In times of trouble, movies can offer us a chance – temporarily, at least – to escape our worries. Sometimes, though, escape is not the answer. When the political climate turns stormy, they can also be a lifeline, connecting us with our history and helping us to clarify where we’ve been, where we need to go, and how we might manage to get there. With that in mind, here’s a list of great movies about LGBTQ activism, each with particular relevance to the cultural challenges we face as America braces itself for another round of Trumpism – because besides educating us about our past, they have the power to inspire us as we prepare to fight for our future.

Pride (2014) 

Perhaps ironically, the first title (and only non-documentary) on our list is not an American tale, but a true story from the UK, a fictionalized chronicle of Lesbians and Gays Support the Miners (LGSM) – a group of LGBTQ activists who allied with striking coal miners in Thatcher-era Britain. Directed by Matthew Warchus and written by Stephen Beresford, it balances humor and gravitas as it follows a young, still-closeted student (George MacKay) and his involvement with a group of queer activists who decide to raise money to support Welsh miners impacted by the British Mining Strike of 1984. Despite initial hostility from the miners, a coalition is forged that lends strength to both causes, ultimately leading to the incorporation of gay and lesbian rights into the official Labour Party platform. An infectiously thrilling portrayal of the transformative power of solidarity, it’s a film that exemplifies the importance of intersectionality and the need for diverse marginalized communities to unite and take collective action against oppression. The message? We are stronger together than we are apart. Also starring Bill Nighy, Imelda Staunton, Dominic West, and Andrew Scott, it’s as entertaining as it is inspiring, a “feel-good” movie that also fires us up to stand firm against the forces of bigotry and repression.

The Times of Harvey Milk (1984)

No, we’re not dissing Gus Van Sant’s excellent 2008 biopic “Milk,” featuring Sean Penn’s star turn in the title role and Dustin Lance Black’s eloquent screenplay (both of which snagged Oscars), but for our purposes here, this documentary from director Rob Epstein – which won an Oscar itself – provides a less romanticized account of Milk’s life and work. The first openly gay elected official in California, he successfully fought against the discriminatory “Briggs Initiative” (famously championed by beauty-queen- turned-OJ-spokesmodel Anita Bryant), which sought to ban gay teachers in public schools, something that feels particularly relevant during a time when conservative American politicians are aggressively working to remove LGBTQ content from schools and erode queer representation in politics. Though his 1978 assassination alongside San Francisco Mayor George Moscone (by fellow City Supervisor and political rival Dan White) is probably a more familiar piece of history in the public imagination today, it’s the groundbreaking LGBTQ advocacy he spearheaded that forms the centerpiece of his enduring legacy, something that the tragedy of his martyrdom should not be allowed to overshadow. This moving, intimate documentary – which weaves archival footage and interviews into a compelling narrative about the intersections of politics and identity, reminds us of the stakes when marginalized voices go unrepresented by our legislators, and features narration from queer icon Harvey Fierstein – provides a more detailed and authentic look at the great work he accomplished during his short tenure than Van Sant’s fictionalized historical drama.

How to Survive a Plague (2012)

If any film on our list should be considered a “must-see,” it’s this widely acclaimed documentary from filmmaker David France, which chronicles the activism of ACT UP and TAG during the height of the AIDS epidemic. Through archival footage and testimonials, it follows the real-life activists who fought for medical treatments and government accountability in a time when their community was suffering a devastating loss, highlighting key figures like Peter Staley and Larry Kramer and providing a powerful portrait of a relentless advocacy effort that turned despair into action. With its themes of grassroots activism and equitable public health care, France’s auspicious directorial debut resonates deeply in today’s world, as queer communities face challenges in access to gender-affirming care and reproductive rights; seeing the tactics used by organizations like ACT UP to hold institutions accountable, modern activists can gain valuable insights about how to conduct strategic resistance against legislative attacks and discriminatory policies in public health care.

