Attitude

TAYLOR FREY

Be a- Frey- d, be very a- Frey- d... we talk to the star of It: Chapter Two

- Words Tim Heap

“The hate- crime scene is pivotal and it means a lot to be part of it”

The horror genre is the movie industry’s Marmite: you love ‘ em or you hate ‘ em, and there’s little middle ground. I sit on the “hate it” side of the fence, rarely mustering the courage to watch even the naff est scary film. What makes it easier is that few of then win critical acclaim.

But one that certainly was well received is 2017’ s first half of a two- part remake of It, based on Stephen King’s 1986 novel that centres around an evil entity which assumes the form of murderous demon clown Pennywise.

Set 27 years later ( 2016), It Chapter Two arrives in cinemas in September and ( spoiler alert) opens with a homophobic hate- crime scene that didn’t feature in the Nineties TV adaptation.

King based the scene on the real- life murder of 23- year- old Charlie Howard who was walking with a male friend when three teenagers set upon them, eventually throwing him into a river where he drowned. In the new film, Pennywise is ultimately responsibl­e for the young man’s death — which prompts the grown- up members of the Losers Club to return to their home town of Derry, Maine ( a King favourite), and put a stop to the killings once and for all.

Taylor Frey stars in the scene as the murder victim’s partner, Don Hagerty, opposite out Canadian actor Xavier Dolan, who you might recognise from last year’s Boy Erased.

Taylor, 30, who started out in the entertainm­ent industry as a Broadway and musical theatre star, is also not a horror- movie fan — with It being the exception. “I watched the original mini- series, starring Tim Curry, as a teenager,” he tells me from Los Angeles where he lives with husband, Nashville star Kyle Dean Massey.

“Me and a group of friends used to watch it repeatedly,” he continues. “I thought it was truly terrifying.

“I had to see the remake and thought it was beautiful. I didn’t realise that as well as being a horror story, it’s a love story, it’s a story about friendship, about humanity triumphing over evil. And to have the chance to be part of chapter two is mind- blowing.”

Prior to being cast by Argentinia­n director Andy Muschietti, Taylor, who also starred in the long- running US soap, Days of Our Lives, had helped a few friends with their self- tapes for the same role, which gave him the upper hand when the chance to audition landed in his own inbox.

“I was familiar with the scene and I just thought, ‘ I have to commit this to tape’. I went full out. I can’t really go too much into what the material is, but I don’t recall having ever committed to an audition like I did for this. It was extreme.

“I had this thought in my mind: ‘ Am I going too far?’ Then I got the call a couple of days later, telling me the director loved my tape, and they off ered me the role.”

Do you know why the scene wasn’t included in the original adaptation? Was it considered too controvers­ial?

I’m not sure. I know people really wanted this scene in the film. Andy [ Muschietti] definitely wanted it in. It’s based on a real- life event, and Stephen King had such a strong reaction to it when it happened that he put it in the book. It’s a pivotal scene — it’s the start of the horror of it all, and it’s important because hate crimes still happen. And because of who I am and my upbringing, it means a lot to be a part of it.

How did it feel watching it back?

I had a weird reaction. It’s kind of bizarre to feel connected in that way and to see it play out in front of you. It’s odd to see your image go through some of that stuff; it was very arresting.

I bet. Your background is primarily in Broadway and theatre. How did you get into that?

I was in my second year studying theatre at Brigham Young University ( BYU), which is a private Mormon school

[ in Utah], and I just wanted a way out of there because it was a horrible experience. My brother bought me a subscripti­on to a website that showed upcoming theatre auditions in New York, and I saw that two weeks later they were going to hold auditions for Hairspray. I used my meal funds that my parents had given me to get a plane ticket. I stayed on a friend’s couch and auditioned, and they called me a couple of days later to tell me I’d been cast as Link [ Larkin] and was going to go on the North American tour. Doing that was amazing. I love that show, but the greatest thing was that I no longer had to be at BYU. When I got that phone call, I cried. I can’t even talk about it [ much] because it still makes me emotional. It was the fi rst time I had experience­d being free of something that I felt so oppressed by.

I read your blog post about how you’d nearly been kicked out of BYU because someone had falsely reported you for homosexual activity with a friend. Can you explain what the honour code in many US schools is?

It’s a strict set of rules that you have to adhere to. At BYU, it’s enforced by a group of people who call themselves counsellor­s, and any student can go to the off ice and report another student whose behaviour is not in line with the code [ not honourable]. This can be something like not entering the bedrooms of the opposite sex in the dormitorie­s — that one worked in my favour. But it could be any number of things, such as if you heard that someone had had any sexual activity, even on a date. You could report the student and they would be brought in for questionin­g.

And that was encouraged?

