Fear Street’s Real Twist? Suzanna Son Was the Best Part and Barely in It

Fear Street’s Real Twist? Suzanna Son Was the Best Part and Barely in It

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Suzanna Son didn’t “rise to fame”—she hijacked it, glitter still on her face, prom queen tiara slightly askew, and a horror script under one arm. You’ve seen her croon NSYNC in Red Rocket, survive a cult in The Idol, and outwit knife-wielders in Fear Street: Prom Queen. She’s not chasing roles; she’s setting booby traps for them. So if you’re here wondering who is Suzanna Son, brace yourself: she’s the short, sharp chaos agent Hollywood didn’t see coming. The Fear Street franchise might’ve tried to kill her off-screen—but she left fingerprints on every frame.

Fear Street Needed a Twist. Suzanna Son Brought a Personality Instead

Hollywood wasn’t calling—until Suzanna Son literally got discovered outside a theater in L.A., turning a random day into her big break in “Red Rocket”.

There’s a long line of Hollywood origin stories that read like extended motivational posters. Suzanna Son’s isn’t one of them. She wasn’t handing out headshots or networking in Starbucks. She was just existing—outside a movie theater on Sunset Boulevard—when Red Rocket director Sean Baker noticed her. No casting call. No agent hustle. Just a stranger with a good eye for unconventional charisma. That’s how the story begins.

Suzanna’s early life in Hamilton, Montana wasn’t part of some performative small-town-to-Tinseltown pipeline. If anything, it was a quieter start: low population, high contrast to where she’d land. There’s little in her Montana upbringing to suggest a fast track to the indie film circuit. But that’s what makes it interesting—no early dance recitals or precocious childhood acting gigs. Just a girl from Montana who accidentally got recruited into a film that would end up on critics’ “best of the year” lists.

Baker didn’t just see potential in Suzanna—he saw Strawberry. That role, designed to balance innocence with manipulation and sweetness with steel, needed someone who could walk that tightrope without tipping into cliché. He found it in the woman standing under the theater marquee. So, if you’re still wondering how Suzanna Son was discovered by Sean Baker, now you know: she wasn’t discovered so much as interrupted.

The Hamilton-to-Hollywood leap wasn’t planned—but neither was staying quiet forever

Hamilton, Montana isn’t exactly a pipeline to the entertainment industry. And yet, it gave Suzanna something most aspiring stars don’t have: zero pretense. She wasn’t packaged for fame. There were no child star bootcamps or showcase performances. Her early life didn’t read like a Hollywood résumé—it read like a person. And that realness came through in every scene of Red Rocket. It’s the kind of presence that can’t be taught, which is precisely why it turned heads.

People tend to forget that Hollywood has always had a strange relationship with “authenticity”—it fetishizes it, then buries it in polish. Suzanna Son, with her blunt sincerity and total lack of calculation, somehow slipped through before they could sand her down. That’s what made her stand out in a film that needed someone who didn’t look like they were acting.

So no, Suzanna Son’s biography doesn’t follow the neat arc of a star-in-the-making. And that’s exactly why it worked.

Before indie fame came knocking, Suzanna was lost in sheet music and Schumann at Cornish College—because yes, she actually reads music.

She went to music school, not acting class—and it shows in the best way

Before her face was popping up in A24 trailers, Suzanna Son was studying music at Cornish College of the Arts. That’s not just a fun trivia line—it fundamentally shaped how she performs. You can hear it in her voice when she sings. You can see it in her timing on screen. There’s a precision there, a control that doesn’t come from improv classes or method acting—it comes from practicing scales until your hands hurt.

Her background isn’t just labeled musician because she once posted a SoundCloud track. It’s legit. She was classically trained. Piano was her first instrument. She didn’t drop out because she was chasing Hollywood—she drifted out, unsure of what she was chasing at all. Turns out, that grey area between artist and performer is exactly where she belongs.

This is what people miss when they try to simplify her path: Suzanna Son isn’t an actress who happens to sing. She’s a musician who acts like one.

That classical music background wasn’t wasted—it’s baked into everything she does

There’s something oddly satisfying about watching someone play a deeply emotional scene and knowing, offscreen, they could probably also analyze Bach’s counterpoint. Suzanna Son’s classical music background isn’t just a footnote—it’s the subtext of her performances. Whether she’s singing in Red Rocket or delivering a deadpan line in The Idol, you can tell she understands rhythm, breath, and pause. That stuff isn’t random—it’s musical.

