Editorials
Transformed: A Trans Take on ‘Suspiria’ & ‘Possessor’

It’s a hard time to be a trans person. Not only do we have to sift through the identities projected upon us to discover our true selves, but every day an onslaught of anti-trans propaganda and legislature is lobbed in our direction to effectively ban trans individuals from public life. It is cruel beyond any sane measure to target self-expression when trans acceptance is an invigorating feeling. Discovering one’s transness is scary, yet it is by looking past societal expectations of gender and sexuality that we discover our true power and potential.
2018’s Suspiria is a film about how society bends self-expression into the political and how refusing conformity is in itself an act of radical transformation. The film’s protagonist Susie Bannion (Dakota Johnson) comes from a conservative Mennonite community, yet is drawn to Berlin, where the Markos Dance Academy resides. Once at the academy, Susie is swept up into the studio’s politics, as her peers fall out of favor with the studio’s lead instructor Madame Blanc (Tilda Swinton). Blanc quickly elevates her to the position of lead dancer as the other dance instructors dispose of her competitors using witchcraft.
The coven believes Susie will serve as a means for extending the life of the academy’s director Madame Markos. However, in an act of defiance, Susie interrupts their ritual, digging her hands into her chest and tearing it open to reveal a hidden, gasping organ. She breathes, her eyes falling shut in pained bliss. When she opens her eyes, Susie is transformed by the knowledge of who she is—a reincarnation of the coven’s deity, Mother Suspiriorum—and is empowered to destroy the coven that betrayed her.
Back when I first saw Suspiria (2018), I had accepted that I was queer, but what exactly that meant, I was unsure. Several years later, I awoke in the middle of the night, anxious with a knot in my stomach. I mulled over the source of my discomfort –a coworker’s insistence at calling me ‘man’ instead of my name—and came to a conclusion I had avoided considering: that I wasn’t a ‘man’, but rather, someone who didn’t align with my assigned gender. Much like how Susie’s power becomes undeniable once she awakens her true self, this revelation was one I knew I couldn’t force back inside myself. I had finally seen who I truly was and knew I couldn’t deny it.
Brandon Cronenberg’s Possessor (2020) is a sci-fi horror film rooted in the existential, as Tasya (Andrea Riseborough), a hitman who biologically splices and possesses the bodies of those near and dear to her targets, finds the boundary between herself and the inhabited blurred. Tasya exists in a personal and professional liminal space, as her handler Girder (Jennifer Jason Leigh), urges her to assassinate higher-priority targets. Yet, she is drawn to the domestic life she once shared with her son and ex-husband. Despite this dissonance, Tasya agrees to inhabit the body of Colin (Christopher Abbott), the fiancé of a powerful tech mogul’s daughter. Tasya is warned of the risks of this operation, with Girder warning her that the implant that allows her to inhabit Colin’s body is designed to quickly degrade, requiring her to do daily calibrations to prevent her from losing grasp of her true self as she completes the hit.
As Tasya assumes Colin’s life, she immediately struggles to separate the personal and professional, regularly following her son and ex-husband as Colin despite the risk of miscalibration. While Tasya is tasked to kill Colin’s future father-in-law and then Colin himself, Tasya cannot kill herself and return to her own body, forcing her to go on the run, miss her regular calibrations, and lose track of where she begins and Colin ends. As the implant in Colin’s brain degrades, he fights for control of his body. Believing Tasya is responsible for frying his brain, Colin seizes control, breaks into her family home, and mistakenly slaughters her family as he wrestles with Tasya’s psyche for control.
While Possessor isn’t explicitly a trans film, it digs into themes of identity and the consequences of losing one’s true self. Tasya must not only take control of her victims’ bodies but also displace their consciousness. She reduces her targets to tools to achieve an end, but when Colin fights back, she wrestles control back by causing him to question if they are responsible for the deaths of his loved ones. This constant questioning of where the boundary between Tasya and Colin is causes it to blur, resulting in mutual destruction as their loved ones meet violent ends.
