Editorials
[Horror Queers] ‘Looker’: Goofy Mystery or Prescient Analysis of Future Tech?
Each month in Horror Queers, Joe and Trace tackle a horror film with LGBTQ+ themes, a high camp quotient or both. For lifelong queer horror fans like us, there’s as much value in serious discussions about representation as there is in reading a ridiculously silly/fun horror film with a YAS KWEEN mentality. Just know that at no point will we be getting Babashook.
Be sure to check out and subscribe to the Horror Queers podcast! We’re still writing one article a month, but we release one podcast episode each week and discuss one film per episode. Subscribe on Apple Podcasts, Google Play, Stitcher, TuneIn, or RSS.
***SPOILERS for Looker follow.***
Synopsis: Three of four models who had plastic surgery done by Dr. Larry Roberts (Albert Finney) are dead. Neither the cops nor Larry believe they’re suicides, so who’s behind the murders?
Queer Aspect: FASHION!
Where to Stream: Looker is available to stream for $2.99 on Amazon Prime Video.
Trace
Oh my, Joe. What is this movie? Truth be told, I’m a bit flabbergasted that I’ve never heard of Michael Crichton(!)’s Looker before, but apparently a whole generation of horror fans are familiar with it as an HBO mainstay in the early ‘80s. What a time to be alive!
In all seriousness, though: this is some kooky shit, so let’s dive in.
Looker hit theaters on October 30, 1981, a full nine months before the release of Disney’s Tron, which is often credited with pioneering the use of similar computer technology in film. It is Looker, however, that has the distinction of being the first ever film to create 3D shading with a computer. Tron went on to become an underrated masterpiece, whereas Looker disappeared into the annals of forgettable trash. I mean, it is trash, but it sure is fun!
To say that Looker takes a kitchen sink approach to its narrative would be a massive understatement. It’s as if Crichton wanted to make three different movies but had no time, so he decided to merge them all into one. Thus, Looker was born. We’ve got your standard murder mystery, a takedown of corporate America, a romantic comedy and a sci-fi thriller. It’s….a lot. But that’s part of Looker’s charm, isn’t it?
But wait, is it really that dumb? Looking back, it’s impressive just how much Looker predicted the future. Hell, many later films would utilize similar plot points, including a corporation using commercials for evil including Halloween III: Season of the Witch and our beloved Josie and the Pussycats. Sure, Crichton’s execution of, well, everything, is ridiculous, but you have to appreciate the ideas at work here. It’s not as if Crichton isn’t a capable filmmaker (he did write and direct Westworld, after all), but perhaps he just didn’t have a full grasp of the material?
It’s a shame that the whole thing is so damn silly. I use the word “shame” loosely, because I find the film to be a complete blast, but would its legacy be different if it had taken the subject matter seriously? Maybe, maybe not. Looker is camp. I know that you and I have discussed whether or not a film knows it is camp on the podcast, but I’ll make the leap here and proclaim that Looker does not know it’s a bad movie. That’s what makes it so memorable! It’s the Zoolander of the ‘80s. It just doesn’t know it.
Oh, and can we please discuss how this is a PG-rated film? Yes, I’m aware that it was released before the creation of the PG-13 rating in 1984, but holy boobies, Batman! There are so many bare breasts in this film! It’s ironic because Looker is so clearly intended for gay males (I mean, that obviously wasn’t the original intent, but that’s most definitely the demographic it appeals to the most). After all, is there anything more gay than the film’s theme song? Because of course this movie has a theme song. It’s absolutely insane and I was living for every minute of it. I’d like to imagine that this was playing at night clubs in the ‘80s. That was probably a thing, right?
Joe, what did you think of Looker? Were you as enamored with it as I was? What did you think of the future technology Crichton predicted? How about that insane stunt in which one of the victims is thrown off her balcony and on to a car, only to see her legs bend over her head like a Barbie doll? Lastly, why was Digital Matrix having all of these models killed? Am I going crazy? I swear that was never explained. That has to be a major plot hole, right?
