- Horror Movie - Horror Homeroom

Posted on June 16, 2025

Your Body is Naught but a Vessel: Racial Fetishization and Gendered Violence in Moreno-Garcia’s Mexican Gothic and Peele’s Get Out

Guest Post

Ava DeVries

In the horror genre, scholars tend to view gendered violence as solely a women’s issue—the victims are so often young (white) women, and the crazed axe murderers are so often (white) men. When the opposite is true, it’s considered subversive or even feminist. Similarly, analyses of feminist horror are frequently filtered through a white lens, ignoring intersectional perspectives. In recent years, however, more and more horror has been produced by creators from historically underrepresented backgrounds, who use the genre to comment on the intersections of race and gender.

One such author is Silvia Moreno-Garcia, whose novel Mexican Gothic was published in 2020.¹ The story is set in 1950s Mexico and follows Noemí Taboada, who receives a letter from her recently married cousin, Catalina, claiming that her husband has been poisoning her. Noemí decides to visit Catalina and her husband Virgil Doyle, who live with his eugenics-obsessed family of British expats. Eventually, she discovers that the Doyle house is overrun with a network of fungus which the family’s patriarch, Howard, has used to transfer his consciousness into the bodies of his children, allowing him to live for centuries. The family’s symbiotic relationship with the fungus requires their bloodline to stay “isolated” through inbreeding, but they now need to procreate outside the family—with Catalina or Noemí—to continue birthing viable children (Moreno-Garcia 213-15).

Posted on November 6, 2022

Jordan Peele’s Nope, Spectacle, and Surveillance

Guest Post

Film is a medium for conveying a director’s message. In the last five years, Jordan Peele has directed three horror films – Get Out (2017), Us (2019), and Nope (2022) – that are each infused with a message (indeed, many messages). Get Out was a commentary on casual racism in the contemporary US; the film Us focused on social class and the “underground’ existence of the oppressed, but what does Jordan Peele say in Nope? Nope is many things – and one of them is a comment on modern surveillance culture in America.

Nope takes place between 1998 and the early 2000s on a horse ranch just north of Los Angeles, California. There are four main characters in the film, Emerald Haywood (Keke Palmer), OJ Haywood (Daniel Kaluuya), Ricky “Jupe” Park (Steven Yeun), and a giant UFO. The plot centers on the characters’ efforts to get footage of the UFO to prove its existence to an inevitably skeptical public. It is this intended exploitation of the UFO, central to the film, that symbolizes surveillance culture in the United States.

Posted on March 25, 2021

Cosmic Slop: Before Peele Remade The Twilight Zone

Guest Post

With the rise of Jordan Peele’s Twilight Zone (2019-20) and Misha Green’s Lovecraft Country (2020), we are hopefully entering a golden age of Black horror TV, following decades in which the genre was marked by a lack of diversity. An exception appeared in 1994, however, in the three-part HBO horror/sci fi anthology, Cosmic Slop.

While Cosmic Slop was a unique example of a Black horror anthology made for TV in the nineties, it was not an isolated work of the genre. As Robin R. Means Coleman outlines, the nineties did give rise to numerous, albeit underfunded, Black horror films. Means Coleman makes the distinction between the labels “Blacks in horror” and “Black horror,” with the former indicating films about Black people but often lacking knowledge or political acuity and the latter comprising films created by Black people and that draw knowledgeably on “Black folklore, histories, and culture” while speaking to Black anxieties, aesthetics and viewpoints. Read more

Posted on March 15, 2021

What’s Wrong with Candyman: Farewell to the Flesh?

Dawn Keetley

After the success of 1992’s Candyman (directed by Bernard Rose), a sequel was inevitable. The 1995 Candyman: Farewell to the Flesh was directed by Bill Condon, who would go on to write and direct the acclaimed 1998 film, Gods and Monsters. Despite Condon’s later success, Farewell to the Flesh only makes it strikingly clear how badly we need the upcoming “spiritual sequel” to Candyman written by Jordan Peele and directed by Nia DaCosta. DaCosta’s Candyman will pick up from the 1992 original film, ignoring the sequels from 1995 and 1999—not a bad choice.

While the original Candyman has received—and deserves—much praise, it is not without its problems. In Horror Noire (2011), Robin Means Coleman has pointed out that Rose’s Candyman gives the white protagonist Helen Lyle (Virginia Madsen) and, indeed, all whites a pass: “Rather, he punishes Blacks” (189). And, in the end, Helen Lyle proves herself the hero of her own story and destroys Candyman (Tony Todd), emerging herself as the powerful monster poised to move the narrative forward. Again, as Means Coleman has pointed out, “this is a movie about celebrating White womanhood.” Candyman himself, she continues, “disappears along with the history of racism he brings. It is all about Helen as she becomes monstrous” (190).

Posted on November 24, 2020

Black Mold, Hodgson’s “The Voice in the Night,” and Peele’s Get Out

Dawn Keetley

Black mold is spreading through contemporary popular culture: Mark Samuels’ short story, “The Black Mould” (2011), Jill Ciment’s novel, Act of God (2015), Osgood Perkins’ film I Am the Pretty Thing That Lives in the House (2016), Ben Aaronovitch’s graphic novel from the Rivers of London series, Black Mould (2017), Jac Jemc’s novel, The Grip of It (2017), Mike Flanagan’s Netflix adaptation of The Haunting of Hill House (2018), Travis Stevens’ film, Girl on the 3^rd Floor (2019), the segment “Gray Matter” in Shudder’s 2019 reboot of Creepshow (an adaptation of Stephen King’s 1973 story), and the Australian independent film, Relic (Natalie Erika James, 2020).

Spreading black mold, and death, in The Haunting of Hill House‘s “red room”

In most of these narratives, black mold seems to represent death: black mold sprouts up in the places characters have died or have been killed. Black mold doesn’t only signal individual death, however; it can also tell stories about species death, about the end of the human race. Black mold flourishes in decaying and ruined places of unabated moisture and heat, and the recent surge in stories about black mold is no doubt driven in part by contemporary anxieties about the fate of humans in a changing climate: black mold spreads where and when humans are not. Black mold flourishes in what both Alan Weisman and Eugene Thacker (from very different perspectives) have called the “world without us.”[i]