Queer.Horror.Movies

The curated portfolio of film journalist Joe Lipsett

Archives for June 2019

Queer Horror Creator Showcase: DRW Phillips, Crafting Alt Posters and Making Space For New Voices

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Name: DRW Phillips

Age: 23

Birth Place: Indianapolis, IN

Sexuality: Pansexual

Notable films: Posters Lazarus, Bliss, Long Lost 

When did you know you were queer? When did you come out?

DRW: I knew that I was trans from as far back as elementary school, but it was also something that I repressed for years. In the eighth grade I knew that I was, at the very least, bisexual (shout out to Europe’s “Final Countdown” video for helping me get there) and I attempted to come out as bi to one of my closest friends. It backfired and my entire friend group turned into my tormentors. I dove back into the closet through high school and wasn’t able to come out and explore my sexuality until college.

It wasn’t until the unending terror of the 2016 election that I finally came out as transgender. I was no longer in a place where I was willing to be intimidated anymore.

You’ve made quite a name for yourself making “alt” posters for famous films. How did that begin?

DRW: I did a lot of loose design in high school and college, little things for the music scene or classmates’ films. At the end of 2017 I decided that this was something I wanted to pursue seriously and planned an entire year of doing one poster design for a film a day. I’d been really taken by artists like Scott Saslow who had done similar projects before and loved the variety a project like this demanded.

I did over 365 posters on my Instagram account in 2018 and have been fortunate enough to begin to turn that into a full time career as a designer. Since then I still make room for self initiated pieces in between my official projects to keep trying new styles and adding more tools to my belt.

DRW’s alt poster for Cruising

You have created posters for all different kinds of films, but you seem most prolific in the horror genre.  What attracts you to those projects? 

DRW:  I’m a big cinephile, but my biggest love will always be for horror films. It’s one of the most potent genres in the world that allows filmmakers and artists alike to take creative leaps that wouldn’t be allowed anywhere else. Exploring films like The Fog, Manhunter, The Devils, and even Zulawski’s Possession allowed me to be as creative and experimental as possible in a way that would still properly serve the films I was paying homage to.

A majority of the artists that I look up to are those that operate within the horror and genre space. Jay Shaw, Graham Humphreys, Stephen Sayadian, Chris Garofalo, and others have all made indelible marks on myself and horror fans around the world through their art. On top of that, the horror community is one of the strongest and most supportive in the world.

As a producer on the queer horror podcast Dead for Filth, I became connected to that community and have seen first hand how spectacular and unique it is. People are so excited to share their love for these movies in a way no other genre or fandom can replicate. It’s always an honor for me to be asked to contribute to a horror film.

What films (queer or not) have made a significant impact on you and your work? In what way?

DRW: Luis Buñuel’s The Phantom of Liberty changed my life. It’s a surrealist comedy from 1974. It has no plot but it’s highly subversive and strange. The poster by my favorite artist in the world, René Ferracci, is outrageous and iconic. It’s a simple collage of a bright pink butt dressed as the Statue of Liberty with a wilting torch and standing on ostrich legs. It was used on the VHS and DVD and it just hit me like a ton of bricks the first time I saw it casually sitting on a shelf at the library. The movie and the poster together were like a 1-2 punch that completely threw me off my axis and set me on a new path. I now have that original poster framed above the desk where I work.

How progressive or welcoming is the industry for queer creators right now?

DRW: I’ve been rather fortunate within the horror and design communities to have found a great deal of acceptance. Most everyone I know within the horror space identifies within the LGBTQ spectrum in one way or another. The world of design is still predominantly white and male, but what matters most is the work and less who is behind it.

Along with the democratization of digital design tools, the space has started to open up to more diverse voices. We still have a long way to go in the entertainment industry as a whole, though, particularly for trans voices and creators.

That shouldn’t dismay anyone from wanting to step into the space, though. The only way we’ll be able to become as progressive and open as we need is to have as many people from different backgrounds and identities join and change the industry from within. The only people who can speak for us are ourselves.

