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‘American Horror Story’: A Very Gay Showcase

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American Horror Story has been a reliable source of outrageous horror for over a decade. Creator Ryan Murphy struck gold in 2011 with season 1, retroactively titled Murder House, and blew the lid off anthology TV with its entirely different follow-up season, Asylum. This put the FX network on the map during a golden age of television that occurred at a time before the influx of eight thousand streaming apps oversaturated our screens and bank accounts. And while Murphy has had a slate of projects that were either overtly queer (Glee) or queer-coded (Popular, Nip/Tuck), AHS isn’t technically a “gay” series. Despite this, Murphy and his team have utilized the show’s platform to give the community a voice, whether by hiring out gay actors as significant players or by including queer characters and storylines on a show that isn’t necessarily about such. For something that was a big part of the cultural zeitgeist during its earlier years, it was pretty noteworthy to showcase members of the LGBTQ+ community and tell their stories in such a bold way. With June being Pride Month, we at Horror Press thought it a suitable time to pay tribute to what a very gay showcase American Horror Story has been all these years, so let’s go ahead and take a peek behind the rainbow curtain.

From its inception, AHS made strides in the industry by featuring multiple out actors like Sarah Paulson, Zachary Quinto, and Dennis O’Hare in prominent roles. We’re all aware of how fearful Hollywood is of out and proud actors because, after all, how could a gay person possibly play straight, or why would straight viewers care to watch people they have no chance at bedding? Murphy’s casting gave the one-finger salute to this ignorant train of thought. Over time, the show’s flamboyance and queer actor count progressed, incorporating the likes of Billy Porter, Matt Bomer, BD Wong, and Cody Fern into the fold. Of course, most of these actors had careers in their own right before the show, but including so many of them in a single series – and often playing queer characters – was simply unheard of. It should be acknowledged that there was an admittedly slow start regarding the casting of POC actors, with the introduction of Angela Bassett and Gabourey Sidibe to the series in season 3 being the only major POC actors until season 6. Still, I suppose we can never quite have it all…

Yet while the show’s cast was revelatory for the time, its fictional queerness had more humble beginnings. Later seasons could sometimes be so in your face with their excess and eleganza you’d think you were at a Pride parade, but the OG, Murder House, was much more subtle. Jessica Lange’s tour-de-force performance as insidiously nosy neighbor Constance Langdon fed the gays who worship at the altar of powerful women acting their asses off. While not explicitly gay, a presence like Lange’s, along with Connie Britton’s gorgeous mane and the framing of Dylan McDermott as an object of sexual desire (daddy, indeed), certainly supported the gay agenda.

This first season also includes a ghostly gay couple at the genesis of Rubber Man, a BDSM fetish suit that immediately became one of the series’ most iconic and recognizable frights. Depicting a realistically rocky relationship that met a violent and tragic end – as most things on AHS do – Chad and Patrick’s struggles were no different from those of the Harmon family at the center of the season’s drama. Rather than focusing on their relationship as “the other” to be juxtaposed with the show’s straight counterparts, Murphy and his writers integrated this gay couple seamlessly into the action, and sometimes that’s just as welcome as highlighting the differences in queer stories.

Asylum veered in the other direction by using the discovery of protagonist Lana Winters’ lesbian relationship as a MacGuffin to set her journey and the plot itself into motion. Set in the good ol’ days of 1964, Lana is forcefully admitted to the asylum under the guise of curing her “mental illness” of homosexuality. Unfortunately, horrific things like this did and still do occur in our world, and such a strong and fully realized queer character as Lana must be celebrated. Paulson’s performance sees her going head-to-head with the legendary Sister Jude. Their rivalry is one for the books, providing a feminine psychological intensity not seen since Whatever Happened to Baby Jane? The series’ darkest season even imitates some of Baby Jane’s campiness, giving us a brief reprieve via the frantic and silly Name Game sequence.

