Model Queerness: Intersectionality Within the Representation of Mainstream Queer Film Post-Obergefell v. Hodges

 

Mackenzie Smith

Cinema and Television Arts, Elon University

Submitted in partial fulfillment of the requirements in an undergraduate senior capstone course in communications

Abstract

Queer themes in film have a history of representing the political climate at the time, often with hyper-visible stereotyping, inferiority, silencing, demonizing, or even comedic relief. Characters were portrayed to be sympathetic and identifying with dominant heterosexual ideology. Often, characters were also limited to specific identities: outside of white main characters, white-washing characters who were based on real non-white people also occurred. In a changing political climate, this study investigated five films released post-Obergefell v. Hodges to identify how the representation and intersectionality of queer characters has changed in Hollywood. A qualitative content analysis was conducted by randomly selecting films from the top 20% highest-grossing queer films and analyzing for themes within four main categories: (1) portrayals of identity, (2) authentic casting, (3) visibility, and (4) social interaction. Findings suggest that there is an increasing social awareness of intersectionality, yet many of the discussions around it were not fully formed. While there was also an increase in the amount of diversity, themes of wealth and whiteness were still in majority. Half of the queer cast were played by openly queer actors, but the only queer identities represented were gay, lesbian, and bisexual. Results also suggest that the roles queer characters were given, while more prominent, still often landed as either villains or victims — either demonized or sympathized. The study found that films have a “model queerness”: the type of acceptable queer portrayal to audiences.

Keywords: Queer film, LGBT, intersectionality, identity, representation
Email: msmith173@elon.edu

I. Introduction

On June 26, 2015, Obergefell v. Hodges resulted in the Supreme Court striking down all bans on same-sex marriage, legalizing it nationwide. In nearly a decade since, hundreds of films involving queer characters have been released to the public, with many filmmakers striving to create more authentic representations.

While an improvement, mainstream films dealing with queer storylines have generated both excitement and worry. When announcements for Brokeback Mountain (2005) started in 2002, rumors spread that the gay story was being downplayed, or that the actors had no chemistry (Rich, 2007). This comes from a long history of sub-par representation, with identities silenced to be “just like” straight people — not anti-discriminatory, but narratively quieting their queerness — or made into extreme stereotypes, whether that be hyper-visible, inferior, a villain, or even comedic relief. Characters have had queerness be their only significance: a way to be “in the times” without anything else of substance (Dean, 2007). This is mostly from the 1900s to the 2000s, and film and the public landscape have shifted immensely. Yet, film still runs into the same problems from Hollywood tropes regulating gender and sexual expression (Mayora, 2018).

In mainstream queer film, audiences may have the impression of whiteness with films like Call Me by Your Name (2017) or Carol (2015). Or they may turn to Moonlight (2016) or Love Lies Bleeding (2024), films that have person of color (POC) queer main characters. This study will examine the mainstream films that have been released since Obergefell v. Hodges, because of its prominence as an event that “normalized” queerness, to determine trends in identities within the representation of queer narratives in Hollywood in the past decade and to see if these tropes still occur and regulate identities. This aims to find if there is a “model queerness” for characters — if there is a type of queer person most acceptable to audiences.

II. Literature Review

Previous scholarly research has explored how queer characters have been represented in films. Within representation, there is a tendency for films to adhere to dominant ideologies and pressures. Queer narratives are often viewed as a stigma in film, becoming a “liability” for companies aiming to appeal to mass audiences. Scholars have also found queer characters to be portrayed as either white-washed or sympathetic to the audience, if not both at the same time.

What is a Queer Film?

Historically, queer characters in mainstream film have been restricted to side roles, often portrayed as more stereotype than person. If not hyper-visible typecasting, they have been innuendos or invisible in media as early as silent films and talkies in the 1900s. When queerness first came to the screens, it was a danger: a representation of society’s fears of changing ideology around gender roles. While they could be expressed as the villain, they were often represented in comedic fashion, with mistaken identities and “transvestite” humor (Russo, 1987).

This sort of queer representation was very visible, but there were many representations that had queerness and refused to say it. In Ben-Hur (1959), there is a scene where his friend, Messala, pleads to him to aid the Romans. Screenwriter Gore Vidal decided it was not enough to have only one motivation for the argument, instead proposing that they were young lovers, with Messala hoping to rekindle something that Ben-Hur does not. This was not actually stated in the scene: it was left in the subtext. Stephen Boyd, who played Messala, agreed to this, and if you pay attention to his reactions in the scene, “he plays it like a man starving” (Russo, 1987, p. 58).

They also could not say it. It was not until October 3rd, 1961, that the Motion Picture Association of America approved of tasteful treatment of queerness in films — later clarifying that it could be suggested, but not spelled out. Films could use innuendos and slurs, but not “homosexual.” “Tasteful” representations were also debatable. In The Fox (1968), Ellen has a “will she, won’t she” between choosing normalcy with Paul or a lesbian obsession with Jill. In the end, she chooses Paul; Jill’s fate is for a tree to fall between her legs, killing her. The tasteful solution for lesbianism in the film is for one to be killed, and the other to be cured (Russo, 1987).

By the 1990s there was a shift in queer representation. They were appearing more, often presented as the “normal gay.” Yet, they were still expected to be gender-conforming, follow conventional family values, categorize sex with marriage-like relationships, represent economic individualism, and show national pride (Dean, 2007). This was more representation like the past, with standard “heterosexual roleplaying” (Russo, 1987, p. 116). Queerness was not equal, but something that must adhere to norms of cisgender-heterosexual (cis-het) society. Hollywood’s landscape fostered gay directors to make anti-gay films to keep a job, and Joan Rivers to ask gay actors about their girlfriends with “fag” jokes. Instead of moving forward, Hollywood “[was] too busy trying to make old formulas hit the jackpot again to see the future” (Russo, 1987, p. 220).

