On October 16th, Boy Throb, a newly social media famous boy band, celebrated Darshan Day – the day their fourth member, Darshan Magdum, publicly performed with his bandmates Anthony Key, Evan Papier and Zachary Sobania after a long battle with the US immigration system. Key and Papier met after both unsuccessfully auditioned for American Idol, then got to know Magdum online and found a bass singer in Sobania. However, as the group started to produce music, they had a problem – Darshan was “stuck in India” without a US Visa. So Darshan filed an “O-1 US visa which is reserved for individuals with ‘extraordinary ability in the sciences, arts, education, business, or athletics.’” 

In October of 2025, the band began creating parodies of popular songs to explain Darshan’s situation in an attempt to gain 1 million followers, which they believed would accentuate the O-1 Visa application. My favorite is their version of “Mambo No. 5,” which they sing in a TikTok video with the words, “A little bit of paperwork ‘bout Darshan, little background check prove nothing’s wrong, letters of endorsement from top brass, little proof of income adds some gas.” However, despite Darshan’s undeniable talent, he received an RFE (Request for Evidence) from the US government, causing a delay in the application as Darshan was required to go through more steps to prove that the request for an O-1 Visa was valid. 

Another challenge that Boy Throb faced while trying to unite the band in the US was skepticism from fans and haters about the legitimacy of the band. Due to the multiple parody songs released, the fun, bubble pop feel of their songs, and the band’s commitment to often adding Darshan in their media and music videos via greenscreen or photoshop overlay, some even wondered if the entire musical phenomenon was an elaborate bit by docu-reality comedian Nathan Fields. However, Boy Throb called out social media messages asking if the band was satirical, responding that they were a serious band and doubling down by selling “Not Satire” and “Boy Throb is Real” T-shirts in their online merch store. They also put on a sold-out IRL concert called Throbchella in May of 2026. Continuing the momentum by collaborating with big artists like Kesha and singing the national anthem at an LA ice hockey game, as well as keeping up social media videos and releasing more parodies as well as original songs, Boy Throb was finally able to prove Darshan’s talent, and he publicly announced that he had received a US Visa early this August.

Given the increasing difficulty immigrants may experience with attaining visas during Trump’s current presidency, it’s not surprising that the number of skilled people emigrating to the US is dropping. Darshan’s fight was an underdog situation, and while Boy Throb beat the odds and are finally united in America, many talented immigrants have not had the same luck. And it’s not just a question of effort and skill – US Citizenship and Immigration Services (USCIS) has received over $7 billion in immigration fees according to 2023 and 2024 statistics (due to lack of publication by the current administration). While Darshan’s victory is well worth celebrating, we cannot assume that victory over the immigration system after completing all official requirements is the norm. Boy Throb and Darshan are the exception to the rule – in most cases, the US immigration system is nearly impossible to navigate and no longer welcomes emigrating individuals with open arms, inviting them to partake in the American Dream. Boy Throb is “4gether, 4ever” now, but sadly, not everyone gets to be.

With Halloween fast approaching, it’s about time for one of my favorite activities: watching Halloween movies. When it comes to Halloween movies, there are a lot of different options, so much so that it can be hard to make a decision on what to watch and what to skip. Here’s a list of the movies I’ve watched that I think are most worth watching and the ones that I think you could definitely pass on. 

Comedies

The best: the 1988 “Beetlejuice” takes the cake when it comes to Halloween comedies. The movie is funny and raunchy while still developing characters that I genuinely cared about. Visually, the movie is striking; it combines bold costuming with wonky special effects that create an otherworldly ambience in a uniquely silly way. This is a must watch for me.

The worst: 2000’s “Scary Movie” definitely has its funny moments, but ultimately, it fell flat for me. Too often, the jokes felt less like a critique of the movie it was parodying, the 1996 horror film “Scream,” and more like an opening for the writers to make fun of marginalized groups with the safety net of satire. I, personally, would recommend watching something else.

Horror Movies

I don’t watch a ton of horror movies, but of the ones I have seen, here are my picks.

The best: “Obsession” came out earlier this year, and it surprised me. Where a lot of horror movies center around psychotic or openly maniacal villains terrorizing the masses, this one gets a bit more relatable to everyday life. Instead, it centers around a villain who makes a series of choices that a scary number of people in real life might be inclined to make, themselves. This one is gloomy, uncomfortable, and sad, and I think everyone should watch it.

The worst: the 2023 “Cocaine Bear” is a definite skip for me. The movie was way less about the bear than I thought it was gonna be. Instead, it focused on a series of characters stuck in the woods with the bear, none of which I found likable or interesting. I don’t think you would miss out on anything by passing on this movie.

Animated Movies

The best: 2005’s “The Corpse Bride” has been my favorite since the day I laid eyes on it. As a huge fan of claymation movies, this movie was beautiful; the story is full of both joy and melancholy, and I find it just as entertaining now as I did when I was a kid.

Honorable mention: the 2009 “Coraline” (another claymation movie, sue me) is beautiful, suspenseful, and a little creepy. The story definitely gave me a deeper appreciation for my family as a kid, and it made me want a cat. While this isn’t a top priority on my Halloween movie list, I would definitely recommend watching it.

The worst: the 2006 “Monster House” creeped me out, and not in the fun Halloween way. The animation was freaky to look at, even considering it was made in 2006, and the story has never been compelling enough for me to get past that. In my opinion, your time and attention is better directed elsewhere.

Halloween Dramas

The best: 1998’s “Practical Magic” is a story of sisterhood that includes murder, laughter, grief, romance, and magic. It highlights the importance of women coming together and supporting each other, both within their family and within their community. This movie definitely made me cry when I watched it, which is a sparkling recommendation in my book.

The worst: “Practical Magic 2” came out this year and, in my opinion, fell very short of the precedent set by the first movie. It leaned more heavily into the comedic elements of the first movie, which could have been an improvement if not for the lack of emotional depth. The daughters of the witches from the original film felt more like plot devices than characters, and it seemed the joys of sisterhood explored in the first movie simply weren’t applied to them. I wouldn’t lose any sleep over skipping this one.

With that, I hope you’ve considered adding a few more movies to your list this season. Happy movie watching!

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.