Queer Horror (Pride pt. III)
Funeral Parade of Roses
Psycho Beach Party
Rapture
Happy Pride month, everyone! This is my third year of doing these weekly double features, and my third attempt to shine a light upon iconic, influential pieces of queer cinema. As a fiercely loyal ally who’s love for queer content could be considered obsessive, I wish to celebrate these works of art with the utmost respect and appreciation without centering myself. Many of my favorite films, featured on this blog and beyond it, are undeniably queer, or are at the very least queer-coded—where the LGBTQ+ representation can be convoluted, but nevertheless valid. Recent films explored on this blog like Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown, Party Girl, and even Reefer Madness: the Movie Musical are doused in queer iconography and peppered with gay and lesbian subtext, even if they didn’t feature any definitive queer narrative like in Monster or Plan B. Queer content is inherently subversive from the heteronormative, patriarchal structure that inevitably bleeds from our society into our media. That’s why, for better or for worse, some of the most unapologetically queer content comes from horror—a genre that by its very nature seeks to subvert the norm and present the unexpected. As Harry M. Benshoff notes in his essay The Monster and the Homosexual in one of my favorite books on film, The Dread of Difference: “For the better part of the twentieth century, homosexuals, like vampires, have rarely cast a reflection in the social looking glass of popular culture. When they are seen, they are often filtered through the iconography of the horror film: ominous sound cues, shocked reaction shots, or even thunder or lightning. Both movie monsters and homosexuals have existed chiefly in shadowy closets, and when they do emerge from these proscribed places into the sunlit world, they cause panic and fear.” In terms of cultural influence, the LGBTQ+ community has contributed so much. The sad reality, if I haven’t already expressed it numerous times in numerous other blog posts, is that the real world is far more scary than anything imagined in a horror film. With the barbaric passing of Florida’s Don’t Say Gay bill and Texas’ legislative attack on trans healthcare, our government and our local leaders have proven themselves to be far more fearsome and dangerous than any monster movie or its influences. We fear what we do not know, and we fear people who live freely and passionately as their unrepressed selves. So, naturally, the “other” stays othered, the marginalized stay marginalized, and anyone fighting for basic human rights can be swiftly struck down due to the cowering, fascist patriarchy that fears equality. The beauty of queer text and subtext in film is that real life stories get to be told, real representation can be found, even if it comes dressed in a scary mask. While tonight’s films were far from what I would consider scary, they certainly represent the all-too relevant fear of the “other” that plagues those who have limited ideas about gender, sexuality, and self-expression. There’s so much of queer cinema, and particularly queer horror that I love and am drawn to, so I couldn’t pick just two films this week. Toshio Matsumo’s 1969 film Funeral Parade of Roses was a hypnotic, erotic, semi-psychotic look into the underground gay culture of 1960s Tokyo that was part drama, part documentary, and part experimental arthouse cinema. Its trippy visuals and profound use of contrasts went beyond what I knew you could accomplish within the black and white format. It’s a story of sex, drugs, rock n’ roll, that seemed wild and dreamlike while the story was being told, then became intimate and real when members of the cast were interviewed about their love of drag, their love of men, and their appreciation and commitment to glamour. I hesitate to synopsize Funeral Parade of Roses because it’s much more of an experience beyond movie-watching. Its drifting in and out of its plot was disorienting at times, but it felt like I was given access to some chic, clandestine world that I couldn’t look away from. What perplexes me, long after finishing the film, is whether or not it can be classified as a horror film. While the story at the core of this movie ultimately ends darkly, the bold and vibrant representations of trans women and queens within a culture I knew little to nothing about was just spectacular to become exposed to. The makeup and the clothes and the conversations had while passing joints and watching movies—it all sparkled and satisfied, even when things took a shocking turn. It has plenty of horror elements to it, but Funeral Parade of Roses is far from your typical horror film. It was just as joyful and free as it was concealed and fearful. Robert Lee King’s 2001 film Psycho Beach Party had its own brand of horrors amid its story set in a summer in the 1960s full of fun, friendship, and foul play. This movie, while somehow previously not on my radar, was a gorgeously gay, goofy slasher that I never knew that I needed. Starring early 2000s darlings like Lauren Ambrose, Amy Adams, Nicholas Brendon, Beth Broderick, Thomas Gibson, and Charles Busch—who stars in drag as the queeniest detective, and wrote the off-broadway play that this was based on. It combines the psychodramas of the 1950s with the beach party movies of the 50s and 60s, and what we’re left with is a clever, hilarious, absurd slasher that looks as if its set in Barbie’s dream house and neighboring beach land. The dialogue was incredible, the style was perfection, and its gaggle of egregiously machismo surfers with undeniable homosexual desires was the cherry on top of what was already a fun ride. The aesthetic, the attitude, the sense of humor of Psycho Beach Party, I wanted it all injected into my veins. I was so enraptured with both of these films, but it was tonight’s final film, Iván Zululeta’s 1979 horror film Rapture (Arrebato), that mystified me the most. Rapture follows José, an obsessive and perpetually-tortured horror filmmaker and heroin addict who forms a mutual fascination with Pedro, another obsessive, perpetually-tortured filmmaker. Like Funeral Parade of Roses, we’re given a bit of a peak behind the moviemaking process within Rapture. It’s rather experimental as well, but its still anchored by an increasingly puzzling and suspenseful story that keeps you entranced. José’s struggle seems to come mostly from his addiction, while Pedro’s struggle seems far more internal and inherent. Before he is even introduced, it is alluded to that Pedro is “different”. Without ever saying the word gay, Pedro is clearly intended to be perceived that way, and while this structure of ominous gay characters can be very damaging, in Rapture, we’re given the opportunity to get to know the outsider and sympathize with him, and even root for him. Whatever sense of “normalcy” that our perceived heterosexual male protagonist sets up in the beginning of this film is washed away when him and Pedro become close, and are revealed to be more similar than once thought. It’s suspenseful, it’s bizarre, it’s somewhat funny, it’s unpredictable, and it was really a pleasure to watch Will More as Pedro frolicking and fanning himself in the Spanish countryside. Within every moment of calamity and obsession and queer subtext, I can see why this is allegedly Pedro Almodóvar’s favorite horror film. As I always tend to note, the world these days is the real horror show. That’s why I always recommend watching horror movies—they can be a palate cleanser from our unpleasant reality, and as tonight’s films proved, they can be a gateway to artistic expression for and by the othered of society. Happy Pride month, girls, gays, and theys! Let the gay agenda spread and let the patriarchy gag 😘
