What is Queer Cinema? (Weeks 1-2)
Defining “queer” and fully understanding its implications can be a daunting task. Its historical trajectory as a word is fascinating; once used to marginalize, it now serves as a word of identity, genre, and culture, having been reclaimed by those it originally oppressed. I still feel some discomfort towards this word, as I still sometimes hear it used with malicious intent, but its importance cannot be understated.
One definition or understanding of “queer” has been provided by Eve Kosofsky Sedgwick in “Tendencies,” as she notes that “queer” can refer to:
the open mesh of possibilities, gaps, overlaps, dissonances and resonances, lapses and excesses of meaning when the constituent elements of anyone’s gender, of anyone’s sexuality aren’t made (or can’t be made) to signify monolithically.
Understanding being “queer” in this way helps us then understand queer as a genre of cinema, as it is sometimes difficult to quantify what is or is not considered “queer” cinema, or if such a strict boundary should exist at all. 
Queer cinema has served as a mode of expression and as a community-builder since the dawn of the cinema industry; the 1995 documentary The Celluloid Closet, based on a 1981 book of the same name, explores the turbulent history of queer cinema, focusing especially on gay, lesbian, bisexual or transgender characters featured in films in the last century of filmmaking. I felt that this film was eye-opening; despite some segments not quite holding up today, I felt that its extensive coverage of characters and films that I had previously never heard of was enlightening, and I found myself wishing that I had known about these films while growing up. It reenforced the importance of preserving and highlighting history and art that is usually sidelined or forgotten. Despite being filmed over twenty years ago, the arguments put forwards by some of the film’s commentators are still very relevant today, which is somewhat alarming. I hope that we can one day look back on current queer filmmaking and be inspired rather than discouraged by the progress we have made.
While The Celluloid Closet mostly stays within the American realm of filmmaking, Loose Cannons, directed by Ferzan Özpetek, served as an introduction into specifically European queer cinema. I have seen other 
queer films produced in Europe, but this was my first experience actively engaging with such a film rather than being a casual viewer. I enjoyed how this film subverted certain established tropes of similar movies that are centralized around a certain character “coming out,” or outwardly declaring their sexual identity, usually to their immediate family. The pivotal coming out scene occurs quite early in the film and is upended when the protagonist’s brother comes out before the protagonist, Tommaso, unexpectedly; the rest of the film follows the family members as they navigate this reveal and as Tommaso reevaluates his motives for coming out. Ultimately, he does not come out to his father, and instead reveals to him a different secret: he has no interest in the family business and is pursuing a career as a writer.
This film is an interesting insight into the complicated state of being out or closeted; it often feels that coming out is highly prioritized for those in the LGBTQ community, as you’re either out or you’re not. It is refreshing to see a movie like Loose Cannons end with the character still being confident in his identity without the expected, “traditional” coming out scene between him and his father.
I really enjoyed these first few films of the course; I thought they were a great introduction into queer cinema and its related literature.