Your Monster tackles themes of childhood neglect, feminine rage, and trauma responses like fawning. We dive into how Laura’s emotional repression—stemming from both physical and emotional neglect in childhood—shapes her adult life, relationships, and health. The film subtly explores how neglect, especially in Latine communities, goes beyond the physical and deeply affects emotional well-being, often manifesting as chronic illness. Laura's experiences reflect how people-pleasing and fawning behaviors become survival mechanisms when one's emotional needs are constantly dismissed.
We also examine how societal structures like capitalism exacerbate childhood neglect, forcing parents into difficult situations where emotional care is neglected. Through Laura’s journey, Your Monster reveals the profound effects of generational trauma, microaggressions, and the systemic forces that limit the expression of emotional needs. In addition to the exploration of emotional neglect, the film gives voice to Latine anger, showcasing how Laura’s repressed rage becomes a form of empowerment and healing. This is a story about confronting the monsters inside, healing from trauma, and seeking self-empowerment in a world that often tells marginalized groups they don’t have permission to be angry.
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Your Monster (2024)
After her life falls apart, soft-spoken actress Laura Franco finds her voice again when she meets a terrifying, yet weirdly charming Monster living in her closet. A romantic-comedy-horror film about falling in love with your inner rage.
Director & Writer - Caroline Lindy
Your Monster (2024): The Quiet of Latine Anger & Feminine Rage
by gabe castro
RED: Quotes, someone else's words.
Synopsis
Your Monster is a film that crosses genres blending romantic comedy, horror, and drama to explore the toll of keeping our emotions locked away in a closet. The story follows Laura Franco, a talented young actress, who’s facing a tough diagnosis: cancer. To make matters worse, her boyfriend, Jacob, decides to call it quits while she’s still in the hospital, for again, CANCER. After surgery and feeling overwhelmed by life’s challenges, Laura retreats to her childhood home, hoping for a bit of peace and maybe some clarity. But instead of finding comfort in her old space, she discovers a bizarre and terrifying presence—a monster.
The Monster, trapped in Laura’s closet, is oddly endearing and strangely relatable. He explains the other moments in Laura’s life when she’s summoned him, clearly Laura has been struggling against this neglect and pain for her whole life. She’s skillfully tampered down on her rightful outrage and becomes a convenient, quiet, doormat for those in her life. Her mother is absent, despite Laura just undergoing cancer surgery. Her only friend pops in and out, always distracted by something more important. Even her ex-boyfriend, who abandoned her in the hospital, is moving forward with his musical—featuring a character he created for Laura—except now, Laura isn’t the star.
As Laura grapples with the physical and emotional toll of her illness and her fractured relationship, she develops an unexpected, intense bond with Monster. The more time she spends with him, the more she realizes it’s not just a figment of her imagination but a representation of her deepest fears, unresolved rage, and her struggles to come to terms with her own identity and power.
Your Monster is a tale as old as time, mirroring the storyline of Beauty and the Beast (the Monster even looks like Beast). Only Laura isn’t stockholm syndrome’d into falling in love with an out of touch Prince who in turn learns to treat “the help” as people and not objects. Instead, Laura, in growing her relationship with Monster learns to accept and make room for the darker parts of her. She’s spent so much of her life shoving parts of her down, in the closet to placate others that it's literally killing her.
As Your Monster progresses, it skillfully blends elements of horror and humor to explore deeper psychological themes. It's a perfect blend of laugh-out-loud moments and genuinely heart-wrenching scenes, effectively using these shifts to mirror the internal conflict of Laura. As she grapples with her own trauma, the film emphasizes not just the literal monster in her closet, but the figurative monsters she’s been suppressing within herself. This relationship with Monster is Laura’s self-reflection, pushing her toward emotional healing and self-empowerment.
What’s Wrong with Girls Like Me?
