Why ‘Closet Monster’ is a Modern Gay Masterpiece of Accepting Yourself

While there has been a resurgence of great gay coming-of-age stories, Closet Monster has been pushed to the side. However, it deserves to get its due as a queer masterpiece.

I have watched this movie 4 times before being able to put into words what this movie makes me feel. Closet Monster revolves around Oscar Madly as a 9-year-old (Jack Fulton) but, for the majority of the movie, an 18-year-old (Connor Jessup), who is told by his mother Brin (Joanne Kelly) and father Peter (Aaron Abrams) that they are separating. Harboring negative sentiments towards his mother, Oscar lives with his dad and hamster Buffy (voiced by Isabella Rossellini) and sees his mother sparingly. Later on, Oscar, at the ripe age of 9, becomes the sole eye witness to a gay hate crime committed in a cemetery where multiple teenagers insert a metal rod into a young gay man’s anus who becomes paralyzed from the waist down as a result. Okay, so he is not the sole eye witness if we are counting Buffy.

After a pretty cool transition shot of Oscar falling from a tree house as a 9-year-old and hitting the ground as his 18-year-old self, Oscar, along with his best friend Gemma (Sofia Banzhaf), are planning a move to New York City after graduation. Oscar is a burgeoning special effects makeup artist who is putting all his hope into his dream school. As Oscar eagerly awaits an acceptance letter, he spends his time working a retail job where he meets Wilder (Aliocha Schneider), who apparently has a jawline that can’t be found in Canada. After a less-than-exciting kiss with Gemma and a brush with Wilder, it becomes apparent to Gemma and Oscar that he is gay. The movie spans Oscar’s daily life as he butts heads with his immature father who wreaks of toxic masculinity.

Upon first viewing, I was far too stuck in the literal to understand the movie well. With a talking hamster, throwing up screws, and recurring stomach pains, I was just a bit confused, but then I watched it again. I was able to appreciate the blended figurative with the literal. While I am a big fan of movies, I rarely find myself on screen. I mean, that is not that odd in general, especially because I am gay. While gay characters are certainly on the rise and getting their stories told (finally), I never related to a character… until Oscar.

This is a movie that was not just entertaining but it helped me reflect on my life, my difficulties with my own sexualities, and how I came to terms with it. In the beginning of the movie, Oscar’s father gives him a dream one night, which is their routine where his father describes a scenario for Oscar to dream of, blows it into a balloon, and lets the air out on Oscar’s forehead. In this dream, he tells 9-year-old Oscar that he will be surrounded by sexy ladies. This was the first thing that resonated with me because I remember how I would squirm internally when someone would say something that would imply that I was attracted to women. From family to doctors and friends to even strangers, the world assumes you are heterosexual, and when you are not, little things like that can be extremely anxiety-inducing. Oscar’s father also regularly used the term queer as an insult towards Brin’s new husband. Peter is a prime example of toxic masculinity, presumed heterosexuality, and homophobia.

As the movie progresses, Oscar’s feelings for Wilder grow, which is made abundantly clear as Oscar masturbates to a shirt that was worn by Wilder. While masturbating, Oscar, to his horror, looks down and, instead of his penis, sees the very bloody rod that was used years ago during a hate crime. In an inversely proportional relationship, Oscar’s relationship with his father deteriorates rapidly. Their relationship comes to a head one night when Oscar dresses in some of his mother’s old clothing for a costume party at Wilder’s. His father, disgusted at the thought of his son wearing any clothing or partaking in any event that may be construed as gay, tells him he can’t go. To which, Oscar ironically kicks him into his closet and leaves the house. During the night, Oscar is offered a pill, which he takes.

