As today marks the National Day of Silence–where LGBT citizens, especially students, are urged to remain silent through their daily routine and non-verbally explain that this is to call attention to the suppression of people with different sexual preferences and gender identities–it only makes sense to commemorate with silent film, a medium that also can tell so much with no words.

1. Different from the Others

This German film from 1919 stars Conrad Veidt, whose most famous roles were in The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari and Casablanca. This condensed (and fan-edited) version is mostly due to the banning of the film in 1920, when censorship laws came back into effect, leaving its preservation up to chance. The film depicts a burgeoning romance between a musician and his protege and nicely demonstrates the ways same-sex couples complement one another in ways equal to heterosexuals.

2. A Florida Enchantment

This quite bizarre little film has some unclear stances on gender expression, but it at least addresses them. After Lillian swallows a magical seed–innuendo already setting in–she begins to masculinize and becomes less attracted to her mate Fred and more interested in the women around her. Fred’s experience with the seeds doesn’t go nearly as well, and the troubling presence of Lillian’s maid in blackface makes this a troubling, but intriguing, piece for the time period.

3. 7 Queers of Bad Luck

Our final video shows how silent film is still vital to our film culture. This short commissioned work from 2008 for the 13th Annual Seattle Lesbian Gay Film Festival is a fun diversion in the melodramatic vein of old-school silent shorts.

by Kevin Sparrow

The sad thing about film festivals is that oftentimes it can be hard to find your favorite films after they’re over. To wrap up our look forward to Reeling 2009, we are going to wallow in self-pity and discuss some of the fantastic dramas being presented this year.

The Filipino film Boy splits its focus between the innocence of first love and the eroticism of desire. The Boy in this case is a thoughtful poet who, when he’s not using his allowance to buy exotic fish to fill his room, spends it at the local male dancer club. He meets Aries there, and as things progress toward New Year’s, The Boy decides to blow his load and take Aries home for the night. There are some very heartfelt and specific character interactions mixed with some standard cliches, especially in the portrayal of the transgender members of the club and shallowness in having such an uncomplicated relationship build. Madeleine Nicolas as Mother brings a lot of credence to her role of a scattershot near-divorcee who has a child with a secret and a husband with another family, and she affects some good performances from the younger cast. The movie is beautifully shot and attempts to overcome its flaws in story with symbolic imagery. (Boy screens at the Landmark Cinema Friday, November 6 at 7:15 PM).

Family is writer-director-actor Faith Trimel’s exploration of the many difficulties faced by women of color in coming out, from trying to keep a career in entertainment and athletics to remaining a vital part of one’s family and community. The lowered quality of certain production values actually highlights much of what is potent about the film, the double discrimination felt by black SGL women. Trimel stars as Felicia, a moderately successful actress who tries to keep her girlfriend in the closet–literally–when her traditional Jamaican mother comes to visit. Felicia’s long-suffering lover tells her they’re through, and Felicia is forced to realize she has to come out. But not without her friends. Felicia dares her five best friends to come out with her within 30 days. Melanie wants to get back the daughter she had been raising with another women who walked out on her, Tonya proposes to her white girlfriend only to be dropped in on with a surprise visit by her judgmental sister, Sabrina is a doctor whose strong ties to her faith keep her from even accepting herself, Idrice is a WNBA star who is worried her career outside the court will not take off if she’s out, and Monifa outs herself only to find that she may not be as over men as she thinks. These six women work together and separately to understand themselves, their lives and their relationships, some rebuilding and some breaking down. (Family screens at Columbia College’s Film Row Cinema on Saturday, November 14 at 2 PM).

Finally, Mein Freund Aus Faro (My Friend From Faro) features Melanie, a 22-year-old still figuring out her place in the world, even if she tries to be someone else in it. After hitting Jenny with her car, Melanie offers to take the teen and her friend to a club and is mistaken for a Portuguese boy (she calls herself Miguel) due to her close-cropped hair, small chest and masculine frame. Melanie and Jenny bond at the club, and Melanie begins hitting up the new guy at work, Nuno, to learn more about Portuguese culture. Meanwhile, Melanie’s brother and father are pressuring her about not having a boyfriend, so Melanie pays Nuno to stop by and pretend to be her new boyfriend, Miguel. In a not-so-subtle Shakepearean way, Melanie’s secret lives begin to converge, and when she finds out that Jenny is only 14, things really take a turn for the worse. The film features many grounded performances, particularly from such a young cast, and Melanie’s anguish over not having anything to identify herself as is heartrending. (Mein Freund Aus Faro screens at the Landmark Cinema on Sunday, November 8 at 7:15 PM).

by Kevin Sparrow

The opening night of Reeling 28 will feature the film The Big Gay Musical at Chicago’s Music Box Theatre, which promises to be an outrageous pastiche of musical tropes, camp and heartfelt reverence for one of queerdom’s favorite genre’s. Two other comedy films playing during the festival match the exuberance set forth by this first night.

