Discovering positive, complex narratives about queer individuals in anime can be a difficult task. To some extent, it requires accepting the limits of representational politics, and enjoying television even when it is problematic.
Jon is addicted to porn, he shows all the signs of an addict. He spends hours browsing pornography websites, is unsatisfied with real life sex, cannot have stable relationships, mastrubates an unhealthy amount any time of the day and night (probably why I didn’t realise his job as a bartender for most of the movie), feels guilty about it because he confesses to the priest at church but continues doing it anyway.
The quarrel is about whether the super-soldiers are just two lads being dudebro pals together or if there is definite homoerotic tension brewing between the two. Unsurprisingly, the majority of the Captain America fandom is straight men who are seemingly incapable of understanding queercodes, and most likely err on the side of being very homophobic.
‘The Song We Sang’ is not a grand or iconic cinematic depiction of Queerness, but it surely is the most beautiful 21-minutes of winessing two, independent, young, Queer women cross each other’s path, eventually growing fonder by the passing night.
Reveling in Balram’s success leaves a bitter taste in the mouth, especially considering he sacrificed people just like himself in order to accumulate wealth and power. Whether intentionally or not, it’s a story that inevitably celebrates using the master’s own tools and tactics to make one’s own version of the master’s house.
Seemingly insignificant interactions in the short film speak volumes about the queer experience, specifically Kamble’s, with each one wittily adding depth to the viewer’s understanding of this overarching theme.
Ghaywan’s film Geeli Pucchi catches you off-guard as you emerge, a little disoriented, from the first two films in this anthology, making it a little difficult to comment on it in isolation, with any amount of objectivity or distance, and it stands out particularly starkly in this otherwise abominable line-up.
Short films are an efficacious medium for filmmakers to present their worldview with a smaller budget and compact storylines. To young filmmakers, they are an opportunity to learn and develop their style. It gives them creative freedom, which is often compromised in commercial films.
Gay relationships were unheard of in children’s animation. And yet, there we were, the scene in front of us, the creators’ own words confirming that the two women were together.
In recent years, queerphobes have dismissed the inclusion of transgender youth in athletics as part of their dismissal of trans rights, and therefore, human rights. Transgender student-athletes are likely to feel motivated to play sports the same way as any other participant, but in many states in the US (as in most parts of the world), they are refused the right to do so or can only do so only after meeting multiple intrusive, medicalized requirements, which further ostracization and exclusion.
The film gracefully traces the life of Parinya Charoenphol – the world's first trans woman Muay Thai (Thai kickboxing) fighter. Popularly nicknamed Nong Toom, Parinya is one of the most controversial figures to emerge from Thailand and from the overall realm of international sports.
New York-based, Argentinian director Lucio Castro’s debut feature Fin De Siglo (End of the Century) is bundled in this fuzzy melancholy, tracing the inherent sadness of all love stories, queer or straight. Working up to and from a casual encounter through Grinder, the film explores a realm ambiguously wedged between the nature of memory and uncharted possibilities of an enduring relationship.
Many fans are especially fond of the fashion moments of the show. Every character has a distinct sense of style, and their appearances are very often overlaid with sequins, glitter, sharp eyeliner, and radiantly shadowed eyes—courtesy of Doniella Davy, the show's lead makeup artist.
The 28-minute film dives deep into the lives of five Queer Sikhs living in India. Produced with a budget of 2,000 USD, the money was raised via a crowdfunding campaign that met its goal within 10 days of its launch, said Sukhdeep Singh, the director of the film.
What is surprising is that male sexuality in the film is represented as frozen and obscene in contrast to the eroticism and intimacy of the two women. It's because the director shows sexuality as a tool of domination. The male gaze is shown as an unwelcome voyeurism and lacks an understanding of women.
Heteronormative culture doesn't want anything to do with characters like Carol or Elio, so society doesn't want them on screen for too long before a pair of tits stick up or a death scene shakes up the audience.
Fast forward to now, I have watched most seasons of Selling Sunset, after which I watched the first season of Housewives of Beverly Hills. Bear with me as I express surprise at the barrage of misogyny that they were. Confused as to why we were documenting and consuming these specific people’s lives on-screen, I looked up the early cast of Housewives of Beverly Hills.
The movies seems to show how emotionally disconnected he has been from the act of sex, that the release is more important to him than how, where or with whom he gets it.
Superhero movies have traditionally catered to a male audience with an emphasis on superbly choreographed action sequences with much flare and destruction. ‘Wonder Woman 1984’ turns that on its head. In one of the first action sequences of the movie, we get an “I hate guns” from Diana, as she gracefully and comically stops a robbery at the mall.
The film unfolds over the city in the darkness of night, which, as we know, is where we can see stray shapes and shadows in the corners. It may be the end of a workday, or it may be that those whom Chippa meets belong to the dregs of an indifferent society, people who are so invisible that they cannot help but allow Chippa such free rein.