Women and Queerness in Horror: “The Sermon”

Warning: This article contains discussion of homophobia, religious abuse, and spoilers for “The Sermon.”

I have, shall we say, mixed feelings about this week’s pick. Interaction between queerness and religion in horror fiction is always a little thorny in general. As a viewer whose queerness and whose faith walk hand in hand, it is also a bit iffy. It requires treading a line between discussing homophobic abuse without replicating it — and without entirely discarding the idea of spirituality and faith as not having any value.

For what it’s worth, I think “The Sermon” by and large pulls that balance off. It’s not an unfamiliar premise. “The Sermon” evokes a lot of British folk horror that’s quickly recognizable, pulling in threads from The Wicker Man (1973) and The Blood on Satan’s Claw (1971). It even has some echoes of more recent works like In the Flesh (2013).

The idea of a small, closed-minded, bigoted community that is isolated from the outside world isn’t new. This community being desirous of that isolationism in ways that clearly and deliberately resonate with the ideals behind Brexit and the Trump administration isn’t new in horror, either. There’s a timelessness in the costuming and the set building that in some ways makes the film look like a period piece. However, barring a brief mention of England at the very beginning of “The Sermon’s” 11 minute run, there’s no mention of time or place at all.

It establishes, I dare say deliberately, that this story could have happened anywhere, in any time period. This regressive community is so out of touch that they’ve essentially become trapped in a timeless bubble. As a result they are completely indifferent and dismissive of forward progress elsewhere.

The familiarity of this premise — a lesbian couple being exposed and tormented by the villagers in question — is a big part of what gave me pause. Indeed, some of the sequences might stay with their violence a little longer than is strictly necessary. I think most people watching this would understand what’s going on without explicitly putting aversion therapy on screen.

Still, the turnaround to a revenge short is ultimately satisfying in its complexity. The acting and cinematography choices are really solid. This includes long lingering glances at the glassy, brittle fury on the protagonist’s face as the film reaches its climax. Her wrestling with shock at her own capacity for wrath is powerfully expressed, too.

A lot of this film is carried by those facial and bodily cues, since there’s very little dialogue. Much of the film is voiced over by the pointedly homophobic, hateful sermon that gives the short its title. It is this aspect of the film that lends much of the story its horror. It makes recommending it a bit of a hard sell; the word “abomination” coming up in literally the first thirty seconds might be a hard turn-off, even before more active violence follows.

On the other hand, it gives the lead actor, Molly Casey, a lot of opportunities to portray a complex, nuanced, angry queer woman without being hamstrung by clunky or apologetic dialogue. I’ll admit I had my reservations at first about the fact that neither she nor her lover (Denise Stephenson) are nearly silenced in their own story. Yet by the short’s conclusion I think it mostly worked.

For what it’s worth, I would have loved to learn more about Stephenson’s character. However, I do understand that the film is primarily from Casey’s character’s point of view and frame of reference. I appreciate, too, that their relationship looks and feels authentic, even briefly visited as it is.

That said, the age disparity between these two characters might be a little contentious. I have to wonder if it was written less in recognition of the limited scope of queer relationships when you’re living in a hostile community, and more to play back against the priest’s scathing remarks about “the tender age at which the homosexuals prefer their conquests.”

Nonetheless, I do welcome seeing an intimate relationship between women that isn’t carved out to look attractive and palatable to straight audiences. In that way, I think it reflects and resembles something honest. Barring that one line, it doesn’t seem interested in fantasizing over the “forbidden” nature of their age disparity. No doubt it helps that Molly Casey is solidly an adult, and there’s no indication her character is underage.

There are some aspects of the film that are left up to audience interpretation. Most notable is the shadowy figure that crops up behind Casey’s character at various intervals. These appearances, in addition to Casey’s facial performances, might be its strongest aspect.

To me, I think this was emblematic of the protagonist’s wrath and her darker impulses. The short carries her through finding ways to accept those parts of herself in healthier ways that permit her to pursue a life with her partner by the end. I can see several other possible readings, too, though, and I’d be curious to know the thoughts of anyone else who watched this week’s pick.