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The Queer Horror of “Chucky”: Episode 6 – “Cape Queer”

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Each week Joe Lipsett will highlight a key scene or interaction in Don Mancini’s Chucky series to consider how the show is engaging with and contributing to queer horror.

Chucky continues to be a wild ride from week to week. As Meagan noted in last week’s review, the series does seem to be shifting (alternating?) between Jake (Zackary Arthur) and Chucky (Brad Dourif) as protagonists, and overall the series is only getting busier this week as Andy (Alex Wheeler) and Kyle (Christine Elise) join the fray.

What I’m appreciating about the series, though, is that time is still being dedicated to the small emotional beats of the core pre-teen cast. Chucky began as a queer teen’s story and while the story is obviously getting bigger and more sensational, the character moments that land the best in “Cape Queer” are centered in this queer coming of age tale. Not that seeing Tiffany (Jennifer Tilly) scaring a realtor off or Andy and Kyle re-enacting Pulp Fiction isn’t great, but it has a completely different vibe and impact.

“Cape Queer” is pretty obviously centered around a pair of mothers and the relationship they share with their son. After last week’s reveal that Bree (Lexa Doig) has terminal cancer, this week we get to see her come clean to Junior (Teo Briones) in a tearful moment…and then get brutally dispatched by Chucky in a nice callback to both Bride of Chucky and Cult of Chucky.

CHUCKY — “Cape Queer” Episode 106 — Pictured in this screengrab: (l-r) Lexa Doig as Bree Wheeler, Teo Briones as Junior Wheeler — (Photo by: SYFY/USA Network)

The other mother/son pair is the one I’ll focus the rest of this editorial on, because although Devon (Björgvin Arnarson)’s detective mother (played by Rachelle Casseus) is terrible at her job, she’s a pretty great mother to a LGBT kid.

In earlier episodes, we’ve seen Devon dance around his sexuality with his mom. Back in episode two, there’s a pretty clear indication that Detective Evans knows about her son’s queer status, but she doesn’t force the issue or prompt Devon to come out. While her concerns about Jake negatively impact her relationship with Devon for the next few episodes, it’s pretty great to see Detective Evans and Devon have a heart to heart in this episode about his feelings for Jake.

One of the most modern elements of this particular scene is how Devon doesn’t ever actually come out. He never actually self-identifies his sexual orientation and Detective Evans doesn’t press the issue; she merely inquires if Jake is the one that Devon has feelings for. It’s a very contemporary approach to coming out: some queer youth opt not to label themselves at all, while others don’t feel the need to “make a big deal” out of declaring who they are and who they’re attracted to. The days of taking over the cover of People to declare your sexuality are long gone; now it’s just a normal conversation.

Alas just like with Bree, this bonding moment is merely a precursor to Detective Evans getting killed off later in the episode, which puts a capper on any kind of emotional growth the pair could have had. But as an anti-thesis to the traditional “coming out” scene we’ve seen (and in contrast by Jake’s own experience back in episode one when his father literally beat him for being queer), this is quietly powerful and compelling. 

RIP Detective Evans: at least you got to know who your son really is before you took that fatal tumble down the stairs.


Chucky airs Tuesdays on Syfy and USA Network. For more coverage, see Meagan’s review of episode six.

Joe is a TV addict with a background in Film Studies. He co-created TV/Film Fest blog QueerHorrorMovies and writes for Bloody Disgusting, Anatomy of a Scream, That Shelf, The Spool and Grim Magazine. He enjoys graphic novels, dark beer and plays multiple sports (adequately, never exceptionally). While he loves all horror, if given a choice, Joe always opts for slashers and creature features.

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Editorials

Forgotten ’80s Satanic Panic Horror Gem ‘The Kiss’ Is Worth Rediscovering

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Joanna Pacula is Felice Dunbar in The Kiss

Horror was thriving so well in the 1980s that movies like Pen Densham’s The Kiss (1988) would understandably get lost in the shuffle, only to then gain their fans later on in life. Even still, this one Canadian-American curio has had a more challenging time than others, as far as contemporary reevaluations go, which is very likely due to the movie’s limited availability—at least as of this write-up.

However, the scarceness of The Kiss, while a bit annoying, makes it like catnip for ‘80s horror completists everywhere. Hopefully, a lot of them will walk away satisfied after watching this hidden gem.

Even though The Kiss was intended as the first of several horror collaborations between Astral Pictures and TriStar, as well as the first feature produced by Densham, Richard B. Lewis and John Watson’s Trilogy Entertainment Group, it ended up being the only one produced from that former union. Once the movie was released, TriStar’s distribution jitters—they opted for a regional rollout—did the $6-million flick no favors. TriStar’s cold feet toward horror releases have been well noted, but The Kiss still did a tad better than Night of the Creeps (1986), another genre outing that flopped due to its regional opening.

