An Essential Film Guide for Baby Gays

 [Reader disclaimer: spoilers will be discussed. This piece also contains material of a sensitive nature].

Moonlight (2016)

If you're part of the LGBTQ+ community, then I'm sure you've heard the phrase 'baby gay' tossed around in conversation. And for those unfamiliar with the term, a 'baby gay' simply refers to a person of queer association whom is fresh out of the closet, ready to experience all parts of LGBTQ+ culture.

As a queer person myself, I had my baby gay phase. I attended my first Pride in 2012, spent hours in online safe spaces and, of course, watched a lot of gay films; queer cinema (in my opinion) is one of the best ways to initially immerse yourself in the culture. For lots of kids growing up in conservative households or strictly heteronormative environments, queer cinema not only provides representation but also a form of escapism for those unable to come out safely. 

When I began to live my life authentically, I didn't have anyone to teach me. So I hope this piece can be the essential guide for people, like me, who aren't sure where to start.

Gender

Orlando (1992)

Originally a novel by the iconic Virginia Woolf (a bisexual, feminist, pioneer of writing),  Orlando follows a nobleman from the 16th century who remains young forever, experiencing various different forms of love and gender. Orlando (played by the androgynous Tilda Swinton) begins the film as a man but transforms into a woman as they enter the 18th century: this film brilliantly illustrates the duality of the sexes but celebrates a blend of androgyny, queer presentation and defying gender norms.

The Rocky Horror Picture Show (1975)

One of the most iconic musicals in history, The Rocky Horror Picture Show encompasses comedy, lust and horror in the most fabulously camp manner. It is known best for leading man Tim Curry, who plays a cross-dresser from another world (referred to in the film as a "sweet transvestite"): Curry's outfits, consisted of garters, glitter and drag-esque makeup, which consequently paved the way for gender experimentation in the late 70s for a lot of young, queer fans.

A Fantastic Woman (2017)

The most modern film on this list, A Fantastic Woman is an important watch for anyone, regardless of whether you're within the LGBTQ+ community or not. The film depicts the hardships of protagonist Marina (played by Daniela Vega), who experiences assaults, threats and discrimination for being a trans woman. Although it is undoubtedly hard to watch, it's vital for people to see that this is unfortunately the reality for a lot of trans women, but the upside is that not only does this film celebrate being who you are but Marina is played by Vega who is a trans woman in real life as well.

Soldier's Girl (2003)

Whilst I'm usually against films that cast cis actors to portray trans people (you can read my post that goes into further detail on this here), I make an exception for Soldier's Girl because it's a biopic wherein the cis actor, Lee Pace (who plays trans woman Calpernia Addams) worked closely with the real-life individual in order to play her respectfully and realistically. This film features a trans woman but it's more-so focused on her boyfriend, who was sadly murdered for being in love with her. Despite the tragic ending, Soldier's Girl is worth watching in that it shows that love knows no bounds and that relationships between cis and trans individuals should not be execrated as dangerous and/or unnatural.

Sexuality

Blue is the Warmest Colour (2013)

The unfortunate context to Blue is the Warmest Colour is that the lead actresses were not treated very well at all, and that should be acknowledged, but it still remains an important staple of queer cinema because it illustrates a realistic, turbulent relationship between two women. 

Very often in the media, lesbian relationships are fetishized (mainly for male voyeurism), so this film is refreshing in that it's a relationship just like any other and realistically portrays the experience (not everybody's experience, mind you) of coming out, of not being accepted by friends and ultimately facing a harsher judgement from society for living as your authentic self.

Brokeback Mountain (2005)

It may not have won Best Picture at the 78th Academy awards but Brokeback Mountain is arguably one of the most influential films within queer cinema. It showcases two rangers (played Jake Gyllenhaal and the late Heath Ledger) who start a whirlwind romance, despite their heteronormative lifestyles and personal differences. Although the narrative ends in heartbreak, it is definitely one to watch, if not for the phenomenal acting then for the realistic portrayal of toxic masculinity, struggles with bisexuality and the era-appropriate attitude towards same-sex couples.

Carol (2015)

Carol is regarded as one of the best lesbian films period, as it delves into the complicated nature of divorce, femininity as well as the trials and tribulations of one coming to terms with their sexuality. What's wonderful about this period piece is that, contextually, lesbianism would've been incredibly taboo: it is refreshing, then, to see Carol (Cate Blanchett) accept herself at the end of the film and be unapologetically herself.

Interview with the Vampire (1994)

Anne Rice's novella series (The Vampire Chronicles) consists of 13 books, two of which were adapted to film. The first one was made for cinema in 1994, depicting vampires Louis (Brad Pitt) and Lestat (Tom Cruise) spending decades as "companions". Although it is never explicitly said in the film adaptation, the queer connotations certainly shine through as they would've in the book, and this broody, gothic couple are beautiful to watch.

Further watching/historical context

Paris is Burning (1990)

Fans of RuPaul's Drag Race may be familiar with the terms "sashay, shantay", "touch all of this skin" and "serving face", but what you might be unaware of is that these are sayings that RuPaul use in honour of the vogueing scene of New York City, captured in the 90s documentary Paris is Burning. I personally believe this is a must-see for a lot of people, as the political climate of drag and cis-queer spaces has been strife with a lot of transphobia in recent years, which is unbelievable when you consider that the art of drag was co-founded by trans women.

The Celluloid Closet (1995)

Lastly is (perhaps an outdated) documentary on queer cinema itself, starting from all the way back at the birth of film. The documentary features exclusive interviews with both queer people and allies, as well as clips from films historically known for their atrocious representation and/or their accurate depiction of queer identities. A more recent documentary to watch would also be Disclosure (2020), released last year on Netflix: however, it's important to see where we've come from and how far we've got to go, so I'd highly recommend also adding The Celluloid Closet to your watchlist.

