French Gay Film

Traditionally, France has been perceived as one of the most open-minded countries globally; it also has an admirable record on gay rights, despite some occasional outbursts from Brigitte Bardot. But has this LGBTQ-friendly stance extended to its cinematic output?

This enumeration concentrates on films readily accessible for viewing in the United Kingdom, yet honorable mention should go to The Ostrich Has Two Eggs (1957), a dated farce that at least features a sympathetic gay son, even if he never appears onscreen, and Les Amitiés particulières (1964), set in a boys' boarding school. Les Nuits fauves (1992) is among the most superior films examining the AIDS crisis, while the best work of the late Patrice Chéreau (especially 1983's L'Homme blessé) narrowly missed the final selection.

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Where are the lesbians? That's a valid inquiry, as French cinema is especially robust in sapphic cinema. Unfortunately, groundbreaking films like Club de femmes (1936) and Olivia (1950) aren't easily accessible in the UK, though hopefully, a curated listing will surface in the future.

Director: Jean Genet

French author Jean Genet, is a central figure within the LGBTQ community, whose novels (including Querelle of Brest), plays, and essays have been lauded by both gay and straight readers alike. His singular venture into film was never intended for viewing outside a small group of intellectuals, yet it has since been restored and issued on DVD. This is a captivating fantasy set within a men's prison, where passion, longing, and carnal desire permeate every cell. The cast consists of non-professionals Genet knew personally.

Its scenes of nudity and self-stimulation led to numerous bans and edits over the course of many decades. Ironically, its most famous erotic sequences involves two clothed men who never physically touch, as one exhales cigarette smoke through the cell wall into the mouth of his fellow. It had a considerable impact on subsequent cinema portraying queer desire, especially Rainer Werner Fassbinder's adaptation of Querelle (1982).

Director: Jean Cocteau

Jean Cocteau is another seminal figure within LGBTQIA+ history. Whilst he was a celebrated poet, artist, and author, his distinctive films constitute the most vital part of his legacy, in particular, his gothic adaptation of the Beauty and the Beast fairytale, La Belle et la Bête (1946), and his lyrical modernization of the Greek myth of Orpheus, taking place in modern-day Paris. Whilst the romantic relationships are heterosexual, the iconic imagery is undeniably queer.

Cocteau casts his ex-lover Jean Marais as Orphée, who attracts the romantic interest of a woman in black, soon revealed to be Death. After she claims the life of his wife, he must brave the underworld to ensure her return. The camera's prolonged gaze over the handsome male actors, the theme of departing a conventional reality to venture into a realm beyond societal norms, and, most notably, the leather-clad bikers who accompany death on her reaping expeditions, earmark this work as a significant queer effort.

Director: Jacques Demy

File this one under ‘queer sensibility.' In the most extravagant of Jacques Demy's films, he generates an infectiously cheerful musical where all have fun. Catherine Deneuve and Françoise Dorléac are the ladies of the title, in pursuit of affection in the sunny coastal town of Rochefort. But will any of the attractive men on offer fall for their charms?

There's nothing explicitly homosexual here, but any movie that places Jacques Perrin in a sailor suit, squeezes George Chakiris into tight white trousers and decorates itself with extravagant, lurid sets undoubtedly has a queer sensibility. Its unending good nature isn't for the perpetually grumpy, yet it's a cold heart that cannot find joy in Gene Kelly's unexpected cameo, or the sight of Deneuve in elbow-length gloves, chain-smoking while taking a chicken out of the oven (believe us, it's amazing).

Director: Édouard Molinaro

'Une comédie très gay' smirked the tagline for this blockbuster. This frenetic farce, adapted from a play by Jean Poiret and remade as The Birdcage (1996) and a long-running musical, is the epitome of camp, and a clear inspiration for later drag comedies, such as The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert (1994). Renato, a nightclub owner, and Albin/Zaza, a flamboyant drag queen, host the former's son, his fiancée, and her extremely conventional parents. The son desires to exclude Albin, fearing to offend his future in-laws, but Albin harbors differing notions.

It rapidly became the most lucrative foreign-language film ever at the American box office, and director Édouard Molinaro, the screenplay, and the remarkable costumes were all Oscar-nominated. Michel Serrault's Zaza dominates - and demands - the spotlight throughout, and the set pieces continue to scintillate, most notably the uproarious final soirée. Individuals seeking 'straight-acting men, no time wasters' are not invited to this party. And they're missing out.

Director: Bertrand Blier

There's something to offend everyone in Bertrand Blier's hilarious comedy. A long-suffering spouse (Michel Blanc) and his spiteful wife (Miou-Miou) get into a furious argument in a restaurant, when a clumsy burglar (Gérard Depardieu) intervenes, strikes the woman, and gets entwined in their relationship, taking them on his stealing endeavors. He has seduction in mind, however, to the growing shock of the husband, it is he, rather than his wife, whom the burglar targets. But persistence pays off, and political correctness is given another thrashing.