Even when she’s not playing an instrument onscreen, the influence shows. Timing, restraint, release—those are tools you learn in a conservatory. Most actors learn them late. Suzanna brought them with her.

So yes, she studied Schumann. She also got cast in a film where she sings NSYNC and flirts with a disgraced porn star. That’s the range.

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From Donuts to Critics’ Darlings: Suzanna Son’s Deep-Fried Stardom in ‘Red Rocket’

As Strawberry, Suzanna Son weaponized sweetness, complexity, and just the right dose of chaos to snatch attention—and award nominations.

If Red Rocket had gone with a typical casting choice for its teenage co-lead, we’d be talking about an entirely different film—probably a forgettable one. But casting Suzanna Son as Strawberry was the pivot that made the whole thing unpredictable. She didn’t just support Simon Rex’s derailed adult-film-star character; she played a young woman who was always two steps ahead, using charm as both bait and bluff.

The brilliance wasn’t in some dramatic monologue or self-important scene—it was in the small decisions. The way she delivered a line while licking powdered sugar off her thumb. The way she could seem naive and calculating in the same breath. That tightrope walk made her the kind of Red Rocket actress that critics couldn’t ignore. And no, she hadn’t “paid her dues” in the industry, but that’s exactly why her performance felt fresh. There were no recycled instincts—just an unpredictable rhythm that kept everyone off-balance.

You can throw around the phrase “breakthrough performer” all day, but it only means something when the actor’s performance genuinely recalibrates how the audience watches a scene. Suzanna didn’t just surprise viewers—she redefined the film’s stakes by refusing to play them straight. Her Strawberry isn’t a tragic ingenue or a pixie dream; she’s a grifter with perfect pitch.

Critics didn’t just like her—they weren’t sure what to do with her

The critical reaction to Suzanna Son’s role in Red Rocket was more than just a warm reception. It was the kind of awkward awe reserved for people who show up, break all the rules, and make you feel like the rules were always pointless anyway. She didn’t come in with an actor’s pedigree, and that gave her an edge—nobody could predict her next move because she hadn’t been trained to give what audiences expect.

The Red Rocket critical acclaim that followed was less about industry politics and more about recognition of raw presence. She earned nominations. She got ink in all the right places—from IndieWire to The New York Times. But the praise felt different. It didn’t reek of career-building or awards campaigning. It sounded like critics trying to pin down something weirdly compelling and coming up short.

What worked is that Suzanna Son didn’t play Strawberry like she wanted our approval. She played her like Strawberry didn’t care what we thought. And in a film about transactional relationships, that disinterest was power.

NSYNC meets indie grit: when Suzanna Son sang “Bye Bye Bye” in “Red Rocket”, no one was emotionally prepared—and that was the point.

The scene that should’ve been cringe—and why it wasn’t

There’s a version of the Bye Bye Bye scene in Red Rocket that crashes and burns. In fact, there are about ten versions. Teenage girl sings a boyband classic at a piano while a middle-aged man watches with vaguely creepy fascination? That has disaster written all over it. And yet, somehow Suzanna Son pulled it off—not just pulling it off, but making it the scene people couldn’t stop talking about.

It worked because she sang it like she meant it. Not ironically. Not hyper-stylized. Just with this quiet, untrained confidence that made the lyrics—bubblegum and all—suddenly land like a confession. It wasn’t just “Look, she can sing!” It was: “Wait, is she controlling this whole dynamic?” The moment turned a pop throwback into a psychological chess move.

If you’re wondering whether that was acting or instinct, it doesn’t matter. It’s probably both. And that’s the real trick.

Why her music background made the weirdest scene in the movie unforgettable

There’s a reason Suzanna Son’s musical performance in Red Rocket doesn’t feel like a gimmick: it isn’t one. She didn’t just learn a few chords for the scene—she has a legitimate music background. Years of classical piano training, songwriting, and vocals that sound better live than they have any right to. That musicality bleeds into her acting choices. Timing. Pacing. Silence. It’s all rhythm.

But the real kicker is that she chose Bye Bye Bye herself. Not some studio-picked nostalgia track designed to game millennial attention spans. She picked the song, worked out the stripped-down arrangement, and performed it live during the take. No auto-tune, no do-overs. That’s the kind of creative agency most newcomers don’t get. She didn’t just sing the song—she recontextualized it.