Call Me Kuchu (2012)

Not as well-known but equally resonant as the other films on our list, this doc from directors Katherine Fairfax Wright and Malika Zouhali-Worrall follows LGBTQ activists in Uganda, a country where homosexuality is criminalized, centering around the story of David Kato – the self-proclaimed “first gay man in Uganda.”After returning home from South Africa, where he “discovered gay life” for the first time, he started a non-profit LGBTQ organization  (Sexual Minorities Uganda) to “spread the word about homosexuality” and track instances of homophobia in his country; he went on to became a fearless advocate for queer rights, facing immense personal and legal persecution before ultimately losing his life to anti-gay violence. The film also tracks efforts by the Ugandan government to pass the Anti-Homosexuality Act, which was partially orchestrated through the influence of U.S.-based Christian conservatives at a workshop funded by the American fast-food chain Chick-fil-A, and was condemned internationally as the “Kill the Gays Bill,” due to its inclusion of a death penalty clause. Though its focus is on an African nation, the film has clear relevance to the global struggle for queer acceptance, warning against the advancement of anti-LGBTQ ideologies by hate groups “protecting traditional values” under the guise of religion, and reminding us of how the fight for queer rights is interconnected worldwide.

Paris Is Burning (1990)

Jennie Livingston’s documentary delving into New York City’s drag ball culture of the 1980s is now iconic, a celebrated queer classic that immortalizes a deeply influential social scene and illuminates the lives of Black and Latino queer individuals as they try to navigate systemic racism, homophobia, and poverty, with an emphasis on their artistry, their resilience, and the “chosen families” they gather around themselves. Featuring a host of ballroom legends (Pepper LaBeija, Dorian Corey, Venus Xtravaganza, and more), it reveals stories of both triumph and tragedy while amplifying the experience of queer joy; it would later provide inspiration for Ryan Murphy’s groundbreaking series “Pose” – but more importantly, this essential LGBTQ classic highlights the inequities that persist in society today, when drag culture faces legislative attacks and trans women of color continue to be disproportionately targeted by violence,

Each of these films offers essential insights on queer resistance, illuminating the ongoing struggles and triumphs of LGBTQ communities. As we face a reinvigorated attack on queer rights under a hostile administration, they offer us lessons on solidarity, activism, and resilience that suddenly seem more crucial than ever.

Watch and learn, children, because you might now be our only hope.

As we approach Thanksgiving 2024, it seems safe to say that holiday dinners with the family back home are going to be even more stressful than usual.

Those conversations with cousins and in-laws around the table have always been a minefield to navigate for queer people from traditional families. This year, knowing that the uncle seated across from you voted for somebody who might take away your hard-won rights is sure to make that turkey pretty hard to swallow. With scenarios like that looming large in our minds, there’s a particular twinge of poignance to be felt in watching “Close to You,” a Canadian film from writer/director Dominic Savage in which Elliot Page plays a trans man returning to his small-town family home for his father’s birthday after being away for nearly five years.

Sam (Page) has been living in Toronto, renting a room from a friend-and-surrogate-mother (Sook-Yin Lee) while exploring and adjusting to big-city life as a trans man; now, he’s ready to return home for the celebration, but nervous about the reception he might receive. On the train ride home, he runs into Katherine (Hillary Baack), his “bestie” from school, and the warm – if somewhat awkward – acceptance he feels from her buoys him as he goes on to face his father (Peter Outerbridge), mother (Wendy Crewson), and the siblings and significant others who make up his immediate family circle. 

Things go reasonably well, at first, with a warm welcome from Mum, a newfound acceptance from Dad, and a tentative rekindling of connection with his sisters (Janet Porter, Alex Paxton-Beesley), but increasingly aggressive provocations from a transphobic extended family member (David Reale) become difficult to ignore. He finds an escape and some solace with Katherine, who overcomes an initial reticence to reconnect further after their chance reunion reawakens the emotional bond they once shared; but the old feelings and resentments stirred within his family dynamic threaten to derail any chance of true reconciliation at home, reminding him of why he left in the first place.

Moody, raw, and tinged with a melancholy that asserts itself even in its happier moments, Savage’s movie conveys a tone as chilly as the slushy Canadian winter of its setting. It takes the audience in close – literally, in the sense that much of it is shot in close-up, tight on its players’ faces as if we were part of the conversation – to provide a tangible feeling of intimacy and connect us to the emotional perspective of everyone involved. Much of it has an improvisatory feel, with dialogue that sometimes feels tentative or choked with uncertainty, yet allows for the eruption of frequent outbursts and the resonance of eloquently expressed thoughts. And its authenticity is reinforced by a collection of superb performances, with Page (who co-authored the film’s story with Savage) giving a deeply felt star turn as Sam and a gifted ensemble of actors in support. All together, it creates an atmosphere that effectively evokes the feelings of helpless vulnerability that are familiar to so many of us, queer or straight alike, when we return to the scenes of a youth that we longed to escape.

