70 Best Queer Movies to Watch

Set in one of Morocco’s oldest medinas, Blue Caftan is a tender portrayal of pure love and the different forms it takes. It follows traditional tailor Halim (Saleh Bakri) and his wife Mina (Lubna Azabal) who, despite their imperfect marriage, prove their affection in small but moving ways. He peels tangerines for her and washes her hair, she preps his meals and defends his craft from demanding customers. When a third person, Youssef (Ayoub Missioui), enters the picture, even more manifestations of passion (and the lack and longing and excess of it) emerge. 

It’s a dramatic film, but never overly so. Like the silky fabric Halim handles with expert care, it’s rich but soft, detailed but delicate. In the face of poverty, sickness, and discrimination, the film mines moments of joy, friendship, and pleasure, subverting the expectation that tragic circumstances must mean tragic outcomes. 

Blue Caftan, even in its saddest moments—and there are plenty—is a film full of love, made even more memorable by the deft performances and palpable chemistry of its three leads.

Part documentary yet part surreal daydream, director Derek Jarman’s final film is one last rallying cry into a blue void. Against an unchanging screen of International Klein Blue, most of the film is Jarman’s voice, drifting through various subjects, from day-to-day complications of AIDS to contemplations about the color blue. Some of his frequent collaborators chime in. Choirs singing about damnation occasionally pop up too. While essentially a radio drama, the combination of voices, foley, and scores all merge together into an ethereal, haunting soundscape, that sticks in your head long after the film ends. Mirroring his partial blindness, Jarman’s last experiment leaves an impression of his own experience. It’s absolutely devastating.

Before gay marriage and gay adoption was legalized in America, people had plenty of hurdles to jump over when their same sex partner died. Partners weren’t guaranteed visits to their loved one, weren’t permitted to visit them at their last hours. They were the last to be informed and the last to be asked about their medical records, even though they would be the best source of knowledge after living together. Same sex parents weren’t guaranteed custody of their partner’s children. In The Family may depict these previous experiences in a dry, straightforward way for nearly three hours, but it’s a needed, respectful approach, with the lived-in knowledge of the quiet cruelties that was enforced just a decade ago.

When Brian was eight years old he lost five hours of his life to a black out. Now ten years later he is searching for the truth. His search leads him to Neil, a boy who was on his little league team the summer of the blackout. Brian has always believed he was abducted by aliens from the dreams he had with Neil in them. Neil however knows the truth. Neil had just left the small town life and moved to New York. When he comes home for Christmas and meets Brian will he finally tell him the answers he has been looking for? This is the story of one boy who can’t remember and a boy who can’t forget.

This drama was the first feature written and directed by an out Black lesbian, Cheryl Dunye, and it is an absolute joy: a cheeky faux-documentary that ingeniously blends lesbian dating life with a historical dive into Black actors in 30s Hollywood.

Dunye plays Cheryl, a self-effacing version of herself, an aspiring director working at a video store who begins to research an actress known as the Watermelon Woman for a documentary. The more Cheryl dives into her research, the more she sees parallels between her subject and her own relationship. 

As incisive as it is funny, The Watermelon Woman shares some common ground with other major indie debuts of the era like Spike Lee’s She’s Gotta Have It and funnily enough Kevin Smith’s Clerks, but Dunye’s style is wholly her own and a dazzling treat to experience.

Often considered Claire Denis’ best film, Beau Travail is an epic exploration of both masculinity and colonialism. Inspired by Melville’s Billy Budd, she transplants the story to Djibouti where the French Foreign Legion run seemingly aimless drills in an arid desert landscape while largely alienated from the local community.

Denis inverts the male gaze and imbues charged eroticism to the bodies in motion as the men train and wrestle. Accompanied by the music of Britten’s Billy Budd opera, these movements transform into a breathtaking modern dance. Underneath her jaw-dropping direction is a cutting allegory on repression, desire, and violence, working on both the individual and geopolitical level. This incredible tale is capped off by one of the best end credit sequences of all time.

You’ll recognize more than a few faces in Uncle Frank. There are no mega-stars but the caliber of acting in this 70s story is truly impressive.

Beth is an 18-year-old in rural South Carolina who grew up admiring the family member she could relate to the most: her uncle, a college professor living in New York.

When she finishes high-school, she makes the move to the city her beloved uncle told her so much about. Once there, she discovers that he has been living a double life which he kept a secret from the family.

This is the perfect holiday movie for those looking for a story that’s not about the actual holidays. It’s sweet, often funny, and packs a heartfelt and genuine story without being too predictable.

Even when it necessarily tackles the difficulties that are part and parcel of same-sex love in the 20th century, there’s something pleasant about the way A Secret Love is told. The documentary puts Terry and Pat’s love above all else, so even though we hear about how they had to tear the bottom pages of their letters to avoid getting caught, or how they had to split from close family members after coming out, things never feel too heavy or dire because at the end of the day, they’re still together, their decades-old companionship a beautiful example of how love wins. And aside from giving us an intimate look at this rare win for elderly closeted couples, A Secret Love serves as an insightful portrait of elderly life. Terry and Pat, with their perseverance and unyielding support, make aging look beautiful rather than scary. 

While many homophobic people like to think otherwise, there have been gay people all throughout history, some that have survived war and pandemics and persecution and even became widely renowned. Gods and Monsters is a more speculative than accurate biopic about Hollywood director James Whale, who was actually out during his career. That being said, it’s astounding how writer-director Bill Condon and lead Ian McKellen created such a bittersweet examination of the Lost Generation, not just of the loves that were lost but of the lives that could not be lived, the longing that could not be actualized. And the film takes a risky, but nuanced subversion in the way it examines the Hollywood system, subverting the roles Whale and Boone have placed on others and on themselves. It’s a daring portrayal of both homosexuality and of the film industry, one that’s emotionally poignant and ahead of its time.

Will and Harper’s premise is simple: two friends journey from one end of the States to another and, amid pit stops and bar hops, sunsets and beers, they talk about life, from its biggest concepts down to its tiniest details. The only difference in this case is that Will and Harper are navigating their friendship as well as the roads; since Harper has only recently transitioned (formerly, she was the comedy screenwriter Andrew Steele), she and Will feel the need to settle more than a few questions. When did this all start? What kept Harper from coming out? Will the friendship still be the same? Does Harper still like bad beer? Will, for his part, is earnest and curious, and though he fumbles along the way—at one point, he inadvertently exposes Harper to a transphobic crowd—he’s quick to recognize his mistakes, learn from them, and recenter our attention to Harper, who is the real star of this film. We learn about her childhood and how she grappled with identity throughout her life. We even visit her home in Iowa and get to know her family. The film keeps it light by smartly relying on their naturally funny tandem and the beautiful American country backdrop. It’s been said that to know the real American pulse, you’d have to go to the Midwest, and that’s exactly what they do. It’s not always pretty, but there are bubbles of joy there that present hope not just to Harper but to the many transpeople out there waiting to know if it’s finally time to head out (it is).