Warning: This review contains slight spoilers.
B movies are not recognised for their social commentary, but Ring of Darkness can be considered a modest exception. This, and many others produced by Rapid Heart Pictures, are essentially 'closet horror' movies.
Homosexual themes are not presented explicitly, but the style of the direction, the subtextual interpretations of the narrative and the posters for the films themselves all indicate something slightly different from the mainstream. Though present, heterosexual women have only a peripheral role in the narrative and the gaze of the camera contradicts every 'straight' moment, a principle argument in 'queer theory' of the implications of the buddy movie narratives of Lethal Weapon (1987) etc.
This subconscious presentation of sexual concerns is not uncommon. Studies of a great deal of horror films consider the view of the monster as metaphorical. A Nightmare on Elm Street Part 2: Freddy's Revenge (1985) can be seen as a destructive 'coming out' narrative. This film goes a step further by highlighting the male form over all other aspects. This colours responses to the narrative and the director's intentions.
Director David DeCoteau is a director with many years of experience in exploitation cinema and clearly has an agenda. Openly gay himself, every decision in his recent films appears to have been made for a reason. So, one has to consider the full implications of a film which advertises itself with posters of young men who look as though they stepped out of the pages of Attitude, yet contain not even the briefest mention of homosexuality, let alone romance.
While the homo-erotica of DeCoteau's contemporary oeuvre appears greatly indebted to the likes of Interview with the Vampire (1994), Ring of Darkness is a closer relation to that film's inferior sequel, Queen of the Damned (2002) in its unity of horror and popular music. Unlike that film the music is the hook and not the selling point. Here we go beyond usual horror cliché to explore the boy band phenomenon itself, which has dominated the music industry for over 10 years.
Society is still rather uncomfortable with homosexuality. We've just about accepted it on TV, and that's mainly in relation to comedy. Many celebrities are still believed to be in the closet because of such prejudice. Take the boy band for example. Occasionally extremely camp, in terms of theatrical choreography and attention to physical perfection, boy bands always sing ballads about women and are adored mostly by young girls, who make up the majority of the pop audience. I don't feel like I'm incorrect in saying that if an openly gay boy band emerged their success would be severely limited. It appears that this is a foundation for DeCoteau's film, with the band protecting their metaphorical secret from an innocent public.
Issues of sexuality aside, it seems the film strives even to use the horror as a metaphor for pop music itself. Called Take 10, this is merely the current incarnation of the immortal quartet. It is discovered that they have actually been around since the 1950s, continually reinventing themselves to conform to the latest pop trend. Quite clearly this is a clever swipe at the nature of pop music itself, a genre whose popularity is ephemeral and in constant need of change to adapt to the culture of the time.
My playground sense of humour meant that I couldn't help but snigger a little at the irony implied by the title. From an allegorical perspective it seems actually kind of apt. Mainstream society's long held fears of homosexuality are played out as the protagonist struggles to keep hold of his prized heterosexuality in a familiar 'join us or die' narrative. The secret of their monster nature representing their closet status, the violent acts they commit play to dated fears of their predatory nature; their cannibalism specifically playing on fears of rape.
Due to uncharacteristic complexity I initially had difficulty trying to figure out what point director David DeCoteau is trying to make. It appears he's sending mixed signals. Playing the film 'straight' does allow the film to appeal to a wide audience, and in a sense he is exploiting audience expectation. The modestly sexy shots of the girls in the movie are clearly highlighted in the trailer far more than the overwhelming number of male 'underwear model' shots that fill the running time. He seems to have fun playing with the audience. Objectifying men instead of women can create unease in an audience far more than even gore, so DeCoteau makes sure the role of girlfriend is there to reassure, allowing a conventional narrative to carry the viewer along.
Even though the times have changed, to make a genre film which frankly presented homosexual characters would likely cause it to be marginalised. DeCoteau's films enjoy the best of both worlds. A Bi-movie, if you'll forgive the pun. Maximising the talents of a small cast, a modest location and minimising special effects, Gay audiences can have fun with the subversion of film-making norms and enjoy the sculpted physiques on display.
Straight audiences can safely enjoy a horror narrative which exploits their fear of the unknown, consistently appeased by the sight of nubile young women and the safe resolution of the defeat of evil. DeCoteau's intent is actually closer to that of David Cronenberg or Clive Barker. Good and evil, black and white, there are no absolutes in reality. Ring of Darkness allows the audience to see what it wants to and to consider the implications themselves.