Joe
Trace, I will fully admit that I completely spaced on the giant plot hole about the models’ murders. But then again, the minute that you stop to consider the plot for even a half second, the whole thing comes tumbling down like a house of cards.
The obvious implication behind the murders is that once the girls have been rendered into pliable 3D models, the real life versions are no longer needed. So why kill them? Well, one theory is to remove them from circulation so that they can’t work for a competitor. The other is to keep them from talking about the process, which is shrouded in secrecy inside the Digital Matrix facility. It seems ridiculous to kill a model over a car commercial, but when you factor in the other uses we see in the climactic party sequence, all of the sudden maybe it makes sense? (Also: does that mean all of the other actors we see in the presentation are also dead? Or are models more disposable?).
So just what exactly is Digital Matrix’s plan for world domination? The entire set-up with the Senator and all of those tres chic party guests suggests that they had grand ambitions to affect the political climate (which reminds me of the end goal in Limitless), but then why bother with the kitchen cleaner commercial? Or the car commercial? Was the intent to infiltrate all sectors of commerce and politics? Trace, you mention a kitchen sink approach to this narrative, and that’s exactly what this bloated, confused presentation in the climax offers. If I were a powerful guest at that party, I would have tuned out well before the dead bodies began showing up on camera!
Of course, the simple truth is that Crichton doesn’t actually clarify anything, so we’re only left with assumptions. I’ll admit that in my youth, I was a huuuuuge fan of Crichton’s books…at least until I sadly discovered that he was a crazy climate change denier (I remember being so invested in Jurassic Park and The Lost World on a holiday that my family threatened to burn the books if I didn’t put them down). I didn’t actually know that he had worked in film outside of Westworld though, so when I saw his name on this, I was both surprised and wary. (It should be noted that he also wrote and directed Coma, which despite mixed reviews, appears to have directly inspired key visuals from Tarsem Singh’s The Cell).
But back to Looker. Oh lawd…what to say?
-Yes, the theme song is ICONIC (I 100% had it stuck in my head for DAYS). It seems to be one of the defining elements that has stuck around in pop culture. If you say the name of the film, fellow gays will sing it out. It’s like a mating call.
-Yes, the surprising amount of cleavage for a PG film is astonishing. Overall the film’s decor and attitude towards women strongly reminded me of a combination of the homoerotic volleyball scene in Top Gun, the casual nudity of Showgirls and a dash of Rhona Mitra’s pink-AF bedroom from Hollow Man (which we just recorded an audio commentary on last month).
-As for the depiction of the future…it’s surprisingly prescient, isn’t it? Not just the idea of using hypnosis in commercials, but the ownership of dead celebrities and their image as commodities. I definitely thought of all of the dead celebrities who have been brought back to shill for products like Diet Coke, Coors, and Dirt Devil as early as 1991, as well as the weird hologram concert tours as recently as this year with Amy Winehouse and Whitney Huston. These real life examples are incredibly icky and reek of desperate cash grabs, much like Digital Matrix’s plot here!
This all treats the film as something serious, though, and that’s not the most memorable aspect of Looker. We’re overlooking the weird 80s of it (Albert Finney as a hot plastic surgeon whose model patients all in love with him?!), the ridiculous climax when real people accidentally appear in computer-generated commercials to hilarious effect, and/or the ludicrous acronym for the epilepsy-inducing light gun that gives the film 1/2 of its name (L.O.O.K.E.R = Light Ocular-Oriented Kinetic Emotive Responses. The other ½ of the name? Hot chicks, naturally).
Trace: what were some of your favourite scenes? I, too, loved the model’s bent-over backwards car crash, but were there other action sequences that caught your eye (like, say, a certain light gun car battle worthy of Mario Kart)? What did you think of “Moustache Man”, played by former NFL player Tim Rossovich? And finally, in the spirit of Westworld, what would your HBO miniseries remake of this property look like?

Trace
Joe, I’m so proud of you for referencing Mario Kart, of all things! I know you’re not much of a gaymer so that reference put a big ol’ smile on my face in these troubled times. It’s the little things, ya know?
