24 Famously Queer and Homoerotic Horror Movies, from ‘Psycho’ to ‘Hellraiser’

“Bride of Frankenstein” (James Whale, 1935)

The classic “Frankenstein” sequel has a lot of queer subtext, primarily in the relationship between Dr. Frankenstein and his mentor, Dr. Pretorius, who run off together on Frankenstein’s wedding night. A titan of classic horror, gay filmmaker James Whale wove queerness into most of his films, which include the original “Frankenstein” and “The Invisible Man.” All his films see Whale casting gay actors and playing up queer themes in various ways. With its throughline of female autonomy, exemplified in the blood-curdling rejection by Elsa Lanchester’s titular character, “Bride of Frankenstein” is perhaps the most overtly queer of Whale’s films — while still passing subtly for the standards of the time. —JD

Rebecca (Alfred Hitchcock, 1940)

As the ultimate creepy servant, Judith Anderson’s Mrs. Danvers is certainly a camp figure. She’s also a symbol of unfulfilled queer longing, as her relationship with the title character of Hitchcock’s best picture winner seems to defy death itself.

Rebecca de Winter, the grand lady of Manderley, died under mysterious circumstances. But well after her death, her most faithful maid, Mrs. Danvers, recounts how lovingly she’d brush Rebecca’s hair for a half hour each night. How beautiful Rebecca’s things were. How radiantly full of life she was. When Rebecca’s widower takes a new wife, Mrs. Danvers feels betrayed on Rebecca’s behalf. Did she and Rebecca have a relationship? Possibly, but if so, Rebecca is one of literature and cinema’s most famous bisexual characters, as she had a relationship with the motorcar salesman Jack FaVell (George Sanders) as well. And the demonization of the bisexual community certainly extends to the specter of villainy Rebecca inhabits, right down to the plot essentially condoning Maxim for murdering her.

But as with so much of Hitchcock, it’s hard to say that this is an outright homophobic vision, especially when the script has the insouciance of Oscar Wilde: “Before this day is out I fear we’ll hear that terribly old-fashioned but quite expressive term ‘foul play,’” Sanders says, all while munching on a chicken leg. —CB

“Cat People” (Jacques Tourneur, 1942)

Aside from the fact that no single group is more associated with the term “cat people” than lesbians, this Hays Code-era horror classic is one of the early examples of established markers of “otherness” standing in as shorthand for queerness. Directed by Jacques Tourneur, “Cat People” tells the story of a woman who believes she is descended from a race of people who shape-shift into panthers when sexually aroused or angered. The fear that her repressed identity will be found out, as well as her resistance to committing to a heteronormative marriage, made the queer themes in “Cat People” quite clear in its time. —JD

“Rope” (Alfred Hitchcock, 1948)

Having a screenplay written by Arthur Laurents should qualify Hitchcock’s insular, apartment-set drama for the Queer Hall of Fame by default. And the librettist for “West Side Story” did not hold back: Drawing from the real-life Leopold and Loeb case, in which two friends wanted to demonstrate their “superior intellect” by murdering an acquaintance, Laurents and Hitchcock unambiguously make John Dall’s Brandon and Farley Granger’s Philip far more than just old boarding school chums.

The couple that murders together stays together, after all. (A description of Philip strangling a chicken sends him into such a fit of embarrassment it’s as if a tryst with Brandon has been exposed.) What’s particularly interesting is how deeply it implicates their former prep school housemaster (Jimmy Stewart) in the development of who they are. The queering of Jimmy Stewart? If anyone could pull it off, Laurents and Hitchcock could. —CB

“Strangers on a Train” (Alfred Hitchcock, 1951)

Yet another Patricia Highsmith adaptation with queer themes, Hitchcock’s “Strangers on a Train” is most interesting in the way it approaches the performance of gender.

Bruno Antony (Robert Walker) is a charming psychopath who meets moderately famous tennis player Guy (Farley Granger) on the train from D.C. to New York and decides to follow through on a flight of fancy he shared with him: that they “swap murders.” Bruno will murder Guy’s wife if Guy murders Bruno’s father. Guy has no intention of repaying the favor once Bruno kills his poor Miriam. The scene where Bruno lures her to her death, by following her seductively at a New Jersey carnival, is among the most mysterious and intriguing of all of Hitchcock. This man has been barely capable of concealing his murderous lunacy within seconds of talking to anybody and, with Walker’s trademark high-pitched voice, certainly did not seem like a paragon of masculine desire.

