Bury Your Gays
Chuck Tingle
 
   Tor Nightfire
   Fiction, Horror/Sci-Fi
   Themes: Artificial Intelligence, Cross-Genre, Diversity, Stardom
   ****
   
Description
Growing up, Misha never could've imagined he'd find success as a Hollywood screenwriter, but now - with a rising career 
   penning horror movies and TV shows and an Oscar nomination for a live-action short - his dreams are coming true... almost. 
   Deep down, he's still the scared boy who can't even come out of the closet to his family, though he's been dating Zeke for 
   over a year and his works are heavily queer-coded. At its heart, though, the film industry still clings to traditional 
   ideas, particularly the notion that openly gay characters don't get happy endings... thus, his latest argument with his 
   agent over his hit supernatural show Travelers, when he's ordered to either closet the lead detective duo or kill 
   them off in the season finale. Misha has invested too much of himself in the storyline to betray the characters (and the 
   audience) like that; it's too much like betraying himself and the boy he used to be, who longed to see people like himself 
   on TV. Thus, he fails to heed his agent's warnings about the consequences of defying the studio board - and that is when 
   things start going very, very wrong for him, as monsters out of his own works begin stalking him.
   Is it an elaborate hoax or particularly committed stalker? Is his mind cracking? Or is he up against something far more 
   dangerous and powerful than he can imagine?
Review
The entertainment industry can be downright brutal, moreso for those who lie outside the norms and push the wrong 
   envelopes in the wrong (read: likely to lose money) way. As shareholders and algorithms gain power over more and more 
   aspects of creativity and output, it becomes even more brutal, to the point where original ideas and outlier voices are 
   nearly eliminated (see also: why everything seems to be a remake or reboot or lightly-redressed version of the same 
   stuff). Even when Hollywood appears to make progress on issues like LGBTQIA+ representation, that progress is often 
   little more than window dressing, and all too often the maxim of "bury your gays" - eliminating non-straight characters, 
   not allowing them to lead or have happy endings - seems to hold true. Here, Tingle presents one half-closeted creator 
   who dares stand up for himself and his artistic freedom, only to find out the hard way how little the system (and the 
   studio's bottom line) tolerates defiance by the people it sees as mere profit-generating property.
   From the start, there's an ominous air as Misha drives into the Harold Brothers studio lot for his meeting with his 
   agent. On the one hand, he seems to be living the dream of countless would-be creators who come to Los Angeles in 
   general and the dream of the boy he used to be in particular, the one who grew up watching Harold Brothers cartoons and 
   popular TV shows and started telling stories to himself to get through the hardest times of his life. On the other, the 
   feeling of something off-kilter, something even predatory, sets in early, even before he gets the news from his agent 
   that he's being ordered to ax the queer love story he's been slowly laying the groundwork for in his TV series that's 
   meant to come out in the open with the season finale, and if he won't ax the story, he has to ax the characters living 
   it. He grew up watching Hollywood tease audiences with "queer-baiting" only to weasel out of their own plot developments 
   and clear story beats, betrayals that left a very bitter taste in the mouth of a boy who was still figuring out his 
   sexuality but knew on an instinctive level that a punch had been deliberately pulled - or, rather, the punch had been 
   redirected into his face, and the faces of a good chunk of the viewing audience, by studios that consider queer viewers 
   lucrative enough to string along but not lucrative enough to openly validate or embrace. Most of the horror stories 
   Misha pens, the ones that built his career, have roots in his past, and seeing them come to life on screens big and 
   small has been a triumph, but an incomplete one if he's not allowed to follow through on the stories that are most 
   important to him, such as the relationship at the heart of his popular TV show. He knows defiance will have a cost, 
   even for a current studio darling (his Oscar nomination makes him a temporary golden boy),  but is too furious to 
   consider how steep that cost might be... and even then, he can't begin to imagine the collateral damage to his friends 
   and even total strangers who happen to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, as his own monsters appear to be 
   coming to life around him.
   Even as Misha finds himself literally fighting a system that wants to erase, or defang and minimize, certain ideas and 
   content, he also must confront an industry that seems intent on erasing humans from the creative equation altogether; 
   in the first scene, as he enters the studio lot, he watches a big poster going up advertising a blockbuster movie 
   starring an actor who died three years ago - an actor whose performance was created entirely from CGI and AI via a 
   secret proprietary process, and the first such performance to earn an Oscar nomination. The fact that the actor in 
   question would never have played a villain role when alive only makes it that much more of a betrayal to the spirit 
   of the late artist, a dismissal of humanity in favor of marketing and dollar signs... one that audiences and academy 
   voters seem all too willing to validate. The decision to kill the core storyline on Misha's show is also spurred by 
   the number-crunchers on the nebulous board of directors behind the studio, based on algorithms and projected 
   demographic appeals and other data points and analytics and other ways to maximize shareholder returns while 
   minimizing actual creativity and humanity. By refusal to comply, Misha becomes a threat to the bottom line, and soon 
   learns that even a proven track record of popularity and profitability is no shield from a board that smells a chance 
   at even more profit (and hardly wants to encourage defiance in any of its property - Misha and the rest of the 
   creators and actors and other employees being mere objects of little more consequence than office chairs or potted 
   plants). Facing a rising tide of horror that threatens his safety and his sanity, he must dig deep into his own 
   convictions and his own reasons for creating art in the first place, as well as learn to trust his friends; just as 
   movies take a team to create, Misha will need a team if he is to survive the horror movie that his life quickly 
   becomes.
   Things move fairly well, and even the few lulls are filled with tension and backstory to fill things out. There are 
   several twists and (often dark) turns, and some real pain revealed in both the here-and-now events and Misha's 
   backstory, the events that led to him using horror as a medium to explore and process traumas. His friends sometimes 
   feel a little flat and convenient, but ultimately form a decently solid team, though Misha must ultimately be the 
   one to drive things forward, even through his failures. Along the way, Tingle plays with horror tropes, sometimes 
   turning them on their ear and sometimes having Misha's attempts to outsmart them falling apart as he underestimates 
   the forces set against him. It ends on a solid and satisfactory note.
