‘Ganymede’ Transcends Camp to Become a True Queer Horror Film

In Greek mythology, a young mortal named Ganymede possessed such beauty that Zeus himself chose to abduct the boy to Mount Olympus—which wasn’t such a bad deal, considering Ganymede was granted not only immortality to go along with his new job as cupbearer to the gods, but also eternal youth and beauty.

But that’s not how the story is told—or rather, twisted—in the new film “Ganymede,” the latest queer indie gem to debut on VOD platforms this summer, which uses the myth as a springboard for a horror story that’s both kitschy and creepy. Directed by partners Colby Holt and Sam Probst (from Holt’s original screenplay) and set in a small town in the Bible Belt today, the film centers on high school wrestling star Lee (Jordan Doww), the only son of a deeply religious local politician (Joe Chrest) who rules his household with an iron fist. When his gay classmate Kyle (Pablo Castelblanco) tries to befriend him, he quickly develops feelings that put him at odds with his conservative upbringing; Small-town gossip, as well as a dark family secret surrounding his mother (Robyn Lively, in a deliciously hysterical performance), soon brings him under the watchful eye of his church’s fanatical pastor (David Koechner). Even more terrifying, his mind is invaded by a ghostly, sinister presence that seems determined to drive him toward madness and self-destruction – unless Kyle can get to it first.

Like many of these queer-centric genre films, “Ganymede” emerged from the festival circuit, receiving praise and awards throughout its run. With its openly LGBTQ slant and religious homophobia at the heart of its horror film, it’s easy to see why it struck a chord with gay audiences, especially at a time when conservative resistance to gay acceptance dominates public debate.

For fans of “mainstream” horror films, whose appreciation of the genre typically focuses on the scares and gore rather than the underlying nuances of its tropes, Holt’s film may not be the terrifying experience it aims to be—largely because he and Probst don’t hide their LGBTQ perspectives between the lines. It’s clear from the start that the gay love story that underpins the plot is exactly what it seems, and what’s more, that’s where our sympathy lies.

Moreover, “Ganymede” inverts the supposed moral order of traditional, old-fashioned horror stories by presenting the forces of religion—or at least a militarized form of it—as the source of the story’s true evil. Despite the “haunting” that afflicts the film’s young protagonist from almost the very beginning, the story’s supernatural elements (spoiler alert) remain localized in his own mind, manifesting in the real world—with one ambiguous exception—only through his reactions to them, and it doesn’t take a film scholar to understand that they aren’t the real threat to his well-being. For Holt and Probst, evil comes not from outside the real world, but from the darkest recesses of a stunted human imagination that projects its own preprogrammed ideas onto that world and treats anything that conflicts with them as an existential threat. In truth, it’s the same message found in horror classics from “The Bride of Frankenstein” to “The Wicker Man” to the notoriously gay “Nightmare on Elm Street 2” – but in this case, it’s delivered not by implication but by direct, obvious statement.

Perhaps it is this point that prevents Holt’s film from satisfying the conventions of traditional horror cinema, but it is also worth noting that it is this point that sets it apart from others. In refusing to conform to generic expectations, it represents a powerful cultural shift, in which the queerness of its premise is no longer a transgressive statement of countercultural themes, but in fact becomes the “normal order” threatened by evil powers that seek to destroy it – and these evil powers are the same “norms” that have for so long cast all “otherness” in a monstrous light.

The bottom line for most viewers, gay or otherwise, is whether the film succeeds in scaring them—and to be honest, it succeeds only in the sense that it confronts us with the horrific intolerance and abuse that LGBTQ existence is subjected to by far-right religious hatred. That means that, even for gay viewers, this isn’t so much a horror film as it is a disturbing allegory about the torment of being forced to suppress one’s true self in order to feign the safe conformity necessary for self-preservation. Frankly, it should be scary enough that everyone, whether or not the film adheres to the accepted form of the genre, should shudder at the thought of a world dominated by such a deranged mentality; After all, it’s not just queer people who risk being subjugated, repressed, and worse in a world controlled by a strict and deeply biased interpretation of outdated beliefs – it’s anyone who would dare suggest that those beliefs might deserve an extinction as final as that experienced by the dinosaurs.

Aside from the sureness of Holt’s direction, which fully embraces the traditions of the genre (hence the aforementioned kitsch) while treating the story as a realistic thriller with genuinely high stakes, the fact that the film succeeds is largely due to a cast that delivers performances far above what we’re used to seeing in this genre. Doww is a compelling and convincing lead character, who never falls into excessive delusions, while Castelblanco triumphs by embodying the determined heroism required by her position in the plot while maintaining a resolutely feminine queer persona; we never doubt her ability to buck the trend, nor the natural and spontaneous alchemy the two actors find together. They find exceptional support from the aforementioned Lively, as well as Chrest – an authoritarian patriarch who would be the film’s most terrifying figure were it not for Koechner’s frighteningly authentic pastor, whose buried self-loathing is nonetheless painfully clear as he bullies and tortures young Lee in the name of “conversion.”

Which brings us back to the meaning of the title and its roots in Greek mythology, where it originated as a tale of transcendence; in the warped minds of the film’s religious leaders, it becomes its opposite, a tale of deliberate corruption perpetrated against supposedly “honest” men by monsters who tempt them with “unnatural” desires. Perhaps more than anything, it’s this plot flourish that makes “Ganymede” a clever social commentary, whether or not it succeeds as a horror film; by twisting understanding of this ancient tale into a justification for cruelty and repression, it underscores the toxic effects of clinging to a dogma that purports to be the truth while presenting other points of view as the product of malevolent influence. It’s an illusion that has reached crisis levels in American society—and it’s why “Ganymede” is a must-see, whether or not it’s a true horror film.

The article ‘Ganymede’ transcends camp to achieve genuine queer horror appeared first on Washington Blade: LGBTQ News, Politics, LGBTQ Rights, Gay News.