It’s an exciting time to be a femme, Latine horror lover, with actors like Jenna Ortega and Melissa Barrera taking on empowering and distinctive roles as final girls. Barrera has been thriving in the horror genre, surviving ballerina vampire assaults in Abigail (also released in 2024) and leading a new era in the Scream franchise alongside Ortega as the final sisters. I’ve discussed in previous episodes the deep love Latine communities have for horror and how we make up a significant portion of the horror audience. It’s been refreshing to see that representation not only on the screen but behind the camera as well (shoutout to Fede Álvarez!).
In an article on Refinery29, Melissa Barrera's Your Monster Emboldened Me to Embrace My Feminine Rage, writer Sofia Aguilar shares, "there are a few great female horror villains like Mrs. Voorhees, Carrie, and Jennifer of Jennifer’s Body fame. But rarely are they Latinas, despite the fact that we arguably have more reason to be angry and rageful. We’ve faced and been forced to survive generational trauma, state violence, microaggressions, and cultures of abuse, just to name a few. Yet Latinas, and other racially or ethnically marginalized women, are relegated to side characters that die off well before the credits roll." By having Barrera as our star, we get to see the notorious “Latina anger” bubble up to the surface. A fury that’s been festering to the point of affecting our own well-being, all because society and culture have taught us we don’t have permission to express it.
Laura’s identity as a punching-bag, doormat isn’t exclusive to Latina women—it's something many femmes and women experience. From a young age, we’re taught to minimize ourselves, to take up as little space as possible with our bodies, minds, and words in order to accommodate others. It’s a constant argument I have with my fellow femme and women friends to not be kind, to assert themselves and their needs. Laura’s silence and placating is a distinctly feminine curse.
However, the presence of two white women as antagonists in Laura’s story is significant. Jackie, the talented actress, immediately secures the role—a role that was literally meant for Laura—once she shows up, and the casting department makes no effort to hide this, letting it be known that the other auditions were just for show. Jackie does reveal herself to be a true "girl’s girl," opening up to Laura about her own struggles as a woman who, despite her perceived power, was abused and taken advantage of. Laura’s only friend, Mazie, didn’t even have to audition; she was given a role solely because of her connections. She is also terribly performative, picking up Laura from the hospital because that’s what friends do but quickly departing despite her friend being in great need and still recovering.
Much of the real horrors of the film, how Laura is treated by others, are relatable. Her suffering does not exist in a bubble even if she’s silent about it. I even mentioned to Kat while watching the film that, statistically, men are more likely to divorce their wives when they become ill. Of course, this doesn’t apply to everyone, and women have been known to leave their husbands too (I think of the film 50/50 with Joseph Gordon-Levitt), but statistically, it’s simply more likely to happen to a woman. All this to say, separating the supernatural and horror elements of the film, this scenario is incredibly relatable and believable.
The metaphor of the monster representing Laura’s emotions is both obvious and brilliant. By framing the story as a romantic comedy, we witness Laura’s playful, comedic growth as she learns to fall for the monster—and, ultimately, for herself. At first, she allows the monster to have free reign, but as she begins to assert herself—adjusting the temperature to something more comfortable and playing her own song on the piano—her confidence grows. The monster pushes her to voice the injustices she’s facing, eventually leading to a violent outburst at one of the sources of her rage—her ex. In the film's haunting final scene, the lines between reality and imagination blur. Jacob confronts her angrily, accusing her of ruining his show, his reputation, and everything else. But Laura’s response is silent yet powerful, leaving Jacob as a lifeless set piece for her long-awaited musical number. In a world where white male rage is often loud and centerstage, it's refreshing to see Laura’s rage come through quietly yet triumphantly, leaving both the characters in the film and the audience in stunned disbelief.
Your Monster succeeds in weaving together emotional depth with the intensity of supernatural horror. Your Monster is ultimately a story about healing, the power of confronting our fears, and realizing that sometimes, the monsters we’re afraid of aren’t just the ones lurking in the dark—they’re the ones we carry inside us. It’s a perfect watch for fans of unconventional storytelling and for anyone who’s ever felt the weight of their own unresolved emotions.