Oh totally, it’s the most incredible tattle- tale society. It’s damaging and it’s hurtful because you can be kicked out of school based on lies and rumours. I feel this fire in my chest when I speak about it because it was such a scary time for me, as trivial as it sounds. I know that I live in a firstworld country and I have food on my table, I’m healthy and I have many blessings [ but] those experience­s have really done a number on me. I’m still trying to let it go. It’s happened to a lot of people, some [ students] weren’t allowed to have their credits transferre­d [ to other schools], some people were close to graduating but were kicked out and their degrees were withheld. That’s why it’s scary, especially for someone like me who wasn’t out of the closet yet. I was afraid that had those accusation­s gone forward, I’d have had to tell my parents what they were about. That was horrifying. It was almost like I was being dragged through the mud. It was a witch hunt.

You’d told your religious leader about your feelings towards other guys. Was his advice to just bury those feelings?

Exactly. I had a bishop who presided over the religious community around my home, who you’d go to and confess when you felt you’d been sinning or having bad thoughts, or masturbati­ng… I mean, you name it. You’d go and confess so that you could become “worthy” again. When I talked to my bishop about having these feelings for other guys, he said: “Well, that’s not natural it’s against the laws of God, you need to do everything you can to put those out of your mind.” I was sent to a Mormon counsellor once and he told me that the Church believes that homosexual­ity will ultimately lead to eternal damnation. Those are such heavy words for a young mind. Eternal damnation? Let me get through junior high, for fuck’s sake.

How did it feel to escape that world?

After the Hairspray tour, I moved to New York. Not to be a total theatre nerd, but there’s this line from Wicked where Elphaba says that for the first time, she feels as if she belongs. That’s how I felt after a few months and I realised there were so many other people like me, and I wanted to be a part of the community. I remember going to a gym in my second week and being approached by attractive guys saying hello and asking if I would spot them. I thought: “Is this how other people feel in high school and college?” You know, having these fun, normal experience­s on a day- to- day basis in a community that accepts your sexual attraction.

Did that help you come out to your family?

Yes. I wanted to be truthful about who I am. I sent an email; I didn’t have the guts to have the phone conversati­on. I wrote a message, explaining where my mind had been for the past 15 years, that I’m gay and it’s OK, and listing some of the things that had been going on that have been really sad.

“A Mormon counsellor told me that homosexual­ity leads to eternal damnation”

Did that go well?

It took a second for my parents — they are allowed that. But they called me and told me how much they loved me, and my siblings were on board so quickly, mostly. I had a younger brother, who had been at a religious mission in Singapore. His mind was in a totally diff erent space. He said, “You can’t do this, don’t do it,” but he didn’t take long to apologise and tell me he loved me.

Were you surprised by their acceptance?

I don’t think I really thought that much about them. It was about living my truth. I sent that email thinking, “If any of them are opposed to this or do not accept me, that’s too bad.” I had garnered this kind of thick skin and strength at that point, based on my experience­s.

What’s your relationsh­ip now with God and religion?

I find the confines of a religion to not be the most productive for my life and spirituali­ty. But my relationsh­ip with God is, frankly, stronger than it’s ever been. It’s just different — much more authentic.

You’ve been married to your husband for three years. Does he have a similar upbringing?

He comes from a Catholic background and that [ presents] its own set of trouble. But we’ve been able to lean on each other in a lot of different ways. He was much quicker to toss out all that religious dogma. For me, it was more difficult — my Mormonism was so deeply ingrained. I mean, when I was two, I was colouring in very specific books that are all about an eternal family: a man and a woman at the temple getting married. So it took me longer, but Kyle has been amazing in helping me feel great and develop my own relationsh­ip with God.

You’re hoping to start a family soon via IVF and you’ve also set up your own egg- donor agency, haven’t you?

Yes. Hopefully, we have an upcoming pregnancy but we’re not there yet. When we started going through the egg- donor programmes online that help couples such as us, we felt they were sub par. As a gay man, I was looking to be as attracted to a woman as I could be, you know, almost like the same ignition I feel towards Kyle. I wanted to admire her and feel excited for her to be the genetic mother of our kids. That was diff icult to come by: agencies would shoot us selfies from donors that were fi ltered or had the Snapchat dog ears. I’m sure they were wonderful women but the way they were being presented made me sad about the process. When we did find a donor who we were excited about, she disappeare­d into thin air and we ended up losing money. I just remember thinking, “I can do this better,” so I launched my agency, Elevate.

Do you have a lot of gay couples coming to you?

Yeah, we do. In our first eight months, we had 100 pregnancie­s, and I would say probably 65 per cent of our clients are either single gay dads or gay couples. It’s funny, our gay clients come to us with excitement about finding a donor; they want to find their queen to praise and worship. They’re picky, which creates its own set of challenges, but whatever they’re looking for, we’re here to help them find it.

How do you split your time between that and your acting projects?

I audition a lot and it’s an exciting time for me because I’m waiting to hear about some amazing projects. I’m awake at 6am every day and go to the gym, then answer emails for Elevate. It’s busy all day, every day but I can’t complain. Part of the reason Elevate was born is because I did have time, and thought that I could be doing more to help people, to be more of an entreprene­ur. Think about Beyoncé… what doesn’t she do?

It Chapter Two opens in the UK on 6 September @ taylor frey

“I came out in an email. I didn’t have the guts to make the phone call”

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SEPTEMBER 2019
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