Editorials
Horror, Men, Queer Love, and Cars: ‘The Hitcher’ & ‘Christine’
When thinking about the historical and traditional symbols of heteronormative male culture, two main things come to mind; women and cars. Cars are such an essential part of this identity that an entire franchise is dedicated to the power of cars. So utilizing cars, and the culture around them, to tell stories about queer identity and sexuality is fruitful territory. Christine (1983) and The Hitcher (1986) take on these ideas but utilize them differently. Christine is a movie about a killer car that entices a nerdy boy desperate to be a man, while The Hitcher is about a man who accidentally picks up a killer that he becomes inexplicably attached to. Ultimately the two movies give our main characters two options; repress their identity or accept their transformation. In one tale, we see how this struggle drives two best friends apart, and the other brings two strangers together. Yet both highlight how our focus on traditional societal values and binary identity can cause immense harm, destruction, and death.
Queer Moments in Car Culture
While car culture is traditionally seen as a part of heterosexual male culture, these two movies have many queer moments specifically in and around the car. Both movies start with sexually charged scenes between the characters as they enter the car. In Christine, Dennis picks Arnie up to go to school. Immediately the conversation turns sexual as they talk about blowjobs which prompts Dennis to talk about how they need to “get Arnie laid”. Eventually, Dennis comments that Arnie “can count your life savings between your legs”. Insinuating that Dennis knows that Arnie has a big dick. In The Hitcher, Jim picks up John, making the excuse that he needs someone to keep him awake during his long drive. The first thing he says to John is, “My mother told me never to do this”. The time spent on the ride is filled with awkward first glances and touching. Eventually, someone stops them on the road, gets the vibe that they are a couple, and says, “Get going sweethearts”. These two first encounters show us how a car is a place where these men can be alone with each other. And the atmosphere often feels like an awkward first sexual encounter or a nervous first date. They offer a secluded location where the outside world does not influence these characters.
Symbolism of Cars in Christine and The Hitcher
Cars are used in other ways as well. By all accounts, Christine is meant to be looked at like a woman. The car is frequently sexualized by the camera. When she’s destroyed by Arnie’s bullies, it’s filmed like a rape scene. And there is the iconic “show me” scene in which she repairs herself in front of Arnie. It’s shot like a seduction scene. In The Hitcher, cars are not given a personality, but they are a tool. John rear-ends Jim, which has clear sexual allusions. They’re used as weapons and home to deviant behavior like the multiple murders that John commits. It is the mode in which the two can stalk one another. John uses cars as a weapon to destroy the heteronormative world, killing families, cops, and young girls. And it feels like a big coincidence that both movies have a scene with a flaming car, which in and of itself is clearly a queer implication.
When Jim and John are not in cars, they are frequently framed coming in and out of doorways, gates, and car doors. Jim is also frequently in gas stations, diners, and bathrooms. Several times we see Jim sexualized in the bathroom spaces. We see him constantly changing into “clean” clothes, and even showering. He tries to be clean, but John continuously brings him back into the dirt, filth, and everything deviant. Jim even dreams about John, his conscious and subconscious, wholly focused on this one man. As the movie goes on, they begin framing Jim the same way they frame John, a subtle nod to the transformation he is going through. By the end of the movie, when he is given the opportunity to move on and leave behind the events he has faced, he actively chooses to turn around to find John and become the deviant killer John wanted him to be. They constantly compare their actions up until the end, when they are truly aligned. Where Arnie has an unspoken supernatural connection with Christine, Jim has a similar connection with John. These forces can sense each other.
Barriers to Connection in Christine
In Christine, Arnie and Dennis are always positioned with something or someone in between them; girls, parents, tables, and even a case of beer. It alludes to how the two are constantly separated by status, societal pressure, and Christine. Arnie’s transformation aligns with a girl in a teenage comedy where the nerd takes off her glasses and becomes hot. There are also moments in The Hitcher when John and Jim are separated in a similar way, but as they consistently show us, all you have to do is reach across the table or divide to get to each other. This is evident especially in the scene at the diner when Jim pulls a gun at John, and John moves his finger closer and closer to the barrel. In The Hitcher, they constantly find ways to touch and be physical with each other. Whether by fondling each other with weapons, or John holding Jim’s face tenderly. They even swap saliva, licking or spitting on each other at different times. These strangers have an immediate physical connection, one that Arnie and Dennis would probably envy. Yet they cannot find it in themselves to act on or entertain these ideas. Ultimately Arnie and Dennis are doomed because they cannot take that next step, they don’t try to reach for each other.
