Movies

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

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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!

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A Love Letter to Queer Coming-of-Age Films

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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)

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

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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!

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My Favorite Queer Movies That Don’t End in Tragedy

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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.

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So I Watched James Gunn’s Superman and Honestly? I’m Kind of in Love

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image of Superman

Okay, so listen. I just got back from watching Superman—yes, the shiny new 2025 reboot directed by James Gunn—and I’m still buzzing. Like, I was not expecting to feel this giddy about a superhero movie, especially one about a guy who wears his underwear over his tights and saves cats from trees. But here we are. I loved it. I mean, loved it.

You know when you watch something and you’re like, “Oh no, this is gonna live in my head for a while”? Yeah, that was me about twenty minutes in, when David Corenswet soared across the sky for the first time. That man is Superman. Like, not in a cosplay kind of way. I mean, if Superman were real and had impeccable hair and smoldery eyes that make you question everything about your allegiance to Batman—yeah, that’s David.

Plot Stuff (Because Apparently That Matters)

So, the film sets us in a world that’s kind of tired of superheroes. Like, “oh great, another flying dude with laser eyes” kind of tired. But Clark Kent, fresh out of Smallville and new to Metropolis, still believes in truth and justice and helping people because it’s the right thing to do. I know, radical, right?

We get a peek into his early days at the Daily Planet, where Lois Lane (played by Rachel Brosnahan, who was absolutely magnetic, by the way) is already deep in conspiracy theory land about something sketchy going on at LexCorp. Meanwhile, Lex Luthor—cue Nicholas Hoult doing his best “menace in a tailored suit” energy—is rolling out a new AI-powered defense system that’s totally not evil. (Spoiler: it’s evil.)

And then bam! Everything goes full-on chaos when Lex’s “security bots” turn on the city, and Superman has to decide whether being good is enough when people are afraid of what you can do. It’s kind of philosophical in that James Gunn way—like, here’s a guy who could crush a tank like it’s a soda can, but he’s still out here second-guessing whether saving people is even welcome anymore.

The Cast (AKA: Let’s Talk About That Bald Brilliance)

Can we just take a second to talk about Nicholas Hoult as Lex Luthor? I wasn’t sold at first, to be honest. I had flashbacks of his Beast makeup from X-Men: First Class and couldn’t unsee it. But he absolutely ate this role. He’s cold, calculated, weirdly charming in a “this guy absolutely has a cryogenic chamber for his skincare routine” kind of way. And the dude’s got this crew of Gen Z tech bros sitting behind massive gaming monitors, fist-pumping and meme-ing every time Superman gets knocked down. I had to laugh. Like, I get what Gunn was going for—corporate villainy meets Silicon Valley absurdity—but it was a little much. Funny, but maybe turned up to 11 when 8 would’ve done the job.

Still, Hoult nailed it. There’s this one scene where he’s just quietly watching the city fall apart outside his skyscraper window, sipping coffee like he’s watching Succession. No evil monologue, no shouting—just vibes. Chilling, in the best way.

And let’s circle back to David Corenswet, because yes. The dude has the wholesome charm down pat. He’s got the dorky Clark Kent shrug and the “I could lift a mountain but would rather help you carry groceries” sincerity. There’s this scene with Ma Kent back at the farm (yes, it’s still in Kansas, yes, I cried), and it’s like, this is why Superman works. It’s not just the flying or the lasers—it’s the heart. And David brings it.

Rachel Brosnahan’s Lois is smart, fierce, and somehow not just a side character. She’s doing things. She’s chasing leads, pushing Clark to think harder, and holding her own without falling into that tired “damsel in distress” trap. And I loved that they didn’t try to force the romance too hard—there’s chemistry, but it’s slow burn. My favorite kind.

Now Let’s Talk About the Elephant in the Red Cape

Superman Immigrant

So the film has gotten some flak online. Certain corners of the internet (read: right-wing pundits with too much free time) have been calling for a boycott because of how the movie leans into Superman’s identity as—brace yourself—an immigrant. Groundbreaking, right?

I mean, Superman has always been the original immigrant story. The guy literally crash-landed from another planet, was raised in Kansas, and grew up wanting to do good in a world that didn’t fully understand him. That’s not new. That’s baked into the mythos. If that makes you uncomfortable, maybe superheroes just aren’t your thing?

James Gunn didn’t sugarcoat it either. The movie draws some pretty clear parallels to current political tensions—fear of outsiders, media manipulation, weaponizing “national security,” all that fun stuff. Watching Lex whip up public paranoia with sleek soundbites and AI surveillance while Superman’s just trying to be the good guy? Yeah, it felt real. A little too real, honestly.

