Film Reviews: Disturbingly Fun Nostalgia [Toys, 1992]

Toys (1992)

[Reader disclaimer: there will be spoilers discussed. This piece also contains material of a mature nature].

We all have films we think fondly of, especially those that inspire nostalgia within us. Most of you probably have a soft spot for the Disney renaissance, with The Lion King (1994) at the forefront. Some of you might remember such gems as Matilda (1996) or The Parent Trap (1998) remake.

When I was a kid, I watched a lot of different kinds of films, but they weren't usually tailored for children. There is one kid's film I remember, though: Toys (1992). I happen to own it, so I popped it on to relive my childhood, delve deep into the nostalgia of yet another classic performance by the late Robin Williams. What I ended up discovering was that this film, a film apparently aimed at children, is one of the craziest things I've ever seen. 

The premise is as follows: the owner of a toy factory (Donald O'Connor) dies and leaves his company to his military-based brother, Leland (Michael Gambon) because his son, Leslie (Robin Williams) and daughter, Alsatia (Joan Cusack) are not yet mature enough to run the business by themselves. Leland begins to incorporate war toys into the company's schemes in an attempt to relive his glory days, thus endangering the company and everyone in it, and so Leslie tries to thwart his attempts in order to save the future of toys.

Now, the one thing I vividly remembered about this film, confirmed by rewatching it, is that the set design and cinematography of Toys is absolutely awe-inspiring. The filmmakers took inspiration from René Magritte's paintings and created surrealist (and sometimes disturbing) imagery to truly capture a feeling of childlike imagination, paralleled by Leslie and Alsatia's characters. The vibrant palettes, varying sizes of props and the accompaniment of music from the likes of Tori Amos and Enya made for a bizarre viewing experience, something akin to that of Wes Anderson or Melanie Martinez: it felt innocent yet also vaguely threatening. 

What I didn't remember was the completely bonkers story line of Leland's essentially fascist regime of recruiting child soldiers to pilot toy planes and relive his glory days as an established militant general, depicting him as an unhinged Vietnam war veteran who slowly starts to lose his grip on reality. Leland's ideology of the military's future is for it to be affordable but also incorporate the concept of "warfare without a conscience", showing that his time fighting has robbed him of a moral compass. Again, this is a kid's film but go off, I guess.

Leland builds toys (some of which resemble something out of Mike Trim's War of the World sketchbook) and programmes behind restricted doors and begins to alienate himself from everybody else. Towards the end of the film, he even attempts to murder his own son.

Then there's Alsatia's character. As a kid, I remember her being an odd addition to the gang but finding her quirks endearing. As an adult, you can see that she is clearly coded to be autistic, which doesn't sit well when you consider that, contextually, Alsatia is actually a robot. 

Joan Cusack's performance conveys stereotypical traits of autism, such as abnormal speech behaviours and an intense focus for certain things: her brother never considers this to be odd due to knowing her true nature as something that is non-human, however, her uncle constantly berates her for her behaviour, referring to her as a "loony". In retrospect, these scenes are uncomfortable to watch and make you question why the writers of the film wrote her to be this way, as if to suggest there is a correlation between autistic behaviour and engineered programming (in other words, implying that autistic people are the "Other"). 

On the subject of writing, I had to research the certification for this film because there were far more adult jokes in this than I'd remembered. According to IMDb, it's a PG-13 (simply PG by the BBFC) due to "language and sensuality"; the words "big cock" and the phrase "war is the domain of a small penis" were included in this film and I don't know what I'd classify that as other than...gross.

There is a scene where Leland unnecessarily rambles on about how he can't achieve an American accent. There is a scene wherein Leslie and Gwen (Robin Wright) start 'doing the do' and some soldiers are listening in on them moaning. There is a scene where Leland almost lets Leslie be murdered by an aquatic war machine "to see if it works". 

As the credits rolled on Toys, I was left with a singular thought: who is this movie for? Surely it's wildly inappropriate for children but it's also extraordinarily weird for adults as well. Also the question remains, what is this film? It starts off as some outlandish and eccentric adventure which turns into a social drama and then the third act arrives with a Game of Thrones-esque battle scene of toys (which results in the massacre of all our fluffy, childhood friends). In the end, I can't help but classify Toys as some kind of horror-inspired anti-war film, though I think it's beyond labels at this point.

Would I recommend watching this? For curiosity's sake, sure. I'm glad I revisited Toys but I doubt I'll be sitting down to watch it again: if I'm looking for Williams in the 90s, I'll go for some Bicentennial Man (1999).

Overall rating: 5/10

- K

Why Catwoman [2004] is a Problematic Feminist Film

[Reader disclaimer: spoilers will be discussed].

Catwoman (2004)

In the early noughties, we had some pretty interesting superhero movies. There was the introduction of the X-Men (2000), Spider-Man (2002) and Hellboy (2004) but then there were also the films that we now consider to be merely garbage-fires, such as The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen (2003), Fantastic Four (2005) and who could forget the incomparable Daredevil (2003)?

Superhero films were upcoming but they certainly weren't perfect. Visual effects were getting better but the CGI was still...well, questionable. So it stands to reason that some of those early instalments of now very popular franchises were not exactly the best money could buy, but some are definitely held in higher regard as being the worst of the worst, which brings me to the film I'll be discussing today: Catwoman (2004). 

Me-owch!

If you're not familiar with Catwoman, allow me to explain why critics and fans alike found themselves hurling this one into the trash. 

Catwoman follows Patience Phillips (Halle Berry), a timid, young artist who works for the makeup industry designing ads. She's quiet, she's "unremarkable" and Patience is just kind of there, almost a background character as opposed to a protagonist. 

After overhearing about the industry's plan to sell 'Beau-line', a product that destroys the infrastructure of your face if you stop using it, Patience is ultimately chased down and swept out via sewer pipe as she's hilariously projected through the air and killed. And then a cute, magic cat resurrects her and ta-da, we've got ourselves a genetically enhanced, sewage-covered Catwoman. 

