Saint Drogo (Soho Horror Festival 2023)(Review)

In Catholicism, Drogo is considered to be the patron saint of the unsightly and the outcast, shepherding a flock made up of those who are exiled and shunned for their perceived ugliness. The Flemish martyr’s relevance to Provincetown, Massachusetts (a small holiday town on the New England coast), may not be immediately apparent, but “P-Town” regulars know that it’s regarded as a haven for the LGBTQ+ populace of the North-East region of the United States – a sanctuary for those shunned by a heteronormative society.

Provincetown also happens to be the setting for Saint Drogo – the second regional feature from Rhode Island-based indie LGBTQ+ horror production outfit Monster Makeup LLC. Headed by the filmmaking trio of Brandon Perras-Sanchez, Michael J. Ahern and Ryan Miller, the Monster Makeup team were responsible for 2020’s great and gruesomely funny Death Drop Gorgeous – a micro-budget drag scene slasher that felt like a Herschell Gordon Lewis splatter picture by way of RuPaul’s Drag Race. With Saint Drogo they made the bold decision to swap the schlocky, delightfully crude camp factor of their debut for a serious and sincere slow-burn that’s more indebted to the woozy, hazy, vibe-driven regional U.S. horrors of the ‘70s than the heightened gorefests of ‘80s Italy, or the gleefully irreverent romps of early John Waters. In typical fashion for LGBTQ+ genre cinema, it’s a refusal to be put into a box of what queer horror should and shouldn’t be.

Saint Drogo follows Caleb (Brandon Perras-Sanchez), a struggling freelance tattoo artist from Providence, Rhode Island, and his workaholic boyfriend Adrian (Michael J. Ahern). Their relationship has become progressively strained, with Adrian’s all-consuming work commitments meaning that the two rarely get to spend time together. A strange, grotesque recurring nightmare that Caleb has about his missing ex, Isaac (Tradd Sanderson), prompts the two to take a short vacation to the New England coast. Adrian hopes that this time off will help the couple de-stress and rekindle their romance, but for Caleb the trip has a far more pressing and serious purpose, as he believes that his lost love may have suffered a sinister fate whilse staying in Provincetown over the Autumnal period. Upon their arrival at the near-desolate seaside settlement on the verge of closing for the Winter season, Caleb immediately feels that the vibes are off, and that time is running out for the two of them.

Described by some as “folk horror”, I’d argue that Saint Drogo is more in line with the works of Providence’s own H.P. Lovecraft as there’s more than a hint of Innsmouth found in P-Town and its residents in this film. It wouldn’t be the first time that there’s been a queer take on Lovecraftian tropes (Dan Gildark’s Cthulhu (2007) would pair nicely with this as a double-feature), but that’s not a bad thing, and I welcome any and all LGBTQ+ weird fiction with open arms because I think the world needs more of it – to paraphrase Larry Cohen, “enough will never be enough”.

One of the highlights of Death Drop Gorgeous was its cringe-inducingly nasty gore effects work, and Saint Drogo is no different, opening with a sequence of bloodshed that proves there’s more than one way to get your guts rearranged on the beach in Provincetown.

Yet for all of its pretty visuals, spooky location work and a great droning score by Gem Club, Saint Drogo struggled to bring me into its phantasmagoric world of dreams and disassociation. Perhaps this is because some viewers’ reactions lured me in with misleading promises of full-blooded folk horror, but I feel as though the film never really gave me a proper sense of Provincetown, the people that live there, and its gay scene. It felt as though the film expected me to know and have experience of the culture of the town prior to viewing, and that I would already be fully aware of the specific issues that it tackles within that community. Sure, Death Drop Gorgeous’s focus wasn’t necessarily on its setting, but I felt as though I got a strong sense of the culture, customs and struggles of Providence’s drag scene and gay community, so even if not exactly “folk horror” per se, a lot of Saint Drogo’s atmosphere is dependant on its location and its important connections to the LGBTQ+ community.

There’s rich thematic meat here to sink your teeth into, for sure, but the layers of skin shielding them are thick and tough. I do appreciate the slow-burn approach, but I feel a large amount of Saint Drogo is kept far too vague for its own good – almost up until the last minute, and even when it comes to our lead couple and their relationship, the film never really confirms what their dynamic is. I can assume that a lot of Saint Drogo is based upon experience, in particular with Adrian and Caleb’s surprisingly casual yet jealousy-ridden hookup with townie Myron (Death Drop Gorgeous’s Michael McAdam), yet I felt as though we never really get a solid sense of the ins-and-outs of their relationship (in the aforementioned case, rather literally). Perhaps for gay men, and more specifically gay men from New England, the interactions and hallmarks of gay male culture and cruising will seem less underdeveloped here than they do to a transgender lesbian from Northern England. Whether conscious or not, aspects of this felt a bit “locals only”, which isn’t inherently bad, but meant that some of the movie may have been lost in translation for me.

Still, I feel the need to stress that I do recommend Saint Drogo – not least because it’s an independent work of out-and-proud LGBTQ+ horror, full of unapologetic queer representation, and using gay sex as storytelling in ways which would make the average discourse-hungry social-media Puritan combust in shock. If you’re even reading this review, there’s a good chance that you’re predisposed to love all that Saint Drogo does, and believe me, there’s plenty to appreciate – especially when the film revels in the grotesque. One of the highlights of Death Drop Gorgeous was its cringe-inducingly nasty gore effects work and Saint Drogo is no different, opening with a sequence of bloodshed that proves there’s more than one way to get your guts rearranged on the beach in Provincetown.

Saint Drogo wasn’t necessarily for me, but there’s a good chance that it might be for you. I heavily anticipate this one getting a fan following on the festival scene, particularly when it comes to the queer horror-championing Soho Horror Fest. Whatever the case, please check it out and ensure that this home-made coastal horror isn’t dead and buried.

Robyn’s Archive – Saint Drogo (2023)