2025 Queer Cinema Highlights

While other years may have had major Oscar-contending queer films or major studios positioning queer narratives in their awards lineup, this was the year for independent, international, and unconventional movies that showcase a true range of what queer filmmaking can be. The following ten films, listed alphabetically and not by preference, are just a sampling of what 2025 had to offer, with many more available if you just dig beneath the surface.

Cactus Pears

In the wake of his father’s passing, Anand and his mother return from Mumbai to his hometown village where his extended family lives. The required grieving ritual includes rules like not trimming hair and not eating more than two meals (but snacking on fruit is okay). During this ten-day period, Anand reconnects with Balya, his “special friend,” as they rekindle feelings that have long laid dormant. The film mirrors aspects of director Rohan Parashuram Kanawade’s own life and the grieving process he also went through. Anand has come out to his parents but not to his extended family. Whisperings around him put more pressure on his mother than on himself, knowing that he can build his own life while she’s tied to the expectations of those around her. This sense of attunement is consistent throughout, carrying a striking sense of place and time. Cactus Pears shines in the details; it’s the sly smiles that both men exchange, the moments they choose to touch, and how Anand eats a fruit given to him by Balya. Characters demonstrate care through meticulously observed moments of expression, not in the secrecy and shame so commonly depicted in coming-out narratives. It doesn’t come as a surprise that the film won the World Cinema Grand Jury Prize for a drama at Sundance Film Festival earlier this year.

Castration Movie Anthology ii: The Best of Both Worlds

Castration Movie Anthology ii: The Best of Both Worlds sounds both made up and completely unrealistic on paper—a 5-hour sequel to a 4.75-hour lo-fi film, filmed in Hi8 as a trans mumblecore that’s part of a planned four-part anthology. Yet it is vibrant, hilarious, and completely brilliant, materializing the impossible. The film follows Michaela “Traps” Sinclair as she attempts to leave a trans separatist cult in New York called Polygon, where an AI-generated YouTuber guides each member. Michaela makes a brief escape to the real world, where she encounters a variety of gender ideologists and detransitioners including Ivy Wolk (Anora, and most recently The English Teacher) who adds a signature sense of discomforting humor. The film features a wide array of recognizable faces from queer media, including Jack Haven (I Saw the TV Glow), Theda Hammel (Stress Positions), and Lea Rose Sebastianis (In a Violent Nature). It plays like a dark B-side to the first Castration Movie, but has its own identity that doesn’t require viewers to watch the first iteration (though they absolutely should). Castration Movie sounds off-putting in comparison to many end-of-year award contenders but that’s the point; there’s a radical artistry in the patience, in the grainy look, and the prolonged scenes that make watching the film an experience you can’t forget.

The Chronology of Water

Adapted from Lidia Yukanatich’s 2011 memoir of the same name, The Chronology of Water chronicles Lidia’s (Imogen Poots) chaotic life, from her abusive childhood and career as a competitive swimmer to her pivot as a writer. Each arch is underscored through intense imagery captured through 16mm footage, whispered dialogue, and harsh sounds, creating sensorial landscapes that give more weight to affective depictions than narrative articulation. This experiential approach is actress Kristen Stewart’s first foray into directing a striking film, rupturing images and distilling scenes into an almost dreamlike haze. The composite materials are still incredibly harsh, with many moments of blood, violence, vulgarity, and gruesome imagery that build toward a raw depiction of femininity, sexuality, and desire. The Chronology of Water becomes an overwhelming experience—one that is entirely unique, escaping the trappings of a “tone poem” through an incredible lead performance by Imogen Poots (also featured in this year’s Hedda) that consistently grounds the viewer as the film scurries across timelines to connect the fragments of Lidia’s life and traumas. It becomes clear why the actress has been chasing after this adaptation since announcing the passion project in 2018.

Fucktoys

After a swamp tarot card reading from Big Freedia reveals that sex worker AP (Annapurna Sriram) is cursed, she goes on a rowdy and crass multi-day adventure trying to break the hex through any means necessary. Taking cues from Gregg Araki, John Waters, and other beacons of transgressive queer cinema, Sriram, who also wrote and directed the film, emerges as a brilliant talent, creating a world of her own that begs to be lived in. Trashtown is littered (literally) with dives, divas, and leather cops, filmed in vibrant 16mm that feels dreamy without becoming overly romantic or sentimental. Here, violence can be both playful and painful, with sex as an act of joyful domination and humiliation. Each multiplicity is rooted in reality as Sriram uses the neon-trash aesthetic to make the familiar foreign. The film takes AP and her love interest, Danni, from a dilapidated house party to a mansion to a strip club, creating spectacle without losing the central tension of the precarious nature of sex work.