Now, I didn't find too much issue with the premise, as ludicrous as it presented itself to be. In fact, the incorporation of cat culture and Egyptian iconography (as cliché as it is) felt original and distanced itself from previous interpretations of Catwoman on-screen. 

The real issue is that Catwoman has abysmal dialogue, unnecessarily androcentric themes tightly packed into the story-line and, let's be honest, for a film supposedly celebrating femininity, there were a lot of men who worked on the film, including writers and directors. It's also a far throw from Catwoman's origin story in the DC comics, with the character being Selina Kyle, a thief from Gotham City with a damaged past: this, obviously, didn't go down well with fans.

Chunks of dialogue ranged from George Hedare (Lambert Wilson) verbally abusing women by criticising their "wardrobe" and lack of "manicure" to Catwoman toying with her love interest, Tom Lone (Benjamin Bratt), purposefully and explicitly demonstrating the shortcomings of men in the movie. It didn't feel genuine as much as it felt accusatory, and I think you can tell that men wrote this script thinking "this is what women think of us, this is how they view us as villains!" without quite understanding how, contextually, most women experience misogyny in the workplace, sexual misconduct and problems with male authority. 

So, it isn't feminist?

Now you're probably wondering how on earth I'd consider this film iconic and feminist, if blatant misogyny and poor writing skills taint the film. Well, not all of it is necessarily bad.

One of Catwoman's greatest strengths is its ability to strongly and efficiently demonstrate Patience's empowerment once she becomes the titular anti-hero. She begins to stand up to male authority figures by calling out her boss for being an "untalented, unethical, egomaniac", something a lot of women would like to do in their own lives but are unable to. 

Patience takes complete control of her romance with Tom, evident in their initial 'basketball scene', wherein she's flirtatious but she allows Tom to be voyeuristic and she allows herself to win the game. Even in the climax of the movie, she's the one who breaks things off with him, as opposed to him dumping her: this is due to the fact that she understands her duality of personality and takes responsibility for it.

She asserts her needs and desires, sometimes in a selfish way, but most of the time as a repercussion for other people's actions: verbally berating Mr. Hedare due to his negligent and frankly sexist behaviour, destroying her neighbour's door/speakers due to his disregard of how loud his parties were, physically injuring the guards who initially flushed the sewer pipe that killed her. 

Catwoman, at least in this film, conveys something that little girls everywhere enjoyed seeing: an independent woman in charge of her destiny and unrestricted by male influence. Captain Marvel (2019) may have done it better but Catwoman did it first. 

Beauty is pain

Unfortunately, one of Catwoman's biggest downfalls is it's villain, Laurel Hedare (Sharon Stone). She's definitely an interesting character: cast aside by the beauty industry for being too old ("and then I turned 40 and they threw me away"), Laurel embodies what a lot women fear and what the beauty industry even now strives to fix, which is ageing.

Her motives are understandable when you consider that she was renowned for her beauty and, despite her age, maintained that impressive, physical trait: yet she is brought to her proverbial knees by a man (George) simply because he deemed her unfit to represent the company. He further rubs this embarrassment in her face by cheating on Laurel with her younger replacement. 

With her husband's infidelity and her lowered ranking in the industry, of course it makes sense that Laurel wants revenge. However, unlike Patience, Laurel's actions are not justified: she murders people that get in her way and attempts to sabotage all women by letting the hazardous Beau-line be sold. 

In the climax of the film, we're given a showdown between the two women, and it feels hollow and contrived. Pitting woman against woman is an incredibly tired trope, one that only suggests that a male writer can see no other way to crawl to the finish line. Had either Laurel or Patience been more fleshed out as characters, it perhaps would've made for a probable and rewarding epic battle, but instead it was just a woman scorned taking out her anger on the other for no other reason than Patience standing in her way. 

I suppose it's refreshing in that, in the end, Catwoman tries to save Laurel from falling to her death (though she does end up falling anyway). It demonstrates Catwoman's ability to differentiate bad intentions from being an inherently bad person, a personal theme which she struggles with throughout the narrative. A more suitable ending, perhaps, would be Laurel being imprisoned and facing responsibility for her actions, paralleling that of the anti-hero. Sadly, that's not the ending we got.

Moving forward

The Dark Knight Rises (2012)

So, perhaps Catwoman (2004) was not the best showcase of the character we've all come to know and love. The film was originally intended to be a solo film for Michelle Pfeiffer, following her role as Catwoman in Batman Returns (1992), however she declined to partake in production (hence the inclusion of Halle Berry and various rewrites to the script). 

Our most recent Catwoman is Anne Hathaway's portrayal in The Dark Knight Rises (2012), however it has been long thought that there will be no spin-off for Christopher Nolan's iconic Batman trilogy, therefore it is unlikely that Hathaway will be donning those pointy, leather ears again.

Interestingly, though, Heroic Hollywood this year rumoured that Matt Reeves (who will be directing the newest Batman film, simply titled The Batman) is on the lookout for a Catwoman co-star for Robert Pattinson, specifically a WOC. This may prove to be nothing more than talk but it would be deeply fascinating to see another iteration of Catwoman that could perhaps take the reins and give us the solo movie we all deserve to see.

As long as it's directed by a woman, of course. 

- K

The Gore Scale

[Reader disclaimer: this piece may contain spoilers and material of a sensitive nature].

The Human Centipede: First Sequence (2009)

You decide to sit down and watch a horror film: what's your go-to? Some people are psychological fans, others want to see demons possess people, but some of you twisted bitches are like me and want to see body parts go flying. There are a few subgenres for that: splatter, banned, torture porn, body, Lovecraftian, even snuff horror. They're all good in their respective ways but how do you quantify how much gore you want to see on screen?