Stigmatization and the Public Reaction of Queer Films

Similarly, the industry has made a distinction between “queer” and “quality.” LGBT films of Indiewood — films marketed as arthouse alternatives, despite being distributed by major distribution companies — differentiate between this by marketing explicitly queer films to mass audiences with “quality” features, such as an acclaimed literary figure, to downplay queer content (Richards, 2016). Marketing may also present what seems like a completely different film, presenting a heteronormative narrative — the “de-gaying” that A Single Man (2009) went through in trailers and posters. Focus Features refused to let The Kids Are All Right (2010) play at LGBT film festivals for fear of the film being “ghettoized” as a gay film. For a long time, films with queer narratives were put into a category called “special interest,” the same one for exercise or hunting videos, because it was believed to be too small to have enough consumers to be considered a real genre (Wuest, 2018). If a company believes being labeled as a “gay film” will decrease profit, it will try to keep it from being labeled as a “gay film.” (Richards, 2016).

This does not remove the queer content within the film, though. In the case of Brokeback Mountain, while gay press was worried about a lack of queerness, mainstream press felt differently. The amount of media attention mirrored a “heterosexual panic” as worries turned to whether it was too gay, and many discussions included comedic relief toward anxieties around the film, with jokes centered around male reluctance to see it (Rich, 2007). Dave White wrote an advice column where he guided straight men on seeing the film, even cheekily writing, “Imagine how many thousands of hetero love stories gay people sit through in their lives. So you kind of owe us. Now get out there and watch those cowboys make out” (White, 2005).

While many jokes harbored genuine discomfort with queerness, the film also gained large support. Mainstream critics gave overwhelmingly positive reviews, and when it failed to win the Academy Award, fans purchased a full-page ad in Variety. There was even a dedicated “Ultimate Brokeback Forum” (Rich, 2007). At the time of writing, it had 256,271 posts with exponential comments. Multiple posts had been made on a recent day, with 55 online users, nearly 20 years after its release (Simple Machines, 2021). However, its success came as an “event” film. This questioned if it was simply the kind of LGBT film that the marketplace could support (Rich, 2007).

White-washing and Sympathizing

Stonewall (2015) fell into controversy when real queer people appeared to be white-washed and sanitized. The film is directed by a white, cisgender, gay man, and told from the perspective of the same. Puerto Rican and Venezuelan transgender activist Sylvia Rivera, a prominent figure in the riots, was replaced by Ray/Ramona. When the official trailer was released, most criticism was due to this. Major figures like Sylvia Rivera and Marsha P. Johnson, as well as other prominent trans women of color, were either missing or side characters. It was a box office flop: despite a $17 million budget, it grossed little over $187,000. In response, Roland Emmerich, the film’s director, stated that “Stonewall was a white event,” and that “nobody wanted to hear that anymore” (Mayora, 2018, p. 453). This was not only another case of white gay directors appropriating trans POC stories, but categorizing POC involved with Stonewall as white, and then proceeding to blame them for the film’s box office failure (Mayora, 2018). This brings into question who is being represented and who is tasked with representation. Queer cinema does not have the resources for trans filmmakers of color to create and release films representing the complexity of trans history. Instead, stories have been picked up by privileged directors, which, even with good intentions, can result in more “digestible” characters (Mayora, 2018).

Aside from white-washing, one of the prominent ways Sylvia Rivera was made more palatable was by making her sympathetic. Carol (2015) is another example of this, in aligning with a melodramatic masochistic fantasy. In Leopold von Sacher-Masoch’s writings, whom the term masochism was coined after, he describes that “the sadist is in need of institutions, the masochist of contractual relations” (Brunton, 2020, para. 4). Carol and Therese’s relationship serves to oppose institutions, as they are threatened to be torn apart by laws that do not support their relationship. The film is also reminiscent of film noirs, pulling similar aesthetics and symbols that point toward a hatred and questioning of institutions.

It also uses melodramatic masochism, with Carol presented as a “self-punishing maternal martyr” to gain sympathy from the institutions that threaten her and Therese (Brunton, 2020, para. 4). She has to choose between her daughter and Therese while loving both. The aesthetics of film noirs present lesbianism as criminal and secret, heightening the stakes and appeal of their desire; melodramatic aspects of the film take away her commanding character and make her appear defeated, desperate for custody of her daughter. The “tragic mother” and “phallic woman” contradict, her authoritative desire pushing against the system, and the sympathetic mother denying the acceptance of identities outside of what the law protects (Brunton, 2020).

This representation sheds light on American understandings of how law, morality, and queer identity relate in a post-gay marriage movement. Petitioners for Obergefell v. Hodges that were visible in the majority decision were constructed to be sympathetic — lesbian couples raising children; gay couples seeking state benefits after serving their country — presented in subservience to the state. In asking for their rights, they must “ultimately [uphold] the legitimacy of the institution founded on their exclusion” (Brunton, 2020, para. 28). Carol did not critique heterosexist or patriarchal logic that structures the law, shifting to reliance on the law. It highlights what could be at stake in aligning with melodramatic masochistic fantasy to understand queer experiences (Brunton, 2020).

