Five Best Lesbian Moments In Wicked: For Good

MASSIVE SPOILERS FOR WICKED: FOR GOOD AHEAD 

Now that the final song has been sung, wizard dethroned, and bubble popped, the Wicked duology has come to a close. In its wake, these two Jon M. Chu directorial efforts have left plenty of memorable musical numbers, performances, and costumes that people won't forget anytime soon. Also unlikely to slip from people's radar? The underlying queerness simmering under every scene Elphaba and Glinda share. The first film's version of "Popular" had so much extra queer tension in its blocking (they're always sooooo close to kissing), and Wicked: For Good didn't do anything to shake off the idea that these two were more than "roommates."

Now that these films are finished, I thought it'd be fun to break down the best lesbian-coded scenes in Wicked: For Good. They might not register as gay to the general public, but lemme tell you, us lesbians in the theater, we saw it all. Grab your silver/ruby slippers and let's break down the best lesbian-coded moments from Wicked: For Good.

Elphaba and Glinda's First Date...at a Craft Store

The very first Wicked: For Good scene is a flashback to Elphaba and Glinda going on their first date in the Emerald City before that whole "Defying Gravity" business. In this set piece, the pair head into a craft store that, because this is the mystical land of Oz, doesn't just sell cardboard paper and crayons. There's an abundance of oddball items in here with names that will sound familiar to anyone from the lesbian community. Glinda reaches out for a hole-puncher that's called a "carpet muncher" in this realm. Meanwhile, Elphaba is enamored with a vibrating item (supposedly to help stamp objects) the "clam smacker." During their visit, Glinda also refers to herself as a "pillow princess" because she likes to do crafts in bed while wearing her princess get-up.

To most, this is just a cute bonding experience. For lesbian viewers? C'mon, dykes are always going into craft stores on first dates. These lewd object names just seal the lesbian atmosphere, particularly whenever the two keep returning to how important it is to grab "scissors" while they're in this hot spot. 

Elphaba's New Wicked Witch Attire

When Elphaba takes on the "Wicked Witch of the West" mantle, she dons all-black garb that will look familiar to anyone who's seen a certain 1939 Victor Fleming directorial effort. However, the other way she solidifies via her wardrobe that she's a new person? Elphaba's now rocking a carabiner on her waist. This item now dangling from her belt is an obvious sign that Elphaba is a friend of Dorothy (how ironic!). She even shows off the various keys and tools she's carrying on the carabiner to Glinda before this plucky witch's wedding day. How can this be read as anything but a decidedly lesbian moment?

Elphaba and Glinda's Awkward Conversation With The Wizard

Jeff Goldblum's Wizard of Oz is a very bad man on multiple levels, there can be no denying. However, what really solidifies his villainy isn't that he's keeping a bunch of animals locked up or his proclivity for lying. It's his dialogue in the "Wonderful" musical number where he tries to lure Elphaba over to his side (Glinda is also involved in this coercion). The Wizard interrupts his crooning to start asking some very odd questions to Elphaba and Glinda like, "Which one of you is the boy in the relationship? Which one is the girl?" He also, for some reason, believes all queer women know who Tracy Chapman is, as seen by his insistently asking Elphaba for her phone number over and over again. Most cis-het moviegoers will only see The Wizard's duplicitiousness regarding Oz's animals as the reason he's a bad man. However, lesbian audiences will immediately know that The Wizard's tone-deaf questions to these two women really solidify his treachery.

Elphaba And Glinda's Big Gay Musical Number

"For Good" might be the most memorable Elphaba/Glinda musical number in Wicked: For Good, sure. But how could anyone give a cold shoulder to their other big duet, when they harmonize a cover of Avril Lavigne's "Girlfriend" together? This is one sequence I've been shocked to hear cis-het audiences declare has no gay annotation. For one thing, they're singing lyrics like "Hey, hey, you, you, I could be your girlfriend" directly into each other's eyes before smooching. For another, Elphaba's explicitly topping and eating out Glinda (all on-screen) for a portion of this musical number, in what's clearly a homage to the mixture of sexual intercourse and singing in the "We Love Each Other Very Much" set piece in 2021's Annette. We also learn that the duo's safe word in rougher sex is "clocktick," while the phrase "mommy" is heard constantly throughout the scene. Juggling all these elements (the sexual imagery, the looks into Elphaba and Glinda's sexual preferences, and the elaborate dance numbers) in a "Girlfriend" cover is an incredible balancing act in addition to being such a dynamite depiction of graphic lesbian passion. "For Good" is the Elphaba/Glinda tune that gets people crying. This graphically sexual "Girlfriend" sequence, meanwhile, also had lesbians crying...tears of joy. 