In a film full of moral ambiguity and sleazy motives, the scene works because Suzanna Son turns a late-’90s pop anthem into a moment of complete narrative control. It’s camp, it’s eerie, it’s intimate—and it’s unforgettable.

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Choir Girl Turned Cult Favorite: Suzanna Son’s Twisted Turn in The Idol

In The Idol, Suzanna Son gave us Chloe: a hymn-singing, heroin-rattled cult recruit who somehow stole every scene without trying.

When HBO dropped The Idol, the show came with more baggage than a red-eye flight: the press drama, the behind-the-scenes power struggle, the whole “is this exploitative or just messy?” discourse. But buried in all that noise was Suzanna Son as Chloe—a barely-functioning ex-addict who delivers hymnals in a whisper and stares at people like she can see through their clothes and their soul.

What was striking about Suzanna Son’s performance as Chloe wasn’t just that she out-acted actors with ten times the screentime. It was that she didn’t act like she was acting. Her delivery was offbeat, her presence unsettling, and her stillness louder than everyone else’s screaming. She made “blank and damaged” look deliberate, not lazy.

This wasn’t a showy role. Chloe didn’t have the most lines or the most chaos. She didn’t seduce or monologue. She lingered. And weirdly, that made her impossible to forget. In a cast packed with more famous names than good dialogue, Suzanna did what few could: she made stillness loud.

Chloe was a chaos sponge—and Suzanna turned her into the show’s weird moral compass

The unsettling thing about Chloe was that you couldn’t pin her down. Was she just a trauma dump with a piano? A spaced-out cult ornament? Or was she the only one actually paying attention?

Suzanna Son’s portrayal of Chloe in The Idol leaned into ambiguity in the most uncomfortable way possible. The other characters performed their damage; Chloe just existed in hers. And while The Idol cast danced in and out of credibility (and clothes), Chloe became a kind of accidental anchor—proof that the show’s mess had a pulse, even if its plot didn’t.

There’s a twisted irony to the fact that the most grounded, watchable performance came from someone playing a character who’s been numbed into silence. Chloe was a shell, but Suzanna gave her weight. The moments she sang, stared, or simply was on screen felt like time slowing down—because suddenly, the show had stakes again. Not narrative ones—emotional ones.

Suzanna Son’s work in The Idol was the one thing critics didn’t have to argue about. It was the rare consensus in a sea of chaos.

Her voice wasn’t just background noise—Suzanna helped build The Idol’s eerie soundtrack from the ground up, one haunted note at a time.

This wasn’t stunt-casting. Suzanna Son’s voice became part of the show’s architecture

You’d be forgiven for assuming Chloe’s haunting vocals in The Idol were pre-recorded or dubbed in by a studio vocalist. They weren’t. That was all Suzanna. Her voice—restrained, brittle, intimate—wasn’t just there to sell a mood. It was the mood.

And this wasn’t a one-and-done moment. Suzanna Son’s contributions to The Idol’s soundtrack ran through multiple episodes, sometimes as eerie backing layers, sometimes taking center stage. Her vocals weren’t polished to perfection—they were textured. Vulnerable. Kind of like Chloe, if Chloe had access to a recording booth and zero boundaries.

She wasn’t just cast because she could sing. She was cast because her voice did something strange: it made discomfort sound beautiful. There’s a reason the producers leaned on it. In a show designed to disorient, her vocals grounded the unease.

When Suzanna sings, the show stops pretending and starts feeling

One of the better-kept secrets of The Idol was how involved Suzanna was in the actual creation of the music. She wasn’t just handed sheet music and told to emote—she co-developed it. If you caught yourself humming that haunted track “Family,” you’ve got Suzanna Son’s voice to thank for that spine-prickling effect.

The Weeknd’s presence on the series was obviously central, but ironically, it was Suzanna who gave the show its most human sonic moments. She added breath, warmth, and fragility to a project that often felt frozen in its own aesthetic.

And when it came time for the Weeknd tour tie-ins, guess whose vocals made it onto the setlist? Yep. Suzanna’s. That crossover wasn’t just a favor—it was recognition. She didn’t just act in The Idol—she helped define its sound. One shaky, chilling note at a time.

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Prom Night Body Count: Suzanna Son Brings Brains and Blood to Fear Street

In Fear Street: Prom Queen, Suzanna Son’s horror-obsessed Megan used Final Girl logic to make it out of an ’80s prom soaked in vintage gore.

