I don’t think every movie needs to be 2.5 hours long, and I feel like in contemporary cinema, that’s what’s going on. I think there’s so much beauty and brevity in short features. Travolta et moi, which you saw with me, is 68 minutes, absolutely fucking perfect film. So I just started looking at my favorite movies, and I was like, “Okay, what’s the number that all the films were gonna be less than? 99 minutes.”

I wanted to showcase filmmakers that could say a lot of great things, you know, in a shorter amount of time. Brevity is the soul of wit, as they say. I also wanted to play a lot of stuff that doesn’t get played often due to rights issues, or maybe it’s a little underground, because we’re a free admission series. And a huge part of it, for me, is building community in the New York City film world. I think that’s one of the best things about living here and going to the movies here. There’s real community, and I was like, how about instead of just hanging out outside the theater after, we watch a movie in a nightclub, and then we can all hang out and drink and dance and chat and network after.

So another part of the 99 Minutes philosophy is, we’re also interested in showcasing NYC filmmakers. For instance, I had my friend Shane Fleming premiere his new movie Ramonaland, in March, and then he also showed some short films by his friends that he had worked on. Basically, they all worked on one another’s movies. So we showed four of those films.

How long have you been doing this?

We did the first 99 Minutes screening in September of last year, so it’s been, I would say probably 10 months. We normally do it once a month. There have been a couple months where we’ve done two in a month, if something comes up. The first one actually got a lot more traction than I thought. I was kind of expecting only my friends to show up, and strangers showed up, and I was like, “What?” And yeah, it’s been growing ever since. We bring out a lot of guest programmers, so it’s been nice seeing the different crowds that come in and out.

How did you make this happen?

A friend of mine connected me to Julia Cook, who runs the programming at Nightclub 101, and I pitched the idea. She loved it. I can’t say enough great things about Nightclub 101. They’re awesome people, and everyone who works there is a creative person, and then they’ve given me a ton of creative freedom.

Have you done any programming work before this?

No.

Any plans to grow the series? If so, how?

I would love to do a 99 Minutes in another city. I would say L.A. and Paris are both places that I would love to do it. I would love to lean into the community-building aspect of it. I have some more plans, but can’t talk about them publicly. It’s been very fun, so I look forward to seeing it grow.

Earlier, you said you’ve directed some movies. Can you tell us about those?

I directed my first short film, Envelopes, in the summer of 2024 with one of my really good friends, Alex Baker. I had always wanted to make a movie. I didn’t think it was ever possible. And then some of my friends started making movies, and I was like, okay, like this is closer than I thought.

Alex and I had always talked about making a film together, and then finally, I was like, we’re just gonna set a date to film, and the rest will come from there. So I got the idea for the movie after we had set the date. We made it in one weekend at my parents’ house. My dad was, like, driving us around locations because I don’t drive.

Then I made my second film, Carnelian, this past summer, and released that in March. Once again, really small crew—me, Alex, and another friend of mine who acted in it. I love how working with a small crew allows you to be super nimble. And if it’s friends, these are all people that you feel comfortable with, especially if you’re acting too. But yeah, before that, I was a photographer, so I do feel like a lot of my work kind of stems from my photography background.

Do you have any plans to direct another?

Yeah, I’m working on my next short film. We’re gonna shoot in September, and that is gonna be my first film with sound.

Oh, exciting. So the others were silent? Did you even use music?

Not even any music, just supposed to be soundtracked by the ambient noises of the environment. Second film, I’m so lucky, a composer friend of mine, Will Martin, did the score. It’s beautiful, so you know, I feel like I’m someone who likes to learn by doing. I’m always like, just start. So this has been kind of my own little film school. So now this is the first one where we’re recording sound, which is, you know, it’s expensive. It’s a whole other layer. But I’m excited. I’m working with local NYC actors, some non-actors. A wonderful friend of mine is going to DP it, and we’re gonna shoot on location in NYC, and I’m super excited.

Is there anything else you want Film Sense readers to know about 99 Minutes?

I would say, come through, it’s really fun. It’s a casual atmosphere, a great way to see a movie. If you want to meet other people who are in the film world, I always try to facilitate mingling and connections. Yeah, it’s not that serious, you know? Watching movies with your friends and having fun.

Nightclub 101 is located at 101 Avenue A, New York, NY. The next film in the series, Dark Skull, screens on Wednesday, July 8.

De Palma: Summer of Suspense (June 12 - Aug 29)

This retrospective honoring the New Hollywood auteur will run until the end of August. Heavily influenced by Alfred Hitchcock, De Palma has spent most of his career exploring movie suspense in thrillers like Dressed to Kill (1980), Blow Out (1981), Snake Eyes (1998), and more. Even his 1983 remake of the gangster classic Scarface is brimming with suspense that only escalates as Tony Montana increasingly becomes paranoid and distrustful of those around him. Learn more about the retrospective here.

Culture Wars (June 26 - July 11)

The U.S. culture wars seem neverending. A new threat to American society seems to pop up every few years: gays, trans people, undocumented immigrants, Latinos, the Black community, and more have all been subjected to unnecessary hatred by the right—and it’s only gotten worse. But when did this cycle begin? That’s the question that cultural critic, film historian, and author Isaac Butler tackles in his new book, The Perfect Moment: God, Sex Art, and the Birth of American Culture Wars.

While the election of Ronald Reagan in 1980 officially killed the anything goes, free love era of the 1970s, Butler argues that it was 1988, the last year of his presidency, when the end of the Cold War was in sight that Americans began turning on each other. The Moral Majority were increasingly gaining power, AIDS was killing thousands, and the First Lady was encouraging everyone to just say no to drugs.

Politicians like Jesse Helms, Pat Buchanan, and Pat Robertson were on a mission to “clean up” avant-garde cinema and popular art—especially if that art had received government funding. They started attacking the most controversial at first—Andres Serrano, Robert Mapplethorpe, David Wojnarowicz, and Karen Finley, before moving on to the bold, new voices of the New Queer Cinema movement—Todd Haynes, Cheryl Dunye, Marlon Riggs, and Gregg Araki. They even attacked Martin Scorsese for The Last Temptation of Christ (1988). The “Culture Wars” retrospective will be screening some of these controversial films. Learn more here.

Summer Saturdays with Dolby Atmos (Jul 25 - Aug 29)

Last year MoMI’s Redstone Theater’s audio system underwent a major renovation, featuring Dolby Atmos surround sound capability. With 63 output channels, featuring Dolby speakers and amplification, the theater is an even better place to watch—and hear—movies. To celebrate, MoMI is presenting a new series of movies mixed or re-released in Dolby Atmos. The Museum will screen a different film to commemorate the new sound system, featuring Mad Max Fury Road, First Man and more.

