It's true! Vagina Dentata! Vagina Dentata! Vagina Dentata! - Dr. Godfrey
Contrary to the gynecologist's claims, vagina dentata is not real. But this film's darkly comedic take on female sexuality - and a woman's vengeance against conniving, aggressive male attention - is very much real. And amusing.
Teeth's protagonist, Dawn, is a high school abstinence advocate whose staunch stance against sex masks her deep discomfort with her own body. But like any horror movie, this discomfort doesn't stem from a physical standpoint, but from a psychological. Indeed, Dawn believes something's wrong with her... down there. But more than that, she's trying to navigate the tumultuous waters of adolescence, realizing that in order to love a boy, she must inevitably learn to love her own body first.
Conceptually, the film sounds like an early Cronenberg body mutilation/psychological destruction B-movie. But thematically, Teeth plays as a cheekier cousin to Brian De Palma's Carrie. Both films concern women who are intrinsically defined as abnormal, relegated to outcasts from the adolescent definitions of what a women should be and how a women should act. But while Carrie's manifestation of psychological terror is presented through telekinesis - which by definition, is more a mental power, a psychological belief, than a physical change - Dawn's method for vengeance is purely physical. Indeed, Dawn may live under the looming shadow of a nuclear power plant, but her condition almost seems to be a spontaneous adaptation - a genetic mutation - on behalf of her gender, a natural defense mechanism against unwanted male aggression.
Both films also build stories of female empowerment and aggression upon a foundation of Christian values. Carrie's mother is devoutly religious, believing her daughter's high school prom to be an occasion of sin and later, taking Carrie's telekinesis as a sign of the Devil. In this sense, Carrie not only battles the cruel jests of other teens, but also the oppressive beliefs of her own mother and in some sense, religion itself. With so many forces pressuring her, it's no surprise that Carrie's only logical conclusion would be the death of Carrie's bullies, her own mother, and eventually herself.
In comparison, Dawn's mother is not oppressive at all. In fact, the prologue clearly shows Dawn's mother and step-father as groovy 1960s lovers. At one point, her mother even questions why Dawn so adamantly supports abstinence when the rest of her family so clearly doesn't care. In this sense, Dawn doesn't necessarily battle restrictive rules imposed by her parents, but the apathy of society. No one cares what Dawn does, just like no man cares how his depraved sexual actions impact her.
It's this notion of apathy from which Dawn's vengeance blooms. Transforming from a naively innocent teen into a dangerously seductive woman, Dawn quickly becomes acclimated to the new power she wields in between her legs, realizing that her sexuality can be used to please her suitors as much as subject them to a most detrimental sort of decapitation. As such, it should come as no surprise that by the end of the film, Dawn has fully transformed into a woman actively seeking out vengeance against mankind, gleefully empowered yet maniacally destructive.