That Ending

Glinda and Elphaba inevitably have to part ways at the end of Wicked: For Good.  However, the script does see them reunite years later (kind of) in a direct recreation of Portrait of a Lady on Fire's bittersweet conclusion. This explicit homage might be cloying or derivative in other contexts. However, mimicking every inch of Fire's finale (particularly in the camerawork) provides an appropriately bittersweet wrap-up to Elphaba and Glinda's journey. The ones we love and romances that change our lives forever, none of it goes on forever. Nor do these dynamics end how we'd want them to. We must cherish the connections we have in the moment and appreciate how they changed us (for good) once they're over. Just like in Portrait of a Lady on Fire's unforgettable ending, the profound impact two queer women had on each other (even when they can't hold each other's hands again) is astonishingly tangible.

Plus, this direct homage further entrenches Wicked: For Good in lesbian culture. Its ceaseless deluge of references to cornerstones of lesbian history (Tracy Chapman, Celine Sciamma, Marsha P. Johnson, etc) intertwine formative modern-day dyke media with the individuals who made our community possible. This is the artistic prowess of the unabashedly queer Wicked: For Good and its five best lesbian moments that totally happened. I swear. 

Why and When Did Animated Disney Movies Start Dominating Thanksgiving Weekend?

Zootopia 2's arrival on November 26, 2025 marks the latest in a long line of films in the Walt Disney Animation Studios canon to open in wide release over Thanksgiving weekend. While the original Zootopia debuted in March 2016, this furry sequel is dropping in a timeframe that the Mouse House's animated offerings have ruled for eons. The eight biggest Thanksgiving opening weekends in history belong to animated Disney fare, while even live-action Mouse House films like 1996's 101 Dalmations or 2007's Enchanted have often debuted over this timeframe hoping to get in on this box office action.

But why do Walt Disney Animation Studios movies open over Thanksgiving? When did this holiday become the de facto launchpad for Disney's homegrown animated projects (plus a handful of Pixar movies)?

One thing to remember is that, before the 1970s, the way films were released was drastically different. As  Tom Brueggemann helpfully notes in his March 2022 IndieWire piece "‘The Godfather’ Helped Invent the Blockbuster, Even Before ‘Jaws’ and ‘Star Wars’"...

"The standard M.O. for an anticipated hit was to open in one or two theaters each in New York and Los Angeles, on the same day or close together (usually Wednesday), and add more in the weeks to come. It might take a month or more for the top 200 markets to get a title, and even longer to reach outlying theaters."

The Godfather and especially Jaws forever changed theatrical release patterns by immediately launching into hundreds of theaters across the country.

For the purposes of this piece, it's important to remember this when considering when and where Disney released its earliest animated movies. These titles were expected to make bank long-term, not just over six or eight weeks. Thus, some (by modern standards) odd release dates were chosen for the very first Walt Disney Animation Studios titles. Pinocchio dropped in early February 1940, while Dumbo launched in late October 1941. Interestingly, Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs debuted four days before Christmas 1937. Here was the first example in history of Disney Animation and the holidays being bedfellows.

Only one of the pre-1970 Disney Animation Studios titles (Fantasia) dropped in November, a month that this outfit would later dominate.. Summertime and February were instead the go-to launchpads for the studio in the 1950s. The Jungle Book began rolling out to the public in December 1967, where it quickly garnered record-shattering grosses for an animated Disney film. This may have been one of the earliest signs of how well Disney Animation Studios titles could do in the final weeks of the year. 

In the pre-VHS days, Disney also constantly re-released its animated movies into theaters, usually every seven or eight years. Could this have been where the Mouse House got the idea for Thanksgiving as a lucrative launchpad for animated movie releases? Concrete data on exact release dates for all of these reissues is sometimes hard to track down in the modern world. However, Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs doesn't appear to have had a big pre-1987 Thanksgiving reissue (it was largely re-released in February or November). Fantasia's various reissues weren't centered on Thanksgiving either, ditto Dumbo.

Even after The Godfather and Jaws changed how movies were released theatrically, Disney kept releasing titles like The Rescuers and The Fox and the Hound in June or July. It wasn't until Oliver & Company opened over the pre-Thanksgiving weekend in 1988 that a new release date norm was established for Disney Animation Studios releases. Six years earlier, animated feature The Last Unicorn opened in the pre-Thanksgiving slot and got run over financially by E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial (then six months into its run). It was 1986's An American Tail, though, that really proved the Thanksgiving timeframe could be lucrative for animated family fare.

This Don Bluth directorial effort (produced by Steven Spielberg) racked up big numbers in a domestic run that not only thrived over Thanksgiving but also end of December holidays one month later. If a family movie took off at Thanksgiving, it could make money over multiple lucrative holidays. Disney re-released Cinderella over Thanksgiving 1987, while also launching Touchstone Pictures comedy Three Men and a Baby over the same holiday frame. Not only did Cinderella gross $34 million over this domestic relaunch, but Three Men and a Baby became the biggest movie of 1987 in North America.