If there’s one thing slasher films love to do, it’s punish smart characters for being aware they’re in a slasher film. Not this time. Suzanna Son’s role as Megan in Fear Street: Prom Queen was a rare nod to horror literacy done right. Megan’s genre-savviness wasn’t a quirky trait—it was a survival strategy. She clocked the clichés early, raised eyebrows at suspicious classmates, and kept her head down while everyone else lost theirs (literally).

Set in an aggressively ’80s Shadyside High, Megan wasn’t the prom queen. She wasn’t the killer. She wasn’t even the main character. But she was the one audience members kept rooting for, mostly because she acted like she’d seen Scream ten too many times and was determined not to trip over a corpse on her way to math class.

The best part? Suzanna Son didn’t play Megan with self-aware irony. She gave her enough heart to dodge parody. There’s a fine line between “meta” and “smug,” and Son never crossed it. Megan wasn’t rolling her eyes at the genre—she was just trying to survive it, one blood-soaked cliché at a time.

Suzanna Son wasn’t the lead—but she was the most fun to watch

Despite Fear Street: Prom Queen being billed as a standalone horror feature, it didn’t exactly reinvent the chainsaw. The plot? Prom queen rivals. Mysterious killer. Parents with secrets. You’ve seen it before. What you hadn’t seen was Suzanna Son threading genuine likability into a character who, in a lesser film, would’ve been forgettable filler.

Her portrayal of Megan in the Fear Street Prom Queen cast offered the rare horror-movie combo: observational wit without smugness, and vulnerability without being a damsel. She wasn’t leading the charge with a baseball bat or screaming into a mirror. She was watching, calculating, and, when necessary, bolting in the other direction.

You got the sense that if Megan had her own spinoff, it’d be half slasher, half podcast about dead teens and genre tropes. And honestly? Netflix should greenlight that yesterday.

 
 
 
 
 
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Critics threw glitter and shade: some adored the slasher throwback vibes, others wanted to send the film back to detention.

Aesthetically ’80s, narratively flat—unless you were watching the side characters

There’s something frustratingly on-brand about Netflix giving us a visually nostalgic horror film that looks like it was styled in an Urban Outfitters basement. Fear Street: Prom Queen had the big hair, neon lighting, and synth-pop soundtrack of a classic ’80s slasher—but little of the narrative punch. Critics were quick to point out that while it aimed for Scream-level self-awareness, it landed closer to “Halloween: TikTok Edition.”

That didn’t stop the film from becoming a streaming hit, though. Audiences came for the nostalgia. Critics came with knives. The Fear Street Prom Queen review landscape was polarizing: some praised its fast pacing and camp, while others questioned whether anyone in the writers’ room had ever been to high school—or watched a horror film sober.

Still, there was consensus on one point: Suzanna Son made it tolerable. In a film with multiple false leads, cardboard villains, and a murder plot involving overly involved parents, Son’s grounded presence gave viewers something to latch onto.

Suzanna Son delivered horror competence in a film that mostly ran on autopilot

Let’s be blunt—Fear Street Prom Queen wasn’t peak horror. It tried. It bled. But it didn’t quite earn its place in the pantheon of slashers. What did land was Son’s subtle refusal to play Megan as a gimmick. She didn’t scream. She didn’t seduce. She didn’t die in the first act. Instead, she existed in the eye of the storm like someone who figured out the assignment and decided not to flunk out with the rest of the cast.

For fans of Suzanna Son’s horror movies, this wasn’t her flashiest gig, but it was one of her cleverest. She took a supporting role in a disposable slasher and gave it a pulse. The fact that her character survives without needing a redemption arc or a slow-motion faceoff with the killer? That’s progress. Megan didn’t save the movie—but she saved us from turning it off.

It’s not that Fear Street Prom Queen’s critical reception was unfair. The film earned the shrugs. But Suzanna Son? She earned the rewatch.

Married, Queer, and Unbothered: Suzanna Son Off the Clock

Suzanna made it Instagram-official in 2023 when she married her partner and talent manager, Ana Bedayo—because why not multitask?

In an industry addicted to spectacle and strategic coupling, Suzanna Son’s marriage to Ana Bedayo was refreshingly… not that. There were no magazine exclusives, no red carpet proposals, no branded hashtags. Instead, the announcement slipped onto social media with the same casual elegance that defines most of Suzanna’s offscreen presence: concise, real, and utterly uninterested in your approval.

