“Wish Fulfilment in the Most Fucked-Up Way Possible”: Director Carter Smith on the Queer Body Horror of Swallowed

With Swallowed hitting streaming on Arrow Player, Smith talks the allure of small-town stories; writing campy, unhinged drug lords; and the intimacy of the horror genre

Words by Dan Theophanous 21 August 2025

© Momentum Pictures

The films of Carter Smith tend to fall into one of three categories: queer horror, body horror, or a mixture of the two. His first, Bugcrush (2006), won best short at Sundance, opening the door to his gnarly debut feature, The Ruins (2008), an underrated psychological thriller with generous helpings of gore. Beyond contributing to Blumhouse’s Into the Dark anthology series (“Midnight Kiss”, 2019), Smith has churned out slick, moody endeavours underlined by unrequited queer longing in small-town America (Jamie Marks is Dead, 2014; The Passenger, 2023).

With Swallowed (2022), the fashion-photographer-turned-director returned to queer body horror to gritty, unsettling effect. Putting a hyperrealist spin on body packing, the two protagonists are forced to use their bodies as drug trafficking vessels—except what is smuggled is not your average Class A drug, but creepy, undulating arthropods whose bite, in moderation, induces all sorts of aphrodisiac properties. Smith underpins the horror that unfolds with an ill-fated queer love story between Benjamin (Cooper Koch) and his straight best friend Dom (José Colón), who find a deeper connection in the most gruesome of circumstances.

To celebrate Swallowed’s UK and Ireland streaming release on Arrow Player, Smith called us via Zoom from his family home in rural Maine to unpack the film. 

Swallowed taps into a body horror story that could happen in real life. How did you find that premise? 

From the beginning, Swallowed was a film that I knew I would make on my own with very little funding and a tiny crew, and I would shoot somewhere that I had easy access to. My first feature was a big studio production with DreamWorks, and while I have done smaller films since, I wanted to do something on a micro-budget and retain complete creative control. I wrote it with that in mind. 

I perceived Swallowed as a connection to my first short, Bugcrush. The idea is that if these hallucinogenic bugs still existed, they would obviously be monetised and sold on the black market. Then I just took that concept to the extreme. A lot of people have asked me to extend Bugcrush into a feature, but I always refrained. Bugcrush is complete and special as it is. At the heart of making Swallowed was this question: How can I tell this weird, sort-of-queer love story and put these two characters in the most fucked-up, horrific reality? Where one ends up fisting the other at gunpoint in a bid to pull out these bugs from their insides. How can I make things the most horrific for them, but also bring them closer to each other?

Bugcrush is such an impressive debut. It’s so concise and harrowing.

You know, Bugcrush cost twice as much as Swallowed. And the crew on Bugcrush was probably four to five times the size. I made Bugcrush while I was doing fashion photography, so I had access to things like an art department, makeup, wardrobe. On Swallowed, there was just a crew of five.

You could say Swallowed does have the feel of a debut, even though it’s very polished. 

It would totally have been my first film out of film school. But the reality is that I came to it with a fair amount of experience. I don’t think it would have been a good film if it had been my first—I wouldn’t have known what I was doing. A month before the proposed shoot date, financing fell through, and 75% of the budget was cut. We ended up doing it for $50,000. I decided to push through because I felt I had the experience needed to figure it out rather than just give up.

Was it a challenge to cast the two leads in roles that required them to be so vulnerable and in all sorts of compromising positions?

José (Colón), who plays Dom, had modelled for me for my queer horror project All The Dead Boys. I wrote the part of Dom with him in mind. It was his debut; he was super excited. He didn’t have any issue with the nudity or with things coming out of his body or anything.  With the Benjamin character, he’s completely naked in the last 40 pages of the script, so anyone going for the part knew the deal. Cooper (Koch) was down for it from the get-go. But the reality of filming—for an actor to be naked in the woods for that long—made us change our minds and have him in his underwear for some of it. 

© Momentum Pictures

The film takes place on Ben’s last night in Maine before he takes off to LA to become a porn star, and there’s a certain naivety to the character as he dreams of making it big. Why did you frame the story around that moment?

