Editorials
Finding Radical Queer Pride in ‘Tetsuo: The Iron Man’ (1989)
What if I told you Tetsuo: The Iron Man is one of the most evocative examples of “queer awakening” ever put on screen? Okay, that’s a tad hyperbolic, and such queer assertions about beloved media are often met with resistance, but in the case of Tetsuo, queerness isn’t just a supposition or mere subtext — it’s a hard-earned revelation.
That’s not to say Tetsuo is a coming-out story. At a film festival appearance in 2016, Director Shinya Tsukamoto expressed his motivation for making films around the time of Tetsuo as one of “exploring the link between cities and men and the relationship between society and humanity.” With Tetsuo, he emphasizes the dehumanizing impact of industrialized landscapes through the erotic fusion of metal and flesh. But the intimate scale of his production, limited cast, and use of settings largely in passing reveal a metamorphosis of a more personal sort through the shifting dynamics of its character relationships.
The demolition of the central character’s straight ego sends a salaryman (Tomorowo Taguchi) on a spiritual pilgrimage through emotions associated with grief (e.g., denial, anger, bargaining) before he embraces his inescapable truth. This arc is one that many closeted or once-closeted folks can relate to and perhaps sympathize with the internalized feelings this journey evokes — not unlike experiencing a death of the Self.
The most important casualty in Tetsuo is the version of himself that was shaped to fit society’s expectations of the norm. Only after letting go of this Self does he arrive at a hilarious yet hopeful conclusion: a steeling of his sensitivity against the pressures of others, and a militant acceptance of a queer mode of being.
Enter the Salaryman
Queering the norm comes easily when you start with the generic baseline of an office worker, as Tsukamoto does. The salaryman as a concept is a bastion of normality — one who is stably (though often nebulously) employed. Someone who slots right into the corporate machine, meets the minimum expectations as a productive member of society, and doesn’t challenge the status quo. But when Tsukamoto introduces his salaryman, the character is already in a state of torment and distress. He writhes and flails in a spotlight, flinging sweat as the movie’s title card scrolls to heavy, industrial beats.
An office worker is a role one might expect to receive some disdain from a filmmaker who was branded a failure and forced out of his family home for dedicating himself to independent art over gainful employment.2 But Tsukamoto doesn’t torture his salaryman without purpose. He aims to help the character transcend his conventional origins, deprogram his insecurities, and become stronger and more self-assured when all is said and done.
Flashback: A Fateful Collision
While we’re never shown the true nature of the salaryman’s profession, we do learn that he begins his journey of self-discovery while he is in an active relationship with a woman (Kei Fujiwara). Through carefully planted flashbacks, we see that the overzealous expression of their sexual love is directly to blame for their unfortunate collision with a pedestrian in crisis: the “metal fetishist” (Tsukamoto) whose hysteria over his body’s rejection of dirty, DIY metal implants sent him barreling into the couple’s path.
The pair awkwardly emerges from their vehicle, adjusting their clothes after their motor-borne tryst to dump the injured man among the trees. They then finish their sexual gratification in voyeuristic view of their unusual yet undead victim. Throughout their exhibition, the salaryman notably keeps his gaze squarely on the body of the unfortunate man — never on his partner — an early sign of a shift in his attention.
The significance of their victim’s metal affinity feels innately queer in comparison to the couple’s organic bond. Tsukamoto emphasized the eroticism of its symbolism in an interview with AsianMoviePulse.com where he stated, “I chose metal as a kind of fetish, because the electric brain and the human body becoming one with the metal is more like the act of making love, it has a strong sexual connotation.”
An Unfamiliar Self
Soon after this harrowing encounter in which a man, rather than a woman, first commandeered the salaryman’s focus, he awakens at home and attempts to proceed with life as usual, beginning his day with a fresh shave. The moment he steps in front of his mirror, he notices something has changed. A metallic “zit” appears on his cheek, which he quickly pops and covers with a bandage. This marks the beginning of his slip into unfamiliarity with the person he once envisioned himself to be.