Blier's films frequently center around two inadequate men uniting against women (Les Valseuses, the Oscar-winning Get Out Your Handkerchiefs), and undertones of homosexuality have always lingered in the atmosphere. Here it's made overt, albeit in an occasionally homophobic context - the scenes where the husband is compelled to don women's clothing are especially uncomfortable. Nevertheless, its gleeful offensiveness is infectious, and the dynamic performances are exceptional, particularly from Blanc, who was awarded the best actor accolade at Cannes.

Director: François Ozon

Prior to his celebrated features (8 Women, Potiche, In the House), François Ozon was a renowned short filmmaker whose distinct work was the talk of film festivals worldwide. Une robe d'été is the most entertaining, a playful three-part comedy set during a summer vacation by the seaside. When Sébastien's effeminate performance to the song ‘Bang Bang' irritates Luc, his boyfriend, to the point of distraction, the latter proceeds to the beach for some uninhibited skinny dipping. There, he encounters Lucia, and unexpected polysexual attraction enters the equation. However, the summer dress in the title appears to save the day.

While Ozon's subsequent queer films were imbued with darker themes (Water Drops on Burning Rocks, Time to Leave), Une robe d'été is a magnum of fun champagne, where everyone is good at heart and all get laid. The summer dress becomes a symbol of acceptance - butch or femme, masculin ou feminin, it's a frothy lesson in sexual freedom and gender variance.

Director: Claire Denis

Only two films directed by women made it into Sight & Sound's latest roundup of the greatest films of all time - Chantal Akerman's feminist masterpiece Jeanne Dielman, 23 quai du commerce, 1080 Bruxelles (1975) and Claire Denis' Beau Travail (1999), a sweaty, somewhat-of-an adaptation of Herman Melville's Billy Budd. Denis Lavant portrays Sergeant Major Galoup, who supervises his troop in a remote garrison in East Africa. The arrival of the beautiful and charismatic Gilles threatens both his authority and his control over his sexuality, as an unrequited homoerotic attraction takes hold. Galoup responds with sadism, punishing the younger man for the unsettling new feelings he is experiencing.

Few female directors opt to set their films in an all-male setting (Kathryn Bigelow is a notable exception). Denis is captivated by the physicality of her subjects and converts military maneuvers into energetic tributes to the masculine form. The final scene, featuring Lavant dancing alone in a nightclub, is among the most unforgettable finales in French cinema.

Director: Catherine Breillat

Gay men despise and fear women, even more than heterosexual men. At the very least, that is the thesis of Anatomy of Hell, Catherine Breillat's extraordinary and shocking exploration of society's reaction to female sexuality. When a woman (Amira Casar) slashes her wrists in a gay bar, she challenges her homosexual rescuer (Italian porn star Rocco Siffredi) to spend four nights with her to 'watch me where I'm unwatchable'. Graphic sexual acts, a rake handle insertion, and the ingestion of menstrual blood follow. Overlook the cliché of the gay best friend, this guy can't stand women.

It's easy to laugh at the pretentious dialogue ('The elasticity of a boy's anus doesn't lie about the tightness of the lower intestines') and the assumption of misogyny may irritate male viewers, whether gay or straight. However, it solidifies Breillat as among the most truly provocative filmmakers of today. It exceeds her previous essays on female sexuality (the graphic Romance, the controversial À ma soeur!) to generate a genuinely one-of-a-kind viewing experience.

Director: Gaël Morel

This rarely-discussed film deserves far more attention. Directed by Gaël Morel (Our Paradise) and co-written by Christophe Honoré (Ma mère, Man at Bath), it recounts the narrative of three siblings. The initial segment spotlights the middle brother, a dropout ensnared in trouble with some thugs, the second on the former convict striving to reform, and the third on the youngest sibling, who initiates a relationship with another man. Only the concluding third is explicitly homosexual, but homoerotic tensions percolate throughout.

The majority of reviews highlight the showy performance of the frequently unclothed Nicolas Cazalé as the rebel without a discernible purpose in the initial chapter, yet the emotional heart lies in the final third, as Morel explores the complexities of the vulnerable gay youth who must choose between fraternal allegiance and a shot at romantic bliss. The final scene, underscored by weeping violins, is heartrendingly moving.

Director: Sébastien Lifshitz

Sébastien Lifshitz is best known for his gay features (Presque rien, Going South), but his most accomplished work to date is this revealing documentary in which gay men and women in their 60s and 70s discuss their lives and loves. While some share stories of repression, familial estrangement, and Catholic guilt, all are open, proud, and inspiring, from the infectiously enthusiastic lesbian activist to the nonagenarian bisexual shepherd unreservedly recounting his numerous sexual conquests. Moving archival footage from the 1960s exhibits pro-gay demonstrations - remarkably, many of the straight spectators support the liberal marches.

These witty, captivating, and courageous individuals paved the way for the freedom gay men and women now experience. Their disarming candor establishes an invaluable oral history, whilst their tales of persecution illustrate how far gay rights have advanced over the decades.