As trans people, the confusion that arises by questioning our gender is often weaponized against us by the right. Discovering one’s identity and choosing to express oneself because of these revelations is framed as mental illness, allowing conservative politicians to villainize and scapegoat trans people as dangerous, violent, and deserving of a sanitarium. Possessor shows what happens when one’s identity is torn away from them. As Tasya seizes Colin’s own body, she effectively strips him of his autonomy to kill his loved ones. Yet, the most horrific aspect of this method of assassination is that Colin’s loved ones believe him to be responsible for their deaths in their final moments. Tasya takes everything Colin sees himself as and wields it as a weapon, using his identity to create a convincing narrative to fit her agency’s purposes, much like conservative politicians constantly seek a narrative to demonize trans and LGBTQIA+ populations.
Much like Susie Banon’s transformation began with blood and suffering, searching inwards and discovering that a person’s true self isn’t the same as the one projected upon them is painful. But that discovery can be invigorating, making the transformed feel like they are just now seeing the world for the first time. To be trans requires a great deal of bravery and perseverance, yet we are politicized and weaponized as false narratives equate transness with the violent destruction of traditional family values. Possessor is a film where the creation of untrue narratives and the slander of one’s true self results in equally devastating consequences for the perpetrator as the victim; however, while Tasya’s actions come back around to bite her, the enemies of the so-called trans agenda align themselves with fascism and illogical fallacies, hiding behind layers of privilege, wealth, and systematic loopholes. As trans people, we can only fight so hard without giving our opponents more fuel for their propaganda machine. Still, regardless of trans legislation throughout the world, our acknowledgment of our true selves and the power that comes from it is something they can’t take from us.
Editorials
‘I Know What You Did Last Summer’: And the Impact of Slasher Sequel Trends

Legacy sequels are not a new invention in the horror genre. The 2020s have seen several horror legacy sequels keeping the same name as their predecessors and retconning the canon to revitalize the franchise for a new generation of movie-goers. We have seen this with the Halloween, Scream, Candyman, and Texas Chainsaw Massacre franchises. All of which kept the movie title of the original installment (minus the 2022 TCM movie, which dropped “The” and made “chainsaw” one word again) and removed nearly all installments after the first from the canon (minus Scream 2022, which is a continuation of Scream 4).
Slasher fanatics are getting a new legacy sequel with the fourth installment of I Know What You Did Last Summer (IKWYDLS) hitting theaters this July. So far, we know that there will be legacy cast members returning, and it is expected to be a direct sequel to I Still Know What You Did Last Summer, according to Variety. Based on its horror franchise cohorts, here are my predictions for the new IKWYDLS movie.
Spoilers ahead for Halloween (2018), Candyman (2021), Scream (2022), and Texas Chainsaw Massacre (2022).
Legacy Cast Turned Harbingers
Legacy cast members are not being hunted down yet again, but they now offer knowledge and a warning to the new class of fresh meat. The previous survivors and final girls now evolve to a different horror movie trope: the harbingers.
We see this in a few movies. Laurie Strode warns her family in Halloween 2018. Dewey accurately predicts the killer to be Amber and Richie in Scream 2022. Anne-Marie discourages her son, Anthony, from uttering the word “Candyman” and reveals that the hooked-handed legend is the real danger in Nia DaCosta’s Candyman (2021).
The first trailer for the new IKWYDLS shows Ray urging officials in a town hall to take the events seriously. In the second trailer, Julie shares her final girl advice not to be a passive victim and identify possible motives to narrow down who the new deadly fisherman is. I am looking forward to seeing a seasoned Freddie Prinze Jr and Jennifer Love Hewitt reprise their roles and hopefully be engaging harbingers.
Previous Final Girl Becomes The Real Danger
In their role as a harbinger, the legacy final girl is back for blood. This is extensively shown in Halloween 2018 as Laurie Strode is now a firearms specialist and has designed her home to be a trap for Michael Myers. The sequence of her hunting for Michael in her house in the third act is unforgettable and bad ass. Sidney Prescott (and Gale Weathers) spoil Ghostface’s plan in Scream 2022 simply by showing up to the murder party.