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It’s not all dark and full of terrors on AHS, though, and seasons Coven, Hotel, and Apocalypse bring a delightfully mean-spirited sense of frivolity to the series. As previously mentioned, the gays love a feminal force of nature, and Coven provides us with an entire class of them. A gay fantasy of the highest praise, season 3 finds us at Miss Robichaux’s Academy for Exceptional Young Ladies or Hogwarts for bad bitches and the queers who love them. A Real Housewives of Salem-style battle for the literal supremacy ensues, and to borrow a meme-worthy phrase from scandalous Housewife Erika Jayne; it’s going to give the gays everything they want. The library is open, and these women aren’t holding back.

Coven is stacked, blessing us with a pantheon of devilish witches to root for. We have Misty Day (Lily Rabe), the lovably naive white witch with a penchant for Stevie Nicks; an extended cameo and performances (yes, plural) by superstar Stevie herself; venomous celebrity Madison Montgomery, embodied frightfully well by Emma Roberts in a way she emulates twice more in Scream Queens and Scream 4; Frances Conroy as every gay’s favorite quirky aunt, Myrtle Snow; and Kathy-friggen-Bates as a resurrected slave owner hilariously tormented for her sins by Gabourey Sidibe’s Queenie. Coven’s true indulgence, however, is Angela Bassett as the queen mother of voodoo Marie Laveau and her centuries-long feud with the witches. This finds her at odds with reigning Supreme, Fiona Goode (once again, Miss Jessica Lange). Eventually, the adversaries form a truce to team up and dismantle the witch-hunting patriarchy. Add to all of this a witch whose power is death upon any man she sleeps with, and it’s no wonder the season’s first episode is titled “Bitchcraft”.

Coven is later succeeded by season 8’s Apocalypse, an Avengers: Endgame level crossover event that finds the witches of Miss Robichaux’s fighting the supernaturally aged antichrist Michael Langdon, who was birthed during the climax of Murder House. Newcomer Cody Fern brings big pansexual energy to the role, and while much of the season is fan service, Murphy – once again – gives the gays everything they want.

These witches paved the way for what would become the series’ signature sense of wicked fun, but it’s season 5’s Hotel that brought the stuff of gay legend to our screens in the form of LADY GAGA as The Countess. Like most gays, I’ll never forget where I was when I learned she would be starring in the season, and while there was some apprehension concerning her acting chops (this was before her Oscar nomination), I think I can speak for the community when I say we were gagged. Thus, Lady Gaga ushered in what I consider to be the queerest season of television that isn’t inherently about gay culture. With high fashion and old school elegance, gore galore, a frequently nude Matt Bomer and Lady Gaga, exquisite cinematography, and a plot not unlike a soap opera set in Hell, Hotel plays out like a nightmare version of a star-studded perfume ad. It doesn’t all make sense, but really, who cares?

Jessica Lange’s spirit is also not forgotten, and as it’s the first season without her on the cast, Gaga & Co. do their damnedest to bring the drama in her honor. With one icon gone, two must become one, and The Countess is joined by former flame Ramona Royale – hello again, Angela! Their romance is beautifully presented as an elevator tableau, tracking its ups and downs through the decades as they come and go from the hotel’s lift. It’s a bittersweet sequence that portrays the demise of a couple with nuance and serves us haute couture to boot.

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The character of Liz Taylor, played by Dennis O’Hare, is also one to look out for when it comes to nuance. As the aging transgender bartender of the Hotel Cortez, Liz takes in others’ pain while silently suffering in the shadows. O’Hare brings tragedy and levity to the screen in equal measure, and Murphy has yet to surpass Liz Taylor’s depth when it comes to writing queer characters for AHS. One scene, in particular, finds Liz coming face to face with her adult son from a life she has long since left behind. Something of a precursor to what Murphy would eventually do with Pose, the heartbreaking truth behind stories like this is essential queer storytelling.