DRW’s alt poster for Heathers

Do you believe that your sexuality informs your work? 

DRW: I do believe that my work is informed by my trans and queer identity. Creating any kind of art is an expression of a point of view. When I create a design, whether as a personal or commissioned project, it’ll always be simply an interpretation of a film or an album through my inherently queer, trans perspective. That’s something that cannot be separated from the work – just as it can’t be separated from who I am as a person or as an artist.

Do you subscribe to queer readings of your films?

DRW: I’m a big advocate of finding queer readings within traditionally “non-queer” media. There are simply too few stories out there detailing our perspective and identities that we still have to search for coded characters and narratives to fulfill our natural need to see ourselves affirmed within media.

As someone who identifies as a queer individual, I believe that everything I do is, in one way or another, queer and therefore a slightly transgressive act. It’s always a great compliment if others see that as well.

Have you interacted with many queer horror fans of your films? What has that experience been like?

DRW: Queer horror fans are the best people in the world. I am gobsmacked whenever I see or meet anyone within the queer horror space that owns piece of my work.

Someone recently had the artwork that I did inspired by John Carpenter’s The Fog made into their shower curtain. I do not have to words to express how crazy and amazing that is. That is the main audience I am looking to please.

DRW’s alt poster for The Exorcist

What’s next for you?

DRW: I have a few more official posters and a limited edition blu-ray coming out later this year that I can’t wait to share with the world. I hope to be able to continue making strange and subversive designs for some time.

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[Review] An Unsettling Premise Can’t Save ‘The Cleaning Lady’ From A Weak Script

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There’s an uncomfortable tension at work in The Cleaning Lady, Jon Knautz’s feature length adaptation of his short of the same name. It’s in the key art for the film (a woman wears a domestic maid’s uniform, bloody gloves and an uncanny-looking mask) and it’s baked into the premise, about the obsessive relationship that develops between Alice (Alexis Kendra, who also co-wrote the script), a successful, albeit flawed aesthetician and her disfigured cleaning woman, Shelly (Rachel Alig).

The Cleaning Lady is first and foremost a stalker film. Alice hires Shelly on the down low to privately clean her apartment, thereby allowing the meek, mysterious woman access to her home. Considering that the film opens with Shelly brewing a rat smoothie and feeding it to a chained woman in an abandoned shipping container, it’s immediately clear that Alice is making a mistake. And just in case it wasn’t obvious, Knautz includes a horror musical cue when Alice first stumbles upon Shelly cleaning her clogged shower drain.

Alice and Shelly are contrasted using straightforward visual cues: Alice is blonde and her apartment is bathed in a sunny yellow colour, whereas Shelly’s dark hair continually hangs in her face and her home is located off the beaten path in the woods. Alice is also pert and chipper, good at casual small talk and maintaining her physique with regular yoga classes. Shelly is barely verbal, going about her business quietly with her head down. It’s only when Alice hires and then befriends Shelly that the latter begins to open up; alas, it simultaneously initiates her unhealthy obsession with Alice’s seemingly perfect life.

The fact that Alice’s “perfection” is a facade isn’t evident to Shelly, who idolizes her new employer. The reality is that Alice is a slave to her vices, which range from small – her inability to quit smoking – to large – carrying on an affair with a married man, Michael (Stelio Savante). The discovery that Alice isn’t living up to Shelly’s expectations push the cleaning woman over the edge and, naturally, violence follows.

Artificiality as a “cover up” is an obvious, but effective metaphor for both Alice and Shelly. Alice only looks put together because she has the proper make-up, clothes and body, whereas Shelly’s refusal to play dress up for the world – opting for ball caps, no make-up and baggy clothes – immediately distinguish her as an outsider.