Intersectionality

The theory of intersectionality was coined by Kimberlé Crenshaw to explain the “problematic consequence of the tendency to treat race and gender as mutually exclusive categories of experience and analysis” (Crenshaw, 1989, p. 139). This is a lens which understands that when people have multiple minority and/or discriminated identities, the experiences they face with these are neither separate nor added together, but instead, the impact of these multiple social dynamics combine into different types of harm and/or challenges they experience. This can be used to analyze how systems of oppression harm those with multiple identities of discrimination, but it also points to the occurrence of intersectional erasure: the supposed irrelevance of intersectional identities within contemporary conversations (Columbia Law School, 2017). This applies to film not only in including intersectional identities within these conversations but in recognizing how multiple identities affect characters’ experiences.

Framing Theory

Robert Entman, a prominent scholar of framing, describes it as, “selecting and highlighting some facets of events or issues, and making connections among them so as to promote a particular interpretation, evaluation, and/or solution” (Entman, 2009, p. 5). The way a character is portrayed — or framed through highlighting aspects of their character or actions — promotes different perspectives — or interpretations and evaluations. Whether intentional or not, frames applied to queer films impact public reaction and may go on to influence public perception in two varieties: cultural resonance and magnitude. Culturally resonant frames have a greater chance of influence, using ideas that are key to the culture, or “noticeable, understandable, memorable, and emotionally charged” (Entman, 2009, p. 6). Magnitude uses repetition and prominence, suggesting that the more a frame is repeated or the more powerful impact it has, the more likely it will influence the public (Entman, 2009).

Previous scholarly research has investigated case studies of queer representation in films, as well as public reaction to it, but not in the context of film as a whole — specifically post-Obergefell v. Hodges or in the last ten years. Studies also did not examine the types of identities. This research intends to fill the research gap by identifying patterns within the identities of queer characters in mainstream film to examine how it is that they are depicted on screen.

Research Questions

This study will answer the following questions for five queer films selected:

RQ1: Overall, how are the queer characters portrayed within the films?

RQ2: What common identities do queer characters share among the selected films?

RQ3: How significant are the queer characters to the plots as a whole?

RQ4: What common roles do queer characters share with the plot and other characters?

This research is important, as current scholarly research does not explore trends in the type of queer characters in current mainstream film. While gems in the rough can become box office hits, many films are meant to be mainstream due to the funding provided in development, distribution, and marketing. This research provides insight into the types of films with this platform: what these characters look like and how they are portrayed.

III. Methods

This research used qualitative content analysis to identify thematic components of queer films post-Obergefell v. Hodges. Qualitative content analysis begins with categories that the researcher seeks to learn more about, analyzing the material to capture meanings, themes, and descriptions through reading, sorting, and comparing materials. This places emphasis on discovery and description, rather than quantitative relationships between variables (Altheide, 1996, p. 43). They were analyzed under the lens of framing theory, considering how characters were framed to influence their representation, as well as the magnitude of similar frames. Films were reviewed several times to ensure accuracy.

There were four categories that the researcher assessed: (1) portrayals of different identities, (2) casting and if actors shared these identities, (3) visibility, or how often queer characters appeared and the significance of queerness, and (4) social interaction of the characters, or how they relate to other characters. These were used to determine overarching themes and frames. Notes were logged through Google Docs, with common themes transferred into Google Sheets for further categorization. This method is drawn from a previous study of the representation of transgender characters in U.S. scripted television dramas and comedies from 2008 to 2014. There were five categories: casting, visibility, identity, embodiment, and social interaction (Capuzza & Spencer, 2017). This was adjusted to account for films instead of episodes, as well as to broaden the research from trans characters to queer characters as a whole.

The researcher created a stable of films released after June 26, 2015, which were obtained and sorted using Box Office Mojo, IMdBPro, The Numbers, and Letterboxd. Films were collected under specific criteria: the film must (1) revolve around a queer character (side characters must have at least 50% of screen time), (2) present queerness as central to the plot — the story/character does not have to revolve around this, but it should be explicitly clear — (3) have a United States release, and (4) have a full theatrical release. The films were limited to U.S. releases, as this study aims to investigate the portrayals that enter mainstream Hollywood. Criteria also ensured films were queer — not happening to have a queer character in the background. The last criteria ensured that films were those most available to the public — limited theatrical releases release films in select theaters and digital content requires viewers to have subscriptions for films spread across platforms. Full theatrical releases both ensure a film is available anywhere in the country with a single payment and are also often coming out of Hollywood or considered mainstream. This sampling procedure was influenced by qualitative content analysis in two studies: a study of commercially successful 1990s slasher films, which aimed to determine the degree to which violence against women was featured, and a study of the highest-grossing romantic comedies and the types of messages presented to adolescent audiences. Both studies had in-depth criteria to narrow down the highest-grossing films into the specific types of films that made sense for their respective research (Johnson & Holmes, 2009; Sapolsky et al., 2003).

The researcher organized a stable of 76 films based on box office earnings. Films whose box office earnings were not available through either public information or IMdBPro were grouped at the bottom, as the more money a film makes, the more likely its earnings will be available. DVD sales were not taken into consideration. The top 20% highest-grossing films were categorized into different identities. This is based on an analysis of intersectionality in LGBT literary fiction, which recorded literature under the categories of a character’s sexuality and gender identity, as well as other distinctive identities (Moulaison et al., 2017). This was also adjusted to focus on the top 20%, as the study aims to analyze Hollywood’s highest-grossing, most well-known mainstream queer films.

The top 20% resulted in fifteen films. Out of these, eight identities were categorized as racial/ethnic groups, three as sexual orientations, and three as gender identities. Three featured lower-income characters, six featured higher-income characters, and six were unclear or “average.” One featured a disabled queer character, and one depicted Christianity. The researcher considered these to determine if films should be weighted in certain categories, but decided against this due to widespread identities. Five films were selected by assigning each film a number and running a random number generator five times. If a number was repeated, the generator ran again. The films attached to these five numbers were then selected for the qualitative content analysis.