It would be easy to write off this identity crisis as stemming from guilt over the surmised manslaughter and cover-up of the pancaked pedestrian whose dying vision was the couple in lust, but this simplification fails to capture the full scope of the shift in the salaryman’s relationship dynamics that the movie continues to explore.
Denial: A Creeping Suspicion
After the salaryman begins to question things he once knew about himself, he is thrust into a world where he must confront how he relates to others as well. On the way to his nondescript office job, he sits beside a bookish woman who is suddenly gripped by a metallic parasite that grants her a grotesque, metal claw. She becomes monstrous in the salaryman’s eyes and even chases him when he runs.
The pursuer corners him in an auto mechanic’s workshop, clutches her breast until it bursts, and speaks with the voice of the metal fetishist who should otherwise be rotting in a ditch. The salaryman’s hapless hit-and-run victim lives on, either as an obsessive figment of his guilt or somehow supernaturally revived in his grimy lair from where he remotely controls the parasitic claw’s host. The salaryman snuffs out the possessed woman with a full-body vice grip, then hurries home as his own metallic corruption courses further throughout his body.
The fact that this stranger is a woman is an important detail in this queer reading of the film. It forces our salaryman to confront a shift in his relationship with the opposite sex, lending fuel to the interpretation of a queer awakening. Defeminized through her possession by the fetishist, perhaps it’s not her womanhood that the salaryman wants to escape but rather the growing allure of metallic masculinity.
A Deadly Repression
But what of the salaryman’s attachment to his girlfriend? Their attraction is shown as highly sexual, but Tsukamoto seems to have hinted at cracks in their foundation from the moment their relationship was introduced. In the awkward phone call after the salaryman pops his metal zit, the lovers volley “Hello?” back and forth with little else to add. The salaryman seems far more engrossed in the newspaper than their call. Is he searching defensively for news about their crime, or is he perhaps hoping for a sign that the mangled man was rescued?
After his encounter with the stalker in the train station, the salaryman races home and dreams vividly of his girlfriend sodomizing him with a serpentine strap-on. While their physical relationship has shown significant freedom from prudishness, this is the first time we see a break from gendered norms. One has to question what the fantasy means for the salaryman as he grapples with the persistent allure of the metal fetishist.
Waking in a sweat, the two engage in desperate sex until the spread of his metal-morphosis painfully interrupts their act. As the couple recoups over breakfast, the salaryman is simultaneously aroused and perturbed by the heightened sounds of teeth meeting the metal utensils. He begs his girlfriend to promise not to leave him as he reveals the nature of his recent struggles.
In this moment, what the salaryman appears to fear most is abandonment for revealing his new truth, but one last attempt to mask or repress his physical and sexual condition leads to the impalement and untimely death of the final link between him and his former (i.e., straight) identity.
A Wake-up Call
As the body of his former girlfriend rests in the bathtub, the phone begins to ring. The salaryman — now almost entirely cast in metal — picks up the receiver, and the fetishist on the other end announces that he knows the salaryman’s secret. This prompts our salaryman to recall the collision that started him on his path of self-discovery — this time from his victim’s perspective. Afraid of being outed, the salaryman shoves a knife into an electrical outlet, but the shock only amplifies his metal-morphosis and creates an electromagnetic attraction that draws the metal fetishist to him.
The fetishist co-opts the girlfriend’s body and reconstitutes it as his own, appearing before the salaryman with a bouquet in hand. “Soon even your brain will turn into metal,” he says, crawling on top of the salaryman. “Let me show you something wonderful… a new world!”
In this moment, the salaryman finally recognizes a possible future in metal — one where he is not alone because the fetishist shares his brand of metallic disposition. But admitting as much would rewire all that the salaryman has known, and he flees in a panic one last time.
Tsukamoto addressed his fascination with anti-heroic characters like the metal fetishist (whom he often embodies in his films) in an interview with Variety.com. “In the beginning, the main character struggles and tries to avoid the path he is being sent down,” he said. “But the stalker awakes another side to his personality and pushes him towards being someone else. It’s fascinating to see something that is hidden inside someone.”
