If you like a horror film or two, think about this. W-while you’re clutching your popcorn, screaming at ghosts and chuckling at pratfalls, are these films sneaking in a cheeky lesson on feminism? Yes, horror comedies – those glorious mash-ups of jump scares and belly laughs – often moonlight as sly commentators on gender woes.

Take the Kannada gem Su from So, where our lad Ashoka (played by J.P. Thuminad) is your classic village bloke. He guzzles booze, dances like a loon at weddings, peeks at porn on his phone, and ogles the local lass. One night, he’s scaling a wall for a sneaky shower spy session – because, apparently, that’s peak entertainment in rural Karnataka. But oops! He tumbles, risking the label of ‘village perv’.
In a panic, he fakes possession by Sulochana, a female ghost from nearby Someshwara. Villagers freak out, spinning tales of her tragic past, and Ashoka’s fib spirals into a revelation about Bhanu (Sandhya Arakere), a woman hounded by creeps who’ve tried the same shower-stalking nonsense.
Suddenly, Ashoka’s ashamed – as he jolly well should be! He dons a sari, jingles anklets, paints his face ghoulish, and stomps off as Sulochana to scare Bhanu’s tormentors witless.

It’s hilarious: grown men quaking at a ‘ghost’ who’s really just calling out their casual misogyny. Real fear from a fake spook forces them to confront the daily indignities women endure.

This rebellious streak is baked into horror comedy’s DNA. Horror terrifies with monsters and isolation; comedy amuses with slapstick and mix-ups. Mash them, and you get a ‘knowing’ genre that parodies itself while sharpening focus on real-life rot.

It’s like a funhouse mirror – distorted, but revealing truths. Both genres thrive on shock, disgust, and subverting norms, giving outsiders a stage to flip the script.

Indian horror comedies love this ploy, using haunted houses, ancestral spooks, and dodgy witch doctors to expose society’s sneaky sexism. They’re hyper-local, eccentric tales that highlight the absurd odds against women: historic injustices, everyday slights, and bonkers expectations. Often, they empower female characters with supernatural mojo for delicious revenge fantasies. Ghosts as feminist avengers, turning the tables with a wink and a wail.

In Munjya (2024), a pushy male ghost obsesses over marrying a woman without a clue about consent – sound familiar? He’s the toxic ex from hell (literally). Enter Bittu (Abhay Verma), a sensitive hairdresser mocked for his ‘unmanly’ job, much like Vicky the tailor in Stree. Bittu’s emotional, grieves openly, and respects his crush’s choices, even when she’s picked another. Vanquishing the ghost? It’s code for ditching outdated macho nonsense. Hooray for alternative masculinities – who knew a haircut could be heroic?

The Telugu flick Subham (2025) has ghosts forcing controlling husbands to surrender the TV remote – because nothing says ‘marriage equality’ like supernatural nagging. And classics like Manichitrathazhu (1993) and its remakes (Apthamitra, Chandramukhi, Bhool Bhulaiyaa) feature possessed women exacting revenge for historical wrongs. Tamil Kanchana (2011) even has a man team up with a transwoman’s spirit for justice. These films whisper (or shriek): only ghostly fear makes some men behave!

Roohi (2021) flips it to female agency. Amid bride kidnappings and a witchy ghost called Mudiyapairi (also marriage-mad), Roohi (Janhvi Kapoor) shifts from victim to boss. Her ghostly alter ego empowers her to ditch forced husbands and choose… herself. It’s convoluted, but charmingly so – like a spectral self-help seminar.

Bengali Goynar Baksho (2013) has a feisty widowed aunt return as a ghost, using her gold stash to boost family women towards freedom and, ahem, sexual fulfilment. In Stree (2018) and its sequel Stree 2 (2024), the ghost is a wronged courtesan avenging her murder for daring to choose her own love. She flips gender roles: men cower indoors at night, fearing abduction, while women roam free. In the sequel, Stree slays the patriarchal baddie Sarkata, liberating Chanderi’s ladies.

Globally, the pattern holds with cultural twists. In Jennifer’s Body (2009), Megan Fox’s succubus devours boys, reversing predator-prey dynamics – her mum hands out pepper spray to lads! Teeth (2007) gives Dawn ‘vagina dentata’ for weaponised virginity, making men fear sex. Symbolic castrations abound in A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night (2014), where a vampire skates after bad men, sparing the good ones. And Ginger Snaps (2000)’s werewolf teen quips that girls are stereotyped as sluts or virgins – until they bite back.

Horror comedies prove society’s blind to women’s power, but these films coast on that, delivering feminist zingers amid the laughs. They’re not preachy; they’re playful, showing equitable worlds where women reclaim agency, men evolve, and ghosts enforce manners.

So next time a spectre scares you silly, chuckle – it might just be feminism in fancy dress.

FRANK KRISHNER IS AN INDEPENDENT COMMUNICATOR AND MEDIA SPECIALIST. THE OPINIONS EXPRESSED IN THIS PIECE ARE THE RESPONSIBILITY OF THE AUTHORS.

An article by Sucheta Chakroborty inspired this piece.

  Film, horror, Kanchana, Munjya, Roohi, Su from So, Subham