Before I can begin a review of “Stop! That! Train!” (the movie that’s been algorithmically dominating your queer social media feed in the form of ads for weeks now), I feel it’s necessary to provide a disclaimer: I am not a superfan of “RuPaul’s Drag Race.”

That doesn’t mean I’m NOT a fan, mind you. I’m just disclosing that I have never been the loyal viewer for whom each new episode is the highlight of the week, or followed the careers of the contestants I loved the most; I don’t know who won each season, or how many times they’ve been on the show. I barely even know any of the catch phrases. I say all this because you should know that, as someone who didn’t get any of the show references I’ve been told were laced throughout the movie, I’m probably not the person RuPaul and filmmaker Adam Shankman had in mind when they were making it.

I do, however, respect and adore the art of drag, not just as an expression of queer identity tied to a long tradition stretching back centuries, but as a powerful tool for satire. It’s a queer-eyed view that exposes the hypocritical norms and mainstream “morality”of society in a form that goes right over the heads of anyone who isn’t in on the joke, and the Queens of “Drag Race” not only honor that tradition but live up to it. Make no mistake, the queer spirit of rebellion is alive and well in “Stop! That Train!” – even if it sometimes feels like it’s just along for the ride.

Mounted as a parody of old-school “disaster movies” – a genre that found its heyday in the same ‘70s and ‘80s period that also saw the success of classic movie spoofs like “Young Frankenstein” and “Airplane!” (which clearly serves as the primary blueprint) – Shankman’s film seems driven by an impulse toward the absurd as a kind of de facto social commentary, but puts the most emphasis on landing its jokes. It imagines a contemporary world where high-speed train travel is an actual thing in America (wouldn’t that be nice?) and a Black drag queen can be elected president (OK, maybe she’s a cisgender woman in context of the plot, but still), but in which everything is pretty much just as “off the rails” as it really is, anyway.

In the middle of it all are Tess and DeeDee (Ginger Minj and Jujubee, both popular “Drag Race” veterans), two “train stewardesses” who fake their way into jobs on the prestigious “Glamazonian Express” railway line and face hostility from the “mean girl” attendants who work there. The popularity contest soon takes a back seat, however, when the train finds itself speeding into a catastrophic “storm-o-ganza,” and they’re faced with the challenge of saving themselves – along with the train’s assortment of passengers – from all-but-certain doom. Fortunately, they’re not alone; under-appreciated train dispatcher Donna Dusk (Rachel Bloom) is doing her best to guide them from afar toward the least catastrophic outcome, and no less than American President Judy Gagwell (RuPaul Charles, of course) takes a personal interest in averting the disaster; after all, it could take a few points off of her popularity rating if she doesn’t. Can this plucky alliance of women-with-something-to-prove shepherd this runaway train (and everyone on board) to safety? Of course they can, and in the most ridiculous way possible.

Like the aforementioned “Airplane!” (the zany 1980 farce that was itself modeled after the popular “Airport” series of all-star disaster epics), “Stop! That! Train!” takes an approach to comedy that’s more like facing a high-speed pitching machine in a batting cage than watching a movie in a theater; it’s one joke after another, thrown rapid fire against the wall on the theory that at least some of them will stick – a time-honored tradition that, admittedly, results in a lot of them that don’t. For every belly laugh, there’s a real groaner, and a fair number of the chuckles are “polite” ones, at best; but that, of course, is part of the appeal. Screenwriters Christina Friel and Connor Wright skew their humor toward the lowbrow – something the popular drag movement fully embraces, anyway – and make most of their characters into clowns as they freely transplant plot points and tropes into their ludicrous scenario; all of it’s on purpose, and most of it works, because this is the kind of movie that is intended to be as “stupid” as possible and we wouldn’t want it any other way.

Of course, some viewers will inevitably be underwhelmed by the movie’s humor; its borrowed tropes may feel less funny for being too familiar, sometimes the “lowbrow” might edge too closely on the “tasteless,” and the overall spirit of “bitchiness” could easily just come across as just plain “mean” if one is in the wrong mood. Let’s face it, though: most of those people will probably not be going to see “Stop! That! Train!,” anyway. For the rest of us, even if more of its jokes fall flat than we might hope and some of the zingers don’t have the “zing” that they should, there’s still a cumulative effect that leaves the impression of a whole being greater than its parts. After all, sometimes we just want to have brainless fun at the movies instead of having to think too much about it, and nobody was expecting an Oscar-winner, were they?

