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