Your Monster (2024): How Childhood Neglect Shapes Our Adult Lives
by Kat Kushin
RED: Quotes, someone else's words.
The Impact of Childhood Neglect on Adults
Your Monster does an incredible job of exposing the long-term effects of childhood neglect, painting a hauntingly accurate picture of how unresolved trauma can shape a person. It’s reminiscent of the emotional release I felt while watching Talk to Me, with its raw portrayal of loss and grief. Both stories dive deep into the impact of loss, and in Your Monster, we see how neglect spirals into repressed emotions that shape a person's entire life.
The film hints at two types of neglect in Laura’s past: physical neglect—her parents were absent—and emotional neglect, as her emotional needs were ignored. Through flashbacks and subtle references to her estranged mother, we see how Laura's lack of nurturing in childhood influences how she interacts with the world. She becomes a people-pleaser, burying her own desires to avoid conflict, and fails to express her needs in both everyday life and relationships. This pattern of neglect follows Laura into adulthood. Her boyfriend treats her like a stepping stone to his own success, tossing her aside when she’s no longer useful. Her friend does the same, offering just the bare minimum. Laura tolerates this treatment because she’s never known love that didn’t come with conditions. To her, expressing her needs feels like a surefire way to push people away and become too much to love. The ultimate blow comes when her boyfriend leaves her while she has cancer, reinforcing her fear that needing anyone too much makes her unworthy of love.
But the film doesn’t stop there. It subtly explores the connection between emotional repression and physical health. While Laura’s cancer is likely influenced by a mix of genetic and environmental factors, her unprocessed trauma plays a role. Repressed emotions keep the body in a constant state of stress, flooding it with cortisol and wreaking havoc over time. Research has shown that trauma can increase the risk of autoimmune disorders, cancer, and other chronic illnesses. Neglect and emotional abuse can be just as damaging as physical abuse, but they’re harder to identify and address because the scars often remain hidden until adulthood. These wounds frequently surface as behavioral issues, though not always, and are shaped by how children are socialized based on gender, race, and other factors.
What makes neglect even more insidious is how deeply societal structures, like capitalism, exacerbate it. Many parents are forced into impossible situations—working grueling hours just to make ends meet, with no mandated maternity leave to offer a lifeline. In these cases, neglect isn’t born of a lack of love but of environmental pressures, which can be especially heartbreaking. For Laura, however, the neglect she endured seems rooted in a lack of love. Even when her mother was physically present, it is implied that she wasn’t kind or nurturing, leaving Laura without the emotional support she desperately needed.
To understand just how infuriating and traumatizing this kind of neglect is, let’s look at the data. Laura’s anger is not only justified—it’s overdue. I once saw a reel that stuck with me. It said, “If your parents meet just 30% of your emotional needs as a child, you’ll grow up with a secure attachment style…THE BAR IS ON THE FLOOR.” Credit goes to soswithdrtaelor for sharing it, though this was a stitch, so the original video might have been someone else’s.
Dr. Taelor referenced this statistic from Donald Winnicott’s 1950s theory of “Good Enough Parenting,” which is supported by researchers like Edward Tronick, John Bowlby, and Mary Ainsworth. The idea is simple yet powerful: parenting is hard, and achieving 30% gives over-anxious parents room to breathe. It reassures them that they don’t have to be perfect to raise securely attached children.
But Laura’s story highlights the other side of this coin. Her mother didn’t even meet the baseline. There was no worry about how her actions impacted Laura, no effort to provide even the most basic emotional support. Because she never experienced even 30% of what she needed, Laura grew up expecting—and accepting—the bare minimum from those she loved. This isn’t just a story about neglect; it’s about how deeply unmet needs shape our entire view of love, relationships, and worthiness. Laura deserved so much more than she got.
Emotional neglect, in particular, leaves a lasting imprint, often leading to emotional dysregulation. This can make it incredibly hard for individuals to understand, manage, or express their feelings. Struggles with low self-esteem, difficulty forming emotional connections, and challenges with intimacy in adult relationships are all common outcomes.
