In celebration of pride month, R. N. Cogley, author of the spine-chilling horror novel Gruesome Getaway, discusses the importance of LGBTQ+ representation in the horror genre and why he chose to subvert the stereotypical ‘Final Girl’ trope for the ‘Final Gay’.
R. N. Cogley says,
The ‘Final Girl’ Trope Explained
Within the horror genre, the ‘final girl’ trope might be one of the most popular clichés, especially in slasher movies. Defined by Carol J. Clover in her book Men, Women and Chainsaws (1992),the final girl is typically understood to be the sole surviving heroine amongst her friend group or family; often, as the final girl is the last one left standing, she must confront the killer. Final girls are generally young, guiltless, clever and inventive. First seen in Jess Bradford from Black Christmas (1974), the trope would go on to be popularised by Jamie Lee Curtis’s portrayal of Laurie Strode in Halloween (1978). Since then, the pool of final girls has rapidly grown to include classic heroines like Ellen Ripley (Alien); Nancy Thompson (A Nightmare on Elm Street); Sidney Prescott (Scream); Julie James (I Know What You Did Last Summer); Tree Gelbman (Happy Death Day); and Maxine Minx (X). My personal favourite is Sidney Prescott – likely because Scream was the first horror movie I was allowed to watch!
It’s important to acknowledge that the final girl trope isn’t confined to film. Literature has also embraced this trope. Riley Sager’s Final Girls (2017) provides an interesting spin on the trope by detailing Quincy Carpenter’s life ten years after the press had deemed her a ‘final girl’. In a similar vein, Grady Hendrix’s The Final Girl Support Group (2021) follows Lynnette Tarkington, who has been meeting with other final girls and their therapist in a support group for over a decade. Video games have also adopted the final girl trope. My personal favourites are Claire Redfield and Jill Valentine from the Resident Evil franchise.
While the final girl trope can often be viewed as too cliché, I’m not embarrassed to admit that I love a good horror cliché. I enjoy when a character’s mobile phone dies or loses signal at the worst moment, when a killer is able to catch up to a sprinting victim when they’ve merely been walking, and when a person stupidly moves into a creepy haunted house. I enjoy the predictability that comes with these clichés, particularly those that come with the final girl.
Though I’ve clearly portrayed myself as a fan of the final girl trope, when it came to writing my own horror story Gruesome Getaway, I wanted to do something different, something that would take the final girl trope into a new direction for the LGBTQ+ community.
Subverting the ‘Final Girl’ Trope for the ‘Final Gay’ in Gruesome Getaway
As a member of the LGBTQ+ community, I’ve always gravitated towards one type of horror character – the final girl. From researching online, I think it’s fair to state that a lot of people in the LGBTQ+ community have a similar interest in this regard. Maybe it’s because we can somehow relate to the final girl more than other characters. The final girl goes through hell and must do everything that she can to survive. And for some members of the LGBTQ+ community, we must do the same. Just like how the final girl must hide from the killer, we must hide from our bullies.
Because of this, I wanted to create a character that people like me could more openly identify with. One that looks like, talks like, and acts like us. After days of playing with ideas for this character, Tadhg Kelly was ultimately created for Gruesome Getaway. I like to think that the character of Tadhg acts as an interesting subversion of the final girl trope. Instead of being a ‘pure’ final girl like Laurie Strode, Tadhg is a flawed young gay man.
Without giving too much away or spoiling the story, Tadhg is a twenty-three-year-old student who joins his twin brother on a rural getaway to Co. Westmeath, Ireland. Tadhg wishes to escape all the drama that’s been plaguing his life, chiefly, his cheating boyfriend. Little does he know that once he enters the eerie village of Killimercy, he’ll have much more than a mere cheating scandal to worry about.
In essence, by subverting the trope in this way, in my story at least, the ‘Final Girl’ became the ‘Final Gay’.
The Importance of LGBTQ+ Representation in the Horror Genre
The horror genre is quite unique in my opinion. When the term ‘horror’ is mentioned, a chill can often run up people’s spines. Horror can scare and terrify us. People tend to think horror is just nasty monsters, gory blood-filled scenes, and well-timed jump scares, but the genre is so much more than that. While the main aim of horror is to frighten the audience, a very important element which can often be overlooked is the genre’s ability to represent minority voices in society, in particular, LGBTQ+ voices.
Historically, horror appears to be one of the first genres to welcome LGBTQ+ identities and queerness. For instance, Le Fanu’s (1872) classic vampire tale Carmilla has regularly been interpreted to include lesbian themes. Similarly, in Robert Wise’s The Haunting (1963), a queer relationship may be interpreted in the friendship between Nell and Theo. Later in the 1980s, queer representation would become equated to campiness, a style that relies heavily on exaggeration, metaphor, and humour, and is often viewed as ‘too much’ – see Nightmare on Elm Street 2: Freddy’s Revenge as a perfect example of this. While this 1980s campiness may force today’s viewers to cringe, it is promising to note that LGBTQ+ representation within the horror genre continues to grow.
Today, the horror genre is filled with LGBTQ+ stories. You can find these stories everywhere: in movies, television shows, books. Recent examples of this queer representation include the lesbian relationship portrayed in Bodies Bodies Bodies; Josh and Rohan in The Parenting; Hell Followed With Us which focuses on a trans boy; and, if you’re so inclined, Gruesome Getaway.
So why is this representation so important? There are many varied reasons why good representation is paramount in media, whether on the screen or on the page. These range from promoting positive self-esteem and combatting negative stereotypes to inspiring marginalised groups and preventing identity erasure. More specifically, with respect to LGBTQ+ representation in the horror genre, good representation can allow viewers/readers to empathise with and build compassion for marginalised voices. This can have the positive impact of thwarting fear or demonisation toward those in the LGBTQ+ community. When representation is perceived as genuine, an emotional connection is formulated, allowing viewers to connect with characters (whether they be LGBTQ+ or from other marginalised groups) and really understand their diverse experiences. I think, in a way, good representation can actually empower those in the LGBTQ+ community.
Personally, as a member of the LGBTQ+ community myself, I welcome today’s depictions of queerness and LGBTQ+ identities with open arms. As the world continues to become more accepting of diversity, I’m delighted to see that LGBTQ+ stories are being told across a variety of genres, including horror. I hope these stories continue to be told, and I hope Gruesome Getaway, with its LGBTQ+ representation and subversion of the classic ‘final girl’ trope, acts as worthy addition to this evolving area.
Check out R. N. Cogley’s books below!