New York Stories (ongoing)

Once described by Robert De Niro as the most cinematic city in the world, New York City has been a muse to many directors throughout film history. From the silent era to the 1950s eruption of on-location filmmaking to the gritty 1970s, there’s never been an era where filmmakers in NYC weren’t pumping out films. This retrospective presents films that were made in the five boroughs.

This month’s New York story is Susan Seidelman’s Smithereens (1982), her first film before directing Madonna in Desperately Seeking Susan (1985). Starring Susan Berman and Television frontman Richard Hell, Smithereens follows Wren (Berman) as she makes her exodus from New Jersey to the promised land of NYC, where she aims to join what was left of the punk scene. Finding her first friend in the scene boring, she eventually meets Eric (Hell). After it’s too late, she realizes she might have gotten more than she bargained for because he might be a little too dangerous for her liking. In Smithereens, Seidelman captured the grit of 1980s NYC, when Alphabet City was lawless and could pass for a bombed-out European city during WWII.

Las Premieres (ongoing)

In collaboration with the NYC-based distributor of Mexican cinema Cinema Tropical, Las Premieres offers New Yorkers the monthly opportunity to catch Latin American titles before they”re in theaters or on streaming. This month’s screening is Ritas, a personal portrait of Brazilian music icon Rita Lee told in her own words through her final, previously unseen interview.

Song & Dance (ongoing)

Free for Museum members, this series presents a wide selection of films from across history and the globe, honoring movies that feature music and dancing. Showcasing more than just classic Hollywood musicals, this retrospective highlights Bollywood, experimental musical films, concert movies, and documentaries.

Also a part of De Palma: Summer of Suspense, Phantom of the Paradise is this month’s Song & Dance screening. Set in the world of glam rock, Phantom of the Paradise merges The Phantom of the Opera with Faust. Not only did Paul Williams star in the cult classic as a songwriter seeking revenge on a malevolent music mogul, he also wrote the music.

Originally from New York City, Bressan moved to San Francisco in 1969, after he decided to live his life as an openly gay man—three years before Harvey Milk made the same decision. He found the gay mecca of the 1970s to be ripe with inspiration. His first feature, Passing Strangers (1974), follows young Robert (Robert Adams) after he answers a personal ad in the newspaper for the first time and meets up with an older man, Tom (Robert Carnagey). A tender coming-of-age film, Passing Strangers captures the milieu of bohemian post-Stonewall San Francisco, where sex is liberating and anything goes.

His next film was a feature-length documentary called Gay USA (1977) that detailed the ’70s gay rights movement and documented pride marches around the country, making him the first gay director to tackle the subject. Upon its release, Gay USA didn’t do well at the box office. Bressan claimed in 1979 that despite his marketing efforts, he didn’t make a cent from the documentary. Gay USA suffered from comparisons to Word Is Out: Stories of Some of Our Lives, which had its premiere at the Castro Theatre in 1977. In the August 1979 issue of Alternate: The American Magazine of Sexual Politics, Edward Guthmann described Word Is Out as “much more palatable, slick, straight-oriented, pretty, and safe.”

Gay USA depicts the passion, anger, and defiant optimism of the queer community, which was under attack by the homophobic right. Hate crimes weren’t uncommon, California’s anti-gay Briggs Initiative had just been announced, and Anita Bryant successfully campaigned to repeal the Miami-Dade County, Florida ordinance that prohibited discrimination based on sexual orientation. After being beautifully restored by the UCLA Film & Television Archive in collaboration with Frameline and Outfest, Gay USA has been reevaluated and secured a spot in queer film history next to Word Is Out.

After tackling the documentary genre, Bressan returned to his roots, making another gay pornographic love story with Forbidden Letters (1979). He cast Robert Adams again, and this time, Bressan paired him with Richard Locke, who was described by Honcho magazine as the “daddy of us all.” Larry (Adams) tries to pass the time on the day that his older lover, Richard (Locke), is set to be released from prison. He attempts to distract himself with casual sex, but when that doesn’t work, he reads through the forbidden letters he didn’t send Richard while he was in prison. He didn’t want to deny their love by addressing Richard by a woman’s name, but if he sent them with Richard’s, that might cause problems for him in the clink. As it gets closer and closer to the time of Richard’s release, Larry wonders how he will feel when he sees Richard again.

Upon its release in 1979, Forbidden Letters got stunning reviews. Gay Times magazine declared that it was “the most believable and beautiful gay film we have seen,” while Data-Boy claimed it “may well be the best X-rated film ever made.” Still, that didn’t mean Bressan didn’t get some flack for the romantic nature of his films. Certain audience members felt that the schmaltzy elements of his movies diluted the impact and sexual heat of a good skin flick. In the August 1979 issue of Alternate, Guthmann wrote that “certainly, his films would sell better were he to inject them with a harder stripe of sexuality.” But that didn’t deter the strong-willed Bressan. “I’m not interested in the traditional jack-off porno framework. It’s too easy,” he asserted in the Alternate article. He liked a challenge, but as a true cinephile, Bressan sought to make well-crafted movies. Forbidden Letters is undoubtedly one of the highlights of Bressan’s career. With tender performances, sophisticated camerawork, and a compelling story, it’s as legitimate as any non-pornographic film, just with unstimulated sex scenes.

In the early 1980s, Bressan moved back to NYC, where he continued to direct. He released two films in 1984: Juice and Daddy Dearest. In Juice, a lonely photographer (Michael Christopher) who works for a gay magazine meanders around NYC, as he searches for models while mooning over a beautiful jogger (Butch La Cross) he once shot. Daddy Dearest follows Edward Thompson (Daniel Holt) as a gay filmmaker hard at work on his newest project about a pair of college boys who want to hook up with an older man (again, Richard Locke). But the memories of Edward’s ex and his fantasies of a couple he spies on begin to bleed into the action happening on set.

Released months before the groundbreaking TV movie An Early Frost, Bressan’s last film was Buddies (1985), making it the first feature film to tackle the AIDS crisis. Robert (Geoff Edholm) is a gay man from San Francisco dying of the disease in a New York City hospital room. Isolated from his community in the Bay Area, he is wasting away when David (David Schachter), a local younger man, becomes his buddy. This buddy system was a program started by Gay Men’s Health Crisis (GMHC) to assist AIDS patients as they were dying. Many of those afflicted were abandoned by their families after their HIV+ diagnosis, and hospital staff could be heartless.