Yes, Ghostface did want Sidney there, but they were very unprepared for how tactical she would be and not take the bait on tricks that a new slasher survivor would. Sidney was fine with shooting first and asking questions later!
Sally Hardesty (played by Owlen Fouere) makes her first return to the TCM franchise in the Netflix 2022 Texas Chainsaw Massacre legacy sequel. She has been trying to track down Leatherface and his family for decades, and finally gets her chance for revenge. An interesting take on what she has been up to for the past nearly 50 years.
Julie and Ray could be the power couple that the new survivors need. After all, they did evade and clumsily defeat Ben Willis in the 1997 movie. They made up for the clumsy execution with a more impressive effort in I Still Know What You Did Last Summer by Ray traveling to an island to fist fight the father-son duo while Julie unloaded a revolver into Ben Willis.
Both demonstrating they have learned from their first encounter with a murder and not taking second chances. I do not expect them to play the wait-and-see approach in the new movie.
The Legacy Death
What keeps horror hounds coming back to slasher franchises are the kills. Fans of slasher flicks want to see their beloved Michael Myers or Leatherface hack away at the youths who break horror movie rules. However, the shock and surprise come from meaningful deaths, and this does lead to fan favorites getting the axe (or chainsaw).
Dewey loses his plot armor in Scream 2022 as Ghostface recognizes, in a meta way, the importance of his death by saying “It’s an honor” as his corpse hits the floor. Sally finally finds her prey, only to receive a chainsaw in the abdomen and to be yeeted into a pile of garbage (I’m still salty about this). In Candyman, while he may not be considered part of the “legacy cast”, Anthony McCoy is still an important returning character. He meets his demise after William Burke saws off his hand, and the Chicago police later slay Anthony in a poignant scene. These deaths make the audience feel the gravity of the situation and fear what is now possible for the new cast.
I Still Know What You Did Last Summer left us with three possible legacy characters returning: Julie, Ray, and Karla (played by Brandy). Trailers have not revealed a Brandy cameo, but it is not out of the question for her to return as the sacrificial legacy death. I personally believe there is a bigger chance for Ray to meet his end, similar to Dewey. While all filmmakers hope for audiences to fall in love with their new characters, any financial success will likely warrant a sequel that will need to feature Jennifer Love Hewitt to keep the slasher fans excited. Fingers crossed that Julie makes it out of her third run-in with the vengeful fisherman.
I Know What You Did Last Summer hits theaters July 18, and I’ll eagerly be seated to see what trends this new addition has to offer to the slasher legacy sequel canon.
Editorials
Finding Unexpected Empowerment in “Poor Things”

A young person, raised by a scientist and seemingly simple minded by design, discovers their inner hedonist. In their quest for pleasure, they leave their home and embark on misadventures involving sex, sugar, an abusive relationship, and various enlightenments, all before returning home to confront their past so that they may move towards their future. This is the streamlined arc for both Poor Things protagonist Bella Baxter and myself. When I saw Poor Things in theaters in January 2024, the only things I knew about the film were that Yorgos Lanthimos directed it and that the cast included Emma Stone, Ramy Youssef, and Willem Dafoe.
You can imagine my surprise when I not only felt the impact of Bella’s arc, but also felt seen and even empowered in a way that I rarely do as a queer disabled man.
Discovering Bella Baxter in Poor Things
Bella, an adult woman who exhibits childlike behavior, is under the care of scientist Godwin Baxter, who has taken on the role of her father figure. Conversations with his student Max reveals that Bella’s body is the resurrected corpse of a woman that Godwin discovered, while her brain had originally belonged to the child the woman had been pregnant with. It’s important to note that Godwin didn’t know the circumstances of the woman’s death before he pulled off this macabre miracle. More on that later.
Bella eventually has her first sexual experience through masturbation, is instantly hooked on the gratification she feels, and tries to achieve constant satisfaction proclaiming “Bella discover happy when she want.”. Those around her, such as Max and Godwin’s maid Prim, are less than elated about Bella’s newfound desires, but Bella shamelessly persists. Godwin, in response, decides to try to arrange a marriage between Bella and Max, with the condition that the pair live with him for the rest of his days. While Max agrees, Bella ultimately decides to leave their home in London to embark on a whirlwind affair with Godwin’s lawyer, Duncan Wedderburn. Duncan, enticed by the contradicting nature of Bella’s innocence and sexual hedonism, pursues and woos her with promises of worldliness and sex.