An American Tail was no fluke. Animated cinema could really thrive over Thanksgiving weekend. Three Men and a Baby, meanwhile, showed how high the lifetime grosses could be for Turkey Day blockbusters. Oliver & Company launched over Thanksgiving 1988, while The Little Mermaid flourished over the same holiday in 1989. The next three Disney Animation Studios releases would debut over Thanksgiving to increasingly massive numbers. 1994's The Lion King would start a new trend of annual Disney Animation Studios titles debuting in June, however, 1995's Toy Story kept the tradition of animated Disney Thanksgiving releases alive and well. A Bug's Life and Toy Story 2 would open over this frame to massive numbers before the end of the 20th century.

In 2008, Bolt marked only the second Disney Animation Studios release (following Treasure Planet) to open either over or directly before the Thanksgiving frame. Two years later, Tangled expanded into wide release on Wednesday, November 24, the day before Thanksgiving. Fittingly, the first fully-animated Disney fairy tale musical to open over Thanksgiving since 1992's Aladdin was also the feature to resurrect Disney Animation Studios as a box office powerhouse. Frozen, Moana, and Pixar release Coco further solidified Disney's dominance over the Thanksgiving frame.

What's extra fascinating about Disney's continued success in this realm is how Thanksgiving weekend is often not ideal for movies to launch in. If a movie don't immediately take off over this holiday frame, it quickly gets pushed out of theaters by the deluge of new December movies. It's feast or famine in this holiday zone. To wit, only five non-Disney features (Creed II, Four Christmases, Creed, Back to the Future: Part II, and Knives Out) have had $26+ million three-day weekend debuts over Thanksgiving. Disney, meanwhile, can attest to how dangerous this release spot can be. The Good Dinosaur, Wish, and Strange World all bombed over this holiday weekend and then quickly vanished from theaters.

So entrenched is the studio's output in this timeframe that it's hard to believe that this release date tradition is less than 40 years old. One would think that Thanksgiving and new animated Disney family movies have been hand-in-hand since Floyd Norman first walked into the Disney studio. However, this release date strategy is still comparatively new in the 100+ year history of the Mouse House. It's also a standard inspired by an immigrant mouse and Tom Selleck (so many things in show business are). With Disney already scheduling Hexed and Frozen 3 for the next two Thanksgiving weekends, the Mouse House won't be abandoning this weekend anytime soon. 

That's despite this being the place where poor Treasure Planet perished so dramatically at the box office. Poor Jim Hawkins and Morph, y'all deserved better.

This Is Not For You

Boy, do I ever relate to Isabel Sandoval's weariness in this image from the excellent movie Lingua Franca.

Darkness has fallen on Dallas

And I'm exhausted.

Two screenings in a day

Will wipe anyone out.

I saunter into my apartment's elevator

Wearing a black-and-white dress

Oh, the fabric's so soft and fun to touch

And it's even got pockets! How divine!

Heaving a tired sigh, I continue gazing at my phone

I barely notice the man in front of me

Who lugged a bike into this cramped space

A rubber wheel now inches from my shoes.

I'm standing in the back corner

The bike in front of me

This strange man standing next to this two-wheeler

Suddenly, the man murmurs something

At first, I assume he's talking to himself

As I'm also wont to do.

But no, he stares at me,

This 60-ish year old man, grins and speaks again.

"Beg pardon?" I blurt out.

"I said, you look sexy," he declares

And suddenly, the optics of this tiny space

Are entirely different

Prviously, the bike in front of me

It was just a random object.

Now, it's a barrier. I'm trapped.

The elevator door feels miles away

"It's just a compliment," the man remarks

"You look sexy," he repeats as the doors open

Always a good sign when you have to clarify

That what you said totally wasn't creepy.

He moves his bike an inch, and I zoom away

An already stressful night now extra draining.

Only once I'm inside my apartment

Do I exhale.

Safe. Temporarily safe.

Two nights later, I'm alone at the local lesbian bar.

A week of toiling away at my laptop

And not being around gay people

Has left me counting down the seconds until this rendezvous 

Time for some karaoke and maybe 

A little bit of flirting with other lesbians.

While I'm sitting, reading, waiting for the karaoke to start,

A tall, 30-something man approaches, grinning

He's towering over me, inches away from my body.

"Hey!" he calls out. I burrow myself deeper in the book

I feign a yawn

Anything to indicate I'm busy.

He won't leave. He's circling me, occasionally

Calling out once more "hey!"

After a minute of this, I look into his eyes

And I see sickening desire

He thinks he's smooth. 

Any word out of his mouth

And women will drop their panties for him.

Anyone who doesn't is a cunt he can rant about on Reddit.

He leans down and asks me "what's you name?"

There will be no names exchanged between us.

I only looked up to say, "I don't want to talk to people."

A simple "ah" escapes his lips and he walks away

Probably to send incendiary texts to his buddies

About "the rude bitch at the bar, I was just being nice!"