I looked at three categories of horror films and put them in ranking order. The classics, the modern marvels and what's known in most circles as "extreme horror", often depicted as the most depraved, disturbing and downright bloody iterations of the genre. A score of 1 to 4 is considered tame, 5 to 7 is moderate, and 8 to 10 would be extreme.

I'd like to point out here, though, that these are just my personal takes and not something to take as gospel. I am somewhat biased in that I prefer gorier films but I can objectively advise you on what is gorier than others: with that being said, let's jump in.

(I'd also like to note that none of the films included scored a 1, the lowest ranking, but there are films out there with minimal gore, such as It Follows (2014)). 

The Classics

The Thing (1982)

The Shining (1980): 2/10

This famous Kubrick classic might be one you haven't watched (I don't know why you wouldn't have) but, if you were considering giving it a go, you'll be surprised to know that The Shining isn't particularly gory at all. It has disturbing imagery galore with body horror interspersed, but the body count stands at a measly one person, and the crippling insanity that Jack Nicholson brings to the table will freak you out much more than the elevator scene. 

The Exorcist (1973): 3/10

Again, if you haven't seen this one, then where have you been? The Exorcist is regarded, perhaps, as the most famous horror film to boot but you'd be wrong if you thought this film was anything other than deeply psychological and rooted in the supernatural, as opposed to sitting comfortably in the gore section. There are some scenes (the crucifix scene in the bedroom is the one to watch out for) that incorporate gore but not hugely: this one will just have you paranoid that a demon is going to get you, not that your limbs are going to be cut off.

I Spit on Your Grave (1978): 5/10

One of the most famous rape-revenge films, I Spit on Your Grave is visceral, unnerving and badass. However, for a film that structures its entire premise on bodily violation and the physical revenge of such, there isn't a great deal of gore. Perhaps its most iconic scene is the "bathtub sequence" but, even so, we cut away before we see anything of real significance: this was more or less rectified in the remake but it's just a shame that the remake was nowhere near as good as the original.

The Evil Dead (1981): 6/10

Sam Raimi's magnum opus, other than clearly the fantastical Spider-Man 3 (2007), is a great summer flick to watch with your friends: it's a horror movie where blood runs like beer on tap and provides one-liners you'll be quoting for years to come. It's gory, yes, but leaps and bounds behind some of the other entries on this list: it also suffers from the 80s curse of fake blood cheapening the effect by becoming less and less realistic as the film ages. Still, a lot of bloody fun (pun intended).

A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984), Day of the Dead (1985), The Fly (1986) and The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974): 7/10

These four films certainly stray into the moderately gory territory. A Nightmare on Elm Street is arguably the bloodiest of the seven installments, with blood geysers and ragdoll bodies solidifying itself in horror history forever. 

Day of the Dead, my personal favourite of the original Romero trilogy, has a wicked autopsy scene and features some pretty gruesome deaths throughout. 

The Fly is just straight-up disgusting, and body horror doesn't necessarily equal gore, but the acidic spit scene is something akin to the Nazis losing their faces in that equally disturbing part of Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981). Although tragic, this film is most definitely and intensely graphic.

The Texas Chainsaw Massacre is, without a doubt, a horror masterpiece. A story of people terrorised by a family of murderous cannibals? One of which is based on real life serial killer Ed Gein, who wore his victims' skin as a makeshift mask? Gross. I love it. TTCM will make you avoid hitchhikers and meat hooks for the rest of your life, I'll tell you that.

Hellraiser (1987) and The Thing (1982): 8/10

Two horrors close to my heart, we close out the "classics" section with Hellraiser and The Thing, two films equally talented in evoking big reactions from its intended audience. 

Hellraiser successfully meshes physical gore with masochistic pleasure, providing us with not only one iconic villain (Pinhead) but two (Frank). Frank's reanimation sequence is still one of the most awe-inspiring things I've ever seen in a horror movie, despite its aged appearance: it'll have your skin crawling (if you have any).

The Thing is a film, much like Hellraiser, that you probably have never seen but don't have to because it's everywhere in pop culture. The deaths are gnarly, the creature is freakishly abnormal and terrifying but best of all, the suspense will keep you on your toes through the runtime.

The Modern Marvels

The Cabin in the Woods (2011)

Us (2019): 4/10

I adore this film. I adore both of Jordan Peele's films. However, horror in Peele's filmography doesn't derive from what's explicitly shown to us but by connotations woven throughout his narratives: for that reason, Us doesn't score particularly high on the gore scale. Although it is by far bloodier than Get Out (2017), the violence is not the epicentre of the story, moreover it is a gradual unravelling of shocking and fear-inducing events. A splash of blood here and there but nothing too gory.

Audition (1999) and Hereditary (2018): 6/10

One is a staple of j-horror, one is a classic before its time. Audition is a fantastically twisted psychological film that features some messed-up scenes involving some feet and vomit (don't ask) and Hereditary may as well be known as "that one film with all the neat decapitation", but both (despite the removal of body parts) are actually fairly tame when it comes to gore: it's moderate, and unsettling, but again, not really the main focus. 

The Cabin in the Woods (2012): 7/10

The best way to describe this film would be a loving homage to the 80s, placing a contemporary spin on what we love about creature features and good ol' slashers. There's blood aplenty but the true sentiment lies in what The Cabin in the Woods pays tribute to, as opposed to who or what they kill on-screen: that being said, there's a lot of gory fun to be had. It's a moderate amount, a respectable amount if you will, which will appease the average horror fan and intrigue the general movie-goer.

The Extreme Ones

Martyrs (2008)

Teeth (2007) and The Human Centipede: First Sequence (2009): 3/10

Teeth is actually the lowest ranked of this section for a very good reason: although it's a wonderful portrayal of an empowered female character and a biting, satirical commentary on gender division and sexual control, it's surprisingly tame in terms of gore. We see a few *ahem* "members" being removed but, other than that, the gratuitous violence derives from male entitlement and the horrors of male patriarchy. Great flick, just not very gory at all.

