Editorials
What If…? Your Favorite Final Girls Became Final Boys?
So, in the spirit of this whimsical month celebrating all things Other, it’s time to set the seriousness aside and crank up the sass like you’re slinging memes on Gay Twitter™. Let’s reimagine history and rewrite horror as if the Gay Agenda won the culture wars of yesteryear – and poke a little fun at ourselves in the process. Here’s what could have gone down if your favorite Final Girls were a little more sapphic or swapped out with a Final Gay. If we can’t go to our local AMC to watch a gay couple terrorized by Mask 4 Mask Strangers in a shitty reboot trilogy, we’ll write it ourselves!

Pride is a celebration, and chances are you or someone you know has enjoyed a night of revelry in its name. Sex, drugs, and an ambiguous “I’ll be right back” as your friend heads to an undisclosed location are par for the course and, according to Scream horror buff Randy Meeks, are also the exact reasons you’ll meet your gruesome end. The Rules of Horror – penned for the screen by Kevin Williamson – state that committing any of these cardinal sins will effectively ruin your chances of being canonized as the Final Girl – a term coined in 1992 by professor Carol J. Clover and one you’re undoubtedly familiar with if you’ve found your way to Horror Press. Mere minutes after Randy’s ominous lecture, however, heroine Sidney Prescott takes a bold step toward dismantling these virginal tropes against the patriarchal villains of slasher lore and does the unthinkable: She bangs her boyfriend. Her character created a ripple effect in the genre, evolving the archetype of the Final Girl into something much fiercer and well beyond the decades-long puritanical pearl-clutching writers and directors insisted these women should embody. This Darwinistic trial-by-slasher, which changed what it meant to be a badass female protagonist, begs the question:
Where are the modern incarnations of a Final Boy, or more appropriately, a Final Gay?
While something of a rarity in the genre, horror has had a handful of notable Final Boys, from the legendary Ash Williams of Evil Dead to little Tommy Jarvis and an older Tommy Doyle of F13: The Final Chapter and Halloween: The Curse of Michael Myers, respectively, and even Chris Washington in the subversive Get Out. Whereas Final Girls level up beyond the scantily clad lambs of the male gaze, these Final Boys tend to stay in their lane and complete their hero’s journey into that of a fully realized, stereotypical man. Whether that means they become a white knight or something toxically XY depends on the film. Even when the male lead presents as hysterical – a trait history has seen fit to deem outspoken women – until it’s too late, which typically occurs within the confines of the psychological or supernatural subgenres, they tend to “man up” as it were and sacrifice themselves for their loved ones. Unless you’re watching Hostel, we rarely see these Final Boys degraded to nothing more than slabs of meat, and heaven forbid any of them are homosexual or something altogether different.
If Final Boys are less prevalent than their female counterparts and amount to not much more than fulfilling gender roles when they do appear, you’d be hard-pressed to name more than a few instances of an LGBTQ+ version. You have the problematically depicted and conflicted Jesse of A Nightmare on Elm Street 2 and a small number of queer horror films made by queer creators like Knife + Heart and Death Drop Gorgeous, but otherwise, Pride in horror seems to be relocated to streaming in 2024. It’s terrific that we have shows like Chucky and Interview with the Vampire. Netflix’s Fear Street trilogy was a breath of fresh air when it slashed its way onto our screens during the summer of 2021, but it’s easier for the higher-ups to approve an atypical script when it can get lost in the shuffle of streaming. It’s well known that Gen Z doesn’t go to the movie theater, though they’ll eat up their alternative content from the couch. No one in Hollywood is taking any chances blowing up their four-quadrant summer blockbuster with a lead who kicks up his feet with a vodka soda and the “Chromatica Ball” tour film after saving the world.
So, in the spirit of this whimsical month celebrating all things Other, it’s time to set the seriousness aside and crank up the sass like you’re slinging memes on Gay Twitter™. Let’s reimagine history and rewrite horror as if the Gay Agenda won the culture wars of yesteryear – and poke a little fun at ourselves in the process. Here’s what could have gone down if your favorite Final Girls were a little more sapphic or swapped out with a Final Gay. If we can’t go to our local AMC to watch a gay couple terrorized by Mask 4 Mask Strangers in a shitty reboot trilogy, we’ll write it ourselves!
Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Next Generation
This darkly comedic sequel follows in the absurd footsteps of the second film in the franchise and features a Leatherface who exists solely in drag. Keep backwoods McConaughey and Renée Zellweger, but add a couple of drag queens to the cast, and you’d get a horror version of HBO’s We’re Here. Instead of stopping ole Leather n’ Lace, we’d see Renée and her drag crew help him find self-acceptance and a new chosen family, thus leaving the murder and mayhem behind – and perhaps eventually becoming America’s Next Drag Superstar. Aww!