Two hours later, I'm on the dance floor 

Shaking my legs and arms to Megan Thee Stallion and Doja Cat

I'm oh so white and have motor skills issues

Stemming from my autism

I know I can't dance

But it's fun to move the body to powerful music

And imagine these glorious women are including you

In their lyrics about "sexy women" on the dance floor

Since the dance floor's largely empty

I'm incorporating some kicks and 

Outsized hand movements in my dances

One guy on this dance floor didn't like that

Seemingly appearing out of the ether was this random man

Who stood right in front of me and wagged his finger, "no."

Even with the loud music, I could tell he then declared,

"Let me show you how to dance."

Thank God a man has appeared to instruct me how to dance.

I humor for one second, 

This guy who looks like Temu DJ Khaled

But he immediately grows visibly agitated 

Over my inability to follow his visual instructions

Sorry, random asshole, 

Dance floors aren't good teaching spaces

With this guy standing over me and now obsessed 

With molding me into a "proper" dance

I decide to call it a night

I bolt from the dance floor

It's time to go home

And be safe. Temporarily safe.

This is not for you.

This dress I wear?

My body?

My glittery makeup?

It's not for you, cis-het men.

Not just because I'm a lesbian

(That too, though, ewwwww, men)

But also because women 

Aren't your fucking property.

No woman deserves this harassment.

Who the fuck do you think you are?

Telling me how to dance?

Asking me, "do you date?"

When I'm walking to my apartment?

Why the fuck would you ask me

"Does watching trans porn make me gay?"

While you're driving me in an Uber?

Why would you put your arms around me

As if I'm some object to hold

And not a human being recoiling at your palms.

Nothing about my wardrobe, personality,

Or life is meant for your eyes or pleasure.

I do not want your compliments.

I crave not your teachings.

My nights aren't spent thinking

"Won't some man circle me,

Like a vulture hovering over a perishing critter,

And constantly pester me? That'd be a dream!"

I want to scream.

I want to cry

I want to just bellow from a rooftop

"THIS IS NOT FOR YOU!"

I wear my dresses, makeup, and glitter

To make myself smile when I look in the mirror

And feel a little more comfortable in my own skin

It's not an invitation for male hands, words, and eyes.

Misogyny and male toxicity are relentless.

I know this will happen again.

There will be further men seeing me

As just an item, they can possess

But they're not gonna stop me

The world is pain. Existence is often suffering.

Leaving the house means possibly encountering

The worst people and unexpected dysphoria.

It also means

Possibly encountering a non-binary comrade

Who loves my friendship bracelets.

Or another lesbian

Who is also bamboozled the DJ's playing

This random P!nk song in a dyke bar.

Or finding a fellow film fan

In the DVD section at Half Price Books. 

Or meeting a lovely, gender reaffirming 

Waffle House server who adores my makeup.

"This is not for you."

That's true of my body

And gender presentation.

It also applies to my experiences

Venturing alone into the outside world.

Those voyages are for meeting longtime friends

And encountering other lovely people

These experiences are not for impromptu

Dance floor instructors

Or creepy elevator guys with bikes.

I spent the day after my nightmare

Lesbian bar experiences an exhausted shell.

But I won't let these men keep me down.

I'll keep wearing my dresses and makeup.

I won't just stay "temporarily safe".

My body is not for you, toxic men.

My clothes are not for you.

And my life is certainly not yours to control.

Fuck off, you menacing bastards.

"This is not for you" and it never will be.

What Do Movie Theaters Need Now? (Hint: It's Not Recliners)

 

I don't think we need recliners in movie theaters.

No, put away the pitchforks and torches. I am not a "luddite" adverse to any technological innovations in a movie theater beyond what was available in 1920. I enjoy a good comfy recliner as much as the next gal, especially the ones at Cinemark locations or the elaborate recliners Gold Class Cinemas (now known as iPic Fairview) had when they first opened in 2010. Man, those Gold Class recliners were so big, you could get lost in them! 

However, walking through an AMC Northpark Dolby auditorium last night, I was struck by how I'd be fine losing that domicile's recliner seating. All those extra doodads with modern cinemagoing, such as food delivered to your seat, I don't think that's necessary or essential to theatrical movies. This is no dig nat the everyday Alamo Drafthouse/Studio Movie Grill/any other theater employees working tirelessly to bring people their food during movies. Y'all have to juggle so much stuff while waltzing around in dark, crowded spaces. Your miracle workers!

No, the problem I have with these concepts is more in the macro sense. A recliner is fine, I suppose. It can be occasionally fun to have popcorn brought right to you. But what I really want in a movie theater is quality picture and sound. I'd trade all the recliners away right this instant to have crisper, consistent projection or more 35mm film projectors at major multiplexes. Ditto sublime sound systems. Giving people a great experience specific to the movie they came to see is essential above all else. All the other external things are just stripes on an automobile. Pretty, but they're not as important as the engines and brakes operating properly. 

