Universal’s Classic Monster Movies Prove That Gays Have Always Loved Halloween

Take it from me, a gay: the gays love Halloween. It’s hard to pin down why, for there are numerous reasons to cite. Halloween’s an excuse to be extra, the one holiday that celebrates that which is outside of the mainstream. There are plenty of divas to worship, your Laurie Strodes and Ellen Ripleys and Sidney Prescotts. There are lots of hunks to thirst for, too—especially if your very specific thing is Sam Neill losing his dang mind on a blue bus, on a haunted spaceship, or in a seedy bar bathroom by the Berlin Wall. I mean—Halloween is the only holiday that could and did give us The Paul Lynde Halloween Special, which is quite frankly enough proof that October is basically an extension of Pride Month.

But what I didn’t really realize until this October was that Halloween’s queerness is far from a new thing. It certainly stretches back further than, say, the debut of Uncle Arthur on Bewitched. Thanks to relatively new streaming service Peacock, I’ve been able to brush up on my monster movie history by streaming all of the Universal classics from the 1930s. And, to my utter delight, I’ve not only been learning more about the origins of monster movies, I’ve also been witnessing queer history play out—and I’m here for it. I didn’t know the Universal classic monster movies were so gay!

And I mean that literally: the Universal shared(ish) universe was partly constructed by one of the biggest gay icons of old Hollywood—if not the biggest. I’m talking about James Whale, the incredibly out and proud gay man who directed three of the first five movies in Universal’s 1930s monster movie canon. After Dracula kicked things off, Whale’s Frankenstein (1931), The Invisible Man (1933), and The Bride of Frankenstein (1935) set the tone and raised the bar for all the spooks and frights (and, weirdly, romance and slapstick?) that would come in the following decades. And it should be noted that Whale’s homosexuality wasn’t a secret. He wasn’t a “confirmed bachelor” with no time for ladies. He was gay gay and his relationship with movie producer David Lewis was very public. Lewis has even been credited as helping shape Whale’s take on Frankenstein; after reading the story, Lewis remarked that he mostly felt sorry for the monster. That reframed how Whale would handle the character.

There are gay undertones to Frankenstein and Invisible Man, for sure (although I may read the latter as gay simply because I now have the Halloween hots for the rakish Claude Rains). But it’s The Bride of Frankenstein—widely regarded as not only Whale’s crowning achievement but the absolute best entry in the entire monster franchise—where things get really gay. First, there’s the introduction of Ernest Thesiger into the mythos as Dr. Frankenstein’s erstwhile, maniacal mentor Dr. Pretorius.

Thesiger himself was also as openly queer as he could be in the 1930s, and frequently collaborated with Whale (gays supporting gays, we love to see it). Thesiger chews scenery as this mad scientist, laying the groundwork for pretty much every queer-coded Saturday morning cartoon and Disney villain of the past 70 years. Then there’s what Whale brought to the iconic monster himself in the sequel: he, essentially, gave the monster a boyfriend. Hell, a husband!

While on the run, the monster (who we should just call Frankenstein because, as the son of Dr. Frankenstein, he surely has the same last name!!) comes across a blind hermit living alone in the woods. The hermit doesn’t know Frankenstein’s whole deal (y’know, all the accidental murders and his existence being an affront to God, etc.). He’s just lonely! Upon meeting Frankenstein, he takes his new friend’s hand, clutches it close, thanks God for sending him a companion, and the two men just hold each other, weeping.

The monster doesn’t find a bride in this movie. He finds a husband and they are great together until society wrecks everything for them!

Perhaps it’s only after experiencing all the subtextual and behind-the-scenes queerness in Bride of Frankenstein that one gets major gay vibes from the next monster movie, the mostly unremarkable Werewolf of London. This one wasn’t directed by Whale, but there are undertones between the bitten botanist Wilfred Glendon and the mysterious (and also problematic) Dr. Yogami, a.k.a. the biter. The first half of the movie is built around these two men with the same predilection searching for and finding each other. Just look at this moment when Yogami confronts Glendon and basically tells him that they are the same.

There’s a lot going on there! Choosing a tender caress of the forearm while one man tells another that he bit him is a choice! This moment is sensual, as these two men realize they have a deep, animalistic connection to each other. It, of course, doesn’t end well. There are no happy endings for anyone in any of these movies.

But so far, all of this queerness was easy for the public to overlook. Your average 1930s moviegoer had no idea who James Whale was. They no doubt missed the perhaps unintentional, but very much there gayness of doctors Glendon and Yogami. By 1936, however, Universal made the surprising move to actually use homosexuality to sell a movie!

Dracula’s Daughter, the follow-up to 1931’s Dracula, starred Gloria Holden as the titular vampiress (and style icon). The film contains a scene wherein Holden’s hauntingly regal Count Zaleska requests to be brought a woman to paint. She is presented with the innocent and beautiful Lili, played by 18-year-old Nan Grey. The exchange between Zaleska and Lili is tense and the sexual energy is palpable.

Then Zaleska feeds on Lili.

While everyone involved in Werewolf of London presumably missed that very gay exchange, the PR team for Dracula’s Daughter saw this scene and ran with it. They actually gave the movie the tagline, “Save the women of London from Dracula’s daughter!” The tagline basically amounted to “Watch out: undead lesbian on the loose!” This was 1936! It’s wild!

What I love about this is that it’s a reminder that, for one thing, gays weren’t invented by ’70s game shows (although I see how one would make that mistake). We’ve been around since the dawn of time, and definitely the dawn of pop culture. We have always loved the spooks and gags and thrills and chills. We made movies that mattered and we found ways to give each other gigs and tell our stories. We even, apparently, influenced straight filmmakers to gay up their monster movies, too! And—most importantly—unlike the ghouls he created, gay mastermind James Whale wasn’t confined to the shadows.

Stream Bride of Frankenstein on Peacock

Stream Dracula's Daughter on Peacock

Stream The Werewolf of London on Peacock