Another film you might be surprised to see ranked so low is the first Human Centipede: it's undeniably vulgar and unsettling, but when we look at it through our red-tinted lens, the gore just isn't there. Bodily fluids, no matter how disgusting they are, don't really constitute gore and even if it did, we don't see much of it on-screen. The Human Centipede is a film founded entirely in its shock factor, rather than its visceral reimagining of horror. It's gross, yes. But gory? Not really.

Antichrist (2009): 5/10

Lars Von Trier: you either hate him or you love him. Maybe you just respect that he's a clever filmmaker yet an all-around terrible human being. Either way, his film Antichrist is up there with the other extreme legends for being one of the most eye-boggling movies to date, an impressive feat considering it's not even technically a "horror" film (I'd classify it more as a psychological thriller/horrendous fever dream). 

To say it's gory would be a misstep: it's not, as such, but the body horror that is there is pretty gruesome (you'll be crossing your legs and looking away from the screen on more than one occasion). 

Cannibal Holocaust (1980), Dead Snow (2009), Hostel (2005) and Ichi the Killer (2001): 8/10

These four films set the bar in the extreme categories: Cannibal Holocaust is legendary, Hostel helped solidify torture porn in the modern genre, Dead Snow gave us Nazi zombies and oodles of fun and Ichi the Killer, though not as well-known, is by far the craziest j-horror flick out there. 

Hostel and Ichi share similarities in their depravity: it's calculated, sadomasochistic and hard to watch. The gore wavers from a simple slash of the Achilles heel to a man's face being sliced off like a carrot through a vegetable grater. It's fun, it's mad and it's a lot. Dead Snow is similar to these two films, in that respect, but it's not calculated gore. There are buckets of blood, entrails pulled out and swung about, flesh-eating zombies tearing off body parts...if you want to just see people being annihilated, this film is for you. 

Cannibal Holocaust, though despondent and violent, is in a different league to the rest of them. It is indeed gory, you've probably all heard about the legal problems director Ruggero Deodato ran into post-release, but the more disturbing part is not the fictional deaths of on-screen natives but the documented murder of real animals that is left in the film (vegans and vegetarians should stay clear of this one, for sure). 

A Serbian Film (2010) and Braindead (1992): 9/10

Now, you might be wondering why on earth these two are paired together, seeing as one is a splatter-comedy and the other is just...beyond reason. But in all honesty, I'd argue that both sit firmly at a 9 when it comes to gore. 

A Serbian Film is, evidently, not for the faint of heart. Such themes shown explicitly on-screen are necrophilia, "newborn porn" and rape: this, plus a hearty douse of gore, is a lot for movie goers. I'd only ever recommend seeing this film if you're able to stomach it and the same goes for Braindead (or otherwise known as Dead or Alive). 

Braindead makes Dead Snow look pathetic in comparison to the sheer amount of guts, blood and pus that it thrown your way. The lawnmower scene at one time held the record for most blood used in a horror film, though I'm pretty sure the Evil Dead remake took the baton for that one back in 2013. Either way, both films are incredibly gross and feature gore only for the truly daring fans.

Martyrs (2008): 10/10

I know already that some people are going to disagree with me here. Surely, you must be thinking, A Serbian Film is worse than Martyrs. And in terms of depravity, I'd agree with you, but that's not what we're looking for today. 

Martyrs is an endurance test, flinging the viewer headfirst out of their comfort zone and into the world of New French Extremity, a shockingly raw and upsetting type of horror. It pulls no punches, spares no feelings and never relents on both the physical violence nor the psychological torment of its characters. 

Plasma doesn't gush like it does in The Shining, guts aren't pulled out like bunting up a magician's sleeve as it does in Dead Snow, but Martyrs is arguably unparalleled in its ability to chip more and more of its own humanity away to reveal its corrupted and bloodied nature. A Serbian Film is only there to shock you: Martyrs will make you question reality (and possibly vomit at the same time).

- K

Sex, Demons & Visibility: The DemonHuntr Series

"Make it gayer" is a common in-joke within my close circles when it comes to television and film. For every token gay, there's a hundred straight characters, which gets a bit boring after a while: there's only so many cis-het people I can see on-screen before I decide to switch over to something better, like Shadowhunters (2016-2019). 

So it was as a surprise when I came across the Twitter for DemonHuntr, a queer-centric series which is currently trying to find its footing and take off. When I read the premise of the show, simply a "diverse group of queer friends who hunt down demons" and "sometimes sleep with them", I had a hunch that this was a show for me.

The Heteronormative Paradigm

So, what exactly is this series and why haven't you heard of it? In essence, DemonHuntr is focused on a friendship between two men, one gay and one straight, who play the roles of mediums: they use the "DemonHuntr app" (hence the name) and go on to solve mysteries and fight the supernatural. 

What makes this series different, it seems, is not only its incorporation of technology as opposed to magic (which we can see in its contemporaries e.g. Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Shadowhunters and Supernatural) but it's also incredibly diverse in terms of characters.

One of DemonHuntr's main driving points is that it "brings queerness and diversity to the forefront", including a broad range of races, genders and sexualities. This is almost unprecedented, as the industry currently stands, because most horror/supernatural shows are founded in heterosexuality and white privilege (don't @ me, you know that's true). 

What Tim O'Leary, creator of the show, intends to do is give everybody "a seat at the table", a mindset that I wish more showrunners and producers would have: if more people were open-minded to being diverse, we'd have more shows that make us as a community feel validated. 

Some initial skepticism

Eragon (2006)

However, despite my excitement for this project, I had a few concerns. Firstly, there will undoubtedly be some bigoted cis-het people who are going to throw a tantrum when they find out that they don't make up the majority of people shown on-screen: I know that's completely stupid but I can't ignore the fact that, whilst I don't think they need anymore representation in the horror/fantasy genre as it is, it would be exclusion if the series flat-out rejected the idea of including them at all.

