Horror movies are often associated with creepy creatures, haunted houses, masked killers and jump scares, but beneath the fear and suspense, many horror films reflect the political and social issues of their time. Filmmakers have used horror to explore subjects such as racism, economic inequality, gender roles, government distrust and class conflict. From the social anxieties reflected in 1970s horror to the racial commentary of Get Out (2017), the genre demonstrates how real-world political tensions can become sources of fictional terror. Horror is more than blood and gore; it can challenge audiences to examine the problems and power structures that shape society.

The 1970s marked an important period in American horror, as filmmakers increasingly portrayed ordinary people confronting violent, unpredictable worlds. Economic uncertainty, changing social values, and declining trust in traditional institutions provided a context for stories in which familiar sources of safety could no longer be trusted. Instead of relying exclusively on supernatural monsters, filmmakers began presenting human beings, families and communities as sources of terror. The Texas Chain Saw Massacre (1974) offers an example of how horror can reflect economic and class tensions. The film follows a group of young people who encounter a violent family in rural Texas. These antagonists include characters whose lives are connected to the decline of traditional slaughterhouse work as automation becomes more common. Their circumstances can be interpreted as reflecting anxieties about economic displacement, industrial change, and the loss of social stability. Rather than presenting the countryside as a peaceful escape from modern life, the film turns it into a place where violence and desperation threaten outsiders. These films helped establish a recurring horror trope: collapse of the systems people depend on for security. When family structures, economic stability, or trusted institutions fail, characters are left vulnerable to dangers they cannot easily control. The political significance of this trope lies in its suggestion that terror does not always come from an unfamiliar monster; sometimes, it emerges from the breakdown of the social structures that are supposed to protect us. 

During the 1980s, slasher films became a defining part of popular American horror. Movies such as Friday the 13th (1980) and A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984) popularized stories in which groups of young people faced unpredictable threats. These films frequently used familiar settings, including summer camps, suburban neighborhoods, and schools to turn ordinary environments into places of danger. The slasher genre also developed a recognizable pattern in which characters’ choices, relationships, and behavior could appear connected to their survival. Some films seemed to punish characters who broke social rules, reflecting contemporary debates about teenage independence, sexuality, and changing cultural values. This pattern can be connected to broader conservative concerns about morality and social order during the decade. Under President Ronald Reagan, American political discourse placed renewed emphasis on traditional family values and personal responsibility. Slasher films did not necessarily promote these political positions, but their recurring conflicts sometimes reflected the cultural tensions surrounding them. The masked killer became especially significant within this context. When the killer hides their identity, they often represent an unpredictable threat that cannot be understood through ordinary social categories. The familiar community becomes unsafe, and characters struggle to identify where danger is coming from. 

The terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001 and the subsequent War on Terror significantly changed American political culture. Public discussion increasingly focused on national security, terrorism, surveillance, and the balance between personal freedom and government authority. These concerns also provide a useful context for understanding horror films that depict institutions as threatening or unreliable. One example is The Mist (2007), directed by Frank Darabont. The film follows a group of people trapped inside a supermarket while dangerous creatures surround them. As fear spreads, the survivors begin to turn against one another. The creatures outside are frightening, but the growing divisions inside the supermarket become equally dangerous. The film can be interpreted as a commentary on how fear changes normal, rational behavior. When people believe their lives are in danger, they may turn toward extreme leaders, accept claims without evidence, or blame other groups for their problems. In The Mist, the inability to understand the threat outside creates an environment in which manipulation and conflict flourish. This is a recurring horror trope: the danger is not limited to an external enemy. Fear itself can weaken a community, making people more willing to surrender their judgment to someone who promises certainty or protection. Its portrayal of panic, authority, and social division illustrates how horror can explore questions that become especially relevant during periods of political uncertainty. When someone feels powerless against a large entity, it’s easier to attack their neighbors than accept their powerlessness.

