Chapter 3

The Architecture of the We: Bubbles, Basements, and the End of the Individual

In the psychoanalytic study of both Bunny and Suspiria, the collective is not merely a

social group; it is a manifestation of the devouring mother archetype. This figure represents a

maternal love so total and suffocating that it prevents the development of a separate,

autonomous ego. In these insular environments the Warren University MFA program and the

Tanz Dance Academy the mother is a distributed force. She is found in the sugary sweet

endearments of the Bunny clique and the iron fisted choreography of the dance coven. The

goal of this manipulation is the same: the total absorption of the protagonist into a shared,

monstrous identity where the boundaries of the I are permanently erased. Maternal

manipulation functions here as a sophisticated trap of affection, where the warmth of

belonging is used as a lure to facilitate the psychological digestion of the individual.

In Mona Awad’s Bunny, the manipulation is famously sugar coated. The bunnies use

aggressive affection, pet names, and forced intimacy to dismantle Samantha’s psychological

defences. This is a perversion of maternal care that weaponises kindness. By calling every

member of the group bunnies, they perform a ritualistic erasure of the individual name. In

Lacanian terms, the name is the primary anchor of the symbolic order it is what gives us a

unique place in the world of laws and social reality. By stripping away Samantha’s name and

replacing it with a generic, repetitive label, the clique forces her back into the imaginary

order. They create a hall of mirrors where every face she sees is a reflection of the same

bunny ideal. This sugar sweet violence makes it impossible for Samantha to disagree or

depart, because to seek a life outside the group is framed not as a personal choice, but as a

betrayal of a sacred, sisterly bond. The manipulation thrives on the collective we, a pronoun

that acts as a psychic cage, drowning out Samantha’s internal monologue until her thoughts
are indistinguishable from the group’s sugary rot. The affection offered by the bunnies is

conditional upon total conformity; it is a soft, velvet lined trap that slowly suffocates the self

until nothing remains but a hollow vessel for the group's desires.

Conversely, in Luca Guadagnino’s Suspiria, the maternal manipulation is ancient,

hierarchical, and steel cold. The mothers of the academy Markos, Blanc, and Griffith do not

offer the cuddly warmth of the bunnies; they offer a sense of cosmic purpose and artistic

transcendence. However, this is a hollow promise designed to facilitate a predatory contract.

The coven views the students as literal vessels biological containers to be used, drained, and

discarded to extend their own immortal lives. Here, the devouring mother is a literal predator

disguised as a mentor. Madame Blanc acts as the good mother mirror to Susie, grooming her

through artistic validation and spiritual intimacy, while the hidden Mother Markos represents

the terrible mother who seeks to consume her. The manipulation relies on the transference of

power; Susie is encouraged to project her own desires for greatness onto the mothers, making

her a willing participant in her own consumption. In both works, belonging is revealed to be a

form of subjective death, where the warmth of the collective is actually the heat of a digestive

system. The trap of affection in Suspiria is built on the promise of being chosen, of being

special, which blinds the subject to the fact that they are being prepared for a sacrifice.

The success of this manipulation in both narratives hinges on the protagonist’s initial

state of fragmentation. Samantha and Susie both enter their respective institutions with a

profound psychological lack, a void left by isolation or repressed history. The collective

mothers sense this void and fill it with a distorted version of love. By offering a unified

identity, they provide a temporary relief from the pain of being a body in pieces. However,

this relief is a form of addiction. The subject becomes so dependent on the collective mirror

for their sense of self that they can no longer function outside of it. The trap of affection is

thus a self reinforcing loop: the more the individual surrenders to the group, the more their
independent ego atrophies, making the group even more necessary for their survival. This

process eventually leads to the total erasure of the I, as the protagonist is fully integrated into

the monstrous we. In the end, the devouring mother does not just kill her children; she

absorbs them, ensuring they never have to face the terrifying reality of being alone again.