The Baby Formula is a Canadian mockumentary by director Alison Reid (who also co-stars as the director of the documentary) that posits what would happen if two women decided to make their own biological baby. Lilith and Athena are a happily married Toronto couple who have found a way to have their own kids: genetic testing with stem cells in mice has proven effective in utilizing eggs from one female to create a zygote with an egg from another female. As the first human subject, Athena is excited to become a new mommy, focusing on her own burgeoning belly and needs, leading Lilith to make the decision to be impregnated in the same way without informing her partner. The two reconcile and begin planning for the birth of their daughters, but it’s none too easy with an overly religious mom on Athena’s side, two alcoholic gay fathers on Lilith’s, and a secret to keep about how these babies were conceived. The documentary style creates compellingly natural characters with very distinct personalities and great performances by leads Angela Vint and Megan Fahlenbock and Rosemary Dunsmore as Athena’s mother. The humor is laced in surprising ways, but there are startling moments of poignancy throughout and some tough issues about what it means to accept one’s role as a parent. (The Baby Formula screens at the Landmark Cinema on Friday, November 6 at 9:15 PM).

For fans of early Peter Jackson, you may have found a good ringer in Kevin Hamedani’s ZMD: Zombies of Mass Destruction. Like all good horror, ZMD bills itself as “a political zomedy” and follows a few liberal-leaning protagonists in a small New England town that just happens to fall under attack by zombies. Frida Abbas has returned home after quitting Princeton, her excuse being to help her father run his restaurant, but all she encounters are neighbors mistaking her for every other identity but Iranian, which ends up even worse when a very Fox News-style channel purports that Muslim terrorists are behind the zombie outbreak. Tom has returned with his partner Lance to finally come out to his mother, only to find her already bitten and becoming zombie. They team up with Cheryl Banks, the ultra-liberal teacher who has put in her bid to run for mayor. Unfortunately, zombies alone aren’t their problem; the close-minded townspeople keep blaming and trying to get these “outsiders” to conform to conservative values. The one-liners are endless, the gore fantastic, and Frida’s theme song will stick with you for weeks. The film’s politics are evident throughout, but it slyly puts into context what it means to be a minority in America today. (ZMD screens at Columbia College’s Film Row Cinema on Friday, November 13 at 9 PM).

by Kevin Sparrow

Our regular weekly news briefs are being replaced by a different look at the world around us: we’re anticipating the opening of the 28th Reeling Film Festival here in Chicago this Thursday, November 5 with a preview of some of the films that will be playing on screens throughout Chicago, from The Music Box to the Landmark to hosts Chicago Filmmakers. Cul de sac’s three-day pre-play begins with a nod to a handful of documentaries that will be screening this year.

City of Borders inundates us in the lives of Palestinian, Israeli and Palestinian-Israeli LGBTs and their struggles with acceptance, especially in proximity to the holy land of Jerusalem. Those taking part in the documentary have found their own having in Shushan, an LGBT bar owned and operated by the first openly gay Israeli council member Sa’ar Netanel. The engaging ensemble story features Palestinian Samira and Israeli Ravit, a lesbian couple who struggle not only with typical problems such as deciding to have children and how working together affects their relationship, but with the present feeling they are sleeping with the enemy; flamboyant Boody is a sometimes drag queen whose mother wants to marry him off to his cousin from America and who is constantly receiving death threats; and Adam and Amit are working to live in the settlement in which Adam grew up and rebuild after a hate crime in which Adam was stabbed during a Pride ceremony. The unquestioning acceptance shown between members of the Palestinian and Israeli LGBT community highlights the doubly compounded hatred they receive from the outside world as identifying as both queer and culturally other. (City of Borders screens at the Landmark Cinema on Tuesday, November 10 at 9 PM).

Two short documentaries focus on the strides made by the LGBT community in the U.S. Out in the Silence is filmmaker Joe Wilson’s response to growing up silently queer in small-town Pennsylvania. After running the announcement of his marriage to another man in his hometown paper and receiving an expected backlash, Wilson is sent a letter by a distraught mother whose son came out and is facing violence and discrimination at school. Wilson takes his camera to Oil Town, PA and connects with 16-year-old C.J., trying to provide him guidance about being out and revisiting his own fears from when he was a teenager. Wilson also interviews Rox and her partner Linda who are battling against zealous Focus on the Family radio host Diane to keep their business restoring an old theater afloat. Wilson captures a good deal of the socioeconomic factors that can lead to a community rejecting LGBT members or denying their existence outright. (Out in the Silence screens at Chicago Filmmakers on Friday, November 13 at 7 PM).

