Movies

LGBTQ+ Cinema Club: Twinless (2025)

By /

Quick Info:

  • Title: Twinless
  • Year: 2025
  • Directed by: James Sweeney
  • Starring: Dylan O’Brien, James Sweeney, Aisling Franciosi, and Lauren Graham
  • Where I Watched It: AppleTV Rental

Queer-o-Meter:

🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈 (3 out of 5 Pride Flags)
There’s definite queer-coded energy between the two leads — emotional intimacy, identity swapping, the whole “are they or aren’t they” vibe.

One-Line Summary:

Two men who’ve each lost their twin brothers meet at a grief support group and bond way too intensely — until comfort turns into something darker.

Standout Scene:

Where a Roman dryly acknowledges not being “the brightest tool in the shed,” then being corrected by Dennis that the phrase is “sharpest tool in the shed”.

Favorite Line:

“”Whoever invented the fitted sheet should be flagulated.”
I felt that one deep down.

Plot Summary:

Twinless follows Roman (O’Brien) and Dennis (played by writer-director James Sweeney), two strangers united by the worst kind of loss — each has lost his identical twin. What begins as mutual understanding slowly morphs into obsession, as both men start filling the void left behind by their brothers… and maybe by something else.

The movie tiptoes between dark comedy and psychological thriller. At times, it feels like The Talented Mr. Ripley reimagined for the age of therapy speak — all identity confusion, subtle manipulation, and awkwardly honest humor. You never quite know if you’re watching a friendship, a love story, or something more sinister forming in real time.

Would I Rewatch?

☑️ Absolutely

Review:

Okay, I’m gonna gush for a second: I loved this movie. Dylan O’Brien has been a favorite of mine since his Teen Wolf days — I still think Stiles Stilinski walked so half of today’s TV antiheroes could run — but Twinless is something else entirely. He’s magnetic here: unsettling and tender, funny and frightening all at once. You can actually see him calculating behind his eyes, and it’s wild how much emotion he conveys just by standing still.

James Sweeney (who also wrote Straight Up, one of my favorite under-the-radar queer comedies) directs the hell out of this. His humor is razor-sharp but never cruel, and he uses silence like a weapon — those long, still moments where you start holding your breath without realizing it. The whole thing hums with this unease that never quite explodes, which somehow makes it even more nerve-wracking.

The chemistry between O’Brien and Sweeney is off the charts. It’s not romantic in a straightforward way, but it is intimate — the kind of closeness that feels dangerous, like two people sharing too much oxygen in the same room. You can tell Sweeney knows exactly what he’s doing with that tension.

Visually, it’s sleek and slightly off-kilter. The cinematography mirrors the characters’ emotional imbalance — cool tones, uncomfortable symmetry, mirrors everywhere. And the editing occasionally splices shots of the twins’ memories into current scenes, making you question what’s real. It’s gorgeous but unnerving, and I was completely hooked.

If I have one small nitpick, it’s that the ending keeps things deliberately vague. I respect that choice — it fits the themes of identity and grief — but I wanted just a touch more closure. Still, that’s a minor quibble in an otherwise stunning film.

Final Thoughts:

Twinless* floored me. It’s funny, eerie, deeply emotional, and anchored by one of Dylan O’Brien’s best performances to date. Watching him handle this complex material, I kept thinking: he’s grown into such a fascinating actor. Still boyish, still charming, still exceptionally handsome but now he’s bringing this dark, introspective energy that’s just mesmerizing.

If you liked The Talented Mr. Ripley, Fight Club, or Straight Up, this one belongs on your list.

The Cinema Club Verdict:** ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

5 out of 5 Stars. Dylan O’Brien has never been better — and this might just be my favorite film of 2025 so far.

If you’ve seen Twinless — or have another Dylan O’Brien performance I need to check out — come yell at me on BlueSky.

LGBTQ+ Cinema Club: Twinless (2025) Read Post »

LGBTQ+ Cinema Club – On Swift Horses (2024)

By /

I’ve heard quite a bit about this one and finally got around to checking it out. In my opinion, phenomenal!

