They/Them (2022)

Score: 4 / 5

Camp. As kids, we go to it. As adults, we sometimes do it. As cultured adults, we sometimes use it to describe or produce an artistic style. But there are dark sides to the word that we often overlook, including one that has gained notoriety in the last twenty years or so. Conversion "therapy," a means by which some queer folk try to (or are forced to try to) change, inhibit, or deny their sexual orientation and gender identity, usually takes place in private areas but sometimes in more public ones, such as retreats or, well, camp. The psychological and emotional horrors that take place at these locations and events has been documented elsewhere, and it really was only a matter of time before someone used it for art (or exploited it for entertainment, depending on your perspective). Of course, there have been other films about this topic generally, including Boy Erased or last year's Netflix documentary Pray Away. And now, finally, it's been turned into a horror film.

Unceremoniously dumped exclusively for streaming on Peacock this month, They/Them has been the target of derision and doubt since its earliest marketing campaign. Some claimed it was making fun of pronouns, some claimed that it was going to feature queer kids being tortured and murdered. But the film isn't those things, not by far, and in fact bravely addresses some issues much more articulately and thoughtfully than any documentary or op-ed I've seen. It helps surely that its writer John Logan, who also directed it in his debut, is openly gay in real life and one of the most prestigious screenwriters working today (he also wrote Hugo, Gladiator, The Aviator, Skyfall and Spectre, Penny Dreadful, and Alien: Covenant, among others). It also helps that most of the cast is authentically queer and being led by Theo Germaine (of Netflix's The Politician), who is nonbinary in real life.

Essentially, the film begins with a group of queer teens getting off the bus at Whistler Camp, a remote forested area with cabins near a landlocked lake. Basically Camp Crystal Lake, but with one crucial difference: these campers are queer and the staffers are either anti-queer or ex-queer. Kevin Bacon, returning to camp apparently, plays the camp director Owen Whistler, relishes his unusually terrifying role as a sort of cult leader. Charismatic and magnetic, he's also deeply intelligent in how to get under other people's skin. His opening monologue makes him sound like a not so bad guy, just hoping to help these kids discover themselves through intentional self-reflection and some minor guidance along the way. But almost immediately we see him destabilizing that understanding by reacting vastly differently to different campers, as if determined to create a sense of chaos among the kids; he madly respects Jordan (Germaine) and their pronouns, but then he shames a Black trans woman and forces her into the boys' cabin for "lying" to him. It's all arbitrary, which means he can zig or zag when least expected; he's horrifyingly dangerous, much like the gospel he preaches.

Which is saying a lot because really there isn't much bible-thumping in this movie as I expected. It's arguably a fairly secular conversion camp, which is even more surprising than usual. The staffers are the really exciting cast members, as they are pulled from other horror staples (much like Bacon), including especially Anna Chlumsky as the nurse and Carrie Preston as Whistler's wife and the camp's primary counselor. Both get some solid screen time, and Preston is especially terrifying in one haunting monologue. To be fair, the kids don't all get a lot of screen time either; there are just too many for quality development. But, then, films in this vein don't often give a lot of time for in-depth dynamism and resort, necessarily, to a sort of shorthand to understand characters; Logan knows this and uses it to his advantage, even though there are at least half as many campers that we never really hear or get to know. They are the nameless, voiceless masses who have been silenced and sacrificed by conversion therapists through the decades, and so their presence in the film feels at first embarrassingly awkward until it becomes chillingly realistic.

For two-thirds of the film, the horror is almost exclusively psychological. The counselors chip away at the kids' dignity until they can crack them open. They split the boys and girls into respective, normative activities; shooting guns and baking pies (yes, fruit pies, because that's funny, right?). But there are more insidious designs at work; the Barbie-like female counselor flirts heavily with a conflicted young lesbian, while the hunky male counselor aggressively challenges (and tempts) the masculinity of the boys, especially one effeminate Black gay man. There are two pairs of campers -- one female, one male -- with minor romantic arcs, although the male tryst results in a shocking betrayal and perhaps the most violent sequence in the film in which a crude form of electroshocking is used to torture one of the boys. the film indeed gets very dark, and there are endless triggers to watch out for, including offensive language, yes, but also things like animal cruelty and murder, physical and emotional abuse, and of course torture. But it also has its moments of light, as when the campers attempt to cheer each other up by belting out Pink's "Perfect" in jubilant chorus.

Well, then there's the final third or so of the film. The actual opening scene depicts a woman driving alone at night through the woods before getting murdered by a mysterious figure (it's, again, very reminiscent of Friday the 13th). This event is not revisited until the final act, when certain people begin getting murdered. Because the film was marketed (erroneously, in my mind) as a slasher, this development might be a bit late for most casual viewers. Because of the identities of the victims, it also becomes pretty clear pretty quickly what's really going on here. SPOILER ALERT: it's the camp staff who get butchered, confirming our suspicions that either a camper or former camper is on a path of revenge. Thankfully, by this point the plot moves quickly and the bloodshed is more a release than a buildup. It's a brave move, and one that would have worked better for me if not for the film's marketing.

I think what makes me sad about this film -- other than its devastating content -- is that John Logan directed it. Not because Logan's vision isn't specific or that his execution isn't proficient in its way, but because it just doesn't feel like a match between desired outcome and actual output. Logan's understanding of the material is without dispute; his approach to the aesthetic is somewhat less than inspired. It seems he's intent on simply telling the story as seriously as he can, and while that should be enough, it makes the whole affair really heavy and gloomy. I can't help but wish, in some small part, that someone like Ryan Murphy had directed Logan's material, someone who can alleviate (or enhance) horror with comedy. Or, if not comedy, then at least an awareness of this material's place in the genre. Logan makes almost no references to similar films (except Friday the 13th), which makes the film feel ignorant in a way of its own existence, like it's intentionally trying to exist in a vacuum. In content or style, it could reference Boy Erased, The Most Dangerous Game, The Hunt, Saved!, But I'm a Cheerleader, The Retreat, I Know What You Did Last Summer, or even American Horror Story 1984 for that matter. Murphy would also have dived a bit further into the pool of raw horror, sex appeal, and identity politics (which may have held the key for more humor). Instead, it's just its own curious project, a waking nightmare that is wonderful on its own but smacks of those elements that might have made it nastier, more fun, and much more important. As it is, though, it's a damn good film, and one that hopefully opens the door for more, similar, content. And preferably in theatrical release rather than on a wretched marginal service like Peacock.