Conversely, Switch: A Community in Transition, focuses much of its attention on the smaller community of family, both blood and chosen. Filmmaker Brooks Nelson’s transition from female-identifying to more masculine is the topic of conversation among his friends and his partner Jeannie’s family, and for good reason: Brooks has asked them to talk about it for the camera. Although it mostly focuses on dialogue and can be a little too intimate to connect to at times, this film is a great conversation starter on why we hold gender identity so close to us and having trouble identifying people gender-neutrally. Even Brooks and Jeannie’s friends, who are predominately butch lesbians, have some discomfort with Brooks’ transition, and a great dialogue about privilege unfolds over the shift in perception of Brooks as a white woman to Brooks as a white man and Brooks’ friend who transitioned from black woman to black man. The film does a great deal to show that people going through transition should not be characterized as “changing;” the perspectives of the people around them should be. (Switch screens at Chicago Filmmakers on Saturday, November 14).

Finally, Fig Trees uses mixed modes to tell the tale of AIDS activists Zackie Achmat of South Africa and Tim McCaskell of Canada. A blend of opera, parody, palindromes and live footage–not always successfully combined but often enthralling–showcases the symbolism of HIV both as a commodity and a commonality between people. You’ll probably never see a better Gertrude Stein impression, and the refreshing perspective that AIDS is something one learns to live beyond rather than learns to accept as a death sentence is especially resonant. (Fig Trees screens at the Landmark Cinema on Wednesday, November 11 at 9 PM).

by Kevin Sparrow

In 1981, few films exploring queer themes had broken through to the mainstream. The exploitation flicks produced by Andy Warhol in the ‘70s were the purview of the high-art crowd, and directors like William Friedkin who were willing to tackle queer subject matter were alternately pioneering (The Boys in the Band) and frustratingly moralistic (Cruising). Amidst a burgeoning underground queer film scene, Chicago’s Lesbian and Gay International Film Festival began at Chicago Filmmakers, playing to a small but devoted crowd that has seen tremendous growth over the last 27 years.

To that end, Chicago Filmmakers’ Executive Director Brenda Webb sees Reeling as “the marriage of culture and community. We see this as an opportunity to reach out to new audiences that may not be on our radar.” Reeling reaches out to communities across Chicagoland with programming aimed at diverse viewers. A co-presenter program that works with local community groups, such as Asians and Friends, meshes with sponsorship organizations, like the Cultural Services of the French Embassy, to foster cultural diversity at all levels. Representations of Black, Latino and Asian lifestyles are a refreshing focus at Reeling. “You can see how significant that representation is for gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender people of color who are not represented well in mainstream media,” says Webb.

While filmmakers from across the globe commit their personal stories to the festival to create a compelling tableau, this year’s theme is “All American Queer.” Traditionally, Reeling is held on the first Thursday of November, which means it has been preceded by many elections in its history. Following the election results of November 4th, many at the festival have responded that they “feel proud to be Americans.” This year’s festival features more American-made films than previous years, including a feature documentary from Chicago, Just as We Are, and two native short films—Dolls and Trophy—playing in the shorts programs. Submissions for a music video category were included this year for the first time, and the festival is also featuring the music program “Rock Reeling” in order to “try to reach out to new audiences and recognize that queer music is a burgeoning field,” according to Webb.

Starting at its roots as a venue for media-hungry queer audiences and building to a weeklong event that inspires numerous communities, Reeling shows no signs of slowing. Its history proves that this boutique festival has something to offer everyone.

The 27th Annual Reeling Film Festival is currently ongoing until Sunday, November 16th, with the closing night presentation of documentary Eleven Minutes. Tickets can be purchased online at www.ReelingFilmFestival.org.

Twenty films depicting inclusive LGBT portrayals
by A.A. Dowd, Gisella Faggi, Jon Mathias and Kevin Sparrow

4) Bad Education (Spain, 2004) – Pedro Almodovar’s 2004 film, Bad Education, tells the story of Enrique (Fele Martinez), a director searching for a subject for his new film. One day, he is visited by a drag queen called Zahara (played exquisitely by Gael Garcia Bernal) who pitches an idea to him. That story takes place during their schooldays under the fascist regime of General Franco and involves a young boy being sexually abused by a local priest. It turns out that Zahara was actually that boy, named Ignacio, and was also Enrique’s first love. From there, the labyrinthine narrative only continues to get more complicated. This homosexual film noir illustrates the obsession and desire that can stem from years of repression, but, more importantly, it centers upon the question of identity. Bernal portrays the myriad facades of Ignacio (from drag queen to aspiring actor and so forth) with such effortlessness to suggest that even oneself cannot truly understand their identity or sexuality. In fact, this idea of a damaged identity is also present in the flashbacks of the young boys. Obviously, expressing homosexual tendencies was considered taboo under the fascist government. However, these queer boys possess more purity than the corrupt authorities around them, symbolized by the pedophiliac priest. Never once does Almodovar sensationalize these subjects for the sake of controversy. Instead, he opts to treat all of his characters, although flawed, with pity and sympathy, as humans. – G.F.