Quick Info:

  • Title: On Swift Horses
  • Year: 2024
  • Directed by: Daniel Minahan
  • Starring: Daisy Edgar-Jones, Jacob Elordi, Will Poulter, Diego Calva, and Sasha Calle
  • Where I Watched It: Netflix (curled up on my couch, blinds half-closed because this film demands moody lighting)

Queer-o-Meter:
🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈 (4 out of 5 Pride Flags)
Rated on how gay it feels — characters, themes, vibes, chaotic queer energy. This one? Pretty darn queer. It’s got longing, repression, and that “I might ruin my life for this feeling” energy that queer cinema loves. Plus I loved that Jacob Elordi messed around with men and Daisy Edgar-Jones with a woman!

One-Line Summary:
Two people trapped by circumstance and haunted by desire — a young wife and her enigmatic brother-in-law — risk everything in a postwar fever dream of love, betrayal, and blackjack.

Standout Scene:
There’s a moment in a neon-lit casino where Jacob Elordi’s character, Julius, gazes across the table at a stranger — it’s quiet, smoky, and the tension between them hums louder than the slot machines. No words, just a flicker of understanding, attraction, danger. It’s one of those rare cinematic moments that makes your breath hitch because you know this is the beginning of trouble — the kind that changes lives.

Favorite Line:
I have to choose two favorites for this film:

“The world’s not built for people who can’t keep their hearts quiet.”
(I really love this one!!! It stings.)
and
“We’re all just a hair’s breadth away from losing everything. All the time.”

Would I Rewatch?
☑️ Absolutely

Review:

On Swift Horses is one of those films that starts slow, almost deceptively so, and before you realize it, you’ve sunk into its dusty, sunburnt world. Set in the 1950s, it follows Muriel (Daisy Edgar-Jones), a newlywed whose life takes a turn when her husband’s brother Julius (Jacob Elordi) — a charming, self-destructive ex-soldier — reenters their lives. He’s the kind of man who drags both trouble and beauty behind him, and Muriel, who’s been living quietly, starts to feel her world stretch and crack under his influence.

At first, it plays like a domestic drama — polite dinners, small-town gossip, a woman trying to fit the mold. But then, like a mirage in the desert, the movie tilts. Julius drifts westward, landing in Las Vegas, and his story becomes something altogether different: all heat, risk, and yearning. He meets Henry (Diego Calva), a gambler with eyes that see right through him, and suddenly, we’re not in the quiet Midwest anymore. We’re in the blurred lines of forbidden love, queer desire, and the illusion of escape.

The pacing is deliberate, and the film luxuriates in silence — long stares, half-smiles, the rustle of wind through motel curtains. It’s very much a “watch it unfold” experience. Daisy Edgar-Jones nails that fragile, restless energy, while Elordi (in maybe his best role yet) balances swagger and vulnerability like a tightrope walker. Diego Calva is magnetic; their chemistry burns quietly but completely, like a match that refuses to go out.

There’s also this undercurrent of longing that feels specifically queer — not just for a person, but for a different life. Every choice feels dangerous and deeply human. These characters aren’t just falling in love; they’re clawing at the edges of the cages built around them.

The cinematography deserves a standing ovation. The desert isn’t just a backdrop — it’s a character. The lighting shifts between golden nostalgia and harsh neon realism, reflecting the two halves of these characters’ lives: the dream they want and the reality they can’t quite escape.

That said, this isn’t a film for someone looking for a tidy narrative or constant action. It lingers. It aches. Sometimes it even drifts. But if you’ve ever felt trapped between what you want and what the world expects, it hits home.

Final Thoughts:

Watching On Swift Horses felt like reading a love letter that was never meant to be sent. It’s subtle, sensual, and quietly devastating. The queer storyline doesn’t feel like a subplot — it’s the pulse of the movie. Every frame aches with what’s unsaid.

Is it a happy film? Not really. But it’s honest in the way that love stories rarely are — it understands that desire doesn’t always fit neatly into morality, and that freedom sometimes costs more than we expect.

⭐⭐⭐⭐½
4½ out of 5 Stars. It loses a half-flag for its slow pacing in parts, but everything else — the performances, the tension, the aching beauty of it — more than makes up for it.

If you’ve seen On Swift Horses — or have another film I need to add to my queue — tell me what you thought or shout at me on BlueSky.