Yet the movie theater industry and major studios are always gung-ho about stupid innovations supposedly "changing" the film industry that only amount to a lot of bells and whistles and hollow press releases. Remember the Barco Escape phenomenon, which promised viewers movies that would wrap around an auditorium and project images on the walls? That's just what I wanted when I was viewing Casablanca or Drive My Car on the big screen. Then there was that CinemacCon 2015 panel where movie theater owners began talking about possibly allowing patrons to use their cell phones during screenings. Don't forget about 20th Century Fox's Choose Your Own Adventure movie, which would've allowed audiences to "control" the film's narrative nor the whole digital 3D craze that gripped the film industry.

When the dust settles, Barco Escape ended up shut down in 2018. Digital 3D glasses are gathering dust in North American theaters (the format remains more popular in several international territories). Titles like Knives Out, Everything Everywhere All at Once, and Sinners enthrall moviegoers without forcing people to look at the walls or their phones. Only the IMAX format endures as a constantly popular "new" theatrical exhibition experience, though even Barbie and Jurassic World Rebirth found plenty of box office success without those screens. 

Even IMAX, though, in its own way, reaffirms how the theatrical experience at its core doesn't need drastic alterations. IMAX screens offer bigger picture and more immersive sound, but you're still sitting and watching a film playing out on one screen. The prospect of simultaneously eating dinner or having the story play out on surrounding walls isn't the driving factor behind why people seek out IMAX showings. I saw One Battle After Another twice in IMAX (once in IMAX 70mm) and never once did my mind go "I could go for a recliner right now." I was just captivated by the storytelling.

Make no mistake, though. I'm not saying everything about movie theaters is perfect and should never change. However, multiplexes and studios alike need to realize gimmicks aren't enough to suddenly generate a robust box office haul. Instead, let's make the glorious cinematic experience more accessible for everyone. How about creating more discount ticket days that offer more people opportunities to experience the big screen? Instead of spending money on bowling alleys or recliners, how about incorporating more disabled-friendly seating in auditoriums or sensory-friendly screenings.  Scheduling more specific screenings to meet a local community's demands could also make movie theaters extra valuable to the local populace. 

Putting money into more film projectors, meanwhile, could ensure audiences get a quality theatrical moviegoing experience when they shell out for a ticket. Rich colors and powerful imagery that come from 35mm/70mm showings can't be easily replicated at home, no matter your home video setup. That would be far more interesting than having your swirling chair give you a headache while watching Avatar: Fire and Ash.

We overcomplicate things as human beings. Trust me, I'm speaking from experience. I make mountains out of molehills every day of my life. However, that doesn't mean we have to continue that cycle, including how we approach improving the theatrical experience. There's a notion that some extravagant technological enhancement is the magic bullet that'll make movie theaters as popular in 2025 as they were in 1925. Barco Escape! Digital 3D! Recliners! Food! "Just tell me what you want me to fuck!" as a wise MacGruber said. However, emphasizing proper projection of must-see films (not to mention making screenings more accessible to a wider portion of the population) is what's truly essential. 

People show up to theaters to see Wicked, not necessarily to cuddle up in a specific recliner. Measures should be taken to make sure Wicked is displayed as pristinely as possible rather than emphasizing external elements. You can put in as many recliner seats or fancy dinner menus as possible in theaters. It won't change that the movies themselves are the most essential ingredient at play. Recliners or a costly burger won't make a bad movie great, nor will they compensate for lousy projection. For the future of theatrical exhibition, let's look to more enhancements benefiting the theatrical experience rather than gimmicks so far removed from the films themselves.

Big Screen Lesbians Make The World Go Round

An image from Saving Face, courtesy of Sony Pictures Classics

You know what the best "trope" (oh, I dread using that word) is in all of cinema?

That moment in the finale of a lesbian movie where the queer lady protagonist finally gets a moment with her crush. So much chaos has unfolded. So much personal growth has transpired. Yet here these two are. Once again staring into each other's pupils. The protagonist tries talking and unfurling all those feelings she's had contained inside her. Then, her crush says some phrase like "I can't" or "There's no way I could kiss you", oh! The pain! The devastation! Will this be one of those films depriving audiences of catharsis? But then that crush quickly follows it up with "...because there's no music playing!" or "...in this dance hall!" Something cutesy that reveals those preceding words were a misdirect. 

Then, they smooch. The camera revels in their passionate connection. Awkwardness, fleeting devastation, has turned into romantic ecstasy.

