Editorials
Glen and Glenda: Don Mancini’s Reverence for Queerness in ‘Seed of Chucky’ (2004)

Being terrified of Chucky’s stitched face as a kid resulted in the masochistic choice to rent Seed of Chucky from Blockbuster back in 2005. Watching it for the first time as a closeted 10 year old, I adored writer and director Don Mancini’s twisted black comedic creation, and much later, I felt seen amidst the undeniable queerness that saturates the film. Seed of Chucky follows Bride of Chucky (1998) perfectly: both pay homage to horror’s queer roots. As Bride of Chucky pays respect to James Whale’s fabulous gothic camp horror masterpiece Bride of Frankenstein (1934), Seed of Chucky draws upon B-movie director Ed Wood’s misunderstood gender/sexuality flick Glen or Glenda (1953), of which Mancini’s central protagonist is named. The following is a history of the queer roots embedded in Seed of Chucky, which helps to illuminate Don Mancini’s devotion to queer horror.
When killer couple Chucky and Tiffany meet their spawn for the first time after being separated at birth, the child says their name is “Shitface,” a name given to them by their vile ventriloquist owner. Once over the shock of discovering they have a child in the first place, they decide to give their child a proper name. Chucky prefers Glen, while Tiffany advocates for Glenda, demonstrating a clear divide in what gender they believe their child to be. The child’s pants are pulled down to confirm whether or not the child is a boy or girl, only to reveal that the child, in typical doll fashion, has no genitalia. Chucky chalks it up to them being a late bloomer, and the couple proceeds to call their child whatever name they see fit, whatever gender they see fit.
Glen/Glenda, throughout the film, stresses about their identity. In a climactic scene of familial disorder, they scream at their parents, “What about what I want?” To which, Chucky and Tiffany listen:
Glen/Glenda: “I think… I want to be a boy […] But, being a girl would be nice too.”
Chucky: “Well, which is it?”
Glen/Glenda: “I’m not sure. Sometimes I feel like a boy, sometimes I feel like a girl. Can I be both?”
Tiffany: “Well, some people.”
Though Chucky disapproves of the possibility of having anything other than a son, Tiffany is open to Glen/Glenda deciding for themself. This is extremely transgressive for 2005, and throughout the film, amidst the carnage created by their parents, Glen/Glenda goes on a journey of gender discovery, culminating in them deciding to be both. Through ritual voodoo, Tiffany transfers Glen/Glenda’s soul into two human twins, one male, and one female, allowing Glen/Glenda to ultimately be both sexes, and exhibit both traditional male and female gender expressions. This is exactly what Glen/Glenda wanted.
Mancini’s use of the name Glen/Glenda is a direct reference to Ed Wood’s practically autobiographical feature Glen or Glenda, a B-movie exploring sexuality and gender expression with confusing and messy results. Though Glen or Glendaappears to be a genuine effort by Wood to provide audiences with a sympathetic narrative of a cross-dressing man named Glen and his confused yet supportive partner in 1953, the film is maligned with false generalizations of queer people, muddying the waters of what it means to be a cross-dresser, gay, and/or transgender. The film not only draws on the experiences of director Ed Wood, who was a cross-dresser himself, but on the transition of Christine Jorgensen, a Bronx trans woman and army veteran who publicly proclaimed their surgical transition in 1952. Her story was sensational and made the front page of the New York Daily News. She used her platform to advocate for the rights of queer and transgender people. In a letter to her parents after her transition, she asserted “Nature made a mistake which I have had corrected. [N]ow I am your daughter.”
While Jorgensen was helping to transform the discussion and perception of trans folks through her public discussions of her life experiences, Wood attempted to add to the conversation through his art, with rough results. Despite Wood’s best (low budget) efforts, the film is a mess, correlating being transgender to cross-dressing, undermining queerness, and it is unclear just what Wood is trying to say. Ultimately, the film’s message is love and acceptance since Glen’s cross-dressing is eventually accepted by his fiancé. However, at the film’s conclusion, Glen is “cured” of his desires by a psychiatrist and no longer has the urge to wear women’s clothing. With the use of horror elements like an ominous score and a featured part played by horror legend Bela Lugosi of Dracula (1931), the tone of Glen or Glenda is often menacing. The film is regarded as one of the worst films of all time. Luckily for queer folks, Mancini took this messy film about trans/queer identity and molded the central themes of Glen or Glenda into a perfect doll, even going so far as to mimic the parental dis/approval that was evident in Glen or Glenda: an accepting mother and a rigid father.
Mancini bringing Glen/Glenda into the 21st century allowed the confusing trans narrative to better represent a trans and/or non-binary experience. In a brief interview with horror queer podcast Attack of the Queerwolf!, Mancini states that Glen/Glenda is non-binary. The character paved the way for further non-binary representation in horror, though hardly any horror screenwriter has made an attempt as transgressive as Mancini’s since. Mancini uses Glen/Glenda’s character to express to audiences that non-binary children are just as valid in their identity as cisgender children, and their bodies are not up for discussion by anyone other than the child. Seed of Chucky is a celebration of autonomy and authenticity. Despite the carnage and outrageous hilarity, one of the film’s most poignant themes is, indeed, love and acceptance.