Much more can be said about the very gay showcase that is American Horror Story. There is the homoerotic slasher throwback season 1984 that also debuts Angelica Ross as the series’ first black trans actor, Double Feature going full inclusivity with the bizarre pregnancies of gay males via alien experimentation, and underpinnings of gay panic seen through characters like the extremely possessed and sexually charged Sister Mary Eunice in Asylum and scantily clad serial killer Dandy Mott in Freakshow. And I haven’t even mentioned Jessica Lange performing David Bowie and Lana Del Rey or the queer warlocks of Apocalypse! Wow, this show is really gay, huh? In all seriousness, AHS has had its highs and lows of quality and critical acclaim, but its unapologetic and unabashed queerness deserves to be commended. On behalf of myself, Horror Press, and the month of June, we thank you American Horror Story for bringing queerness, warts and all, to the main stage. BALENCIAGA!!!

Alex Warrick is a film lover and gaymer living the Los Angeles fantasy by way of an East Coast attitude. Interested in all things curious and silly, he was fearless until a fateful viewing of Poltergeist at a young age changed everything. That encounter nurtured a morbid fascination with all things horror that continues today. When not engrossed in a movie, show or game he can usually be found on a rollercoaster, at a drag show, or texting his friends about smurfs.

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Editorials

Choosing Shock Value Over Writers Is Very Telling

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There is a huge difference between a movie being remembered for being good and a movie being remembered because it’s controversial. As a writer, I can forgive an okay film with an amazing script. However, I find it frustrating when it feels like no one believed in the project, so just leaned into the controversy. Stunts were pulled, shock value was sought after, and I am now wondering when the creatives stopped believing in their project.

Animal Cruelty as Shock Value in Horror Cinema

Cannibal Holocaust, a pivotal step toward found footage horror films as we know them today, is remembered for all of the scenes of sexual assault and the murder of actual animals. This takes away from its historical significance because the first thing I remember about it is watching a turtle get murdered and ripped apart. I have a similar issue with Wake in Fright. It’s hard to remember Donald Pleasence, Gary Bond, or the queer implications of this thriller because the filmmaker had kangaroos executed for this film. The scene feels like it goes on forever, and I’m yet to understand why murdering animals needed to be part of the process. 

I finally watched Megan is Missing a couple of years ago, and the exploitative nature of the assault of a fourteen-year-old is what stays with me. Whatever Michael Goi’s intentions were, they were lost because the shock factor of that moment outweighs everything else.

When Shock Value Replaces Meaningful Horror

It feels gross and like yet another male filmmaker mishandling assault on camera. Meanwhile, the film was serving its purpose and had other truly disturbing imagery that would have gotten a reaction out of audiences. It also would have allowed for more discussion about the film as a whole, instead of that scene that becomes the conversation. It’s another instance of male filmmakers mishandling the weight of sexual assault on film.

Things Aren’t Getting Better

However, the movies mentioned above are from different eras. We’d like to think filmmakers by now understand that shock factor doesn’t equal a quality movie. We would be wrong to assume that, though, because Dashcam (2021) didn’t stop at basing a character on an awful person. They actually cast the Trump-loving, anti-vax, and very vocal bigot Annie Hardy to play the character. This led to horror fans familiar with her brand of ignorance being turned off before the movie was even released. It also undid a lot of the goodwill that director Rob Savage earned with his previous movie, Host. To make matters worse, Savage repeatedly defended the choice all over the internet. At one point, he tried to blame her behavior on mental health, and people pointed out that doesn’t excuse racism, antisemitism, and homophobia.

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Some of Annie’s Infamous Tweets

This is an especially head-scratching situation in this case. The team was riding the steam of a very popular found footage film. They were also primed to make a video game called Ghosts that had a successful crowdfunding campaign. People would have shown up for this before casting for shock value became the priority. We have had multiple films similar to this that sidestepped using known monsters. What was the reason? The idea came about because of her show, but any actress could’ve pulled that off. It was irresponsible to attempt to give this woman an even bigger platform . It was also the ultimate sign that no one was serious about this project.

Have We Tried Trying?