Subverting Disability Stereotypes
One of the most common stereotypes in media around disabled people is the belief that their disabilities render them either asexual or unable to obtain any type of sexual gratification at all. When one reads Bella as disabled-coded, as I do, she becomes one of the strongest subversions of the “disabled equals asexual” trope seen in recent, mainstream film history. A disabled-coded reading also makes Bella’s hypersexuality much less problematic than it would be if the character was only analyzed at a surface level. The juxtaposition of disability and hypersexuality is an aspect of Bella’s character that I greatly identify with.
In early childhood, I was diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder, and as an adult, I also tend to chase this type of gratification for the sake of leisurely pleasure or even as a way to cope with stress. With Duncan, Bella travels first to Lisbon, Portugal, where the two spend their time together having sex and eating exotic foods and sweets. Bella’s constant craving for more pleasure proves to be too much for Duncan, who grows to resent her as he is unable to keep up.
His resentment is compounded by Bella’s social ineptitude, as she repeatedly embarrasses him with several faux pas during a dinner party at their hotel. For example, after taking an extra moment to understand her female dinner mate’s sex joke, Bella makes a comment about the taste of Duncan’s penis. When Duncan reprimands her and restricts her to a few choice phrases, she describes the death of her dining companion’s relative as “delightful”; she later interrupts the dinner banter because she wants to “punch [a] baby” that’s annoying her.
Bella’s Misadventures with Duncan Wedderburn
Bella’s unfiltered comments and inappropriate responses are painfully reminiscent of my own past social failings, from remarks about my former partner’s genitals, to intrusive questions about the suicide of a classmate’s uncle, and finally to vocalized violent inclinations towards small, annoying children. Thankfully, like Bella, I was stopped before any harm could come to the younglings.
Despite their growing tensions, Bella and Duncan stay together, even as Bella goes on to binge alcohol and have sexual encounters with other men. Duncan eventually lures her out of Lisbon with a cruise to Athens, Greece. Bella is quite displeased with this change until she befriends two fellow patrons, Martha and Harry, who open her eyes to pursuits beyond her hedonism, and introduce her to philosophy and literature, irking Duncan.
Bella’s Intellectual and Emotional Growth in Poor Things
Bella embraces the intellectual stimulation presented to her, leading to a debate with Harry over humanity’s potential for cruelty in which Bella argues that humankind is not inherently cruel. Harry retaliates when the cruise docks by showing her the conditions that poor people must endure. Bella gives her and Duncan’s money to members of the ship’s crew with the (ultimately ignored) instruction to distribute it to the poor. The rash decision results in Bella and Duncan being left to fend for themselves in Paris. Bella, to Duncan’s outrage, finds work in a local brothel, a job that she views as merely a means to an end. She ends their relationship and gives him money to return to London. Bella continues life as a sex worker, taking on many lovers in the process, including a fellow sex worker named Antoinette.
The trajectory of Bella and Duncan’s relationship evokes a situationship I had years ago with an older man that would prove to be formative. Like Duncan, he presented himself as a mature man of many sexual interests that he would help me dip my toes into. And, like Duncan, he seemed to be attracted to me only when I was entirely compliant with his whims, and had an issue with me having friends and connections outside of him. I, like Bella, also managed to have a much larger libido than the supposedly adventurous gentleman, which amplified the tension as I was always wanting more. Finally, after ending this affair, I, like Bella, learned an important lesson or two and threw myself into my personal development and goals.
Returning Home and Facing the Past
Bella’s story eventually sees her return to London. She learns the truth about her origins and reconciles with Godwin, whose health is failing. She also meets Felicity—a “new Bella” that Godwin and Max created. This is a subplot that deeply resonates with me, specifically Godwin and Max’s treatment of Felicity in comparison to their treatment of Bella. Godwin doted on Bella and Max fell for her, whereas the pair grew frustrated with Felicity and essentially abandoned her to be cared for solely by Prim. It’s easy to view Bella and Felicity as higher and lower-functioning disabled people, with Bella as the preferable one because she can mask her symptoms better than Felicity can.
