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5 Reasons Why ‘Asylum’ is the Best Season of “American Horror Story” (and 5 Reasons Why ‘Coven’ is the Worst)

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Asylum

American Horror Story: Hotel premiered earlier this week, and it came with a rather hefty amount of skepticism (from me, anyway). Ryan Murphy is known for starting his seasons off strongly, only for them to go into a tailspin around the midway point of the season. In the case of American Horror Story, he started off the series strongly with Murder House, achieved some of his best work with Asylum, hit rock bottom with Coven and slowly began to dig himself out of the hole he made with Freakshow, which was an improvement over Coven, but only slightly. Not many people seem to share this viewpoint. In fact, Coven seems to be many people’s favorite season of American Horror Story, whereas Asylum (and occasionally Freakshow) is thought to be the worst season. I’m not one to use profanity in my posts, but there’s only one way for me to say this: I fucking hate CovenAsylum is the best season and Coven is the worst, and I’m here to tell you why.

Asylum

Strong Villains

Bloody Face, Dr. Arden and the possessed Sister Mary Eunice are all more than just your standard two-dimensional villains. They all get enough screen time to make you care about them (even if that caring means wanting to see them die horrible deaths). They each had unique M.O.s and made strong, lasting impressions. A horror movie (or show) is only as good as its villain, and Asylum delivered.

Developed Characters

This is sort of an extension of my first point, but the characters in Asylum were not caricatures. These were real people with developed plot lines (well, except for Chloë Sevigny’s character, who got shafted). Lange may get all the accolades (and Sister Jude has a great arc in the season as well), but Paulson’s Lana Winters was the centerpiece of the season, and she nailed the performance in every scene. From her incarceration to her aversion therapy to her cathartic murder of her son, Lana is the best character to come out of any season of AHS.

Strong, Cohesive Narrative

Asylum had the most cohesive narrative throughout the entirety of its 13 episodes. For juggling so many things (possession, aliens, a serial killer, Nazi mutation experiments, asylum inmates, among other things), Asylum holds itself together remarkably well. The Anne Frank Halloween episodes are two of the strongest episodes the series has ever done, and they fit into the plot of the story. Nearly every plot line seemed relevant to the season as a whole, which cannot be said of any of the other seasons.

The Conclusion is (Mostly) Satisfying

American Horror Story has had a problem sticking the landing each and every season. This is no exception for Asylum, but it is undoubtedly the strongest finale of the bunch. Many weren’t fans of the flash-forward storytelling device used for the final episode, but Asylum was always about Lana and her journey toward peace. The show needed to jump forward to give her that peace. Kit ends up taking in Sister Jude and taking care of her until she dies, and he is abducted by aliens after being diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. Lana kills Dr. Thredson (aka Bloody Face), Alma is admitted to Briarcliff. It all sounds sloppy, but the execution is nearly flawless.

Its Actually Horrific

A show called American Horror Story needs to have some actual horror, and Asyludelivers it in spades. From the human experimentations done by James Cromwell’s Dr. Arden, to the possession of Sister Mary Eunice (Lily Rabe), Asylum pulled no punches. The only real moment of levity was the musical number in episode 10, but even that had a dark background to it. Asylum was a bleak, unforgiving season, that turned off many viewers (and is the main reason why Murphy turned to camp in Coven). This always confused me, because it seems as if people who are watching American Horror Story don’t want to see any actual horror.

Coven

As for Coven, aka the season that pandered to the gays, there have been plenty of articles written about the mess of a season it was. These are just some of my biggest issues with it:

UPDATE: After reading some of the comments I feel the need to explain the above statement. When I say “pandering to the gays,” that is not an insult to gay people (of which I am one), but rather an insult to Coven and the team behind it. As I watched Coven, it seemed like Murphy’s thought process was “let’s fill the show with bitchy queens and sassy one-liners” in lieu of a coherent plot, as if that is going to make the show for us and forgive it its shortcomings. I felt insulted by the fact that the creative team behind the show thought that that is all I wanted to see. I felt pandered to, and to be pandered to is insulting. That was my reasoning behind that statement. 