- K

Queer-Coded Antagonists: Why We Stan The Baddies

It's the late 90s and I'm sitting on my living room floor, once again engrossed in an episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer (1997-2003): a programme that I'm absolutely too young to watch but love regardless.

Now, my favourite characters were always women, whether it be Drusilla, Willow or Faith, and it wasn't until I was older that I realised why I loved them so much. With the exception of Willow starting out (and eventually ending) as a heroic character, all of these women are the 'baddies' and, most importantly, are hella queer.

When I was in college, I watched The Celluloid Closet (1995), a documentary that explores queer-coding and the negative portrayals of homosexuality in cinema. It was during this film that I realised why I loved those Buffy characters so much: I was a queer person, and I didn't just subconsciously fancy these hot, sadistic girls, I related to them.

The 'Sissy' Villain

 

Basil, The Great Mouse Detective (1986)

So, what is a queer-coded villain? Also known as the 'sissy' trope, this is a stylisation of an antagonist, known for their blatant flamboyance, boldness and implied femininity.

Pick any of your favourite Disney films and look at the villain: what traits do they have? Hades from Hercules (1997), the towering epitome of sass, seen with a cocktail in hand and a penchant for reading (insulting people, for those of you not up to date with your gay lingo). Ratigan from Basil, The Great Mouse Detective (1986), adorned in feminine jewelry, a complete fucking drama queen and utterly loquacious. Ursula from The Little Mermaid (1989) is literally modelled on Divine, an infamous drag queen from John Waters' filmography, known for being explicitly sexual, filthy and glamorous. 

These characters exude either extroverted campness or sexual ambiguity (a good example of this might be HIM from The Powerpuff Girls, a seemingly transvestite-esque demon), they love performing soliloquies for dramatic effect, they're often feminine in appearance or cadence and they're not the heroes, despite how likeable they might come across.

Why do we like them?

TRON: Legacy (2010)

If they're meant to be these evil oppositions to our heroes, then why do we favour them so much more? Well, queer-coded villains are liberating, not just for young, gay kids but for everyone: queer antagonists are empowered because, despite the fact that they're fighting against what the hero (and us as an audience) consider to be morally right, they go about their journey with such an undeniable strength and confidence. They have a goal and they're going to reach it in style.

I think, at least for me, one of the biggest factors is character design. The queer-coded villain is often feminised, incidentally meaning that their costumes are far more detailed, make use of bold colours and play off the idea of sensuality (within reason): this appeals to baby gays and lesbians with a desire to be seen and can live their lives through these characters, which reflect the kind of openly queerness that they perhaps are unable to explore themselves. As The Celluloid Closet suggests, "visibility at any costs: I'd rather have negative than nothing". 

Is this a bad archetype?

The Lion King (1994)

So, are these fabulous yet demonised characters a problem? I think there may be arguments for and against.

On one hand, yes, the sissy villain trope is incredibly problematic. They may be empowering characters but they do reinforce (at least by association) the idea of homosexuality and the concept of immorality as being synonymous. 

For children growing up in both a more liberal yet increasingly problematic world, influence is everything, and no child should grow up seeing themselves demonised on screen for something innately unchangeable: for me, I grew up watching Willow on BtVS and I saw myself, a red-headed woman who discovers that she's a lesbian, and spends time exploring her sexuality in a way that isn't eroticised but completely normalised and validated by other characters. 

Dark Willow was a cool character but it was motivated by another problematic trope, "bury your gays", in which Willow's female love interest is murdered and serves as Willow's change into Dark Willow, a descent into evil and insanity. I felt somewhat let down by the writing, even as a young child: I didn't understand why her character specifically had to be evil.

Skyfall (2012)

And yet, if queer heroes were as equally visible as their evil counterparts, then perhaps it wouldn't be such an issue. It's when sexuality is confined to the opposing role and seen as a perversion in comparison to the clean-cut, hetero protagonist that most people take issue with, or that sexuality is the only thing that defines said character, making them one-dimensional and motivated only by who they want to bone.

I like queer-coded villains. I like all villains in general, that's just my preference: that's why I like horror films, I root for the bad guy and, in retrospect, plenty of iconic horror villains are queer-coded. If you look at Dracula or Hannibal Lecter, they both exude a dramatic flair, a subtle sensuality and poignancy to how they present themselves: even Freddy Krueger, in some respects, is queer-coded in how flamboyantly violent and camp he is.

What's great about contemporary queer-coding, though, is that although it's problematic (in that it still happens), the reception of such is very different. The LGBTQ+ community is renowned for its reclamation of previously derogatory terms and labels, giving new life to stereotypes and hurtful language in a way that empowers the individual and doesn't degrade them: when a queer-coded villain is presented on screen nowadays, it falls under scrutiny but is inevitably adopted into queer culture. Even the Babadook, an antagonist that is not queer-coded in any sense of the word, is now an iconic horror villain to the gays because of an amusing meme wherein The Babadook (2014) is categorised under LGBT films on Netflix. 

Sashay or Shantay? 

Mandy (2018)

The answer as to whether or not queer villains should still be created, I believe, is yes: as long as they are compelling, layered characters. Weaponised homosexuality only makes sense if homosexuality as a whole is considered normalised/established within that film's fictional world, flamboyant bad guys only make sense if the hero is equally flamboyant or at least indifferent to the bad guy's style.

In essence, queer-coding doesn't have to be a negative thing. It can be a reclamation, a celebration, if you will, of what makes the LGBTQ+ community so strong and fabulous...just maybe leave writing gay characters down to the allies/gays, though, and not ham-headed, straight men who just see homosexual villains as the torch bearers for their own, personal prejudice.

- K