LGBTQ+ Cinema Club – On Swift Horses (2024) Read Post »

LGBTQ+ Cinema Club: There’s a Zombie Outside (2024)

By /
There's a Zombie Outside movie poster

Directed by Michael Varrati

Quick Info:

  • Title: There’s a Zombie Outside
  • Year: 2024
  • Directed by: Michael Varrati
  • Starring: Ben Baur, Phylicia Wissa, Danny Plotner
  • Where I Watched It: Dekkoo.com — curiosity got the better of me

Queer-o-Meter:
🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈 (4 out of 5 Pride Flags)
Plenty of queer energy, self-aware horror nods, and existential dread — even if some of it went straight over my head.

One-Line Summary:
A horror filmmaker starts seeing his movie monsters creeping into real life — and the lines between creation, obsession, and reality get delightfully (and sometimes bewilderingly) blurred.

Standout Scene:
There’s a point where Ben Baur’s character stares out the window, watching something shambling in the dark — and it’s hard to tell whether it’s a zombie or his own imagination turning against him. The tension is thick, the lighting perfect, and for a second, I thought, okay, now we’re cooking.

Favorite Line:

“I already let the zombie in.”
That tagline alone sums up the film’s whole vibe — the idea that the monsters we fear most are the ones we create ourselves.

Would I Rewatch?

Once was enough – unless there’s a lot of wine

Review:
Okay, cards on the table — this one really wasn’t for me. I wanted to love it (especially since Michael Varrati’s been doing some cool things for queer horror lately), but somewhere between the metaphor-heavy dialogue and the dreamlike pacing, I got a little lost. It’s one of those movies where you keep thinking you missed something important, but then realize, nope — that was the scene.

Ben Baur plays a horror creator haunted by his own imagination, and he’s solid here — charming, anxious, and a little unhinged in all the right ways. Phylicia Wissa brings grounding energy to her scenes, while Danny Plotner adds humor and bite. I actually liked the cast a lot; it’s just that the story itself kept zig-zagging between reality and hallucination in a way that left me squinting at the screen.

That said, there are flashes of brilliance. Some of the visuals are striking — washed in eerie neon light, with just enough grain to give it that late-night VHS feel. And yes, I did get a good laugh out of the zombie sex scene. Totally unexpected, kind of ridiculous, but it made me grin — and honestly, any movie that can still make me laugh after confusing me for half an hour deserves a little credit.

It’s clear that Varrati had something deeper on his mind: how artists become consumed by the monsters they create, and how fear can be a reflection of our own identities. I just wish it had been a touch more straightforward about it. There’s a great movie somewhere in there — it just feels like it’s buried under too many layers of self-awareness and symbolism.

Final Thoughts:
There’s a Zombie Outside is ambitious, moody, and unapologetically queer — and I respect the hell out of that. But it’s also the kind of movie that’ll either click for you or leave you checking the time. For me, it leaned toward the latter. Still, I’m glad I watched it. Even if it left me scratching my head, it at least gave me a good chuckle along the way.

The Cinema Club Verdict:
⭐⭐⭐
3 out of 5 Pride Flags. Points for creativity and queer horror representation, but minus a couple for confusion and pacing — and bonus points for zombie sex, because… wow.

If you’ve seen There’s a Zombie Outside, tell me if you figured out what was going on — or if you, too, were just along for the weird, undead ride. You can find me rambling about movies on BlueSky.

Norian's Gamble book cover

What happens when the heir to a kingdom is bound by the curse of the wolf? For Prince Norian, the answer comes with blood, fire, and the terrifying knowledge that dark magic has singled him out. As shadows close in, he must protect his people from an enemy who will stop at nothing to seize the throne. Danger, destiny, and deadly secrets entwine in Norian’s Gamble.

LGBTQ+ Cinema Club: There’s a Zombie Outside (2024) Read Post »

Movies, Queerness, and the Occasional Ramble — A New Blog Thing?

By /

two young men at the cinema

Okay, so I was sipping my questionable third cup of reheated coffee the other day (because I’m fancy like that), and my brain did that thing where it jumps tracks mid-thought like a squirrel changing sidewalks. Out of nowhere, I started thinking about my Movie-a-Day challenge from last year. If you were here for that chaos, you know—it was a lot. A lot. I mean, who knew watching a movie every single day could be both thrilling and weirdly exhausting? There were days I watched some obscure Czech gay drama at 1 a.m. just to keep the streak alive. But honestly? I kinda loved it. Even when the movie was baffling or the subtitles were clearly translated by someone using Google Translate in a moving car.