And therein lies the problem. Anything interesting that The Cleaning Lady has to say about living fake lives, dressing to pass, or using a make-over as cover-up (literally and figuratively) is undone by a script that favours exploitation and titillation over genuine human emotion.

Not unlike Blumhouse’s recent thriller Ma, The Cleaning Lady wants to explore how childhood trauma contributes to the development of adult victimizers. In this case, sporadic flashbacks introduce a young Shelly (Mykayla Sohn), a minor being sexually exploited by her mother, pimped out to random men in exchange for money. These glimpses into the past have the same sweaty, grimy sheen as the flashbacks in Black Xmas, and young Shelly’s infantile interest in dolls is nicely juxtaposed by the decrepitness of the rest of the house and the leering, greasy pedophiles. It’s all suitably icky.

It’s also on-the-nose obvious; the flashbacks serve as a narrative shorthand to “explain” adult Shelly’s psychosis. But, while it is not uncommon in horror to assign a childhood trauma to villains, here it is both too fleeting and too simplistic. The Cleaning Lady lacks finesse, resulting in a series of clunky flashbacks that trade in manipulative exploitation and seemingly exist to pay-off the film’s obvious conclusion.

Despite the clumsy use of overly simplistic pop psychology to explain Shelly’s motivation, The Cleaning Lady does have a number of elements worth recommending. The performances by both lead actresses are solid and Knautz makes good use of a few key locations to maintain a claustrophobic feel as Shelly slowly collapses the boundaries between her and her prey. There are several set pieces that really connect, the creepiest of which is a late night sojourn by Shelly into Alice’s bedroom to make a latex mask of Alice’s “perfect” visage. It’s deeply unsettling, and makes for a fascinating mirroring effect when the prosthetic becomes Shelly’s trademark mask.

Speaking of make-up, the effects are a bit of a mixed bag: for every effect that works (Shelly’s burns), there’s another that doesn’t quite hit the mark (a torture scene involving acid is particularly unconvincing). This is forgivable, however, considering that budget undoubtedly played a factor.

Unfortunately the film is undone by its undercooked script. In addition to the explanation for Shelly’s mental state, there’s an abrupt narrative shift in the last act that derails the film’s focus by thrusting a heretofore peripheral character into the spotlight. It simply does not work and the poorly executed creative decision comes off as a cheap (and predictable) attempt to inject tension (and increase the body count), but actually just muddles the narrative at a time when it should be crescendoing. It’s an unfortunate development that negatively impacts the film’s ending and the film would have been better off ironing it out of the script early on.

The Bottom Line: The Cleaning Lady has strong lead performances, a creepy premise and a few unsettling set pieces, but it is undone by poor script decisions, particularly the cheap reliance on exploitative flashbacks. 2.5/5

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l92FHpCtysU

Queer Horror Director Showcase: BJ Colangelo, Growing Up In The Public Eye and the Cleveland Horror Scene

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Name: BJ Colangelo

Age: 29

Birth Place: Winthrop Harbor, IL

Sexuality: Queer/Gay

Notable films: Margaret (2016), Powerbomb (2018), Deathcember (2019), Labrys (2019)

When did you know you were queer? When did you come out?

BJ Colangelo: The truth is that I knew when I was about five-years-old. I had fallen in love (the way only a kindergartener can) with a girl in my class. We kissed on the playground and when the teacher told our parents, she was sent away to Catholic School. (She IS gay, by the way; we reconnected in College)

However, I was raised in a community with very well known parents (my dad was a politician). We were always in the public eye and I was afraid that my sexuality was going to ruin my father’s career, so I desperately tried to convince myself that I wasn’t gay. I had relationships with women in private all throughout my life, but it wasn’t until my college years that I tip-toed out of the closet and just recently finally began to publicly live my truth. There is no wrong way for someone to come to terms with their sexuality.

In the last five or so years, you’ve really become a bit of a multi-hyphenate (writer, actor, director, producer). How did you get into filmmaking?