There are also women in the movies that stand between the men. Both women are androgynous or masculine in style and appearance. Even their names are masculine (Leigh and Nash). Leigh has strong, traditionally handsome features like her dramatic jawline. She usually wears pants and tops with little to no hint of cleavage. This is a stark difference from Roseanne, who has a crush on Dennis but cannot get his attention. She is nerdy and has a similar stoic presence as Dennis. In the final scene, she is styled like Arnie and has a similar stoic personality to Dennis. She is a combination of the two, which makes her a perfect cipher for them. If they cannot be with each other, they can be with a woman that reminds them of each other. She is also part of the status symbol Arnie needs to be seen as a “man”. He has the car, the makeover, and the hot new girl, so he does not feel emasculated for the first time in his life. In the movie’s final scenes, Leigh and Dennis are immediately very physical, in a way he never could be with Arnie. So when Arnie is gone, she can fill the void.
Nash as a Symbol of Heteronormativity in The Hitcher
Nash has a short bob haircut, is very casual, and dresses in jeans and t-shirts (also styled similarly to the men). In The Hitcher, John sees Nash as a potential lifeline for Jim. She is the only person that believes he is not a killer. She represents a return to a heteronormative life for Jim. In John’s eyes, she needs to be destroyed. John acts like a jealous lover when confronting Jim about her. Nash never gets the opportunity to understand what is going on. She asks Jim, “Why didn’t he kill us?” and “Why did you pick him up?”. But Jim is never able to answer. He wants to believe that he is another victim or that he picked John up out of kindness, but the truth is perhaps more complicated. They have an unexplainable connection to the outside.
It is fair to question if John is a real live person or a representation of the “deviant queer” lifestyle that Jim is seduced by. John has no record, and the police cannot find any information on him. Jim is framed for John’s crimes because he is always at the same place the crimes happen. He even has evidence on him. So it all begs the question, are these just two strangers who are inexplicably drawn to each other, or does the idea of deviance entice Jim, and John is simply a part of him that he cannot suppress? It’s all centered in a desolate area tied to hitching and truck stops, and queer culture is essential to these ideas. Even the name John brings to mind the idea of “a John” like a client of a sex worker. It’s steeped in ideas in and around historically “deviant” sexual culture. Christine and John are strong forces influencing others, one towards repression and one towards acceptance.
Repression and Masculinity in Christine
Christine is centered around repression and masculinity. Arnie is emasculated because he is a nerdy gawky kid. He is the target of bullies. Even Dennis unintentionally emasculates him by being at Arnie’s side, constantly fighting his battles. If Arnie has romantic feelings for Dennis, it is covered by his resentment of Dennis. On the other hand, Dennis does this out of love. He wants the two to be close and gets visibly emotional as Arnie drifts further away from him. He is even jealous of Christine as soon as Arnie sees her. Dennis can be vulnerable and emotional with Arnie, but as Arnie transforms into more of a heteronormative man, he pushes their emotional connection aside. Much of it is distilled in the last conversation the two have when Arnie brings up the idea of love:
Let me tell you a little something about love, Dennis. It has a voracious appetite. It eats everything. Friendship. Family. It kills me how much it eats. But I’ll tell you something else. You feed it right, and it can be beautiful, and that’s what we have. You know, when someone believes in you, man, you can do anything, any fucking thing in the entire universe. And when you believe right back in that someone, watch out world, because nobody can stop you then, nobody! Ever!
Dennis wants this monologue to be about him, fears it is about Leigh, and finds out it is actually about Christine. Arnie always thought Dennis stuck around out of pity because of his internalized self-hatred. Yet these complex emotions are too much for these high school boys to unpack. So Arnie gets consumed by repressive gender norms and traditional values.
Repression vs. Acceptance
They both have a similar “kill your queers” ending. Unsurprising, although still too present in mainstream media. But the stories have subtle differences in portraying the last men standing. In Christine, Arnie is killed, and Dennis is welcomed back into the heteronormative fold. While in The Hitcher, Jim is no longer the sweet innocent boy he was at the beginning. He becomes the violent hard man John wanted. Dennis becomes normal, and Jim is a deviant, now living in the queer-coded world. Whether looked at as cautionary tales or happy endings, it is clear that ideas around identity and sexuality permeate these movies. Making them interesting thought pieces on socialization and how heteronormative and toxic masculinity culture have made “being yourself” difficult and often painful. Whether choosing to repress or accept, you might end up taking a ride in a flaming car.