Bottoms and Saving Face are the only two movies I can immediately recall doing this exact "trope" in their respective climaxes. Angela Robinson's exquisite D.E.B.S. also has a sequence akin to this, where leading lady Amy is giving a formal acceptnace speech where she notes her crush (and intended rival) Lucy Diamond personifies "evil in this world...if there is indecency to be found, she is the root" before pulling the rug out from the audience and declaring "the times I spent Lucy Diamond were the happiest days of my life." That excellent cheer-worthy segment brings it up to three. Is that enough to make something a "trope"? 

I'm gonna call it one and not in a derogatory fashion (I even cringe at most uses of that "trope" word, to be honest). It's a microcosm of the crowdpleaser joys only lesbian cinema can provide.

I've written on several occasions before about the glories of women kissing in cinema, but it really can't be said enough: lesbian cinema is a triumph. A wonder to behold. So often, queer women in the real world are erased, reduced as "spectacle" for cis-het male eyes, or enduring any number of further injustices. Lesbian cinema, meanwhile, allows this strain of queer existence to manifest in countless forms. The offbeat comedy stylings of Jamie Babit or Angela Robinson. The painterly beauty of Celine Sciamma's works. Don't forget about the unhinged horror permeating Julia Ducournau's work. It's all so excitingly and endlessly varied, much like the innate form of cinematic expression or the lesbian community 

Those are all such amazing realities to consider. You know what's less amazing? How scarce such lesbian cinema joys have been in 2025! I watch a movie every day and have rarely been handed more scenes of queer gals being cute and/or unhinged with each other. I have, however, seen movies with gratuitous Burger King product placement, ugly new iPhone models, and snarky Ryan Reynolds wannabes filling up the screen. This is now what cinema was made for. After all, the very first kiss in cinema was history was beween two gals. Know your history, people!

I want lesbians everywhere. Someone put out a decree that every week will bring a new motion picture featuring smooching ladies. For every one new American feature wallowing in 80s nostalgia, there needs to be three lesbian movies. None of this off-screen romance in Mickey17 or other mainstream American movies shuffling same-sex intimacy to the deleted scenes sections. As Britney Spears once said, "gimmee gimme gimme more." Get ladies of all body types, nationalities, and backgrounds smooching.  And make them messy and stupid! Those are always the best kinds of characters in storytelling! It'd be great to see more titles like Nia DaCosta's Hedda centering on tracherous lesbians, for instance.

The future of lesbian cinema can excitingly build on its past. Hopefully, those subsequent exploits aren't afraid to alienate cis-het people. Assimilation is boring. Gimme those lesbian movies that make straight people squirm in their seats, sweat dripping down their foreheads as they confront the messy, jagged side of queer women's existence that doesn't fit into the "You Need to Calm Down" music video or a Postmates Pride Month ad. Meanwhile, the gay folks in the room are hooting and hollering over the chaos unfolding on-screen. You're not going to get those cinematic experiences just remaking a '90s rom-com and having the gay best friend be a sporadically present lesbian.

Enough complaining about representation and what the future of lesbian cinema looks like. Let's go back to fawning over the joys of seminal on-screen dykes. 95 years later, Marlene Dietrich smooching a lady in Josef von Sternberg's Morocco still registers as salacious, hot, and amazing. The aching yearning and empathetic filmmaking of 1931's Mädchen in Uniform, meanwhile, is still so powerful. Throw out all the reverent cinema history writing about D.W. Griffith, replace them with passages waxing poetic on the artistry of Uniform director Lontin Sagan. Watching 1933's Queen Christina for the first time two months ago, I kept squealing over Greta Garbo smooching ladies. Let's go, Garbo!

Allegedly, classic cinema performers like Garbo and Janet Gaynor were queer. They never got to live in a world where the term "queer cinema" existed or civil rights were even possible for LGBTQIA+ folks in America. I wish they could've lived to see the joy they brought to people or the roads they paved for other queer artists. When I watch them flicker on the screen now, being such outsized presences, I see queer women existence defiantly bubbling to the surface of a medium that would often (in the Hayes Code era) reinforce heteronormativity. Without them, we don't get Portrait of a Lady on Fire, Bottoms, Lingua Franca, Kokomo City, Carol, and other outstanding entries in the LGBTQIA+ women cinema canon. 

It would be divine if they could've lived to see these and so many other movies. They, like those gals sharing the first-ever on-screen smooch, established that lesbianism and quality cinema are intrinsically intertwined. How tragic, then, that they could never be open about their identities in their lives, let alone see how the likes of Cheryl Dunye and Dee Rees would take lesbian cinema to new heights. 

In a way, though, they do live on. Their various movies keep their artistic contributions and vibrant humanity alive permanently. Meanwhile, anyone still making unabashedly queer women cinema in 2025 is carrying on the legacy of Dorothy Arzner, Katharine Hepburn, and other vintage artists. 