B movies are not recognised for their social commentary, but Ring of Darkness can be considered a modest exception. This, and many others produced by Rapid Heart Pictures, are essentially 'closet horror' movies.
Homosexual themes are not presented explicitly, but the style of the direction, the subtextual interpretations of the narrative and the posters for the films themselves all indicate something slightly different from the mainstream. Though present, heterosexual women have only a peripheral role in the narrative and the gaze of the camera contradicts every 'straight' moment, a principle argument in 'queer theory' of the implications of the buddy movie narratives of Lethal Weapon (1987) etc.
This subconscious presentation of sexual concerns is not uncommon. Studies of a great deal of horror films consider the view of the monster as metaphorical. A Nightmare on Elm Street Part 2: Freddy's Revenge (1985) can be seen as a destructive 'coming out' narrative. This film goes a step further by highlighting the male form over all other aspects. This colours responses to the narrative and the director's intentions.
Director David DeCoteau is a director with many years of experience in exploitation cinema and clearly has an agenda. Openly gay himself, every decision in his recent films appears to have been made for a reason. So, one has to consider the full implications of a film which advertises itself with posters of young men who look as though they stepped out of the pages of Attitude, yet contain not even the briefest mention of homosexuality, let alone romance.
While the homo-erotica of DeCoteau's contemporary oeuvre appears greatly indebted to the likes of Interview with the Vampire (1994), Ring of Darkness is a closer relation to that film's inferior sequel, Queen of the Damned (2002) in its unity of horror and popular music. Unlike that film the music is the hook and not the selling point. Here we go beyond usual horror cliché to explore the boy band phenomenon itself, which has dominated the music industry for over 10 years.
Society is still rather uncomfortable with homosexuality. We've just about accepted it on TV, and that's mainly in relation to comedy. Many celebrities are still believed to be in the closet because of such prejudice. Take the boy band for example. Occasionally extremely camp, in terms of theatrical choreography and attention to physical perfection, boy bands always sing ballads about women and are adored mostly by young girls, who make up the majority of the pop audience. I don't feel like I'm incorrect in saying that if an openly gay boy band emerged their success would be severely limited. It appears that this is a foundation for DeCoteau's film, with the band protecting their metaphorical secret from an innocent public.
Issues of sexuality aside, it seems the film strives even to use the horror as a metaphor for pop music itself. Called Take 10, this is merely the current incarnation of the immortal quartet. It is discovered that they have actually been around since the 1950s, continually reinventing themselves to conform to the latest pop trend. Quite clearly this is a clever swipe at the nature of pop music itself, a genre whose popularity is ephemeral and in constant need of change to adapt to the culture of the time.
My playground sense of humour meant that I couldn't help but snigger a little at the irony implied by the title. From an allegorical perspective it seems actually kind of apt. Mainstream society's long held fears of homosexuality are played out as the protagonist struggles to keep hold of his prized heterosexuality in a familiar 'join us or die' narrative. The secret of their monster nature representing their closet status, the violent acts they commit play to dated fears of their predatory nature; their cannibalism specifically playing on fears of rape.
Due to uncharacteristic complexity I initially had difficulty trying to figure out what point director David DeCoteau is trying to make. It appears he's sending mixed signals. Playing the film 'straight' does allow the film to appeal to a wide audience, and in a sense he is exploiting audience expectation. The modestly sexy shots of the girls in the movie are clearly highlighted in the trailer far more than the overwhelming number of male 'underwear model' shots that fill the running time. He seems to have fun playing with the audience. Objectifying men instead of women can create unease in an audience far more than even gore, so DeCoteau makes sure the role of girlfriend is there to reassure, allowing a conventional narrative to carry the viewer along.
Even though the times have changed, to make a genre film which frankly presented homosexual characters would likely cause it to be marginalised. DeCoteau's films enjoy the best of both worlds. A Bi-movie, if you'll forgive the pun. Maximising the talents of a small cast, a modest location and minimising special effects, Gay audiences can have fun with the subversion of film-making norms and enjoy the sculpted physiques on display.
Straight audiences can safely enjoy a horror narrative which exploits their fear of the unknown, consistently appeased by the sight of nubile young women and the safe resolution of the defeat of evil. DeCoteau's intent is actually closer to that of David Cronenberg or Clive Barker. Good and evil, black and white, there are no absolutes in reality. Ring of Darkness allows the audience to see what it wants to and to consider the implications themselves.