[“Freaky” offers liberating and honest portraits of young
women and queer people, free from tokenism and broad generalizations
to which the genre can often resort.] [[link removed]]

PORTSIDE CULTURE

HOW ‘FREAKY’ EVOKES QUEER AND FEMINIST POWER BENEATH A SLASHER
SURFACE  
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Matt Donnelly
December 4, 2020
Variety
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_ “Freaky” offers liberating and honest portraits of young women
and queer people, free from tokenism and broad generalizations to
which the genre can often resort. _

, Courtesy of Universal Pictures

 

The horror genre loves its tropes — sets of rules that dictate
survival based on stereotypes around morality, class, race, gender and
sexual orientation.

Much of the game in modern horror comes in examining and subverting
those tropes, perhaps none so recent and notable as “Freaky
[[link removed]],” Christopher Landon
[[link removed]]’s body-swap film from
Universal Pictures that hits PVOD on Friday.

Dressed up as a gory comedy, “Freaky” offers liberating and honest
portraits of young women and queer people, free from tokenism and
broad generalizations to which the genre can often resort.

In “Freaky,” a struggling teen girl Millie (Kathryn Newton
[[link removed]]) and a menacing serial killer
(Vince Vaughn [[link removed]]) switch bodies
thanks to a supernatural artifact. Now trapped in the killer’s
flesh, Millie races against a clock to reverse the effects before
she’s stuck forever, aided by best friends Nyla (Celeste O’Connor)
and Josh (Misha Osherovich [[link removed]]).

_WARNING: SPOILERS AHEAD FOR “FREAKY.” _

From its opening sequence — in which a group of partying teens
establish the myth of Vaughn’s serial killer, the Blissfield Butcher
— Landon and co-screenwriter Michael Kennedy signal their desire to
subvert expectations.

A blonde girl having sex with her boyfriend bails on the interlude
once she’s achieved her own satisfaction, leaving her lover in the
lurch. He deals with it as instructed, shortly before both meet an
untimely end at the hands of Vaughn. We soon meet Nyla, a Black high
school student who stands out as the thought leader of the group, and
Josh, an out gay character who shows equal parts cynicism and heart.

“The auditions that I get are characters written specifically for
Black people, which can feel like tokens or caricatures of Black
people, or roles you can tell were written for white people. The
descriptions will say stuff like ‘urban accent,'” O’Connor
told _Variety_ about Nyla. “I knew the character Nyla was written
as a Black character, but that was one aspect of her identity that the
script simply mentioned and then moved on. It wasn’t central to her
personality, which I thought was really refreshing.”

Osherovich, who identifies as gender non-binary and prefers they/them
pronouns, says playing Josh felt not just like an accurate
representation of queer youth, but a subversive commentary from their
screenwriters on how horror can treat that community.

“My character is a gay best friend, but also a commentary on the gay
best friend,” Osherovich said, referencing one of Josh’s marquee
jokes included in trailers and TV spots for the film. Josh and Nyla
are running in terror from Vaughn, unaware their friend Millie is
actually trying to explain the freak accident.

“You’re Black, I’m gay, we are so dead!” Josh screams.

Too often, gay characters meet brutal ends in filmed content (known as
the “Bury Your Gays” problem
[[link removed]]),
as do people of color, specifically in horror. But for Josh and Nyla,
Osherovich says, “there are many times when we rise to the occasion
and display real humanity, because we’re real people who care deeply
about our friend Millie. We’re not just jammed-in characters.”

Landon, whose resume includes the profitable “Happy Death Day”
franchise at Blumhouse and the pitch-black indie “Burning Palms,”
says the script for “Freaky” in many ways fulfilled his and
Kennedy’s wishes as queer young men.

“Michael and I were both closeted queer kids in high school, and for
us there was a certain fantasy and wish fulfillment, but also
something full circle. For us to be able to write a character like
Josh, who is out and comfortable. I was grateful that Universal and
Blumhouse didn’t blink,” Landon said.