Bargaining: The Final Resistance
The salaryman begins to synchronize and sympathize with the fetishist. As he runs, he experiences visions of the car accident and past traumas that influenced the fetishist’s metal affinity, all from the perspective of his pursuer. While the salaryman’s own reformation is shiny, untainted, and new, the fetishist’s metallic nature is rusted and impure, which could perhaps be attributed to the solitary, unsupported nature of the fetishist’s own path to self-discovery.
Their chase ends in a heap of metal. The salaryman’s new reality can no longer be denied. The fetishist decides to end the salaryman’s anguish, but the salaryman has come to terms with his new reality and refuses to enter his “new world” alone. With a deep, pelvic thrust, he assimilates the fetishist into his being — solitary trauma and all.
Radical Acceptance
The salaryman finally accepts his position outside the conditions that society once placed upon him, and now he does not have to live in fear of the future alone. Tsukamoto leaves no ambiguity to the nature of the salaryman and the fetishist’s intimacy with his image of the pair nude and joined at one hand with a metal cuff. Their bond is inseparable. In a flash, the two are transformed into a phallic tank, ready to make their vision of a “New World” a reality through radical, shared pride.
While this analysis examines one particular journey through identity, no journey of self-discovery is identical. For some, growing into a new identity is a slow burn. For others, it may be a sudden upheaval, as with the leap of a frenzied pedestrian into their life’s trajectory. Whether someone is gay, bisexual, or even a budding artist in a family of doctors, there’s something about the salaryman’s journey that can speak to anyone who has contended with the pressure of meeting the expectations of others before their own, and that’s precisely what I love about this gloriously weird movie.
May we all take pride in who we are and wreak our own brand of reconstructive havoc on an unjust world. As the metal fetishist so gleefully declares, “Our love can destroy this whole fucking world!” (Penis panzer optional.)
There are only so many times I can get away with burying the lede with an editorial headline before someone throws a rock at me. It may or may not be justified when they do. This article is not an attempt at ragebaiting Scream fans, I promise. Neither was my Scream 3 article, which I’m still completely right about.
I do firmly believe that Scream 2 is, at the very least, the last Scream film I’d want to watch. But what was initially just me complaining about a film that I disregard as the weakest entry in its series has since developed into trying to address what it does right. You’ve heard of the expression “jack of all trades, master of none”, and to me Scream 2 really was the jack of all trades of the franchise for the longest time.
It technically has everything a Scream movie needs. Its opening is great, but it’s not the best of them by a long shot. Its killers are unexpected, but not particularly interesting, feeling flat and one-dimensional compared to the others. It has kills, but only a few of them are particularly shocking or well executed. It pokes fun at the genre but doesn’t say anything particularly bold in terms of commentary. Having everything a Scream movie needs is the bare minimum to me.
But the question is, what does Scream 2 do best exactly? Finding that answer involves highlighting what each of the other sequels are great at, and trying to pick out what Scream 2 has that the others don’t.
Scream 3 Is the Big Finale That Utilizes Its Setting Perfectly
Scream as a series handily dodges the trap most horror franchises fall into: rehashing and retreading the same territory over and over. That’s because every one of its films are in essence trying to do something a little different and a little bolder.
Scream 3 is especially bold because it was conceived, written, and executed as the final installment in the Scream series. And it does that incredibly well. Taking the action away from a locale similar to Woodsboro, Scream 3 tosses our characters into the frying pan of a Hollywood film production. Despite its notorious number of rewrites and script changes (one of which resulted in our first solo Ghostface), it still manages to be a perfect culmination of Sidney Prescott’s story.
I won’t repeat myself too much (go read my previous article on the subject), but 3 is often maligned for as good a film as it turned out to be. And for all of its clunkier reveals, and its ghost mom antics, it understands how to utilize its setting and send its characters off into the sunset right.
Scream 4’s Meta Commentary Wakes Scream from a Deep Sleep
As Wes Craven’s final film, Scream 4 has a very special place in the franchise. It was and still is largely adored for bringing back the franchise from a deep 11-year sleep. With one of the craziest openings in any horror film, let alone a Scream film, it sets the tone for a bombastic return and pays off in spades with the journey it takes us on.