3) Mysterious Skin (U.S., 2005) – Even before the aptly titled The Doom Generation, Gregg Araki’s films have held a palpable sense of dread. Many of his films—outside of having LGBT themes–have a nihilistic bent. However, a change is felt in his most beautifully rendered film, Mysterious Skin; there’s a warmth and sensitivity under all the gloom. A chronicle of the lives of two young men (portrayed with nuance and grace by Joseph Gordon-Levitt and Brady Corbett) whose divergent paths are brought closer together by a painful shared experience, Mysterious Skin leads the audience down an increasingly terrifying and disturbing path, but the humanity of the film—especially its final scenes—deflect a lot of the fear and usher in compassion. The subtext of shared experience permeates the film and resonates well with queer audiences. Many gay people have understood feelings they had when they were young only after talking to someone who shared those same feelings. Araki’s film understands this and utilizes it to create a powerful piece of art. – K.S.

2) Fire (India/Canada, 1997) – Deepa Mehta’s film, the first of her trilogy about patriarchal Indian society, tells the story of Sita and Radha, two women who are mutually unhappy with their married lives. After being neglected by their husbands, the two find solace in each other. Eventually, their relationship turns from mere friendship into something much more. When houseboy Mundu uncovers the secret relationship, he divulges it to the traditionally minded family, which causes some volatile eruptions. The first Indian film about lesbianism presents a love that is sincere and unadulterated, despite the fact that the characters acknowledge that there is not even a term for “lesbian” in their native language. This feminist film also deals with issues of female emancipation, critiquing Indian society for preventing women from experiencing freedoms that might challenge traditional social order and the conventional family unit. Interestingly enough, all characters appear trapped in their lives, by custom and/or religion, but only the two central characters find a way to escape, by coming to terms with their true identity. – G.F.

1) Shortbus (U.S., 2006) – A hotbed of controversy has always followed films that dare to be narratives displaying “real sex.” What differentiates them from pornography, if anything? Our second film from artist John Cameron Mitchell best illustrates that the difference is emotional realism versus titillation. With respect to a verisimilitude to life, Mitchell’s film envelops viewers in a slightly fantastical view of New York City in the early part of the 21st Century. Falling during the true-to-life blackout that occurred in 2003, Shortbus follows an ensemble of characters who are “a little slow” sexually. Sex is more than a source of pleasure: it contains frustration, insecurity, pain, and eventually, interconnectedness. From a gay couple known as The Jamies (Paul Dawson and PJ DeBoy) who need a third party to reconnect, to a dominatrix (Lindsay Beamish) who can find no emotional connection with anyone else, to a sex therapist (Sook-Yin Lee) who has yet to experience her first orgasm, the sex depicted is as much of a character trait and plot device as the dialogue and setting (a sex club with a slew of colorful characters). The characters go through myriad pairings, whether gay, straight, bi, or transgender in nature, transgressing the comfortable boundaries we see them at in the beginning of the film. An in-depth examination of social mores of sexual expression in America, becomes a stronger political statement as the film progresses. More than anything, Shortbus reveals that when we can all celebrate our sexuality, social boundaries regarding sexual preference become irrelevant. – K.S.

Twenty films depicting inclusive LGBT portrayals
by A.A. Dowd, Gisella Faggi, Jon Mathias and Kevin Sparrow

The Hours (U.S., U.K., 2002) – It’s not just about the nose. The role of Virginia Wolff, for which Nicole Kidman deservedly won an Oscar, is an integral component to the triptych plot of The Hours. Three women living in different eras are chronicled in the midst of momentous occasions for each of them. Their (seemingly) sole connection is Wolff’s novel Mrs. Dalloway, a psychological study about sacrificing one’s own happiness to maintain the happiness of others. The characters created by Kidman, Julianne Moore and Meryl Streep are adept at this practice and the overlapping of their stories clarifies this point without becoming overbearing. This theme resonates for an LGBT community who, throughout its history, has had to sacrifice openness and self-expression to ensure a status quo for others, whether their parents, spouses or even for job security. The fact that all the women are also lesbians in various stages of being out as a major Oscar contender is another positive outcome of this film from Stephen Daldry. Even though there are battles still to be fought—the more dangerous ones internal—the hope this film provides shows that sexual expression has come a long way. – K.S.

7) Kinsey (U.S., 2004) – Controversial sex researcher, and sexually experimental bisexual, Alfred Kinsey assisted in ushering in the 1960s sexual revolution, particularly with the publication of his studies regarding human sexual behavior, the first of which was published in 1947. Conducting frank interviews with thousands of people from various demographics, he set out to learn about masturbation, orgasms, oral sex, homosexuality, bisexuality, and myriad other taboo practices of the era. Naturally, his findings were contentious at the time, and his discoveries and conclusions continue to stir strident debate. The film, like Kinsey himself, is interested in exploring the habits of human beings, and what we do, rather than why. Additionally, the open-minded professor wasn’t shy in sampling every practice that he learned about, urging his students and peers to do the same and discount their negative thoughts regarding sexuality. In fact, one of Kinsey’s most intimate relationships was with his assistant, Clyde Martin, who became not only his lover, but also the lover of the doctor’s wife, Clara. As a result, this incautious film is certainly a testament to the transformative power of ideas, which is still relevant in contemporary (and often-prudish) American society. – G.F.