IV. Results

When qualitative content analysis and framing theory were applied to examine five of the top 20% of queer films in Hollywood — The Favourite (2018), Knock at the Cabin (2023), Rough Night (2017), Saltburn (2023), and Everything Everywhere All at Once (2022) — six overarching themes were identified: wealth/high socioeconomic status, race and ethnicity, authentic casting, queer intimacy and sexuality, highly significant roles, and villains and victims.

Deliberate Discussion Toward Wealth/High Socioeconomic Status

One of the most obvious themes within all five of the films is a discussion around wealth and privilege. The Favourite, Knock at the Cabin, Rough Night, and Saltburn all represented middle-class to upper-class socioeconomic status. Knock at the Cabin and Rough Night were less obvious but present comfortably well-off characters that suggest at least middle-class. Everything Everywhere All at Once (EAAO) is the only film to diverge from this, with a lower-income family.

An assumption of wealth is often something a viewer can make early on through character design and location. In the case of The Favourite, the first image is of a 1700s queen taking off her robe and crown. This wealth follows the rest of the film, taking place in Queen Anne’s household with nobles in fine dress, wealthy men in white wigs and makeup, and fancy parties. In addition, rooms are littered with décor, walls scattered with paintings and tapestries.

Saltburn is similar, though in modern times. The first location is Oxford, focusing on wealthy students complaining during move-in. The main character, Oliver, struggles to fit in, is teased with sarcastic comments toward his clothes, refused a seat, and left out of parties. When Felix meets Oliver and learns about his troubled past, he invites him to stay the summer at Saltburn, his family’s estate. Here, Felix gives a tour of the house with a casual air about extremely expensive things, the mansion has its own hedge maze, and a birthday party features 200 guests.

Yet, this wealth was also represented as frivolous and associated with ignorance. In Saltburn, Felix’s mother, Elspeth, believes that they do not have rehab in Liverpool, suggesting that everyone there “goes to ruin.” When she learns Oliver had to make his mother sick so that she did not die in her sleep, she believes that that is “actually rather normal when you’re poor.” Felix’s father shows his wealth almost laughably, wearing a suit of armor to Oliver’s birthday party. In The Favourite, Anne’s first scene has her planning a palace for Sarah, her noble lover, despite an ongoing war. She acts like a child, in one scene even putting on gaudy, childish makeup. She is rewarded by being treated like one: she is asked, “Shall we go fast?” when in her wheelchair, and even told directly, “You’re such a child.” This makes her seem incredibly ignorant of her role as Queen — instead used by others as a political pawn.

On the other hand, Rough Night and Knock at the Cabin show comfortably wealthy characters, whether they are middle-class or upper-middle-class. Rough Night features a group of women who can go on a fancy, all-out bachelorette with drugs and a stripper. Knock at the Cabin features a gay couple, Eric and Andrew, who rent a nice cabin for a vacation and can afford to adopt a baby internationally from China. Even if not rich, many of the characters are comfortably well-off either way — money often does not feel like a factor to consider.

EEAAO was the exception. The story immediately focuses on the family’s financial situation, struggling with their taxes, their laundromat being audited, a lien on their property, and repossession at risk. Yet rather than use it as a plot point or make the characters wallow in their struggle, it is an aspect that makes their characters more complex, mirroring what struggling in America might look like rather than exploiting their situation for the benefit of audiences.

Interaction with Class Difference

Rough Night features Frankie and Blair, a Women Loving Women (WLW) couple by the end of the film, but their class differences are apparent from the start. They are a dichotomy of wealth: Blair arrives at an airport in a sleek outfit with a designer purse, complaining about flying business class; Frankie looks more casual, calling it gross that she is serious. Blair is a real estate agent and Frankie is an activist with two strikes on her record. It presents a stark difference and interesting discussion on class, but it is not fully formed. The film is a comedy, so most of this is played for jokes. Blair is meant to be overly classy with fashion on the top of her mind, while Frankie is often more “gross,” seen sniffing her armpit to see if she stinks, and is often represented as a mockery of protesters. Once they reach the wealthy house they are staying in, she says, “This house represents everything I hate. I’m gonna take a protest dump.” It’s clear how different the two are, but is so exaggerated that they do not feel like real people.

While The Favourite focuses on wealth, part of this plot is “rags to riches.” Abigail, who lost her noble status after financial difficulties, sought a position as a servant for Queen Anne. The film shows a stark contrast between rich and poor: the first time Abigail appears, she is squished inside a carriage with a poor family, a man masturbates to her, and when she exits, she falls into a pile of feces. She takes what can barely be called showers with groups of women and faces increasing levels of disrespect. When the queen is in pain, there is a rush of attention to help her; when Abigail is hurt (by her peers) she has to sneak out to get herbs to treat her hand. The class difference is stark, yet because it is set in the 1700s, it is not one that audiences can relate to — or feel like it represents their identity — in the modern day.

What hinders Saltburn’s attempt at having this discussion is one of the film’s big twists. Oliver is not from a poor background and does not have addict parents like he says he does. Instead, he comes from a comfortably upper-middle-class family. With ignorance and wealth, the film seemed like it was making an argument on how privilege blinds people. Though, Oliver tries to steal Felix’s family’s wealth, and at the end he states, “Accidents are for people like you. For the rest of us, there’s work. And unlike you, I actually know how to work.” This argument does not work with him: this is a conversation of large privilege vs. extreme privilege.

