Unknown, At Large

I’ve always been a “Monster Kid”. My earliest memories were being glued to the tv, or the silver screen transported away into the spooky worlds of Scooby-Doo, The Creature from the Black Lagoon, and Godzilla.

I’ve also always been queer. Being queer is something subsequently that lends itself to identifying with “the other”, the monstrous and misunderstood, something within you is different. You are born often feeling like a cuckoo in your nest of otherwise seeming heteronormative nuclear family. You don’t need a degree in Queer Theory, or much more than a working knowledge of Monster Theory, to understand the queer appeal of horror: identifying with “the other”, seeing marginalized women and men fighting back against their oppressors. I love ambiguity. I prefer a mystery. I want the unexplainable, the uncanny, eerie, even Lovecraftian cosmic horror (minus the historic racism). With Unknown, At Large I wanted to touch upon the unknown and leave it unknowable. As much as I grew up on late night horror films I also was immersed in the brash formal experimentation of New Queer Cinema, the All-American Surrealism of David Lynch, and the inclusivity and immediacy of punk rock DIY art. Film truly saved my life. It was my holy refuge from the isolating rural poverty of my upbringing.

This film was a labor of love, like all films are, a small miracle made of collaboration, luck, and a lot of punk rock scrappy hutzpah. I have been beyond fortunate to have found a team of collaborators willing to donate their time, gear, and expertise on the most micro of micro budgets to make this little nightmare possible. It was a global and local effort, a spiderweb of friendship and trust. Strangers became friends, a temporary coven of creatives, because making movies feels like magic.