Queer Horror: The Good, Bad and Ugly
Tim Curry and Meat Loaf in The Rocky Horror Picture Show (1975). 20th Century Studios.
JUlY 2, 2024
Horror is a wide-spanning genre, covering all manner of subgenres, mediums, and quality. While there’s definitely something for everyone in the realm of horror–queer or not–sometimes it’s easy to figure out why a film has mass appeal…or why a film is despised. So, as we exit Pride Month and head into Spooky Season, I’ve decided to embark on an incredibly subjective and self-indulgent task: the good, the bad, and the ugly of queer horror.
Hellraiser (1987). Entertainment Film Distributors
The Good:
Obviously “good” is a subjective qualifier. However, there’s a reason why some works of queer horror reach the status of “iconic”, or even “cult classic”. It could just be that the movie is good on its own and happens to have an implied or explicit queer character. It could be that, while the movie has niche appeal, it happens to have good representation or serve as a prescient metaphor.
Easy examples of “good”, or at least iconic, queer horror include The Rocky Horror Picture Show or Hellraiser. The former exemplifies the camp and glamor of queer celebration. It’s a celebration of the futility of heterosexuality and the fun that comes with self-acceptance. Hellraiser is much moodier and seriously erotic, rather than the exaggerated eroticism of Rocky Horror. Clive Barker’s depictions of eroticism as indistinguishable pain and pleasure through the Gash of gender non-conforming Cenobites has clear influence from gay leather scenes. While the films are diametrically opposed in tone and visuals– bar the BDSM aesthetics present in both, to varying degrees–they’re both films unabashed in their queerness.
Arguably, the entire Child’s Play franchise, or at least the franchise with Don Mancini’s involvement, is also good queer horror. Mancini has consistently emphasized the queerness inherent to the central premise. Even before the franchise introduced an openly gender queer doll or featured an openly gay protagonist, the concept of a man stuck in a body that doesn’t belong to him obviously had the potential to resonate with queer people. As the series has continued and Mancini fleshed out the queer themes of the franchise further, it’s clear that Chucky, Tiffany, and Glenn are truly the queer first family of horror.
Kevin Bacon in They/Them (2022). Blumhouse Productions
The Bad:
So what exactly makes a “bad” example of queer horror? Well…that’s harder to pin down. There’s not really an equivalent of canonizing what is bad, and tastes obviously change. There’s plenty of iconic works of horror, queer or not, that have a lot of things intentionally in bad taste. That’s why I tend to qualify “bad” queer horror not in terms of “bad taste” but in terms of blandness. The worst offenders are boring, run of the mill horror films that coast on having a(n) explicitly queer character(s); this is much more of a recent phenomenon, and it’s yet to yield a single decent result. The second kind of offender, as to be expected,
That being said, everyone’s examples of “bad” queer horror is subjective. I’d call the Fear Street trilogy bad movies but not bad queer horror. Same goes for the Hellraiser remake from a few years ago: bad movie, perhaps not an awful example of queer horror. Even something like Hellbent isn’t a great film in terms of craftsmanship, but it’s great fun and unabashedly gay. Same thing with Stuart Thorndike’s Lyle: just because I don’t care for their take on Rosemary’s Baby, doesn’t mean it’s automatically bad.
A textbook example of bad queer horror, at least as of late, is They/Them. As soon as this film was announced, I remember a collective groan from any and all queer horror fans and entertainment critics. And, although it wasn’t as bad as its synopsis led many to believe it’d be, it was pretty bad. Obviously setting a horror film at an active conversion camp is an interesting choice that could go south in a million ways, especially since the promotion for the film neglected to mention if the film would be tackling the rampant abuse that occurs. Unfortunately, the film not only provides an extensive cast of one-note queer protagonists and slapdash handling of sensitive topics surrounding conversion therapy make the film not just a subpar slasher, but also a bad example of queer horror.
I’d also like to submit Lucky McKee’s films, primarily May and All Cheerleaders Die, for this section. These films have just the most egregious examples of homophobic tropes in the shape of thin characters. It’s less bad in May since the one lesbian character, Polly, is relegated to the side and killed off unceremoniously. Unfortunately the “side” she’s relegated to is annoyingly horny bordering on sexual harassment. All Cheerleaders Die, a movie allegedly highlighting the sexualization of women under the patriarchy, sexualizes its lesbian and bisexual characters the most. For a set of films that claim to be feminist and encompassing of queer women’s experiences, they do a fantastic job of both objectifying and demonizing lesbian and bisexual women.
Simon Northwood in The Silence of the Lambs (1991). Orion Pictures
The Ugly:
Calling a film an ‘ugly’ example of queer horror is obviously loaded and ambiguous. I’m deciding to use this slot as a space to discuss the works of queer horror with complex legacies. Films that, while undeniably ingrained in both the subcultural and wider perception of queer horror, have some baggage tied to them. These aren’t necessarily bad films or films that haven’t been accepted in the ranks of queer horror fans, quite the opposite. These are films where their portrayal of queerness or transness, despite re-evaluation, have complex legacies within the space of queer horror.
The most obvious example is The Silence of the Lambs and Buffalo Bill. Despite the film itself, director Jonathan Demme, and actor Ted Levine denying that Buffalo Bill is any form of queer or trans, he’s still widely recognized as a transsexual character. In the same camp, albeit to a different extent, is Sleepaway Camp. While lacking the mainstream recognition of Silence of the Lambs, the film is unambiguous in calling its killer a transsexual. While it has quite a reputation as a cult classic horror film, thanks to its homespun feel and quirky sense of humor, the twist of Angela being transsexual similarly overshadows any other element of the film.
The irreparable damage that having a visibly gender non-conforming serial killer had on the cultural perception of trans people hangs over the films like a specter. Although some trans scholars, writers, and horror fans have willingly adopted Buffalo Bill and Angela, it’s still not the dominant legacy of the characters.
Taste is, obviously, subjective and my parameters for what counts as good, bad, or ugly aren’t gospel. Although there’s a solid, ever-growing stable of queer horror– 2024, especially, being a fantastic year for both independent and studio releases–everyone has their own taste when it comes to queer horror. And whether you gravitate towards the good, the bad, or the ugly there’s bound to be a queer horror classic for you.
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Whatever you watch this month, keep it queer and spooky.
Right now, our Queer Fear screeners are in the middle of watching some amazing submissions, and can’t wait to bring you a festival full of the best new queer horror shorts and features this fall.
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Red Broadwell is a first-year film studies MA student at the University of North Carolina Wilmington. Their other work can be found at https://redbroadwell.journoportfolio.com
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Are you a queer horror or dark genre filmmaker? Our 2024 call for entries is now open! Check us out on FilmFreeway.
Stay spooky!