As for the disaster movie plot, it’s impossible to take seriously, of course, but it does provide the opportunity to showcase a lot of characters – and caricatures – along the way. Minj and Jujubee are essentially the stars of the show, and their easy chemistry together helps them carry the film; RuPaul, every inch the superstar as ever, strides confidently into his presidential role and rightfully dominates every scene that he’s in, yet is graceful enough not to overwhelm or overshadow the work of his co-stars, especially Matt Rogers, who, as President Gagwell’s possibly psychopathic press secretary and confidante, shares more screen time with him than anyone else. 

Veteran comic actor (and “SNL” alumnus) Chris Parnell uses his hilariously deadpan lunacy to great advantage as the train’s conductor, and Brian Jordan Alvarez (“The English Teacher”) brings a smarmy charm as the co-conductor who doesn’t know how to operate a train – despite the questionable choice of using an exaggerated “Bill and Ted” era Keanu Reaves impression for his character’s voice. There’s a whole gallery of familiar faces on hand in bit parts and cameos as passengers on the train, who arguably provide more genuine comedy and interest than the main storyline. And even if she never sets foot on the train herself, Bloom (“Crazy Ex-Girlfriend”) is every bit on board for the ride, serving as a grounding force even as she gives herself over completely to the silliness.

And silly it certainly is. It’s as insubstantial as the AI-generated backgrounds used to create the action scenes of speeding train and the storm. And at the risk of repeating myself, we wouldn’t have it any other way.

If you think the idea of a movie about two gender-nonconforming buddies embarking on an anti-establishment crime spree feels dangerously radical in 2026, just think how it must have felt 25 years ago.

That’s when “By Hook or By Crook,” a DIY independent film shot in low-tech “Mini-DV” format by a pair of San Francisco artists (Silas Howard and Harry Dodge, who co-wrote, co-directed, and co-starred in it), became a sensation at the 2001 Frameline Festival. Their reason for making it was they were tired of waiting for someone else to bring authentic queer experience and stories to the screen, so they decided to do it themselves.

Now given a 4K restoration that preserves the filmmakers’ intentions for the look of their movie, it’s getting a 25th anniversary re-release in theaters (starting with screenings in New York and Washington D.C. on June 12 and Los Angeles on June 16) and a VOD premiere from “boutique distributor” Altered Innocence. It still feels confrontationally transgressive today, which says a lot about the progress that’s been made and lost in the struggle for queer visibility, especially when it involves those in the trans, nonbinary, or otherwise gender nonconforming parts of our community.

Described as a “trans and butch buddy film” in the publicity for its new release, “By Hook or By Crook” is centered on Shy (Howard), a young transmasculine dreamer who leaves his small Kansas town after the death of his beloved father and heads pennilessly for San Francisco with a plan to “fight the power” by living a life of crime. There, he meets the “deliriously expressive” Valentine, a “butch dyke and bulldagger” whom he rescues from a queer-phobic attack. The two become friends, embarking with Val’s roommate and lover, Billie (Stanya Kahn), on a “Bonnie and Clyde” inspired career as outlaws stealing from the system to survive – or at least, that’s the idea, if they can scrape together enough change to buy a gun. In the meantime, they grapple together with an assortment of personal and emotional issues, blending into a makeshift family as they learn to trust and support each other along the way.

Soaked in a gritty, streetwise aesthetic and a guerilla-style docu-realism, yet percolating with humor that bubbles up in all the right places throughout, it’s a movie that leans into its no-frills style instead of trying to cover or apologize for it. Its improvisational tone creates a flow that feels like a stream-of-consciousness drift, but it stays committed enough to its “hustler-in-the-big-city” narrative structure (which candidly co-opts the basic formula of “Midnight Cowboy”) that it never feels aimless. For millennial and pre-millennial viewers, it offers a nostalgic glimpse at the “queercore” scene in a San Francisco since-transformed; and although its narrative is sometimes a little rough around the edges, so are its characters, so the effect is complementary rather than jarring. There’s even a sly cameo from rocker Joan Jett (whose cover of The Replacements’ song “Androgynous” also shows up over the restoration’s “reconstructed” end credits) for a touch of celebrity appeal.