He is naïve, but I had written in the script that he was actively pursuing that career. He had agency. He was the one approaching studios, sending images and videos to producers. It’s part of the film’s tragic element. Things do turn out for him, but at a price and a great loss. You can see in the end credits—with the clips where he’s being interviewed as a porn star—that there’s a vacancy to him. I would say that he was most naïve when it came to Dom. He allowed his feelings for Dom to take over and risked his dreams and his life for him.

You cast the ultimate final boy, Mark Patton, as a brilliantly evil and multifaceted villain. I’ve never seen a character like it: this mean, emotional, camp drug-lord. How was it working with him?

I wrote that part with him in mind. I had seen him in Scream, Queen! My Nightmare on Elm Street (2019) and, of course, (A Nightmare on Elm Street 2:) Freddy’s Revenge (1985) way back when. I went to a screening of Scream, Queen! and he was there doing a Q&A—I didn’t meet him then, but he became a fixture in my mind. He inspired the duality of the character: he’s a crazy, backwards drug lord, but with this campness. He’s very much posturing for the other characters. It’s a gay villain that you don’t really see very often, with a lot of past trauma and pain. In a way, I imagine he was like the Benjamin character in his youth.

When I approached him on Instagram, he was initially reserved and thought I wasn’t legit. But then I showed him all the films I made and shared the script. He got on board and was great to work with. He hadn’t acted for a very long time. Apart from Scream, Queen! and doing horror conventions, he was living in Mexico and had completely transitioned out of the industry.

I would say his character is the most obviously queer thing about the film.

He brought a big dollop of the unhinged-ness. His part was fully scripted, but the kinetic, manic energy you see on screen—he brought that. Also, I liked the idea that he was this menacing drug lord pointing the gun at everyone, but then he gets distracted by Benjamin’s beauty. Like that moment where he’s sitting on the couch and ordering Benjamin to take off his clothes. I wanted to show the pervy side to him as well.

© Momentum Pictures

Reviews of Swallowed have brought obvious comparisons to David Cronenberg. I don’t see the film as fully body horror, but I can see that the term can be useful for marketing and making it accessible. 

The term “body horror” becomes an easy way to sell the film and get it in front of people. The idea of losing control of your body is central to the genre and something that does happen in Swallowed. I love Cronenberg and Clive Barker; they were both instrumental to me as a filmmaker. There is an element of body horror here, but it’s more rational and possible. I made up the bugs, but the body packing setup is very real. I wanted to keep things real and dramatic—with the focus more on the psychological than the physical. Having said that, there’s still a seven-minute fisting scene. But even in that scene, I used close-ups to show both the ordeal and the intimacy of that moment, even if it was done at gunpoint. It was only after I shot the film that I realised it wasn’t a straight horror movie. It’s more of a sinister crime thriller. 

Looking at the bug as a queer person, I immediately think of it as an allegory for AIDS or any other STI.

Of course, same here. For me, horror and sexuality are tightly linked. But I don’t think that allegory is as much at play here. With Swallowed, I will say that for all the nudity and intimacy, there is no sex. Even the stuff in the film that feels like it should be sexy is strangely made un-sexy by the context. I was more caught up in Ben and Dom’s story. I never intended them to have sex. And Dom is supposedly straight. I was aiming for an ill-fated love, where they would never have the chance of becoming anything. It was more about unfulfilled emotions and desires. Wish fulfilment in the most fucked-up way possible.

I see correlations with Bugcrush and with all your films—apart from The Ruins—in terms of characters and setting. I noticed a particular focus on young protagonists operating within a working-class environment.

I grew up in rural Maine. I’m not from a wealthy family. Bugcrush was shot in the town where I grew up, and Swallowed was also shot in Maine. The cabin in the film is my parents’ fishing cabin in the middle of nowhere. Aesthetically, I think I’ve always liked the small-town setting and focusing on characters that don’t have their every need met. I find that a richer source for storytelling. I was never drawn to rich kids. And I never fully engage with an urban setting. Even if my film starts off there, the character always leaves for somewhere remote and desolate.