In the psychoanalytic exploration of Bunny and Suspiria, the physical environments

of Warren University and the Tanz Dance Academy serve as literal maps of the human

psyche, specifically illustrating how the architecture of an institution can facilitate a total

retreat into the unconscious. These settings are not merely backdrops for the narrative; they

are active, predatory structures that house the monstrous collective. By analysing these

spaces through the lens of the dark academic environment, we see a deliberate construction of

isolation that allows for the suspension of social law and the flourishing of primal, repressed

drives. The architecture functions as a psychological container a womb like enclosure that

protects the group from the scrutiny of the outside world while simultaneously acting as a

digestive system that breaks down the individual identities of those within its walls.

The Warren University campus in bunny is the quintessence of a dark academic

bubble, a sanitised and elite enclosure that effectively severs the protagonists from the real

world. In psychoanalysis, this bubble represents a regressive space, a manufactured sanctuary

that mimics the safety of the womb. For Samantha, who enters this world burdened by

poverty, social alienation, and creative stagnation, the school offers a seductive promise of

elite belonging. However, the gothic aesthetic of ivy covered stone, hidden libraries, and

candle lit salons provides only a sophisticated veneer for what is essentially a psychotic

enclosure. Inside this bubble, the symbolic order the world of logic, external authority, and

shared social reality is strategically barred at the gate. The architecture of the school mirrors

the architecture of a mind in retreat; it is a space where the normal rules of cause and effect

are replaced by the internal logic of the clique. This isolation is what allows the bunnies to
engage in their rituals of projection and destruction without interference. Because there is no

big other, no outside witness to provide a reality check, the bubble becomes a hall of mirrors

where the collective imagination is the only truth. The school is a closed circuit where the

group’s desires are amplified and reflected back until they take on a terrifying physical

reality.

This dark academic isolation creates a specific type of institutional psychosis. The

campus is described as being cut off from the surrounding town, which is viewed by the

students as a grey, mundane, and inferior space. By devaluing the outside world, the

institution ensures that the students entire sense of self is tied to their status within the

university’s internal hierarchy. This is the first step in the devouring process. The architecture

of the bubble encourages a state of permanent childhood, where the students are shielded

from the consequences of their actions and the responsibilities of adult life. However, this

protection is parasitic. The school does not just house the students; it consumes their time,

their energy, and eventually their sanity. The basement of the swan house, where the Bunnies

perform their most violent acts of creation, represents the literal id of the campus. It is a site

of rot and hidden trauma, tucked away beneath the polished surface of academic life. In this

space, the gothic charm of the school is stripped away to reveal the raw, bloody machinery of

the collective mind. The bubble is not a place of learning; it is a psychological trap that keeps

the individual in a state of suspended development, forever circling the same repressed

desires.

In Luca Guadagnino’s Suspiria, the architecture of the unconscious is defined by its

verticality and its hidden, subterranean depths. The Tanz Dance Academy in Berlin is a

living, breathing organism, a labyrinthine structure that mirrors the layers of the psyche as

described in classical psychoanalysis. The upper floors of the academy, with their mirrored

dance studios and grand staircases, represent the ego and the public face of the institution.
This is where the dancers strive for the ideal I, practicing a choreography of perfection under

the watchful eyes of their mentors. The mirrors in these rooms are literal tools of the mirror

stage, forcing the dancers to constantly compare their fragmented, physical reality to the

unified image of the master performer. However, the true power of the academy lies in its

vertical descent. As Susie travels deeper into the building’s literal basements and sub-

basements, she is navigating the deeper strata of the unconscious. These underground

chambers are where the real of the coven is hidden: the broken bodies of those who failed, the

ancient, decaying remains of Mother Markos, and the ritualistic altars of blood and breath.