6) Ma Vie en Rose (Belgium, France, U.K., 1997) – Seven-year-old Ludovic is convinced that he will one day grow up to be a girl. In fact, he even devises a scientific theory that God lost his extra X chromosome and was forced to replace it with a Y, making him a “girlboy.” In this gentle Belgian film, director Alain Berliner examines transgender issues through the eyes of a child. The resilient Ludo is at the mercy of every adult to criticize his behavior: teachers, neighbors, and eventually, his parents, who believe that their son is simply confused. At first, the boy’s cross-dressing tendencies are regarded as antics, but when Ludo develops a not-so-subtle crush on his father’s boss’s son and, consequently, becomes a social pariah, his family grows frustrated. The film delicately balances ingenuous childhood fantasies with the often-volatile topic of sexual identity. As a prepubescent cross-dresser, Ludo is hardly theatrical. Rather, the innocence of his obsession shows no sexual awareness, so this is not about whether the boy will grow up to be gay or not. Instead, Ma Vie en Rose focuses on the importance of individuality and tolerance. – G.F.

5) Happy Together (Hong Kong, 1997) – Wong Kar Wai’s masterpiece, Happy Together, details the relationship between Lai and Ho, a pair of expatriate lovers in Buenos Aires. Soon, the couple becomes stranded in the foreign country without much money. The (more) sensible Lai takes a mind-numbing job as a doorman at a tango club, while the reckless Ho makes a little income as something of a hustler. Their on-again-off-again relationship is torturous and often volatile, laced with a self-destructive passion. However, even when the relationship seems to have ended, Lai takes care of an incapacitated Ho, having been beaten during a one-night stand with a stranger. Homosexuals and heterosexuals alike can appreciate this cynical, despondent look at relationships. Both characters spend most of the film alienated from one another, in a land that they are unfamiliar with. Lai and Ho stay together through an arduous relationship only as a means of escaping loneliness. – G.F.

Twenty films depicting inclusive LGBT portrayals
by A.A. Dowd, Gisella Faggi, Jon Mathias and Kevin Sparrow

12) Y Tu Mamá También (Mexico, 2001) – Long before their platonic bromance blossoms into a sexual romance, forbidden desire joyfully consummated in one alcohol-fueled night of reckless passion, it’s painfully clear that Julio (Gael Garcia Bernal) and Tenoch (Diego Luna) just want to fuck each other. When they’re not having buck-naked towel fights and poolside jerk sessions, these textbook closet cases are screwing each other’s girlfriends and competing for the same way-out-of-their-league señoritas. Raunchy sex farces don’t come much funnier and more honest than this, but Y Tu Mamá También, Alfonso Cuarón’s boisterous and bittersweet ode to accidental self-discovery, aspires to a hell of a lot more than a bi-curious American Pie for the art house set. Attempting, rather transparently, to seduce an older woman, the mysterious Luisa (Maribel Verdú), our idiot-horndog heroes chart a random course to an imaginary utopia, some made-up beach getaway on the Mexican coast. Somehow, this ill-conceived road-trip does get them laid, but that’s merely the prelude to a pricklier and more profound journey: with Maria as their no-bullshit guide, Julio and Tenoch stumble upon a whole world—a history, a culture, and a community—outside of the selfish and insular one they’ve built for themselves. And then they stumble, suddenly and ecstatically, into each other. By Cuarón’s radical estimation, sexual awakening goes hand-in-hand with the emergence of a social conscience—only when we truly know ourselves can we finally feel the pulse of the planet and its people. Of course, retreat is always an option and enlightenment can be fleeting. Tragic, to choose the darkness we know over the blinding, terrifying light we need. – A.D.

11) High Art (U.S., 1998) – A gorgeously realized piece of work from writer-director Lisa Cholodenko, High Art tells the story of Syd (Radha Mitchell, amazing in her first leading role), a working stiff at a photography magazine. Her happenstance encounter with hermit photographer neighbor Lucy Berliner (Ally Sheedy) leads to a tentative and perceptibly sycophantic friendship. But as the women spend more time together, a genuine passion develops. Complications arise as Syd has her sexual awakening as things become more serious with her live-in boyfriend, James (Gabriel Mann). Syd becomes more than a source of work for Lucy; she becomes her art. The photography captured throughout the film is worth looking up alone, and many still frames throughout could be their own pieces. Merit is due not only to the nuanced turns by all the actors, including Patricia Clarkson as Lucy’s drug-addled, German actress girlfriend, but to a refreshingly well-rounded crew with females in most of the key positions, a rarity in a notoriously andro-centric industry. The work shown here pinpoints what makes the medium of film so vital, and transcends its (predictably) tragic ending. – K.S.