The two men are at different points in their lives. David has accepting parents and is in a monogamous relationship. Robert, however, was kicked out for being gay by his parents and was involved in the gay liberation politics of 1970s San Francisco. His worldview is totally shaped by those experiences. Robert and David represent their respective city’s attitude: The gay community in San Francisco was organized, led by Harvey Milk, and with his leadership, it defeated the Briggs Initiative. NYC’s gay community didn’t come together until after the AIDS crisis; instead, the momentum gained from Stonewall fell off as the gay sexual revolution of the 1970s began. As David and Robert get closer, David finds it hard to accept that Robert will die—and soon. Buddies is devoid of self-pity, sentimentality, and serves as a call to action, while still remaining sex-positive. It’s an amazing feat, remaining one of the best films made about the AIDS crisis.

After witnessing friends die of AIDS, Bressan was clear-eyed enough to know that Buddies could be his last film. He told queer film historian Vito Russo in an interview for The Celluloid Closet that “if Buddies turns out to be my last film, it’ll be a fine way to go.” Two years after the premiere of Buddies at the Castro Theatre in San Francisco, Arthur Bressan passed away of AIDS-related complications at the age of 44. He once stated that he wanted to be honest about gay life and sexuality, and looking at his body of work, it’s safe to say that he’d achieved his goal.

When asked by Edward Guthmann in a 1979 Alternate article how Bressan thought his films would be perceived in the future, he answered:

“They’ll always say my films are romantic. They’ll probably say I was fumbling at first, not sure what I wanted to say. They’ll say I was obsessed with saying something about the gay experience. And if they have their eyes open, they’ll know that I was in love with making movies.”

Through Bressan’s filmography, viewers can trace how gay life changed throughout the 1970s and ’80s—from Passing Strangers’ depiction of the happy days of post-Stonewall liberation in San Francisco to the dreary days of AIDS and Reaganism in the smoggy 1980s NYC-set Buddies. Arthur Bressan succeeded in making more than just mere jerk-off material, and he presents a unique and vital body of work that all cinephiles can appreciate.

During the 1970s, Christine (Leslie Azzoulai) lives an idyllic French existence: Her parents run a bakery in the Champagne region, and she spends much of her time gushing over John Travolta, hot off the success of Saturday Night Fever. All that changes when she meets Nicolas (Julien Gerin) on a bus. After flirting, they agree to meet the next day in front of his school. Christine’s parents throw a wrench in her plans when they decide to take a trip to Vichy that day, leaving her to run the bakery in their absence. She gets her friend to tell Nicolas what happened, but he pretends that he doesn’t know what she’s talking about and shows up at the bakery anyway.

In true fuckboy fashion, Nicolas spends much of his screen time messing with her head, while Christine yearns for him like the immature moonstruck teenager she is; her carnal desire for Nicolas has eclipsed her love for Travolta. Forgetting all about the Fever heartthrob, Christine has found a new obsession in Nicolas and will do anything to be with him.

Travolta et moi aptly depicts how insane a first crush can make you feel and how it makes you want to set yourself on fire. Audiences might find themselves laughing—or cringing—at Christine, since first experiences with love are no laughing matter, portraying the irrational intensity of it.

Mazuy collaborated with cinematographer Eric Gautier, a master of capturing teenage angst. Deciding on a simple visual approach, the two created a melodramatic French take on a teen love story with shocking twists that will stun viewers.

The film charts Byrd’s life through the ages. We learn of her upbringing as an adopted child and a self-proclaimed “daddy’s girl.” Following the death of her father, a young Robin hits the road, fully embracing the era’s hippie lifestyle—even sleeping in Central Park for a few nights. Decades later, that same park serves as her urban haven, where she’s seen walking her beloved Yorkie, Om Om. Byrd’s early career included a stint as a porn actress (appearing in 13 films, including the 1978 classic Debbie Does Dallas), but it was her transition to the small screen that cemented her legacy—all while wearing her infamous black crocheted bikini.

Through a vibrant mix of past and present interview segments, Byrd reminisces about the wild origins of The Robin Byrd Show, which broadcasted its unique brand of adult entertainment into New York City homes on Channel J from 1977 to 1998. Inside her Upper East Side apartment, we watch Byrd sort through the physical detritus of her trailblazing career, including a vast archive of more than 600 tapes of episodes of the show.

As a woman who created, produced, and directed her own show, Byrd was the OG boss lady. While her longtime husband, Shelly, encourages her to hold on to the footage, fellow adult film legend Annie Sprinkle convinces Byrd of the historical relevance of her work. Reluctantly, Byrd travels to Brooklyn to meet with an archivist to preserve her legacy for future generations.

The documentary highlights how Byrd quickly became a pop-culture phenomenon, leading to high-profile talk show appearances with Joan Rivers and Phil Donahue, and eventually earning the ultimate late-night badge of honor: a Saturday Night Live parody featuring Cheri Oteri. An impressive roster of talking heads—including Sandra Bernhard, Michael Musto, Heather Hunter, and Bob Morris—discuss her groundbreaking work and the impact it has had on others.

Bang My Box is distinctly told through a female lens. Women directors Schwam and Gunther brilliantly unpack Byrd’s role as a fierce advocate for “pornformers,” constantly defending their right to dance, expose their bodies, and celebrate their sexuality. When media conglomerate Time Warner attempted to silence her by scrambling the signal of Channel J, Byrd transformed into a literal warrior. The film treats us to thrilling archival footage of Byrd picketing outside the Time & Life building, fighting a free-speech battle she ultimately won.

Beyond the politics of censorship, the film also portrays Byrd as a savvy businesswoman. She eventually figured out how to monetize the show through late-night phone lines, using the profits to buy her house on Fire Island, where she still lives with her husband. It’s here that the documentary finds its emotional anchor. The filmmakers tenderly delve into her 50-year relationship with Shelly, who is currently navigating the advancing stages of dementia. Yet, through it all, their “two crazy kids in love” vibe remains unbroken.

At a Q&A session following the premiere, Byrd said that other offers to make a documentary of her life have come and gone, mostly because “the energy wasn’t right.” This time, all the pieces fell into place, making for an entertaining and joyous romp through a life well lived. In the final moments, after a surprise sunrise reveal on the beach, Byrd shares that all she ever wanted to do was make people happy and share love. Mission: accomplished!

Bang My Box: The Robin Byrd Story premieres on HBO and HBO Max on June 30.

Ingram chronicles two bars in Mississippi: Rumors in Shannon and Crossroads/Different Seasons in Meridian. The owners know that by running a gay bar in these areas, it puts a target on their backs. They have to follow every rule in the book because if they don’t, they could be closed down, which happens to Crossroads over a minor incident. When the owner returned from prison, he found the property stripped of everything. A few years later, a lesbian couple decided to revive Crossroads, giving it a new life as Different Seasons. When the gay residents of Shannon learn that the owner of Rumors has plans to sell, they’re concerned: What if the bar closes down? It would mean people might have to drive two hours to Memphis just to find freedom and be themselves.