Anyway, that whole experience stuck with me in this itchy, persistent way. Like glitter you spilled a year ago that’s still showing up in your socks. So now I’m getting that itch again to dive into movies…but I’m not about to commit to another daily watchathon. I like sleep. And snacks. And maintaining the illusion that I have a life.

So here’s my thought: a queer cinema exploration series. You know, something where I dig into LGBTQ+ films a couple times a week, then hop on here to ramble about them with all the enthusiasm of someone who just discovered garlic aioli for the first time. (Seriously, why is garlic aioli so good? It’s just mayo and garlic. Witchcraft.)

Now, before anyone side-eyes me like, “Wait, isn’t this a writing blog? Why are we talking about movies?”—look, I get it. But I write about queer characters. I read queer stories. I live a queer life. And sometimes, I need to talk about queer movies too, okay? Plus, writing and film are besties. They share snacks and secrets. Film influences my storytelling all the time—structure, pacing, tone. And sometimes, I just want to yell about how Portrait of a Lady on Fire made me feel emotionally wrecked in the most tender way. That’s valid.

Also, queer cinema is such a treasure trove of underdog storytelling and awkward first kisses and found family magic. From the gritty ’90s indies to the glossy coming-outs of the 2020s, there’s so much to explore. I might rewatch classics like The Watermelon Woman or My Own Private Idaho, or finally tackle those quiet little foreign queer films that people always whisper about like they’re sharing state secrets.

I haven’t pinned down a start date just yet. Let’s just say it’ll begin “soon-ish,” which is vague enough to be both noncommittal and oddly comforting. You’ll know it’s begun when a post appears that starts with, “Okay, so I watched this film and—OH MY GAY HEART.” I’ll probably call the series “Adventures in LGBTQ Cinema” or something like that.  Another option is “A Year in Queer Cinema,” though I may continue it past a year (who knows?).

Anyway, I hope you’re into this idea, because I’m really looking forward to it. It’ll be like a casual hangout where I throw some thoughts at the wall, and you can decide if they’re worth anything or just artfully arranged nonsense. Maybe it’ll even spark a few movie recommendations from you, which I am always down for. (Unless it’s Cats. Don’t do that to me.)

Thanks for reading my slightly-caffeinated ramble. Catch you soon for some cinematic queerness!

Movies, Queerness, and the Occasional Ramble — A New Blog Thing? Read Post »

A Love Letter to Queer Coming-of-Age Films

By /

young male couple at outdoor theater

I don’t know about you, but the first time I saw a queer character on screen who actually felt like me, it was like someone cracked open a secret door I didn’t know existed. For me, that moment was watching Beautiful Thing on a scratchy VHS tape I’d rented from the one indie video store in town that dared to have a “Gay/Lesbian” section hidden behind the foreign films. I must’ve been fifteen or sixteen, sitting cross-legged on the carpet, lights off, terrified my mom might walk in, and there it was: two awkward boys, figuring out who they were, falling in love without the world immediately ending. I swear I held my breath for the entire runtime.

The First Time Films Saw Me Back

Queer coming-of-age movies are like time capsules for emotions. They’re messy, tender, sometimes tragic, sometimes giddy, but always—always—honest. Watching Moonlight for the first time, I felt this ache in my chest that didn’t quite go away for days. That moment on the beach? You know the one. It felt like the kind of intimacy we were never supposed to see on screen, but there it was—quiet, vulnerable, devastatingly beautiful.

Then there’s Love, Simon, which I’ll admit I went into with a bit of side-eye because I thought it might be too glossy, too safe. But honestly? I cried. Like full-on ugly cried. Because here was a mainstream teen rom-com, backed by a major studio, letting a gay kid have the Ferris wheel kiss he deserved. Fifteen-year-old me would’ve killed for that movie. Instead, I had American Pie and an endless parade of “token gay best friends” played for laughs.