I’m going to begin this conversation with a sort of insane thought. Halloween as a franchise maybe should have ended with its first film.
That’s not to say there’s no value in the Halloween films. Much to the contrary, I like the first three films a lot. I recommend Halloween 3: Season of the Witch to people an annoying amount; I even try to watch it a few times every October to keep the vibes up. And as you already know from clicking on this article, I enjoy Halloween H20: 20 Years Later quite a bit.
I’ve even softened up on the Rob Zombie remake duology over the years. I don’t like them, but it’s like getting flowers, I can still appreciate them. However, Halloween, as a series, has long suffered from its own success. And sometimes, it feels like it’s just going to keep suffering.
HALLOWEEN’S FIRST BOLD CHOICE AFTER 16 YEARS OF WAITING
It’s easy to forget that John Carpenter’s original Halloween was effectively the Paranormal Activity of its time. Flipping a cool $70 million and change off of a $300,000 budget, it has had a genuinely immeasurable impact on the cinematic landscape and how horror films are made.
For some, that’s a bad thing. Notoriously, my beloved 3rd entry in the franchise was considered a hard misstep by audiences. Everyone knows the story; the resounding “Where’s Michael?” response to the third entry gunned down Carpenter’s desires to turn Halloween into an anthology series. So, after going into hiding for 5 years, Halloween 4 continued the story of Michael in 1988.
And then it just kept going.
As the years went on, it became progressively harder and harder to innovate, resulting in some very odd plotlines and tones. Which is why Halloween H20 is where the franchise peaked. Because it had a rare essence to it. It had guts.
It was willing to actually kill the series once and for all, even if it was impossible to do so.
EVIL DOESN’T DIE TONIGHT, THE CONTRACT SAYS SO
Before David Gordon Green’s reboot trilogy brought Laurie back as a Sarah Connor style badass, H20’s pre-production had reinvented Strode to usher in the 20th anniversary of the first film. She went from a resilient young woman into a traumatized survivor running from her past.
The original concept for Halloween H20 involved a substance abusing Laurie Strode trying to get clean so she could die with dignity against an escaped Michael. In a turn of events, she would find the will to live and kill him once and for all. It was a concept Jamie Lee Curtis was passionate about, understandably so. Laurie wasn’t the first final girl, but she was the codifier for that ideal, in a way Jess Bradford and Sally Hardesty before her weren’t. It would have made for a harrowing exploration of what was debatably the most important final girl ever.
That isn’t what happened.
There is an infamous video from a Q&A panel with Jamie Lee Curtis where she explains that the blame for Michael surviving H20 lies primarily with one man: the late great Moustapha Akkad. Akkad was famous for his business acumen, but that desire to see the Halloween franchise make bankroll had ultimately stolen away Laurie’s triumphant victory over Michael.
You see, Akkad had written a clause into the contracts surrounding the film. A clause that she could not, in no uncertain terms, kill Michael Myers. Michael would live, no matter what Laurie did. But thanks to the meddling mind of Scream creator Kevin Williamson, who had been brought on to work on the screenplay for H20, Laurie did get her vengeance in a way.
LAURIE STRODES RETURN DONE RIGHT
The actual H20 follows Laurie Strode in hiding years after Halloween 2, ignoring the events of the sequels. She’s the headmistress of a boarding school, living under a fake name far from Haddonfield with her son. But still, she can’t let go of that Halloween night. She sees Michael’s face, The Shape, everywhere. She can barely stomach talking about what happened. But when Michael kills Dr. Loomis, nurse Marion Chambers, and then finds her, Laurie is forced to face her greatest fear once and for all.
And she does. After a prolonged chase and fight on the grounds of the school, she refuses to let a wounded Michael be taken into custody. Stealing a cop’s gun and an ambulance, Laurie runs Michael off a cliff and pins him against a tree with the vehicle. She shares a brief moment with him, inscrutable eyes reflecting Michael’s. They could be expressing a number of possible emotions. Is it empathy? Hatred? Pity? Fear leaving her for the final time?
Regardless of what it is, she’s done feeling it. With a hefty swing, she decapitates him with a fire axe, ending Michael for the last time. It’s over.
Roll credits. Audience cheers. The world is healing.