These bars are crucial spaces where members of the tight-knit queer community could relax, find each other, dance, have sex, and find a life partner. In these spaces, all genders and races could be found: gay men, lesbians, trans people, drag queens, Black and white. In rural communities where the overall population is already small (often less than 2,000), and the gay community even smaller, people see the bigger picture, so they put their differences aside and are there for one another. The owners weren’t doing it for profit but to give back.

Six years after the killing of Matthew Shepard, Ingram visits Bay Minette, Alabama, to document a little known but equally disturbing hate crime: the murder of Scotty Joe Weaver. The gay 18-year-old was tied to a chair in his home and was then beaten, strangled, and stabbed numerous times by his roommates. His killers then dragged his body out into a field and set it on fire. Four days later, his partially decomposed remains were found by a man driving an all-terrain vehicle. Ingram interviews Weaver’s older brother, Lum, who is also gay. Despite Scotty’s slaughter, Lum talked about how he couldn’t hate the people who did this to his brother: To do so would fill the world with even more hate, and Scotty wouldn’t want that.

At the Q&A after the screening, drag performer and filmmaker Peaches Christ said that she respects the gay people of small towns who stay and don’t leave. “It’s like what Harvey Milk said: ‘To know you, it’s harder to hate you.’ And so with those folks staying in those communities, they’re really changing the minds of the people who live there.” Ingram recalled that gay men and women were more active in the early 2000s than the 20 years before or the 20 years since. “We just happened to catch this moment,” he said. “The movie is all about little miracles. When you make a movie, you want to weave it. You don’t want to stitch it.”

Peaches claimed that she couldn’t have become her drag-sona if she hadn’t started her career in San Francisco, and that if she’d lived in a town like Bay Minette, she might not even be alive today. She wondered to Ingram, Why don’t they leave and move to a bigger city? “I asked twice,” he said, “and the people got so offended when I asked it, I never asked again. Because the answer is, It’s our home. Why do we have to leave? We’re not leaving. They’re not going to make us leave.”

Ingram discussed the lack of support he’s faced from gays in the big city and declared, “It’s not a fucking community anymore. It’s just not.” Peaches agreed: “I think that is actually a really astute observation that those of us who live in these big places have a lot to enjoy, but there is a loss of togetherness sometimes that I yearn for. Back in the days of my early coming out and going to places where it was men, women, trans folks, nonbinary, Black, white, everyone, old, young, religious, not religious, punk.”

Now, there are bars for every flavor of queer, and it actually alienates people instead of bringing them together. “Voices need to be heard, and I don’t want to take away from that, but instead of adding more letters to the acronym, maybe we need to start taking them away and kind of look at us all as a whole,” Ingram declared. “And obviously all voices need to be heard. I certainly don’t want to do an ‘All Lives Matter’ thing, but it’s just kind of, like, we need to get together because we have everything to lose if we don’t have each other’s backs.”

The director also gave an update of what’s happened to these small town gay bars in the 20 years since he documented them. Rumors is now a church (!), and Crossroads/Different Seasons doesn’t exist anymore. It closed down, and homophobes burnt it twice to ensure that queer joy could never happen on the property again. “You wouldn’t even know it was there,” Ingram said.

Monday night’s screening was dedicated to Ash Christian, who was like Ingram’s younger brother and helped him fund his films. He passed away of COVID.

Ingram plans to bring Small Town Gay Bar across the country to raise money for queer people in rural communities, so they can afford to be tested for HIV. In small, remote areas such as these, there’s a fee to be tested, closing access to many individuals.

Small Town Gay Bar offers a glimpse into what life is like as a gay or gender nonconforming person in rural, remote areas of the Deep South. Some progress has been made, but sadly, there is still a lot of work to be done.

After seeing a screenshot of the backrooms creepypasta on Instagram, Parsons was inspired to create a found-footage-style animated short, uploading it to his YouTube channel in 2022. The web series quickly became a success, leading Parsons to direct the feature-length version.

The film adaptation of Backrooms centers on Clark (Chiwetel Ejiofor), a middle-aged alcoholic in therapy after his divorce, and Mary Kline (Renate Reinsve), his therapist. After failing as an architect, Clark is the owner of a furniture business, where he works and lives. One night, he finds a portal to the backrooms in the store’s basement.

A24’s Backrooms is an effective horror film with some striking imagery, charming sets, and beautiful cinematography. But the film is at its weakest when it attempts to explain or justify the existence of the backrooms, instead of just letting characters explore the liminal space. The characters are hollow and one-dimensional; the fresh-faced Parsons is out of his depth writing characters twice his age, even with Will Soodik as a co-writer. Yet, Backrooms proves that young directors are capable of taking film in a new direction that appeals to young audiences while producing hits.

Despite her stardom, Keaton has always felt like an unpretentious everywoman, someone who’s easy to relate to on-screen. When the viewer is first introduced to Kay, she’s charming and outgoing. Both her demeanor and appearance are a contrast to the Corleone women: Her bright orange dress stands out against the pastel pinks and purples worn by the wedding party. Even Michael relaying a disturbing story about the family business isn’t enough to dampen her spirits, though it’s clear she initially assumes he’s kidding. In director Francis Ford Coppola’s own notes on Connie’s wedding, he emphasizes that Kay serves as the audience stand-in. Like her, we’re naive yet curious about the world we’re slowly being introduced to by Michael. Of course, Keaton’s natural chemistry with Pacino no doubt elevated their performances.

Keaton plays Kay as the charming lovestruck girlfriend at the beginning of Part I, eagerly buying Christmas gifts for Michael’s family and making quips about their viewing of The Bells of St. Mary’s (1945). By the time Michael returns from his exile in Sicily and proposes to Kay, their reunion after years of silence is hardly romantic. The frustration and desperation Kay feels only intensifies throughout her marriage to Michael. Keaton is an integral part of the first film’s iconic closing scene where Kay looks into Michael’s office with a striking expression of heartbreak and confusion before the door is closed on her. This scene is one that’s been examined, referenced, and parodied countless times since audiences first witnessed it, and it owes much of its poignancy to Keaton.

Reprising her role as Kay for Part II, several years have passed since the end of the first film. Kay and Michael hardly live in marital bliss, though she is pregnant with their third baby. The strain only deepens when machine guns rain bullets into their family home in an attempt on Michael’s life. While comforting their kids, Kay delivers Michael a death glare that undoubtedly signals the beginning of the end. Keaton silently communicates Kay’s justified rage toward her husband, his lies, and the effect his lifestyle has had on their children. Her anger seeps through the screen, signaling she’s about to reach her breaking point—one that still shocks audiences to this day.