In the queer community, we're often carving out existences for tomorrow. The world is imperfect and cruel. Living is often about trying to make it a little better and more unorthodox so that the next generation of LGBTQIA+ souls have it a bit easier. They have more resources to access. More examples to follow and improve on. More instances of activism to emulate. And also produce queer art, enriching souls for eons to come. Those big-screen lesbians do mean something in illustrating (among many other concepts) to nascent gays the endless ways lesbian existence can materialize and that the status quo can be shattered. Even just providing fleeting entertainment from a hostile, unaccepting world is enough.

Maybe seeing those third-act moments in Bottoms and Saving Face, where two women finally embrace in the cutest fashion possible, urges a lesbian of any age to keep going. My fellow dykes, keep on creating lesbian-filled art. Plaster lesbians everywhere. Make them messy. Make them real. Make lesbian stories only you could create, warts and all. You never know who they might impact today and tomorrow. Plus, selfishly, I'd love to see even more art reveling in my favorite "trope", gimme more of those adorable romantic lesbian finales!

A Week of Unexpectedly Reassuring Modern Filmmaking

I've been in a not ideal mental state for the last week. Granted, 2025 hasn't been a rose garden psychologically, but harrowing chaos during my Austin trip (taken from October 23 through the 26th) and the lingering aftermath of all that madness have made the last week especially challenging to endure. In these arduous segments of existence, it's important to cling to whatever makes your soul feel full. "Any port in a storm," as they say.

Naturally, for me, that often comes in the form of cinema-based joys. Right now, when I'm getting overwhelmed or exhaustion feels like it's enveloping my body, I'm closing my eyes and looking back on one reality: over the last week, I've been privy to some superb 2025 cinema. Not only that, but these features demonstrated talented directors excelling in their greatest thematic and visual proclivities. Watching masters so deftly weaving movie magic that might as well serve as thesis statements for their filmographies, that's enough to give my mind some rest.

Directors are, like any human being, complicated. The internet enjoys boiling down Steven Spielberg to "family trauma" or Martin Scorsese to "gangster movies", but they and other directors are far more complicated in what themes fascinate them. Still, there are often molds or ideas that filmmakers do return to throughout their works, whether consciously or subconsciously. In the last week, I've witnessed several 2025 movies brought to life by directors clearly reveling in their greatest artistic passions...and it's been glorious. 

This whole phenomenon started last Friday with me partaking in a screening of Mary Bronstein's If I Had Legs I'd Kick You. Bronstein's only helmed one other movie, 2008's mumblecore cringefest (complimentary) Yeast. Across just two movies, though, Bronstein's demonstrated remarkable visual and thematic conviction. She delivers claustrophobic works trapping her characters and viewers in uncomfortable material profoundly rooted in reality. 

The messy, rude, and jagged interactions dominating daily existence often don't make it onto the silver screen. Bronstein's works, meanwhile, point a camera at those exchanges. Armed with a slightly bigger budget than Yeast's pricetag, If I Had Legs I'd Kick You shows Bronstein operating in a more polished but no less aching mode. Her depiction of the ceaseless turmoil greeting mother/therapist Linda (Rose Byrne) as she takes care of her ill daughter had my toes curled, teeth clenched, and my attention fully captured. This whole enterprise is also a phenomenal showcase for Byrne's talents. This comedic performer totally disappears into a role so believably realistic that it would make Gena Rowlands proud. She's a perfect anchor for something so specific and boldly willing to confront the turmoil of just being alive. 

Next up was No Other Choice and Hamnet, a pair of Austin Film Festival screenings that I'll be reviewing in full for The Spool. I'll save my full thoughts for those pieces, but needless to say, they're both extraordinary works. Director Park Chan-wook's trademark style of audacious "WTF is happening?" madness and precise visual sensibilities are on total display in No Other Choice. Chloé Zhao, meanwhile, once again reduced me to tears with her visually and thematically beautifully exploration of lost souls.  Though Hamnet is set in 17th-century Britain, it radiates intimate, naturalistic impulses of her prior American-bound work. Extraordinary to witness such confident pathos-driven creativity that makes well-trodden material like Hamlet feel fresh again.

Once I returned to Dallas, it was time for two press screenings, one on Monday, the 27th, the other on Tuesday, the 28th. On the former, I saw Nia DaCosta's Hedda, twisty-turny take on the Henrik Ibsen play. DaCosta's work here is much more grimly comical than her excellent debut feature Little Woods, but a similar emphasis on "what would you do to maintain your life?" does run through her interpretation of Ibsen's text. Freed from the franchise obligations of Candyman and The Marvels, DaCosta is fully alive with Hedda. She's having an infectious ball letting all this rich people chaos and treachery constantly escalate into increasing levels of madness. 

Tessa Thompson and Nina Hoss are unspeakably absorbing and hot in the lead roles. They exude chaotic queer girly energy you can't look away from. It's such a privilege to live in the age of Thompson star vehicles. Also shout out to composer Hildur Guðnadóttir. This reliably talented musician delivers a great score here that sounds like a compelling mixture of Jonny Greenwood's jazz-infused Spencer score and Jóhann Jóhannsson's most ominous compositions. What a great way to sonically reflect the interior world of Thompson's Hedda Gabbler, a woman externally conveying a bougie lady air while battling suicidal impulses and scheming treachery inside.

