For some incomprehensible reason, my local Pride celebration was held this year on the first weekend of October. The organizers and the local LGBTQ+ community center partner with our local art house to show queer-themed films in the run-up to the event. This year's slate includes a pioneering lesbian rom com (Saving Face), a key film of the New Queer Cinema of the 1990s (My Own Private Idaho), and the recent trans horror film, T-Blockers (2023, directed by Alice Maio Mackay). This last film kills three birds with one stone for me: I get to support art made by trans people, I get to support my local art house, and I get to add it to the pile of horror movies for this year's spooky season. Of the three, the first two are more important than the last, particularly in the present political moment. T-Blockers is in a tradition of DIY filmmaking that exists at the fringes of the horror genre and on the fringes of cinema itself, a swamp previously inhabited by the likes of John Waters, Russ Meyer, Kenneth Anger, Joe Christ, Maya Deren, Ed Wood, Adam Wingard and Simon Barrett, and The Blair Witch Project. This is not a commercial cinema, though some movies and filmmakers do sometimes escape into a capitalist marketplace. There are so few resources available to filmmakers in this sector that it's a miracle anyone makes any films at all here, so it is with some admiration that I note that Alice Maio Mackay has made six films before she turned 21, all while transitioning. That she is trans is an extra pair of concrete shoes to wear during the process. Maybe things are different in Australia, but the obstacles in her path have defeated more talented directors than her. T-Blockers is a bit of a mess, but it exists outside the demands of what constitutes a well-made movie. That it exists at all is a feat of will that most filmmakers could not muster. It goes to show that if you really want to make a movie, nothing can stop you.
Nota bene: you may find this post overly political. What can I say? I am a trans person living in 2025 America writing about trans art. If you don't want the politics that entails, you might be more interested in my posts on classic Hollywood films. Or engaging somewhere else entirely.
The plot of the film follows filmmaker Sophie, a young trans woman who is juggling a disappointing dating life, estrangement from her family, a crushing day job, and aspirations as a filmmaker. She is coming off a date with a tranny chaser, which disappoints and infuriates her. Her roommate, Spencer, comforts her and teases her with the latest video from Cryptessa, an online drag horror hostess who is showing Terror from Below, a "lost" film from the 1990s by a trans filmmaker. In the film, brainworms released by an earthquake take over select men who propagate anti-trans hate crimes. "Betty Palmer," the heroine of the film, hunts these creatures down and beats them to death in order to crush the worms. In "real" life, Sophie and Spencer live in a world where garden variety transphobia is background radiation wherever they go. The hate crimes in their own communities don't need a science fictional explanation, right? In their real world, an earthquake happens, then brain worms begin to take over susceptible men, including Adam, Sophie's chaser date. Meanwhile, Sophie meets a guy who she likes and who seems okay with her. His best friend has fallen down the rabbit hole of Manosphere propaganda and is acting out in increasingly violent ways. After getting evicted for fighting from the bar where Sophie, Spencer, and her friends congregate, he joins up with the posse of worm-infected men who begin to pick off vulnerable people. They eat our heroine's friend, Krystal, forcing them to unite for their own safety. Is the film from the past an actual genre film? Or is it a warning? Our heroines are about to find out...
There is obviously a metacinematic element to this film, and Mackay is clever in how she deploys it. Cryptessa, who opens the film, might as well be Criswell introducing Ed Wood. We meet her before we discover who she is in the scheme of the film, and she might be introducing T-Blockers itself. She IS introducing it, actually, but there's a sense of historical regression in the way films are nested into this narrative. Terror from Below is a deliberately awful production, meant to invoke the DIY aesthetics of the past, while providing a contrast with Mackay's own cinematic acumen. Her filmmaking is demonstrably better in the present day segments and goes some ways to elevating her own cinema praxis. Sophie (Lauren Last), Spencer (Lewi Dawson), and Sophie's brother London (Joe Romeo) all benefit from competent acting even when the script does them no favors, and when she's not providing an exegesis of the state of trans life, there's a naturalism to their presence. Not Cassavetes, mind you, but certainly on par with mid-range mumblecore. The film adds another layer of reality to the mix at the end when Sophie begins work directing a new version of Terror from Below. This film is an infinity mirror, some of the time, endlessly reflecting itself.
I am sympathetic to the way this film makes literal the idea that transphobia is caused by brainworms. It is described that way often enough, and this isn't the only time I've seen the metaphor made explicit in a horror production (Alyson Rumfitt's novel, Brainwyrms, also engages in this). The body horror playbook in which psychic phenomena--transphobia in this case--is made literal on the bodies of its victims is a blunt instrument sometimes. It certainly is here. It's worth noting that this is not necessarily a film for cis people, so if cis people find themselves not believing in the extremity of this idea, well, I don't know what to tell them. If anything, this film soft-pedals the threats trans people face, but this film is two years old at this writing and those threats continue to evolve. I am also sympathetic to the idea that testosterone makes one blind to it, and that hormone therapy creates trans people who can sense the brainworms. Trans people, especially trans women, have been a canary in the coal mine when it comes to rising authoritarianism around the world. It sucks to be Cassandra.
Sometimes, this film is much simpler than its role as a political narrative. Its last act is a revenge fantasy in which a marginalized community takes it to the oppressor with baseball bats and hockey sticks. Mackay also understands the catharsis of beating the living shit out of bullies. It knows that the appropriate response to a Nazi isn't debate (the film name-checks Jordan Peterson and Ben Shapiro, by the way), it's a gallon of gasoline and a match. As a fantasy, this is a catharsis trans people are rarely permitted. Particularly right now, in October of 2025.
When I was walking to my car after the film, I started to envision a TERF's reaction to this film. I heard it in the voice of Hannibal Lector in The Silence of the Lambs: "Do you think you can dissect me with this blunt little instrument?" Yes, I thought. I think we can. Brainworms, indeed.
Welcome once again to the October Horror Movie Challenge. This year's challenge is once again linked to my friend Dr. AC's annual Scare-a-thon. This year's beneficiary is International Rescue Committee, which helps mitigate humanitarian crises all over the world. The crisis in Gaza is currently foremost in their efforts. Donations at the link.
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