Knock at the Cabin does not have a strong discussion around class differences, at most discussing what jobs the antagonists have, with one being a cook at a restaurant. Yet, the actual class difference between the different characters never comes into play. On the other hand, EEAAO presents this discussion clearly. As a Chinese-immigrant family, Evelyn, the main character and mother of Joy, the film’s main queer character, feels targeted by Deirdre, their IRS inspector. When Deirdre explains she will have to fine them for gross negligence or fraud, Evelyn responds, “You’re always trying to confuse us with these big words.” This immediately connects their financial situation to a larger discussion: how immigrants — who may already be lower-income — are shorthanded by complicated systems the government imposes upon people.

Confrontations Toward How Race and Ethnicity Intersect

Out of the five films, four specifically featured white queer characters. Both The Favourite and Knock at the Cabin’s queer couples are white and do not recognize this, Rough Night features a black and white interracial couple, and Saltburn’s cast is white except for Felix’s cousin, Farleigh. The exception to this was EEAAO, where the main queer character is Asian.

Whiteness was surprisingly prevalent among the films, but Knock at the Cabin was most surprising with it. The story features two white gay men, but they are not featured in any of the posters. Instead, posters show antagonists — two of which are POC — or their adoptive Chinese daughter. If audiences did not watch the trailer, they may go into the film with preconceptions of a much more diverse main cast and “standard” heteronormativity. Along with this, these POC are the primary antagonists for most of the film, as they take the family hostage, telling them that one of their family members must kill another or the world will end. This presents minorities against minorities — and the ones who happen to be white need to save the world.

Similarly, Saltburn presents its only POC character as an antagonistic force. Throughout the film, he constantly alienates Oliver and tries to get in the way of him and Felix. Early in the film, when Oliver wears a tux, Farleigh tells him, “Oh, nice tux. Wow. It’s a rental, right?” At Saltburn, Farleigh tells Elspeth the fake details about Oliver making his mother sick and is who tells Felix about Oliver having oral sex with Venetia, Felix’s sister, causing a rift. Even when Farleigh and Oliver seem to have a bonding moment during karaoke, Farleigh ruins this by having Oliver sing “Rent” by Pet Shop Boys, featuring lines like, “I love you. You pay my rent.” For the entire film, the one POC character is also the character the audience is supposed to dislike.

While Rough Night is racially aware, a discussion is not one of the main themes of the film. Early on, Alice, one of the white main characters, makes a lot of jokes related to race, confusing other characters and shouting things like, “That’s me! I’m Caucasian Alice!” Throughout the film there is tension between her and Pippa, who is Australian, largely showing up in the form of comments about her ethnicity. Though, one of the most prominent lines pointing toward this is when Frankie points out that a “white dude is dead at the hands of a bunch of women,” since their bachelorette party was derailed by their accidental murder of a stripper. Blair states, “Yeah, white women. I’m black, in case any of you have forgotten.” Frankie counters this with, “I think the only person who’s forgotten that is you.” This has intense implications, especially since Frankie is white, though it does not go anywhere from this, creating the sense of an awareness around an unfinished conversation.

Saltburn, similarly, is aware that Farleigh is their only POC character. He is “different” from everyone else: he relies on Felix’s family for financial support, and when he confronts Felix about feeling like he is always begging, Felix asks what he is implying. Farleigh tells him to ask Liam and Joshua — the non-white footmen whose names he does not recognize. He states:

Oh, that is low, Farleigh … Is that where you want to take this? Make it a race thing? What the fuck? I mean, we’re your family, we don’t even notice… that you… you’re… different or anything like that. I never know our footmen’s names!

Along with this, Oliver’s interference ensures that Farleigh is repeatedly hurt over and over, constantly at ends with Felix and kicked out of their household twice, losing all financial support. The second time is after Felix’s death — he must confront such a great loss alone.

From the very beginning, EEAAO has discussions around race. When a customer is given the wrong amount of change, he states, “This is only ten. I thought you people were very good with math.” Joy attempts to tell her grandfather, Gong Gong, about her girlfriend, Becky, but cannot remember the word in Chinese — Evelyn states that she is a very good friend, using language as a weapon against her queerness. Similarly, the film bounces between English and Chinese, with important details often in Chinese. Early on, Evelyn starts out in English, saying to Joy, “You are very lucky” — she switches to Chinese, hiding the conversation from customers — “your mother is open to you dating a girl. And she is a white girl.” Not only is this directly confronting the fact that Joy and Becky are interracial, with Joy adding on, “She’s half Mexican,” but recognizes tension surrounding race, allowing the characters to exist and be who they are while also realizing the implications that come from being who they are.

Authentic Casting

Knock at the Cabin, Rough Night, and EEAAO were entirely composed of queer actors for queer roles. Knock at the Cabin focuses on a gay couple, with Ben Aldridge and Jonathan Groff openly gay. Frankie and Blair in Rough Night are WLW, and Ilana Glazer identifies as queer, Zoë Kravitz as bisexual — a bisexual actress playing a bisexual character. EEAAO features another WLW couple. Stephanie Hsu, who identifies as queer, plays Joy, and Tallie Medel plays Becky. As of writing, Medel’s sexuality is not public information, but they identify as non-binary and use they/them pronouns — but, in the film, their character is referred to as “she.” Still, this is a role played by someone under the LGBT umbrella.

The Favourite and Saltburn are more complicated. The Favourite actresses Olivia Coleman and Rachel Weisz both have husbands and, along with Emma Stone, none have stated their sexuality. All three actors in Saltburn, whether confirmed queer characters or not — Barry Keoghan, Jacob Elordi, and Archie Madekwe — have nothing stating they are queer. An actor’s role in a film says nothing concrete about their sexuality, and therefore assumptions cannot be made about something as personal as identity. There is a chance the entire cast of Saltburn and The Favourite is LGBT, but there is just as high of a chance that they are not. As heterosexuality is perceived as dominant, it is not as common for someone to be “out” as straight. So, unknown sexualities cannot be assumed. Otherwise, this points toward heterosexuality as “the norm.” Still, it is relevant to note when films use publicly queer figures in their roles.

