First gay movie

Despite the overwhelming number of pioneering films and significant characters that would be impossible to encompass within a single compilation, a select few pivotal junctures in the history of LGBTQ+ cinema have been chosen for commemoration during Pride Month, offering an opportunity to reflect on how cinematic portrayals of the LGBTQ+ community have progressed through the years. From instances where gay characters served merely as comedic punchlines and queer-coded antagonists in Disney animations, to critically acclaimed, Oscar-winning LGBTQ+ features such as Moonlight, narratives centered around LGBTQ+ individuals have traversed a considerable distance, finally beginning to be showcased on screen in an authentic and celebratory manner.

The Hays Code and Queer-Coding

What is queer-coding, exactly?

To grasp the broader context surrounding LGBTQ+ cinema, it is crucial to recall that, while the LGBTQ+ community has always existed, it has largely been considered outside the prevailing 'status quo,' periodically being deemed illicit, which consequently compelled queer individuals to maintain a clandestine existence. This societal dynamic permeated the realm of cinema, as the Hays Code (also known as the Motion Picture Production Code), implemented in the 1930s, prohibited any explicit portrayals of homosexuality in films for a span exceeding three decades. Preceding this mandate, there were isolated instances of overt depictions of LGBTQ+ narratives in film (a few of which will be explored later); however, once this code was enforced, the open telling of LGBTQ+ stories and the presentation of queer characters became significantly more challenging.

Naturally, this prohibition did not entirely prevent queer characters from appearing on screen; nevertheless, their identities could never be explicitly declared as gay, with their queerness only ever subtly implied—a practice termed 'queer-coding.'

Queer-coding refers to the utilization of LGBTQ+ stereotypes and recurring motifs to subtly suggest a character's sexual orientation, though it is never overtly confirmed. Once an individual becomes cognizant of this technique, such characters become discernible almost ubiquitously. Ranging from Faith in Buffy the Vampire Slayer to Mrs. Danvers in Rebecca, these figures can surface in productions spanning from animated Disney features to daily daytime dramas.

While queer-coding afforded LGBTQ+ characters a continued presence in cinema, its history is intricate and fraught with difficulties. In numerous respects, the very tropes employed to identify these characters served to reinforce harmful stereotypes; conversely, in other instances, they were deliberately used to villainize the community. Notable examples include Disney antagonists like Scar in Lion King and Jafar in Aladdin, who, as The Take aptly notes, were instrumental in reinforcing the assumption that 'anyone who deviates from gender norms must be wicked.' The unsettling fact that these villains were featured in films intended for both children and adults renders this underlying theme all the more sinister.

The Take produced an excellent video elucidating queer-coding; please take a moment to view it:

Fortunately, the Hays Code was rescinded in 1968, a development that enabled cinema to once again narrate queer stories without the necessity of concealing elements in ambiguity. Presently, we are observing a greater prevalence of openly gay characters who transcend mere punchlines or stereotypical representations (such as the flamboyant gay best friend trope pervasive in many rom-coms), nor are their narratives solely confined to tragedy; instead, these stories are celebratory and rendered as romantically and complexly as those of any other character—exemplified perfectly by television series like It's a Sin, Brooklyn 99, and Sex Education. While queer-coded characters continue to exist, subtly hinting at romance to tease LGBTQ+ audiences without explicit confirmation of sexuality, this is no longer the sole avenue through which queer characters can be depicted in film.

Now that you are familiar with the phenomenon of queer coding in cinema, do any other titles that are not mentioned here come to mind? Might one consider Top Gun...? Their bond seemed to extend beyond mere wingmen, if you were to ask us...

Therefore, with this background regarding the historical portrayal of LGBTQ+ characters in film now established, let us delve into some pivotal moments within LGBTQ+ cinema and observe how representation has transformed across the decades.