What stands out as the most striking feature of Howard and Dodge’s groundbreaking film, however, is the same thing that stood out when it debuted, which again speaks volumes about how far we haven’t come: ”By Hook or By Crook” makes no effort to pigeonhole its characters into neatly defined gender or sexual categories – it simply lets them be who they are.

As Howard explains it in his filmmaker’s statement for the new release, “One thing we did […] that I think was ahead of its time – back then surely, and still is today – is that we didn’t explain ourselves to anyone, we were non-binary and didn’t justify our characters’ gender expressions and experiences or define it to the audience. We wanted to make a film about a third gender, which is where I felt I personally lived, at the time.”

Dodge comments on the choice as well. “People note time and again that we don’t explain or use identity categories or labels in the film. A viewer is simply in the fishbowl with us. […] we didn’t label because — it was like, straight people don’t explain straightness, you know? So these characters, they’re loving, feverish, fallible. End of explanation.”

Additionally, the two filmmakers chose to avoid making their characters into (as Howard puts it) “model-queers,” who “have to be perfect and good and have qualities that the mainstream can agree are redeeming.”

Dodge explains their thinking by remembering a university screening shortly after the film’s initial release, where some viewers “were miffed that we had done this representation of queers as criminals. ‘Why did you feel free to make them, one, mentally ill, and two—criminal?’ And I remember saying, ‘We are not a PR outfit for the gay community.’ [In the] movies I love, man, the characters are flawed.”

Watching now, it’s still disorienting to hear Val using “he/her” pronouns despite her masculine presentation, and there’s still a thrilling sense of empowerment when Shy responds to a curious child’s question, “Are you a boy or a girl?” with an unhesitant “Both!” We still squirm at Val’s sometimes alarming behavioral quirks, though we might today recognize her more easily as being “on the spectrum,” thanks to a wider awareness of neurodivergence. These responses are visceral, but “By Hook or By Crook” evaporates them quickly by not playing into them. Instead, it just lets the characters’ humanity shine through. “Our characters are tender fuck-ups, like us,” says Howard, “forever trying to get to a better place,” and because of that, we merely accept them for who they are and roll with it – largely because its two filmmakers also prove themselves well-suited for working in front of the camera, too, and their performances are the glue that holds it all together, while also keeping us invested in their journey together, both as individuals and as a pair of buddies. 

In the end, that’s what “By Hook or By Crook” leaves us with. Its unapologetic disregard for “curating” its queerness may catch our attention; the fiercely anti-capitalistic thrust of its “stealing from The Man” premise might distract us with politics; its “anything goes” attitude toward the infinite spectrums of gender expression and sexual identity unquestionably sparks us with a sense of freedom and possibility. But when the final credits roll, it’s the universal recognition of camaraderie, of simple but vital human connection, that matters most of all. 

What better message could we hope for, during Pride month or any other time, than that?

When movies are labeled as “controversial,” the effect is often akin to Oscar Wilde’s quip that “there’s only one thing in life worse than being talked about, and that is not being talked about.”

Indeed, a whiff of controversy can be the best publicity of all, turning a movie that might otherwise have been no more than a blip on the cultural radar into the buzziest “hidden gem” of the season – and “Blue Film,” a two-character psychosexual drama about an encounter between a male sex worker and a much-older client, is a perfect example. The debut feature of filmmaker Elliot Tuttle, it was rejected for inclusion at last year’s Sundance and SXSW festivals before finally premiering at the Edinborough International film fest; and even then, some audience members were walking out of the theater in disgust.

It’s easy to see why, really. The taboos it breaks run far deeper than just frank depiction of queer sexuality to rattle some among the ones most hard-coded into our cultural DNA, and the directness with which it pushes past our comfort zones is merciless. It begins with Aaron Eagle (Kieron Moore), a Los Angeles “fetish cam-boy” who specializes in financial humiliation and domination, proudly performing for his online fans by fondling his stacked physique on camera while deriding them with homophobic slurs and other forms of verbal abuse. He also taunts them by bragging that one of them is paying $50,000 to be abused in person overnight.