While Kay doesn’t have many scenes in Part II, she’s responsible for one of the most haunting aspects of Michael’s arc. Keaton’s gut-wrenching delivery when Kay reveals to Michael that she had an abortion reflects her dramatic abilities, as this scene is one of the most memorable (and controversial) of the trilogy. A woman with close to no autonomy, Kay deliberately having an illegal abortion is no doubt a desperate act, yet a powerful one as she tearfully confesses, “It was an abortion. An abortion, Michael. Just like our marriage is an abortion. Something that’s unholy and evil.”

Abortion has always been a hot topic, but with Part II’s release in 1974—a year after the Supreme Court ruled on Roe v. Wade—it was undoubtedly fresh in the public consciousness when theatergoers watched the film. Keaton’s performance in this scene is nothing short of earth-shattering, as the gravity of Kay’s decision and rawness of her anger take Michael by surprise. Pacino’s portrayal of the typically calm and collected Don—the title he inherited after his father Vito’s death—losing his temper complements Keaton in one of the most breathtakingly tense confrontations on-screen. Keaton cements Kay as more than just a desperate girlfriend or a submissive housewife, but a woman with startlingly real thoughts, feelings, and ambitions.

In 2023, Francis Ford Coppola held an ask-me-anything session on Instagram. One of the questions that came in was from Keaton herself, asking the director why he chose her to be in The Godfather. His response says it all: “I chose you, because although you were to play the more straight/vanilla wife, there was something more about you, deeper, funnier, and very interesting. (I was right).”

It was this reputation that got Keaton one of her first major film roles as Kay Adams in Francis Ford Coppola’s The Godfather (1972). Coppola had seen her in Lovers and Other Strangers (1970) and cast her because he wanted Kay to have Keaton’s quirky energy. It helped that she saw herself in Kay: Both had to navigate being a “woman in the world of men.”

Keaton had her breakout success as the lead in Woody Allen’s take on the romantic comedy in Annie Hall (1977), and she was, in some ways, playing herself as she was in the 1970s. And like Annie, she worried that she wasn’t pretty or smart enough, wondering why she seemed to be inept at love. She never married, instead having long-term relationships with Allen and Godfather co-star Al Pacino. Still, she didn’t regret not getting married, deciding that it wouldn’t have been a good idea for her to do so. Ever the eccentric, she became a mother at age 50 when she adopted daughter Dexter and son Duke.

Annie Hall established Keaton as a movie star, as well as an unlikely style icon. Some of the pieces she wore in the film came from her own wardrobe. Known for her tomboyish look, her costumes consisted mainly of vintage men’s clothing, including neckties, vests, baggy pants, and fedora hats. After the film’s release, many women were inspired to begin donning menswear. While her fashion choices evolved through the years (a turtleneck became one of her hallmarks), Keaton maintained her style icon status until the end.

Keaton was able to accomplish a near impossible feat for many women in the industry: She continued working well past her expiration date as an actress, playing parts with more meat than just the lead’s nondescript mother. She found success in romantic comedies, portraying women of a certain age. Keaton declared that Nancy Meyers’ Something’s Gotta Give (2003) was her favorite out of her stacked filmography. Keaton thrived in the rom com, a genre that usually doesn’t feature older women in a leading role. In 2018, she starred in Bill Holderman’s Book Club, along with fellow legends Jane Fonda, Candice Bergen, and Mary Steenburgen. Co-written by Holdermann and Erin Simms, the film was intended to be a love letter to Keaton’s work in the genre—it wasn’t just a coincidence that the character she plays is also named Diane.

She leaves behind an incredible body of work, spanning five decades. As Francis Ford Coppola said, “Words can’t express the wonder and talent of Diane Keaton.” She was a unique, unpretentious talent, who embraced age and was able to forge a career playing mature women.

A retrospective in Diane Keaton’s honor will begin at Film @ Lincoln Center, running from February 13–19. It includes The Godfather trilogy, Annie Hall, Something’s Gotta Give, Looking for Mr. Goodbar, and more. Learn more here.

Aidan Zamiri’s directorial debut, The Moment is not a concert film, nor is it a documentary. The fictionalized Charli grapples with how far she’s willing to sell out and cash in on her success. It satirizes how silly yet real everything gets: When she’s approached by fictional bank Howard Stirling to market credit cards to a younger, queer demographic, Charli thinks it’s a bit ridiculous, but she goes along with it anyway. Her lackadaisical attitude to the commitment eventually causes problems for her. The Moment reveals how “making it” creates a slew of new problems, and how hard it becomes not to lose sight of where you came from.

Mainstream success is something most pop stars strive toward, and Charli finally achieved it with her sixth album, especially after she tweeted “kamala IS brat.” But in the eye of the storm, she can’t appreciate the moment because she suddenly has a lot more people making demands of her, while receiving much more scrutiny and criticism from people who didn’t even know who she was before Brat. After entering the spotlight, she’s pressured into milking it for all that it’s worth, while wondering what she’ll do next.

More tension comes from director Johannes (Skarsgård), who doesn’t get Brat and wants to commercialize it, making it palatable for a family-friendly audience, which would alienate her core fan base. Skarsgård delivers the best performance (other than Charli), but the entire film is camp to Charli’s followers.

The Moment is a funny yet vulnerable satire, a perfect companion to Brat, with songs like “Sympathy is a knife” and “Girl, so confusing.” Charli is well aware that her critics want her to move on from Brat—you have to wonder how many people have left “girl, move on” in her comments—so it’s brat to keep sarcastically beating the dead horse. Charli and Zamiri could have gone the tried-and-true path of making another concert film or documentary, like Madonna’s Truth or Dare or Taylor Swift’s The Eras Tour, but they decided to do something riskier and more interesting in The Moment, satirizing its star and the brat summer phenomenon.

In addition to his horror credits, Kier is also associated with the German New Wave, notably appearing in Rainer Werner Fassbinder’s Berlin Alexanderplatz (1980), Lili Marleen (1981), and Lola (1981). The two had been friends since they were teenagers after meeting in a bar. Like Fassbinder, Kier was openly gay. He recalled in 2021 that “no one had ever asked. Maybe it was obvious, but it didn't make any difference because all that mattered was the role I was playing. As long as I did a good job on the part, no one cared about my sexuality.” Fassbinder and Kier had a complex friendship. The duo had a brief falling out after Kier turned down a role in Fox and His Friends, but they were soon friends again, even becoming roommates. Kier moved out when he realized Fassbinder “was burning himself up in such a destructive way. I didn’t want to be a part of it.” Two months later, the German director passed away from a drug overdose.