Noteworthy milestones in LGBTQ+ cinema

The Dickson Experimental Sound Film (1894)

Frequently referred to as The Gay Brothers, this brief cinematic piece has been recognized as one of the earliest instances of same-sex imagery presented on screen. Measuring only a few seconds in duration, it was conceived as an experiment and represented a very early (perhaps even the inaugural) endeavor to synchronize audio with moving visuals. It is quite telling that even at such an nascent stage in cinematic history, depictions of intimate male interaction were utilized, despite the fact that the men merely dance closely while another plays the violin—yet, by the standards of that era, this was perceived as a departure from conventional male roles.

A Woman (1915)

Charlie Chaplin's motion picture, A Woman, features the renowned comedian in drag, manipulating the affections of two men and ultimately deceiving them into kissing each other. This serves as an exemplary illustration of how numerous queer characters were typically depicted even prior to the implementation of the Hays Code—namely, as a source of comedic relief. This particular trope persisted even throughout the period governed by the Hays Code, as seen in films like Some Like It Hot (1959), a comedy featuring Marilyn Monroe, Tony Curtis, and Jack Lemmon.

Anders als die Anderen (1919)

During a fleeting interval when German censorship policies were relaxed following World War I, this film emerged as an early instance of a narrative featuring an overtly gay protagonist, and it was widely regarded as a plea for gay rights and greater tolerance. The literal translation of its title is 'Different From the Others,' and the plot revolves around a gay violinist who takes his own life after being blackmailed by an individual aware of his sexual orientation, at a time when homosexuality remained illegal in Germany, as in much of the globe. While the conclusion is tragic, this cinematic work presented a more empathetic gay character for its epoch.

Pandora's Box (1929)

Within Pandora's Box, we encounter arguably the first explicitly lesbian character in Countess Geschwitz (Alice Roberts), who is portrayed as an admirer of the film's central figure, Lulu (Louise Brooks). Rather than merely being implied, the Countess's profound romantic affection for the alluring Lulu is unequivocally established, marking it as groundbreaking for its era. This lesbian subplot was swiftly succeeded in 1931 by Mädchen in Uniform, which is widely considered the inaugural overtly lesbian motion picture, centering on a young lesbian's romantic interests in women. Despite subsequent attempts by the Nazis to obliterate all existing copies of Mädchen in Uniform, it has remarkably endured.

Morocco (1930)

In this romantic drama from 1930, a cabaret vocalist portrayed by the bisexual actress Marlene Dietrich shares a kiss with another woman on the lips while attired in a man's suit and top hat. Although this was not the first gay kiss captured on the silver screen (that distinction belongs to Manslaughter, 1922), it marked the initial instance where a leading actress publicly kissed another woman on screen. It was Dietrich herself who proposed the kiss, and she skillfully ensured its inclusion in the final cut, thereby evading censorship by artfully plucking a flower from the woman before their kiss, then bestowing the flower upon Gary Cooper, who played the primary male romantic interest, thus making the kiss's presence integral to the scene's continuity. This stands as a superb illustration of the ingenuity employed by queer actors and directors in seeking circumventions around censorship, managing to subtly introduce LGBTQ+ representation into films, even if these portrayals were minor and ephemeral.

1934: The Hays Code came into effect, rendering explicit depictions of homosexuality illicit, with the purported justification that "if motion pictures present stories that will affect lives for the better, they can become the most powerful force for the improvement of mankind." This code was founded upon three fundamental tenets:

- No motion picture shall be produced that would diminish the moral standards of its viewership. Therefore, the audience's sympathy should never be directed toward crime, wrongdoing, malevolence, or sin.

- Upright standards of living, constrained solely by the demands of drama and entertainment, must be depicted.

- Neither law, whether natural or human, shall be subjected to ridicule, nor shall any sympathy be cultivated for its transgression.1

Beyond homosexuality, the code also explicitly forbade:

• nudity

• suggestive dance forms

• blasphemous content

• the mockery of religious beliefs

• the consumption of illegal narcotics

• references to venereal disease

• relationships between individuals of different races

• scenes of childbirth

• detailed portrayals of criminal acts (to deter emulation): This encompassed violent actions as well as precise instructions for lockpicking, safe-cracking, or the mixture of chemicals for explosive devices.