The Craft
I idolize Fairuza Balk as much as the next Witch of WeHo, but if you replaced one of the film’s wiccan wonders with a genderfluid brujo, they’d run that school and, eventually, the world. When someone is so sure of themselves at such a young age, they are unstoppable, and there’s no time for petty revenge when the bottom line is at stake. Moving on up from Los Angeles goth to bitchy Bitcoin billionaire, this witch would harness the power of Menon for everything it’s worth.
Scream
Who needs Billy & Stu fanfic when you’ve got a gay male Sidney Prescott (no name change necessary) pining over the deadly duo? If horror’s new age It Girl defied expectations, Gay Sid would fall into every trope and trap faster than Cindy Campbell of Scary Movie. Sis would ignore every red flag that Billy’s sinister eyes and dreamboat hair sashay his way and break every one of Randy’s Rules before Miss Barrymore popped a single kernel of corn. There’s no doubt Gay Sid’s poor choices would have resulted in a Ghostface success story, but at least we’d have seen someone match bestie Tatum’s extreme levels of shade.
Twilight
It barely constitutes as horror, sure, but imagine the fun we’d all have if you took this poorly-written love triangle and remade it in the image of Luca Guadagnino’s Challengers. Bella pitting her two little monsters against each other as they fight – and kiss – for her affection sells itself, and skin that only sparkles in the sunlight is as clear a metaphor for bisexuality as I’ve ever seen. I’d pay good money to hear Kristen Stewart sneer, “I’m taking such good care of my little alt-bois.”
Orphan
If you don’t know the twist of this dark horse classic, turn back now. Okay, now imagine if, instead of being an adult woman, Esther was an older twink with a magnificent skincare routine, an Ozempic prescription, and enough filler to resurrect the Titanic. The culture would never be the same.
The Conjuring
I know I’ve been playfully roasting the community during these what-ifs, but what if James Wan’s family-oriented haunted house classic, The Conjuring featured a non-traditional family unit instead? When you break it down, the franchise ultimately promotes a wholesome message about love and the ties that bind, and it would be rainbow-heartening to watch a queer-led family face the paranormal odds together. Plus, those screams would be wild.
It Follows
As a metaphor for the intricacies of sex and the tangled web it weaves, It Follows is a masterful slow-burn terror. Set it in the gay community, however, and you’ve got a farcical version of Cruising set to a killer synthy soundtrack. Every pun would be intentional as we scream, “Don’t go in there!” at our queer family as they bob and weave through crowded bars and dimly lit dalliances. Who doesn’t like a genre mashup?
Mother!
Darren Aronofsky’s biblical allegory is a nail-biting whirlwind seen through the destruction of a deceptively happy married couple and their perfect home. The term “U-Hauling” jokingly refers to the speed at which lesbian couples take the next step and move in together at a moment’s notice. Meld these two ideas together, and you get a social commentary on the systematic dismantling of the white-picket idealism two women seek out without the interference of men. Life’s a cycle, and the U-Haul runs on a loop.
Happy Death Day
Using an LGBTQ+ ensemble cast, set this time loop slasher during a Pride parade. Boom. Jessica Roth can come too.
Midsommar
When a gay man reaches thirty, he is effectively deceased. When a twenty-something gay man gets married and enters into a life of suburban heteronormativity, it’s called early retirement. Enter Danny, a disillusioned and newly married party boy ready to leave his days in the big city behind and consent to a life of apple picking and candle making. Life in this idyllic upstate New York community is not as it seems…
Crawl
Gays tend to be overanalytical and prone to flight over fight. So when a Category 5 hurricane hits Florida and traps college swimmer Haley in the crawlspace of her father’s home as she searches for him during the storm, you had better believe the circumstances would be different if she were a gay man. Instead of being swarmed by alligators, he’d be breast-stroking his way across state lines and out of harm’s way. What are you doing in Florida, of all places, during Pride, anyway? At least hit up Miami and Disney on your way out.
Pearl
The titular unhinged icon will stop at nothing to be a star, but what if we replaced her with the ubiquitous chronically online Gay Intern? From star to stan, this ferocious iteration of Ti West’s muse will let the world know exactly which pop divas are the fairest of them all. You think this is a joke, but offend the Barbz or Swifities, and you’ll end up doxxed, delirious, or dead (allegedly).
I don’t know if Carol J. Clover ever expected her work to connect with such a ridiculous article, but we all know the Final Girl ran so that the Final Gay could prance. I’ve frequently lamented the lack of LGBTQ+ protagonists in mainstream media, and if there were ever a genre for us to call home, it’s horror. There are plenty of female-driven stories to tell, but people of all gender identities and sexual orientations deserve a seat at the table, too. So what gives, Hollywood?
P.S. I’m available to write that queer Happy Death Day sequel.