BJC: Filmmaking is something that I never knew that I had the option to pursue. As a woman, I was socially conditioned to believe that filmmaking wasn’t meant for someone like me. It wasn’t until I met my Powerbomb co-director, Zach Shildwachter, that someone finally told me, “there’s no reason you can’t make movies. Do it.”

I know you’ve branched out with Powerbomb most recently, but most of your filmmaking career is tied to horror. What is it about horror that keeps you coming back?

BJC:  Horror has always been my lifeblood for as long as I can remember. I spent a decade analyzing and critiquing horror films, and it’s where my brain likes to live. Powerbomb is more of a character study/thriller, but there are elements of horror littered throughout. Fear is a universal emotion, but what makes us afraid is different for every person. I’m fascinated by figuring out what impacts us as a whole, and how can I bring that to screen.

What films (queer or not) have made a significant impact on you and your work? In what way?

BJC: I have worshipped at the altar of John Waters for as long as I can remember. His punk-rock/DIY/take no shit attitude in all of his films is awe-inspiring. Waters tells stories that he wants to tell, he tells them in his way, and never sacrifices his creativity or style in the process. He casts “non-traditional” actors and doesn’t give a single fuck what anyone thinks of him. If I can capture even a fraction of that energy, I’ll consider my career a success.

“They Used To Laugh and Call Him Names” from Deathcember

You’re working out of Cleveland, which is rare compared to a lot of other directors situated in Hollywood. Does that present its own challenges? How progressive or welcoming is the industry (Cleveland or more broadly speaking) for queer creators right now?

BJC:  Working in Cleveland has its benefits because it is exponentially cheaper to work here than anywhere else. Cost of living is laughably affordable compared to places like New York or Los Angeles. Rental fees, props, locations, costumes, craft services, etc…all of these things can be done on a shoestring budget.

As far as the progressive/welcoming environment…it really depends. Ohio is still a swing state and still has a Republican controlled congress. There aren’t statewide protections for LGBTQ+ folk and although Cleveland is one of the progressive bubbles in the state…it’s still Ohio. Less than three months after shooting a queer horror short film at a bar where I work, we were harassed by a religious right extremist group in the parking lot. I’ve been fortunate to find a community of creatives that I can depend on and come from affirming belief systems, and I refuse to let them go.

Several of your shorts have strong feminist and socially progressive themes. Do you believe that your sexuality informs your films? 

BJC: It absolutely informs my films. I’ve spent a lifetime watching films where I didn’t feel seen or they were told from a perspective that I’ve never experienced. The films I make are the stories I wish I had access to when I was younger.

Do you subscribe to queer readings of your films?

BJC: Absolutely. All of my films have queer themes, even the ones that aren’t overtly queer.

Have you interacted with many queer horror fans of your films? What has that experience been like?

BJC: I have! It’s always exciting to listen to people try and draw metaphors from my work to their own lived experiences. The greatest compliment, however, is when a queer actor gets to play a queer character and thanks me for allowing them to play a character they actually identify with. That always makes me feel good.

Labrys

You’re a very busy woman – you’re contributing a segment to the holiday anthology Deathcember and you’re shopping a mysterious queer horror short to festivals. What can you tell me about these projects?

BJC: I first and foremost have to thank Chelsea Stardust (All That We Destroy, Satanic Panic) for recommending Zach and I to the producers of Deathcember. We’re the only Midwest contributors of the American-based directors, and we shot our segment outdoors in 21-degree weather during an Ohio winter. Without giving away the plot, the title is “They Used To Laugh and Call Him Names.” I think that does a pretty good job at giving audiences an idea of what topic we’re tackling.

As far as my horror short, it’s called Labrys and it’s about a woman on her first date with another woman, and her journey to come to terms with who…and what she is. It was shot on a shoe-string budget, but I’m extremely proud of it. It’s Carrie meets X-Men on a lesbian first date.