While making chaotic choices is one way to be memorable, is it worth it? In theory, someone(s) spent a lot of time and energy writing these stories. Wouldn’t actual storytellers prefer people to compliment their work instead? Celebrating their imagination, uniqueness, and skill instead of yelling about controversy and shock value. This isn’t a censorship thing. I’m used to being unimpressed with movies and asking,What was the reason?As a writer, I also know that there are ways to elicit responses from people without traumatizing them. We are literally tasked with putting characters and situations on the page that make people think and feel. Which is why going through the process of getting an idea greenlit and then leaning into something ghoulish like animal cruelty is baffling. Instead of casting a known Twitter bigot, you could just write a character based on assholes of that ilk. 

Whenever I see films coming out that seem more interested in courting controversy than trying to find their audiences, I pause. I cannot help but wonder who really decided this. Clearly, someone didn’t believe in the script and felt that upsetting people for the wrong reasons was the move. That outdated idea that any press is good press snuffed out whatever spark initially got people on board for the film. It is sad that someone(s) didn’t believe in the power of the written word. They doubted the effectiveness of storytelling and decided to go big in the wrong ways. Instead of stepping it up in the script department and figuring out if the proposed stunt is a band-aid for something missing on the page, they decided to go nuclear. They shocked us in the worst of ways, and now we are stuck on impact rather than intention.

How Did We Get Here?

I’m not trying to sound like a boomer, but the rise of social media has made this worse over the years. Studios seemingly want controversial content rather than actual art. The pursuit of going viral has replaced the idea of trying to actually do or say something. It’s all about adding AI to movies to spark outrage and make it trend. The worst people you know are getting cast in movies, so they can cry witch hunt when accountability enters the chat. Shocking the people for the wrong reasons seems to sadly be at main goal too often. 

How did we get here? I’m seriously asking. I mean, we know capitalism and people who don’t value art buying studios are a huge part of it. However, I feel like there is a missing piece of this puzzle. Maybe it’s just collective brain rot, and I want it to be more than that because I know the power of a good script. Hell, I know the power of a mid script in the hands of the right person. I want to believe in writers even if their vision is in the shadows of a circus. 

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Is The Shock Value Worth It?

What do I know, though? I’m just a girl, sitting in front of a computer, asking the industry to believe in writers again. Back scripts that actually say something instead of figuring out how get them canceled. Make movies that spark conversation for legitimate reasons instead of incredibly head-scratching decisions that pull focus. Some of us deserve smart movies that challenge us for the right reasons. That’s why we flock to the original ideas, live for international films, and look to indie filmmakers. We crave disrupters who manage to break the cycle of crap we constantly get spoon-fed.

That’s what inspires me to keep beating my head against the wall. It’s what gives me hope that I’ll get to make things one day. Maybe I’m naive, but I want to at least try because I love writing. I don’t want to just cast a real bigot and call it a day. Not when I can write characters based on bigots and hopefully prompt actual conversation. I want my people discussing my dialogue and metaphors, instead of animal cruelty that makes people sick. In a perfect world the system would allow more room for that. We deserve scripts that can stand on their own without shock value leading TikTok to talk.

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Editorials

Tim Burton, Representation, and the Problem With Nostalgia

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Tim Burton was not always my nemesis. In the not-too-distant past, I was a child who just wanted to watch creepy things. I rewatched Beetlejuice countless times and thought he was a lot more involved in Henry Selick’s The Nightmare Before Christmas than he actually was. I was also a huge Batman fan before Ben Affleck happened to the Caped Crusader. To this day, I still argue that Michael Keaton’s Bruce Wayne was one of the best. So when I tell you I logged many hours rewatching Burton’s better films in my youth, I am not lying.

However, as I got older, I started to realize that this director’s films are usually exclusively filled with white actors. Even his animated work somehow ignores POC actors, seemingly by design. This is sadly common in the industry, as intersectionality seems to be a concept most older filmmakers cannot wrap their heads around. So, I was one of the people who chalked it up to a glaring oversight and not much more. I also outgrew Burton’s aesthetic and attempts at humor when I started seeking out horror movies that might actually be scary.

