We're back at the Universal Fruit & Nut Co.
The 11th week of queer things we’ve been up to and into—plus an exclusive announcement!
Swan Song written & directed by Todd Stephens. Since it came out in 2021, we had been wanting to watch this film about retired hairdresser Pat Pitsenbarger, who is languishing in a depressing hospital-green nursing home until he springs himself and his sad grey sweatsuit out for a day of adventure and closure. Our connective ah-ha moment wasn’t until about halfway through when we recognized Stephanie McVay from last week’s Edge of Seventeen and then nearly immediately spied that Mister Pat (played by the phenomenal character actor and gay icon Udo Kier) was walking into the VERY SAME Universal Fruit & Nut Co. bar that young Eric had found his gay-ass self in. We had to pause to quickly internet-confirm that, yes, it’s the SAME writer & director, the very same bar, the very same real-life location of Sandusky, Ohio (turns out little gay Todd Stephens grew up there), and the very same thoughtful consideration of queer life in a small middle-America city—this time from a new perspective: an old, lonely gay man who still has some life to process.
Stephens wove personal and real-life queer experiences into this bittersweet and emotional indie film (the third in his “Ohio Trilogy”), leaving us with all kinds of feels amidst the joy and humor (and appreciation for the supporting roles played by Jennifer Coolidge and Dynasty icon Linda Evans). We suspect you need to have some mileage on life to connect to the sad beauty and the hard humanity of Swan Song. (We are basing that statement on some infuriating internet reviews that did not understand or relate to anything about witnessing the last stage of a queer life.) Maybe you need to have loved a queer love, been betrayed by your community, lost everything you had, and been painfully alone—and avoided processing some or all of it while still being fierce and fabulous—to feel the cinematic gut punch Swan Song packs. We are both going to be unpacking and dealing with a lot of things that came up, from fearing end-of-life loneliness to watching retired hairdresser drama. (Amie’s mom was a life-long hairdresser until her untimely death at 52, so Amie was particularly bowled over by the perfect touches and expertly crafted layers portraying such a complexly intimate profession.) Maybe we’ll start by processing the flood of emotions that came while watching a dance floor of queer people surrounding Mister Pat as they all grooved to Robyn’s stellar song “Dancing on My Own.”
Harlem created by Tracy Oliver. Even though we had been keen to see Harlem after hearing good (and queer) things about it, when Rachel True joined the cast in season 2 and promoted the show, we quickly dove in (we’ll watch Rachel in anything). After tearing through both seasons, we can report that this show about four besties, who together create and share Black joy, made us laugh, smile, nod and shake our heads, and shout at the characters—which are all signs of effective sitcom writing. We were initially surprised we liked it so much because neither of us have ever been fans of popular sitcoms about friendship, but quickly realized that we enjoy sitcoms that are by and for marginalized communities (maybe because humanity is found and humor is honed through surviving a world that isn’t by or for us). Harlem serves plenty of drama alongside the joy of Angie, Quinn, Tye, and Camille as they navigate their ways through friendship, love, sex, family, careers, and racism (from microaggressions to the ongoing gentrification of Harlem). We don’t want to give away much about both the narrative and character storylines—just go watch it—but, of course, we have opinions about how much time and focus certain storylines are given or not given. Let’s just say, we have a lot of hopes and expectations for a Season 3, starting with: it better happen—and it better have more Rachel True.
Now, behold: It’s Heather’s book!
Yeah, we made you wait for this news—but you’re hearing and seeing it here first. A six-years-in-the-making moment has finally arrived: Heather’s first book cover is unveiled and the book is available for US and UK preorder!
Queer for Fear: Horror Film and the Queer Spectator by Heather O. Petrocelli. This book is the groundbreaking empirical study of the LGBTQ+ community that not only documents the opinions, habits, and tastes of the horror-loving queer spectator, but also evidences how and why queers have a distinctive relationship to the horror genre. The interdisciplinary study at the heart of Queer for Fear makes overdue and impactful empirical contributions to the fields of queer, horror, trauma, camp, and live cinema studies. The investigations and conclusions of this book not only affirm the place of the queer spectator of horror film in critical discourse, but also make visible and galvanize the diverse community of horror-loving queers.
