how much she runs from or tries to ignore the creature, she keeps seeing it everywhere. But while the speaker in “The Raven” despairs at the knowledge that the raven—and his grief—will be with him forever, Amelia finds peace in this revelation. Once she comes to terms with the fact that her grief won’t go away, she becomes better able to face it head on and begin to build a healthier relationship with it—as shown in the final scene when she brings the Babadook food, calms it down, and is able to return to a more normal life with her son.

Grief makes for a powerful monster in the horror genre, since the loss of a loved one is a very real fear that everyone eventually faces. But it’s important to remember that grief is not an enemy that needs to be defeated. Rather, it is an important human emotion that needs to be acknowledged and accepted. What are your thoughts on “The Raven” and The Babadook? Have you come across any other powerful works that deal with grief? Share your thoughts in the comments!