I Was Over Tim Burton Before It Was Cool

So, how did we get to episodes of the podcast I co-host, roasting Tim Burton? I kind of forgot about the man behind all of those movies I thought were epic when I was a kid. In huge part because his muse was Johnny Depp, whom I also outgrew forever ago. I wasn’t thinking about Burton or his filmography, and I doubt he noticed a kid in the Midwest stopped renting his movies. I didn’t think about Burton again until 2016 rolled around.

In an interview with Bustle for Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children, the lack of diversity in Burton’s work came up. That’s when the filmmaker explained this wasn’t a simple blunder or oversight on his part. He also unsurprisingly said the wrong thing instead of pretending he’d like to do better in the future.

Tim Burton said,Things either call for things, or they don’t. I remember back when I was a child watching The Brady Bunch, and they started to get all politically correct. Like, OK, let’s have an Asian child and a black. I used to get more offended by that than just… I grew up watching blaxploitation movies, right? And I said, that’s great. I didn’t go like, OK, there should be more white people in these movies.Bustle

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Tim Burton Is Not the Only One Failing

We watch older white guys fumble in interviews when topics like gender parity, diversity, politics, etc., come up all the time. It’s to the point now where most of us are forced to wonder if their publicists have simply given up and just live in a state of constant damage control. However, Tim Burton’s response was surprisingly offensive in so many ways. The more I reread it, the more pissed off at this guy I forgot existed after we returned our copy of Mars Attacks! to the Hollywood Video closest to my childhood home. While I knew I wouldn’t be revisiting Edward Scissorhands and Beetlejuice, his explanation for the almost complete absence of POC in his work burst a bubble. 

We Hate To See It

Tim Burton’s own words made me realize so many obvious issues that I excused as a kid. Like Billy Dee Williams as Harvey Dent in Batman, it was the only time I remembered a Black actor with substantial screentime in a Burton film. Or that The Nightmare Before Christmas was really named the late Ken Page’s character, Oogie Boogie. As a Black kid, what a confusingly racist image with a helluva song. So, Burton saying the quiet part out loud is what led me to reexamine the actual reasons I probably stopped watching his work. His problematic answer is also why I don’t have the nostalgia that made most of my friends sit through Beetlejuice Beetlejuice

I love the cast for this sequel we didn’t need. I am also delighted to see Jenna Ortega continue working in my favorite genre. However, from what I heard from most of my friends who watched the movie, I’m not the only person who has outgrown Tim Burton’s messy aesthetic and outdated stabs at jokes. I am also not the only one paying attention to what’s being said about the Black characters on Wednesday. Again, I’m always happy to see Ortega booked and busy. However, I also refuse to pretend Burton has fixed his diversity problem. If anything, this moves us deeper into specific bias territory.

Tim Burton’s Bare Minimum Is Not Good Enough

He will now cast a couple of Brown people, but is still displaying colorism and anti-Blackness. Histhingsseeminglycall for thingsthat are not Black folks in key roles that aren’t bullies. He still feels that’s his aesthetic. If we are still dragging him into the last millennium, will he ever work on a project that truly understands and celebrates intersectionality? Or will he continue doing the bare minimum while waiting for a cookie? I don’t know, and to be honest, I don’t care anymore. I’m not the audience for Tim Burton. You can say mythingsno longercall for thingshe’s known for. In part because I’m over supporting filmmakers who don’t get it and don’t want to get it.

If a director wants to stay in a rut and keep regurgitating the mediocre things that worked for him before I was born, that’s his business. I’m more interested in what better filmmakers who can envision worlds filled with POC characters. Writer-directors that understand intersectionality benefits their stories are the people I’m trying to engage with. So, while Tim Burton might have had a few movies on repeat during my VHS era, I have as hard of a time watching his work as he has imagining people who look like me in his stuff. I will never unsee “let’s have an Asian child and a black” in his offensive word salad. However, I don’t think he wants me in the audience anyways because he might then have to imagine a world that calls for people who look like me.

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