Editorials
What’s in a Look? The Jason Voorhees Redesign Controversy
The Jason Voorhees redesign sparked heated debate, but is the backlash overblown? Dive into Friday the 13th’s formula and fan expectations.

If you’re a longtime reader of Horror Press, you may have noticed that I really really like the Friday the 13th franchise. Can’t get enough. And yet, I simply couldn’t muster a shred of enthusiasm for piling hate on the new Jason Voorhees redesign that Horror, Inc. recently shared with an unwitting public.
Why the Jason Voorhees Redesign Controversy Feels Overblown
Hockey mask? Check. Machete? Check. Clothing? Yeah, he’s wearing it. I really didn’t see the problem, but very many people online pointed out all the places where I should. The intensity and specificity of the critiques shot me right back to 2008, reminding me distinctly of watching Project Runway with my friend’s mom while I waited for him to get home from baseball practice. What, just me?
But the horror community’s sudden transformation into fashion mavens got me thinking about other things, too: the character of the franchise as a whole, how Jason Voorhees fits into it, and why I feel like this reaction has been blown out of proportion. (A disproportionate reaction to a pop culture thing? On my Internet? Well I never.)
What Does A Jason Look Like, Anyway?
What confused me the most about this reaction was something I couldn’t quite get a bead on. What does Jason Voorhees look like? His look, both masked and unmasked (especially unmasked), changes wildly from film to film, even when he’s played by the same person (in three consecutive movies, Kane Hodder played a hulking zombie Jason, a shiny slime monster Jason, and a Jason who was mainly seen in mirrors and looked like his face was stung by a thousand bees). And then there’s the matter of him being both a zombie child and a bagheaded killer before receiving his iconic hockey mask.
However, if you synthesize the various forms of the character into the archetypical Jason Voorhees, the one that most people might visualize in their head when told to imagine him, the result doesn’t not look like this new redesign. Frankly, I even think “redesign” is too strong a word for what this is. This image shows a dude in outdoorsy clothes wearing a hockey mask. It looks enough like “Jason Voorhees” to me that my eyes just slide right off of it.
What Do We Expect From Friday the 13th, And What Do We Need?
Ultimately, many people clearly disagree with my assessment of this redesign, which led me to ponder the franchise as a whole. If there’s something to complain about with this new look, that implies that there is a “right” way and a “wrong” way to be a Friday the 13th movie.
This I can agree with. While the franchise is wide-ranging and expansive to the point that it has included Jason going to space, fighting a dream demon, and taking a cruise ship from a New Jersey lake to the New York harbor, the movies do still follow a reasonably consistent formula.
Step 1: Generate a group of people in a place either on the shores of Crystal Lake or in Crystal Lake township (they can travel elsewhere, but this is where they must start).
Step 2: Plunk Jason down near them, give him a variety of edged weapons, and watch what happens. One girl survives the onslaught, and sometimes she brings along a friend or two as adjunct survivors. Bada bing, bada boom, you have yourself a Friday the 13th movie.
If you fuck with that formula, you’ve got a problem. But beyond that, there’s really not a hell of a lot that the movies have in common. Sometimes you have a telekinetic final girl, other times you have a child psychologist. Sometimes the dead meat characters are camp counselors, but other times they’re partiers or townies or students attending space college.
Hell, even the people killing them aren’t always the same. Look at Pamela Voorhees in the original movie or Roy in A New Beginning.
So why this protectiveness around the minutiae of Jason’s look?
It’s Us, Hi, We’re The Problem, It’s Us
I don’t mean to discount everyone’s negative opinions about this Jason redesign. There are a multitude of aesthetic and personal reasons to dislike what’s going on here, and you don’t have to turn that yuck into a yum just because I said so. But I think we’ve had online fandoms around long enough to see how poisonous they can be to the creative process.
For instance, was The Rise of Skywalker a better movie because it went down the laundry list of fan complaints about The Last Jedi and basically had characters stare into the camera and announce the ways they were being fixed?
Look, I’m not immune to having preconceived disdain for certain projects. If I’m waiting for a new installment in a franchise and all that I’m hearing coming out of producers’ mouths is “prequel” and “television show,” those are fighting words.
However, the constant online pushback to projects that are in early development might be one reason it has taken us so long to actually get more Friday the 13th (I’m talking in addition to the long delays amid the lawsuit, of course). It’s been more than a decade and a half without a new Jason vehicle, and that time keeps on stretching longer and longer.
What Fans Really Want From a New Jason Voorhees Movie
Instead of just letting the creative tap flow and having a filmmaker put out the thing they want to make, then having somebody else take the wheel and do that same thing for the next installment, it seems like producers are terrified of making the wrong move and angering the fans, which has prevented them from actually pulling the trigger on much of anything.