Secondly, the range of diversity is wonderful, but DemonHuntr could easily fall into one of those productions that accidentally pigeonholes characters into bland, unimaginative stereotypes, which would further hinder LGBTQ+ representation instead of celebrating it. 

So, I had a correspondence with the show's aforementioned writer/creator, Tim, to iron out these details.

"Straight, white men aren't excluded from DemonHuntr," he explains, "because no one is excluded from DemonHuntr. Our show takes place in a world where absolutely everyone is accepted for who they are."

"We're not saying LGBTQIA people can come to the party and straight people can't - we're saying everyone can come to the party."

Following on from this, Tim responds to the idea of pigeonholing characters into stereotypes by stating that "none of [the] characters leaned too heavily on them" and that the reasoning behind having the main focus on Asian-American, Latinx and African-American people was because he hadn't seen them shown properly on TV before (at least not all together), "which is why [he] wanted to write them".

Artistic license

Forbidden (2018)

Something that deeply fascinated me about this response was "everyone is accepted for who they are". Within LGBTQ+ culture, we're often represented in the media as having undergone some kind of trauma or backlash to be in the stable (or in some cases unstable) position that we find ourselves in at the end of the narrative, but for DemonHuntr, it seems this alternate universe is far more accepting than our current one. 

When asked about whether the queer characters we'd see on-screen would deal with the hardships of being openly queer, Tim responded, "the short answer is no - none of the characters struggle with anything having to do with their sexual identity or how that fits into the greater world."

It reminded me a lot of Todrick Hall's visual album, Forbidden (2018), and how homosexuality took place in an alternate version of our world that saw it as the foundation of our society: being queer was normalised (to a degree). 

Tim explains that there will be scenes in which we see characters defining themselves but that "no judgment" is attached to that because there's shouldn't be anything inherently bad about being open about yourself. He goes on to say, "[...] there is absolutely still a place for stories about people coming out, about dealing with the hardship related to sexuality, and the struggle over identity. The need for those stories hasn't gone away, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't tear up every time I see a film like that."

But Tim and his team are doing something that I think every queer person can resonate with: he's trying to produce something that is aspirational, that omits discrimination and the ugliness of homophobia, racism and queer erasure. He defines his characterisation of the people in the show as writing protagonists "who are queer without their queerness being their defining trait", a sentiment that mirrors my own (as you may have seen from the queer-coding article I did a few weeks ago). 

This will be a show for everyone that promises not only representation but, more importantly, acceptance. 

Moving forward

As of right now, DemonHuntr is crowdfunding to get the project up and running into production stages: they've amassed a whopping $10,000 already in less than a week, a clear thumbs up for getting it well on its way to realising its potential. 

You can help them out by donating to their page and getting them to their goal of 36k, which goes towards cast wages, production, special effects and all sorts of things to get everything moving (a breakdown of costs are listed on the site). 

If you'd like to keep updated on how the show is progressing, you can follow their socials as listed below. I'd like to thank Tim O'Leary and also Robert Rice (producer and actor on the show) for being so kind and letting me have a chat with them about their passion project. 

Social medias:

• Twitter
• Instagram
• Facebook

- K

Queer Bodies in Horror: Why Gendered Reveals Are Harmful

[Reader disclaimer: spoilers will be discussed. This piece also contains material of a sensitive nature].

Insidious: Chapter 2 (2013)

Something that has really been playing on my mind lately is a specific horror trope that has been used in films for years and is regarded as one of the most well renowned plot twists in cinema: the gender reveal. You'll undoubtedly know this from films like Psycho (1960) but you may not have ever stopped to wonder why this trope is harmful to the LGBTQ+ community. Not until now, anyway.

The subversion of gender as a trope, sometimes referred to as the "gender bender", is where a film features a character that can be transgender, non-binary or cisgender and the plot twist revolves around their "true" identity being revealed to the audience.

In Silence of the Lambs (1991), Buffalo Bill is described as a "transsexual" and is motivated to murder his female victims under the pretext that he was being rejected for gender reassignment surgery.

In Cassadaga (2011), Christian Burton is berated by his mother for wearing dresses and playing with dolls, and consequently castrates himself, leading him to lead a traumatised adult life wherein he murders women and forms them into real-life marionettes. 

In Insidious: Chapter 2, the ghastly apparition of the Bride in Black (also known as Marilyn) is seen to be raised as a girl and psychologically abused by his mother, then proceeds to castrate himself and later commit suicide. He spends his adult years murdering women in the iconic funeral dress and then haunts the living after his death.

This list could go on (and I'd rather not) but my main point is that we see this trope in a lot of places and don't usually think much of it. Why should we? It's just a plot twist, right?

The Problem with Sleepaway Camp (1983)

Sleepaway Camp (1983)

There is, of course, one particular horror film that is famous for this trope: Sleepaway Camp (1983). What has now solidified itself in modern culture as an iconic film, Sleepaway Camp dons the gender subversion plot twist like a big, shiny medal, revealing at the end that Angela (played by Felissa Rose) is in fact Peter, raised by his "eccentric" (albeit clearly mentally ill) aunt to be a girl. 

The camera pans away, showing Angela standing there stark-naked beside the body of her camp sweetheart, Paul (played by Christopher Collet), wielding a knife, an unnerving expression on her face. She lets out a feral, scratchy sound and, as we move from close-up to wide shot, we see that Angela has a penis.

Arguments have, of course, been made for why this ending is so memorable and unforgivingly creepy. Perhaps it is the juxtaposition of scenery, standing by a tranquil lake late at night, lulling the audience into a false sense of security before bludgeoning them over the head with the truth. Perhaps it's the frozen expression on her face, somewhere between childlike euphoria and murderous intent. Perhaps, as some people on Reddit pointed out, it's the uncanny valley effect that is given when shots of Felissa Rose are interchanged with the body double wearing an unnervingly realistic mask of the actress. Or perhaps it's a combination of all three.