The academy’s location in 1977 Berlin adds a layer of historical haunting to this

architectural analysis. The city is a place of walls, divisions, and buried secrets, mirroring the

compartmentalisation of a traumatised mind. The building acts as a barrier against the

historical real of the outside world the political bombings, the trials, and the collective guilt

of the post-war era. Inside the academy, time feels stagnant, as if the coven is living in a

perpetual, monstrous present. The architecture creates a space where history is not something

to be learned from, but something to be repeated and fed upon. The descent into the basement

is a journey into the pre-verbal, pre-mirror stages of existence. It is here that the individual

identity of the dancer is stripped away to reveal the ancient, collective force of the mothers.

The building is a machine for the dissolution of the self; the further down one goes, the less a

person remains, until there is nothing left but the raw pulse of the drive. The architecture of

the academy does not just house the coven; it is the physical body of the coven itself, with its

hallways acting as veins and its basements acting as a dark, hungry stomach.

Comparing the bubble and the basement reveals the two different ways the monstrous

collective can inhabit a space. The Warren campus is a horizontal enclosure, a space of lateral

expansion and shared, sugary reflections that smother the individual. It is a world of surfaces,

where the terror lies in the fact that there is no depth, only an endless repetition of the same
hive mind image. The Tanz Academy is a vertical enclosure, a space of depth and ancient

roots that pull the individual down into a cosmic void. It is a world of secrets, where the

terror lies in what is buried beneath the floorboards. Both environments use the dark

academic trope of the hidden or forbidden space to represent the areas of the mind that we are

afraid to explore. Whether it is the secret workshops in the swan house or the ritual chambers

beneath the dance floor, these spaces are where the ego goes to die. They are the locations of

the final synthesis, where the individual is finally absorbed into the collective.

The dark academic setting is essential to this process because it provides a legitimate

excuse for isolation and obsession. In the pursuit of artistic or intellectual excellence, the

protagonists are encouraged to ignore their physical needs, their social ties, and their common

sense. The institution validates their descent into the unconscious by framing it as a necessary

part of the creative process. This is the ultimate manipulation of the architectural space. The

school or the academy is presented as a temple of high culture, but it functions as a site of

ritual sacrifice. By the end of their journeys, Samantha and Susie find that they cannot leave

these buildings, not because the doors are locked, but because they no longer have a self that

can exist in the outside world. They have become part of the architecture itself, living cells

within the monstrous collective. The bubble and the basement have successfully performed

their function: they have provided the space for the individual to be unmade and for the

devouring mother to be fed.

As the dissertation concludes this architectural analysis, it becomes clear that the

physical environment is the third member of the monstrous trinity, alongside the mirror and

the workshop. The setting is what allows the psychological processes to take place. Without

the isolation of the bubble or the depths of the basement, the protagonists would be forced to

engage with the real world, which would shatter the illusion of the collective. These spaces

are the guardians of the psychosis, the physical structures that keep the dream of the
devouring mother alive. They prove that the most dangerous place to be is inside a perfect,

elite, and closed system, for it is there that the mind is most easily dismantled and the soul

most easily consumed by the group.

“When you dance the dance of another, you make yourself in the image of its creator.

You empty yourself so that her work can live within you.” (Guadagnino, 52:15). The final

stage of the psychological journey for both Samantha and Susie is the absolute surrender of

the individual ego in favour of a collective identity. In psychoanalysis, the healthy

development of a person requires the ability to separate from the maternal figure and enter

the social world as an independent subject capable of original thought and action. However,

in the closed systems of Warren University and the Tanz Academy, this developmental

process is reversed. The protagonists undergo a form of psychic regression where the

boundaries that define the individual are systematically dismantled until they are absorbed

into the monstrous organism of the group. This is not a homecoming or a finding of oneself;

it is a profound annihilation of the subject.

In the world of bunnies, this erasure is achieved through the repetitive and hypnotic

use of language. The word used to identify every member of the group functions as a mantra

that slowly hollows out the individual. When the girls gather in their circle, they are no longer

a collection of distinct women with unique histories; they become a singular, pulsating entity.