The Suzanna Son and Ana Bedayo wedding wasn’t a campaign—it was an update. But it carried weight. Because while queer visibility in Hollywood is improving, it’s still wrapped in nervous PR gloss. Son didn’t ask for applause—she just posted the photos, smiled next to her new wife-slash-manager, and went back to whatever she was doing before the algorithm caught up.

Yes, they work together. No, it doesn’t seem weird. If anything, it’s kind of perfect. One of them handles the contracts, the other handles the cult roles and surprise piano solos. Between them, they’ve rewritten the template for the actor/manager dynamic. Less Svengali, more domestic scheduling partner.

Being queer in Hollywood isn’t rare—but being this comfortable about it still is

Suzanna Son isn’t the first LGBTQ actress in the industry, and thankfully, she’s no longer the only one marrying a woman in public. But what’s rare is how little she’s tried to brand it. In a media landscape that either ignores queer relationships or commodifies them, Suzanna’s approach is disarmingly normal. She isn’t angling for activist status or slapping a rainbow filter on her career. She’s just living it—openly, publicly, and without performative fanfare.

And in an industry where “openly gay” is often code for “tentatively tolerated as long as you don’t make it weird,” that kind of ease matters. It reshapes the expectation. Suzanna Son didn’t come out with a tearful essay or a Rolling Stone cover. She just got married. To a woman. Who manages her career. And they look like they’re actually enjoying themselves. Imagine that.

Whether you frame it as queer visibility or just a woman making her personal life public on her own terms, Suzanna Son being married to Ana Bedayo signals a shift that feels more honest than groundbreaking—and a lot more sustainable.

At 4’11” with flaming red hair and freckles, Suzanna Son doesn’t blend in—and she’s not interested in trying.

Hollywood didn’t design its machinery for people like her—and that’s her edge

Let’s get the basics out of the way: Suzanna Son is 4 feet 11 inches tall. That’s not “petite” by casting call standards—it’s nearly disqualifying in an industry obsessed with towering aesthetics and symmetrical, easily packaged faces. Add to that freckles and hair the color of ignition and you’ve got a visual profile that doesn’t scream “leading lady” in the conventional sense. Which is exactly why she stands out.

She doesn’t fade into a lineup, and she doesn’t contort herself to fit Hollywood’s beige beauty algorithm. Suzanna Son’s red hair and freckles aren’t quirky side notes—they’re a refusal to disappear into the homogenous sea of faux-natural gloss. Casting directors either get it or they don’t. Fortunately, the ones that do are the ones making the more interesting films anyway.

There’s something defiant about refusing to neutralize yourself in an industry that tells you to round off every edge. And Son’s not just keeping the edges—she’s pointing them right at the camera.

Style is where she plays—because fitting in was never the plan

What makes Suzanna Son’s style genuinely compelling is that it feels completely immune to trend-chasing. You won’t catch her in the influencer uniform or curated minimalist aesthetic. She’s not trying to dress like an actress who’s “on the rise.” She dresses like someone who thinks clothes are fun, makeup is flexible, and looking hot doesn’t require beige latex and contour fatigue.

Her offscreen vibe is a kind of aesthetic unpredictability—part thrift-store punk, part small-town drama teacher, part glam-daydream. It’s rarely polished, always deliberate, and somehow more charismatic than a stylist-approved runway look.

And here’s the kicker: none of it feels calculated. Suzanna Son’s physical characteristics—her size, her coloring, her whole anti-bland presence—aren’t obstacles. They’re part of the package. She’s not bending to the machine. She’s making the machine glitch just enough to let someone like her walk through.

When the Credits Roll, She’s at the Piano: Suzanna Son’s Side Hustle Has Range

Suzanna Son writes, composes, and sings her own music—because playing one tortured character at a time isn’t nearly exhausting enough.

There’s a quiet kind of chaos in discovering that Suzanna Son’s music isn’t some actor side-project masquerading as “intimate bedroom pop.” She’s not pushing moody singles through a ghostwriter or jumping on synthwave trends for the algorithm. She’s composing, writing, and performing her own material—some of which landed in her acting work, and some of which lives on streaming platforms like Spotify with zero fanfare and even less label polish.

Her original tracks feel like eavesdropping on someone thinking out loud with a piano—awkward, spare, a little damaged, and strangely precise. She’s not trying to sell a sound. She’s documenting a mood. And it’s a mood that doesn’t care if you like it.

