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The Queer Horror of “Chucky”: Episode 2.05 – “Doll on Doll”

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Each week Joe Lipsett will highlight a key scene or interaction in S02 of Don Mancini’s Chucky series to consider how the show is engaging with and contributing to queer horror.

With episode 2.05 “Doll on Doll,” “Chucky” transitions into the back half of its second season; from a queer perspective, this is a relatively slight episode. So in place of an obvious topic, let’s use this opportunity to look at an unusual case of queer equality.

To get the ball rolling, let’s check in on the contentious state of Jake (Zackary Arthur) and Devon (Björgvin Arnarson)’s relationship. In past editorials, I’ve already explored how groundbreaking the pre-teen romance is, principally thanks to its sweet, age-appropriate, grounded depiction.

While Jake and Devon expressed their romantic interest in one another relatively early in S01 and stayed pretty solid, S02 has been…rockier. First because of Jake’s foster situation and, more recently, thanks to a disagreement about how to handle the appearance of new Chuckys at the School of Incarnate Lord.

Things kinda/sorta come to a head in “Doll on Doll” when Devon protests Jake’s suggestion that Good Guy Chucky is actually reformed following his aversion therapy in S02E03. Devon is frustrated that Jake is overlooking their history with the doll, which is a fair claim considering Chucky has single-handedly killed everyone in their respective families. Jake’s turn towards forgiveness has also happened very quickly this season, so it’s a little easier to side with Devon here (It should be said, though: in Jake’s defence, Good Guy Chucky did save them from Hulk Chucky).

Still, the petty disagreements and sniping at each other this season has felt a little forced; at times, it has felt like the couple are fighting simply because the narrative demands it. This friction between the pair has admittedly produced some interesting results, most significantly here when Devon and Lexy (Alyvia Alyn Lind), two characters who rarely spend time alone together, go off solo to explore the woods.

So what’s queer about this? Nothing really…and that’s what makes it interesting. The tension in Jake and Devon’s relationship actually feels more reminiscent of an endless number of straight sitcoms and dramas when the writers introduce artificial conflict into a previously happy relationship. This is often done out of fear that audiences will lose interest in a couple once they get together and typically follows a season of “will they/won’t they” false starts. The prevailing belief appears to be that audiences can’t accept a happy couple; according to traditional storytelling techniques, couples are only interesting if there’s conflict in the relationship (no happiness please!).

Ironically, this somewhat frustrating narrative development between Jake and Devon can also be seen as a strange kind of queer equality. For too long queer representation was villainous, predatory or inflammatory. More recently the morality dial has swung to the other side, where queer representation has to be immaculate, perfect and without any kind flaws.

Consider the queer outrage over Netflix’s use of the LGBT tag on Netflix’s “Dahmer” which emerged because a gay serial killer isn’t “the representation we want.” That protest is uncomfortable not only because it seeks to erase the fact that Dahmer is inherently part of queer history, but also conflates representation with “good” or “positive.”

Obviously if the historical representation of a marginalized community is pervasively negative, damaging and/or stereotypical, it’s worth keeping an eye on. But we’re living in a day and age with no shortage of diverse and nuanced LGBTQIA texts to consume across screens both big and small, which means that there is absolutely room for imperfect and messed-up characters who don’t always do the right thing.

Which brings us back to “Chucky.” Rather than fret about embodying the perfect pre-teen queer romance, “Chucky” is content to let Jake and Devon be a bit messy and dramatic about their relationship. While Devon and Jake ‘s recent rocky patch may not be the happy fairytale we hoped for in the first season, their behavior is a) appropriate for kids their age, and b) adheres to the traditional (admittedly formulaic) approach that’s frequently used in straight couple storylines.

Considering how media literate “Chucky” is, audiences probably should have anticipated that the show’s writers would take the relationship in this direction.

Despite this, it still needs to be said: Get your shit together, boys! You’ve got much bigger problems to be concerned about!

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.

Editorials

‘Amityville Karen’ Is a Weak Update on ‘Serial Mom’ [Amityville IP]

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Amityville Karen horror

Twice a month Joe Lipsett will dissect a new Amityville Horror film to explore how the “franchise” has evolved in increasingly ludicrous directions. This is “The Amityville IP.”

A bizarre recurring issue with the Amityville “franchise” is that the films tend to be needlessly complicated. Back in the day, the first sequels moved away from the original film’s religious-themed haunted house storyline in favor of streamlined, easily digestible concepts such as “haunted lamp” or “haunted mirror.”

As the budgets plummeted and indie filmmakers capitalized on the brand’s notoriety, it seems the wrong lessons were learned. Runtimes have ballooned past the 90-minute mark and the narratives are often saggy and unfocused.

Both issues are clearly on display in Amityville Karen (2022), a film that starts off rough, but promising, and ends with a confused whimper.

The promise is embodied by the tinge of self-awareness in Julie Anne Prescott (The Amityville Harvest)’s screenplay, namely the nods to John Waters’ classic 1994 satire, Serial Mom. In that film, Beverly Sutphin (an iconic Kathleen Turner) is a bored, white suburban woman who punished individuals who didn’t adhere to her rigid definition of social norms. What is “Karen” but a contemporary equivalent?

In director/actor Shawn C. Phillips’ film, Karen (Lauren Francesca) is perpetually outraged. In her introductory scenes, she makes derogatory comments about immigrants, calls a female neighbor a whore, and nearly runs over a family blocking her driveway. She’s a broad, albeit familiar persona; in many ways, she’s less of a character than a caricature (the living embodiment of the name/meme).