24 hours after Hedda, I finally got to see the new Yorgos Lanthimos movie, Bugonia. Though a remake of a 2003 South Korean film (Save the Green Planet), it's a saga about two distinctly toxic archetypes (girlboss CEO's who maintain toxic workplace status quos and white boy conspiracy theorists) utterly wrecking modern American society. Neither Lanthimos nor screenwriter Will Tracey flinches from chronicling the darkest possibilities of this premise, which makes for a gripping viewing experience. The gusto performances (Aidan Delbis is a remarkable find as one of the two kidnappers) and fantastic blocking informed by the unorthodox 1.50:1 aspect ratio sseal Bugonia as another Lanthimos winner.

Then, on October 29, I checked out Richard Linklater's Blue Moon. When I was 17 and expanding my cinematic palette, Linklater's Before Midnight knocked my socks off and totally recalibrated my brain on how a "successful" movie functions. Motion pictures could just be low-key dialogue...still captivate the viewer! 12 years later, that Linklater magic is still alive. The hangout cinema king has come back, this time for Blue Moon, a movie following lyricist Lorenz Hart (Ethan Hawke) over a single night in 1943 in the bar at Sardi's. His former creative partner, Richard Rodgers (Andrew Scott), has just debuted his new show, Oklahoma!, and eventually, an opening night party will gather to celebrate the program's kick-off. For now, though, Hart is happy to blabber away to anyone who will listen about his perspectives on life, love, and infatuation with 20-year-old Elizabeth Weiland (Margaret Qualley).

Linklater's script and Hawke's magnetic performance lure viewers with Hart's unblinking cattiness. No matter the protests of the people around him, here is a man willing to blurt the word "cocksucker" out loud or openly declare that his sexuality is fluid. There's so much fun dialogue here as this lyricist chastises his least favorite parts of Oklahoma! (I was dying at his breakdown of why "corn stalks as high as an elephant's eye" is a terrible lyric) and gets lost in his own anecdotes. However, what really makes Blue Moon captivating is its aching soulfulness. 

Early Linklater hangout movies like Dazed & Confused and Before Sunrise were about youthful possibilities and "l-i-v-i-n". Blue Moon, meanwhile, gradually reveals itself to be a feature-length extension of that heartbreaking Boyhood scene where Patricia Arquette quietly laments how quickly her life has flown by.

Hart maintains a confident air, but he's well aware that he's only good to many people as a way to be introduced to Richard Rodgers. Insecurity and sweaty pleading soak into his attempts to stage a "comeback" with his former partner. From the very start, it's clear that the romantic love Harts feel for Weiland is a one-sided affair. This is a tragic subtlety exercise accentuated in its impact by the low-key vibes only Linklater can realize so well. His dedication to stripped-down filmmaking that emphasizes conversations and subtle physicality above all else makes Blue Moon's melancholy atmosphere soar. Howke's also in top-notch form, vanishing into the fascinatingly complicated role of Lorenz Hart. He’s got a climactic monologue about where Hart finds beauty that left me in tears. Utterly staggering to consider that this is the same guy who headlined First Reformed.

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I sometimes get asked "don't you get tired of watching/writing/talking about movies?" The honest answer is no, because there's always something new to discover. The promise of exciting, unexpected cinema being just over the horizon has provided me comfort on more challenging mental health deaths than I can count. This nearly week-long deluge of quality 2025 cinema was a reminder of how reassuring sublime cinema is.

All of these ramblings are meant to say that titles like If I Had Legs I'd Kick You or Blue Moon are terrific movies that could only come from these specific filmmakers and the artists they've assembled. These disparate motion pictures also use a filmmaker's specific fascinations to tap into emotions, fears, and anxieties we all endure. Heartbreak is everywhere. The pain of loss is unbearable. Just trying to exist from one day to the next is an arduous quest. Why must capitalism make earning a basic living such a nightmare? These are the woes that daily responsibilities often keep us from fully confronting. 

These artists making new movies in 2025, though, dare to craft compelling yarns that boldly stare such quandaries straight in the eye. They're also sticking to creative convictions in an age where feature-length storytelling is constantly under attack. "People don't want movies, they want AI/streaming slop!" so many executives say. The opportunities to get any kind of motion picture made are shrinking and shrinking. In the middle of this anguish, though, are quality 2025 movies like the ones discussed here. Against all odds, they exist. They don't adhere to algorithms or marketing pressures for what makes a "hit" movie. 

There's something inspiring in that. If the artists behind these projects could endure in the face of unspeakable challenges, I can too.After all, if I don't endure, who knows what wonderful movies I'll miss out on?