10) Boys Don’t Cry (U.S., 1999) – It’s the movie that made an actress, a star, and an Oscar winner out of that scrawny, spunky girl from “90210″ and The Next Karate Kid. But take Hillary Swank and her revelatory tour de force out of the equation, and what’s to be made, in this new era of palatable American indies, of Boys Don’t Cry? Nearly a decade after the awards frenzy and year’s-best hoopla, Kimberly Pierce’s harrowing howl of social outrage is frequently regarded as something of an Important Bummer—in other words, as the type of work you swallow like bad medicine, enduring its horrors out of some sense of noble, civic responsibility and then vowing to never suffer through them again. It’s an understandable reaction. Casting an unflinching eye on the real-life tragedy of Teena Brandon, a young Nebraskan transgender raped and murdered by his friends after they discover his female parts, Boys Don’t Cry is grueling in its stark depiction of hate-crime atrocity. What people often forget is everything leading up to that heart-and-stomach-wrenching finale. Released just one year after the murder of Matthew Shepherd, Pierce’s debut offers both rage and consolation, attempting, in one fell swoop, to both harshly expose and empathetically heal the festering wounds of an ideologically divided nation. And, in the swagger and soul and joy—yes, joy—of Swank’s live-wire performance, the film mourns Teena’s death by celebrating her life, selling her nervy gender deception as an essential journey of self-discovery. As such, the defining moment of Boys Don’t Cry is not its devastating climax, but the scene in which a smirking Swank, her hair-cropped short and her masculine features accentuated, whispers “You’re an asshole” at her own reflection. Teena Brandon has become Brandon Teena. And finally, if only for a brief while, she soars. – A.D.

9) Tropical Malady (Thailand, 2005) – A male soldier openly woos a village boy, and nobody bats an eye or whispers a word—is rural Thailand really this refreshingly progressive, or are we in the realm of fantasy from frame one? Torn between reality and myth, naturalism and allegoric poeticism, Apichatpong Weerasethakul’s strange and wondrous Tropical Malady treats its central gay romance with a matter-of-factness that borders on abstraction: free of societal oppression and disapproval, Keng (Banlop Lomnoi) and Tong (Sakda Kaewbuadee) bond on an almost spiritual level, their slowly blossoming love affair born of mysterious, unspoken natural forces. Schizophrenically split right down the middle, Weerasethakul’s film begins simply enough, charting the men’s tentative courtship, their gentle flirtation, their earnest romantic gestures and sweet declarations of affection. Then, after a daytrip to a cavernous mine—the symbolism is clear—Tropical Malady pulls a 180, veering off into the jungle for a bit of beguiling folklore, the wordless tale of a soldier hunting a tiger through the deep, tangled foliage. Contrary to what many have written, the second half is not a metaphoric reflection of the first, but a continuation: hesitant attraction gives way to a full-blown sexual pursuit, with the erotic escalation of Keng and Tong’s relationship suggested through image and motion, mysterious desire painted grand on a mythic canvas. Reconciling the oppositional halves of Weerasethakul’s confounding mood piece is no simple task. Thankfully, the through line connecting them—two souls connecting in an idyllic land where their love is not taboo—couldn’t be clearer. – A.D.

Twenty films depicting inclusive LGBT portrayals
by A.A. Dowd, Gisella Faggi, Jon Mathias and Kevin Sparrow

16) Transamerica (U.S., 2005) – Transamerica is a triumph of a tale detailing the experience of a pre-op transgender man named Stanley (played by a fantastic Felicity Huffman) as he attempts to complete his transition into womanhood. We watch Bree—Stanley’s future self—manicure himself into the woman he wants to be. Unfortunately, things don’t go according to plan.
A week before his surgery, Stanley gets a phone call out of the blue about his estranged teenage son, Toby, who just happens to be in jail. Stanley, as Bree the Christian Missionary, decides to fly from L.A. to New York to bail Toby out. All the while, Bree is slowly breaking down, and her therapist tells her she has to deal with this part of her life, however unexpected.
The story continues as a road trip across the country, filled with heartbreaking and heartwarming moments. A dynamic cast genuinely portrays society’s ideas about gender, family and the profound uncertainty and surprise of life. – J.M.