And let’s not forget Call Me by Your Name. The Italian sunlight, the peaches (yes, those peaches), the ache of first love wrapped in art and languid summer days. That final shot of Timothée Chalamet crying by the fireplace might be one of the most accurate depictions of heartbreak I’ve ever seen on screen.

The Messy Middle Ground

Not every queer coming-of-age film is soft-focus and affirming. Some are chaotic and raw, and that’s part of why I love them. Pariah absolutely gutted me in the best possible way. It’s about identity, family, and the jagged edges of growing up when your truth doesn’t match the script your parents wrote for you.

Or take The Miseducation of Cameron Post. It’s not an easy watch—conversion therapy never is—but there’s something incredibly defiant about the way it balances trauma with friendship and resilience.

Blue is the Warmest Color might be divisive (and rightfully criticized for how it was made), but for a lot of folks, it cracked open conversations about queer first loves and obsession. Similarly, Tomboy—about a French child navigating gender identity—hit me with such gentle honesty. Céline Sciamma has a gift for capturing adolescence in all its messy, questioning glory (Water Lilies deserves a nod here too).

Mysterious Skin is another one that doesn’t flinch. It’s haunting, painful, and deeply unsettling, but it tackles trauma in a way that feels brutally honest. Same goes for God’s Own Country, which somehow manages to mix heartbreak, mud, tenderness, and hope all in one windswept Yorkshire farm setting.

And Maurice—based on E.M. Forster’s novel—remains one of the most quietly radical queer love stories ever put to film.

The Quirky Comforts

Sometimes, though, I want my queer teen stories to be weird and a little awkward—because, let’s be real, being a teenager is weird and awkward. Edge of Seventeen (the 1998 one, not the Hailee Steinfeld one) was another VHS discovery for me, and it remains one of my favorites.

Then there’s But I’m a Cheerleader—camp, satire, bubblegum-pink absurdity—and yet, underneath all the silliness, it nails the reality of compulsory heterosexuality and how ridiculous (and damaging) those expectations are.

Other films in this camp? Geography Club, GBF, Alex Strangelove, Crush, and the Brazilian gem The Way He Looks, which is basically a warm hug of a film.

The Quiet Gems

Some films never make the mainstream but deserve love. North Sea Texas, a small Belgian film, is beautifully understated and tender. Summer of 85 (French, dramatic, seaside) captures teenage obsession and grief in a way that hit me harder than I expected.

Closet Monster—with its surreal touches (yes, that hamster voiced by Isabella Rossellini)—is one of the most inventive portrayals of queer fear and desire I’ve ever seen.

My Beautiful Laundrette (1985) deserves its flowers too—an interracial gay romance set against Thatcher-era tensions in London.

I also can’t not mention My Own Private Idaho. River Phoenix and Keanu Reeves wandering through street hustling, Shakespearean monologues, and desolate highways—messy, tragic, beautiful. Same goes for Beau Travail—queer desire wrapped in French Foreign Legion uniforms and hypnotic dance sequences.

And if we’re talking groundbreaking, Torch Song Trilogy and Milk both deserve special status. The first gave us Harvey Fierstein’s wry, biting, devastatingly human portrait of love and loss. The second (with Sean Penn as Harvey Milk) gave us a history lesson in activism that still inspires me to this day.

Why These Films Matter

The thing about queer coming-of-age films is that they don’t just tell stories—they give permission. They whisper, “You’re not the only one.” When I was a teenager, that whisper was everything. Today, I think about some kid in a small town scrolling through streaming platforms, stumbling onto Heartstopper, Anything’s Possible, or Saturday Church, and feeling seen for the first time.

Even now, I still devour these movies. They remind me of all the versions of myself I’ve been: the scared kid hiding DVDs under my bed, the young adult finding courage in messy indie films, the grown-up who can finally laugh, cry, and cheer along without shame.

So yeah, this is my love letter to queer coming-of-age films. To the VHS tapes, the festival indies, the Netflix originals, the Milwaukee LGBT Film Festival (RIP), the hidden gems, and the big glossy rom-coms. You held my hand when no one else did. You cracked open doors I didn’t know I was allowed to walk through. And you still keep reminding me that queer joy, queer pain, queer first loves—they all matter, and they all deserve to be told.

Thanks for listening to me gush. Now tell me—what was your first queer coming-of-age film?

