70 Best Queer Movies to Watch

At the first few moments, Song Lang seemed to be something akin to Farewell My Concubine– the film takes a snapshot of a communist Asian country in a different time, through the lens of a regional opera form with painted faces, elaborate costumes, and captivating tunes. But there’s more to Song Lang than this. Tragedy isn’t prophesized through songs of an already existing opera (in fact, the film features all new tunes), but instead, it occurs because Dung, the loan shark, didn’t reflect on the past early enough for him to reclaim the art form his family once loved, a concern shared with cải lương as a declining genre. Song Lang is a moving drama, but it’s also a nostalgic time capsule of 1980s Saigon and cải lương as a whole.

The idea of representation in movies is often limited to superficial gestures of putting on screen people who look a certain way. Kokomo City is a reminder of cinema’s possibilities when one really tries to queer filmmaking itself, with genuine queer voices driving a production. This documentary is messy and incredibly playful in its style—in ways that might read to some as lacking cohesiveness, or as tonally inconsistent. But the way director D. Smith is able to capture the dynamic energy of a series of conversations makes these powerful, funny, tragic anecdotes and dialogues feel truly grounded in people’s everyday experiences, and makes the plea for protection of trans lives all the more urgent.

Throughout Kokomo City, this collection of individuals goes off on various tangents that never become difficult to follow. They speak about the nature of sex work, hidden desires felt by traditionally masculine male clients, and various degrees of acceptance within the Black community. And between these statements alternating from impassioned to emotional to humorously candid, Smith injects cheeky cutaway footage, layers text on screen, and plays an eclectic rotation of music throughout. It’s about as real and as three-dimensional as these trans lives have ever been shown on screen.

After years of documentaries covering Thailand’s controversial issues, some of which have been temporarily banned by the Ministry of Culture, Nontawat Numbenchapol takes a step into feature film in Doi Boy. The plot covers plenty of the topics he’s previously depicted– immigration, prostitution, and corruption– but it unfolds naturally into a slow-paced, but moving drama where an undocumented sex worker tries to find home. Awat Ratanapintha as Sorn excellently leads this journey, but Arak Amornsupasiri as reluctant cop Ji, and Bhumibhat Thavornsiri as passionate activist Wuth also make their mark. While the film doesn’t delve into the intricate intersectionality, it feels like that’s part of the point. The notion of a nation doesn’t care about people’s dreams, even if that dream is for the nation to be better.

Only a few people in Dita’s house are related by blood, but you wouldn’t know that by how they move. They’re tight-knit but argumentative, loving at times but spiteful in other instances. In other words, they’re complicated just like any other family. Housekeeping for Beginners makes a compelling case for the validity—and at times necessity—of found families like Dita’s, who all found each other after being shunned by their race and sexuality. As in his previous works, Director Goran Stolevski paints a realistic and relevant portrait here, one tinted with striking pain and poignancy, bound to leave your heart aching long after the credits roll.

For a film made in the mid-90s, by a straight white man in his early 20s, Chasing Amy is startingly smart and sensitive, filled with more relatable moments than anyone would care to admit. Sure, by today’s standards, its exploration of sexuality is questionable at best and cringe-worthy at worst, but it’s also an honest depiction of how an era (and some people still) confront this reality. And for all the important issues it tries to address, like homophobia, racism, and toxic masculinity, it’s also at its core a confectionary romcom. If When Harry Met Sally asks, “Can women and men be friends?”, then Chasing Amy complicates it with a question of its own: “Can a lesbian and a guy who falls in love too quickly be friends?” You may or may not arrive at an answer by the film’s end, but you’ll find much to like in its earnestness and thoughtfulness.

Cheerfully outrageous yet heartwarmingly tender, the Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert was ahead of its time, daring to dive into drag and transexuality, when the rest of the world was still coming around to accepting homosexuality. On the bus which the title is named after, two drag queens and a trans woman have a road trip, that does have some difficult moments, when they drive through intolerant towns, but overall, becomes quite lovely, as the three forge a bond through drag, witty, sarcastic quips and sharing vulnerable moments. While all three leads are portrayed by cis men, and the role of Bob’s Filipino wife feels slightly stereotypical, overall, The Adventures of Priscilla is a grand ol’ time, a joyful film about finding family in a world where tolerance wasn’t a guarantee.

There’s a cyclical tragedy at the heart of Bad Education, that starts with love, then continues in separation, and ends with hoping to redeem one’s self, and it would have felt repetitive if it wasn’t for the metafictional framing of Pedro Almodóvar. It boldly tackles the sexual abuse occurring in Catholic boarding schools, from which Almodóvar was educated under. It also explores it through a series of brilliant twists, as each reveal essentially repeats again and again, with each remix increasing the stakes, weaving a new layer to the love triangle, and exacerbating the consequences. Bad Education blends Enrique’s, and perhaps Almodóvar’s, life with fiction, with the brilliance and style Almodóvar is best known for.

On paper, Crossing’s premise reads like a movie about two different people forging an unlikely but sweet bond. Lia is a no-nonsense grandma, after all, and Achi looks like he lives day-to-day, not really caring what the future brings. And it’s true, at first their stark differences provide amusing moments, but the pair quickly subvert expectations. Lia is almost unrelentingly distant (“Let’s be clear,” she warns Achi, “I’m not here to take care of you.”) while Achi proves to be surprisingly sweet. Then there’s Evrim (Deniz Dumanli), a local trans lawyer advocating for the marginalized. Through her and her friends, Lia grows to understand her missing trans niece, the reason she came to Turkey in the first place. There’s a meandering vibe to Crossing that fits into these three characters yearning for connections. But though it can get lost in those paths, the movie feels coherent and kind, like a comfort drama if there ever was one. All the while, Istanbul—both its fringes and its colorful center—serves as a ruggedly beautiful, kaleidoscopic backdrop.

Sometimes, all you need to make a good movie is to get two vastly different characters and force them to stay together. It’s probably why Kiss of the Spider Woman was made in the first place– the novel dumps hardened, self-sacrificial activist Valentin and flamboyant gay man Molina in a jail cell. But rather than depict Molina and Valentin just talking, the film visually recreates the stories they tell to each other as films-within-a-film. Molina’s fictional love stories are given all the glamor and drama of classic 60s romances, and Valentin’s life story depicted with a straightforward, gritty realism that matches the hard experiences he had. So as they tell their stories and challenge each other with their respective approaches to life, director Héctor Babenco ensures that as the two finally feel heard by each other, the audience, too, can easily empathize with the perspectives they take. It also ensures that the plot twist holds a strong punch. Though its escapist approach may suggest otherwise, Kiss of the Spider Woman realistically explores the way storytelling has always meant freedom.

As one of the few animated Filipino films ever made, there’s a question as to why The Missing should use the animation in the first place. The animation here is much more rough than the ones from other countries, and while it’s a bit more pricey, the filmmakers could have filmed this in live action with practical SFX and CGI. But there’s a big reason why it was animated anyway– It’s because of the story. It’s not just because the protagonist Eric is an animator– it’s because animation, to that specific lead, was the way through which he was able to form a life after trauma, becoming the livelihood that allowed him to move out of his childhood home, and far far away from the trauma he faced. Writer-director Carl Joseph Papa also takes advantage of the medium by creating designs that match Eric’s current state of mind– regular, day-to-day life is rotoscoped, while the blank portions of his memory are traditionally drawn in the style Eric would have had during that age. It’s an unusual approach, but whether or not the story was adjusted to the budget, Iti Mapukpukaw is undeniably a touching and inventive drama that depicts the complexities of grief.