But yes, that car chase 100% reminded me of a round of Mario Kart, particularly the smash cut to Finney’s car just sitting in the fountain. Comedy gold, I tell you! That being said, I confess that I didn’t think much of moustache man! A) Your NFL reference means nothing to me. B) He’s just sort of…there? I don’t know, I was more fascinated with James Coburn since he’ll always be Tex from Charade to me (yes, I’m aware he’s been in a lot of films, but that’s my nostalgia talking).
Anyway, I call bullshit on your reasoning regarding why the models are being killed. The reasons you listed could easily be covered in a non-disclosure agreement or non-compete agreement in their contracts! I guess Digital Matrix is trying to be thorough, but I honestly think the film tries to present the company as not entirely evil. Am I alone in thinking that? The murdering of the models, despite being the central premise of the film, feels so far removed from whatever is happening in the climax that I almost forgot about it (and let’s be honest: the film certainly did). I do wonder if the fact that the main villain of the film is female has any significance, however. Yes, Coburn’s John Reston is technically the “big bad” of the film, but it’s Leigh Taylor Young’s Jennifer Long who’s really the mastermind behind Digital Matrix.
This climax, though. This. climax. While I don’t appreciate how our female lead (a post-The Partridge Family but pre-L.A Law Susan Dey) is relegated to a damsel in distress (she spends the entirety of the climax trying to fish handcuff keys out of Young’s pocket), the absolute insanity of watching Finney run from commercial to commercial is a non-stop laugh riot. And it goes on for So. Fucking. Long! Like all of Looker, it’s needlessly complex for a simple chase scene, but goddamn if it doesn’t entertain.
To answer your question regarding an HBO adaptation, however: I think it’s very doable. Looker is an admittedly goofy film and, given the technological landscape we’re in now, you could update the effects and keep the central murder mystery in place (well, with the exception of adding in a motive for the murders, but you understand). Cast someone like George Clooney in the Albert Finney role and then a young ingenue like Jessica Rothe in the Susan Dey role, add in some dead models and some future tech and bam! The next Westworld is here. Oh! Or do we gender-flip it and cast an Amy Adams or a Diane Lane in the Albert Finney role and someone like Timothée Chalamet in the Susan Dey role? The possibilities are endless!
At the end of the day, Looker is fun, forgettable fluff. I envy the people who grew up with the film because of repeat showings on HBO because Looker is to them what films like I Know What You Did Last Summer and Deep Blue Sea were to me (though those films have gone on to gain more of a substantial cult following than Looker has). I just have a hard time trying to peg what Looker is trying to be. Maybe it doesn’t know! Maybe that’s why, all in all, I’m not going to remember Looker next week. It was a fun diversion, but nothing more.
Joe, what are your final thoughts on Looker? Will it earn a place in your “show it to your friends” hall of fame or is it a fun one-time watch for you? Do you, like me, also lament the lack of Susan Dey in the third act? Cindy is such a spitfire that the film is borderline misogynistic for wasting her. Oh, and how about those nuns calling Larry a “stupid idiot” when he almost mows them down during that Mario Kart sequence? Finally, if you could LOOKER someone with the L.O.O.K.E.R., who would it be and why?

Joe
First off, you probably shouldn’t peg Looker without its consent, even if it is just to find out what it’s trying to be. Lol.
Secondly, I applaud your fictional casting of Rothe as the young spitfire. Chalamet, on the other hand, would have to channel some serious Laurie-from-Little Women vibes to be this convincingly charismatic.
In all seriousness, you’re absolutely right: Looker is a very silly film and likely not one that I’ll revisit with any regularity, although I did enjoy it a lot. I’m especially glad that Eric Chamelo, the screenwriter of The Perfection and our guest on the American Psycho episode of the podcast, recommended it for us because it wasn’t even on my radar before!
As for rewatchability…I could certainly imagine throwing this on in the middle of a movie marathon with friends, particularly folks who don’t like horror or aren’t 100% paying attention. Looker is a film that doesn’t benefit from close analysis, so being distracted and tuning in exclusively to the Mario Kart/nun cuss sequence would still be plenty entertaining. I can totally picture scheduling Looker in-between Death Spa and Killer Workout, followed by Chopping Mall and Night of the Comet (just to ensure there were films with actual substance in there).