He recalled an experience on his 2015 film “Scouts Guide to the
Zombie Apocalypse,” a Paramount Pictures release that contained some
queer references, but was “less overt,” Landon said.

“I had a gay zombie who did a Britney Spears singalong with the
scouts. I remember getting pushback for it at the studio, someone
said, ‘Why are you putting so much gay shit in this movie?’ This
executive and I were very comfortable with each other, and I don’t
think this person was being homophobic, but they had never encountered
such things in studio fare. I feel like that’s not something I would
necessarily hear today. I’m hopeful things are changing and that
people want to see more representation,” said Landon.

Examples of this authenticity for queer people are plenty in
“Freaky.” A gag from Josh about the lack of eligible men in his
town leads to a Grindr profile of a grizzly older man rocking leather
fetish gear, who is revealed as the town mail carrier. In a later
scene, he resurfaces delivering mail to Millie’s mother, where he
appears empathetic to the loss of her husband and Millie’s father.

“It was important to reinforce the idea that people have dignity,
and are not just sexualized creatures,” Landon said.

Another pivotal scene comes when Josh, who early in the film expresses
a desire to meet “sexually fluid straight boys” at a high school
dance, is cornered by a drunk jock before the film’s climax. The boy
in question is surly and repressed, calling Josh a homophobic slur
when his advances are refused. It’s the kind of moment that other
queer-centric horror like Ryan Murphy’s “American Horror Story:
1984” might have let play much longer and steamier before exposing
its toxicity.

“Everyone wanted to see Gus Kenworthy in an aerobics class, so kudos
to Ryan Murphy for always coming through with everyone’s fantasy,”
Landon said of “AHS: 1984” and its half-naked Olympian. “But
when we were writing the scene with [Josh and the drunk jock], there
was a fork in the road and we could have easily made it about him
finally getting what he wants. But he’s on a mission to save his
friend. We wanted him as a character to always be on a moral high
road, and we wanted him to call this guy out, especially when he calls
him a f—–.”

The film’s portrait of young women is just as liberating, the stars
said. As an up-and-coming actor, O’Connor was thrilled when she
arrived to her first day of costume fittings for “Freaky’ and saw
her wardrobe.

“Nyla’s outfits were all of these bright colors and patterns,
overalls and pants. I was so excited about the pants because I really
did not want to be sexualized. I feel like so many horror movies rely
on stereotypes around femininity, and sexualizing women,” she says.

Newton calls the project “an honest representation of the world
we’re living in now.” “Speaking of tropes, my character Millie,
you see her and think, ‘Why would this girl think she’s not good
enough?’ There’s so much going on in a person’s life, and it’s
important to know that everyone has things they’re going through.”

While she plays a smart-and-sweet Millie, Newton shines as a comedic
actress and action star when portraying the Blissfield Butcher in her
own body. Clad in blood-red leather and slaughtering toxic jocks and
mean girls, she evokes the power of great horror heroines while never
forgetting to remind us she’s a murderous villain.

“By being outside her body and looking at herself, Millie gets to
see how great she is. She knows what she’s capable of, and isn’t
going to let anyone mess with her,” says Newton.

Screen veteran Vaughn also came with an open mind, and a willingness
to learn. Newton said the pair worked tirelessly studying one
another’s mannerisms to make sure their portrayals were sensitive.
Osherovich recalled a pivotal van ride from set, where Vaughn asked
them about their non-binary journey.

“At the time, I still identified as he/him and I was just starting
to come to terms with my non-binary identity. Vince asked a lot of
questions. He’s a really curious guy, and he really gave me the
floor to talk about my queerness, growing up in a super conservative
Russian family,” they recalled. “I could see him processing in a
way he hadn’t before. It felt like such a gift that somebody older
and established, and a straight white male, was actively interested in
learning about. It was ridiculously empowering for me, and I don’t
even think he knows that.”

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