In a drug-induced daze, Oscar is pursued by a handsome stranger. As they dance, this stranger attempts to grope Oscar, which makes Oscar quickly leave and attempt to collect himself in a bathroom. The stranger quickly follows him and, while never actually kissing him, begins to have sex with Oscar that seems to be less than fully consensual. This ends shortly as Oscar becomes sick and throws up bloody bolts. The recurring rod and bolts are a beautiful metaphor that periodically returns every time Oscar attempts to address or process any thought or action that may be seen as gay.

What I love about this movie is his relationship with Buffy the hamster and the fact that Oscar always carried a wooden stake as a child for a form of protection, which he dropped at the scene of the hate crime. It may seem like a less significant storyline, but Buffy is truly an important reflection of Oscar. Upon first viewing, I took Buffy’s words as her own dialogue, but the movie took on such a deeper meaning for me when I viewed everything Buffy said as if Oscar was saying it himself. Buffy always responded with what he needed to hear. When his parents fought as a kid, Buffy would confide in Oscar that she was afraid, which was his only coping mechanism for the shattering of his family. When he witnesses a hate crime, Oscar is rightfully frozen in fear. It is Buffy who utters “do something,” which makes Oscar step forward and help scare away the attackers. Buffy is able to convey some of Oscar’s deepest fears or feelings to him without Oscar feeling like he is approaching them head on alone.

On top of that, any gay thought or feeling Oscar has is always encumbered by the hate crime he witnessed. Whenever Oscar fantasizes about Wilder, Wilder is always pictured in the exact graveyard that the hate crime took place in. Throughout the movie, Oscar realizes Wilder is predominately straight. Although Oscar realizes there will not be a relationship between them, Wilder does help Oscar accept that he is gay after they share a kiss. I think it is important that Wilder has the obvious faults that he does. I like that Wilder quietly exits the movie with no real goodbye because it is indicative of what growing up gay is like for many people. At least for me, I grew up developing crushes on anybody that I thought may like me back. I mean, I felt like a complete outsider, so the thought of any boy maybe liking me back was honestly enough to have my interest; I think this is why Oscar gravitated towards Wilder so much.

As Oscar wakes up the next day, he goes to his mother’s house and has a heart-to-heart with her about the divorce and how he felt abandoned. During this talk, his mother tells Oscar that when he was born, he came out with the umbilical cord wrapped around his neck like a noose. What I thought was amazing was that much earlier in the film, Oscar is flipping through his photoshoots, and the camera briefly shows a photoshopped image of Oscar with a noose around his image. I really enjoyed the subtle full circle moment this conversation brought to the table. After this conversation, Oscar returns to his father’s house to find that his room has been torn apart by Peter. As he faces his father, Oscar admonishes his father for his actions.

Oscar leaves the house to find his mother urgently telling him to get in the car. She fails to protect Oscar from the scene of all of his belongings on the front lawn. Unfortunately, he discovers Buffy’s dead buddy and, along with it, his old stake, which was left at the scene of the hate crime many years ago. As a beautiful score begins, which I am currently listening to on repeat as I write this review, one of the most powerful cinematic moments plays out. All audio fades out as Julian Brewer’s Trance plays. Oscar doubles over in pain from a protrusion in his stomach. At last, he pulls the bloody rod from his stomach–a beautiful portrayal of his finally accepting his sexuality and pain as being valid.

Oscar steps toward his mother and father, who are arguing. As Oscar approaches his father, he raises the metal bar. Happy memories of his father from his childhood flash across the screen. Obscure images of Buffy and Wilder are intermingled with these memories. The music takes a powerful crescendo as Oscar yields the bar and is set to strike as his terrified father and petrified mother look on. As Oscar brings the rod down on the mailbox, the music ends. His father scurries into the house, and Oscar uses the very bar that has hurt him for so long to lock away the man who has hurt him for his whole life inside the home where he felt so much pain.

As the movie ends, Oscar goes to live in an artist’s residency. As he lays in bed, he hears his father’s voice utter loving thoughts. His father’s disembodied voice tells him he loves him and is so proud… And then the balloon pops. The dream is broken. It is just that. A dream.