• Any utterance stronger than 'damn'

However, the Hays Code did not succeed in completely eradicating homosexual individuals from cinematic narratives; instead, it ushered in the era of queer-coding, wherein queer characters were subtly concealed. Occasionally, as exemplified in Morocco, this practice was innocuous and beneficial for the community. On other occasions, however, it proved detrimental and served to demonize queer individuals and characteristics commonly associated with the queer community, all while refraining from overtly confirming these insinuations.

Rebecca (1940)

Rebecca holds significance as it clearly exemplifies a queer-coded antagonist within film. Mrs. Danvers, Rebecca's former housekeeper, exhibits a clear and consuming romantic fixation on the deceased Rebecca, establishing herself as a profoundly unsettling and perilous villain in this atmospheric Hitchcock production. Hitchcock explored this thematic element in several of his subsequent films, including Psycho (1960), which features Norman Bates cross-dressing as his mother, and Rope (1948), which chronicles the narrative of two men (implied to be gay, though never explicitly confirmed in the script) who commit murder purely for amusement—to cite just a few examples! Further insights into queer-coding within Hitchcock films can be found in a comprehensive MysteryTribute article, which delves more deeply into this topic.

Rebel Without a Cause (1955)

Not only did Rebel Without a Cause achieve immense box office success, but it also incorporated a discernible, coded gay subtext evident in the relationship between the defiant Jim Stark (portrayed by James Dean, who was also widely believed to be bisexual), and Plato, played by Sal Mineo, one of Hollywood's pioneering prominent actors to openly acknowledge his homosexuality. Indeed, Mineo subsequently characterized Plato as the first gay teenager to appear in a film. The movie also benefited from the vision of a bisexual director, Nicholas Ray, who actively encouraged Dean to infuse his own bisexuality into the intimate scenes shared with Mineo. While nothing was explicitly stated or performed in Rebel Without a Cause, contemporary viewers can readily discern the pervasive LGBTQ+ themes and queer-coding throughout the production.

Victim (1961)

Set in 1960s London, Victim distinguished itself as a significant film that overtly criticized homophobia in Britain, where homosexuality remained illegal until 1967. The plot centers on a closeted gay lawyer, portrayed by Dirk Bogarde, who undertakes the case of a gay man being blackmailed due to his sexual orientation, thereby uncovering a network of other gay men also subjected to extortion. It holds the distinction of being the first English-speaking film to employ the term ‘homosexual' and sensitively explores the tribulations queer individuals endured during that era, along with the extreme measures they were compelled to take to conceal their sexuality, ranging from paying off blackmailers to committing suicide rather than facing public exposure.

In a parallel vein, in The Children's Hour (1961), Audrey Hepburn and Shirley MacLaine depict two educators falsely accused of being in a lesbian relationship by a disgruntled student. Although the accusation itself is unfounded, this rumor tragically culminates in the suicide of one of the teachers, who was, in reality, a lesbian. Here, we can observe the continuation of a theme initiated with Anders als die Anderen, wherein queer characters are no longer exclusively utilized for comedic effect but rather to construct tragic and unjust storylines. However, this, in turn, evolved into a queer trope in itself: the 'tragic gay ending' became a problematic stereotype, as it consistently denied gay characters any form of joyful resolution in film.

1968: The Hays Code was abolished and superseded by the new Motion Picture Association film rating (MPAA) system.

The Killing of Sister George (1968)

Within mere months of the Hays Code's repeal, The Killing of Sister George was released, notably featuring the first lesbian sex scene. It received an ‘X' rating for its portrayal of an actress, June, who dedicates her leisure hours to drinking, smoking cigars, and engaging intimately with her younger female partner, Alice. The film also showcases the couple at a lesbian nightclub, and Alice is depicted engaging in sexual activity with another queer character, the network producer Mrs. Croft. While the movie was unambiguous in its depiction of queerness, none of the lesbian characters are presented with particular sympathy or positivity—though they did exhibit more complexity than some prior portrayals, they would still be deemed highly problematic by contemporary standards.

