How Multwoh makes queer horror less terrifying

Maxinne Bolodo

There was a time when Philippine horror meant a candlelit hut, a trembling heroine, and an unseen creature rustling in the dark. Now, the definition of horror includes a satirical narration over a romantic plot where the lead might be falling for a man who’s either dead or a ghost. It’s eerie, absurd, and a little romantic. It’s the kind of chaos that makes you want to hit replay on the teaser for Multwoh.

For those who missed the surge of green screen and character comedy in Filipino internet culture, Sassa Gurl or Felix Patate is the wig-crowned, meme-certified queer creator who turned heavy blush use and deadpan delivery into a comedic art form. Her skits mix satire with sincerity, offering everyday Filipino scenarios a comedic twist that is instantly relatable. Now, she’s stepping fully into the spotlight.

The Multwoh teaser, directed by Rodina Singh, stirs curiosity with dimly lit corridors, slow camera pans, an ominous voiceover, and quick shots of a romance that can’t thrive because one person might not be alive. The story isn’t clear yet, but the mood shifts rapidly from suspense to absurdity. It hints at something that blends horror, comedy, and camp.

A thriving industry

In the past decade, the Philippine film industry has changed, thanks to the rise of self-made, independent productions. Filmmakers are no longer limited to large studios thus allowing them to tell weirder, bolder stories without needing permission. These films, funded through Indiegogo or Kickstarter, or those made on tight budgets, have opened cinema to new voices and visions from outside the mainstream.

This accessibility has encouraged genre experimentation. We’ve seen horror mixed with social criticisms, comedies filled with political satire, and now horror-comedy-romance hybrids like Multwoh. The rules are more relaxed, and the limits are only the filmmaker’s imagination and the audience’s willingness to embrace what’s unexpected.

In this way, self-made films have not only added variety to our screens. They have created a culture where a content creator-turned-comedian can lead a genre-bending film that may make you scream and laugh at the same time. That’s a win for the industry as a whole.

Alongside this change, queer media in the Philippines has been growing steadily. Queer characters used to be mere comic relief with little depth as “the main character’s best friend” or tragic figures destined for heartbreak. But as independent and alternative cinema has expanded, the scope of queer storytelling expands as well. Roles have gained more depth, representation has become more intentional, and a queer lead feels more normal than radical.

Even Sassa’s earlier small roles, like in Bar Boys’ sequel and Balota, were important for this reason. It presents a more visible queer character that goes beyond pure comedy and helps to normalize queer presence in Philippine films. It set the stage for a project like Multwoh, where a queer character can lead the story without being defined solely by identity.

What Multwoh meant for our Mima

Multwoh serves as an important milestone for Sassa’s career as the lead. It’s not the peak, but a door flung wide open for bigger, more varied roles; this icon isn’t finished climbing. From social media satire to impactful film appearances, she’s in a position to choose projects that suit her comedic instincts and her goal of enhancing representation.

The first impression from the Multwoh teaser? Expect horror’s visual style with moody lighting, suspenseful pacing, and strange shadows, but seen through a lens of absurd humor. The editing hints at jump scares but softens them with Sassa’s signature flat delivery. The romantic angle adds another layer of intrigue, especially with the twist that her love interest may be dead. It feels part-parody, part-love story, all wrapped in neon camp.

For queer media, the hope is that Multwoh shows it is possible to tell unconventional queer-led stories in mainstream spaces. A lead can be both a source of comedy and a character in a narrative filled with romance, tension, and agency. For the audience, the expectation is a film that’s as unpredictable as Sassa herself, meaning something that isn’t afraid to be weird, to blend genres, and to embrace its queerness unapologetically.

From candlelit aswang chases to mop-wielding ghost romances, Philippine horror has come a long way. Multwoh may have a light tone, but it’s serious in what it represents: the freedom to create without restrictions, the evolution of queer visibility, and the joy of seeing the unexpected take center stage. For Sassa Gurl, it’s less a finish line and more a first step into a more diverse theatrical future.