The 2010s saw a rise in horror films that directly addressed contemporary political and social issues. Rather than simply using social conflict as background, filmmakers increasingly placed inequality, racism, and institutional power at the center of their stories. Jordan Peele’s debut film Get Out (2017) is one of the clearest examples. The film follows Chris, a Black man who visits the family of his white girlfriend and gradually discovers that their apparent friendliness conceals horrifying intentions. At first, the family seems welcoming and progressive, if prone to seemingly accidental microaggressions. As the story develops, their behavior reveals a desire to control and exploit Black bodies. The film challenges the idea that racism only exists through open hostility or obvious prejudice. The family members often present themselves as accepting and enlightened, yet their actions reveal a deeper form of racial domination. This makes the horror especially unsettling since the threat comes from people who claim to respect the protagonist rather than from people who openly identify themselves as his enemies. The film transforms social experiences that are sometimes dismissed or overlooked into an unmistakable source of terror. One of the film’s most memorable concepts is the Sunken Place, a state in which Chris loses control while remaining conscious of what is happening to him. Politically, it can be interpreted as a symbol of powerlessness: a person can understand the forces controlling their life while still struggling to resist them. The concept makes an abstract issue, the denial of individual autonomy, into something audiences can experience through the language of horror.

Peele continued exploring social inequality in Us (2019). The film follows a family confronted by mysterious doubles of themselves. These doubles can be interpreted as representing the people society leaves behind while others enjoy comfort and security. The film’s underground population raises questions about class divisions, exclusion, and the hidden costs of prosperity. Although the meaning of Us remains open to interpretation, ts use of doubles and underground spaces can be interpreted as an allegory for inequality and injustice in American society. Together, Get Out and Us demonstrate how horror can transform political structures into physical threats. Racism becomes a form of bodily control, and class inequality becomes a conflict between people whose lives are connected but whose experiences are radically different.

In the 2020s, horror continued to explore political questions surrounding race, inequality, institutional power, and the historical consequences of discrimination. These themes have become particularly visible in films that revisit familiar horror stories from new perspectives. Candyman (2021), for example, revisits the mythology of the original 1992 film through a contemporary story about art, racial history, and violence in Chicago. The film connects its supernatural elements to the continuing legacy of racial injustice and challenges the idea that a community can simply move beyond its traumatic past without confronting it. This approach reflects a broader horror trope: the return of something that society has tried to bury. A ghost, monster, or curse can represent unresolved historical violence. The supernatural threat becomes a reminder that past injustices continue to shape the present, even when people would rather forget them.

Another example is the continuing Purge franchise, which began with The Purge in 2013 and developed further throughout the 2010s and into the 2020s. The series imagines a fictional United States in which most crimes are temporarily permitted during an annual period of violence. The government presents the event as a way to strengthen society, but the films repeatedly raise questions about who benefits from the system and who is left vulnerable. The premise turns political inequality into a literal survival scenario; wealthier characters can purchase security, while poorer and marginalized people are left exposed. Political authority is not simply absent; it actively creates the conditions that allow some people to indulge their darkest urges. The franchise demonstrates how horror can question the assumption that laws and government institutions always protect the public equally. By imagining an extreme political system, the films encourage audiences to consider how access to safety, resources, and protection can be distributed unequally in the real world.

Over the past fifty years, horror has developed into a genre capable of exploring some of society’s most difficult political questions. The economic anxiety reflected in The Texas Chain Saw Massacre, the racial and urban tensions explored in Candyman, the social panic of The Mist, and the critiques of racism and inequality in Get Out, Us, and The Purge demonstrate how horror tropes change alongside cultural concerns. The monster, the haunted house, the masked killer, and the invasion of a seemingly safe home are not simply tools for frightening audiences. Depending on the film, they can represent economic insecurity, racial oppression, institutional failure, or the fear of losing control over one’s own life. These meanings are not always intentional or universally agreed upon, and horror films can reflect the prejudices of their time as well as challenge them. Politics influences horror because the genre gives filmmakers a way to turn invisible social problems into visible threats. Inequality becomes a monster, prejudice becomes a trap, and distrust becomes a physical, tangible threat. By exaggerating the dangers that exist within society, horror encourages audiences to question what they consider normal, whom they trust, and which problems they have learned to ignore. The genre’s greatest source of fear is not the supernatural world itself, but the possibility that the real world already contains the conditions that make its nightmares believable.

On August 25th, 2026, Dolly Parton and Tim Curry passed away, both at the age of 80. Parton had been battling cancer for a short time, while Curry passed away as a result of coronary artery disease. Millions of people mourned the passing of these two public figures loved by many around the world.

