Drawing on feminist geographer Gillian Rose’s work on the politics of spatiality (1993), we examine how the film’s central setting—a traditionally furnished, heteronormative home—is systematically transformed into a site of lesbian authority. The titular act of “dyking,” here used as a verb, signifies a structural and symbolic intervention: the literal and figurative reframing of a space designed for patriarchal or hetero-monogamous scripts into an arena for queer control. From the opening frames, Dyked establishes its protagonist’s (Mink) domain as a pastiche of bourgeois domesticity. The set design features floral wallpaper, a well-appointed kitchen, and a master bedroom with a four-poster bed—what art director Judith Halberstam (in a separate commentary) might call “the visual grammar of compulsory heterosexuality” (2018, p. 44). Mink’s character, initially presented as the aggressor, moves through this space with the ease of a homeowner, but the film’s framing quickly subverts this assumption.
Architecture of Control: Power, Materiality, and the Subversion of Domestic Space in Dyked (Dir. Arielle Faye and Mindi Mink) -Dyked- Arielle Faye and Mindi Mink - Under Her...
This paper provides a close formal and thematic analysis of the short film Dyked (2023), directed by and starring Arielle Faye and Mindi Mink. Often relegated to niche genre classification, the film merits serious examination for its sophisticated use of architectural space as a narrative device. The paper argues that Dyked subverts the traditional power dynamics of the “home invasion” or “captivity” genre by centering a queer female gaze. Through the analysis of mise-en-scène, camera work, and the titular symbolic act of “dyking” (repurposing a heteronormative space for lesbian agency), the film constructs a dialectic between confinement and liberation. Ultimately, Dyked uses its seemingly lurid premise to explore themes of negotiated power, material resistance, and the queering of domesticity. Drawing on feminist geographer Gillian Rose’s work on
The arrival of Faye’s character—coded as a visitor who becomes the captive—triggers a re-negotiation of spatial power. Close analysis of the blocking reveals that every doorway, countertop, and piece of furniture is used to delineate zones of control. Where a mainstream thriller might use chains or locked doors as primary restraints, Dyked uses proximity and access . The titular act of “dyking”—rendered through a series of close-ups on Faye’s hands as she repurposes mundane household objects (belts, ties, furniture legs)—transforms the domestic from a site of comfort into a site of deliberate, eroticized constraint. Central to the film’s argument is the fluidity of power. Mink’s performance oscillates between dominant and vulnerable, while Faye’s captive wields a different form of power: narrative attention. The camera, co-directed by the actors themselves, refuses the male-gaze tropes of fragmentation (Mulvey, 1975). Instead, Dyked favors medium and full shots that emphasize relational geometry—how bodies occupy and contest space together. The set design features floral wallpaper, a well-appointed
A key sequence involves a shift in lighting from high-key, neutral tones to a low-key, crimson wash. This chromatic change signals not a threat, but an intimacy of control . The film’s dialogue, sparse and direct, replaces conventional power threats with a lexicon of negotiation. “You’re under her…” the title suggests, but the film answers: “Under her gaze, under her command, under the same roof.” This ambiguity dismantles the clear victim/aggressor binary, proposing instead a mutual recognition of desire as a form of equalizing constraint. The most provocative theoretical contribution of Dyked is its redefinition of “dyking” as a material practice. In lesbian subculture, the term has a fraught history—as both a reclaimed identifier and a verb for certain sexual practices. Faye and Mink extend this into architectural and object-based territory. The film’s third act shows Faye’s character using a length of rope not to escape, but to rearrange the furniture, pulling a sofa away from the wall to create a new, diagonal axis across the room.
This act is the film’s thesis: to be “dyked” is to have one’s spatial orientation forcibly but collaboratively realigned. The home is no longer a prison; it becomes a stage for a new choreography. The final shot, a wide static take of the two characters seated opposite each other in the now-reconfigured room, suggests a détente—a new, uneasy but chosen order. The paper argues this is not a resolution but a provocation: queerness, the film suggests, does not destroy the domestic; it re-architects it from within. Dyked (Under Her…) is a minor film that poses major questions about power, space, and performance. By rejecting the lexicon of violence for that of spatial negotiation, Arielle Faye and Mindi Mink have crafted a work that functions as both a genre piece and a critical essay on film form. The film’s legacy may well lie in its demonstration that even the most coded, adult-oriented material can operate as sophisticated cultural theory. The home is never just a home; under the right hands, it becomes a contract—and contracts can be rewritten, reframed, and dyked.
Queer cinema, domestic space, power dynamics, Arielle Faye, Mindi Mink, material culture, feminist film theory. 1. Introduction The short film Dyked , directed by and featuring adult film veterans Arielle Faye and Mindi Mink, presents a unique challenge and opportunity for film criticism. On its surface, the film—whose full title continues “…Under Her…”—participates in the visual vocabulary of erotic thrillers and captivity narratives. However, a careful reading reveals a deliberate deconstruction of those genres. This paper posits that Dyked is not simply an exercise in niche titillation but a self-aware commentary on the weaponization of domestic space and the reclamation of power through queer performance.