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Queer Horror Director Showcase: Christopher Landon, Two Johns and Misunderstood Characters

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Name: Christopher Landon

Age: 44

Birth Place: Los Angeles, CA

Sexuality: Gay

Notable films: Paranormal Activity: The Marked Ones (2014), Scout’s Guide to the Apocalypse (2015), Happy Death Day 2U (2017), Happy Death Day 2U (2019)

When did you know you were queer? When did you come out?

Christopher Landon: I knew I was different from an early age. Like a lot of queer little boys, I loved my sister’s Barbie dolls, I loved movies like Mommie Dearest and Big Business. I had boy-crushes in high school but I dismissed them as “a phase.” I finally came out when I was 22 after meeting my first boyfriend. I didn’t want to lead a double-life so I just did a big-ass coming out tour and told everyone in my orbit within about a week’s time. LOL.

How did you get into filmmaking?

CL: I have always been obsessed with movies. Especially horror. I made short films as a kid and studied film in college. I took an internship at Disney when I was about 18 and that’s where I really began to see a path to becoming a filmmaker.

Why do you make horror films?

CL:  Horror has always been a genre that intrigues me. It’s so versatile. You can Trojan-horse so many themes and ideas in a horror movie. I love the genre’s renegade status no matter how mainstream it seems to be now. It’s still punk rock and dangerous.

What films (queer or not) have made a significant impact on you and your work? In what way?

CL: If I had to choose two filmmakers that have influenced me the most I would say John Carpenter and John Hughes. They’re totally different Johns but each made an equal and profound impact on my childhood and my creative sensibilities. Carpenter is the master of suspense. I have seen The Thing and Halloween a million times and they never stop educating me. John Hughes captured something so few filmmakers ever can – the pain and awkwardness of adolescence. But even in a movie like Trains, Planes, and Automobiles he could make you laugh and cry – often within seconds of each other. I love the quirk and heart he brought to his work.

You’ve worked on two high profile projects with Blumhouse (the Happy Death Day films). What is it like to helm a franchise for a major studio? How progressive or welcoming is the industry for queer creators right now?

CL:  I’ve been in this business for a minute now and I would say we’re living in a good moment as far as change and diversity go. My sexuality hasn’t played too great a role in my work, in terms of being marginalized, but I have always strived to bring a queer perspective to my movies. That’s not to say I haven’t encountered resistance in the past, but I think people in general are just looking for good stories no matter where (or who) they come from.

That said, we still need more diversity. When I was growing up, I didn’t see people like me in movies unless they were the brunt of a joke. That’s changing, but it can change a lot more.

Do you believe that your sexuality informs your films? If yes, in what way? If no, is that a conscious decision?

CL: OH FUCK YES. Hahahahaha. I mean, I made a studio zombie movie with a Britney sing-along and a horror set-piece while Dolly Parton’s 9-5 blared. My shit is G-A-Y. But I also think growing up queer and feeling like I didn’t quite belong really reinforced a strong sense of empathy in me. My characters are often misunderstood and stand a little outside of the world around them.

When Trace Thurman and I covered Happy Death Day for the Horror Queers podcast, we found a really sweet story about a gay fan thanking you for including the character of Tim because it normalized gay people. Have you interacted with many other queer horror fans of your films? What has that experience been like? 

CL: Absolutely. I love interacting with queer horror fans. There are SO many of us out there. I feel a kinship to them. It’s so important to be seen.

With Happy Death Day 2U now out on VOD and Blu, what’s next for you? 

CL: I have a really fun movie I’m about to go shoot. I can’t say what it is yet, but it has the best gay character ever. He is out, proud and fucking badass. I can’t wait to make this one.

Follow Christopher on social media:

Queer Horror Director Showcase: Parker Brennon, ‘Carnival of Souls’ and “…Can Kill” Horror

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Name: Parker Brennon

Age: 26

Birth Place: Gahanna, OH

Sexuality: Gay

Notable films: Haunt Me (2017), Elise’s Nightmare (2017), Below the Trees (2018)

When did you know you were queer? When did you come out?