As for the young protagonists, film narratives are built around life’s turning points and your ability or inability to navigate them. When you are young, you’re in the stage of creating an idea of yourself and working out who you will end up as. That’s a particularly interesting time to drop a character into a story.

You swapped small-town America for the Mexican jungle with The Ruins, which you mentioned had major studio backing. How was the experience of making your debut with DreamWorks Pictures?

I never saw it as a real possibility—I genuinely never thought that Steven Spielberg could hire me after having only made one short film. I had been pitching it for nine months, so the idea was solidified in my mind, and I became uncompromising on it. I had this weird sense of confidence, probably because I never thought I had anything to lose. To be fair, I wasn’t 22 at the time; I was older and not as naïve. When I got the job, I had already had the experience of being on a large set from doing big-budget photoshoots, so I knew how to convey my ideas and vision clearly. What I was truly most afraid of, especially in the beginning, was working with actors. I didn’t have a clue how to get the best performance out of them. 

I do specifically remember being taken aback by Laura Ramsey’s performance in The Ruins. That scene when she cuts into her thigh has stuck with me.

Thank you! I would say casting is key. That is a huge part of it. Also, I’m not attached to the words on the page. I never try to force an actor to say a line that doesn’t work. I think with my long history as a photographer, I’ve developed a knack for making people feel comfortable in front of the camera, to take chances and let go of any hang-ups that are holding them back. 

Laura’s performance was incredible. I’m still so impressed by the horror and trauma she conveys, especially in that scene. It’s gut-wrenching. We were shooting day in, day out, and she would always bring it. She was able to tap into those very dark emotions, every single time. It was insane. The intensity was there from the very first audition in this little, sterile office-cubicle-type room.

© Momentum Pictures

Do you think the horror genre frees queer filmmakers to create work that isn’t as bound by positive representation? 

I never felt any pressure to portray queer characters in a solely positive way. I always thought of queerness as messy: dark and light and complicated. Like everyone’s experience of life. I have always been interested in queer characters in films that aren’t necessarily queer. I think there is a freedom in horror—the extremities allow for more nuance. The horror community, for the most part, is accepting and eager for individual voices and stories, especially with films made outside of the studio system. 

Horror has always been my sweet spot, and because I am queer, I can see that there’s an overlap. You could say that horror comes naturally to a queer person. Queer people in everyday life find themselves in difficult situations all the time, just because of their mere existence. That was my own experience growing up, and it feels like a natural avenue to express myself. The way that sex and fear are intertwined is something I could poke and prod at as long as I’m making movies. That shit is not going to resolve itself anytime soon.

As someone who makes horror films, are they still able to scare you? 

Sadly, no. I would say I’m constantly chasing the high of it. That’s why nowadays I’m telling stories that focus on the psychological, because that is still a space that can be effectively frightening. It might not have the same impact as watching a head explode or a ghost creeping up on you, but it can be emotionally devastating to watch traumatic things happen to a character that you care about. That still gets me. That is a place where I can find horror. Both as a viewer and a filmmaker. 

What has been the response to Swallowed since its release to now eventually finding a home on a streaming site (Arrow).

The film has been ticking along and garnering viewers, which I’m very happy about. I would say a lot of it has mainly been spurred on by Cooper becoming super famous, with him being in the Netflix show Monsters (2024) and now the next Luca Guadagnini movie (Artificial). I also get a steady stream of positive messages for Swallowed from horror fans and queer horror fans who praise it for its queerness... It’s been a great experience for me to see the possibility of Swallowed come to fruition: a film made on a microbudget—which I wrote, directed and financed myself—was able to find its audience and maintain a buzz. Your movie not finding its audience is the most frustrating thing for a filmmaker. 

What’s next for you?

I have a few things brewing. Some are bigger projects, which take ages to get off the ground. But I am also thinking of what the next Swallowed-level film will be. I make a point of going to film festivals, specifically to discover new films and new directors. Like the Adams family—they write, direct, edit, and act in the films themselves, as a family. They churn out one to two movies a year. I’m super inspired by their output and the quality of it. I’m figuring out how to work on that same micro level. 

Swallowed is available to stream on Arrow Player

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