No Direction

If you go back and watch all 13 episodes of Coven, there doesn’t seem to be any consistency with the narrative. It really feels like the writers made it up as they went along. A simple outline of the season would have gone a long way in ensuring Coven’s cohesiveness. Alas, it’s clear no outline was made.

Inconsistent Characters

This is probably my biggest issue with Coven. None of the characters in the season felt like real characters because they  did things their character would never do. Kathy Bates’ Madame LaLaurie began a redemptive arc with Gabourey Sidibe’s Queenie and just….stopped. Don’t forget about the fact that Jessica Lange’s Fiona was a murderer and no one seemed to care. Cordelia’s forgiveness of Fiona in the finale didn’t feel like something Cordelia would actually do. Queenie leaving the girls at Miss Robichaux’s for Marie Laveau’s voodoo team also didn’t make much sense. The show seemed to imply that it was just a race thing, but there was not enough screen time devoted to Queenie’s scenes with Laveau to make her betrayal convincing. Emma Roberts’ Madison Montgomery and Sarah Paulson’s Cordelia were probably the only consistently written character throughout the entire season.

It Was Overstuffed Yet Storylines Were Left Hanging

What were the repercussions of Queenie having sex with a minotour? What happened to Madame LaLaurie’s redemption arc (as mentioned above)? People always complain about Asylum having one too many plot lines (though I’ll admit that the aliens were superfluous), but Coven is the real culprit here. What was the point of bringing in Patti Lupone’s character and her son? Why was Stevie Nicks even there (other than fan service)? The witch hunters were brought in and dispatched rather quickly. Cordelia didn’t seem to care much about the fact that her husband was a witch hunter. And remember when Zoe and Kyle skipped town, only to just come back in the beginning of the next episode for no particular reason? It’s all pretty sloppy screenwriting.

No Stakes

Just when you thought Coven was pulling the rug out from under you by killing a main character off early in the season (Evan Peters, Emma Roberts), they were resurrected. Death was never a permanent fixture in Coven, which made it really hard to care or worry about any of the characters. If you can’t care about the characters (praising their bitchiness and wittiness doesn’t count as caring about them), then there is nothing but a hollow shell of a show. Also, the endgame being the reveal of the new Supreme was not compelling at all. If that was the whole purpose of the season, it’s boring

Unearned Endings

The biggest offender of this is arguably Lily Rabe’s Misty Day. Her fate in the finale “The Seven Wonders,” where she is trapped in Hell for all eternity to dissect frogs, doesn’t hold much weight for us as viewers. Sure, she was one of the most likable characters of the season, but we really didn’t know anything about her other than that she really liked Stevie Nicks. Having her own personal Hell be dissecting frogs felt too predictable and like an easy narrative out. The endgame for the season was always going to be to have Cordelia be the new Supreme, so they just needed a way to dispatch Misty. Her fate would have been better suited to Roberts’ Madison Montgomery, who gets an “easy” death via strangulation by Peters’ character. No character had more of an unearned ending than Fiona though. She was a despicable, selfish human being and a murderer, but the show gave her a redemptive arc (in the last episode). We shouldn’t want to see this woman gain her daughter’s sympathy. Coven was trying to subvert expectations, and I get that, but it came off as cheap and unearned.

What do you think? Am I being too hard on Coven (or too forgiving of Asylum)? Let me know your thoughts in the comments below or Tweet me.

A journalist for Bloody Disgusting since 2015, Trace writes film reviews and editorials, as well as co-hosts Bloody Disgusting's Horror Queers podcast, which looks at horror films through a queer lens. He has since become dedicated to amplifying queer voices in the horror community, while also injecting his own personal flair into film discourse. Trace lives in Austin, TX with his husband and their two dogs. Find him on Twitter @TracedThurman

Editorials

What’s Wrong with My Baby!? Larry Cohen’s ‘It’s Alive’ at 50

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Netflix It's Alive

Soon after the New Hollywood generation took over the entertainment industry, they started having children. And more than any filmmakers that came before—they were terrified. Rosemary’s Baby (1968), The Exorcist (1973), The Omen (1976), Eraserhead (1977), The Brood (1979), The Shining (1980), Possession (1981), and many others all deal, at least in part, with the fears of becoming or being a parent. What if my child turns out to be a monster? is corrupted by some evil force? or turns out to be the fucking Antichrist? What if I screw them up somehow, or can’t help them, or even go insane and try to kill them? Horror has always been at its best when exploring relatable fears through extreme circumstances. A prime example of this is Larry Cohen’s 1974 monster-baby movie It’s Alive, which explores the not only the rollercoaster of emotions that any parent experiences when confronted with the difficulties of raising a child, but long-standing questions of who or what is at fault when something goes horribly wrong.

