Representation within film has been something audiences and filmmakers alike have battled with since the beginning, and with recent efforts nationally to revoke DEI within companies, it is as important as ever to hear from voices of all kinds. The queer community is one that has had quite an uphill battle when it comes to representation, especially in certain genres, one being the horror genre. Historically, queer identities in horror are often associated with the villain/killer, or with a disposable character present in the film solely for queer punchlines. In films like The Silence of the Lambs (1991) and The Rocky Horror Picture Show (1975), the male antagonists’ feminine mannerisms and interests are something to be feared and unsettled by, and in a sense, moreso in the case of the latter film mentioned, their presence threatens a heteronormative culture and binary gender system. Although, this treatment of queer folk in horror serves as a surface level reading of queerness in the horror genre, as with minimal research, it is evident that queer audience members have resonated with the horror genre and its villainized queer caricatures for years. Furthermore, in more recent years, there have been additions to the genre with positive representation for queer folk, and more pivotal roles within the narrative as opposed to the side characters and comic-relief scrap roles the queer community is usually thrown.
One prime example of this positive representation, although overall a heartbreaking film, is Jane Shoenbrun’s I Saw the TV Glow (2024). This film follows two childhood friends who share a favorite show on the film’s equivalent to a Nick at Nite teen-tv hour. Lines begin to blur between the lives of the protagonists, Owen and Maddy, and the characters of the show, Isabel and Tara. The film serves as an allegorical drama on the transgender experience through nostalgia, with the main character struggling with his identity and a feeling of being trapped in his body. So, instead of another queer-coded villain, a transgender individual is given the spotlight and their experience is highlighted. So, while queer representation early in the horror genre can be seen as complicated at best, the genre’s conventions, especially its focus on gender, have paved the way for a comfortability and reclamation by a queer audience. Furthermore, with new postmodern horror films like Jane Shoenbrun’s I Saw the TV Glow (2024), the queer community can have positive representation of more concrete identities in a genre that has teetered between queer implications and villainization for decades.
Queer implications in villain characters have been somewhat consistent across various genres for a long time, as can even be seen within Disney films. However, there was a major rise in this idea, especially in the horror genre, around the 1980s. Mia Lindenberg mentions this phenomenon in her paper “How to Make a Monster: The Homosexual Experience in Horror and Thriller Cinema”. She writes, “Particularly in the genre of horror, the inherent ostracization of the monster from society has allowed subtextual homoerotic themes as well as overt references to the subcultural practices of gay communities in contemporary cinema. As horror developed, especially during and in the aftermath of the AIDS epidemic, this phenomenon turned into a means to reinforce the image of the homosexual as a monster within general audiences until it became difficult to differentiate the two,” (Lindenberg 1). Lindenberg explains that these images of monsters became so intertwined with their queer actions/behaviors that they are no longer separate ideas in the audiences’ minds. One film previously mentioned that I believe puts this idea within this context is The Silence of the Lambs (1991), which came out a few years before the introduction of Highly Active Antiretroviral Therapy, which caused a significant decrease in AIDS-related deaths. The villain in the movie has somewhat of a fluid gender identity, but the scenes that supposedly incite fear or discomfort in the audience are generally focused on his interest in feminine things, or his feminine mannerisms, and in the process monstrifying this male character on multiple occasions solely for his femininity and not his murderous tendencies. I think that a discomfort within the audience is still applicable within queer narratives now, but the discomfort is not from gender nonconformity, but rather from the body horror and visceral emotion felt in contemporary queer horror films like I Saw the TV Glow.
While villainization is a very important problem with queer representation, many would argue an equally important aspect is solidified representation. Oftentimes, films can get away with “representation” that lacks any specific identifying factors, or even gets explicitly denied as being queer. In Lindenberg’s article, she states, “Despite many of the intentions being harmful, any depiction of the gay experience has been eagerly digested by gay audiences not used to any representation,” (Lindenberg 1). So although there are suggestive claims regarding sexuality within the genre, there was still an important queer reclamation. This phenomenon is especially important, being that in films like The Silence of the Lambs and Psycho, the characters are denied by “specialists” as actually being queer. In doing this, the films taunt representation (albeit rough-around-the-edges representation, but representation nonetheless) and then take it right back, and in doing so, these films profit off of the fear of gender nonconformity and transphobic narratives. I believe that this is a large aspect of queer representation that is rapidly changing. In I Saw the TV Glow, the narrative is allegorical, never explicitly mentioning gender identity at all. However, the entire story focuses on Maddy and Owen, and their feelings of entrapment within their own bodies, along with their differing reactions/acceptance of these identities, making it hard to ignore the implications of the transgender experience. Terra Mae Gasque, a researcher in queer theory, wrote a piece on the metaphorical representation of the trans experience within the film. She discusses an idea referred to as “the egg-crack moment” in a transgender individuals’ life that Schoenbrun also cites as inspiration for the film. Gasque writes, “A common colloquialism within the community, the “egg-cracking” metaphor describes both the initial revelatory experience and the subsequent internal conflict which arises within individuals as they investigate potential new identity markers,” (Gasque). This egg-crack moment is evident within the bulk of the film, but the visceral emotion and heartbreaking finale very clearly represent what Gasque referenced as “the subsequent internal conflict”, which we can see quite literally as Owen slices open his chest to see the glowing tv static he has held internally thus far.
