Movie Review - Spiral (2020)

There's only been a handful of horror films with openly gay characters as the leads. The New Mutants (2020), which was just released last month is arguably the first queer horror film from a major, Hollywood studio. All of the rest have been independent films. Of those films, none have really delved into the idea of homosexual domesticity or the idea of LGBTQ people in what looks like a traditional, home setup. Tommy Stovall's Hate Crime (2006) dabbled in that idea. Stovall's was a more straightforward, dramatic film that isn't shrouded in the lore or supernatural elements of most horror films, as well as the typical tactics of creepy noises or tracking shots of someone moving through a darkened space where the audience is waiting for the inevitable jump-scare. This film is shrouded in those elements, but it leans more on that domesticity and presenting a queer nuclear family as normal. Watching how a family like that is bonded along with how outside forces could tear it apart is compelling. The question becomes what exactly are those forces potentially trying to tear the family apart.

Writers Colin Minihan and John Poliquin don't craft a slasher flick like William Friedkin's Cruising (1980), Alexandre Aja's High Tension (2005) or Paul Etheredge-Ouzts' Hellbent (2005). This is more psychological terror where we're watching one person descend into madness as a result of looming homophobia. However, what Minihan and Poliquin do is actually raise doubts about whether that looming homophobia is real or all in the head of the protagonist. This is the definition of paranoia and Minihan and Poliquin utilize it quite well. Director Kurtis David Harder has to visualize it, which is something that filmmakers like Alfred Hitchcock and Roman Polanski did incredibly well. It even got to a point where I felt like I was watching a queer version of Rosemary's Baby (1968), a Polanski paranoia pic that remains a classic. Harder is able to visualize that paranoia in a way that feels effective.

Jeffrey Bowyer-Chapman (Unreal and Stargate Universe) stars as Malik, an African-American, aspiring writer who is the partner to an older, white guy. Malik is a former party boy who is now trying to settle down and be more domestic. He moves with his partner to a nice, fairly large house in the country, seemingly in or near a small town where his partner has a new job. Not that long after arriving, Malik starts to become suspicious of his neighbors who seem progressive and gay friendly, but he gets the impression that they're all masking a hidden homophobia that they harbor and will soon act upon, probably with violence.

A lot of the subsequent paranoia that we see from Malik comes from Bowyer-Chapman's performance, as he becomes increasingly fearful and terrified that the neighbors are up to something nefarious and might harm his family. It's established though that Malik is suffering from a traumatic event. Like Jon Shear's Urbania (2000), Malik is the survivor of a horrific gay bashing and has what seems to be PTSD. He perhaps could be suffering from some other mental illness or condition that requires him to take medication, and, yes, the film leans into that aspect of how mental illness and medication play into the horror that people perceive about or in the world.

Jennifer Laporte co-stars as Kayla Miller, the stepdaughter to Malik. She's the biological child to Malik's partner. We don't get much from her of what a child, especially a teenage child might face, if their parents were a same-sex couple. There's a passing reference that her mother lost custody or is absent due to her father's queerness, but that aspect isn't mined for much depth.

If not for the fact that we see the characters using technology that would seem to be 20 years old, we might not grasp that the film is taking place in the past. The year appears to be 1995. That year isn't cemented until a reference near the end that President Bill Clinton is still in office, but our first clue is the fact that Malik uses an old IBM computer and Kayla uses a landline instead of a iPhone. Other than that, the film does feel like it could be happening in the present day. There's a timeless feeling about the film in that regard, which should lend a clue as to what's really occurring.

By the end, I did feel as though the film would become the anti-Rosemary's Baby, as the penultimate scene is more about dispelling the paranoia, instead of confirming it. The penultimate scene suggested that the true horror often is of our own making. Yet, Minihan and Poliquin's actual scare does go for the more topical and socially relevant topic, that of the persecution of certain minorities, a sentiment that many have felt has been exacerbated since the election of the 45th President of the United States.

Not Rated but contains violence, bloody images, gore and language.
Running Time: 1 hr. and 27 mins.

Available on Shudder.