I've read articles that claim that the penis reveal is not what makes this ending shocking. Some critics claim it's the reveal that Angela (who is Peter) has been assuming the identity of her dead sister the entire time, or that the trauma that they experienced (seeing their loved ones killed but also the addition of seeing their supposedly depraved father in bed with another man) is what lead Angela on her murderous rampage within the camp.

But I disagree with this entirely because you can tell that the film wants you to go "oh my god, she's a boy!" which, incidentally, is an actual quote from the end of Sleepaway Camp. No, there are a couple reasons as to why the ending of this film is so disturbing, but not for the reasons you often see discussed online.

Cassadaga (2011)

Firstly, Angela's character is 14 years old. The fact that they objectify her at the end by showing off her prepubescent body and genitals is not only alarmingly perverse but begs the question as to why more people haven't spoken out about it. 

As a queer person over the age of 20, I felt repulsed to be acting as the observer, and yet I have not seen other critics point this out. This might be due to the fact that the majority of them are cisgender men who see no apparent reason to see this as a cause for concern, but the age thing is definitely creepy, no matter which perspective you take.

Secondly, I fail to understand what response the film wanted me to have. Was I meant to be afraid? Disgusted? Creeped out? Angela's character undergoes trauma at the hands of Mary Ann (played by Alyson Mord) when she accidentally murders Angela's family and has her identity forcibly removed by her aunt Martha (played by Desiree Gould) before she even gets to the damn camp. At this point, I can't help but sympathise with the character, which I doubt was the film's intention for me as a viewer. 

You might now argue that I'm justifying Angela's murder spree. I'm not entirely, but when you consider that Angela is already experiencing some kind of psychosis at the hands of the women in her life, plus the fact that most of the victims had it coming to them (a long slew of paedophiles, antagonising bullies, misogynists and sexual aggressors), you can at least understand why she did it.

The motivations for the murders are rooted in revenge, not the fact that she's biologically male or has a supposed bloodlust for the campers due to internal, psychological trauma. And that makes far more sense as an explanation, rather than a shot at the end with her penis out. 

Gender Identity ≠ Murderer

Silence of the Lambs (1991)

Therein lies the main issue: using gender identity as a reveal doesn't really work when you look at it on a basic level. Showing that a character like Angela had different genitals the whole time or insinuating that gender identity is in any way inherently linked to murderous intent/mental instability is incredibly harmful to people within the LGBTQ+ community, whether they be transgender or other variations of identity (e.g. genderfluid, intersex, agender). 

These tropes perpetuate the stereotype that trans individuals are in some way depraved, made wrong or fuelled by their own dysphoria (as we see with Buffalo Bill and Christian Burton) to kill. Yes, if we look at context, Sleepaway Camp was not considerate of this, nor would I expect it to be. But we've seen this trope as recently as this year with Glass (2019), in which James McAvoy's character has seven, differing female counterparts as a result of having DID and he dresses up in feminine clothing to accommodate for the personalities' gender. Why was that needed to get the point across?

To put it bluntly, there is nothing horrifying or scandalous about the gender subversion trope. It's a cheap tactic at the expense of our community and doesn't really do anything for shock factor when you consider that gender identity is not intrinsically linked to psychopathy or other known traits of serial killers. 

Hey, you can have trans villains, just don't make them villains because they're trans. 

- K

The Failings of Contemporary Queer Cinema

[Reader disclaimer: this piece may contain content of a mature/sensitive nature].

The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert (1994)

I'll level with you, dear reader: this was not the post I had intended to put out today. In fact, I was in the process of writing another edition of the Recommendations series, focusing on LGBTQ+ films to suggest to newbies and matured queers alike for Pride month.

However, I became disparaged doing my research when it became painfully clear to me that there just aren't enough unproblematic LGBTQ+ films to recommend. And this angered me so much that we've come to the topic of today: how queer cinema has failed its community and how it needs to improve.

The Problem

Soldier's Girl (2003)

There's a few issues to address but let's try and keep this concise: LGBTQ+ representation in cinema is built on the foundation of archaic stereotypes and, to be honest, that hasn't really changed. I personally didn't believe this to be true until I looked up queer films from the last three years and found that most of them showcase character studies that heavily rely on how heterosexual people see us (probably because they're the ones that keep writing/directing the damn things).

"But wait!", I hear you cry, "Atomic Blonde was really good! So was Bohemian Rhapsody! Are you telling me Moonlight isn't a good LGBT film?!"

Listen. Moonlight (2016) is an exceptional film. So is Atomic Blonde (2017). No, Bohemian Rhapsody (2018) wasn't good, get off my ass about it. But Moonlight depicts the brutalisation of a queer character (hate crime trope), Atomic Blonde is centered on a bisexual assassin (depraved bisexual trope) and Bohemian Rhapsody, as well as all of the other shortcomings, demonises gay people in a way that probably made poor Freddie turn in his grave (depraved gay trope). 

There's this fixation in cinema on using these stereotypes as pivotal points but they're insanely harmful and unnecessary. 

I wanted to recommend Brokeback Mountain (2005) until I remembered that they literally play into the 'bury your gay' trope at the end. 

I wanted to recommend The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert (1994), a film that I have suggested before, until I rewatched it recently and discovered how poorly they handled the character of a trans woman (played by a cis man, to make matters worse). 

I wanted to recommend plenty of horror films that now come across as downright problematic, due to their use of "gendered reveals" as a plot twist, which just comes off as horribly transphobic and homophobic. 

The Solution?

Sleepaway Camp (1983)

Abandon the tropes. Make new ones. 

Hire queer writers and directors to make queer films. Make more LGBTQ+ content. 

Normalise homosexual leads in films instead of basing the entire narrative on it. 

Stop using gender and sexuality as a motivation: hell, stop pointing it out unless it serves some kind of purpose that isn't manhandled in an insensitive way. 