Later in his career, Kier started appearing in Latin American films, beginning in 2019 with the Dominican Holy Beasts (La fiera y la fiesta). That same year, he also appeared in Brazil’s acclaimed Western, Bacurau. Then, he appeared in an Israeli-Colombian co-production set in the 1960s, My Neighbor Adolf, about a Holocaust survivor who becomes convinced his next door neighbor is Hitler. His last role was in the Brazilian movie, The Secret Agent, the most awarded film at Cannes in 2025, in which he appears as a Holocaust survivor who sought refuge in the country but is mistaken for a Nazi.

Quad Cinema is honoring Udo Kier with a retrospective that runs from January 3–7 and includes Bacurau, Blood for Dracula, Flesh for Frankenstein, and Melancholia. Learn more here.

Marty is somehow always able to get whatever he wants. When things go wrong, he somehow comes out of the other side still smelling like a rose, while others might not fare so well. He’s an entitled asshole and a prick, a scammer destroying everyone in his path, whether it’s intentional or not, yet you’re still rooting for him. It’s easy to fall for his grift. Marty has an infectious self-confidence, narcissistically believing that he alone has a unique purpose, and he’s willing to do anything to fulfill it—literally. However, you don’t feel too bad for him when he gets humbled or humiliated—he deserves it—but he’s a big dreamer in the pursuit of greatness. Sacrifices will be made along the way, but Marty seems too willing to make them.

Chalamet and Gwyneth Paltrow—who plays fictional former movie star Kay Stone stuck in a loveless marriage to a powerful business tycoon played by Kevin O’Leary—have a fun, playful chemistry that makes you wish they had more screen time together. Odessa A’Zion is Rachel, Marty’s childhood sweetheart who’s since married someone else, but that doesn’t mean they don’t meet up for trysts. Marty and Rachel work great together as a couple of con artists. They’re a match made in heaven—or hell, depending on how you look at it.

Marty’s mother and uncle don’t understand what he wants to do and actively try to stop him, but he won’t let anything stand in his way. Fran Drescher is underused as Marty’s manipulative mother—it must run in the family. But this is about Marty’s desire to prove himself as a Ping-Pong player, and she’s standing in his way. Naturally, he wouldn’t spend too much time with her.

Josh Safdie’s first solo directorial effort post-breakup is an amazing feat. Marty Supreme will resonate with anyone who’s the black sheep with big dreams their family doesn’t understand.

Cigarette ashes, endless stacks of documents, and frizzy white curly hair introduce us to a woman who has aged prematurely due to the harshness of life. Socorro, portrayed by Luisa Huertas, an attorney with a striking face of frustration and distrust, has a fierce will to pursue justice, rather than lawfulness. Her expertise in handling Mexico’s ugliest—corruption and delinquency—and her friendly yet insulting and sexually suggestive wordplay make for a character with enough depth and complexity to fill every scene of the movie.

Our protagonist is stuck in a 57-year-long nationwide trauma. In 1968, Mexico was under the fascist administration of President Gustavo Díaz Ordaz, who tried to take control of public universities’ curricula and approved Mexico to host the Olympics despite the country’s unfavorable economic conditions. Student protestors organized a strike and marched, but they were cornered by the military armed forces. Snipers, tanks, and battalions killed more than 1,345 unarmed people. “We shall not be moved” was the student’s chant before the massacre started.

A revelation related to the tragedy triggers Socorro’s search for revenge in 2024, when the rest of the country has long moved on.

Overall, the film showcases pure Mexican authenticity through the characters’ personalities and the situations they are tangled in. Each one has their own insurmountable problem, and yet, in darkness, the movie is full of nods to Mexicans’ humor for real-world absurdity. Mixing pain or suffering with comedy is a common element in Mexican culture.

“If there is something that doesn’t help the story, I trim it,” said Saint-Martin on Thursday night’s Q&A at NYC’s Cinema Village. “I am not that person in real life; I’m an overthinker. But I have to be that when I’m making a movie.”

In his own words, the director’s experience working in television influenced his preference for tight shots, which he uses throughout the movie. This results in making the audience feel confronted by the unfavorable hand the characters are dealt, but it also creates a sense of intimacy. Both the fast pacing of the story and the tightness of the script show a clear cinematic vision.

“I don’t think about the audience until I’m editing,” said Saint-Martin. “When I do, it’s only to make sure the story can be understood. When I think about the aesthetic of the film, no. I just think of what is important for me, for what I want the movie to be.”

While Latin American cinema is often overlooked, Mexico has had a presence at the Academy Awards with Oscar winners Guillermo del Toro and Alfonso Cuarón, but Saint-Martin is a new face at this level of the industry. Filling an apartment with pigeons, throwing a corpse down a shaft, and transforming a 74-year-old actress into an intimidating mob boss is a clear sign of audacity that might just earn him a golden statue.

“In the film industry, having a tight budget is no excuse for making a bad movie,” said the director. “One has to do the best we can with as much money as we have and resign to what is not possible to achieve. You’ll never hear, ‘I don’t know what to do with all this money.’ People always want you to do more in less time than you say you need and with less money than you tell them you need.”

As a lawyer, Socorro helps exploited people get justice, and it’s through her career that she’s made valuable contacts to help accomplish her mission. One of these is Sidarta (José Alberto Patiño), who first came to her years ago when he was facing time in prison. Because of her, he was able to avoid that, and now, he’s become her handyman and almost like an adoptive son. Sidarta has put his dark past behind him, so when Socorro asks him to help her with her plan, he’s hesitant. With a wife and a daughter now, Sidarta understandably doesn’t want to destroy what he’s worked for, but Socorro convinces him to assist her. The unlikely duo embark on a dark adventure together, which takes the film in unexpected directions.

Shot in beautiful black and white, We Shall Not Be Moved is an impressive debut for Saint-Martin, who also co-wrote the screenplay with screenwriter Iker Compeán Leroux (also his first feature script). A chamber drama about unresolved family trauma, the film bounces between comedy and intense, emotionally charged scenes, yet you never feel exhausted by it. Luisa Huertas gives a tour-de-performance as the determined and irascible Socorro, for which she was honored with Ariel Best Actress Award earlier this year. José Alberto Patiño is a breakout star as the quirky yet haunted Sidharta, earning him Best Breakthrough Performance at the Ariel Awards. It’s exciting to see what this cast and crew of newcomers will do next.