Queer Coming-of-Age Starter Pack (A Non-Comprehensive but Totally Loving List)

  • Beautiful Thing (1996)
  • Moonlight (2016)
  • Love, Simon (2018)
  • Call Me by Your Name (2017)
  • Pariah (2011)
  • The Miseducation of Cameron Post (2018)
  • Blue is the Warmest Color (2013)
  • Tomboy (2011)
  • Water Lilies (2007)
  • Mysterious Skin (2004)
  • God’s Own Country (2017)
  • Maurice (1987)
  • Edge of Seventeen (1998)
  • But I’m a Cheerleader (1999)
  • Geography Club (2013)
  • GBF (2013)
  • Alex Strangelove (2018)
  • Crush (2022)
  • The Way He Looks (2014)
  • North Sea Texas (2011)
  • Summer of 85 (2020)
  • Closet Monster (2015)
  • My Beautiful Laundrette (1985)
  • My Own Private Idaho (1991)
  • Beau Travail (1999)
  • Torch Song Trilogy (1988)
  • Milk (2008)

A Love Letter to Queer Coming-of-Age Films Read Post »

The Best Queer Horror Films That Actually Scared Me (and Didn’t Suck)

By /

two young men watching a horror film at cinema

Because gay horror lovers need more than subtext and sad metaphors

Okay, look — being a queer horror fan is sometimes like begging for scraps at the world’s saddest buffet. “Oh, you want representation and good storytelling and maybe an actual scare or two? How dare you.” Most of the time we’re tossed haunted-conversion-camp metaphors (ugh) or that one tragic gay couple who predictably dies 25 minutes in so the straight characters can Feel Something.

But every so often, the horror gods slide a little gem under the door. The kind that makes you clutch the blanket _and_feel seen (not in the creepy ghost way, in the emotional oh-my-God-they’re-gay-like-me way). So here are the queer horror films that actually creeped me out and didn’t make me roll my eyes so hard I pulled a muscle.

Spiral (2019)

This one is basically “Get Out” but make it gay. We’ve got a queer couple and their daughter moving to a nice, quiet suburb (because that always goes well). Spoiler: it absolutely does not go well. The neighbors are super friendly…like too friendly. Things get culty. Paranoia builds. And the social commentary doesn’t feel shoehorned in — it’s woven through the dread in a way that feels way too real. I didn’t sleep great after watching it. So there’s that.

Hellbent (2004)

Yes, it’s campy. Yes, it’s very early-2000s (there is gelled hair, be warned). But it’s also one of the first slasher films with a group of openly gay characters who — imagine this — actually feel like human beings. Is it groundbreaking cinema? No. Does it deliver Halloween-night vibes, sexy costumes, and a masked killer stalking gay men at a West Hollywood carnival? Absolutely. And honestly, the kill scenes are genuinely tense. Like… I caught myself holding my breath a few times.

Lyle (2014)

This is basically Rosemary’s Baby, but lesbian and extremely low-budget. And somehow, that lo-fi vibe makes it even creepier? Gaby Hoffmann gives a performance that had me yelling at the screen at 2am. It’s slow burn, psychological paranoia, “everyone is against me” energy — but holy hell, it builds. By the end I was sweating like I’d done cardio. Which I had not.

They/Them (2022)

Okay please don’t run away — I know a lot of queer folks side-eyed this one because of the gimmicky title and the fact that queer trauma is already exhausting. But hear me out. It surprised me. Like, yes, it uses a conversion camp setting (sigh), but it also throws in an actual slasher and lets the queer characters have agency and personality. Also, Kevin Bacon is terrifying. Probably the scariest he’s been since Footloose.

Thelma (2017)

Not technically horror in the jump scare sense — it’s more supernatural/psychological — but the creepy tension is so thick you could spread it on toast. It’s about a sheltered Norwegian woman who realizes her repressed emotions (and sexuality) might be causing psychic weirdness. There are seizures. Birds crash into windows. Reality goes sideways. It’s gorgeous and unsettling. And yes, it’ll make you question whether you’re secretly telekinetic.