Somehow, though, he contains the psychopathy and performs the kind of stoic macho man the horny, philandering Miriam would like to get it on with: He doesn’t speak, and he adopts a more butch posture, even showing off his strength by hitting the bell with a mallet at the carnival’s strongman game. Miriam is hooked. But it’s not a tryst Bruno has in mind when he finally completes the seduction and gets her alone. It’s a moment that shows, no matter what, you’ll be hot to someone — and how easily performed crude gender roles can be. —CB

“Les Diaboliques” (Henri-Georges Clouzot, 1955)

This French psychological thriller follows the intense relationship between two women conspiring to kill a man — one is married to him, one is his mistress. Directed by Henri-Georges Clouzot, who nabbed the rights from Alfred Hitchcock, the film was an enormous success in France. The film has been compared to “Psycho,” and Robert Bloch, who penned the novel of “Psycho,” once called it his favorite horror film. The boarding school setting, suggestive costume design, and close friendship between the two main women all contribute to making “Les Diaboliques” a queer-coded film. —JD

Psycho (Alfred Hitchcock, 1960)

Hitchcock was known for working with many of the same actors over and over again. How fitting that maybe the best performance ever in any of his movies came from a one-and-done collaboration. Anthony Perkins’ performance as Norman Bates all but invented the slasher villain. And that he’s layered with degrees of sexuality, expressed and repressed, makes him all the more complex.

He seems aroused (or is he just trying really hard to be?) by Janet Leigh’s Marion Crane, staring at her in her motel room through a peephole, but is so terrified of his feelings (or lack thereof?) that a knife is his only resort; nothing about his performance exudes traditional masculinity, even before it’s revealed his personality has merged with that of his mother and, in fits of murderous rage, he becomes her. Is he gay, and his mother a homophobe whose presence in his life he can’t escape?

“Mother” seems to mock him at one point when he “takes her to the fruit cellar,” and she asks, “So you think I’m fruity, do you?” The remarkable thing about all this is that Hitchcock makes you identify with Perkins (who was gay and closeted in real life) as much as he did Marion Crane herself, to the point that, as Hitchcock often did at his perverse best, you’re kinda rooting for him. (Admittedly, one often is in many slasher films after this.) In making you relate to an identity-fluid character… perhaps Hitchcock was attempting the queering of the audience this time as well. —CB 

“The Haunting” (Robert Wise, 1963)

Shirley Jackson’s blockbuster horror novel “The Haunting of Hill House” has spawned several adaptations, some more successful than others. Most recently, Netflix’s episodic adaptation made the character of Theodora a lesbian playboy, shrewdly turning her empathic abilities into a metaphor for fear of commitment. (Sound like your ex?)

In Robert Wise’s critically acclaimed 1963 version, the romance between Theo and Eleanor could merely be hinted at, though it has long puzzled and fascinated fans of the film. Played by Julie Harris and Claire Bloom, one of the film’s most famous scenes features the women clutching each other’s hands in fear before realizing it was actually a spirit. —JD

The Devils (Ken Russell, 1971)

Set in 17th-century France, “The Devils” stars Vanessa Redgrave as a hunchbacked nun named Sister Jeanne who lusts after the town priest, Father Grandier (Oliver Reed). When Sister Jeanne inadvertently accuses Grandier of witchcraft, the town sets out on a gruesome witch hunt. Among the most notorious censored scenes was a nun orgy that culminated in a sexual assault on a statue of Christ and Sister Jeanne masturbating with Father Grandier’s charred leg bone.

The film is widely considered one of the most controversial of all time. When “The Devils” was released in 1971, it faced harsh criticism and censorship due to its Holy Trinity of intense violence, sexuality, and religious themes. While it isn’t explicitly queer, it certainly is explicit. Film critic Judith Crist called it a “grand fiesta for sadists and perverts.” What could be more queer than that? —JD

“The Last House On the Left” (Wes Craven, 1972)

Wes Craven’s provocative sexpolitation film is one of the earliest examples of a rape revenge fantasy, a common trope that has recently undergone a much-needed reinvention and reclamation by women filmmakers. Craven’s controversial directorial debut was a major box-office success, even if critics at the time could not get over the extreme depictions of sexual violence. In a wild performance, Jeramie Rain plays the unhinged and intense woman who helps lure the two young victims to their deaths. The queer themes become quite explicit, however, when the victims are forced to perform sexual acts with each other. —JD

“Fear No Evil” (Frank LaLoggia, 1981)

Replete with a classic bullied-in-the-shower scene leading to a forced same-sex kiss, “Fear No Evil” follows a teenage boy who realizes he is the Antichrist and must battle two female demons. In addition to the camera objectifying the male body throughout, the film features a rather phallic impalement by crucifix and costumes the Son of Satan in a flowing Bob Mackie gown. —JD

“Sleepaway Camp” (Robert Hiltzik, 1983)

This one puts the camp in “Sleepaway Camp.” Of the many copycat slashers to emerge in the 1980s following “Friday the 13th,” Robert Hiltzik’s summer camp killing spree was certainly the weirdest — and the one with the most enduring cult following.