For some viewers, in fact, the film’s constant feeling of low-frequency anxiety will likely be too much. For many, of course, it will hit close to home, and trigger traumatic memories; for those who can’t relate, it may all seem a bit too “doom and gloom,” and others might see its respectful treatment of a trans narrative as being agenda-driven or even dismiss it as “woke” – though truthfully, those who might do that are not likely to be watching it in the first place. 

Which is not to say that “Close to You” is a complete downer; there are plenty of uplifting moments, too, when connections shine through and we are reminded that, underneath all the confusion and misunderstandings that have strained Sam’s relations with his family, there is love – even if the characters themselves may not feel it in that moment. Nor does it put all the focus of his emotional wariness on his transness; on the contrary, much of the conflict is focused on feelings of isolation, of being judged for having a different focus to his life than the rest of his very traditional family, and other things which make him “different” that have nothing to do with his gender. It celebrates the value of “found” family in the glimpses it gives us of Sam’s other relationships, and even gives us a spark of unexpected romance. In many ways, it might even be seen as a “feel-good” movie, were it not for the sense of unanswered sadness that underpins it all.

That, perhaps, is what makes it resonate not just as a trans story (though it is certainly first and foremost that) but one about queer experience overall: the knowledge that, no matter what positive changes are made or how fully one embraces one’s truth and identity, there will always be people who will judge you for who you are. The problem isn’t within you – it’s within them, so it’s something you can’t fix, and there’s a sense of powerlessness that comes from that.

In the cultural climate that has been suddenly thrust upon us in America, that’s undoubtedly a realization that has been haunting many of our thoughts about who we can trust in a society that has repeatedly shown its willingness to cast us out. It’s for this reason that “Close to You” carries an additional impact for queer audiences that might have been intended at the time of its making; after all, that uncle across the Thanksgiving table may have treated you perfectly well your whole life, but when you know that his love for you was less than his concern over the price of groceries, it’s hard to trust him again – and we’ve just been given a sobering reminder that there is a chillingly large percentage of our friends and neighbors for whom the same can now be said.

“Close to You” premiered at the Toronto International Film Festival in 2023, and was released in Canada and the UK earlier this year, along with limited screenings in the U.S. It’s now available for home viewing via multiple VOD platforms.

If you are anywhere in the Queer rainbow and you grew up as a Catholic, it’s possible — if not likely — that your relationship with that religious institution might be, to put it mildly, conflicted.

Though there are voices within the church establishment today that endorse official acceptance of LGBTQ people and support their equality, for most of its history that has not been the case. Yet, it has also represented a sort of sanctuary for queer people who could avoid the otherwise socially mandated expectations around sexuality and gender by excluding themselves from the conversation — through ordainment into the service of the church and the convenient vow of celibacy that came with it.

While such a path may not be appealing to most queer spiritual seekers today, the church still looms large in the psyche of those brought up in its traditions, and revelations about the vast record of sexual abuse that has taken place behind its sanctified veil have only complicated things further. That’s one reason why the queer appeal of “Conclave” — the buzzy screen adaptation of Robert Harris’s 2016 novel from director Edward Berger — cannot be denied; perhaps, in some fictionalized story about the inner workings of the church at its highest level, some resolution might be found to the centuries-old struggle between sexuality and religious faith.

Packed into a brisk two-hour running time, it wastes not a single frame in conveying its narrative, which chronicles the election of a new Pope after the sudden death of the old one and explores the labyrinthine politics that underlie that highly secretive process. Tasked by his role as Dean of the College of Cardinals to preside over it all is Cardinal Lawrence (Ralph Fiennes), a stoic thinker whose recent resignation from his position over a crisis of faith was rejected by the late pontiff himself; nevertheless committed to conducting the titular proceedings — and hoping to advance the progressive vision of his church’s future represented by popular candidate Cardinal Bellini (Stanley Tucci) — he tackles his responsibilities with a full sense of commitment.