Editorials
The Evolution of Black Religion & Spirituality in Horror

Jobs for Black actors were scarce in the early days of Hollywood, but that didn’t mean there weren’t Black roles in the films being made. The silver screen had a ceiling for Black actors but not for our culture. White audiences got a gag out of the Black caricatures that white actors portrayed whilst the dehumanizing regurgitation of our culture was used for plot development. Thus, one of the very first Black tropes was born: the magical negro. The early media depictions of Black spirituality were a tool to villainize the community off-screen. Some could say we’ve come a long way since then. I would say we still have a ways to go. The progress is still worth reflecting on, though.
Christianity is one of the largest faiths practiced in the Black American community. But before the missionaries spread the good Lord’s word, most enslaved people aligned with West African religious practices: using herbs, charms, and other metaphysical tools. Tituba, an enslaved Afro-Caribbean woman, was one of the first women accused of witchcraft during the Salem Witch Trials— except they identified it as ‘hoodoo’ or Vodou. It was later demonized as the seed that sprouted the uprising of enslaved Haitian people. With these stepping stones (and American imperialism in Haiti), white screenwriters had fuel for a genre on the rise: horror.
White Zombie (1932) is one of the earliest examples of Vodou in horror and, considerably, the first zombie movie. It isn’t the most harmful, though. Black Moon (1934) made history for a few reasons: being violently racist and starring the first Black American actress to sign a film contract. There’s too much irony in that.
The depiction of voodoo in Black Moon, like many other common Black tropes, reinforces black inferiority to their oppressors and makes a monster out of Black men. It wasn’t until 1941 that audiences saw an authentic portrayal of a different Black religion: Christianity. The Blood of Jesus (dir. Spencer Williams) stars an all-black cast and follows a woman on her journey between heaven and hell. It was a turning point for Black cinema as a whole.
Narratives such as this, Def By Temptation (1990), and, most recently, The Deliverance (2024) depict the liberation that Black Christians often find in their religion. They draw a direct connection between identity and virtue. Ganja & Hess (1973), however, takes a different approach. Director Bill Gunn doesn’t offer the Christian God as an entity of power capable of salvation. The ending is representative of the religious guilt that weighted Hess Green (played by Duane Jones). Neither vampirism nor religion can save him from the trauma he’s running from.
Almost any Black film that I’ve seen, Tyler Perry included, involved Christianity to some extent. 2023 was the first time I saw a Black religious practice given proper respect on screen. Stay with me here– The Exorcist: Believer (dir. David Gordon Green). Rarely have I seen a positive opinion on this extension of the franchise. Unfortunately, DGG left a bad taste in horror fans’ mouths with his Halloween films. I don’t think it’s so much of his style rather than the loyalty that fans have for these franchises. They have high expectations that very few people can meet. I admired the way he represented the beauty of Haitian culture, though. Particularly, hoodoo was an integral part of the story in a way I haven’t seen in mainstream horror. It wasn’t evil nor was it dramatic. The rootwork healer isn’t crushing bones or conducting blood sacrifices. Its authenticity was commendable compared to the genre’s predecessors that have demonized this very spiritual work for decades.
The late, great Tony Todd added to the list of authentic Black spiritual horror films this past year with The Activated Man (dir. Nicholas Gyeney). Todd stars as a lightworker, named Jeffrey Bowman, who helps the main character defeat an evil, fedora-sporting spirit. He’s dripped out with a rose quartz bracelet and a mala necklace. Though the movie suffers in its respective areas, it’s a tick in the timeline. It’s one of the few times that a Black character has helped to defeat evil with a spiritual practice and faith that isn’t Christianity. Like The Exorcist: Believer, its depiction of Bowman isn’t an unstable practitioner leading with dramatics. It’s easy to get lost in the fine details– some movies won’t live up to our expectations. However, even the most disappointing watch can shift the trajectory of cinema. Where Black characters were once monolithic religious apostles, modern cinema is more willing to diversify Black characters beyond those tired tropes.
Editorials
The Art of Politicizing a Dumb Killer Clown Movie

“Horror is not political” is a recycled firestorm on the internet. The smoke smells the same as it did before, the burn isn’t that bright, and the outcome is always the same: we’ve done this dance before, and we will do it again.
Damien Leone has joined the club of Joe Bob Briggs and dozens of others who have voiced that very hollow opinion that “Horror is not political”. Because I do, I think above all else, above the very clear negotiation with the part of his audience who got angry, the very clear fear of backlash for actor David Howard Thorton’s admonitions of the current Trump administration and his support for the LGBTQ+ community, is…
Hollowness.
“Horror is not political” is not an opinion.
It’s an absence of opinion. It’s a platitude; it’s meant to appease people. It’s a free dessert for the person raging in the restaurant that their soup was cold and that they won’t stand for it. It’s bargaining.
