Twenty Cinematic Arguments That Suggest AfterElton.com Is A Lonely Gay Computer with an Abercrombie Mousepad

Also, we don’t draw any distinctions between “gay movies,” movies by gay filmmakers about gay vague characters, classic gay porn and stuff that’s maybe more camp than gay but are classics of the canon nonetheless.

Ok, Computer (or maybe Netflix
auto-generated gay tag), here’s our official counter-list of our favorite gay
movies, in no particular order:

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My Own Private Idaho (dir. Gus Van Sant, 1991)
The thinking man’s Brokeback Mountain showed us that love DOES cost a thing.

That Boy (NSFW – dir. Peter Berlin, 1974)
Peter Berlin’s first porno is a monumental feat. It interrogates the gays/gaze connection, and gives us a big cock to boot.

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Superstar: The Karen Carpenter Story (dir. Todd Haynes, 1987)
Do we even need to explain this? It was made with fucking Barbies and it’s brilliant and Richard Carpenter was such a ‘mo.

Pink Narcissus (dir. James Bidgood, originally Anonymous, 1971)
Filmed
over the course of seven years entirely in a tiny New York apartment
and released without the director’s consent, this visual masterpiece of
otherworldly erotic fantasy was made to express the deepest and most
romantic desires of man and has influenced art and fashion and music in
priceless and incalculable ways, which is kind of, sort of what amazing
art is supposed to do (as opposed to, say, The Object of My Affection, which is a piece of shit, Brent.)

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The Talented Mr. Ripley (dir. Anthony Minghella, 1999)
If only we could be horribly closeted and live in Italy in the 50s with Jude Law and take baths.

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Showgirls (dir. Paul Verhoven, 1995)
“It’s Ver-sayce”

Hustler White (dir. Bruce LaBruce, 1996)
“See it with someone you’ve paid for.”

 

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Beyond the Valley of the Dolls (dir. Russ Meyer, 1970)

Less of a sequel than a balls-out psychedelic fuckfest revision of the original, the movie (penned by longtime closet case Roger Ebert) is essentially a bunch of sordid Hollywood drug party scenes where lesbians make out and flaming rock producer ‘Z-Man,’ while tripping, reveals himself to be a trans woman (also, um, ‘Superwoman’) and is ultimately killed.

Hedwig and the Angry Inch (dir. John Cameron Mitchell, 2001)
Reminded us that “the jobs we call blow” are really the only jobs worth working.

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A Family Finds Entertainment (dir. Ryan Trecartin, 2004)

This
breakout piece from the 2004 Whitney Biennial revolves around a gay
teen named Skippy who tries to kill himself in his friend’s bathroom
and then gets run over by a car on his way to a party. It’s the
funniest coolest movie ever, in other words.

Gia (dir. Michael Christofer, 1998)
Like
Basic Instinct and Showgirls, it proved that lesbians aren’t
one-dimensional cat sitters: they’re strong sexually confident drug
addicts who look really gorgeous when they leave editorial shoots in
kimonos to go score some China white!

All About My Mother (dir. Pedro Almodovar, 1999)
Well written, funny, gorgeously shot, and features a bunch of Spanish trannies.

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Fight Club (dir. David Fincher, 1999)

They may turn out to be the same person, but Brad Pitt and Edward Norton seem like they’re about to whip their cocks out and fuck in just about every scene, right?

Clueless (dir. Amy Heckerling, 1995)
Because if we ate as often as we quote this movie on a daily basis, we’d look like Bruce Fucking Vilanch.

Tootsie (dir. Sydney Pollack, 1982)
No, we are not friends. I don’t take this shit from friends. Only lovers.”

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Paris Is Burning (dir. Jennie Livingston, 1990)
Saint Laurent! Ninja! LaBeija! Xtravaganza! Sashay, shanté!

Sleepaway Camp (dir. Robert Hiltzik, 1983)
There’s
the creepy tranny “Aunt Martha” at the beginning, that slutty little
bitch Judy with the epic side-ponytail, all of those hot boy-counselors
in short shorts having water balloon fights, that babe of a cop with
the fake mustache, and of course, the revelation at the end that little
Angela has a penis. What else does a fag like you need?


Welcome to the Dollhouse (dir. Todd Solondz, 1995)

Maybe not every fag had Dawn Weiner’s life in junior high-starting a Special People’s Club, waiting to get raped by a bad-boy drug dealer after school, having a little gay friend named Ralphie and a cunty little sister in a tutu -but admit it: it was pretty fucking close.
BONUS:

Pink Flamingos / Desperate Living / Polyester (dir. John Waters)
Run, don’t walk. Seriously, if you haven’t seen these movies, we’re not talking to you until you do.

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Chelsea Girls / Flesh / Heat (dir. Andy Warhol)
Joe Dallesandro was hot. The end.


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