June 1969: The Stonewall Riots unfolded in New York City following a police raid on the Stonewall Inn. This unjust intervention at the well-known gay establishment ignited three days of widespread unrest and demonstrations by the LGBTQ+ community, who were deeply frustrated by police brutality. It is in direct commemoration of this seminal moment in LGBTQ+ history that June is now celebrated as Pride Month.

The Boys in the Band (1970)

Originally conceived as an Off-Broadway theatrical production (and recently adapted by Netflix), The Boys in the Band offered an unprecedented depiction of multiple gay characters and the intricate dynamics and relationships within their friendship circle. The narrative unfolds at a birthday celebration in New York, attended by a close-knit group of gay men; however, when a straight friend (unaware of the host's sexual orientation) unexpectedly arrives, pre-existing tensions within the group resurface as the host endeavors to conceal his identity. Presenting a diverse array of gay characters from a gay perspective within such an intimate, personal setting was immensely significant at the time, and the fact that the film has been reimagined for contemporary audiences underscores the enduring relevance of its story today.

Dog Day Afternoon (1975)

Based on a factual criminal incident, Dog Day Afternoon recounts the tale of a man who attempts to finance his partner's gender affirmation surgery by robbing a bank. Chris Sarandon, a cisgender actor, even garnered an Oscar nomination for his portrayal of Leon, a trans woman. While this marked one of the initial mainstream transgender characters to grace the big screen, it concurrently contributed to what has now become a widely criticized phenomenon: cisgender actors receiving accolades and recognition for embodying trans roles. The primary concern with this trend is twofold: not only are these opportunities often withheld from trans actors who already face significant challenges in securing work, but such portrayals can also distort the public perception of trans men and women, potentially even inciting violence against the trans community.

The Rocky Horror Picture Show (1975)

There was absolutely no possibility of omitting this particular entry from the compilation! Few cinematic works capture the essence of queer camp quite like the iconic cult classic Rocky Horror Picture Show, in which a naïve and conventional heterosexual couple inadvertently stumble upon a magnificently eccentric and gothic fortress inhabited by a cast of extraordinary personalities. Murder, cannibalism, uninhibited hedonism, and musical numbers dominate the castle, all presided over by the alluring, pansexual trans scientist Dr. Frank-N-Furter (Tim Curry). While it can be argued that Rocky Horror depicts homosexuality in a somewhat unfavorable light, the film was enthusiastically embraced by both the LGBTQ+ community and the broader public. Intentionally exaggerated, dramatically charged, and uproariously funny, queer camp has consistently been a vital component of LGBTQ+ culture, rendering Rocky Horror a highly revered queer escapade and a cult phenomenon for the community, one that extravagantly satirized established queer cinema tropes.

Making Love (1982)

Although numerous instances of queer characters being villainized in film persisted, gay screenwriter Barry Sandler sought to counteract this trend in Making Love. In this cinematic work, the central character is happily wed to a woman but has for some time grappled with his attraction to men, ultimately falling in love with an openly gay individual. While still complex, the film presents gay characters in a more realistic and tender light, conspicuously avoiding the customary bleak and tragic conclusions previously prevalent in LGBTQ+ cinema.

Making Love was succeeded a few years later by Desert Hearts (1985), which similarly offered a happy resolution for a lesbian couple, thereby introducing some joyful queer narratives into mainstream media.

Parting Glances (1986)

It would be an egregious oversight not to acknowledge the profound impact of AIDS on the LGBTQ+ community in the late 1980s and early 1990s. This illness was widely misunderstood and unjustly associated with the community, even gaining the pejorative moniker of the 'Gay Disease.' This wrought immense damage upon the community, not only concerning public perception of LGBTQ+ individuals but also leading to the tragic deaths of thousands of gay men who did not receive appropriate care and treatment.

