[Pride 2020] Queer Comforts In Horror

I am writing this in a strange time, two months into a quarantine, stuck inside and trying to find comfort in film and television while I teach online. My husband has been trying to get me to binge Ozark, so we can watch the most recent season together, but I constantly just can’t get myself to watch it. Of course, I am sure Ozark is great and one day I will watch, but for now when he asked why, I said that it just seems too dark and gloomy and I wasn’t in the mood for more gloom in the current moment.

One day he asked again, and I said I still wasn’t in the mood, but I followed up suggesting we watch The Lodge, which just became available on Hulu. He had no idea what it was about, but I did know the general premise and I read reviews about its darkness and unrelenting misery. And I agree the movie is just that: it’s a rough film that is a deep dive in misery and delves in psychological terror.

I can’t remember exactly how, but while watching, my husband turned to me confused and questioned why The Lodge was okay, but Ozark was not. This was a surprisingly complicated question because he’s right at face value. The Lodge does not have a positive premise, but the experience of watching The Lodge did provide me comfort.

I love horror films; there is no other genre that brings me the same consistent joy and, in a time like this, comfort. It sounds counter-intuitive but when the darkness and gloom comes from horror it hits me differently. It’s complicated to consider how or why horror provides that feeling. Inherently as a queer historian, I believe this comfort is a sort of queer comfort that horror provides, meaning that the comfort and joy horror provides me is attached to my queer identity.

I want to hear about the kind of feelings The Babadook brings up for you. pic.twitter.com/UyuCQqKMwO

— nay (@blakkcupcake) May 14, 2020

Anecdotally, I find that to be the case for other queer folks. Horror provides an escape, and that escape is the source of comfort. A good example is a tweet by Attack of the Queerwolf co-host Renée “Nay” Bever, where she asked, “I want to hear about the kind of feelings The Babadook brings up for you” (May 13, 2020). And the replies show folks connected to the way the film portrayed trauma and grief, but not in an exploitative way. The film showed a truth and almost a way to face and heal from that challenge.

NeitherThe Babadook nor The Lodge provide a traditional “happy” ending, but they do provide a sense of comfort in a hectic world. And that comfort is coming not from the story itself but our own sense of comfort as queer folks to see beyond the darkness when we do, or have, lived in that darkness at some point in our lives.

Other horror films with more positive endings like Scream or Midsommar also help us as queer viewers see beyond the darkness in more intentional ways. When the hero prevails in horror, that also provides similar feelings of comfort, and I go back to those stories as well for when I need to root for that final person and be reminded of what can be overcome (and yes Dani from Midsommar is a personal hero). It’s the beauty of horror. Whether it’s The Lodge or Scream, what will always make me come back to the genre regardless of the world around me.

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