Multiple Levels of Queer Intimacy and Sexuality

Queerness was explicitly clear in all the films but in varying levels. Some were very clear with this, with explicit intimacy, while others were tamer in their renditions. Either way, despite the varying ways of doing so, all characters were clearly queer.

All five films showed that they were queer from the beginning. Knock at the Cabin starts out with Wen, Andrew and Eric’s adoptive daughter, talking about how “All the kids at school only have one dad. All the Disney shows do too,” explaining that it bothers her when her “guidance counselor keeps saying that it’s so great … For some reason it feels like she’s saying the opposite.” It confronts gay marriage and homophobia as soon as the film starts. Rough Night has no room to question this either: Frankie and Blair say they are together in the first minute. Saltburn constantly questions if Oliver really loved Felix and opens with Oliver’s monologue:

I wasn’t in love with him. I know everyone thought I was. But I wasn’t. I loved him. Of course! It was impossible not to love Felix. And that was part of the problem. Everyone loved him. … I protected him. I was honest with him. I understood him. I loved him. I loved him. I loved him. But was I “in love” with him?

Whether or not the audience knows the answer, this question is present from the start. EEAAO starts with a lot going on: financial issues, Chinese cultural aspects, and divorce papers. Joy’s relationship is added on top of this. All of this is in the first five minutes, before the multiverse — the main plot point of the film — even comes up.

These made clear references to relationships or intimacy, but The Favourite made its queerness less obvious. It did not have any handholding for the audience, but the queer relationship was still clear. Sarah tells Anne she loves her, and though it could be platonic, the way the characters interact, with soft looks and playful remarks, makes it clear there is something more; it is not a shock when they have sex — it feels natural for their relationship.

There were different trends in how the films showed queerness. Most common was kissing: three films showed at least one queer kiss. Rough Night and The Favourite feature kissing on the lips, and EEAAO has happy, playful kisses on the cheek and lips between Becky and Joy — no dramatic kiss scene, but a normal kiss. Though, these films also have kissing between cis-het couples, so it did not exist on its own.

Sex was more complicated. Rough Night and The Favourite expressed sex clearly, both with WLW sex that was not entirely fade-to-black. Though, both are aspects that move the plot forward: Rough Night uses this as a tool to advance the main character’s plot to get away with murder, and The Favourite uses this to prove that Anne and Sarah are in a relationship, while also being how Abigail finds out. The films also make comedic references to sex, such as Rough Night having Blair wistfully reminisce on the threesome, as well as Jess’ fiancée, a cis-het man, connecting two men looking for a hookup at a gas station. EEAAO did not feature any sex scenes, but sexual content related to sexuality is upfront. There is vaginal symbolism, Joy fights with two dildos, there is a sex dungeon with different kink items, and Deirdre’s “Auditor of the month” trophies are shaped like butt plugs — which multiple men fight over to use. Throughout the film, Evelyn is presented as heterosexual, but in an alternate universe where people have hotdogs for fingers, Evelyn is shown to be in a queer relationship with Deirdre; in one of these scenes, there is a moment of them suggestively putting their hotdog fingers in each other’s mouths. It does not need sex scenes to connect sex to queerness.

The Favourite also had many heterosexual scenes involving sexual content, but these were contrasted by negative portrayals. Abigail has a history of being a victim of rape, and when a man comes to her room, she asks if he has come to seduce her or rape her, and he answers, “I am a gentleman.” Her response is, “So, rape then.” Eventually, they marry, but she is completely disinterested in sex with him. When Abigail poisons Sarah, she wakes up in a brothel of female sex workers with male clientele; she was brought there by Mae, who was having sex with a man against a tree as Sarah was pulled across the ground by her horse. There were also phallic references: men masturbating, a man stroking a cane to allude to masturbation, and a man in the nude being pelted with oranges. Themes around heterosexual sex were more prevalent, yet were presented as darker — more dangerous — a contrast to how queerness has been portrayed in earlier films.

On the other hand, Saltburn’s sex scenes were all unsavory. Oliver is shown to have sex with both a man and a woman, the former being the only sex scene between two men. This is a scene where he masturbates Farleigh, but this is non-consensual, making it also rape. During two heterosexual sex scenes with Felix, Oliver watches both, later eavesdropping and overwatching Felix masturbating in a tub twice. Oliver also combines these sexual feelings with shock factor: Oliver drinks some of Felix’s bath water and licks the drain, puts his fingers down Venetia’s throat and sexualizes her bulimia, and fully undresses and humps Felix’s grave.

The one outlier was Knock at the Cabin. It had an obvious queer couple without any kissing, a sex scene, or allusions to sex, whether heterosexual or homosexual. Eric and Andrew barely even hug. Similarly to its marketing strategies which hid the queer narrative, the film does not present them as a married couple. Instead, affection is displayed in adopting heteronormative ideals, similar to past films. They adopt a child and bend towards traditional gender roles: Andrew is more dominant and masculine, and Eric is more submissive and almost effeminate. It presents them similarly to Carol: Eric and Andrew, like Carol, have to choose between their lover or their child, except this is raised to new stakes, where rather than lose custody or a relationship, someone’s life will be lost — and if they cannot choose, then the world ends.

