10 queer films to watch during pride month
Queer stories have always existed, blossoming on screen in a myriad of obvious and unspoken ways. While the experiences of queer people have often been neglected from cinema, they have always found a way to be expressed on screen, whether it be through implicit or explicit stories.
From the allegorical undertones to The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner to the devastating vulnerability of Fox and his Friends, depictions of queerness have evolved in a myriad of ways over the years, going from being a discreet underground subculture to being celebrated in the most unabashed and explosive ways by the likes of Gregg Araki and Luca Guadagnino.
Whether it be the breathtaking sensitivity of Moonlight or pure ridiculousness of Bottoms, queer stories have never been more present in mainstream cinema, with people waking up to the transformative power of seeing yourself reflected on screen and how this bleeds into all areas of our lives, allowing people who have existed on the fringes of society to feel empowered in being themselves.
Without further ado, here are ten queer films you can add to your list during Pride month, including both beloved classics and hidden gems that deserve more attention.
10 queer films to watch during pride month:
<br>Je Tu Il Elle (Chantal Akerman, 1974)
At the age of just 24 years old, Chantal Akerman made history through one of the most radical sex scenes of all time, a moment made even more bold through the fact that she starred in it herself. While it still very much fits within the veins of slow cinema, Je Tu Il Elle has a more animalistic and flexible quality compared to Jeanne Dielman, with the director creating a loose portrait of a woman in the aftermath of a painful breakup as she finds her way back to the woman she loves.
After attempting to numb her grief through an impromptu hookup with a truck driver, Akerman’s character eventually retreats to the comfort of true connection and intimacy, resulting in a climactic and completely feral scene as she rolls around in bed with her ex-girlfriend, with the pair almost appearing to be fighting as they tussle and hum in each other’s arms. It’s the monolith of lesbian cinema, and a film that playfully explores the discombobulation of heartbreak and pursuit of pure companionship.
<br>Queer (Luca Guadagnino, 2024)
Something in the universe shifted when Guadagnino described Queer as not being about unreciprocated love but unsynchronised love, articulating the unique loneliness that comes from being queer in a place where your identity has to be discreet, secretly yearning for an intimacy that cannot be fulfilled.
Guadagnino explores queerness as an out-of-body experience that slowly twists you into a disembodied state, creating a haunting odyssey of delusion and dehumanisation as Daniel Craig’s character pines after a simple human experience that slowly slips from his grasp entirely, leaving you feeling as fragmented and broken as he does.
Maurice (James Ivory, 1987)
“I am an unspeakable of the Oscar Wilde sort” is perhaps the most hilarious yet heartbreaking way of coming out I have ever seen on screen. It’s impossible to discuss formative queer cinema without mentioning James Ivory, with a lush, delicate and passionate style that sweeps over you and immerses you in the illicit affairs of a restrained era.
Maurice follows a man coming to terms with his sexuality during the early 1900s, capturing the restrictive values of Edwardian society and what it does to you to repress your heart’s desires. While Clive is able to embrace his true self, Maurice isn’t able to do so, leading him to remain trapped in a secret interior world while his former lover moves on and has the life he cannot even allow himself to dream of.
The Watermelon Woman (Cheryl Dunye, 1996)
Cheryl Dunye was working leagues ahead of her time when she created her daring directorial debut, The Watermelon Woman. The story follows a Black lesbian filmmaker who becomes fascinated by an uncredited actor who played the mammy archetype in many old movies, dedicating herself to the mission of uncovering her true identity.
Alongside her quest to unearth hidden Black history, Cheryl also finds herself head-over-heels for a woman she meets in the video store where she works, exploring the intersection between love and identity as both merge together through the creation of her documentary on the watermelon woman. It is both hilarious, incisive and profound in its exploration of intersectional lesbianism and the weight of unknown stories within Black history, with Cheryl forging her own path and space within cinema while doing so.