When discussing this specific film as a positive representation of the queer community, there is an important distinction to be made. As mentioned, the film ends quite tragically, with Owen once again chooses to be content hiding his true self, as his true self almost fights to escape. The film’s final sequence is at Owen’s place of work, an entertainment restaurant adjacent to Chuck E Cheese. It is important to note even the costuming and makeup in this sequence, since Owen, although not many years have passed, has aged or rather decayed much more than expected, especially in comparison to his other coworkers who we see next to a healthier Owen earlier on. There is physical evidence of this decay that we can see in the bags under his eyes, his shakiness, and his cracked lips. Furthermore, there is also a mental decay that climaxes when Owen screams out at work, pleading “You need to help me,” (Shoenbrun). As he yells, everyone around him suddenly shuts down, unable to hear or help.
Following the breakdown, Owen cuts his chest open in the bathroom to reveal a beautiful and flourishing energy within himself. Schoenbrun is consistent in their use of bright and intense color grading, leading many audience members to consider the aesthetic to be “neon noir”, pulling from film noir’s conventions of low-lit, pessimistically-charged dramas and shedding the crime aspect. The sequence is stunning, especially around [01:29:47] as Owen pulls his chest apart to reveal the tv glow and static within him. His face washes over with a mix of joy and relief as he chuckles and pulls himself open further, until the glow from inside him shields his face from view. He sits in the warmth of the neon blue light for a moment, until the film ends with Owen composing himself, and reentering the people outside, suffocating them with apologies. This is clearly not intended to be a joyful scene, or a happy ending for Owen after the stressful events within the film. Nonetheless, this is a visceral representation of the queer experience. The discomfort the audience feels by the end is important to understanding these characters, which is how it differs from villains before; although not inherently harmonious, I Saw the TV Glow offers a very real queer story, and that is positive representation. Additionally, this film, although ending on a tragic note, offers a message of hope for the queer audiences watching, which is another way in which this film’s queer representation is different. The tagline most often associated with the film is “there is still time”, a sentiment that can be seen written in chalk on a neighborhood street during the film. So while the story of the protagonist may be tragic, there is still hope for them at the end, and for the queer audience members, which differs greatly from most of the films with queer themes, horror and not.
In looking at I Saw the TV Glow, its clear that it breaks away from horror’s complicated (yet adored) past with queer folk as a response to what has come before in the genre. The slasher film is a subgenre of horror that has constantly played with gender roles, and Carol J. Clover’s book “Men, Women, and Chainsaws: Gender in the Modern Horror Film” is seen as a pivotal piece of literature/scholarship to draw attention to these ideas, even coining the term “final girl”. Gender roles and the audiences that horror films attract have never been linear, as there is much evidence within Clover’s work that young men are the target audience, who, “are quite prepared to identify not just with screen females, but with screen females in the horror-film world, screen females in fear and pain,” (Clover 5). With this idea however, there is also a denial of identification with these leading women that creates an interesting starting point for the full exploration of the blurring lines of the gender binary in horror.
With this film, Jane Schoenbrun was able to delve into a deeper exploration of gender through a different kind of horror, as Clover focuses on women-led horror including slashers, possession films, and rape revenge films. Not only that, but I Saw the TV Glow also works stylistically differently, involving darker themes and neon colors. And while the queer community has been able to reclaim many “gay icons” in horror in the past, there is a movement forward that will no longer make them settle. I Saw the TV Glow can be considered a post-horror film, made in response to the genre’s conventions thus far. While many times before, the genre relies on jump scares and murderous killers, post-horror films move towards narratives with deeper focus on character development, internal struggles, and body horror. These three ideas encapsulate Jane Schoenbrun’s directorial debut, and I believe that they made a grand step in the direction of positive representation for queer audiences.
Nice post! Very insightful