“He really loves her,” cries Laura (Melissa Barrera) at the start of Your Monster. Post-break-up, she appears to be reading a weepy romance – but it’s actually a copy of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. The creature may be a monster, but he’s not a monster.
Director Caroline Lindy’s Your Monster is set in the chilling world of musical theatre. Put on a Happy Face from Bye Bye Birdie plays over the opening scene, setting up a theme of juxtaposed horror and musical tropes.
Laura is an aspiring musical theatre actress whose boyfriend Jacob (Edmund Donovan) has written a show for her to star in. When she receives a cancer diagnosis, however, she is promptly dumped and, following a bout of surgery, she discovers that she wasn’t even invited to audition for the musical’s Broadway production. Her best friend Mazie (Kayla Foster), meanwhile, promises support but rarely follows through and provides it. As her world falls apart, Laura, now living alone in her childhood house, starts hearing rumbling in the walls.
The culprit, of course, is the charming but snappy Monster (Tommy Dewey). It turns out the pair have history as he was Laura’s childhood bogeyman. They tussle for a while but soon develop a sweet relationship.
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One of the horrors of the film is the musical theatre industry itself, which gets a brutal but fair bashing. It’s full of pretentious “asshole” directors, performative activism, sexual politics and annoying actors – evidently, “this business is hell”. Jacob’s misogynist musical (how did he get this on Broadway??) reveals how he’s stolen and twisted Laura’s narrative, but it also echoes the style of female revenge musicals such as Carrie and Heathers.
The tension between musicals and horror is shown during a movie night, when Laura wants to watch Royal Wedding (1951) and Monster wants to watch Night of the Living Dead (1968). But it turns out the genres are surprisingly compatible: both offer intense emotional release, just for different emotions.
As Monster weeps at the musical and Laura keeps revisiting the theatrical Frankenstein, the pair help each other to free themselves, to process their feelings in ways that correspond to their respective genres. Monster develops romantic feelings, and Laura embraces her rage.
The thing is, Laura is flawed. She’s privileged and spoiled, and not particularly witty (her big rant at Jacob is disappointingly awkward).
When she calls out Mazie for her selfishness, the latter retorts that Laura has no other friends or family around, but it’s unclear what she’s implying. We only see a snippet of her life with Jacob before we’re swept into her internal world – and, since Mazie’s comment is so vague, it’s hard to tell if we’re supposed to disagree with her. The problem is that we don’t really have a sense of who Laura is.
This makes the message slightly confusing. Is the scene critiquing how women are villainised for showing anger, or is it insinuating there’s a good reason Laura is alone by making us question the nature of her character?
Melissa Barerra, however, is charming, and her casting must have been a no-brainer considering her dual reputation for musicals (In the Heights and Carmen) and horror (Scream and Abigail). The hilarious Tommy Dewey nails the balance between sweet and ferocious. Monster really knows who he is, in contrast to Laura’s self-doubt.
Inner monsters
The references and tropes in Your Monster are on the nose, but I enjoyed the campiness. Laura’s Bride of Frankenstein party costume halfway through the film signifies her break away from reality and decorum to a more fantastical, violent mindset. And as for the monster twist, it’s predictable, but the reveal is well-done.
At first glance, Your Monster feels tame. There is little action, and horror fans might be disappointed by the lack of terror and gore. But as an intimate rom-com that utilises gothic tropes, it succeeds on its own terms.
It’s a tale of rage that is unexpectedly gentle and charming. The film is not merely about accepting your inner monster, but passionately embracing it until it becomes a pleasurable experience of self-love.
Jodie Passey does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
This article was originally published on The Conversation. Read the original article.