I Saw The TV Glow (Jane Schoenbrun, 2024)
I Saw The TV Glow remains as one of the most transcendental cinema experiences I’ve ever had, with Jane Schoenbrun creating a Lynchian world that captures the permanent limbo state of not expressing your true self and the soul-crushing process of queer assimilation.
The film follows Owen, a teenager whose obsession with a TV show called The Pink Opaque begins to create cracks between his waking world and the one on screen, highlighting this feeling of becoming a ghost in your own life as your true self fades away entirely, clinging to your fantasies as a means of survival and observing your life as though through a screen. It’s an urgent wake-up call to the damage caused by anti-trans rhetoric, while also conveying a hopeful message that there is still time to discover who you are.
National Anthem (Luke Gilford, 2023)
National Anthem is a warm and gentle film about what it means to find your people, following a construction worker who finds community within a queer rodeo in the Wild West. There’s a feeling of reverence and care that seeps into every frame, with Gilford creating a queer utopia through morphing a traditionally oppressive landscape into something fluid and freeing, with all the characters being liberated through the strength of friendship and community.
It comes across as an almost otherworldly place, with Dylan flourishing in the company of people who truly see him and allow him to feel cared for. Gilford highlights the transformative power of kindness and chosen family, and how it is never too late to discover who you are and find your people.
Blue Gate Crossing (Yee Chih-yen, 2002)
Blue Gate Crossing is a sweet, complex and nostalgic coming-of-age story about a girl called Yueh-chen who struggles to come out to her friend, a situation made only more complex by the fact that she has a crush on her.
It captures the typical growing pains of adolescence and unrequited love, doing so through the lens of a young woman who inwardly grapples with coming out and the impact this will have on her friendships. While many films mock or belittle the experiences we have as young people, Blue Gate Crossing is tender and gracious in the space it allows for the characters to explore themselves, with self-discovery being painted as a frustrating yet deeply rewarding process that brings you closer to your friends and to yourself.
Weekend (Andrew Haigh, 2011)
Weekend was truly ahead of its time in its portrayal of intimacy between men, following the aftermath of a drunken one-night stand that slowly evolves into something more meaningful. Haigh has a beautifully slow and introspective style that allows for the central relationship to unravel organically, capturing that wonderful moment in time as the world seemingly stops after meeting someone new.
Glen and Russel spend a weekend in each other’s company, just talking, sharing their feelings on everything from marriage, gay culture and Notting Hill. It’s incredibly grounded and authentic, with Haigh creating a portrait of a brief encounter and the ways we can find intimacy in the most unexpected people.
Sunday Bloody Sunday (John Schlesinger, 1971)
Given that it was released in 1971, Sunday Bloody Sunday was groundbreaking in its exploration of non-monogamy, a subject that was completely taboo at the time and rarely depicted on screen. Schlesinger follows the relationship between a woman named Alex and a doctor named Daniel, who are both in a relationship with a younger man named Bob.
By carefully entangling their experiences and showing their lives outside of their relationship, the director creates a layered story about intimacy, vulnerability and the constraints of traditional relationships. Each character becomes aware of the flaws within a system that doesn’t suit their needs, yet struggles to detach from a deeply ingrained system that shames them for wanting something different. It’s soft and sensitive in its depiction of polyamory and people who are looking for a way to feel seen, in spite of the disapproval from the world around them.
Carol (Todd Haynes, 2015)
And lastly, it wouldn’t be right to not finish this list with one of my all-time favourites. Directed by the one and only Todd Haynes, Carol is an achingly beautiful love story between two women in 1950s New York, set against a cold world that tries to extinguish their connection.
Every single look and touch between them communicates a thousand words, with Haynes morphing every moment of silence into one of unspoken yearning and love. Every gaze or accidental touch immerses you in this dream-like space that exists between them, with the joint power of the gorgeous piano motif and the moody visual style casting a mesmerising spell that brings you into the warmth of this relationship and all-encompassing, pure love.
