Welcome to a new feature here at Horror Squad you can expect to find every Wednesday and Friday. It's called I Would Have Saved/Killed and it goes like this: one of our writers will pick a character, big or small, from a movie and explain how they, for whatever reason, would have altered the fate of that character.

Don't worry, we will never spoil anything pre-jump, though obviously everything after the break is operating under the assumption you've seen the film to the right, so be warned. And a big tip of our hat to Arbogast on Film for inspiring us with his post The One You Might Have Saved.



Name:
Wendy

Fate: Running around whimpering and being generally shrill

Cause of Death: N/A. She narrowly dodged the axe and presumbably escaped death by hypothermia.

Verdict: I Would Have Killed Her

Reason: In the Shining, Jack wasn't a complicated fellow. Sure, he had his demons. He had a checkered past, fraught with alcoholism and child abuse, but don't we all? He didn't ask for much. He just wanted to write. He just wanted some peace and quiet (and a little bit of booze) so he could work on his novel. It's not like the guy was going the Hunter S Thompson route, running off to Puerto Rico to get demolished on pills and ether. He just wanted to camp out at the Overlook for a while and type the days away.

But no. No, Wendy just wouldn't let the man work in peace. There has never been a more annoying, simpering, and frail character in the history of horror cinema. Yes, that includes Franklin from Texas Chain Saw Massacre. Wendy is a shrieking harpy. Her entire purpose seems to be to drive Jack crazy. Well, mission accomplished, lady! If she were following me around, with that sallow, judging look, I would have chased her with an axe, too! It's bad enough that Jack had to listen to Danny's Big Wheel rolling around the hotel all day long. Then she has to go and mewl and whine, interrupting the delicate creative process and keeping the man from his whiskey!

And she got Scatman Crothers killed. I hold her responsible for the death of Hong Kong Phooey.

Despite it's status as one of the most intense and beautifully shot films in the history of cinema, Shelley Duvall's pathetic waif of a character drives me nuts. I can completely sympathize with Jack's murderous rage. She's ineffectual, meddling, and is more of a prop than an actual character. Kill. Her.