Boxing Helena

Let’s Talk about Mommy Issues.

“Boxing Helena” is far better known for its notorious reputation than for its actual narrative. Jennifer Lynch’s feature debut has been unfairly dismissed as a cinematic catastrophe since its release—an assessment I disagree with.

The film is far from flawless. Even considering that Lynch wrote the script yet arguably shouldn’t have directed it herself, many elements feel misaligned: an uncertain control of the camera, cinematography that teeters between disjointed visual elements, and dialogues that sometimes veer into awkwardness.

However, paradoxically, these imperfections become the film’s unlikely strengths.

The technical discord feeds directly into its psychological impact, lending the entire feature a sterile, almost clinical atmosphere infused by distorted, dream-logic characters.

The performances of the lead actors—Julian Sands as Dr. Nick Cavanaugh and Sherilyn Fenn as Helena—are genuinely stunning. Cold, raw, and profoundly unsettling. Their stark, unvarnished commitment anchors the film’s central themes: the insidious nature of possession, portrayed in a deceptively passive manner.

While the prevailing reading frames the film as an exploration of toxic or co-dependent relationships, I must partially diverge from that interpretation.

The toxicity is undeniable, but what struck me was the thread of Nick’s unresolved mommy issuesrunning throughout. His mother, glimpsed in flashbacks, is selfish and overtly sexual, mirroring Helenain certain ways.

What initially appears to be a straightforward study of co-dependency gradually reveals itself to be an obsession rooted in Nick’s attempt to dominate what he could never command in his mother, reducing Helena to an inert object of control.

The fragmented and fragile similarity between the two women is crucial: the mother is indifferent, almost contemptuous of her son, while Helena is a young woman fiercely attached to her autonomy, seeking freedom and self-possession through her sexuality.

Everything shifts once Nick enacts his grotesque plan—abducting Helena and dismantling her piece by piece. Their dynamic mutates into a volatile circuit of hatred, frustration, self-loathing, misguided pleasure, dependency, and the faint phantom of what love might be.

The puzzle ultimately resolves itself in the finale, and it is there that the film’s dual female figures align with disturbing clarity.

To dig deeper would edge into spoiler territory, but the ending offered a radically different interpretation of the entire work, one that reframes all the previously mentioned emotional undercurrents.

Jennifer Lynch is undeniably influenced by her father, David Lynch, but unlike many nepo babies, she forges her own cinematic language—a language that defies its disastrous reputation to reveal a chilling, precise portrait of psychological decay.

I highly recommend watching or rewatched by it with an open mind and perspective. “Boxing Helena” is much more than a Razzie Awards winner. A misjudged film that needs to be rediscovered and appreciated.