Cohen begins making his underlying points early in the film as Frank Davis (John P. Ryan) discusses the state of the world with a group of expectant fathers in a hospital waiting room. They discuss the “overabundance of lead” in foods and the environment, smog, and pesticides that only serve to produce roaches that are “bigger, stronger, and harder to kill.” Frank comments that this is “quite a world to bring a kid into.” This has long been a discussion point among people when trying to decide whether to have kids or not. I’ve had many conversations with friends who have said they feel it’s irresponsible to bring children into such a violent, broken, and dangerous world, and I certainly don’t begrudge them this. My wife and I did decide to have children but that doesn’t mean that it’s been easy.

Immediately following this scene comes It’s Alive’s most famous sequence in which Frank’s wife Lenore (Sharon Farrell) is the only person left alive in her delivery room, the doctors clawed and bitten to death by her mutant baby, which has escaped. “What does my baby look like!? What’s wrong with my baby!?” she screams as nurses wheel her frantically into a recovery room. The evening that had begun with such joy and excitement at the birth of their second child turned into a nightmare. This is tough for me to write, but on some level, I can relate to this whiplash of emotion. When my second child was born, they came about five weeks early. I’ll use the pronouns “they/them” for privacy reasons when referring to my kids. Our oldest was still very young and went to stay with my parents and we sped off to the hospital where my wife was taken into an operating room for an emergency c-section. I was able to carry our newborn into the NICU (natal intensive care unit) where I was assured that this was routine for all premature births. The nurses assured me there was nothing to worry about and the baby looked big and healthy. I headed to where my wife was taken to recover to grab a few winks assuming that everything was fine. Well, when I awoke, I headed back over to the NICU to find that my child was not where I left them. The nurse found me and told me that the baby’s lungs were underdeveloped, and they had to put them in a special room connected to oxygen tubes and wires to monitor their vitals.

It’s difficult to express the fear that overwhelmed me in those moments. Everything turned out okay, but it took a while and I’m convinced to this day that their anxiety struggles spring from these first weeks of life. As our children grew, we learned that two of the three were on the spectrum and that anxiety, depression, ADHD, and OCD were also playing a part in their lives. Parents, at least speaking for myself, can’t help but blame themselves for the struggles their children face. The “if only” questions creep in and easily overcome the voices that assure us that it really has nothing to do with us. In the film, Lenore says, “maybe it’s all the pills I’ve been taking that brought this on.” Frank muses aloud about how he used to think that Frankenstein was the monster, but when he got older realized he was the one that made the monster. The aptly named Frank is wondering if his baby’s mutation is his fault, if he created the monster that is terrorizing Los Angeles. I have made plenty of “if only” statements about myself over the years. “If only I hadn’t had to work so much, if only I had been around more when they were little.” Mothers may ask themselves, “did I have a drink, too much coffee, or a cigarette before I knew I was pregnant? Was I too stressed out during the pregnancy?” In other words, most parents can’t help but wonder if it’s all their fault.

At one point in the film, Frank goes to the elementary school where his baby has been sighted and is escorted through the halls by police. He overhears someone comment about “screwed up genes,” which brings about age-old questions of nature vs. nurture. Despite the voices around him from doctors and detectives that say, “we know this isn’t your fault,” Frank can’t help but think it is, and that the people who try to tell him it isn’t really think it’s his fault too. There is no doubt that there is a hereditary element to the kinds of mental illness struggles that my children and I deal with. But, and it’s a bit but, good parenting goes a long way in helping children deal with these struggles. Kids need to know they’re not alone, a good parent can provide that, perhaps especially parents that can relate to the same kinds of struggles. The question of nature vs. nurture will likely never be entirely answered but I think there’s more than a good chance that “both/and” is the case. Around the midpoint of the film, Frank agrees to disown the child and sign it over for medical experimentation if caught or killed. Lenore and the older son Chris (Daniel Holzman) seek to nurture and teach the baby, feeling that it is not a monster, but a member of the family.