Samantha’s struggle throughout the narrative is her attempt to maintain a private interiority a

secret self that she tries to protect from the prying eyes of the clique. But as she is drawn

deeper into the sugar sweet rituals, her internal monologue begins to crack and fade. She

starts to mimic the speech patterns, the superficial obsessions, and the coordinated cruelty of

the group. From a psychoanalytic perspective, this represents a total rejection of the outside

world and the social laws that govern it. Samantha stops trying to be a person in the real

world and chooses instead to live entirely within the imaginary reflection of the clique. The
collective identity becomes a psychic predator. By the time Samantha is participating in the

mass creation and subsequent slaughter of the physical manifestations of her desires, she has

lost the ability to distinguish her own needs from the group's hunger. The individual has been

replaced by a hive mind reflection, proving that in this elite environment, to belong is to

cease to exist as a separate entity.

In Suspiria, the erasure of the individual is even more radical and takes on a

metaphysical dimension. Susie Bannion does not just join a group; she is reclaimed by an

ancient, primordial power. Her journey is a slow stripping away of every layer of her human

identity the daughter from a religious background, the ambitious student, and the talented

dancer. These are revealed to be mere masks that must be discarded to reveal the ancient

force beneath. Unlike Samantha, who loses her identity to a group of her peers, Susie loses

hers to a cosmic hierarchy. The final ritual is the ultimate act of subjective destitution. When

Susie reveals her true nature, she is no longer a person with human emotions or a human

future. She becomes a force of nature, a representation of the real that exists beyond the reach

of human language or law. Her ascension is a terrifying form of integration where the self

and the other are no longer separate. She has become the authority she once sought, and in

doing so, she has moved beyond the possibility of a normal, individual life.

The comparison of Bunny and Suspiria reveals an unsettling truth about the nature of

creative belonging and the monstrous feminine. Both works suggest that for women in high

pressure, insular environments, the pursuit of wholeness or genius is often a trap that leads

directly back to a devouring collective. Whether through the sugar coated satire of an

academic program or the blood soaked ritual of a dance coven, the result remains the same:

the individual is sacrificed to feed the group. We have traced this journey through three

distinct psychological stages: the mirror stage of initial identification, the workshop of the Id

where creation turns violent, and the monstrous collective where the self is finally swallowed.
In the final stage of the psychological journey for both Samantha and Susie, the individual

ego undergoes a systematic dismantling that results in a state of total subjective destitution. In

classical psychoanalysis, the healthy development of a person requires the ability to separate

from the maternal figure and enter the social world as an independent subject, capable of

navigating the laws of language and society. However, in the closed, cult like systems of the

university and the academy, this developmental process is intentionally reversed. The

protagonists undergo a form of psychic regression where the boundaries that define the

individual are eroded until they are completely absorbed into the monstrous organism of the

group. This is not a homecoming or a discovery of the true self; it is a profound annihilation

of the subject in favour of the collective.

The collective, as seen in Bunny and Suspiria, is a manifestation of the devouring

mother archetype, a symbol of maternal love that suffocates individuality and autonomy. This

archetype is embodied in the insular environments of Warren University's MFA program and

the Tanz Dance Academy, where manipulation is wielded through affection and a promise of

belonging. The goal is total absorption into a shared, monstrous identity, erasing the

boundaries of the self.

In Bunny, the clique's aggressive affection and forced intimacy dismantle Samantha's

defences, stripping away her individuality and replacing it with a generic label. This

perversion of maternal care uses kindness as a weapon, making it impossible for Samantha to

disagree or depart without feeling guilty. The collective we becomes a psychic cage,

silencing her internal monologue and reducing her to a hollow vessel for the group's desires.