Scream, Queen! My Nightmare on Elm Street (2019)

Okay, technically this is a documentary, but hear me out — it’s basically real-life queer horror. It follows actor Mark Patton (the lead from A Nightmare on Elm Street 2) and explores how the film accidentally became a super-gay cult classic… and more importantly, how the homophobia of the 80s basically torpedoed his career. It’s fascinating, heartbreaking, and honestly kind of terrifying in a “society is the real monster” way.

The Haunting of Bly Manor (2020)

Fine, it’s technically a series. But the slow-burn gothic horror and absolutely devastating queer love story makes it 100% worth including. Also, I still occasionally think about that faceless ghost at 2am and immediately regret my life decisions.

Raw (2016)

French coming-of-age cannibalism with a bisexual subtext so thick it might as well be plaintext. It’s not _explicitly_queer… but the sexual awakening angle and I-might-eat-you tension gives it a real sapphic energy. Also, it’s completely gross and unsettling in the best possible way. I legit had to look away a couple of times.

The Perfection (2018)

Two female cello prodigies. Intense sexual chemistry. Violent revenge. Body horror. Psychological mind games. It keeps reinventing itself every 20 minutes, and by the end you’re basically screaming “WHAT IS EVEN HAPPENING” — but in a good way. Queer chaos energy all the way through.

High Tension / Haute Tension (2003)

Classic French slasher with one of those endings people still argue about. Heavy queer subtext (some would say…text), ridiculously brutal kill scenes, and a lot of sweaty, nerve-shredding tension. It’s divisive, but it definitely doesn’t _suck_and it 100% scared me.

Bodies Bodies Bodies (2022)

Gen Z, bisexual chaos, murder in a mansion during a hurricane, and a very funny critique of fake-woke friend groups. It’s technically a horror-comedy, but it still has legit tension and one of the best “queer panic” fight sequences I’ve seen. Also, the ending? hilarious AND slightly traumatizing.

Why These Hit Different

There’s something deeply powerful about seeing queer characters in horror who aren’t just metaphors or jokes. These films basically say: your identity is not the horror — the world around you is. And let’s be honest, that’s way more terrifying than another sad coming-out allegory with ghost makeup.

Also, on a personal level? It’s nice not to have to interpret every shadowy figure as “the embodiment of internalized homophobia.” Sometimes a murderous cult is just a murderous cult. Love wins, but sometimes murder wins too, and that’s honestly kind of refreshing.

Honorable Mentions (Because I’m Incapable of Leaving Things Out)

  • Knife+Heart — stylish AF, like if Dario Argento took a queer film class
  • The Retreat — lesbians vs serial killers in the woods (yes, I said lesbians vs serial killers and yes, it’s as entertaining as it sounds)
  • Bit — trans vampire girlboss supremacy

Anyway. If you’re a fellow queer horror fan who’s tired of subtext and tragic metaphors, put these on your “watch with lights off and snacks prepared” list. Then message me when you’re inevitably freaked out and yelling “NOPE” at the screen (especially during Spiral).

Stay spooky!

The Best Queer Horror Films That Actually Scared Me (and Didn’t Suck) Read Post »

My Favorite Queer Movies That Don’t End in Tragedy

By /

AdobeStock 285486791.

There was a time when watching queer movies felt like voluntarily signing up for emotional devastation. Like, “Oh, what’s this? A touching love story between two men set in a small town? Cool, can’t wait to watch one of them die slowly in the rain or get sent away forever by disapproving parents.” Cue violins and trauma.

And don’t even get me started on the whole “bury your gays” nonsense. I’ve seen more tragic queer storylines than I’ve seen reruns of Golden Girls—and trust me, I’ve seen a lot of Golden Girls.

So today, I’m serving up some cinematic joy. These are my go-to queer movies that don’t end with heartbreak, funerals, or one partner flying off to another continent to start a life of quiet suffering. These are the movies that gave us queer characters who live, love, and—gasp—get a happy ending. Imagine that!

1. The Way He Looks (2014)

Brazilian, tender, and so sweet you might get a little sugar rush. It’s about a blind teenager named Leo and his friendship-turned-romance with Gabriel, the new boy at school. There’s no dramatic outing, no tragic accident—just a slowly blooming love story that left my heart feeling weirdly… full? Like, in a good way. I watched it with a stupid grin the whole time.