You want recommendations? A Fantastic Woman (2017), a film focused on a trans woman who is played by a trans woman. Velvet Buzzsaw (2019), wherein a bisexual, male character is at the forefront of the narrative but isn't motivated by his own sexuality. You'll laugh, but Zootopia (2016), a fluffy kid's movie that stands as an allegory for how community and conversation can tear down homophobia, xenophobia and racism. I challenge you to fight me on that last one, honestly: if a kid's film can do it, then Hollywood's hotshots should be able to as well.

Is it so wrong of me to want to go into a film and see myself represented properly, and not chalked down to being "the psycho lesbian", "the depraved queer" or "the genderless murderer"? Or, god forbid, I'm able to go and see a film like Blue is the Warmest Colour (2013), a film that shows a young woman exploring her sexuality by engaging in a sexual/romantic relationship with another woman in an unforgivingly raw but honest way that doesn't demonise either person? 

I wish that I had more films to offer you this week. In all honesty, it's saddening to see how far we've come in this community and yet how little we've created to represent that on-screen in a true-to-life way. I know we have Love, Simon (2018) and Call Me by Your Name (2017) but there shouldn't be tokenised films every summer to fill the queer quota: we deserve to be within the mainstream pool, not segregated to the side as the average hetero's fun, campy one-off. 

- K

Queer-Coded Antagonists: Why We Stan The Baddies

It's the late 90s and I'm sitting on my living room floor, once again engrossed in an episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer (1997-2003): a programme that I'm absolutely too young to watch but love regardless.

Now, my favourite characters were always women, whether it be Drusilla, Willow or Faith, and it wasn't until I was older that I realised why I loved them so much. With the exception of Willow starting out (and eventually ending) as a heroic character, all of these women are the 'baddies' and, most importantly, are hella queer.

When I was in college, I watched The Celluloid Closet (1995), a documentary that explores queer-coding and the negative portrayals of homosexuality in cinema. It was during this film that I realised why I loved those Buffy characters so much: I was a queer person, and I didn't just subconsciously fancy these hot, sadistic girls, I related to them.

The 'Sissy' Villain

 

Basil, The Great Mouse Detective (1986)

So, what is a queer-coded villain? Also known as the 'sissy' trope, this is a stylisation of an antagonist, known for their blatant flamboyance, boldness and implied femininity.

Pick any of your favourite Disney films and look at the villain: what traits do they have? Hades from Hercules (1997), the towering epitome of sass, seen with a cocktail in hand and a penchant for reading (insulting people, for those of you not up to date with your gay lingo). Ratigan from Basil, The Great Mouse Detective (1986), adorned in feminine jewelry, a complete fucking drama queen and utterly loquacious. Ursula from The Little Mermaid (1989) is literally modelled on Divine, an infamous drag queen from John Waters' filmography, known for being explicitly sexual, filthy and glamorous. 

These characters exude either extroverted campness or sexual ambiguity (a good example of this might be HIM from The Powerpuff Girls, a seemingly transvestite-esque demon), they love performing soliloquies for dramatic effect, they're often feminine in appearance or cadence and they're not the heroes, despite how likeable they might come across.

Why do we like them?

TRON: Legacy (2010)

If they're meant to be these evil oppositions to our heroes, then why do we favour them so much more? Well, queer-coded villains are liberating, not just for young, gay kids but for everyone: queer antagonists are empowered because, despite the fact that they're fighting against what the hero (and us as an audience) consider to be morally right, they go about their journey with such an undeniable strength and confidence. They have a goal and they're going to reach it in style.

I think, at least for me, one of the biggest factors is character design. The queer-coded villain is often feminised, incidentally meaning that their costumes are far more detailed, make use of bold colours and play off the idea of sensuality (within reason): this appeals to baby gays and lesbians with a desire to be seen and can live their lives through these characters, which reflect the kind of openly queerness that they perhaps are unable to explore themselves. As The Celluloid Closet suggests, "visibility at any costs: I'd rather have negative than nothing". 

Is this a bad archetype?

The Lion King (1994)

So, are these fabulous yet demonised characters a problem? I think there may be arguments for and against.

On one hand, yes, the sissy villain trope is incredibly problematic. They may be empowering characters but they do reinforce (at least by association) the idea of homosexuality and the concept of immorality as being synonymous. 

For children growing up in both a more liberal yet increasingly problematic world, influence is everything, and no child should grow up seeing themselves demonised on screen for something innately unchangeable: for me, I grew up watching Willow on BtVS and I saw myself, a red-headed woman who discovers that she's a lesbian, and spends time exploring her sexuality in a way that isn't eroticised but completely normalised and validated by other characters. 

Dark Willow was a cool character but it was motivated by another problematic trope, "bury your gays", in which Willow's female love interest is murdered and serves as Willow's change into Dark Willow, a descent into evil and insanity. I felt somewhat let down by the writing, even as a young child: I didn't understand why her character specifically had to be evil.

Skyfall (2012)

And yet, if queer heroes were as equally visible as their evil counterparts, then perhaps it wouldn't be such an issue. It's when sexuality is confined to the opposing role and seen as a perversion in comparison to the clean-cut, hetero protagonist that most people take issue with, or that sexuality is the only thing that defines said character, making them one-dimensional and motivated only by who they want to bone.

I like queer-coded villains. I like all villains in general, that's just my preference: that's why I like horror films, I root for the bad guy and, in retrospect, plenty of iconic horror villains are queer-coded. If you look at Dracula or Hannibal Lecter, they both exude a dramatic flair, a subtle sensuality and poignancy to how they present themselves: even Freddy Krueger, in some respects, is queer-coded in how flamboyantly violent and camp he is.

What's great about contemporary queer-coding, though, is that although it's problematic (in that it still happens), the reception of such is very different. The LGBTQ+ community is renowned for its reclamation of previously derogatory terms and labels, giving new life to stereotypes and hurtful language in a way that empowers the individual and doesn't degrade them: when a queer-coded villain is presented on screen nowadays, it falls under scrutiny but is inevitably adopted into queer culture. Even the Babadook, an antagonist that is not queer-coded in any sense of the word, is now an iconic horror villain to the gays because of an amusing meme wherein The Babadook (2014) is categorised under LGBT films on Netflix. 