It’s Alive takes these ideas to an even greater degree in the fact that the Davis Baby really is a monster, a mutant with claws and fangs that murders and eats people. The late ’60s and early ’70s also saw the rise in mass murderers and serial killers which heightened the nature vs. nurture debate. Obviously, these people were not literal monsters but human beings that came from human parents, but something had gone horribly wrong. Often the upbringing of these killers clearly led in part to their antisocial behavior, but this isn’t always the case. It’s Alive asks “what if a ‘monster’ comes from a good home?” In this case is it society, environmental factors, or is it the lead, smog, and pesticides? It is almost impossible to know, but the ending of the film underscores an uncomfortable truth—even monsters have parents.

As the film enters its third act, Frank joins the hunt for his child through the Los Angeles sewers and into the L.A. River. He is armed with a rifle and ready to kill on sight, having divorced himself from any relationship to the child. Then Frank finds his baby crying in the sewers and his fatherly instincts take over. With tears in his eyes, he speaks words of comfort and wraps his son in his coat. He holds him close, pats and rocks him, and whispers that everything is going to be okay. People often wonder how the parents of those who perform heinous acts can sit in court, shed tears, and defend them. I think it’s a complex issue. I’m sure that these parents know that their child has done something evil, but that doesn’t change the fact that they are still their baby. Your child is a piece of yourself formed into a whole new human being. Disowning them would be like cutting off a limb, no matter what they may have done. It doesn’t erase an evil act, far from it, but I can understand the pain of a parent in that situation. I think It’s Alive does an exceptional job placing its audience in that situation.

Despite the serious issues and ideas being examined in the film, It’s Alive is far from a dour affair. At heart, it is still a monster movie and filled with a sense of fun and a great deal of pitch-black humor. In one of its more memorable moments, a milkman is sucked into the rear compartment of his truck as red blood mingles with the white milk from smashed bottles leaking out the back of the truck and streaming down the street. Just after Frank agrees to join the hunt for his baby, the film cuts to the back of an ice cream truck with the words “STOP CHILDREN” emblazoned on it. It’s a movie filled with great kills, a mutant baby—created by make-up effects master Rick Baker early in his career, and plenty of action—and all in a PG rated movie! I’m telling you, the ’70s were wild. It just also happens to have some thoughtful ideas behind it as well.

Which was Larry Cohen’s specialty. Cohen made all kinds of movies, but his most enduring have been his horror films and all of them tackle the social issues and fears of the time they were made. God Told Me To (1976), Q: The Winged Serpent (1982), and The Stuff (1985) are all great examples of his socially aware, low-budget, exploitation filmmaking with a brain and It’s Alive certainly fits right in with that group. Cohen would go on to write and direct two sequels, It Lives Again (aka It’s Alive 2) in 1978 and It’s Alive III: Island of the Alive in 1987 and is credited as a co-writer on the 2008 remake. All these films explore the ideas of parental responsibility in light of the various concerns of the times they were made including abortion rights and AIDS.

Fifty years after It’s Alive was initially released, it has only become more relevant in the ensuing years. Fears surrounding parenthood have been with us since the beginning of time but as the years pass the reasons for these fears only seem to become more and more profound. In today’s world the conversation of the fathers in the waiting room could be expanded to hormones and genetic modifications in food, terrorism, climate change, school and other mass shootings, and other threats that were unknown or at least less of a concern fifty years ago. Perhaps the fearmongering conspiracy theories about chemtrails and vaccines would be mentioned as well, though in a more satirical fashion, as fears some expectant parents encounter while endlessly doomscrolling Facebook or Twitter. Speaking for myself, despite the struggles, the fears, and the sadness that sometimes comes with having children, it’s been worth it. The joys ultimately outweigh all of that, but I understand the terror too. Becoming a parent is no easy choice, nor should it be. But as I look back, I can say that I’m glad we made the choice we did.

I wonder if Frank and Lenore can say the same thing.

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