AND THEN HALLOWEEN: RESURRECTION HAPPENS
Yes, and then Halloween: Resurrection happens. Laurie is killed in the first few minutes, revealing that Michael pulled the old bamboozle switcheroonie in the previous film. She had actually just killed an ambulance driver that Michael had put the mask on. Williamson’s trick of making both Laurie and the audience believe they had killed Michael worked. But that same trick curled a finger on the monkey’s paw and led to what is definitively the worst film in the franchise.
A proto-internet streamer subplot. The kid from Smart House is there for some reason. Busta Rhymes hits Michael Myers with the Charlie Murphy front kick from that one Dave Chappelle sketch about Rick James.
Roll credits. The audience boos. Everyone who spent money on it feels like they’re being stamped to death by horses.
HALLOWEEN AS A FRANCHISE IS TERRIFIED OF ENDINGS
And this is why I say that Halloween H20 is probably the best we’re going to get out of the series, maybe ever. It is a series that, at its core, has had producers terrified of endings since even Halloween 2. Carpenter never intended there to be a sequel, or any follow ups for that matter. That was mostly the work of producer Irwin Yablans, who pushed hard to continue the story of Michael. And then, eventually, it was the work of every other producer who demanded they milk Halloween for all its worth.
H20 is a film that is antithetical to that idea. When watched as intended, ignoring Resurrection, it’s fantastic. As the end of Laurie and Michael’s story, one that shows evil is weak without fear to bolster it, it is pretty much the perfect finale. Hot off the heels of Scream’s success in 1996, H20 is often talked about as an attempt to cash in on the meta-horror craze of the 90s and early 2000s. The way people discuss it, you would think it was supposed to be a tongue-in-cheek slasher that made fun of itself and Halloween’s legacy. But in reality, aside from its humor, it ends up being quite reflective and thoughtful of that legacy.
It’s not spiteful of the films that came before it because it ends by tricking the audience. It’s what that trick represents, boldly spitting in the eye of Halloween being held prisoner for money. Mocking Halloween being stuck in an eternal cycle of rinsing and repeating the same events. It doesn’t care about franchising or longevity; it cares about telling a good story and letting its hero rest. It’s respectful to Carpenter’s creation in a way that other attempts to continue the series simply weren’t.
H20 TELLS AN ENDING, HALLOWEEN ENDS TRIES TO SELL YOU ONE
It begs the question: why does H20 work here in how it ends the series, but Halloween Ends doesn’t?
All of Ends biggest issues stem from the fact that, unlike H20, it’s trying to sell you an ending instead of making one that feels right. The maudlin closer it gives doesn’t feel real. It doesn’t feel true to the Laurie it shows us, or any other iteration of the character for that matter. It doesn’t feel genuinely emotional in any regard.
And that’s because Ends as a whole doesn’t have the spirit that H20 does. Ends is, first and foremost, a highlight reel reminding you of how cool Halloween is instead of understanding why any of its previous entries were effective. From its marketing to its incredibly clunky climax, it feels like it’s an advertisement for never letting go of Halloween, even when it should have been done a while ago. And that’s just the wrong lesson to leave on.
JANET LEIGH’S CAMEO IN H20 SPEAKS VOLUMES
Halloween H20 has a pretty famous cameo from Janet Leigh in it, an OG scream queen and the real-life mother of Jamie Lee Curtis. In it, they have a heart-to-heart as fictional characters Laurie Strode and Norma Watson. It’s made more impactful when you realize it was Leigh’s penultimate film performance, and her final performance in a horror film.
The moment serves as a cute in-joke on their real-life relationship, but more than that, it foreshadows the film’s ending. Norma urges Laurie to move past her fear, to relish her future as a survivor instead of being caught up in the past and reliving the same night over and over again.
I find this scene even more poignant now, seeing how neatly it reflects on what has happened to Halloween as a franchise in the years since the original, and especially since H20. It’s a series that got stuck in trying to continue the same story and just got progressively worse at it. In some way, it feels like it’s urging us to make a choice. No matter how deep a legacy of fear may be, it must come to an end at some point. There is no need to cling to the same stories over and over. We can enjoy them for what they are without returning to them.
No matter what the future of the Halloween franchise is, only a viewer themselves can choose where the story ends. It doesn’t matter how many times the studio brings him back, you have to make the choice. Only you decide when it ends. And for my money, H20 is the best ending you can ask for.