That’s both in spite of and because of its embrace of queerness (from the barely-there short-shorted young men with glistening torsos batting around the volleyball to hilariously sharp quips like, “She’s a real carpenter’s dream: flat as a board and needs a screw”) and its entirely problematic relationship to it. Spoiler alert: In the wild climax, it’s revealed that the killer, a dark-haired girl named Angela, is actually a boy named Peter. The final shot shows a deranged-looking Peter holding a knife covered in blood, penis in full view. It turns out that Angela died in a boat accident, and her brother Peter was raised as the dead girl by their aunt.

It was 1983, when the majority of audiences (and the film had a considerable one, making $11 million at the box office) could embrace this hairpin turn as a twisted punchline. Now, it’s been accused by scholars as being blatantly transphobic, and it is: The movie perpetuates the dangerous screen myth that gender dysphoria and homicidal urges are somehow connected. Still, “Sleepaway Camp” is an artifact of its time that queer film theorists will obsess over forever.  —RL

“The Hunger” (Tony Scott, 1983)

Depending on your age, you may know every frame of the steamy sex scenes between Catherine Deneuve and Susan Sarandon in “The Hunger”; the film played lesbian bars so frequently that it famously inspired Rose Troche to make “Go Fish” — so lesbians would have something else to watch for a change.

While “The Hunger” was monumental in being the first time A-list actresses played openly queer in a theatrical release — sex scenes and all — the film is essentially a tragedy about the dangers of the flesh. Deneuve’s Miriam, a sensual vampire who keeps a mausoleum of lovers in the attic, is just another evil bisexual who will stop at nothing in her quest to be desired. Still, the film’s slow burn reversal of classic vampire tropes elevated the lesbian vampire from her pulpy origins and into the art house. Throw in a performance from bisexual icon David Bowie and a straight line to Jim Jarmusch’s “Only Lovers Left Alive” (2013), and “The Hunger” has more than earned its place in the queer horror canon. —JD

“Fright Night” (Tom Holland, 1985)

“Fright Night” is the first feature from director Tom Holland, who also directed the deliciously campy “Child’s Play,” another horror franchise beloved by queer audiences. Played by Chris Sarandon, vampire Jerry Dandridge lives with his friend and manservant (Stephen Geoffreys) under the thinly veiled cover that they curate antiques together. He eventually turns Ed into a vampire, and the two share a poignant scene where they acknowledge a connection due to their outsider status. “Fright Night” also stars a young Amanda Bearse, who would later become the first out lesbian on primetime television for her role in “Married…With Children” when she out on the cover of The Advocate in 1994. —JD

“A Nightmare On Elm Street 2: Freddy’s Revenge” (Jack Sholder, 1985)

The most famously queer-coded horror movie of the last 35 years, this obvious example wrote the book on queer subtext. The first sequel in what would become a sprawling franchise, “A Nightmare On Elm Street 2: Freddy’s Revenge” was a notorious flop before it was reclaimed by queer audiences to reach the cult status it enjoys today. Mark Patton’s Jesse has been called the first male scream queen, and his possession by Freddy Krueger a clear metaphor for queer desire. For a deeper dive into the movie’s queer themes and the movie’s effect on Patton, check out the documentary “Scream, Queen! My Nightmare on Elm Street.” —JD

“Hellraiser” (Clive Barker, 1987)

A prolific and successful horror fiction writer who began directing to adapt his work himself, out gay filmmaker Clive Barker is responsible for two of the films on this list, “Nightbreed” and “Hellraiser.” Barker’s directorial debut spawned a wildly successful horror franchise that includes 11 “Hellraiser” movies. 

And it all started with the original, which is often read as a celebration of otherness and alternative sexualities. While obvious to anyone familiar with the leather community, Barker has said in interviews that his inspiration for the distinct look of the Cenobites, who are decked out in black leather and whose leader is adorned with pins all over his head, came from Barker’s experiences in underground S&M clubs. —JD

“Nightbreed” (Clive Barker, 1990)

Though it didn’t spawn any sequels, “Nightbreed” was more critically embraced than “Hellraiser” and is considered a direct metaphor for gay activism. Based on Barker’s 1988 novella “Cabal,” the story follows a man wrongly suspected of being a serial killer who finds acceptance from a group of outsiders and misfits known as the Nightbreed. Dealing with alternative identities and misunderstood mental illness, “Nightbreed” can easily be read as a coming-out narrative. The film is an allegory for finding belonging in community when the world rejects you. It is also significant for featuring a rare acting role from body horror auteur David Cronenberg. —JD

“Bram Stoker’s Dracula” (Francis Ford Coppola, 1992)