15) Frida (U.S., Canada, Mexico, 2002) – Frida tells of the life and times of Frida Kahlo (Salma Hayek), the famed Mexican Surrealist. The story begins in her youth, and we see Frida as a free-spirited, passionate and individualistic student. Her life is ordinary until one fateful day when the trolley she is riding crashes, and she is impaled on a hand rail, which causes her various problems for the rest of her life.
Frida comes to meet the man she will marry, Diego Rivera (Alfred Molina), who encourages her talent and inspires her, although he has trouble staying faithful to her, which leads to her drifting away from him. At one point, we see Frida engage in a sex with another woman during her stay in New York while her husband paints a controversial mural.
Director Julie Taymor manages to incorporate several of Kahlo’s paintings into the film with uncanny and precise skill. The story moves along with beautiful and memorable scenes, the trolley accident being one of the most strikingly composed. Following the accident is a unique, macabre stop-motion surrealist transition to Frida’s hospital bed, crafted by the brilliant Brothers Quay. The legendary Mexican singer Chavela Vargas (who is rumored to have had a relationship with Frida) even makes a fever dream appearance. – J.M.

14) Mulholland Dr. (U.S., 2001) – Like all of David Lynch’s perverse, labyrinthine fantasias, Mulholland Dr. defies classification. Is it a SoCal noir, a murder mystery shrouded in the grime and glow of Los Angeles? Is it a searing Hollywood satire, a guttural cry from the seedy underbelly of Tinseltown? Is it a puzzle-box waiting to be cracked and decoded, or a gloriously irrational mind-fuck meant simply to be experienced? The beauty and the burden of Lynch’s 21st-century head-trip is that it’s all of these things at once and, depending on who you ask, none of them. Yet once you get down to actually peeling back the layers and unraveling the plot strands, to swinging open the various trap doors of this surreal funhouse, you’ll discover that Mulholland Dr. is really, at its very core, something of a rapturous love story. That it chronicles the burgeoning romance between two women is both casually accepted and entirely the point; the film inverts and subverts its studio genre trappings, making glorious queer melodrama out of warped Hollywood nostalgia, Radiant in her joy and ambition, Naomi Watts is Betty, the wide-eyed ingénue, an aspiring starlet at Hollywood’s pearly gates. Laura Harring is Rita, her dark-haired foil, the enigmatic, amnesia-stricken femme fatale of her wildest dreams. Drawn together by uncertain circumstance, the two are plunged into a hall-of-mirrors mystery, yet as Lynch piles on the oddities and grotesqueries, the dreams within dreams, the crime movie subplots, the terrifying monster-in-the-alley tangents, the tension between his sleuthing heroines gradually intensifies, culminating in cinema’s most erotic expression of gay desire. This sex scene alone, about as passionate, frank, and emotionally ravishing as any ever filmed, earns Mulholland Dr. a spot on this list. Fail though you might to untangle Lynch’s impossibly knotted narrative, what truly lingers is the blazing attraction between his love-struck bombshells, yearning as bright as the California sun on Betty’s hopeful visage. – A.D.

13) Before Night Falls (U.S., 2000) – Before Night Falls describes the life of Cuban poet and novelist Reinaldo Arenas (Javier Bardem). Based off of Arenas’ memoir and directed by Julian Schnabel, this film tells the story of Arenas’ entire life, from birth until death—and his struggle for freedom; freedom from his parents, from government oppression and from jail in his native Cuba. The strikingly photographed film weaves a simple and beautiful narrative of pain with delicate humor and music.
Even when he becomes imprisoned for being a homosexual, through all of his persecution and hardship, Arenas still manages to write and smuggle his novels out of the country so they can be published abroad.
Johnny Depp manages to make a memorable dual cameo, first as Bon Bon, a drag queen inmate with a gift for smuggling items out of the jail through her anus, and secondly as a part of the regime which forces Arenas to flee the country.
Schnabel’s vision for this film shines through the bittersweet tone, and exits filled with poignant and emotional moments of beauty and delicacy as well as empathy for Arenas’ turmoil. – J.M.

Twenty films depicting inclusive LGBT portrayals
by A.A. Dowd, Gisella Faggi, Jon Mathias and Kevin Sparrow

In late April 1997, Ellen Degeneres took her eponymous character out of the closet on the hit sitcom, Ellen. Nearly 12 years later, positive and substantial portrayals of gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender people have proliferated across media, encouraging more members of the LGBT community to be open about their sexuality. For the next five weeks, Cul de sac will be counting down the 20 films to be released since 1997 we have identified as having the most depth and inclusivity of all LGBT films examined. Although we subdivided categories between Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender, many of the films contain images of various groups in the LGBT community, and their messages are universally about acceptance.

In the effort to be inclusive, we begin with an honorary mention:

