[Editorial] Disability and Horror: Fresh (2022)

It’s time we had a talk. The film I want to talk about, Fresh, was a major hit out of Sundance back in March, and has already been the buzz of the horror community for a relatively long time. Fresh has been received as many things, but (thus far) I have seen no public takes on what the film has to say about disability. I want to change that, but to talk about this, we gotta dive deep. So when I say I want to march straight into spoiler territory, I hope you understand and take the plunge only after watching the film. 

Now that everyone who hasn’t seen it has walked on by (I hope), tell me. Isn’t Sebastian Stan the perfect psychopath? In fact, I may have coined the term PILF for him on my second of five watches of this film (sorry not sorry). But while he may be the perfect psychopath, he is decidedly not the perfect killer or the mastermind of this tale. That title definitely belongs to his wife. The cold-blooded leg amputee, Ann Kemp, played beautifully by French actress Charlotte LeBon. 

While I desperately wish they had cast an authentically disabled actor in her role, it still felt liberating for me to see a three-dimensional portrait of a wife and mother as a villain AND a disabled woman. This may seem like a small ask, but I assure you, it is not.

Women on revenge quests are definitely a thing, women who are out of their minds with rage or delirium or some such are definitely a thing too, but I have always craved better representation of women who are smart and savvy serial killers who also happen to be disabled. On my first watch of this film, I gasped at the reveal of her leg. On my second watch, sharing it with a friend, my friend also gasped in that same moment, then recovered and commented ironically, “but I thought all disabled people were angels!” This comment made in jest by a friend who knows me well, gets to the heart of why I love Ann Kemp so much. 

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If you’ve never heard the term “inspiration porn,” you don’t have to wander far to find a myriad of examples. Portrayals abound of D/deaf and disabled characters who exist on screen only to teach non-disabled characters a lesson or make audiences feel better about themselves after watching a disabled character overcoming odds that are almost exclusively related to their identity as a disabled person (see Mr. Holland’s Opus, Peanut Butter Falcon, etc). They struggle BECAUSE they’re disabled, we’re told. Look how brave and warm and wonderful and funny they are. Look! Look! Look! 

It is looking through the three layered lenses of non-disabled writers, directors and performers that people with disabilities have been triply blurred, dehumanized and decontextualized. Our disabilities are the least interesting thing about us. Our struggle to get up the stairs, as shown in Fresh by the character Penny, is, well, boring. Far more interesting is the adaptation made by the group, the inventive choice to use the dumbwaiter. Every person with a disability knows that moment, that feeling of “crap, I have to find a workaround.” But the struggle to contend with a society that doesn’t provide elevators is the real struggle, not missing limbs, and to mischaracterize our differences as inherently wrong is to miss the point of disability politics. I deeply respect the creators of Fresh for cutting away from the stairs so quickly and giving Penny agency in the fight from the start. 

I have longed for a film to come along with multiple characters written in such a complex and revelatory way that you might even miss their disability status. On my fifth viewing of this film, with yet another friend, I announced that I felt I had to write an article about this film. She stopped. “What?” I asked. “I didn’t even realize this film had a character with a disability in it.” 

We’ve become so conditioned to the narratives around disability that a film like this, and a character like Ann, really do feel radical. Within the disability community there is so little representation that for ages we’ve been told to embrace all representation, without regard for whether or not it is good representation. 

Ann Kemp, in spite of the fact that the actress who plays her (Charlotte Le Bon) is not an amputee, is better by far than the norm. She inwardly fumes at her husband’s infidelity, while keeping her cool in front of her subordinate, the shadowy courier of the secret underground organization. She dispassionately views her husband’s dead body, but rages at the woman who killed him, and who might bring an end to the organization she presumably has sacrificed much to control. Ann is overwhelmingly competent, but also human. She is icy and controlled, with clearly defined relationships and struggles, not one of which relate to her missing limb.

It’s so refreshing it almost hurts. Kinda like that pun.

To the executives at Hulu: consider this my passionate plea for a prequel about her origin story as a villain. I am here for all of it. 

To those who stan the Stan: I strongly suggest rewatching Fresh with new eyes to consider Ann Kemp’s fascinating arc, and value her as every bit the complex and nuanced creature she is.

Fresh is certainly many things to many people, but to me, it’s a radically different kind of disability representation that I can’t help but embrace.

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