Remembering Dolly Parton

In March of 2025, Parton’s husband of nearly 60 years, Carl Dean, passed away. In a statement released days before her death, Parton revealed that she was “dealing with some health issues that [she] just didn’t pay attention to when [she] was watching over Carl.” In 2025, she publicly spoke about her feelings when Dean passed, saying that “it’s a big adjustment just trying to change patterns and habits. I’ll do fine, and I’m very involved in my work and that’s been the best thing that could happen to me. But I’ll always miss him, of course, and always love him. He was a great partner to me.” In the year after Dean’s death, Dolly Parton did just that: work. Following her death, Parton’s manager, Dany Nozell, issued a press release which stated that “Dolly worked up until the day she died. She loved seeing her dreams come to life, and loved knowing her work brought people joy. Ever the planner, Dolly worked with the team that she handpicked, for the past several years to build a project roadmap that will guide us for decades to come.” Nozell also added, “If you see unreleased music, products, books, experiences and campaigns launched through official Dolly Parton channels, you can have confidence in knowing that she placed her personal stamp on it.” Some of the active Parton projects include Dolly Parton’s SongTeller Hotel, Dolly’s Life of Many Colors Museum, a collaboration with Kendra Scott, DOLLY: A True Original Musical On Broadway and much more. Most of these projects are set to launch in late 2026 or early 2027.

Parton also took part in extensive philanthropic work. Starting in the 80’s, Parton created the Dollywood Foundation to reduce high school dropout rates in Sevier County, Tennessee, where Parton was originally from. She went on to create the Imagination Library, which provided free books to young children in the county. Today, the Dollywood Foundation still offers scholarships to Sevier County high schoolers, and the Imagination Library now services children all over the USA and has even extended into Canada, the United Kingdom, the Republic of Ireland and Australia, donating over 300 million books as of 2025. Parton’s kindness didn’t stop there; over the years, she has supported research into pediatric infectious diseases, donated to the Salvation Army and hospitals, advocated for equality and LGBTQ+ rights, and so much more.

Dolly Parton had an astounding impact on the world; her absence from it will be felt deeply. Shortly after her death, her goddaughter Miley Cyrus took to Instagram to write, “The feeling of losing my Aunt Dolly is beyond what feels right to share. Our most sacred moments were private and they’ll stay there behind the stage, beneath the glamour & between our hearts. What I KNOW is Dolly would want me to feel it, write a song about it, and then continue on and be strong. I have an angel by my side. I always have. One of our last conversations was about music and metamorphosis… I will always love her and want to make her proud. My heart breaks for the world, her family and friends who will miss her deeply. We’re in this loss together and we will see her in all of the most beautiful things.”

Remembering Tim Curry

While a stroke in 2012 limited Curry’s ability to work from that point on, the work he’s put out in his lifetime has also been immensely impactful. Possibly most memorable was his role as Dr. Frank-N-Furter in “The Rocky Horror Picture Show,” where he performed in a corset, full makeup and fishnets, a look heavily inspired by drag queens and a historical moment of representation for the queer community. His frequent presence in children’s media like “The Wild Thornberrys,” “Home Alone 2” and “Muppet Treasure Island” made him an integral part of many Americans’ childhoods. Even those born after these works were initially released likely grew up with Tim Curry on their screens at home. 

The impact of Curry’s work reaches far and wide, and even when his stroke restricted him to mostly voice acting, he kept going with projects like “Star Wars: The Clone Wars,” a popular animated series, and “The Rocky Horror Picture Show: Let’s Do the Time Warp Again,” which Curry narrated and appeared in as his first live-action role following the stroke.  Being involved in this work allowed him to express his sense of humor, which Curry said was “absolutely vital” to him, explaining, “It’s not tough to maintain. It is just part of my DNA.”

One thing is for certain: Tim Curry will be missed. There has been an outpouring of love from actors he’s worked with in the past. Susan Sarandon, who worked with him on “The Rocky Horror Picture Show,” took to Instagram to write, “What I loved about him most was his heart. Even wheelchair-bound he continued to be so sweet and generous with his fans. Thank you Tim for meaning so much to so many people. Love you, S.” Nell Campbell, another member of the cast, released a statement saying that “He was a wit, kind, thoughtful, generous, quite shy, bookish, loved you being naughty and joyful company. Had Tim not been cast in the original stage show of ‘Rocky Horror,’ who knows if the film would have followed. I will miss him tremendously.” Joe Mantegna wrote in an Instagram post, “Of my 17 years on Criminal Minds, one of my greatest joys was being able to work with Tim Curry. Rest in peace dear Tim.”

Their Legacies

Dolly Parton and Tim Curry will certainly not be forgotten. The amount of creativity and passion they put into their careers truly spoke to people, which is why they became such beloved figures. Even with them gone, the work they made over the course of their lives will continue to live in the hearts of their fans.