Bonus: the music is lowkey perfect and makes me want to dance barefoot in the rain.

2. Love, Simon (2018)

Yes, it’s teen rom-com fluff, but it’s our teen rom-com fluff. I cried when I first saw this—not because it was tragic, but because I realized I’d never had anything like this growing up. Simon is just a regular high school kid with a supportive family and friends, trying to figure out who his anonymous online crush is. The Ferris wheel scene? Adorable. This movie walked so more queer rom-coms could run.

And yes, I absolutely shipped Simon and Bram from the moment Bram spilled that Oreo.

3. Red, White & Royal Blue (2023)

This movie is pure fanfic energy in the best possible way—and I say that with total affection. The First Son of the United States and the Prince of England accidentally fall into a cake, and then fall into each other. There are secret rendezvous, flirty texts, political drama, and a steamy lake house moment that had me pausing the movie like five times just to grin at the screen.

It’s campy, dramatic, earnest, and incredibly satisfying. And the ending? Oh yeah—they fight for each other and get their happy ending. Cue me yelling “YESSS” at my TV while clutching a throw pillow.

4. Saving Face (2004)

Okay, this one is so underrated it hurts. A Chinese-American woman is juggling being closeted, a surgeon, and dealing with her very pregnant and very traditional mother. Sounds stressful? Yeah—but it’s also romantic, funny, and warm in all the right ways. There’s queer joy, cultural identity, and actual character growth.

Also, Vivian. Just… Vivian. You’ll see what I mean.

5. Imagine Me & You (2005)

If you’ve ever wanted to shout “LOOK AT HOW CUTE THEY ARE” at your TV screen, this one’s for you. It’s a British rom-com where a woman realizes she might not be as into her new husband as she is into the woman arranging the flowers at her wedding. Classic setup, right?

The chemistry between Rachel and Luce is off the charts, and yes, it actually ends happily. It’s charming, awkward, and full of those “oops I fell for a woman” vibes.

6. But I’m a Cheerleader (1999)

Campy. Colorful. And absolutely iconic. Natasha Lyonne plays a teenager sent to a conversion camp (gross), where she ends up falling for fellow camper Clea DuVall (swoon). Yes, the setup sounds tragic, but the execution is pure queer rebellion wrapped in neon pink.

This movie is equal parts absurd satire and genuinely heartfelt. It flips the conversion trope on its head and gives us a sapphic ending that still makes me cheer. Pun intended.

7. Dating Amber (2020)

Set in 1990s Ireland, this one hit me in the feelings but didn’t leave me broken. Two queer teens—one gay, one lesbian—decide to fake-date each other to get through school without harassment. What starts as a plan of convenience slowly becomes this deep, supportive friendship that had me yelling “PROTECT THEM AT ALL COSTS.”

No one dies. No one gets hit by a truck. It’s just… honest and hopeful.

8. Alex Strangelove (2018)

Another high school coming-out film that ends on a high note. Alex is figuring out his sexuality while navigating a straight-presenting relationship. It’s awkward, messy, and super relatable. And the final kiss? Yeah. I might’ve squealed. I regret nothing.

A Few Honorable Mentions:

  • Happiest Season (2020) — Okay, this one is a little fraught, but we still get a happy couple at the end, and Aubrey Plaza is in a suit. So. There’s that.
  • Moonlight (2016) — Not exactly sunshine and daisies, but it’s not tragic either. It’s quiet, emotional, and ends on a moment of connection and softness.
  • Maurice (1987) — A literal miracle for its time. It’s a period drama with a happy ending. Like, what?

Why This Matters (and Why I Won’t Shut Up About It)

Look—I love a good cry as much as the next queer drama queen. But sometimes? I just want to see people like me fall in love and not be punished for it. I want soft kisses under streetlights, clumsy confessions in bedrooms, dancing in kitchens, and goofy smiles at the end of the movie instead of existential despair.

We’ve had enough of the tragic endings. It’s time we get more queer stories that end in laughter, love, and maybe even a sequel.

Alright, your turn: what are your favorite queer movies that don’t wreck your soul?

P.S. If you haven’t watched Red, White & Royal Blue, please go experience that joy. I’ll wait.

My Favorite Queer Movies That Don’t End in Tragedy Read Post »

Scroll to Top