Sashay or Shantay? 

Mandy (2018)

The answer as to whether or not queer villains should still be created, I believe, is yes: as long as they are compelling, layered characters. Weaponised homosexuality only makes sense if homosexuality as a whole is considered normalised/established within that film's fictional world, flamboyant bad guys only make sense if the hero is equally flamboyant or at least indifferent to the bad guy's style.

In essence, queer-coding doesn't have to be a negative thing. It can be a reclamation, a celebration, if you will, of what makes the LGBTQ+ community so strong and fabulous...just maybe leave writing gay characters down to the allies/gays, though, and not ham-headed, straight men who just see homosexual villains as the torch bearers for their own, personal prejudice.

- K

Film Reviews: What's Expected Of Us [The Perfection, 2019]

The Perfection (2019)

[Reader disclaimer: there will be spoilers discussed. This piece also contains material of a sensitive nature].

For a few weeks now, the dark, film-orientated corners of the Twittersphere have been buzzing about an upcoming film to be released on Netflix called The Perfection (2019), a film which I had no interest in besides the fact that Allison Williams was starring in it, an actress who I've been keen to watch ever since witnessing her incredible performance in Get Out (2017).

So, I went into this film totally blind, only knowing of the praise it had received online. I can with 100% clarity tell you now that this film is, apart from Us (2019), the best horror I have seen this year hands down. 

We are introduced to our 'protagonist', Charlotte (played by Williams): a veteran cellist who had to take years out of her career at the cello academy known as Bachoff to care for her sick mother. The film opens with the death of said mother and Charlotte reaching out to her tutor, Anton (played by Steven Weber) to rejoin the world of classical music in any way she could, which leads her to become a supporting judge for a cello competition in Shanghai. 

Here, dear readers, is where I started to fall in love with this film. Charlotte meets Lizzie (played by Logan Browning), Anton's current protege: she exudes a kind of sensual confidence and intimidating albeit erotic vibe, completely contrasting Charlotte's quieter, kinder demeanour. 

The dichotomy of the two characters is the centerpiece of this film. The dynamic between Williams and Browning on screen is spellbinding, something akin to the two heroines in films such as Martyrs (2008) or Black Swan (2010): there's also something to be said about having a strong, queer, WOC character at the forefront of this film, especially considering that it's a horror. I instantly fell in love with my new favourite power couple and that's when things took an unusual but exciting turn.

Admittedly, the first five minutes or so of The Perfection are...messy. It's a little too reliant on exposition and the editing is quirky but sometimes distracting. However, as the narrative progresses with Lizzie and Charlotte teaming up to travel, we see Lizzie's decent into the psychotic: having taken ibuprofen for her hangover, Lizzie begins to throw up violently, experience diarrhea and finally her flesh is seen to be infested with bugs.

At this point, I'm nodding at the television. Ahh, this is a body horror and a psychological thriller, I get it now. No, I didn't get it. Because as soon as the bugs burst through Lizzie's hand, Charlotte hands her a cleaver and the poor bitch chops her hand clean off. Then, the film does something I didn't expect: it rewinds. 

A motif used in other films such as Funny Games (1997), rewinds in films often demonstrate a need to show something prior or to change the narrative: in this case, it was the former, and it shows how Charlotte not only orchestrated Lizzie's madness by drugging her with her dead mother's pills that can cause hallucinations, but through suggestion alone, managed to convince Lizzie to cut off her own hand due to bugs that weren't actually there.

This pivotal scene in the second act (titled "Detour") sets the tone of this film perfectly. It's weird, it's gnarly where it needs to be, and it's clever. And what sent me through a loop is that, whilst in the second act I had deduced that this film was a body horror/thriller, the third act (titled "Home") then conveyed shots and musical scores generic to slasher films. 

Now you're probably thinking, 'well damn, so Charlotte is the antagonist, then'. Wrong again. It's slowly revealed that Anton the music teacher is actually a rapist and a man who is willing to sexually abuse children in order for them to achieve greatness, to achieve "the Perfection". Lizzie, his protege, had been brainwashed to believe that her trauma was invalid, that her suffering made her the brilliant cellist she was: it's not until she cuts off her hand, a deluded but ingenious ploy by Charlotte to bring her back into reality, that the young woman accepts that what Anton did was wrong and not justifiable at all.

This is where the true subgenre of the film surfaces: this isn't just a body horror, a psychological thriller, a slasher...this is a rape-revenge film. And it's a fucking good one. 

What I think is so important about this is how it handles that subject matter. Rape in horror films is a difficult one to analyse and judge, because none of us condone it, but we're still willing to say it's necessary in a horror film to showcase a character getting "stronger": in this case, Lizzie and Charlotte's abused past isn't what defines them, in fact, they're only accepting of that trauma once they're out of the Bachoff headspace of achieving perfection, finally able to see Anton for what he is. 

One of the best scenes in this film is in the fourth act (titled "Duet") in which Anton not only tries to justify his actions by saying that he made them better people but pleads that he is sick and only needs to get help for the situation to be rectified. In reality, this happens far too often to many women, wherein their abuser or rapist either denies what they've done or twist it to have some kind of meaning: in reality, there is no meaning or just cause for rape, and those responsible should be held accountable, no matter what. 

In the end, The Perfection has become a solid favourite from me. I ended up watching it twice in one night because my housemate came home and I begged him to sit and watch it with me. I cannot say enough good things about this film, about how it shows the pressure of an industry hellbent on disciplining its students in inhumane ways, about how rape doesn't empower a woman to be better but only demonstrates how evil men and their backwards logic can be, and about how women in horror films can be queer, people of colour, mentally ill but still survive until the end (and deserve to). 

Overall rating: 9/10

- K