In his take on the classic vampire tale, Francis Ford Coppola unleashes the sexuality that was always lurking underneath Bram Stoker’s original “Dracula” in sumptuous color and delicious visuals. Some have noted queer themes even in the 1931 original, most notably in Count Dracula’s mistresses. Coppola made these characters much more explicit, embroiling the women in a sensual and pretty overtly Sapphic orgy. —JD

“Interview With the Vampire” (Neil Jordan, 1994)

Another movie so often called queer that it’s surprising to learn it was never explicitly stated. Neil Jordan’s gothic romantic horror pairs young Brad Pitt and Tom Cruise as two vampires in an intense lifelong relationship. “Lestat and Louis are in a relationship. They fight over another man. And they co-parent a child together,” said horror screenwriter Michael Varrati. “In many ways, ‘Interview’ is the most commercially successful gay film of all time, and most audiences didn’t even realize they were seeing a gay film.” —JD

“The Craft” (Andrew Fleming, 1996)

Ah, “The Craft,” responsible for the awakening of many a bicurious teenager’s first sexual stirrings. Whether you fantasized about starting a witchy girl coven of your own, lusted after Fairuza Balk’s punk aesthetic, or just really had a thing for Neve Campbell — “The Craft” had you covered. In fact, it’s so beloved by queer women that it’s hard to believe there is virtually nothing explicitly gay about “The Craft.” Well, except the whole witchcraft thing. And Fairuza Balk’s lipstick. —JD

“The Covenant” (Renny Harlin, 2006)

Featuring shirtless shots of Sebastian Stan (“Avengers: Endgame”), Taylor Kitsch (“Friday Night Lights”), and Chase Crawford (“Gossip Girl”), “The Covenant” is basically the guys’ version of “The Craft.” The movie follows a group of teenagers at a prestigious New England prep school who belong to an ancient magical covenant that endows them with supernatural powers. While they have romances with girls, the way the camera objectifies the male bodies onscreen, paired with the casting of four baby-faced hotties with perfectly spiky 2006-era haircuts, has led to the film being claimed as queer. As it was notoriously panned by critics, “The Covenant” will take all the fans it can get. —JD

“Jennifer’s Body” (Karyn Kusama, 2009)

Cruelly overlooked at its release in 2009, it didn’t take long for Karyn Kusama’s subversive feminist possession flick to receive its rightful reevaluation. As too often happens to movies about women and girls, “Jennifer’s Body” was initially written off as fluff, despite a killer script from Diablo Cody, fresh off the success of “Juno.” The movie revolves around two best friends, one popular (Megan Fox) and one not (Amanda Seyfried), and plays with the blurred lines of the intense bond that can develop between teenage girls. Offered as a virgin sacrifice to serve the male ego’s needs, Megan Fox’s Jennifer becomes possessed due to not actually being a virgin.

With satirical aplomb, Cody transformed the iconography of possession into an allegory for how women’s sexuality is demonized in the service of patriarchy. Add to that some explicitly Sapphic overtones and Kusama’s expert direction, and it’s no surprise that “Jennifer’s Body” became a cult hit. Now if we could only relaunch Megan Fox’s career, that would be the final bit of justice served. —JD

“Thelma” (Joachim Trier, 2017)

Joachim Trier, known for his Norwegian dramedies that explore the lives of everyday people on Earth, took a detour into queer horror for this otherworldly tale of a young woman whose emerging lesbian desires literally trigger psychokinetic powers. Thelma is played by Eili Harboe, believably embodying a woman whose sexual coming-of-age is also paralleling with an out-of-body, supernatural one. And isn’t that more or less what the queer experience feels like for those coming into it? An inexplicable, powerful ruse.

Thelma feels an intense love for another student at her Oslo university, Anja (Kaya Wilkins), and realizes she’s powerless to ward off those feelings. But Thelma has a dark past that keeps getting in the way, including a baby brother who died under mysterious circumstances and an abusive father. Harboe and Wilkins share a potent chemistry buoyed by Thelma’s powerful abilities, making way for some nifty scenes of special effects and plenty of sexual tension. —RL

“Raw” (Julia Ducournau, 2017)

Female sexuality carries the same taboo as a ravenous flesh-eating teenager in this provocative feature debut from French filmmaker Julia Ducournau. “Raw” may start out like any other coming-of-age tale, but as soon as Justine (Garance Marillier) gets her first taste of meat, she’s transformed from good girl to social outcast, rejected by society for her carnal desires. Taking the token gay friend to his rightfully sensual ends, her roommate Adrien luxuriates in his sexuality, bringing boys home and flaunting the pleasures of the flesh that seem so out of reach to the ravenous Justine. 

Ducournau tears down the walls of a genre often identified with male filmmakers. Shrewdly using the art-horror format to upend the traditional teen Bildungsroman, “Raw” makes it impossible to look away — as much as you might want to. —JD