Shot in Montreal, but set in Albany, New York, The Kiss—which was still called The Host just a few months before its October premiere—concerns an average middle-class family and their forthcoming situation. The uncanny problem in store for them was, in fact, set in motion some years earlier. As that hot and dusty flashback to the Belgian Congo shows, a familial curse was set upon the two Dunbar sisters well before Meredith Salenger’s teenage character was born.

the kiss

Meredith Salenger, Nicholas Kilbertus and Mimi Kuzyk in The Kiss

The Kiss, which was based on a story by co-writer Stephen Volk (Ghostwatch) and penned by both Volk and Tom Ropelewski, has the outward appearance of The Stepfather (1987). This movie, though, is anything but a gender-flipped retread of that classic domestic disturber. For starters, The Kiss is far less grounded in reality—that much is clear from its unsettling opening scene. There, a trusting girl (Priscilla Mouzakiotis) is the victim of her own deceptive aunt (Céline Lomez); the movie’s titular act, and the story’s first shock, becomes the means of transferring an ancient evil from one host to another.

In the present day, Salenger’s role of Amy Halloran, a religious schoolgirl, is dealt a harsh blow in life once her mother, Hilary Halloran née Dunbar (Pamela Collyer), suddenly dies in a freak accident. But rather than a complete stranger sweeping the Halloran widower (Nicholas Kilbertus) off his feet some months later, Joanna Pacula’s character is that chosen temptress. Here, Pacula plays the grown-up version of the afflicted girl last seen in the movie’s opener. Since Amy’s mother is insistent about there being no reunion between estranged sisters, and she even contemplates buying a gun shortly before her tragic demise, it’s presumable that Aunt Felice poses a threat to her family.

The Kiss isn’t a movie ever too concerned about its own predictability. The audience is indeed often one step ahead of the story here, but also keep in mind how every one of those steps is loud. Take, for instance, the death of Amy’s mother; the Halloran matriarch goes out in garish, gruesome fashion, as a supernaturally commandeered truck sends Collyer’s character through a store window first, then leaves her one leg short. The directorial enthusiasm truly comes out in horrific moments such as these.

The Kiss is always sure to revel in its characters’ ills and misfortunes. So if the plot doesn’t impress, then its lurid parts should. Amy’s mother’s exit scene was proof of an eager, first-time horror director proving his worth. Then, bestie Heather (Sabrina Boudot) survives to tell the tale of a bizarre escalator mishap that, despite showing relatively less gore, spikes viewers’ empathy meter. The wilder bits of this movie, however, commence with that inevitable hookup between Felice and Amy’s bewitched father; their kitchen coitus is paralleled by Amy’s feverish classroom terror. The outcome there is a disquieting cross-cut of sex magic and a young woman’s menstrual onset plus hallucinations.

Sabrina Boudot in The Kiss

From foam appliances to bladders, that parade of special effects in The Kiss casts its own spell on the audience. Felice’s familiar, a visibly malevolent cat, was realized here with several models, some more articulate than others. Admittedly, the demon cat’s not as convincing as most of the effects here, but accepting that artifice, as opposed to fighting it, will make the whole experience way more enjoyable. As for the makeup used to manifest Felice’s inner villainy, it is more minimal and subtle than one might like; yet the work done to turn Pacula into an antithesis of herself is nonetheless compelling.

The otherworldly perils and dreadful goings-on wouldn’t work half as well as they do in The Kiss without the story’s contrast effect. Finding frights in picturesque, extremely ordinary settings was something that took off in the ‘80s, thanks to that sweeping shift to locales like the suburbs. And Amy’s home, a replica of a real Montreal suburban house, is the ideal battleground for any proper good-versus-evil story. It’s also prime real estate for this movie’s satanic panic-inspired horrors.

Because of their ostensibly similar plots, The Kiss has been compared to The Exorcist (1973). Except in Densham’s movie, the sinister, non-Christian entity targeting a teen girl lies within something less apparent and, perhaps, more devastating upon its exposure. To an outsider, Pacula’s Aunt Felice is too beautiful and unobjectionable to ever suspect of being a monster. More suspicious is how quickly she rips into the fabric of the Halloran home. Felice’s mere presence upsets the “texture of family life,” according to the director.

the kiss

The demon cat in The Kiss

Taking out Amy’s mother and best friend, and distracting her father, would suggest The Kiss is playing by a different set of rules. It is initially leaving its adolescent target unsupported in a rather grim scenario. In contrast, though, this story offers up a surrogate parent who does her best to fill in the holes of Amy’s eroding home life. Mimi Kuzyk does good work as that family friend and doctor, Brenda, who guides the lost child without also steering her in any one direction; she is naturally skeptical of Amy’s accusations until it’s almost too late to do anything about them. So although The Kiss does an admirable job of undoing the main character’s support system, it never leaves her without a lifeline. This dark movie, in spite of everything that’s transpired, doesn’t deprive itself of light and hope.

The Kiss is a potent mélange of familiar ideas. If not for the director’s surprise flair for horror, though, the movie would have been less effective. What a shame that Pen Densham didn’t continue with the genre. As for Joanna Pacula, she is, too, owed credit as the wicked vixen opposite Meredith Salenger’s pitiable Amy; she never fails to be unsettling in her role. Pacula makes Aunt Felice a sexy yet intimidating character.

For horror that steadily doles out madness and menace, while also delivering a flashy and ghastly conclusion, The Kiss is certain to please. Yes, it’s cheesy all the way, but most favorably, everyone involved plays everything straight. That kind of commitment goes a long way with this movie.

The Kiss

The Kiss

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