Several times, I have been in Bella’s position of being a preferable disabled person to interact with compared to others because of my higher functioning and less obvious presentation. I’ve even experienced this dynamic in my childhood with my sister having ADD and ADHD, which was deemed more draining for our parents compared to my own diagnosis. It’s been a journey to overcome the internalized ableism that these experiences created, but it’s one that I’m glad I’ve embarked on. Among other things, it makes Bella rightfully directing the disdain she has for Felicity towards Godwin and Max so much more satisfying, even if she does offer both men forgiveness.
Uncovering Bella’s Tragic Origins
In London, Bella learns that her body, pre-reanimation, had belonged to a sadistic woman named Victoria Blessington, who, along with her husband Alfie, abused their servants. Alfie informs Bella that Victoria died by suicide, likely due to her hatred of her unborn child, which she referred to as “the monster.” Alfie plots to imprison Bella and subject her to female genital mutilation. Bella ultimately escapes and takes Alfie back to Godwin’s home, where she performs her own surgery—one in which she replaces Alfie’s brain with a goat’s.
Although Godwin dies shortly after Bella’s return, Bella remains ever the optimist and becomes a scientist, following in Godwin’s footsteps. She builds a life with her chosen family, including Max and Antoinette as her partners, Felicity as her surrogate sister, and Prim and Alfie as her servant and pet, respectively. The film’s ending is not the traditional “Good For Her (™)” conclusion we tend to see, but rather a “Good For Bella” ending that empowers her, as a person, uniquely.
Bella Baxter’s Queer and Polyamorous Awakening
The conclusion of Poor Things brings home my feelings of kinship with Bella in two ways. The first being her completed arc from the cruel and hateful Victoria to the joyful and sincere Bella. When I was younger, I was definitely more Victoria than Bella; my younger self was a bully who enjoyed using my sharp tongue to bring others down as hard as I could. It was a lot of work to become a better person, one that I struggle to maintain from time to time. Like Bella, I have found kindness to be more rewarding than cruelty and wish to believe in the inherent joy in humanity.
The other way this conclusion resonates with me is through our—Bella’s and my own— late queer awakenings. For over half of the film, we have no indication that Bella is queer besides the likely unintentional hint of Bella rejecting Godwin and Max’s heteronormative ideals of marriage. We don’t see anything concrete until the montage of her sexual escapades in Paris, concluding with her and Antoinette having sex. It awakens Bella’s queerness in her adulthood to the point where she ends up in a throuple with Antoinette and Max, revealing that Bella is both queer and polyamorous. Similarly, I did not have my queer awakening until I was twenty, and I had my awakening as polyamorous only last year. Bella is a fictional character, but it is comforting to know that it is possible for others to have those awakenings occur later in life.
Embracing My Disabled and Queer Identity
When I look back at Poor Things, I see it as a messy and polarizing film by design. The questions of whether we should be offended, intrigued, or feel something else entirely regarding the plot of a woman being reanimated with her baby’s brain in place of her own and eventually embarking on a quest of hedonism are valid ones that do warrant discourse. I don’t resent those who are outraged by the film and detest the film’s critical success.
However, I can’t find myself outraged, especially when the film’s protagonist’s experiences mirror my own, with Bella becoming a comfort character to me as a result. In the time since my initial viewing of Poor Things, I have found so much more pride in being disabled and queer that I keep surprising myself. I used to be embarrassed to discuss my disability in any detail, because I feared that I would be treated differently or viewed as merely trying to excuse my own faults with my neurodivergence.
On the contrary, those who care about me now understand me better, and I have a film that I can point to for them to have a glimpse into my lived experience. I’ve even become more proud of my queerness to the point of going to my first Pride celebration last summer, as well as having an awakening in regards to my polyamory. I cannot begrudge a film like Poor Things for its messiness when it has empowered me so much in the way that it ultimately empowers its protagonist.