There’s this scene where Superman saves a group of refugees and then gets accused of interfering in “sovereign affairs” by some snaky government mouthpiece. That hit hard. Like, it wasn’t even subtle. But that’s kind of the point. Good science fiction—and superhero films, when they’re brave—hold up a mirror. And this one doesn’t flinch.

I only hope we get the same hopeful outcome in real life. Because if Clark Kent can still believe in the goodness of people after all that, maybe there’s still hope for us too.

So, Yeah…

This wasn’t just a “good Superman movie.” It was a good movie, period. Like, I went in expecting popcorn fun and walked out with a slight identity crisis about morality, immigration, and AI surveillance. Thanks, James Gunn. I guess I needed that?

If you’ve been on the fence, hop off and go see it. It’s smart, heartfelt, funny, a little chaotic—and it gives Superman his soul back without making it corny.

Can’t wait to see what’s next. Also, if Nicholas Hoult ever plays a Bond villain, just take my money now.

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Spellbound & Fabulous — Queer Icons Who Deserve Supernatural Roles

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creepy lookiing guy with face half alien

So, I’ve been thinking (always a dangerous start, right?): What if we could pick our favorite queer actors and bless them with supernatural roles? Like, how amazing would it be to see some of the most talented LGBTQ+ folks playing witches, warlocks, vampires, shapeshifters, or whatever other magical beings are lurking out there? I mean, supernatural stories thrive on drama, with all the brooding and epic battles, and who does high drama better than queer folks?? Answer: No one, honestly. The casting universe needs to get with the program and give us more of this.

Okay, let’s dive in.

First on my list—and this might be influenced by my low-key obsession with him—Billy Porter. We already know Billy brings flair, elegance, and power to pretty much everything he does (like, POSE anyone? Have you seen that wardrobe?). Now, imagine him as the most extra, fashion-forward warlock, living in some chic urban magical headquarters. He’d be the kind of warlock who’s ten steps ahead of everyone else, raises an eyebrow and—bam—summons a dragon. And don’t even get me started on the outfits. He’d slaughter in those sweeping ceremonial robes. Plus, his voice alone could literally enchant an entire council of elders into agreeing with whatever scheme he’s cooking up.

Now, let’s talk Indya Moore. If Indya wasn’t already a real-life goddess, I’d say it’s time for them to enter the supernatural world. Indya would make an incredible vampire queen—like, picture it. Regal, ancient, and incredibly fierce. The kind of vampire that doesn’t just sip tea (uh, blood) in a castle, but…stalks the night in designer heels. There’s something in their quiet intensity that screams “ancient power in a very modern world.” Plus, those eyes? Hypnotic. Probably doesn’t even need vamp powers to get you under their thrall (I mean, don’t pretend you’d resist).

I feel like Elliot Page would be such a phenomenal shapeshifter. Hear me out. Elliot has this really grounded, subtle approach to acting—you totally believe him in whatever he’s doing—with the ability to make you care about his character’s journey. A department store shapeshifter, living among ordinary humans while secretly bouncing between identities for fun? Honestly, his dry humor would make those interactions so relatable and hilarious. One second, he’s a sassy cat refusing to get off a random stranger’s car, the next, he’s casually rescuing people without anyone noticing. He’d definitely be chaotic neutral.

And uh, speaking of chaos—Laverne Cox as a kickass witch. So we already know Laverne has this incredible, commanding screen presence, right? Well, imagine her character as this stunning, highly powerful witch who walks into a magical council meeting and just takes over with perfect composure. Everyone else is fumbling around with their spell books, and Laverne’s already untangling interdimensional knots with a snap of her fingers and a perfectly arched eyebrow. I bet she’d have snarky, layered spells where the magic’s elegant, but deadly—and that’s exactly what we need in a world that doesn’t take magical queens seriously. Trust Laverne to shut that down.

Also, I’m going to sneak in Dan Levy for a role as some chaotic, ethereal fae king. Come on, you know it works. The man was born to be a snarky magical creature. I envision him leading a band of misfit fae, being salty about literally everything but also very on top of an ancient war over enchanted forests or whatever it is fae squabble about. There’s such an “I don’t have time for humanity’s shenanigans” look in his eye that he’d wear the crown without even trying. And don’t you just know David Rose believes in magic? No one who owns that many scarves doesn’t believe there’s a magical manatee somewhere out there.