Look, we survived A New Beginning. And Jason Takes Manhattan. Even Jason Goes to Hell. A controversial misstep can’t kill the immortal beast that is Friday the 13th. I say let’s just let them make one. Having something tangible to complain about is better than having nothing at all.
Editorials
Monstrous Mothers: Unveiling the Horror in ‘Mommie Dearest’ and ‘Umma’
The horror umbrella is massive and encompasses many subgenres including thrillers, sci-fi, and even true crime. I like to quip that movies like Mommie Dearest and Priscilla belong to the latter category. I even point out they have final girls surviving their monsters, but like most jokes, there is a lot of hard truth behind that. To be clear, Mommie Dearest is highly contested even by Christina Crawford, who wrote the book about the abuse suffered at the hands of her alcoholic guardian. However, the fact remains that there is an abusive mother terrorizing children at the heart of the horror. This is a tale as old as time in the genre, and we see these themes of motherhood, mental illness, and generational trauma often. So, why do we typically forget this movie when discussing titles like Psycho (1960), Run, Hereditary, etc.?

I challenged myself to fill a gap in my cinema history this month and watched Mommie Dearest. I was very familiar with the movie due to how many drag queens reference it and because of Joan Crawford’s villainous reputation. However, I had never seen it in its entirety before, which is weird because I write about my own maternal baggage often. Without ever seeing the film, I knew this movie, categorized as a drama, belonged under my favorite genre label. Some sources even try to meet in the middle and classify it as a psychological drama, which is a phrase that does a lot of heavy lifting to remove itself from what it actually is. After all, what else should we call a film about being abused by the person who should love us most other than horror?
Does Mommie Dearest Belong in the Horror Genre?
The horror umbrella is massive and encompasses many subgenres including thrillers, sci-fi, and even true crime. I like to quip that movies like Mommie Dearest and Priscilla belong to the latter category. I even point out they have final girls surviving their monsters, but like most jokes, there is a lot of hard truth behind that. To be clear, Mommie Dearest is highly contested even by Christina Crawford, who wrote the book about the abuse suffered at the hands of her alcoholic guardian. However, the fact remains that there is an abusive mother terrorizing children at the heart of the horror. This is a tale as old as time in the genre, and we see these themes of motherhood, mental illness, and generational trauma often. So, why do we typically forget this movie when discussing titles like Psycho (1960), Run, Hereditary, etc.?
Mommie Dearest recounts a version of Christina Crawford’s upbringing by Hollywood royalty Joan Crawford. It depicts her as an unstable, jealous, manipulative woman who only holds space for her beliefs. As with most abusive parents, she takes out her frustrations and feelings of inadequacy on those around her. Specifically, those who cannot fight back due to the power dynamics at play. This version of Joan is a vicious bully, which feels familiar for many people who grew up with an abusive parent. How many of us never knew what would set our parental monster off, so just learned to walk on eggshells? How many of us grew up believing we were the problem for way longer than we should have? How many of us normalized the abuse for so long that it carried over into adulthood, letting us believe being mistreated is just part of living?
Watch the trailer for Mommie Dearest
The Lasting Impact of Abusive Parents in Horror Movies
While my mother wasn’t the active bully in our home, part of my struggle with her is her complicitness in the hell she helped create for all of us. Which is why, while I don’t think Mommie Dearest is a great film, I believe it’s a decent horror flick. It made me want to revisit a better movie, Umma, that also dealt with motherhood, mental illness, and trauma. Iris K. Shim’s 2022 PG-13 horror sees Sandra Oh playing a single mother who has not healed. After growing up with her own mother, who was especially cruel to her, she has built her world around that trauma and forced her daughter to live within its walls with her. As someone who was severely homeschooled by a woman who still really needs to find a therapist, Umma hits me in my feelings every time.
Watch the trailer for Umma below
Maternal Monsters: A Common Thread in Psycho, Hereditary, and More
Before the film starts, Oh’s character, Amanda, has turned her back on her family and cultural heritage. She has built a life that she’s not really living as she hides in her home, afraid of electricity due to the abuse she suffered at the hands of her mom. So, when her uncle shows up with her mother’s ashes, she is triggered and haunted. All of the issues she hasn’t dealt with rush to the surface, manifesting in ways that begin turning her into her deceased mom. Amanda does eventually force herself to confront her past to avoid becoming her mother and hurting her daughter. So, while Umma is different from Mommie Dearest, it’s not hard to see they share some of the same DNA. Scary moms make the genre go round which is why movies like M.O.M. Mothers of Monsters, Serial Mom, Mother, May I?, and so many others will always pull an audience by naming the monster in the title.
I doubt I am the first person on Norma Bates’ internet to clock that some of horror’s most notorious villains are parents, specifically moms. I’m also sure I cannot be the first person to argue Mommie Dearest is a horror movie on many levels. After all, a large part of the rabid fanbase seems to be comprised of genre kids who grew up wondering why the film felt familiar. However, I hope I am the first to encourage you to watch these two movies if your momma trauma will allow you to hold space for a couple more monstrous mothers this month. Both have much to say about how we cope with the fallout of being harmed by the people who should keep us safe.