Significant Roles and Villains/Victims

All the films had characters in significant roles. The Favourite and Knock at the Cabin had queer protagonists, Saltburn had a mix of queer protagonists and antagonists, and EEAAO had a queer antagonist. Rough Night featured queer side characters that were a part of the main cast. This was followed by an unexpected trend: queer characters presented as villains or victims.

Knock at the Cabin was the most straightforward. Its protagonists are a queer couple, and with the plot against their family, they are clearly victims. Along with this, Andrew believes that it is because they are gay that this happens, stating, “We were targeted. We’ve always been targeted.” This is amplified when he recognizes one of their attackers as a homophobic man who attacked him in a bar. They are victims in terms of both plot and homophobia.

Oliver is the protagonist of Saltburn, and despite his denial of Felix, the entire film presents his fascination with him, with longing expressions and all. Yet, the one character who is explicitly queer is Farleigh. Early on, Felix explains that Farleigh’s “been expelled from almost every school in England for sucking off the teachers” — confirming he is queer from the start. Felix’s sexuality is never confirmed, but the romantic tension between the two presents a silent queerness, akin to unstated queerness in Ben-Hur. Most obviously is a scene of them by a bridge, the two pushed together by the framing of the medium shots, soft pink and purple lighting against them. Gentle piano music plays in the background, but they do not address the moment. This silent queerness conflicts with how openly queer Farleigh is — not only the antagonist, the only explicitly queer character, and the only POC character, but also a victim to Oliver.

While Oliver denies being in love with Felix, he does not deny being queer. During Oliver’s final monologue, as Felix is bathed in golden light, he states, “I wasn’t ‘in love’ with him. I know, everyone thought I was. But I wasn’t. I loved him … By God, I loved him.” It gives the opposite idea, just like earlier scenes, that he is denying the truth. The images switch and he says he hated him, yet on screen are some of his most intimate — if uncomfortable — moments: him kissing Felix’s grave marker and licking the bathwater — private things he did not need to do if he was only fooling everyone into believing that he was in love. He is the villain. He was already uncomfortable to other characters, with his treatment of Venetia, his rape of Farleigh, and even Felix stating that Oliver makes his blood run cold. In the end, Oliver kills everyone off. His queerness is a madness: once again, something to be manipulated into something dangerous.

The Favourite is similar in this regard. Abigail, the protagonist, is never stated to be queer. She gets a husband but marries for status. Her relationship with the queen mirrors this: she uses Anne’s sexuality as manipulation to become Maid of Bedchamber. When confronted about it, she says that the queen is “forceful,” denying their relationship with violence. One aspect that brings them together is the queen’s rabbits. She has seventeen, each one for a child she lost. Sarah calls it macabre, but Abigail is different: she spends time with the queen and her rabbits. Once she achieves her goals, though, she no longer has the affection she once showed, going so far as to trap one of the rabbits under her shoe as it squeals. Abigail’s role is obvious: she is the villain. It is unclear if she is queer or if she was strategizing it. Instead, Sarah is banished, her relationship with Anne never recovered, and the Queen visibly deteriorates, her right side paralyzed. They are both explicitly queer and victim to Abigail.

Just as protagonism does not make a character good, antagonism does not make a character evil. Jobu Tupaki is EEAAO’s antagonist. Jobu, who is all versions of Joy, can see all possible parts of the multiverse and lives as a dangerous entity causing chaos. Initially, she is presented as a villain. Evelyn even blames her for the reason her daughter “thinks she is gay.” Yet, when she finds the “right” Evelyn, she explains, “All this time… I wasn’t looking for you so I could kill you. I was just looking for someone who could see what I see. Feel what I feel.” To accomplish this, she built a bagel with every possible topping — everything from report cards to ads on Craigslist — and it collapses in on itself, destroying whatever was sucked into it. Jobu clarifies this, explaining, “I wanted to see if I went in, could I finally escape? Like, actually die.” While initially presented as a villain, she is revealed to be someone wracked with the pain of being trapped inside a box. She even confronts this, stating, “‘Right’ is a tiny box invented by people who are afraid, and I know what it feels like to be trapped inside that box.” Evelyn, without questioning, replies, “No, it’s not like that. It’s Gong Gong. He’s a different generation.” This highlights Joy’s trauma as it relates to the pain of having Evelyn as a mother and struggling for queer acceptance. She is a tired victim who does not want to hurt anymore.

This representation as villain and victim directly calls back to the history of queer representation in film, both in villainizing and sympathizing. While it would be unreasonable to deny all queer villains and victims from film, it is still an undeniable trend that four out of the five films feature queer victims. They are families forced to choose between their loved ones, characters blindsided by a manipulative force, couples whose love will never be realized, and families hurt by trauma and lack of acceptance. This directly mirrors earlier queer films that present queer characters as sympathetic with palatable representation.

The only film that does not have strong characterization for a villain or victim is Rough Night. Instead, while Frankie and Blair are part of the main cast, they are not the story’s focus. This mainly revolves around the friendship of Jess and Alice — two heterosexual women. They align more with the “gay best friend,” which is prevalent both in film and social pressures. EEAAO also had its main character be a heterosexual woman, but in this case, Joy is an essential part of the narrative, given she is the antagonist. The film even creates the alternate universe where Evelyn is queer. In Rough Night, Frankie and Blair, while significant, are not essential to the plot — their queerness could easily be removed because their relationship is a subplot behind cis-het friendship. The film tried to incorporate queerness, such as the scene with Jess’ fiancée connecting two gay men at a gas station, and the threesome occurs to access security footage, advancing the plot, but it is a plot that could be reworked into troubled ex-best friends if it were rewritten to take out queerness. The film lands in a strange place, where queerness is so explicit and yet also so separate.