We also want to take this moment to tell you more about the cover art. We are very proud to say this artwork is a collaboration between us, with Heather “commissioning” Amie to paint something that would be able to be used in the publisher’s horror series cover template. Heather’s creative brief to Amie was:
Infuse it with gothic and horror vibes
Represent queerness without use of the Pride flag or a literal rainbow
Relate it to film and movie-going without use of a film reel or showing a movie theatre or audience
Building on her Memento Mori painting practice, Amie riffed off a Herman Henstenburgh (Dutch, 1667–1726) vanitas still life painting in the public domain, which has a human skull adorned in a spray of flowers, accompanied on a plinth by a snuffed-out candle, a tipped-over hourglass, and a Beggar moth (Eubaphe mendica)—all common symbols used in this art tradition to represent death and the beauty of our fragile life. Amie explains her thought process while creating this piece:
Nothing is more gothic and horror-esque than a skull, so I thought that would be the perfect visual anchor to this composition, which I would situate on a classic red velvet movie theatre seat. In painting flowers as an integral part of my practice, I always engage with flowers through their fragility and seasonality, as well as their meaning to us humans. Instead of replicating the flowers that Henstenburgh had painted, I integrated flowers that have meaning to and representation for the queer community. Violets as a longtime symbol of sapphic / lesbian love. Green carnations have long been a visual identifier for gay men, a signifier started by our gay elder Oscar Wilde. Pansies represent the history of queer resilience and reclamation. Lavender is a symbol of queer resistance (Lavender Menace forever!). And roses are for our beautiful trans* and gender-nonconforming siblings. The snuffed-out candle stands in for all of our queer elders and trans siblings who we have lost to violence, neglect, and illness. A spilled popcorn bucket, with popcorn (our all-time favorite snack) strewn across the composition, is meant to show raucous queer joy—the chaos and revelry that happens when queer people come together, especially in a movie theatre.
We also want to give a shout-out to our friends and design dyke comrades, Audrey and Laurel, who helped make the cover design even better by providing exacting adjustments and very detailed notes on the layout to make it the very best it could be. It takes a queer village to make a great book cover—and we would not have it any other way.
Since Queer for Fear is an academic book, it comes with an academic book price tag (ugh), but you can preorder Queer for Fear now with one of these exclusive discount codes:
Preorder in the US with the discount code: UCPNEW
Preorder in the UK with the discount code: QF20
If you aren’t able to spend that much on a book even with the discount (we understand!)—or want to double support—go request that your local and/or university library order it. Library orders will not only support the book’s sales (which can help us get more book projects in the future), but also ensure that as many horror-loving queerdos as possible can have access and know that they are not alone.
Heather is glad to answer any questions you have about Queer for Fear, so send a note to queerforfear@gmail.com.
Heather
One of the joys of doing a project like The Queerest Year is getting to “meet” new and interesting people from all over, especially since our world has felt limited since the pandemic and our resulting health crises. One recent connection was with Ria from Canterbury, UK, who wrote to tell us about her band Karnstein (IYKYK) and serial comic that is inspired by Sheridan Le Fanu’s Carmilla, the mother of lesbian vampires. As you should know by now, I love all things queer horror, so I was in when Ria told us that Karnstein uses “classic horror motifs (primarily vampires) to explore queer subjects.” She also explained that Karnstein’s latest EP “was all about exploring gender dysphoria and experiences of discrimination through the lens of gothic horror tales such as Frankenstein and The Wolfman.” While gothic/black/death/doom metal isn’t for everyone, I personally have always been inclined towards music that sounds like it is slowly rising from some death muck to stake its claim on my soul. I’m particularly drawn to their song “To Become,” which I’m pretty sure opened a queer gateway to hell after I listened to it a bunch of times—and I couldn’t be happier about it. You can find Karnstein’s music and the Carmilla comic here.
Amie
One Last Stop by Casey McQuiston. After the surprising delight of my first queer romance novel, thanks to Joe Fejeran’s visit to The Roundtable, I went back for seconds. McQuiston’s sophomore book did not disappoint—and they again exceeded my expectations. I was so happy to spend hours in the company of August and her new queerdo chosen family and in the magical setting of Brooklyn, NY. The premise is creative, the characters are all endearing, the queer history is spot-on, and the sex is sexy (my only complaint being, due to a key part of the premise, there is not enough of it). One Last Stop satisfied my need for escape and didn’t challenge my brain (hey, we all gotta have a mix of ways of surviving this fascist hellscape), while being thoughtful and progressive. What more could I want? Oh, well, definitely a film adaptation, please and thank you.