May (U.S., 2002) – The dating scene can be a real nightmare. Just ask May. Poor girl only wants to be loved, but finds the objects of her affection, male and female alike, scarcely worth the sum of their attractive parts. So what’s she to do with all those pretty pieces? In this delightfully unhinged, genre crazy-quilt—think Repulsion, recast as a twisted rom-com satire—Angela Bettis’ titular wallflower bounces between lovers of both sexes, her desperate need for companionship superceding all boundaries of gender or orientation. Writer-director Lucky McKee is shrewd enough to recognize May’s malleable sexuality, her openness to any potential suitor, as a product of her universal need for some form of human connection. Which is not to say he denies his eccentric, lonely-hearted heroine, whose nerd chic good looks and child-like sweetness mask her dangerous instability, a real sexual appetite. (She digs Adam’s hands and admires Polly’s neck, her desire rooted in anatomical wonder as much as biological urge.) In the film’s third act, a funny-scary free fall into total madness, May becomes something of a bi-sexual avenger, waging war on a cruel singles’ scene, on the men and women who shunned and scorned and abused her affections. And it’s in the gonzo climax, the deeply disturbing and strangely moving last scenes, that she finally finds her Mr./Mrs. Right: the sexless, genderless love of her life, a soul mate she (literally) wills into being. Forget Carrie Bradshaw. Here’s the ultimate, modern, fed-up single girl—you can’t find a lover, make one. – A.D.

20) Love Songs (France, 2008) – A musical that strives for normalcy may seem untenable, but this 2007 Cannes nominee from director Christophe Honore creates such natural characters in a simple story that the songs are an integral focus. Naturalism also creates a comfortable atmosphere for the bisexual inhabitants of this tale. Ismael (Louis Garrel) seems satisfied in his relationship with Julie (Ludivine Sagnier) and their shared girlfriend, Alice (Clotilde Hesme), but Julie does not necessarily feel the same way. Following a tragic event, Ismael begins to understand Julie’s fears and fluid sexuality when he tentatively pursues romance with another man, university student Erwann (Gregoire Leprince-Ringuet). The characters’ gender is secondary to the plotting of the movie, which explores the loss of love and the redemption of romance in each of its characters’ lives, generating an environment where the topic of bisexuality is seamlessly blended into the narrative. True love can be found anywhere; the characters just don’t look for it until they have to. – K.S.

19) But I’m a Cheerleader (U.S., 2000) – Festivals ignored it. Critics tore it apart. And audiences? Well, they just stayed away. Released in the summer of 2000, But I’m a Cheerleader, a silly-sweet comedy about a peppy suburban teen (Natasha Lyonne) shipped off to “sexual redirection” camp, was an unqualified belly flop. And while it’s tempting to blame the film’s failure on a homophobic nation not yet ready to poke gentle fun at its own fears and prejudices, this candy-coated satire from writer-director Jamie Babbit (Itty Bitty Titty Committee) is admittedly pretty far from perfect. (Its plastic-and-Crayola aesthetic is as distractingly unpleasant as Juno‘s and the supporting players, particularly the boo-and-hiss-worthy, right wing villains, are outrageous camp caricatures.) What’s saved the movie from both mediocrity and obscurity—it’s gradually amassed a real cult following on video and DVD—is its disarming sincerity, the beating heart beneath the pink polyester. Babbit turns the scared-straight rehab clinic into a house of farce and folly (playing hetero only turns these boys and girls on), but she treats the central romance between Lyonne’s closeted cheerleader and a rebellious, tomboy classmate (Clea DuVall) with a refreshing tenderness and honesty. And by roundly refusing to spoil or shatter its same-sex affair by the end credits, But I’m a Cheerleader stood, at the turn of this new millennium, as something of a first in mainstream American cinema: a gay love story that never stoops to punishing its young lovers, affording them instead the promise of a brighter tomorrow. For all its imperfections, that alone warrants a second life for this broad but winningly hopeful indie comedy. – A.D.

18) C.R.A.Z.Y. (Canada, 2005) -This French-Canadian film by Jean-Marc Vallee explores the dynamics of family in a queer person’s orientation. For young Zach, life is complicated not only by his status as his family’s personal talisman warding off evil, but by his growing realization that he prefers men to women. His childhood and adolescence are mired in a stagnation of his sexual identity as his father’s disapproval leads to his rebellious macho behavior and a long-term sexual relationship with a female neighbor that is emotionally stunted. The lush suburban settings and 70s soundtrack reveal a turning point for a character that many gay men growing up in North America may identify with in the wake of Stonewall. However, the themes of pressure to remain the way your family sees you and becoming the outsider when you realize you can not reverberate even today. – K.S.

17) Hedwig and the Angry Inch (U.S., 2001) – Hedwig is a small-time performer, but you wouldn’t know it by looking at her. In fact, there’s a lot of things you might not know by looking at her. Her performances as a musical cabaret act in a restaurant chain throughout the country coincide with former lover Tommy Gnosis’ gigs at higher profile venues in the same cities. Hedwig rehashes her life story, letting everyone in on how her songs were stolen, her heart was broken, and how she developed her “angry inch.” In the canon of films labeled “Audacious,” Hedwig is at its heart a comic satire of the glamour of showbiz and a genuine portrayal of someone whose life is interfered with by society’s conventions. The music is humorous and beautiful, making the subject matter of transgender identity a warm initiation as opposed to playing entirely as a joke. Props to director and star John Cameron Mitchell for pushing himself to provide an intelligently filmed musical-comedy that shines a light on those of us who get pushed to the background. – K.S.