Suzanna Son’s songs aren’t built for radio rotation or TikTok virality. They’re too quiet for that. Too weirdly honest. There’s a rawness to her vocals that refuses to be smoothed out—part intentional, part emotional spillover. It’s not always pretty, but it’s compelling. If you want proof that she’s more than an actress dabbling in melody, look at how she integrates her own songs into her characters’ lives on screen. She knows when music should fill the room—and when it should crawl out from the corner and unnerve everyone.

Her original releases aren’t chasing chart spots—they’re building a personal universe

The phrase “Suzanna Son’s original music releases” might sound like something you’d scroll past in a Spotify bio, but these tracks offer more character depth than most network dramas. They’re scratchy audio diaries disguised as songs, and they hint at a performer who processes the world through dissonant chords and minor keys.

If her acting work is about channeling characters, her music is about dismantling them. You won’t find polished ballads with perfect hooks—what you’ll find instead is a textured mix of lo-fi recording, layered emotion, and lyrics that occasionally veer into confession and self-mockery. It’s art-school folk with attitude, and it doesn’t care if you think it’s finished.

Her creative process feels less like a brand and more like a compulsion. Something she does because she has to—not because anyone’s watching.

Turns out, Suzanna isn’t just a streaming star—she’s also taught piano, proving her talents stretch way beyond the film set.

She went from recitals to rage ballads—and yes, she can still teach you scales

You’d be forgiven for assuming Suzanna Son’s musical background was cobbled together for movie roles. It wasn’t. Long before the indie film world came knocking, she was studying classical piano and performing in student recitals. The training shows—not just in her playing, but in the way she understands timing, silence, and emotional dynamics. It’s baked into how she acts. It’s absolutely baked into how she writes music.

What most fans don’t realize is that Suzanna Son has also worked as a piano teacher. Not just for showbiz friends or influencer side gigs—but actual lessons, actual students, actual metronomes. She didn’t ditch music when she started acting—she layered it in. Her ability to jump between classical technique and emotionally unfiltered performance isn’t just a novelty—it’s a flex.

The point isn’t that she “can also play piano.” The point is that she can break down the emotional anatomy of a chord progression—and explain it to a 12-year-old.

Her piano instruction isn’t about virtuosity—it’s about storytelling

There’s a difference between teaching piano and teaching music. One’s about fingers; the other’s about voice. Suzanna Son’s piano instruction seems to blur that line in a way that reflects her own creative habits: structured but loose, technical but intuitive. She’s not pounding scales into muscle memory—she’s asking students what the notes feel like.

That kind of approach makes sense for someone who builds art out of contradiction. Her characters are often defined by what they don’t say. Her music leans into discomfort. And her teaching style? It seems to favor emotional honesty over precision—which is probably why it works.

She’s not training concert pianists. She’s giving people a way to find rhythm in their own mess. And if that’s not a metaphor for her whole career, nothing is.

Red Rocket wasn’t just a buzz title—it landed Suzanna nominations from Gotham and Spirit awards, and a seat at the big kids’ table.

Suzanna Son’s portrayal of Strawberry in Sean Baker’s 2021 film Red Rocket garnered her nominations for Breakthrough Performer at the Gotham Independent Film Awards and Best Supporting Female at the Independent Spirit Awards. These nominations highlighted her compelling performance and marked her emergence as a noteworthy talent in the film industry.

Next stop: playing with real monsters. Suzanna’s joining Ryan Murphy’s “Monster” series, where she’ll dig into America’s darkest folklore.

In 2025, Suzanna Son is set to appear as a series regular in the third season of Ryan Murphy’s Netflix anthology series Monster, titled Monster: The Original Monster. This season focuses on the infamous serial killer Ed Gein, portrayed by Charlie Hunnam. While details about Son’s specific role remain undisclosed, her involvement in a series known for exploring America’s darkest true crime stories signifies a significant step in her acting career.

SOURCES:

Suzanna Son Shares Her Passion for Horror and New Music, Suzanna Son – IMDb, Suzanna Son – Wikipedia, Suzanna Son – News – IMDb, How Netflix’s Latest ‘Fear Street’ Slasher Film Created a Terrifying Prom Experience for Fans, Suzanna Son – Biography – IMDb, How Did ‘Fear Street: Prom Queen’ End? Find Out the Killer’s Identity and If Lori Survived, Suzanna Son – Age, Family, Bio | Famous Birthdays, Suzanna Son – Actor Filmography، photos، Video
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