If the 1960s was a decade of crucial cultural change, the 1940s was a decade of major industrial transformation. The death of President Franklin D. Roosevelt, the horror of the Holocaust, the graphic brutality of combat, and the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki all happened within a few years. Also, some of film noir’s pessimism might be attributed to the fact that many classical Hollywood stars and directors were refugees of Nazi Germany, such as Billy Wilder, Fritz Lang, Douglas Sirk, Ernst Lubitsch, Conrad Veidt, Peter Lorre, and more. Directors brought with them a German Expressionist influence on American cinema. Noir’s harsh lighting contrasted with deep shadows brings to mind the chiaroscuro of 1920s German Expressionism, like The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (1920) and Nosferatu (1922). As a result, American cinema became darker—literally and figuratively.

If these aspects weren’t scary enough, women created another conflict, as they provided only minimal comfort to men. While femme fatales are often considered to be a manifestation of men’s postwar gender anxieties, women had been scaring the hell out of men for a while. Many noir films are adaptations of novels that were published 10 years prior, during the Great Depression. Still, there was something intimidating about the postwar woman. She had lived through the Great Depression, so she had learned to take care of herself a long time ago. She didn’t need a man to do it for her. These newly self-sufficient women also saw most of the men they grew up with go to war, leaving them alone on the homefront, and many never came back. If they did, they were never the same physically and/or mentally.

The femme fatale is one of the most well-known aspects of film noir: the spider woman who is willing to do anything to get what she wants, even if it includes bringing down someone else—usually a clueless man—with her. Yet, some of these spider women are not so wicked—some are even sympathetic, such as Lana Turner’s Cora Smith in The Postman Always Rings Twice (1946). But many women in these films are straight up evil—like Barbara Stanwyck’s Phyllis Dietrichson in Double Indemnity (1944) and Veda, Joan Crawford’s vicious daughter in Mildred Pierce (1945).

But as the 1950s gave way to the ’60s, film noir faded, as the postwar pessimism subsided, but it returned in the equally cynical ’70s and ’80s as neo noir. This version of noir features some of the same elements—a conniving woman bringing an unsuspecting man down with her—but for a new audience with different concerns. In the wake of Watergate and MK-Ultra, the 1970s were paranoid, and after Reagan, the ’80s were bleak. A naive Kyle MacLachlan confronts the dark underbelly of small town America in Blue Velvet (1986), while in Thief (1981), a weary James Caan is a noir anti-hero for the ’80s who gets in over his head after making a deal with a powerful gangster. Perhaps the state of our current times will give rise to an updated version of noir for a new generation.

Quad Cinema and Angelika at Village East are observing Noirvember with weekly screenings of both classic and neo noir, including Double Indemnity (1944), Out of the Past (1947), Chinatown (1973), Blue Velvet (1986), and more.

Learn more

• Noirvember at the Quad

• Angelika at Village East

Hellraiser (1987) | Runtime: 1hr 34min / Rated: R

Upon its release in 1987, Hellraiser launched a major horror franchise that consists of 11 films total, each one more ridiculous than the last, but nothing beats the original movie that started it all. Based on Barker’s novella, Hellraiser follows sexual deviant Frank (Sean Chapman) on the hunt for the greatest erotic experience. During his search, he finds a mysterious puzzle box that, when solved, causes sex demons from hell (the Cenobites) to descend upon him and abscond with his soul. Afterward, Frank’s brother, Larry (Andrew Robinson), moves into their childhood home with his wife, Julia (Claire Higgins), and daughter, Kirsty (Ashley Laurence), the same place where Frank had called the Cenobites to him. The pleasures of hell prove too much for brother Frank, so he does the impossible: He escapes from the Cenobites! But what does this mean for Larry, Julia, and Kirsty, the new occupants?

Hellraiser has always had a place in the horror canon, especially the queer one, because as Barker knows, he was validating a lifestyle that isn’t seen onscreen much—probably for good reason. The Cenobites aren’t the real villains. They’re just doing what they’re called to do, and as one of the Cenobites claims, they can’t return to hell alone once the puzzle box is solved. Baroque and serious as the film is, there is a campiness to Hellraiser, albeit a dark one, that most viewers might be unfamiliar with, but that makes seeing it even more worthwhile.

Cruising (1980) / Runtime: 1hr 42min / Rated: R

Friedkin’s Cruising doesn’t seem like it should exist. It stars Al Pacino as a sexually ambiguous undercover cop tasked with solving the murders of gay men in the Village. As he becomes more embroiled in the rough trade scene of the leather and Levi bars, he loses sight of who he is—or maybe he’s discovering himself. As he discovers the joys of poppers and learns the meaning behind the various hanky colors and their placements, he begins to embrace this strange world—the one that inspired Hellraiser. Our hero’s journey into the grim underbelly of gay S&M has changed him, and his heterosexual existence in the “real world” becomes a bore in comparison.

That Cruising was even produced is fascinating because it couldn’t have come any earlier or later. It’s hard to imagine a studio giving this film the greenlight five years before, at the height of the post-Stonewall gay liberation movement, or five years later, after the AIDS crisis had begun. The pandemic caused the shut down of many of the venues that inspired the ones we see in Cruising. Still, it wasn’t without controversy—ironically from gay men who felt that the film portrayed them in a negative light. Nevertheless, Cruising captures a brief moment: one in which there was enough interest in such a film for a studio to make it, and the leather scene that would be upended by AIDS only a year later.

Sex Demon (1975) | Runtime: 1hr | Rated: X

Considered lost for almost 40 years, Sex Demon was found by chance a few years ago. A holy grail of lost gay pornographic films, the film finally got a home video release by Melusine (Vinegar Syndrome’s sister company specializing in sexploitation) last year, so now you can watch it in the comfort of your own home. Inspired by Friedkin’s The Exorcist and the Blaxploitation film Abby (1974), Sex Demon follows John and Jim, a gay couple in the Village, after John gives Jim a medallion he found in a thrift store, not knowing that it’s cursed. After John puts it around Jim’s neck, Jim begins acting strangely, almost as if he’s been possessed by a sex demon! As GAY SCENE editor-in-chief Bruce King declared, “The squeamish may not want to watch…but if you do, you won’t forget!”

Running at only an hour, the film gets slow in places, but it still keeps you on your toes. As Jim turns into more and more of a psychopath, Sex Demon becomes a test of how much its viewers can stand. It’s not exactly an erotic film despite its X-rating, but it succeeds as a horror film. It has many tropes that you’d expect from that genre: exorcisms, skulls, candle rituals, cursed objects, and warnings not heeded.