But the impact doesn’t stop there. Neglect in childhood significantly shapes how individuals see themselves. Adults who experience neglect often carry a diminished sense of self-worth, feeling unworthy or inadequate. This can make it hard to trust others or form secure, healthy relationships. Attachment styles are also deeply affected, with many developing patterns of avoidance, fear of closeness, or difficulty establishing trust.
Socially, the effects are profound. Setting boundaries, expressing needs, and seeking support can feel impossible. Instead, people who endured childhood neglect may fall into people-pleasing behaviors, constantly seeking validation to fill the emotional void left behind.
In Your Monster, the titular monster becomes Laura’s outlet for all the emotions she’s bottled up over the years. Without professional, familial, or relational support, Laura turns to the monster to finally validate her suppressed rage. It gives her the strength to call out unacceptable behaviors and demand accountability. But while the monster helps her process some of her pain, it’s clear she never addresses the root cause—her relationship with her mother.
This lack of self-awareness leads to a dangerous cycle where her compounded rage spills out in destructive ways. Yes, her ex-boyfriend deserved every ounce of fury for his appalling behavior—but the sheer volume of her anger (and the fact that she literally murders him) speaks to a deeper unresolved pain.
Even though Laura’s rage feels cathartic—and maybe even a little justified—it highlights the critical importance of confronting the core wound. Healing from emotional neglect requires self-awareness and a willingness to work through the root of the trauma, not just its symptoms. Without this, the cycle of pain continues, manifesting in ways that can harm both the individual and those around them.
Fight, Flight, Freeze and Fawn
There is another component of Laura’s behavior in Your Monster that I don’t think is talked about enough in general, and that is Fawning. Most people are familiar with the typical trauma responses—Fight, Flight, and Freeze—but there’s a fourth one that’s often overlooked: Fawning.
Fawning is a trauma response where individuals cope by people-pleasing, over-compliance, and prioritizing others’ needs over their own well-being. It’s common in femme-presenting individuals and autistic people, often developing as a survival mechanism in response to childhood neglect, abuse, or other adverse experiences. Fawning is not just a conscious choice—it’s deeply ingrained, an automatic behavior rooted in the need for safety and validation.
Throughout the film, Laura fawns almost constantly. She bends over backward to avoid conflict, choosing harmony over her own needs time and again. It takes immense pressure and heartbreak for her to finally confront how poorly she’s been treated and admit to herself that it wasn’t okay. Her lack of self-awareness is striking, but it’s also understandable. Growing up, it wasn’t safe for her to be self-aware.
The origins of fawning lie in trauma and fear. For many, especially femme individuals, fawning can even feel like a matter of survival—because in a world where saying “no” to the wrong man can provoke violence, prioritizing others can sometimes seem like the safest option. Over time, this coping mechanism becomes second nature, driving people to suppress their emotions, ignore their needs, and focus entirely on keeping the peace.
Laura’s fawning behavior is how her “monster” became closeted in the first place. She buried her needs and emotions so deeply that she practically disappeared, shrinking herself to fit into the lives of those around her. When we finally see her express her anger and tell people off, it’s exhilarating—but it’s bittersweet, too.
The tragedy lies in what happens after. Laura doesn’t get a happy ending. Instead, she’s left facing life in jail or a mental institution. While her rage feels cathartic (and honestly, her ex’s murder is incredibly satisfying to watch), it’s hard not to imagine what could have been.
If Laura were real, we’d hope for something different. We’d want her to find the freedom she was denied—freedom from toxic relationships, freedom to heal, and freedom to love herself. It’s heartbreaking to think she might never get that. She deserved more than survival; she deserved a life where she could thrive.
That tension between justice and sorrow is part of what makes Your Monster so powerful. While we cheer for Laura’s moments of honesty and rage, there’s an underlying sadness for the freedom she’ll never have. It’s a brilliant ending for the film—but as an empathy piece, it leaves us longing for something more for Laura, something she never believed she deserved: real love, acceptance, and a chance to live unshackled by her past.
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