It’s officially Halloween season, and a great time to remind everyone that the word “spook” is a slur. Like many words and phrases in the English language, racists did what they do best and ruined it. In recent years, many Black people in the alleged horror community have tried to educate people. My favorite New Yorker Xero Gravity is one of the many who take to the socials every autumn to remind people to choose another word. A few outlets, like Newsweek and NPR, have even called it out on occasion. Yet, every year, we get an aggressive flood of people using the slur, tweeting/skeeting it. It even pops up in the name of events that do not seem to know the word is highly offensive. At least I hope they do not know, but it is 2025, so who can be sure it is not intentional?
That is why this article on the offensive legacy of the slur is long overdue. Hopefully, this will lead to fewer people throwing it around with abandon every year. Please read on to learn how you might be turning off Black people with your use of spooktacular, spookies, spook, and spooked. Then, when you know better, do better because that’s what Maya Angelou would’ve wanted.
The Origin of the Word Spook
Spook was originally the Dutch word for apparitions and spectres. So, it made sense that the English adopted it as ye olde new slang for ghosts. It lived its best life in the nineteenth century as English people remixed it and came up with words like spooky, spookish, spooked, etc. Who doesn’t love a double o sound, after all? Things were going great for people who loved the word and had no negative connotations. That is, until World War II, when things took a very problematic turn.
During the war, racists started referring to Black pilots at the Tuskegee Institute as “Spookwaffe”. Waffe is the German word for weapon or gun. Not only were these Black men thanked for their service with this new racist word, but it would follow them home to America. As we all know, segregation was the law back then, so this new slur easily picked up traction. As with all popular words and phrases, it caught like wildfire. So you had professional racists, mid-tier racists, and people who truly didn’t know it had become an offensive word, using it.
Tons of media with the spook in the dialogue, title, branding, etc., got released for decades. Some creators used it to keep the racist torches burning as things became more modern. Others just wanted to use what they thought was a harmless word. However, it is a huge gamble when you pick up something with the word attached to it as a Black horror fan.
Where Are We at Now?
Society loves problematic language and claiming their First Amendment rights are under attack if you point out why the word is offensive. While this is clearly a way for them to keep using a slur and stay ignorant, a few companies have been taken to task for using the word. In 2010, Target had to apologize and remove Spook Drop Parachuters toys from its shelves. Yet another reason they needed the DEI initiatives they cut this year. The National Theatre of Scotland stopped using the word spooky to promote A Christmas Carol in 2016, after people called them out. So, there is a larger conversation happening around the word. However, in the horror community, things are not moving nearly as quickly.
On any given day, you can search for the word spook online and see that everybody’s so creative. “Spook-a-Thon” and “Spooktacular” could be free spaces on bingo cards. People still host Midnite Spook Shows. I skipped one when it was advertised at one of my favorite film festivals this year. So, even though we are always hearing about the “horror community” and its inclusivity, we have a spook issue. How can you be in community with people when your right to use a slur is more important than how it makes them feel? It seems weird to talk about how the horror space is for everyone, but then stand ten toes down on a word with such an ugly history. Is it because no one wants to pick up a dictionary? Or do people assume we are in a post-racial world under the current elected bigot?
It’s Time for the Horror Community to Do Better
We cannot keep pretending people didn’t get the memo because we have this same conversation every Halloween season. So, it feels like people forget because it is not their problem. After all, this is not a word I see being thrown around by too many Black and Brown people. Which makes sense because forgetting a cutesy word is a slur is something only the most privileged person(s) can do. This explains why many self-proclaimed allies falter during these simple moments. Aside from refusing to loosen the grip on spook, we also see non-POC try to turn Black History Month into Women in Horror Month (WiHM) every year. These behaviors are giving anti-Blackness. There are only so many times content creators can claim they forgot. Or ask for mercy because they already programmed a thing. We have to start having real conversations and actually holding people accountable.
If you are an aspiring ally or a person with a soul, learning that spook is a slur right now, you can remove it from your vocabulary. To actually quote Maya Angelou, “Do the best you can until you know better. Then when you know better, do better.” You know better now and can step into the world with this knowledge. However, if you are a person who sees this conversation every year and then conveniently forgets…you should unpack that. Think about why you cannot let this slur go. Ask yourself what other slurs you think are cute and festive, and why. Do you use those? Whatever you find out about yourself after sitting with it for a minute might be a sign you should take the “horror community” out of your bio.
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