When he shows up for the gig, he’s greeted by an older man in a ski mask (Reed Birney), who wants to begin their session by asking him questions on camera about his personal life. Aaron agrees, but makes up the answers, only to have the client call out his lies; the mask soon comes off, revealing that the man behind it is Hank Johnson, a teacher who had been fired from Aaron’s home town middle school after attempting to molest a student in the boys’ restroom, and who confesses that he has spent his life savings to set up this meeting because he was once “in love” with Aaron from afar. Claiming he doesn’t want a sexual experience, but simply the chance to “get to know” each other and achieve a kind of closure in his old age, he convinces a wary-but-intrigued Aaron to stay, setting the scene for a night of charged conversation, true confessions, and secretive soul-baring, which leads them to discover unexpected common ground.

It’s clear from even the barest description that Tuttle’s movie is not designed for all audiences. Even within the “niche” of queer cinema, these are “problematic” characters: sex workers, despite years of growing acceptance and decriminalization, are still largely stigmatized by the culture at large; and as for convicted pedophiles, you’re more likely to find tolerance for them in the halls of government than on a big screen. Yet in “Blue Film,” these are the characters we get, and as a result, it’s a movie in which almost everything that is said or done has a layer – and often, several layers – that’s likely to be objectionable to someone in the audience.

That’s not by mistake. In his director’s statement, Tuttle calls his film an “essay on perversion,” born from “the accumulation of a lifetime of private thoughts regarding sex, fetish, and relationships,” and fueled by his frustration with what he calls the “conceptualization” of sex on the screen. His purpose in presenting a two-person “echo chamber” is an exploration of how these sexually stigmatized individuals find a “reckoning with the ways in which they can and cannot connect with those around them,” in which his explicit intention is to make sex on the screen “feel uncomfortable, scary, and laced with significance.” It’s safe to say that he succeeded.

Of course, it would be easy enough to stave off the discomfort “Blue Film” creates for us to sit in by dismissing the whole thing as deliberately sensational, if not for the fact that it’s so well done. Tuttle directs it like a thriller – a fitting approach, considering the uneasy dynamic between its characters, each of whom might easily be operating with malicious intent, and the generally “sketchy” circumstances of their arranged meeting – and he uses the resulting tension as a subliminal undercurrent that keeps us feeling unsettled. When things do begin to get sexy (because of course they do, Hank’s protestations of wholesome intent notwithstanding), he plays into the anticipated uneasiness of sexually squeamish viewers by layering in some particularly ominous strains from Isaac Eiger’s moody electronic score; it feels like we’re about to see something horrible, when in fact we don’t even get any full-frontal nudity.

In fact, it’s in these sexual moments – which, though explicit enough to get the point across, never feel pornographic – that “Blue Film” may deliver its most directly transgressive imagery. Though both men are adults, participating in consensual acts, what we are watching is probably the ultimate sexual taboo of all, not because of what we see but because we know the fantasy being played out in their minds. It’s unsettling, perhaps even for the most open-minded fetishists out there, yet in the unvarnished honesty with which the movie strives to deliver its uncomfortable truths, it somehow plays as something almost sweet.

As always in a film that presents characters who push the limits of our ethical and moral boundaries, the actors carry the weight of responsibility for transcending (or at least tempering) our judgment of them; in this case, the two star players face a monumental task, and they rise to it with unflinching commitment. Birney, a Tony-winning actor who also served as an executive producer on the film, has the more challenging burden, but he defies the odds by bestowing Hank with both the grace of a man who has learned how to endure shame and the cageyness that comes from a life of keeping it hidden. Moore, an up-and-coming British actor (recently seen in the gays-in-the-military series, “Boots”), leans into the aggressive toxicity of his fetish “Dom” persona with a ferocity that makes the “sub” vulnerability he slowly makes visible feel even more delicate; indeed, they both navigate the spectrum of that dynamic in a way that emphasizes its subtle fluidity, and “Blue Film” could not work without their contributions.

But work it does, for those who are able to get past their many layers of discomfort over its subject matter; it will speak most directly to those who have already come to embrace their own alternative sexualities, who understand that sex work can be empowering, who recognize that forbidden desires are not a choice and can find empathy for those who must live with them. Still, a movie that acknowledges (among other things) the validity of rape fantasies, the ancient cultural traditions of pederasty, and the transcendence of self-loathing through fetish is a movie that has appeal for only a particular kind of viewer; and with “Blue Film” coming to VOD platforms June 12, you’re the only one who can decide if you’re one of them.