V. Discussion

Based on the changing political climate surrounding queerness in the United States post-Obergefell v. Hodges, research was done under the premise that today’s queer films would be privy to intersectional identities. This assumption was in part because of the researcher’s own experience with queer films, knowing many that feature a diverse cast as well as recognize the implications of identity within their cast. Instead, based on the results of qualitative content analysis of five randomly selected films, this study does not wholly support this assumption.

This research found that while mainstream queer film has improved in many categories — explicitly naming queerness, showing queer intimacy, racial diversity and awareness, discussions around socioeconomic status, authentic casting, and having significant roles — there was not an improvement on all fronts. Following recurring themes from early representations of queerness, with queerness being weaponized between queer villains and queer victims, outward displays of wealth, majority white casting (even in the stable of films, out of eight racial/ethnic groups, five were represented by a single film each) and “standard” gay and lesbian identities (there was only one confirmed bisexual character and the stable included one transwoman, but there were no transmen or nonbinary characters, asexual or aromantic characters, or non-monogamous main characters), it calls into question the types of representation broadcasted to the largest audiences. Especially within the case of queer victims and villains, one of the most prominent recurring tropes from early film, it specifically frames queer people in ways that impact their character. This may not be a lack of societal change within queer film in general, but within the state of film distribution that presents these representations to the mainstream public. The representations the public is most privy to follow a standard, creating what can be deemed model queerness: the type of queer person that is perceived to be most “acceptable” toward audiences.

While these are all fictional narratives, each film has the capability of impacting audiences’ societal beliefs around queerness. Plenty of research can be found on the implications of violence and sexual behavior in media and the youth, but research has also shown that fiction can influence real-world beliefs of adults as well — to the extent that one study found that audiences who watched Wag the Dog (1997) were more likely to believe in a far-fetched conspiracy that the U.S. government has fabricated a war for political gain, and will do so again. Similarly to news media, even though this deals with non-fiction narratives, fictional films still frame issues — this framing can affect attitudes and consciousness of them (Mulligan & Habel, 2013). Therefore, what are the potential implications of these films — which are the most accessible to audiences, being mainstream — that present a model queerness for films focused on queerness? This can potentially influence and strengthen existing societal beliefs about queer people, even in real-life contexts.

However, while building the stable of films, the researcher noted that many of the films that did explore more identities did not have full theatrical releases. Spa Night (2020) revolves around a closeted Korean American gay man. Cicada (2020) revolves around an interracial queer couple: a white bisexual man and a black closeted gay man. Tangerine (2015) revolves around a Latina transwoman. We the Animals (2018) revolves around a young Latino boy discovering his sexuality and focuses purely on childhood explorations of queerness. These feature diverse characters and critically did very well, except all of them had limited theatrical releases, even though three premiered at the Sundance Film Festival. These break the mold of model queerness, but they are not accessible to the largest populations of audiences.

While the stable of films was as unbiased as possible, limitations for this research are within the selection process. Other researchers may consider different criteria for what a queer film constitutes, as this label does not have a specific, succinct definition, so other researchers may include or exclude films. While the researcher employed random selection using a random number generator to be as objective as possible, potential subjectivity can occur in defining population boundaries. The researcher also analyzed the films based on content and technique, but it is impossible to be entirely bias-free, especially in interpretations of art. Other researchers may notice different aspects of the films or may interpret aspects differently.

VI. Conclusion

This study found that queer films are moving toward open-minded roles and representations, attempting to make intersectionality clear and confront difficult discussions; still, there are areas where they continue to be held back in Hollywood. In the sense of other identities being allowed on screen, this is an improvement from earlier films. Characters were queer from the very start, and many were intimate on screen. Yet, while there was social awareness toward identities, discussions ended up half-baked when they did not (1) let the characters exist as their intersectional identities while (2) recognizing the influence of their identities. Films presented parts of discussions: they made sure audiences noticed an awareness, while not backing it up with arguments, evidence that can apply to today’s audiences, or characters audiences can relate to. Most queer characters were also villains or victims, presenting reoccurring trends of demonizing and sympathizing. However, there was a clear increase in diversity, with more POC main characters, women, a disabled character, and a low-income family. However, racial minorities were often shackled with white main protagonists, rather than being standalone protagonists, and the variety of socioeconomic representation was often between upper-class and comfortably middle-class. EEAAO was often an “exception” in its representations. This shows that there has been an improvement in queer representation, but Hollywood’s mainstream still has a long way to go, as it still holds onto common themes of the past that create “model queerness.” Whether this originates within societal change reflected in film itself or the current state of distribution is unclear, but the standardization of queer identities remains. As this framing reoccurs, it has the potential to influence audience perceptions of real-life queerness. Exceptions to the model show what representation can look like.

Future research may consider how queer characters are represented in film as a whole to see how this representation has changed in films that are not centered around queerness or a queer character. It may also consider portrayals outside of Hollywood, whether this be streaming, limited theatrical release films, or international cinema, to understand how this representation appears differently across different states of film distribution.

Acknowledgements

I want to express my thanks to my professor, Dr. Daniel Haygood, for his support during and after this research. What started simply as a project for COM4970 Great Ideas: Issues/Research quickly delved into a passion project thanks to Dr. Haygood’s unrelenting support, pushing to challenge my academic rigor. I am grateful for his continued support from my general idea on the first day of class, through research, publication, and continuing to challenge me to bring my research into more and more avenues. I also want to thank the School of Communications for fostering this curiosity and making it possible for me to question the things I think need to be questioned, and my parents for encouraging this curiosity from the earliest moments I can remember.

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