Parting Glances served as a crucial cinematic portrayal of this crisis. The narrative centers on two men in their late twenties who are cohabiting in a romantic relationship, addressing the subject of AIDS and its repercussions on the gay community with frankness, realism, and warmth, thereby humanizing those living with AIDS rather than demonizing them. Parting Glances was helmed by Bill Sherwood, a first-time director and gay man himself, who regrettably succumbed to AIDS before he could contribute further to LGBTQ+ cinema.

Orlando (1992)

Amidst a surge of independent productions from gay directors, a new cinematic movement, dubbed 'New Queer Cinema,' emerged in the early 1990s. Central to this trend was Orlando, a subversive and visually striking adaptation of Virginia Woolf's original literary work about an androgynous young nobleman in Elizabethan England who is granted a substantial castle and land by the late Queen Elizabeth I. Orlando was enjoined by the Queen never to age, a command he adheres to, living for centuries within his castle, and later mystically awakening transformed into a woman. This gender-fluid film, directed by Sally Potter, is artfully imbued with themes of gender and queer politics, and it frequently remains an overlooked yet significant contribution to queer cinema.

The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert (1994)

This Australian arthouse comedy chronicles the journeys of two drag queens and a trans woman as they traverse the Australian desert with the intention of performing a drag show. It is a joyful and humorous production, showcasing vibrant queer drag culture while also tenderly exploring the emotional narratives of the lead trio, without ever descending too deeply into melancholy. The film became an unexpected triumph, propelling drag into mainstream cinema with its distinctive dry, camp humor.

Brokeback Mountain (2005)

Brokeback Mountain achieved another monumental box office success in 2005. Directed by Ang Lee, the film presents an intimate and openly gay love story between two cowboys who have maintained a clandestine romance for numerous years. The movie garnered three Academy Awards, and thanks to its triumph, both critically and within mainstream Hollywood, it conclusively demonstrated that LGBTQ+ narratives were not exclusively for a niche market but also resonated with the broader populace. Furthermore, it marked a significant breakthrough in depicting the sexual aspect of a gay relationship in a romantic light, featuring explicit sex scenes rather than merely alluding to them.

Blue is the Warmest Color (2013)

This coming-of-age drama was awarded the esteemed Palme d'Or at the Cannes Film Festival and received nominations for both a BAFTA and a Golden Globe. It follows a young woman's journey of self-discovery through a profound, sexual relationship with a female art student whom she encounters in a lesbian bar. However, despite its critical acclaim, the film was also widely regarded as highly problematic. Some queer critics perceived it as voyeuristic and permeated by the male gaze, fetishizing lesbian relationships for male viewers through a graphic, seven-minute-long sex scene between the two women. This perception was reinforced by the fact that the female love story was directed by a man, Abdellatif Kechiche, who was also accused of creating deplorable filming conditions for the cast, rendering it a bittersweet and contentious addition to queer cinema.

Tangerine (2015)

The year 2015 proved to be quite remarkable for queer cinema, with Carol also gracing the big screen and Cate Blanchett earning an Academy Award nomination for Best Actress in a Leading Role, among numerous other distinctions for the romantic lesbian period drama. Nevertheless, it is Tangerine that truly distinguishes itself due to its primary characters comprising multiple trans women of color, who were authentically portrayed by trans actors of color, thereby avoiding whitewashing of the cast or the use of cisgender actors in these roles.

Moonlight (2016)

Narrating the journey of a young Black gay man as he grapples with his identity from adolescence into adulthood, this poignant coming-of-age drama made history in 2017 as both the first LGBTQ+ film and the first film featuring an all-Black cast to win Best Picture, recognized for its exceptional cinematography, inclusivity, and groundbreaking screenplay.

Rafiki (2018)

From the directorial vision of Wanuri Kahui, Rafiki portrays a lesbian love story set in Nairobi, a locale where homosexuality remains illegal and is punishable by up to 14 years in prison. Consequently, the film faced a ban in Kenya; however, this prohibition was subsequently lifted temporarily for a mere seven days after Kahui initiated legal action against the Kenya Film Classification Board. Following its screening during this limited seven-day window, Rafiki became eligible for Oscar consideration and holds the distinction of being the first Kenyan film ever showcased at the Cannes Film Festival. The Nairobi setting renders Rafiki a significant and audacious film, as it depicts a love story involving young, queer women of color in a territory where such relationships are proscribed.

