Out with self-censoring, in with obsession

“I don’t want to get twenty carbon copies of newsletters every week, popping into my inbox at ideal times for engagement, with similar word counts, with SEO-focused titles, responding to topics trending in the news. I want to get newsletters that come in at completely random days and times, focusing on topics that the author clearly is battling intrusive thoughts about. I want to get a newsletter that’s a pure rant about Cinnamon Toast Crunch. I want to open an email and read something with energy, something with verve, something with the strong voice of the writer coming through.” – Caitlin Kunkel, Best Practices are Boring

I’ve been thinking about the restrictions we put on ourselves; the things other people tell us that we internalise about what we’re allowed to do and how. Sometimes I start to believe all the bullshit people say about cohesion and branding, about knowing your lane and staying in it no matter what. And yep, there will always be topics I come back to again and again, like creativity and queerness and keeping both these things alive and safe in the shitshow of capitalism. But I’m no content machine. I love what I love. And what I love about having this space to write to you is that it’s mine. Somewhere I can do whatever I want. Like embracing queer failure and imperfection. Like disavowing fear and giving myself permission to gush about my obsessions with Velvet Goldmine and the Mighty Boosh.

I can make plans for what I want to write to you here, then fall down a Reddit rabbithole and just have to trust where we’ll end up. That’s something I’m trying to practice: noticing where my energy and excitement is and following it. Not having to have the answers beforehand and letting things unfurl in their own organic, messy way.

Still with me? Good. Then let me take you on a potted tour of the three films that cemented my deep Matt Lillard love.

Scream (1996)

I’m no ‘Stu Macher is alive’ truther, but god, I can see why so many people don’t want him to be dead. Stu, played by Lillard in the OG nineties slasher Scream, was my first encounter with the actor, and a character who wormed his way into my brain and has squatted there ever since. The manic energy, imagination and charm Lillard that brings to a character who could’ve otherwise faded into a forgettable sidekick is a testament to his skills. There’s not enough crazed joy in the slasher genre, but Lillard sure did his part to address that.

“I auditioned for Billy and they saw my face and thought: ‘no way that guy gets with Neve Campbell.’” he said, about the Scream casting process, which came from a chance encounter when he accompanied his then-girlfriend to another audition in the same building. “They had me go outside and audition for Stu. I got the part on the spot. It was hard… I had worked forever to get to that point. Acting is easy, but being successful is almost impossible.”

Which brings me to something else I love about Matt Lillard. The man is an absolute grafter, and he talks about acting with a deep respect and reverence, and a pragmatic honesty. “I found acting because I sucked at everything else and it was the one place where adults noticed me. I started because my dad said take an acting class or typing class. I took acting and it was the only place I could be funny and be rewarded. I found my place in the world. I belonged somewhere.” Yes, babe. On our screens, and in our hearts.

I could talk forever about Scream’s genre-redefining influence and reach. The entire cast is stellar, but on that first viewing and the many that came after, it’s Stu Macher who captures my attention every time. I don’t need to tell you how sexually formative Scream was for me – I literally did an entire spoken word short film about it – but I’d be remiss not to mention the hottest couple in Woodsboro High and their significant role in me recognising how decidedly not-straight I am.

Hackers (1995)

I went from Scream backwards in time to Hackers, my most-beloved film of all time. To the extent that I’m refusing to write too much about it here, because at some point it’s inevitable that I’ll do a deep-dive dissertation-length thesis about how incredible it is (the soundtrack! the fashion! the joyful celebration of subculture and resistance and teens on rollerblades! hallucinatory dream sequences featuring Johnny Lee Miller wearing PVC!), but Matt Lillard’s character Cereal Killer is a day-saving standout in sparkly midriff tops, John Lennon glasses and perfect tiny braids (“I’m that guy in terms of energy,” Lillard said about Cereal. “But I never braid my hair.”).

Cereal’s maniacal glee about the gang’s antics coupled with his quiet determination to come through when it counts is a big part of my enduring affection for the film. I’m sure a sequel will never happen – something I’ll begrudgingly acknowledge is probably for the best, because surely nothing could ever capture the lightning-in-a-bottle-magic of the original – but reading Lillard’s answer when asked about the possibility of a Hackers 2 (“nothing would make me happier, I’m there as soon as Angie and Johnny say yes”) brings me so much joy.

SLC Punk! (1998)

It was much, much later that I finally got my mitts on SLC Punk!, featuring Lillard in the leading role of Stevo. It’s a kinetic, manic, periodically psychedelic and ultimately totally heart-breaking film about subculture, anarchism, identity, community, belonging and rebellion. It was an important role for Lillard, “because I got to carry a movie. I got to be the guy… nobody has let me do that very much. I’m always a side character and every frame of that movie is me. Or mostly every frame. I got to be heroic, funny, dramatic… it spoke to kids in a real way, made an impact of kids in a real way. It was huge for me.” Lillard’s comedic talents and energy are rightfully lauded, but he gets to do so much more in SLC Punk!, and pulls off the emotion, pathos and painful moments with just as much commitment and skill.

I don’t need to go on about his career since then, which includes an iconic bringing to life of Shaggy from Scooby Doo; a criminally under-rated arc on Good Girls bringing a ton of multi-dimensionality and nuance to a character who does some seriously fucked-up shit; a directorial debut; co-founding a table-top gaming company, Beadle & Grimm (“we were all excited to have our midlife crisis but too boring to cheat on our wives or buy fancy cars,” he said about it, though this self-deprecating explanation belies the integrity of Lillard’s clear deep D&D knowledge and passion); and a hilarious turn guest-judging on the Boulet Brothers’ Dragula. But the dude seems solid: tenacious, committed, way more versatile than he’s ever given credit for, and – as far as I can tell from my various late-night internet deep-dives – people say he’s a good egg, and kind. We need more of that in the world.

So: thanks for sticking with me this far, on a piece of writing I almost didn’t let myself make, reckoning it might be too random, or not enough ‘on brand’ (gross). Then in the early insomnia hours of this morning, I mentioned in a chat convo with a friend what I was writing to you today, and they said: that’s the most you thing I’ve ever heard. Mate, let me tell you: I feel seen. And like maybe life’s too short not to give ourselves permission to follow our idiosyncratic obsessions and joys. If they’re lucky, people know them in you anyway. And if writing is about making connection, then letting you see the chaotic part of my heart that thinks about Matt Lillard way too much is what this space is for.

Originally published during my time on Substack in February 2024