Thinking about that ending, though, definitely makes me mad. I know it was far more conventional back in 1981 to simply tie your heroine up, but Cindy literally doesn’t do anything in that climax. Even after Jennifer Long is shot dead by Ominous Moustache (as I referred to him in my notes) and she stumbles back to the elevator/platform, all Cindy does is grapple with her for a bit. Sure she frees herself and then what…hides? What the hell, movie?! Why even bother with these scenes?!
I fully expected Cindy to either be captured by Reston (who is absolutely the villain – nice try) or save Larry! But no. Apparently hot women can show their boobs, occasionally crack wise and get thrown off balconies, but handle a gun or muster some agency? Absolutely not. Oh Crichton, you misogynistic hack!
Before I describe how I would employ the L.O.O.K.E.R gun on someone, I will commend the film for the sequence when Larry gets zapped repeatedly at Cindy’s apartment. The sound design, the editing of the clocks and the simple visuals (the overflowing sink, the confusingly more frozen open freezer) are really effective at creating a sense of unease as we – and Larry – wondered how much time had passed.
Now, back to the fun question! Unfortunately, we’re writing this while still under house arrest, so with limited options, I suppose I would use the L.O.O.K.E.R. gun on idiots who aren’t practicing social distancing at the grocery store (seriously, just stay away from me!). In sunnier circumstances, however, think of how hilarious it would be to create mischief at parties: stun your friends, then move items around so that they doubt their sobriety. Start small and then escalate as the night goes on. Is it juvenile? Definitely. But is it funny? I think so.
Next time on Horror Queers: In the spirit of being locked in, we’re traveling to Spain for 1986’s In A Glass Cage, a film about a male nurse torturing an incapacitated former Nazi! It’s streaming on Tubi (US) or you can watch the whole thing on YouTube.
Don’t forget to catch up on our previous Horror Queers articles here or check out our podcast page here.
Editorials
Revisiting ‘Subspecies’: The Gothic Horror Gem That Created an Unforgettable Vampire
Auteur Filmmaking is a term that gets thrown around a lot these days in reference to big name directors like Quentin Tarantino and even Wes Anderson, but the truth is that film is a collective medium, and no one person can be responsible for every single aspect of a particular production. However, the smaller a film’s budget, the bigger the individual impact of every creative decision behind it – and the easier it becomes to identify a genuine auteur.
This isn’t necessarily a judgement of value, as blockbuster filmmaking comes with its own challenges and a good movie remains a miracle regardless of how big the crew is, but I’ve always been more interested in soulful b-movies produced by handfuls of passionate artists than blockbusters backed by creative armies.
That’s why I love exploring low-budget franchises that never left the hands of their original creators, as you really get to know the artists involved with these flicks and can accompany their evolution over a period of time. With that in mind, I’d like to invite readers to join me in this multi-part series as we look into a vampire saga helmed by one of the most fascinating auteurs of the 1990s. Naturally, I’m referring to Ted Nicolaou’s criminally underrated Subspecies!
The Birth of an Unlikely Horror Franchise

A proud graduate of the University of Texas’ Film program, Nicolaou got his start in the industry as a sound technician working on Tobe Hooper’s original Texas Chain Saw Massacre. From there, the filmmaker would go on to work for notorious indie producer Charles Band, the founder of both Empire Pictures and Full Moon Productions. According to Nicolaou, Band would usually contact him with an offer to direct a feature after more prominent filmmakers, such as the late, great Stuart Gordon, had already refused, meaning that his projects tended to have lower budgets and more inexperienced crew members.
The plans for Subspecies began almost immediately after the fall of Romanian dictator Nicolae Ceaușescu, with screenwriter David Pabian turning in an initial draft of the film after a Romanian producer contacted Band and explained that Romanian tax incentives could cover the cost of film production there so long as Full Moon took care of the post-production process. Since Stuart Gordon was unwilling to travel to Romania, Ted Nicolaou ended up taking over the picture.