Its primary Ghostface Jill Roberts is a fan favorite, and for some people, she is the best to ever wear the mask. Its script is the source of many memorable moments, not the least of which is Kirby’s iconic rapid-fire response to the horror remakes question. And most importantly, it makes a bold and surprisingly effective return for our main trio of Sidney, Dewey, and Gale, whose return didn’t feel trite or hammy when they ended up coming back to Woodsboro for more.
Craven’s work on 4 truly understands the power its predecessors had exerted on the horror genre, both irreverent in its metacommentary and celebratory of the Scream series as a whole. The film is less of a love letter to the genre and more of a kicking down of the door to remind people what Scream is about. 4’s story re-established that Scream isn’t going away, no matter how long it takes for another film, and no matter how many franchises try to take its place.
Scream 5 & 6 Is Radio Silence’s Brutal and Bloody Attitude Era
Put simply, Scream 5 and 6’s strong suit was not its characters. It was not its clever writing. The Radio Silence duology in the Scream series excelled in one thing: beating the hell out of its characters.
Wrestling fans (of which there is an unsurprising amount of crossover with horror fans) will know why I call it the Attitude Era. Just like WWE’s most infamous stretch of history, Radio Silence brought something especially aggressive to their entries. And it’s because these films were just brutal. Handing the reins to the series, Bettinelli-Olpin and Gillet gifted a special kineticism to the classic Scream chase sequences, insane finales, and especially its ruthless killers.
All five of the Ghostfaces present in 5 and 6 are the definition of nasty. They’re unrelenting, and in my humble opinion, the freakiest since the original duo of Stu Macher and Billy Loomis. Getting to hear all the air get sucked out of the room as Dewey is gutted like a fish in 5 was still an incredible moment to experience in theatres, and it’s something I don’t think would have happened if the films were any less mean and any less explosively violent.
So, What Does Scream 2 Do Best Exactly?
So now, after looking at all these entries and all of their greatest qualities, what does Scream 2 have that none of the others do? What must I concede to Scream 2?
Really great character development.
Film is a medium of spectacle most of the time, and this is reflected in how we critique and compliment them. It affects how we look back on them, sometimes treating them more harshly than they deserve because they don’t have that visual flash. But for every ounce of spectacle Scream 2 lacks, I have to admit, it does an incredible job of developing Sidney Prescott as a character.
On a rare rewatch, it’s clear Neve Campbell is carrying the entirety of Scream 2 on her back just because of how compelling she makes Sidney. Watching her slowly fight against a tide of paranoia, fear, and distrust of the people around her once more, watching her be plunged back into the nightmare, is undeniably effective.
It’s also where Dewey and Gale are really cemented as a couple, and where the seeds of them always returning to each other are planted. Going from a mutual simmering disrespect to an affectionate couple to inseparable but awkward and in love is just classic; two people who complete each other in how different they are, but are inevitably pulled back and forth by those differences, their bond is one of the major highlights throughout the series.
Maybe All the Scream Films Are Just Good?
These three characters are the heart of the series, long after they’ve been written out. I talk a big game about how Scream 3 is the perfect ending for the franchise, but I like to gloss over the fact that Scream 2 does a lot of the legwork when it comes to developing the characters of Dewey, Gale, and especially Sidney.
Without 2, 3 just isn’t that effective when it comes to giving Sidney her long deserved peace. Without 2, the way we see Sidney’s return in 4 & 5 doesn’t hit as hard. All of the Scream movies owe something to Scream 2 in the same way they owe something to the original Scream. I think I’ve come to a new point of view when it comes to the Scream franchise: maybe there is no bad entry. Maybe none of them have to be the worst. Each one interlinks with the others in their own unique way.
And even though I doubt I will ever really love Scream 2, it has an undeniable strength in its character writing that permeates throughout the whole franchise. And that at the very least keeps it from being the worst Scream film.
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.
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