Next up for hero vamp status: Tessa Thompson. Look, we’ve already seen some insane action from Tessa in Thor: Ragnarok as Valkyrie (she literally showed up on a spaceship, casually, while flipping off all kinds of danger). Imagine that energy as a rogue vampire, equal parts conviction, rebellion, and stunning. The blade work alone would be freaking epic. I just want her dressed in leather, owning the night with a cool smirk and her swanky vampiric underground headquarters. Honestly, she could take down a whole council of ancient vampires while sipping a cocktail and not look even mildly stressed. And I’d be lining up for that battle scene.

Last, but nowhere near least, Janelle Monáe needs to play a goddess—preferably one who shifts between realms like it’s just… brunch plans. I mean, have you seen her entire aesthetic? I’m imagining a goddess of chaos and cosmic justice, one who’s got one foot in the real world and the other in something totally otherworldly. She’d wear those super sleek, futuristic outfits from her music videos, but in a divine way, and her powers would just be unstoppable. Oh, and music would definitely bend to her will—so calling on different dimensions with a different style of music every time? Yeah, that.

Okay, I realize I could go on for hours—Sara Ramirez would make a gnarly werewolf leader who’s actually balancing classes at law school, and don’t get me started on Ezra Miller—but we don’t have all day. So, if you’re feeling any of these picks, let me know, and we can totally start drafting some petitions to send to Hollywood. They’re way overdue on queer magical representation. 😉

Spellbound & Fabulous — Queer Icons Who Deserve Supernatural Roles Read Post »

The Lost Art of Cursive… AKA My Chicken-Scratch Future!

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image of cursive writing with fountain pen

Okay, so here’s something that genuinely blew my mind recently. Apparently, there is an entire generation of young people walking around totally incapable of reading (let alone writing) in cursive. I know, right? It’s like discovering the secret underground world of, well… people who will never know the pain of perfecting a capital “Q” (seriously, HOW was that considered a “Q”? It’s literally a curly number 2).

Now, I’ll be the first to admit, my cursive isn’t exactly a work of art. My chicken-scratch handwriting has definitely seen better days, thanks to a combination of speed, laziness, and, well, being me. But still, every single notebook I own is filled with cursive scribbles from top to bottom. Side note: I’m talking actual notebooks, guys. Not the notes app on my phone (which is reserved for my random 3 AM thoughts like, “Do ghosts wear pants?”). Cursive, for me, is just faster, messier, and – believe it or not – easier for my brain to churn out ideas without hitting the ol’ mental speed bump every 10 seconds.

I’ve tried printing, mainly because a small part of me hopes it’ll make my handwriting less of an aesthetic disaster. But, honestly, going from the nice flowy loops of cursive to blocky, rigid printing? It’s SO much slower, and I end up feeling like I’m writing with a crayon while wearing 20 pairs of mittens. I don’t have the patience to plod along like that! Although, to be fair, I’ve been swimming in cursive for so long, maybe I just haven’t given printing a proper chance. (Let’s be real though, if I can’t even “properly” brush my hair in the morning, I doubt I have the discipline to completely re-learn how I write.)

But what really messes me up is this: can you imagine 20, 30, 40 years down the line when my grandkids (or whoever) find my old notebooks? They’ll probably open them and think I wrote them in Wingdings font. Future generations won’t have a clue how to decipher what is, to me, just regular-old cursive. Like, “Grandma’s got some weird hieroglyphic code going on.” I’m already dreading the day someone looks at my notebooks like they’re staring at the Rosetta Stone, furrowing their eyebrows, probably using some futuristic auto-translate app just to figure out I was jotting down some random grocery list for lasagna.

In all seriousness though, it’s wild how cursive writing is gradually… disappearing? Who would’ve thought? I mean, I get that typing is way quicker, and kids today are typing almost as soon as they can walk. But cursive being on the “endangered species” list of skills just seems… bizarre?

And listen, I’m not saying everyone needs to be out here perfecting their penmanship like we’re all channeling our inner calligraphers. But it’s strange to think that something I grew up doing daily — without thinking twice — is becoming this relic of ancient adulting. It’s like cursive is turning into its own secret code. That, or my terrible handwriting is just doing an excellent job of future-proofing my journals from prying eyes.

Oh, by the way, random fact that’s kind of cool and relevant: Back in the day, a lot of important documents (like the Declaration of Independence) were written in cursive by people with serious pen game! Imagine John Hancock tossing out his signature in Times New Roman. No thanks. (Source: National Archives)

Anyway, just some thoughts about the slow, unnoticed death of cursive writing. Maybe it’s time I start teaching the younger generation how to write in cursive – ya know, for historical purposes… and for when they eventually need to decode my terrible handwriting.

The Lost Art of Cursive… AKA My Chicken-Scratch Future! Read Post »

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