Parker Brennon: In elementary school, I started hanging out with girls instead of boys. These opposite-sex friendships prompted some boys to call me a fag, long before I had an understanding of my own sexuality. Around age 11, I realized I was gay, and it was extremely difficult to accept. I didn’t want to be the thing I was accused of being. Finally at age 15, I told my sister I was bisexual. It wasn’t true, but it was easier than saying “gay.” I found an online boyfriend living in New York and eventually told my mom about him. She was very kind and hugged me while I cried. That was a turning point. I started coming out to my friends and being more open.

How did you get into filmmaking?

PB:  My best friend, my siblings, and I started a series of terrible shorts back in 2007. We would basically pick a noun and add “Can Kill.” Camp Can Kill. Looks Can Kill. Musicals Can Kill. The movie’s title determined its plot. I did all the video recording and editing, and it was ridiculous fun. I wouldn’t willingly share those movies with anyone today, but that’s how I began.

Why do you make horror films?

PB:  Every genre has films I enjoy, but to write and direct something myself, I need some ardent energy. Horror is what best fuels my fire. I love an eerie atmosphere. I love a sense of adventure. I love seeing women on screen who are compelling villains or survivors overcoming terrifying obstacles. Stories that contain these elements are easily born in the horror genre.

What films (queer or not) have made a significant impact on you and your work? In what way?

PB:  Carnival of Souls (1962) is my number one. I adore Candace Hilligoss’ bizarre performance. Her cold, detached character is so fascinating and weirdly relatable. Best of all, she’s plunged into an eerie, supernatural story. It’s not at all a “perfect” film, but that’s part of its charm. I also love Silent Hill (2006), largely because the video games hold an extremely special place in my heart. The nightmarish world is an ideal horror sandbox and evokes wonderfully dark adventures.

How progressive or welcoming is the industry for queer creators right now?

PB:  It’s much better than it was in the past. Although, I spend more time thinking about inequality on screen. I recently watched The Town That Dreaded Sundown (2014). I liked it, but I couldn’t help noticing that three hetero couples have sex scenes, and a gay couple is murdered before doing anything. It was a reminder that American culture relishes seeing sexual straight people, but “gay stuff” (especially between men) is always a sore subject. I can almost hear Aunt Sassy shouting “I don’t need to see that!”

Do you believe that your sexuality informs your films? If yes, in what way? If no, is that a conscious decision?

PB: Yes, my sexuality hugely impacts my work. I’ve never written a scene with heterosexual sex or kissing. My life contains an interminable amount of these displays, and if I’m in charge of a story, I’ll leave that out every time. So far, the films I’ve directed have a mix of sexually ambiguous and straight characters, but I’ll include more obviously queer people in my future work.

Do you subscribe to queer readings of your films?

PB: Hell yes! Haunt Me has more gay energy than my other shorts, but I hesitate to recommend it because my directorial skills were weaker then. Although, it was lucky enough to get over 120,000 views on YouTube, so I guess things worked out for that one.

Have you interacted with many queer horror fans of your films? What has that experience been like?

PB: Mostly online, but yes! I love it when queer people write encouraging comments or connect with me on Twitter. It’s great to be part of that community. On Twitter and Letterboxd, I often interact with queer horror fans who would otherwise be absent from my day-to-day life.

You’ve been putting out horror shorts with some regularity over the last few years. Do you plan to make the leap into horror features in the future?

PB: Absolutely. After Winter’s Blood is finished, my next project will be a feature. I wrote a feature-length version of Below the Trees, but it requires more financing than I can provide alone. Rather than dwell on that roadblock, I decided to come up with a lower budget idea. In January, I visited LA and met with a writer/producer I love. I pitched the low budget idea to her, and she’s excited about it. We’re developing that screenplay this year, and hopefully, it’ll end up being my feature directorial debut.

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