However, while the financial incentives meant that this Romanian-American co-production could look and feel much more expensive than it really was, with Nicolaou scouting for locations in advance and selecting real castle ruins to be featured in the movie, the director was soon faced with an incredibly difficult shooting process. In interviews, Nicolaou would later describe the experience as something of a nightmare, with language barriers and the generalized distrust of capitalist outsiders sabotaging many of the team’s plans for the film.
In fact, the script, which had already been altered by Band, ultimately had portions of it rewritten by both Jack Canson and Nicolaou himself in an attempt to adapt the story to their unique limitations.
Radu Is One of Horror’s Greatest Underrated Villains

In the finished film, which was released directly to video in 1991, we follow a pair of American anthropology students, Michelle (Laura Mae Tate) and Lillian (Michelle McBride), as they reunite with their Romanian colleague Mara (Irina Movila) in her native land. The group intends to study the folklore surrounding the secluded town of Prejmer, but their research is cut short by the return of Radu Vladislas (Anders Hove) – the evil son of a vampire king (Angus Scrimm) who had previously established a truce with the region’s human residents. It’s now up to Radu’s human-loving half-brother Stefan (Michael Watson) to protect the girls from a fate worse than death as the power-hungry vampire seeks to control a magical artifact known as the Bloodstone.
Right off the bat, you may have noticed that the film’s premise sounds decidedly old-fashioned when compared to other vampire movies from around the same time. While the 1990s saw the rise of cool-looking bloodsuckers with badass elements borrowed from Westerns, as well as the sexy aristocrats of Anne Rice’s stories, Subspecies has a lot more in common with Nosferatu and the Hammer Horror series than any of its contemporaries.
This is both a blessing and a curse, as the film falls victim to overly familiar genre tropes while also standing out as a rare example of a ’90s vampire flick that isn’t afraid to flex its muscles as a Creature Feature. In fact, I’d argue that the presence of age-old clichés is a small price to pay when confronted with one of the most compelling vampire antagonists in all of cinema.
Named after Vlad the Impaler’s real-life brother, Anders Hove’s Radu is such a fascinating character and the main reason why Subspecies is still worth watching 35 years later. From his animalistic mannerisms to the joy he feels in simply existing as a chaotic creature of the night, and that’s not even mentioning the iconic makeup that almost certainly inspired the undead from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Radu is a hypnotic presence harkening back to a time when audiences didn’t mind purely evil villains that couldn’t be redeemed through tragic backstories or sex appeal.
Gothic Atmosphere on an Indie Budget

Of course, the film’s Romanian setting and authentic art direction do a lot of the heavy lifting whenever Radu isn’t around. From the masked festivals of the village to the visually interesting selection of local extras, Subspecies’ multicultural elements help it to stand out when compared to similar flicks from the ’90s.
That being said, Nicolaou’s unique eye for special effects and exciting action sequences – as well as Vlad Paunescu’s excellent cinematography – make the movie a delight for fans of expressionist cinema and old-timey gothic horror. While the crew is obviously dealing with limited resources, many of the flick’s blemishes (such as the odd stop-motion demons that serve Radu) end up feeling more like charming idiosyncrasies than actual flaws.
I’d argue that the only real issue here is pacing, as there are long stretches of film where the protagonists are simply bumbling around without realizing what’s really going on around them. Thankfully, the gorgeous visuals and surprisingly effective soundtrack usually make up for this. Besides, how can you dislike a movie where shotgun shells are loaded with rosary beads and our lead vampires duke it out in a dramatic swordfight that would feel out of place during the golden age of Hollywood?
Your overall enjoyment of Subspecies will mostly depend on whether or not you find low-budget corner-cutting and janky practical effects charming rather than distracting, but I know I’ll keep coming back to this Full Moon feature again and again in the future.
That being said, while this first movie is worth revisiting by its own merits as the birth of an indie horror icon, I’d like to invite you to join us as we look into the cult sequel Bloodstone: Subspecies II soon.
You must be logged in to post a comment.