Are the Terrifier films Political?
Hopefully I never have to bring up politics publicly ever again but this desperately needed to be said on behalf of the Terrifier franchise 🙏 pic.twitter.com/b7soIj9P33
— Damien Leone (@damienleone) February 3, 2025
Mind you, this is not a call-out of those people angry at the concept of political horror, and I doubt you could call it a call-in post either; chances are you’re not reading this if you feel that so strongly. The goal is to do what I always do: talk about movies and what they mean, and this current firestorm is a very convenient way of doing that. It’s a well-timed way to toast my analytical marshmallow (promise, that’s the last fire metaphor).
So, what are the politics of the Terrifier films that Damien Leone wants to put away while the irate hotel guests are here? The Terrifier movies are political beasts by their nature, and their killer, the beloved jewel of the Terrifier franchise Art the Clown, is just as political as his actor’s commentary on current-day America. Because through and through, Art the Clown is a monster carrying with him the shadow of sexual violence, a harbinger of how truly despicable that kind of violence is, and shows how the world is not set up to help its victims.
And Leone has said as much to support that.
After all, he believes he’s tackled sexual violence quite well in the films. In an interview with Rue Morgue, he goes on to elaborate why he believes just that:
“I think I’m just so comfortable [tackling sexual violence] because I was raised by all women that I don’t think about those things when I’m doing it. […] I’m not trying to offend, so there’s really nothing I’m not afraid to show. There’s things I won’t show; There’s lines that I try not to cross, believe it or not. No matter how grotesque and intense these scenes get, I always keep it in the back of my head like, ‘How far can we push it [..]?’
And I find it fascinating, because no matter how much negative space Leone leaves in terms of explicit sexual abuse on Art the Clown’s part, that negative space speaks just as loudly as if it was actually on screen.
The Politics of Clownery
On a meta-textual level, the extremity, the explosive and sensationalized nature of violence in the Terrifier films, the draw that most people go to see at the theatre, puts sexual violence on a pedestal of shame. It makes it untouchable. Horror is the genre that explores the violation of bodily autonomy, the violation of human life, most freely. In making a spectacle of the wildest and most nauseating kills most filmgoers will ever see, turning the killer into a Bugs Bunny-esque monster that’s always pushing the envelope alongside the filmmaker orchestrating him, and then setting boundaries on what Art won’t do, Leone has made a political statement about the truly reprehensible nature of sexual violence.
Art the Clown is bad, but he’s a surreal type of evil. He is jokes and gaffs at the expense of chainsawing couples and bashing people with spiked bats, not the mutants from The Hills Have Eyes, or the hallway scene from Irreversible. He is not the sobering, disgusting kind of evil most people run into in the real world. He is evil incarnate, sans sexual violence. Because if it’s too far for Art, it has to be a special kind of unthinkably cruel.
On a textual level, I think the enduring and surreal violence Sienna and Jonathan endure throughout the series is a perfect metaphor for continuing through life after an assault of that magnitude and cruelty. The aftershocks of violence that permeate your whole being, long after society expects you to have just “gotten over it”. To walk through life, afflicted by paranoia, self-doubt, and self-hatred. To navigate being around other people after having experienced that, and more importantly, living without justice for the crimes done to you, is unthinkable.
True Crime and Horror Collide
And the way that the Terrifier franchise mocks a true crime culture that trivializes that suffering, something a lot of horror fans have to decry as the space tries to worm into the horror genre at large, gives another layer of credence and reality to the misery of Arts victims. Victims who have to see their pain commodified and treated as a tool, something many victims of sexual assault themselves have been forced through thanks to true crime.
And despite each film seeming to end off worse than the last, Leone highlights the grace of a victim escaping that pain and trauma by giving Sienna the means to fight back. Supernaturally granted or otherwise, it is a perfect encapsulation of victims’ desires to overcome seemingly unending suffering, that will to live, to thrive, that burns bright in all victims. It’s a glimmer of hope in a mostly hopeless franchise, and it serves as a mirror to the light at the end of the tunnel many sexual assault victims strive to reach.
At the end of the day, artists don’t really get to buy in or buy out of how political their art is, the same way you don’t get to buy in or buy out of living in a political system. Much like Art’s random and unpredictable violence, it sort of just happens to you. It happens whether it’s the high concept art film horror, or what most people see as a bog-standard dumb killer clown movie. But to embrace that political nature is one of the most important things you can do as an artist.
To leave that meaning behind, to try and void art of the political messaging people might find in it, is to do a great disservice to the people who found comfort and joy in that message. Because once that vessel has been emptied of the love people can find in it, the hate people had isn’t going to stay inside of it for long.
That hollowed art won’t be overflowing with a new audience of people. It will simply be empty.