These early scenes also establish a fairly straightforward plot. Karen is a code enforcement officer with plans to shut down a local winery she has deemed disgusting. They’re preparing for a big wine tasting event, which Karen plans to ruin, but when she steals a bottle of cursed Amityville wine, it activates her murderous rage and goes on a killing spree.

Simple enough, right?

Unfortunately, Amityville Karen spins out of control almost immediately. At nearly every opportunity, Prescott’s screenplay eschews narrative cohesion and simplicity in favour of overly complicated developments and extraneous characters.

Take, for example, the wine tasting event. The film spends an entire day at the winery: first during the day as a band plays, then at a beer tasting (???) that night. Neither of these events are the much touted wine-tasting, however; that is actually a private party happening later at server Troy (James Duval)’s house.

Weirdly though, following Troy’s death, the party’s location is inexplicably moved to Karen’s house for the climax of the film, but the whole event plays like an afterthought and features a litany of characters we have never met before.

This is a recurring issue throughout Amityville Karen, which frequently introduces random characters for a scene or two. Karen is typically absent from these scenes, which makes them feel superfluous and unimportant. When the actress is on screen, the film has an anchor and a narrative drive. The scenes without her, on the other hand, feel bloated and directionless (blame editor Will Collazo Jr., who allows these moments to play out interminably).

Compounding the issue is that the majority of the actors are non-professionals and these scenes play like poorly performed improv. The result is long, dull stretches that features bad actors talking over each other, repeating the same dialogue, and generally doing nothing to advance the narrative or develop the characters.

While Karen is one-note and histrionic throughout the film, at least there’s a game willingness to Francesca’s performance. It feels appropriately campy, though as the film progresses, it becomes less and less clear if Amityville Karen is actually in on the joke.

Like Amityville Cop before it, there are legit moments of self-awareness (the Serial Mom references), but it’s never certain how much of this is intentional. Take, for example, Karen’s glaringly obvious wig: it unconvincingly fails to conceal Francesca’s dark hair in the back, but is that on purpose or is it a technical error?

Ultimately there’s very little to recommend about Amityville Karen. Despite the game performance by its lead and the gentle homages to Serial Mom’s prank call and white shoes after Labor Day jokes, the never-ending improv scenes by non-professional actors, the bloated screenplay, and the jittery direction by Phillips doom the production.

Clocking in at an insufferable 100 minutes, Amityville Karen ranks among the worst of the “franchise,” coming in just above Phillips’ other entry, Amityville Hex.

Amityville Karen

The Amityville IP Awards go to…

  • Favorite Subplot: In the afternoon event, there’s a self-proclaimed “hot boy summer” band consisting of burly, bare-chested men who play instruments that don’t make sound (for real, there’s no audio of their music). There’s also a scheming manager who is skimming money off the top, but that’s not as funny.
  • Least Favorite Subplot: For reasons that don’t make any sense, the winery is also hosting a beer tasting which means there are multiple scenes of bartender Alex (Phillips) hoping to bring in women, mistakenly conflating a pint of beer with a “flight,” and goading never before seen characters to chug. One of them describes the beer as such: “It looks like a vampire menstruating in a cup” (it’s a gold-colored IPA for the record, so…no).
  • Amityville Connection: The rationale for Karen’s killing spree is attributed to Amityville wine, whose crop was planted on cursed land. This is explained by vino groupie Annie (Jennifer Nangle) to band groupie Bianca (Lilith Stabs). It’s a lot of nonsense, but it is kind of fun when Annie claims to “taste the damnation in every sip.”
  • Neverending Story: The film ends with an exhaustive FIVE MINUTE montage of Phillips’ friends posing as reporters in front of terrible green screen discussing the “killer Karen” story. My kingdom for Amityville’s regular reporter Peter Sommers (John R. Walker) to return!
  • Best Line 1: Winery owner Dallas (Derek K. Long), describing Karen: “She’s like a walking constipation with a hemorrhoid”
  • Best Line 2: Karen, when a half-naked, bleeding woman emerges from her closet: “Is this a dream? This dream is offensive! Stop being naked!”
  • Best Line 3: Troy, upset that Karen may cancel the wine tasting at his house: “I sanded that deck for days. You don’t just sand a deck for days and then let someone shit on it!”
  • Worst Death: Karen kills a Pool Boy (Dustin Clingan) after pushing his head under water for literally 1 second, then screeches “This is for putting leaves on my plants!”
  • Least Clear Death(s): The bodies of a phone salesman and a barista are seen in Karen’s closet and bathroom, though how she killed them are completely unclear
  • Best Death: Troy is stabbed in the back of the neck with a bottle opener, which Karen proceeds to crank
  • Wannabe Lynch: After drinking the wine, Karen is confronted in her home by Barnaby (Carl Solomon) who makes her sign a crude, hand drawn blood contract and informs her that her belly is “pregnant from the juices of his grapes.” Phillips films Barnaby like a cross between the unhoused man in Mulholland Drive and the Mystery Man in Lost Highway. It’s interesting, even if the character makes absolutely no sense.
  • Single Image Summary: At one point, a random man emerges from the shower in a towel and excitedly poops himself. This sequence perfectly encapsulates the experience of watching Amityville Karen.
  • Pray for Joe: Many of these folks will be back in Amityville Shark House and Amityville Webcam, so we’re not out of the woods yet…

Next time: let’s hope Christmas comes early with 2022’s Amityville Christmas Vacation. It was the winner of Fangoria’s Best Amityville award, after all!

Amityville Karen movie

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