When looking for queer representation in film, we’re usually looking for ones that are unabashedly queer in their storytelling, movies that are prideful of their queer identity. Today, we’re not discussing one of those films. Instead, I want to look at a film that was trying so hard not to be queer that it became even more queer. A film that’s been reclaimed by the community it didn’t want to be a part of. Am I losing you already? This may not make sense at the moment, but The Covenant is quite the conundrum with lots to talk about.

For those unaware, The Covenant is a 2006 film directed by Renny Harlin (A Nightmare on Elm Street 4, Deep Blue Sea) following a coven of 4 teenage boys with supernatural witch powers. When insidious events occur following the arrival of a mysterious new student, the Sons of Ipswich (not a boy band) must unravel the secrets of their New England town and their dangerous powers before the friend group is destroyed. Well, that’s the straight synopsis. Reading with a queer lens, the film is about a hyper-masculine guy battling to keep his queerness (powers) in check, only to be tempted by the unabashedly queer who wants to bone and steal his powers. By objective film standards, it’s not a good movie suffering from a fan-fiction caliber screenplay and an over-reliance on CGI. But I’m not here to review the film critically, but rather to pose analytical questions about the intentions behind this film being created, and if my queer theories make the film worthy of discussion at all.

A Movie With Foggy Intentions

Just by reading the synopsis and looking at a few screengrabs, the inspirations behind The Covenant are quite obvious. The film presents itself as the love child of The Craft and The Lost Boys, which can already lead to assumptions about the film. Aside from the light horror elements and sleek aesthetic, The Craft and The Lost Boys share DNA in another major category: queer subtext. The biggest question behind The Covenant getting made is who saw those 2 films as inspiration and thought, “Let’s make that, but straight and cool”. 

Rather than target the established audiences of those films (women and the queer community), The Covenant insists on being a badass witch movie that Chris and the boys will chest bump over, as evident by the aggressive metal music and womanizing. There’s an argument that the film, based on the cast of muscular men, was aimed toward the young girls demographic. Aside from the brief swim team practice scenes and a paper-thin love story, nothing about the film would seem appealing to female audiences. Instead, The Covenant squanders a golden opportunity to make a film for the community of queer boys who wished they were witches and will lust over the smooth, shiny cast of hunks. Rather than make the subtext of The Lost Boys actual text, the film takes away the text altogether. Well, it tries to anyway.

Can’t Hide What’s Inside

Despite admitting the film is not good and being annoyed by its inception, there’s something about The Covenant I can’t help but love. The magic of camp is that it comes in two different flavors: intentional camp that tends to be over-the-top and camp that is blissfully unaware of itself. The Covenant falls firmly in the latter category, as this film is 100% trying to be serious while failing spectacularly. The stakes are hollow, the dialogue is awful, and Sebastian Stan is a whole different movie. All of the calculated missteps culminate in a delicious campy stew of hilarity, but its campiness only scratches the surface of the queerness brewing underneath.

The Covenant is a fascinating entry to the queer horror canon in its insistence on not being queer, despite the very obvious queer metaphors presented throughout the film. Referred to simply as The Power, the magical abilities of the sexy covenant boys can easily be read as a general queer identity. The film establishes The Power has been around for centuries, but sworn to secrecy. Hiding queer feelings would make sense for these old-money families to maintain their status. Then the film takes it a step further, linking the magic abilities to the characters’ health stating that using the powers takes years off their lives and becomes more addictive the more they use it. So not only do we have the social implications of being queer, but now we have the standard AIDS allegory to demonize queers and addicts. And of course, the main villain is portrayed as the flamboyant queer with a crush on the protagonist, willing to kill for the Gay Agenda.

By the points listed above, the queer theory of this film would be anti-queer as the film ends with the villain being slain and the Sons of Ipswich presumably keeping their queer secrets until another threat comes along. This puts me in a moral dilemma. Do we condemn Harlin & writer J.S. Cardone for recognizing the queer tropes, but choosing to ignore them, resulting in a queer-baiting effect? Or do we give them the benefit of the doubt that they were blissfully unaware in their pursuit of making a badass witch movie? It’s hard to say when the film uses distinct language like “it’s seductive” and “lust for power” when describing the magical abilities while having an absurd amount of homoerotic tension between Caleb and Chase.

However, this ambiguity allowed the film to take on an identity of its own apart from the creators’ intention. The Covenant is as confused as the queer audience looking to see themselves in a film. The only way the film takes on a positive queer reading is if you’re rooting for the villain, and I’m not going to lie to you: I’m totally on Team Chase. The man is a bisexual menace who creates tension with the Sons of Ipswich while trying to steal their girlfriends, which is queer chaos at its finest. And perhaps the most poignant thing the film has to offer is the way Chase’s backstory is presented, discovering his powers without close friends around him for support. With all the silliness within The Covenant, the film gives surprising empathy to Chase with the line, “do you know what it felt like growing up not knowing what this is?”. From then on, I’m rooting for Chase to take everyone’s powers. Even though Chase isn’t the most positive queer representation, he’s the only character in the film that embraces who he truly is. 

Boys Will Be Witchy Boys

Once again, The Covenant is not a good film. Ignoring the oddly serious tone, wooden acting, lackluster plot, and many other factors, I believe the main fault of this film is not embracing its identity as a campy queer send-up of the films it’s trying to defy. Yet, The Covenant, still feeling queer despite everything about it trying not to be, ends up being the most queer aspect of the film. In addition to the sexy speedos, homoerotic games of foosball, and all the boys having conversations way too close to each other’s faces. All this to say, there is a lot of fun in this silly witch movie if you’re willing to embrace its true identity. The queer community reclaiming The Covenant out of spite would be the most badass aspect of a film that is trying oh so hard to be straight.