Conversely, Suspiria's maternal manipulation is ancient and cold, offering a sense of cosmic

purpose and artistic transcendence. The coven views students as vessels to be used and

discarded, with Madame Blanc and Mother Markos representing the dual faces of the

devouring mother. Susie is groomed through validation and intimacy, making her a willing
participant in her own consumption. Both narratives reveal belonging as a form of subjective

death, where collective affection is a digestive system. The trap is built on the promise of

being chosen, blinding the subject to their impending sacrifice. Manipulation hinges on the

protagonist's initial fragmentation, filling a psychological void with distorted love. This relief

is addictive, making the group necessary for [Link] the individual surrenders, their ego

atrophies, leading to total erasure of the self. The devouring mother absorbs her children,

ensuring they never face the terror of being alone again. These narratives illustrate the dark

allure of collective identity, where the promise of belonging comes at the cost of

individuality. The collective becomes a monstrous entity, consuming all in its path.

Ultimately, the devouring mother's manipulation is a sophisticated trap, using affection and

belonging as lures. The protagonists transformations serve as cautionary tales, highlighting

the dangers of surrendering to collective forces. The narratives pose haunting questions about

identity, autonomy, and the human cost of belonging.

The collective's grip is suffocating, leaving individuals hollow and consumed. The

devouring mother's love is a destructive force, erasing the self and reducing it to a mere

vessel. These stories serve as warnings, illuminating the darker aspects of human psychology

and the dangers of collective manipulation. It also explore the theme of individual erasure in

high-pressure, insular environments, specifically in academic and mystical contexts. In these

settings, the pursuit of belonging and wholeness leads to a loss of personal identity, as

individuals become absorbed into a collective entity.

In the academic clique, this erasure is achieved through repetitive language and

shared neuroses, stripping away personal history and reducing individuals to a singular,

pulsating entity. The protagonist's internal monologue cracks, and they mimic the group's

speech patterns and cruelty, rejecting the outside world and social laws. This represents a

total surrender to the collective, where individuality is sacrificed for belonging.

Similarly, in the world of the dance coven, the erasure of individuality is radical and

metaphysical. The protagonist sheds layers of human identity, discarding masks to reveal an

ancient, primordial force. The final ritual is an abandonment of self, where the protagonist

becomes a force of nature, beyond human emotions and language.

Both narratives suggest that the pursuit of wholeness or genius is a trap, leading to a

devouring collective. The individual is consumed, and their identity is lost. This journey can

be traced through the mirror stage of identification, the workshop where creation turns

violent, and finally, the collective where the self is swallowed. concludes that a total break

from reality is often the price of admission, as individuals refuse to live in the real world with

its loneliness and limitations, choosing instead to retreat into a closed loop of shared

hallucination. The magic in these texts serves as a psychoanalytic metaphor for this break,

where individuals sacrifice their souls for belonging. In essence, belonging becomes a zero

sum game, where individuality is lost, and the collective reigns supreme. The protagonists'

transformations illustrate the terrifying consequences of breaching the boundaries of self,

leading to a monstrous collective entity that consumes individuality. The narratives

demonstrate that the most terrifying monsters are not external threats but internal voids filled

with the approval and identity of others. The attempt to find a perfect mirror in a group leads

to the metaphorical basement of the mind, where the collective waits to consume the

individual.

Ultimately, it suggests that the pursuit of belonging and wholeness comes at a steep

price – the loss of individuality and autonomy. The collective identity becomes a psychic

predator, devouring all in its path, leaving behind a hollowed out shell where a person once

existed, now filled with the cold power of the group. The themes of identity, belonging, and

the human cost of collective absorption are starkly portrayed, serving as a warning about the

dangers of surrendering individuality to the pressures of insular environments. The narratives

serve as cautionary tales, highlighting the importance of preserving individuality in the face

of overwhelming collective forces.

By exploring these themes, it raises questions about the nature of identity, the human

need for belonging, and the consequences of sacrificing individuality for the sake of

collective acceptance. The narratives offer a glimpse into the darker aspects of human

psychology, where the desire for belonging can lead to a loss of self, and the collective

becomes a monstrous entity that consumes all in its path. In the end, it presents a haunting

portrayal of the human condition, where the pursuit of wholeness and belonging can lead to a

devastating loss of individuality, leaving behind a hollow shell of what once was a unique

and autonomous self.