The new HBO max series, Heated Rivalry, centers on two NHL superstars playing for rival teams whose public animosity hides a private, long-running relationship. What begins as an impulsive encounter develops into a years-long connection shaped by playoff battles, media pressure, and the constraints of being closeted in professional hockey.

One of the show’s strongest elements is the acting, particularly from Connor Storrie and Hudson Williams. The two leads are relatively new actors, and that works in the show’s favor. Their performances feel natural and unforced, which keeps the romance believable. They commit to the relationship without overselling it. They play the awkwardness, competitiveness, and gradual emotional shift with restraint. The chemistry builds in a way that feels consistent rather than exaggerated. It also helps that the actors seem comfortable with each other off-screen; that familiarity translates into small, convincing moments in scenes. The quieter exchanges like pauses in conversation and subtle shifts in expression, are handled with as much care as the more overtly romantic scenes.

Despite operating on a noticeably modest budget, the show makes strategic choices that keep the focus where it belongs: on the characters. The hockey scenes rely on tight camera work and editing rather than sweeping arena spectacle, which prevents the sport from overshadowing the relationship. Many of the most important moments happen in confined spaces (such as locker rooms, hotel rooms and apartments) to emphasize the secrecy and isolation that define their connection. 

What distinguishes the series from many mainstream sports dramas is its focus on a queer relationship between two men who are genuine equals. Both are elite athletes at the top of their careers. They share comparable status, income, skill, and public recognition. Because of that symmetry, their conflicts are not driven by hierarchy but by personality differences and emotional hesitation. The tension comes from pride, rivalry and the difficulty of sustaining intimacy under constant scrutiny, not from one character holding structural power over the other.

The show also presents a version of masculinity that is competitive without being toxic. On the ice, the players are aggressive and focused on their performance, reflecting the intensity of professional hockey. Off the ice, the series allows them to show vulnerability, frustration and care for each other. Their emotional restraint is portrayed as part of navigating the sport’s culture, not as an inherent personality trait.Ultimately, Heated Rivalry stands out because it keeps the story grounded and focused. The relationship develops gradually through rivalry, hesitation, and small moments of trust rather than big dramatic gestures. By showing two equal men navigating intimacy in a competitive, high-pressure environment, the series portrays a believable and relatable romance.

Everyone’s favorite Disney Channel icon turned pop star has released a new album, and it is blowing up the Billboard 200 charts. Sabrina Carpenter’s new album “Man’s Best Friend” has continued her pattern of irony and innuendos in songs, while mixing in her impressive vocal range. Carpenter is a world renowned pop sensation that took over the world by storm in 2022 with her first album emails i can’t send. Her song Manchild was released prior to the album as a single and fans went wild. Atwood Magazine’s writer Danielle Holian stated that the song was, “bold, theatrical, and playfully pissed off. More importantly, it feels fun.” The song is about how Carpenter tends to fall for men that act like “manchildren,” —something that almost all women can relate to.

Bold music can be seen throughout the rest of “Man’s Best Friend” as well. One of the leading songs of the album is called “Tears,” and it is one of Carpenter’s many double-meaning songs. The song centers around the idea that all a man has to do to earn a woman’s love is be responsible. She mentions examples such as doing the dishes or assembling a piece of IKEA furniture. Her words hint at a very real critique in society where women don’t always want grand gestures but would rather choose a man who listens to them.   Another song that is receiving love on this album is “When Did You Get Hot?” This song is centered around a scenario where Carpenter runs into an old friend that she didn’t find  attractive as a young girl. However, when she runs into him  later she realizes that he has “become hot all of a sudden.” This cheeky song is meant to highlight the emotions a person can feel when it comes to running into an old acquaintance with a new look. Whether it be after you have had a glow-up or the other person has, there is always some level of surprise and satisfaction for either party.

Despite the album’s success and songs landing spots in the top 3 of the Billboard 100, Carpenter has repeatedly faced criticism for the album’s cover photo. The picture is of her on all fours as a man holds her hair as a leash. Sara Delgado, a writer for Teen Vogue, stated in an article that, “Many have pointed out the image bears a strong resemblance to ‘misogynistic ads from the ’60s.’” and “others claim that the photograph is intended for the male gaze.” However, even with this criticism brought forth by fans, the album is continuing to earn a top spot on the Billboard 100, and in the hearts of listeners everywhere. This new wave of testing boundaries in music is continuing to grow in popularity, and it looks like the singing powerhouse Sabrina Carpenter is just getting started.