It’s a task that will require all his unbiased wisdom to complete. In direct opposition to Bellini is Cardinal Tedesco (Sergio Castellitto), a reactionary traditionalist who wants to return the church to the policies of its ancient past, with more “centrist” candidates Tremblay (John Lithgow) and Adeyami (Lucian Msamati) bringing additional layers of political nuance to the voting process. With the various contenders trying to manipulate the outcome in their favor and an unforeseen influence rising in the form of newly appointed Cardinal Benitez (Carlos Diehz), Lawrence must set aside his worldly concerns and seek the guidance he needs not only from his keen intellect and understanding of human nature, but from the very faith he struggles with, as well.

Constructed like an old-fashioned potboiler, a mystery set in the halls of power and woven through with political intrigue and private ambition, “Conclave” plays like the kind of classic Hollywood “prestige” movie guaranteed to stir liberal sentiments while couching them in a socially aware yet entertaining yarn. Like most dramas set within a religious context, it invites speculation about the “hidden hand” of the Almighty behind the story, providing an entry point for audiences seeking reassurance about their beliefs in the midst of all the skullduggery, and even delivering an ending that allows the devout to remain steadfast to their faith; it blends philosophical and intellectual sophistication into the kind of thriller which, like the stylized “whodunnits” of Agatha Christie, unearths all manner of human corruption behind the pomp and decorum of a fiercely protected status quo as it inexorably works its way to a clever and satisfying finish — shepherded by Lawrence, standing in for the more worldly “master detectives” created by Christie and other authors of her genre thanks to his sharp intellect and shrewd observational skills. As such, it inevitably provides the expected twists, hidden secrets, and clandestine alliances through which the “mystery” will eventually be traced, and while we can’t always see where it’s headed, it steeps us in a comfortable familiarity that feels predictable anyway.

Still, that’s not entirely a bad thing; the sum effect of “Conclave” rises far above its generic structure, and makes it easy to forgive its tendency toward formula-dictated storytelling. That’s partly due to Berger’s direction, which sculpts the movie’s overall impact through its meticulous attention to detail, immersing us in its world with a near-tactile depiction of the rarified Vatican environment — aided immeasurably by the exquisitely moody cinematography of Stéphane Fontaine, who delivers a richly intimate yet tantalizingly dark setting immersed in the kind of deep shadows that seem to invite conspiracy  — while putting an unwavering focus on the internal narrative of its characters and the sometimes murky motives that drive them. It’s also thanks to the screenplay by Peter Straughan, which crafts those characters as much through what they choose not to say as by what they do, while skillfully using them to explore culturally-relevant themes about the corrupting influence of power and the antiquated prejudices that still hold sway within its cloistered walls.

Most of all, however, the film’s ability to grip us and draw us in rests upon its actors, most particularly Fiennes, already an odds-on favorite for this year’s Best Actor Oscar, who gives a career-best performance as Lawrence, turning a character who might easily seem too good to be true into a layered, relatable “Everyman” that has our instinctive loyalty from the first moment we meet him. Tucci, Lithgow, and Msamati all have standout moments, and Diehz shines as the quiet and unassuming Benitez — but it’s Isabella Rossellini who almost walks away with “Conclave” with her largely silent performance as a Vatican nun who says very little but sees and hears everything.

All this A-list quality certainly succeeds in making Berger’s movie into an engaging, intelligent, and visually impressive piece of populist cinema; and even if its twisty-and-interconnected plot developments sometimes stand out as a little too apt to be believable, its strong points far outweigh those mainstream “compromises.” Still, what likely has made “Conclave” into the first must-see title of awards season is more about what is happening offscreen rather than off. Much of the Papal election it portrays reflects hard-to-miss parallels with the real-life presidential election, which, at the time of this writing, had yet to take place. From the sharp divide between progressive ideals and regressive conservatism to the entrenched misogyny, racism, and homophobia that inserts itself into the process, everything about this fictional Catholic thriller reminds us of the American political campaigns of 2024. And as for specific relevance for queer audiences, we don’t like spoilers — but we can venture to say that at least a few of the film’s surprise developments have a profound resonance with LGBTQ concerns.

Of course, that might not be enough by itself to add this one to your watchlist; but there’s enough food for thought to be found in it that it is worth your while, no matter what.

 “Conclave” is now playing in theaters.