Now, we can’t help but wonder: Did William Friedkin ever see Sex Demon? Considering that he directed The Exorcist and seemed well acquainted with his subject matter for Cruising, it appears likely. While this world inspired Friedkin to direct a film set in the leather scene, Clive Barker took a different route with a fantasy horror take on this gritty underbelly with Hellraiser. These films inspired by a pre-gentrified ’70s NYC might help you get into the Halloween spirit.

Born in Crowborough, Sussex, England, in 1938, Brownlow started collecting silent films when he was only 11. He was first exposed to movies at prep school, where films from retailer Wallace Heaton were screened. At 15, he was an apprentice in the British film industry, beginning as an office boy. Soon, he was an assistant editor, and then became an editor in 1958, when he started gaining valuable experience on documentaries.

Before long, Brownlow was also writing, and in 1968, his first book, The Parade’s Gone By, was published. It was a compilation in which he interviewed various directors, stars, screenwriters, crew, and others who were involved with Hollywood during the silent era. Many people had written off silent films as old-fashioned and not worth studying seriously. Brownlow remembers when people regarded these films as existing only to be laughed at, but no one’s laughing now. With The Parade’s Gone By, he had begun his career as a film historian.

For his next project, Brownlow tackled a cinema documentary series about Hollywood history, making film’s past accessible to the generation of 1970s latchkey kids. His first major series was Hollywood: A Celebration of the American Silent Film, a 13-part documentary produced by Thames Television in 1980. After this, he directed Unknown Chaplin, a three-part series about the career and methods of the silent film legend Charlie Chaplin. He also helmed series about Buster Keaton, Harold Lloyd (his personal friend), D. W. Griffith, Universal Horror, Lon Chaney, and more.

Brownlow also co-directed an original feature film with Andrew Mollo titled It Happened Here, which shows an alternative history where the United Kingdom has been invaded and occupied by Nazi Germany during World War II. The film follows an Irish nurse working in England as she encounters people who believe collaboration with the invaders is for the best, while others are involved in a resistant movement against the Nazi regime and their local collaborators. Its title is a reference to the 1935 Sinclair Lewis novel It Can’t Happen Here.

Film Forum’s retrospective includes Mr. Brownlow’s own films, those he was instrumental in restoring, and some that influenced and inspired him. This includes The Thief of Bagdad (1924), Greed (1924), Sunrise: A Song of Two Humans (1927), The Wind (1928), It Happened Here (1964), Winstanley (1975), and much more. Selected screenings will be followed by excerpts from his documentaries. The retrospective will run from Friday, October 24, through Thursday, November 6. Read more about it here.

During the day, Johan works at a gay bathhouse cleaning up cum-stained sheets and glory holes in the showers. But at night, he frequents gay bars and clubs. He meets William on Grindr, not realizing he’s a trans man until they meet in person. While he’s initially shocked, Johan invites William to spend the night. They quickly fall in love, but William is at the beginning of his transition. The film portrays Danish law as unforgiving to trans people. Relying on leftover testosterone from his friends, William is anxious to get his own, but the gender clinic isn’t making it easy. Johan will do anything to support him, but he keeps doing the wrong thing. William, for his part, is still trying to figure out who he is, fighting to be comfortable in his own skin.

It would have been easy for Sauna to be a movie about Johan having a crisis over whether he’s gay or not after falling in love with a gay trans man, but that’s not the case. He never once wonders if he’s still gay, but the film is still primarily centered on him and not William; the film suffers for it. Johan and William are the film’s leads, but Johan is the main character. William doesn’t have a scene without Johan, leaving you wanting to know more about William and his day-to-day life as a trans student in Copenhagen away from Johan. Sauna is Denmark’s first movie with a trans lead, which is all the more remarkable considering that Christine Jorgensen began her transition here in the 1950s. It feels like an oversight not to feature more from William’s perspective and focus primarily on Johan’s.

Running at 109 minutes, Sauna is slow in places, but you’re never hoping it will be over soon. It does make you wonder how the film will end because as Johan’s well-intentioned actions push William away, you don’t know whether their relationship will survive. Shot like the Euro arthouse indie film that it is, Sauna is moody and Mathias Broe isn’t afraid to show it all, including explicit sex scenes featuring cunnilingus and cum.

Broe has a promising future as a queer filmmaker, and he was brave enough to tackle a controversial topic during a moment when other directors might have shied away from it. It’s exciting to see what he will do next.

Miss Peppermint moved to Harlem when she was 17 and started doing drag shows. In the documentary, she claimed that she always knew she was different and that she could finally be herself after moving to the city. When Drag Race came out in 2009, she found it harder to get work, so she decided to audition for the show, hoping that it would boost her career. However, she knew that drag, at that time, wasn’t accepting of trans performers, so she put off her transition. After years of not succeeding, she couldn’t wait anymore, so she started hormone replacement therapy (HRT) and the process of getting surgeries, but she never quit trying to get on Drag Race. Ironically, it was after she started living openly as a trans woman that she finally got on the show.

Peppermint and Pe’er met at Barracuda, a gay bar in Chelsea that closed earlier this year, and it didn’t take long for them to become friends. Barracuda did nightly drag shows and hosted a weekly event called “Star Search,” which might have served as inspiration for RuPaul’s Drag Race. Pe’er started helping Peppermint with her sizzle reels by getting extras to appear in them, editing her videos, and taking footage of her drag shows.

Pe’er was one of the first people that Peppermint came out to as trans. “I’m just going to say, like from my perspective, when she came out to me privately, years ago before she came out to everyone, it was a really special moment for me,” Pe’er recalled at the screening. “It’s not that I didn’t know she was like, gender bender, but she was the first trans woman who actually came out to me. And so she was my first trans friend ever, way before trans people were even talked about.”

Initially, the documentary was going to be a short about auditioning for and getting on RuPaul’s Drag Race, but the friends decided they wanted to make it about her transition as well. After months of filming, Peppermint realized she wanted to make a feature film. “The whole aspect of like, ‘Oh, let’s film a show is so easy.’ But then the notion of like, ‘Oh, come into my apartment, see me when I’m not dressed, see me when it’s not the show.’ It’s not what I’m used to presenting to people,” Peppermint recalled of shooting the documentary.

Following NewFest’s theme of queer films as an act of rebellion, the premiere also served as a call to action against rising transphobia. “[My career] was only possible because of things like Drag Race and the acceptance that people wanted to see shows like Drag Race and drag entertainers out in the world and doing Broadway. It’s only because people were ready for that, and accepting of that, that I was able to have these opportunities to do that. I don’t know if it would be like that today.”

The largest presenter of queer film in New York, NewFest runs through October 21.

Learn More

• https://www.adeeperlovefilm.com/

• https://newfest.org/

• https://www.instagram.com/adeeperlovefilm/