Arranging flowers is gay — you heard it here first.
Donna Deitch’s queer love story is set in the ’50s and was filmed in the ’80s, and is still, in 2020, a radical piece of filmmaking.
If you live in the US you can watch the films! Even if you’re not in New York!
When Jenni Olson made these films, she wasn’t thinking about pandemics or quarantines or anything else this year has wrought, and yet there has never been a better time to revisit these five movies.
I wish I could go back and show this film to my baby gay self.
There’s a reason forbidden romances like this spoke to me as a closeted person!
I hope those of you who celebrate had a relatively joyous Rosh Hashanah. And now please join me in the High Holy Day of revisiting a Jewish queer woman classic.
This movie is simultaneously sexy and fucked-up, and its paradoxes mesmerize.
Not only is this film more than its labels because Sandoval sees her character’s humanity — it’s more than its labels because Sandoval is so good in all her roles. This is a patient and artful film, nuanced in its writing and direction, and filled with stellar performances.
In Los Angeles in the early 2000’s (I’m talking 2002, 2003 when J Lo released her Glo perfume) and long before social media could tell you where to go out, Shakedown was a famously hot party for the Black lesbian community. Even after LAPD shut down Shakedown in 2004, we came out and supported Leilah Weinraub to finish a documentary on the scene and carve out a piece of history.
There is charm to be had in watching two phenomenally talented straight actresses play out a lesbian relationship in the kind of wartime melodrama that is so often straight and white.
How the fictionalized film on the horror writer Shirley Jackson bends the line of reality.
Trans film history — like all film histories — is one filled with contradictions. “Disclosure” succeeds by making these contradictions its subject.
It was fascinating to watch a young white woman enter the home of two gay women of color and make a concerted effort to support them, without centering herself or her own personal experience.
Miranda July’s new feature, starring a magnificently weird Evan Rachel Wood, is a careful, long-game-playing meditation on how we can learn to parent ourselves when our own families refuse to do the job.
With two on-screen queer women characters, “Birds of Prey” is an irate, sparkle laden, middle finger in the air to a society that otherwise cowers to the angry whims of men. Who the hell wouldn’t sign up for that?
Untimely deaths, lesbian bed death, a creepy heterosexual polyamorous couple; you won’t find it here. Instead, the film takes the approach of exploring the many different loves we have in our lives.
The most remarkable thing about Gerwig’s film isn’t that it leaves room for queerness – it’s that it leaves room for sadness.
I’m not talking about dyke-y hair and gun-licking as subtext. I’m not talking about just her general way. I’m talking about Kate McKinnon’s character having sex with Margot Robbie’s character and their relationship becoming the most emotionally resonant thing in the entire movie.
“For a work touted as blackness for Black people, Queen & Slim ultimately offers not hope or a way forward, but more images of beautiful Black corpses added to the growing canon of Black death for consumption. And I’m simply not able to keep bearing witness.”