Love, Simon (2018)

Love, Simon represents another recent cinematic release that has garnered commendation from both queer and heterosexual audiences alike. Adapted from the immensely successful Young Adult novel Simon vs. The Homo Sapiens Agenda, the film, in many respects, functions as a classic coming-of-age narrative concerning a closeted young teenager named Simon (Nick Robinson) who embarks on a journey of self-revelation by coming out online to an anonymous friend, only to subsequently face blackmail regarding his sexuality from a fellow student at his school. Nevertheless, far from disheartening him, this act of blackmail paradoxically aids Simon in accepting and embracing his identity with the unwavering love and support of his friends, thereby crafting a feel-good, affirmative celebration of sexual identity that is proud, defiant, heartwarming, and highly relatable, particularly for young viewers who might be navigating similar teenage identity crises themselves.

Simon's dynamic with his father, in particular (portrayed by Josh Duhamel), imbues this film with a distinct quality, as his father initially struggles with Simon's revelation but swiftly accepts his son for who he is, even offering enthusiastic support to the extent of suggesting they join Grindr together (mistakenly believing it to be merely a social media platform...). This offers a refreshing divergence from the conventional coming-out narrative, and it was genuinely cherished by us!

Portrait of a Lady on Fire (2019)

This French historical romantic drama from Céline Sciamma, who also directed Tomboy in 2011, serves as a compelling illustration of the significant advancements LGBTQ+ films have made since as recently as 2013. Whereas Blue is the Warmest Color was criticized for fetishizing the female form and lesbian relationships, Portrait of a Lady on Fire is lauded for its adept use of the female gaze, its complex female characters, and its intimate, authentic storytelling of a lesbian relationship. Sciamma deliberately aimed to concentrate on the eroticism born of consent, a theme that resplendently shines through this direct and exquisite film, which effectively defies many of the long-standing tropes that queer cinema has diligently strived to shed for decades.

Alongside Portrait of a Lady on Fire, 2019 proved to be an immensely significant year for LGBTQ+ cinema, witnessing a proliferation of inclusive films and a greater number of gay characters on screen than ever before. However, further efforts are still needed to broaden the representation of gay characters of color, as the majority continued to be white queer individuals, and to increase the visibility of transgender characters.

Advancing to 2021, we are observing notable positive developments. Films such as Love, Simon depict the act of coming out during high school as a positive experience rather than a source of apprehension, and many more recent LGBTQ+ films emphasize pride over tragedy. We have even begun to witness the inclusion of LGBTQ+ characters in mainstream children's entertainment, exemplified by The Mitchells vs. The Machines (2021), as well as in animated series like Adventure Time and Steven Universe, which feature explicit romantic same-sex relationships. Similarly, Disney+'s Loki, scheduled for release this June, has also confirmed Loki's gender fluidity. Although this does continue Disney's established tendency to portray villains as queer, it is at least a villain who is beloved and possesses more intricate motivations than in previous instances—and, notably, their gender fluidity is explicitly stated rather than merely implied.

It is hoped that these incremental victories signal a positive trend, indicating that even children's television and films are becoming more willing and eager to incorporate LGBTQ+ characters and narratives without concern that such inclusion might jeopardize profitability, which in turn suggests we can anticipate a greater array of inclusive stories both in cinemas and on our home screens.

A substantial commendation is extended to Stacker's article detailing the history of LGBTQ+ representation in film, which provides an extensive catalog of notable LGBTQ+ films and also serves as an excellent resource for those wishing to delve deeper into the subject of LGBTQ+ cinema and its progression. Should you have found this article compelling, we invite you to explore Freesat's own curated selections of top LGBTQ+ TV and film to ascertain if your personal favorites are featured on the list!