Queer Tragedy in THE HAUNTING OF BLY MANOR
I don’t know why brilliant young women are always punished
Hannah Gross
The Haunting of Bly Manor
Episode 4: The Way It Came
June slowly closes in on me, and now it’s official: Toronto Pride is effectively canceled for the second year. Instead of celebrating in the streets with friends, I’m isolated at home, sequestered with my one-year-old puppy, Henry. At least I’m not entirely alone. Still, I couldn’t let Pride Month slip by without immersing myself in some quality queer horror. This year’s lineup included The Hunger, Black Swan, The Perfection, and my first rewatch of Netflix’s The Haunting of Bly Manor.
One of 2020’s standout horror series is one of its queerest. Created by Mike Flanagan, The Haunting of Bly Manor is based loosely on Henry James’s 1898 novella, “The Turn of the Screw.”
Warning: Spoilers Ahead
Bly Manor centers around Dani, portrayed tragically and beautifully by Victoria Pedretti. Dani is an American au pair caring for two orphaned children at a sprawling estate deep within the gothic English countryside. Jamie, Dani’s great love, narrates the story, recounting their doomed romance through a ghost story told on the eve of a wedding two decades later. Bly Manor is where Jamie found Dani—and ultimately lost her.
In 2016, Autostraddle began documenting queer female character deaths on English-language TV, tallying a distressing 214 casualties so far. Considering the already sparse representation of queer women in scripted television, this number is shocking. Within horror, notable offenders include True Blood, Buffy, Supernatural, American Horror Story, The Walking Dead, Teen Wolf, and many more.
Unfortunately, the Haunting of Bly Manor also employs the “Bury Your Gays” trope just as explicitly. Yet, I find myself oddly compelled to defend the series.
As a follow-up to the critically acclaimed 2018 series The Haunting of Hill House, initial reactions to Bly Manor were comparatively lukewarm. Viewers often criticized it for being overly romantic and less frightening. However, these fans are mistaken. Bly Manor is arguably the scarier and more psychologically disturbing of the two series. It ventures into deeper, subtler fears than Hill House dared to explore—and succeeds masterfully. Sadly, the price of admission is yet another queer tragedy.
On the rare occasions, queer women appear onscreen, their stories frequently end in death—a troubling echo of outdated moral codes that punished queer existence. Even half a century after Hollywood’s Hays Code, queer characters, especially queer women, remain mainly unable to enjoy the same narrative privileges as their straight counterparts. While horror has made strides toward inclusion, queer women’s stories rarely stay at the forefront, and when they do, survival is seldom guaranteed.
“She would sleep, she would wake, she would walk.”
Bly Manor’s primary antagonist, Viola—the Lady of the Lake—anchors the standout episode “The Romance of Certain Old Clothes,” which explores her tragic origins. Viola is implicitly queer-coded, forced into heterosexuality to retain control of Bly Manor. Her fierce determination to survive—even defying death from the 17th-century plague—comes at a devastating cost.
Viola’s strength ultimately becomes her punishment, a fate disturbingly common for powerful female characters. Her relentless grasp on life inadvertently steals years of happiness from Dani and Jamie. Dani becomes yet another queer martyr, sacrificing herself to save the children, perpetuating the troubling pattern detailed on Autostraddle’s haunting list.
“Change does not often announce itself. It does not trumpet its arrival… When one realizes it has arrived, it has already set its teeth.”
As a white, queer, cisgender man, I’ve begun to witness improved media representation, allowing me the privilege of seeing people like myself experience joy rather than only tragedy. Unfortunately, queer women have yet to receive this same privilege consistently. Horror rarely guarantees happy endings for anyone, yet queer women, in particular, are overdue for the opportunity. Dani deserved better. She played every role the gothic horror narrative demanded, yet happiness remained elusive.
If not for its troubling reliance on the Bury Your Gays trope, Bly Manor offers a profoundly moving conclusion—heartbreaking, rewarding, and deeply unsettling, much like the entirety of the series.
Although this Pride Month wasn’t celebrated as I had hoped, staying indoors had its silver linings. Quality time with my puppy Henry—already a year old and now the true love of my life—provided comfort, joy, and countless extra walks.
Until then… I’ll sleep.. and I’ll wake… and I’ll walk Henry…
Categorized:Editorials News
