Editorials
All My Homies Love Cronenberg
Why do Transgender people love Cronenberg?

It starts on a Friday night with pizza, wine, and some cookies I pick up from the bodega. We all talk for a while, then, after accidentally clicking the awful movie of the same name from 2004, we begin Crash by David Cronenberg. Everyone else in the room is either transmasc or a trans woman. We’re all in our mid-late twenties. Someone should make a sitcom about us.
Crash!
I’m worried at first; we’re here because of me, and if someone doesn’t like the movie, it’s my stupid fault. During one of the early post-crash scenes, Charlotte tosses off a quick “that’s what my bottom surgery looked like” over a shot of Ballard’s (the film’s protagonist) scar. And we’re off. We cheer on the sex scenes. Oggle the car crashes. We cast the movie among the seven of us. Em is Vaughan. Dev is Ballard. Charlotte’s seen the movie before. She waits for the scene where Seagrave and Vaughan plan their recreation of the Jayne Mansfield car crash, and when Seagrave says, “I want tits out to here,” she pulls out the sniper: “Christian, that’s you!!”
After it’s over, we all go outside. They smoke cigarettes. We talk about our favorite scenes. The one where Vaughan and Ballard have sex and then crash cars into each other stands out. Then we go inside and listen to Charlie XCX until it’s time for everyone to go home.
To the trans folks I know, Cronenberg is cool.
Why Do Trans People Love Cronenberg?
This isn’t an isolated incident — a lot of trans people like Cronenberg. I’m far from the first person to make this observation. Cronenberg focuses, with monk-like dedication, on bodily transformations. His films are about humans evolving, often through some kind of new technology, into something else. Characters revel in the transformation. They’re sympathetic; bodily change makes them happy. Some characters object, but they’re usually the antagonists. Without fail, Cronenberg makes these changes sticky, gory, perverted, cold, unflattering—there’s a reason why it’s called body horror, not body romance. The transformation often ends in death, so if what we see is so horrible, why do the characters not perceive it that way? They must be seeing and experiencing something different than us. We, as trans people, are always on the outside of someone else’s joy. The trans connection is obvious, and the filmmaker, while not doing it on purpose, is aware of it.
“Body is reality. I want to change my reality. That means I have to change my body.”- David Cronenberg
We can talk about subtext all day, but I want evidence. I want it in the flesh. I want to watch a bunch of Cronenberg films and talk about them with my trans friends.
The Quiet Part Out Loud
After our late night watching Crash, I slept late and met up with my buddy Day for coffee. The conversation naturally shifts to ExistenZ. She hits me with a “he’s great, but I don’t know why all his movies have plots. If you want to film hot TV actors fingering each other’s VR holes, you can just do that.”
The next night, my cis friend Archer comes over. We make giant cookies and eat them while watching Scanners. I take a picture of Michael Ironside in the scene where he has an eye drawing taped over the hole he drilled in his head and send it to Emerson. “Who ain’t drilled a hole or two these days?” she replies.
But it’s Monday that I’m really excited about. Meg and I are going to talk about Crimes of the Future. Meg was there for the Crash viewing but was quiet. Our schedules don’t line up, so we watch the movie on our own and meet at a bar. We grab a table in the corner and nerd out.
Crimes has the most trans subtext we’ve seen in a Cronenberg film. It features a subculture of people who modify their organs so they can eat plastic to survive in a world falling apart. A child is born naturally with these organs, and it horrifies the mother so much that she kills her kid. Meg introduces me to the concept of bioessentialism, the belief that the way things were biologically created is the way they should always be. She points out that the antagonists in the movie hold on to an old-fashioned vision of humanity that reflects some abstract view of “nature,” not lived-in experience.
Bioessentialism leads to acts of terror in Crimes of the Future, and ours as well. “Nature” is a big stumbling block for conservatives and many status-quo liberals. They can comfort themselves that cis gay people were “born this way,” but looking hard at trans people forces them to confront what it means to step against nature to create yourself.
Meg also points out that when you combine the oft-quoted slogan in Videodrome (“long live the new flesh”) with the motto in Crimes (“surgery is the new sex”), you get “long live the new sex.”
Do with that what you will.
The New Flesh
It ends with Charlotte. She comes over Tuesday night and steals some makeup for me. We watch Videodrome, the movie that sparked my love of Cronenberg. She hasn’t seen this one before, and it’s a true joy to watch her experience some of the insane visual effects for the first time. She laughs and writhes.
At Day’s suggestion, I drop all thoughts about the plot. I study the VR holes. I watch how Max Renn is transformed by his new world, how he gazes at the abyss of his TV, and how excited he is when his body opens up for the first time. Charlotte points out that so many of Cronenberg’s movies are about a person who thinks they’re extreme but eventually find someone much more hardcore than themselves. They follow down this path of extremity to death or transcendence. Sometimes they act out of joy, sometimes out of fear, but most of the time, they’re driven forward by a stoic resolve: things have to change; they don’t know or care why. They’ll have time later on to figure that out.
We get to the end of the film.
After eliminating the executives responsible for the titular Videodrome, Max is informed he has to take one last step. Nicki Brand, played by Debbie Harry, appears on TV and says, “You’ve gone as far as you can with the way things are now.” And I feel a tug. As he’s learned to embrace the transmogrification of the body, Max’s body has shifted and grown, but now he has to completely leave it behind.
“In order for the new flesh to live, the old flesh must die.”
Renn puts the gun — that is now his hand — to his head. “Long live the new flesh.” Gunshot. Credits.
I tell Charlotte about the time my ex and I watched Videodrome together. How we had a weird conversation because though we both loved it, she found it disturbing — a cautionary tale. I found it gross but gorgeous.
Later that night, Charlotte shows me how to do my makeup. I cry in her arms.
All My Homies Love Cronenberg
That was Tuesday. Today is Wednesday. I’m thankful for my trans friends during this deeply confusing and changing time of my life. I’m thankful we have a filmmaker that understands transformation so well. He’s working on an upcoming film called The Shrouds. I hope we can all see it together.
What I’ve learned this week — from Meg, Emerson, Charlotte, Day, the hivemind that watched Crash, and from the man himself — is that the trans experience is a deeply human one. We reject nature, all of us. Sure, taking hormones isn’t natural, but watching a film isn’t natural, living in a concrete city isn’t natural, and kneeling at an altar, least of all. The biblical Ten Commandments are a defiance of nature, an attempt to quell our natural impulses. So is the government. We live in constructed domiciles under constructed skies. And look at all the beauty we are!
When you look around, do you look at what nature created, or at what you created yourself? To be trans is to understand deeply, as Cronenberg does, that our bodies aren’t just houses for the soul; they are the houses that are the souls themself. This is why, I think, we love him. Though he sometimes scares us, he is not scared of the body’s evolution. Cronenberg is terrified, celebratory, and extremely conscious of the fact that every last one of us has a body.
And what is more trans than knowing that, for every second of your life, for better or worse, you will always have, until you leave this earth, a body?
Editorials
The Halloween Franchise Peaked With H20 Here’s Why

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.
Editorials
Remove Spook From Your Vocabulary Today

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.