Hedda

Nia DaCosta (Candyman, 28 Years Later: The Bone Temple) adapts Henrik Ibsen’s classic play Hedda Gabler with a new queer dimension, gender-swapping Hedda’s (Tessa Thompson) love interest of Eilert for Eileen (Nina Hoss). Hedda takes place across a single night, tracing tensions as they boil during a party thrown by recently married Hedda and her husband, where Eileen, Hedda’s former love interest, makes an appearance. The titular character is a trickster herself, spinning characters around and causing chaos, deciding if Eileen still has feelings for her or if she should be crushed entirely. While the original’s commentary on gender and class are maintained, the dimensions of sexuality are brilliantly woven throughout as the unspoken taboo that gives Hedda and Eileen power while making them vulnerable. Both lead performances anchor the film, but the film’s direction propels it forward, meticulously balancing the levels of turmoil before fully descending into chaos. The choice to omit “Gabler” from the title is a fascinating dissection. Ibsen’s Hedda is referred to as “Hedda Gabler” (her maiden name) and “Hedda Tesman” (her married name), referencing the father and husband who exert patriarchal power over her. DaCosta’s “Hedda” is free from both connotations as she decides her fate divorced from past or present. 

Heightened Scrutiny

Heightened Scrutiny follows Chase Strangio, the ACLU attorney who argued in the U.S. v. Skrmetti case, making history as the first trans lawyer to argue in front of the Supreme Court. The film centers on the first date of oral arguments, December 4, 2024, but it traces the process back to the moment the Court took the case. Notably, the film ends before the decision has been made, giving an incredibly different feeling now that we know how the justices ruled in the Tennessee-based case, and how it impacts trans youth today. Director Sam Feder (Kate Bornstein Is a Queer & Pleasant Danger, Disclosure) is more interested in making a tool to educate about the machinations of manufactured consent that led so many states to adopt anti-trans legislation. The film’s political stance is not to defend the right of trans youth to access gender-affirming care, but to explore why this is even a point of debate in the first place. Heightened Scrutiny acts as an inflection point, illuminating a transitory moment in history that is instructive for the future. It allows viewers to sit with the recent facts and piece together how agendas are advanced, with the hope that we can then use that knowledge to protect queer and trans rights.

Misericordia

Director Alan Guiraudie (Stranger by the Lake) returns with Misericordia, one of the best-directed films of the year. The movie follows Jérémie (Félix Kysyl) as he returns to a small town in France upon hearing of the death of his friend’s father. What begins as a short visit extends indefinitely as his presence causes a ripple effect that results in an act of violence. We see just a few characters in the village: the mother, the son, the local priest, the childhood friend, and the two police officers. They intersect at exact moments, escalating both the tension and sense of humor as a comedy-of-errors ensues. Jérémie chameleons himself around each main player, reluctantly embodying (to the best of his ability) their desires, sexual or otherwise. Guiraudie knows exactly how to position the audience, moving from thriller to comedy through his deployment of Candide-like levels of absurdism. Misericordia is queer in every sense, showcasing what queerness can represent outside of the realm of sexual desire: a sense of possibility, oddity, and freedom.

Move Ya Body: The History of House

Director Elegance Bratton (Pier Kids, The Inspection) details the history of house music in Chicago through the Black and brown queer musicians who created not only the music but the clubs and ecosystems that allowed the genre to thrive. Much of this celebrated documentary connects how disco informed house, and how both became targets by white listeners as another way to discriminate. Most famously, the Disco Demolition Night was a lightning-rod moment in the genre’s relationship to popular culture, encouraging mob-like behavior to physically destroy vinyl disco records in violent displays. Yet from this destructive act, budding musicians and music producers Vince Lawrence and Jesse Saunders were able to create a new genre to play at the underground club The Warehouse. Bratton does a fantastic job of incorporating the voices of those involved from all angles, allowing each interlocutor to narrate their own events. It’s a small filmic turn that allows creators like Lawrence and Saunders to celebrate their own work while the collaborators who took advantage of them reveal unpleasant truths about their involvement. Move Ya Body never forgets who made the music, who the music is for, and who wanted to claim the music, understanding that the playbook of disco and house music are the same.

Mysterious Gaze of the Flamingo

Diego Céspedes’s feature directorial debut takes place in a small mining town in Chile in 1982, where a group of trans women are accused of cursing the local men through capturing their gaze, imposing some sort of blight that eventually ends their life. To avoid infection, the men of the town cover their eyes when the women go outside, but still venture to meet them at night when their urges get the better of them. Twelve-year-old Lidia and her adoptive mother, Flamingo, are at the center, as the former struggles to understand the sickness that has enveloped her mother and is taking hold of her community. Told in quiet surrealism with astounding performances, Céspedes blends humor, genre, and history together to tell a visually arresting and emotionally affective story about the early years of the AIDS crisis.

Twinless

James Sweeney’s Twinless explores the relationship between two twins, Roman and Dennis, who lose their respective brothers and rely on each other for the kinship that they lost. It becomes quickly evident that something is not quite right. Dennis’s behaviors begin to escalate as Roman comes to understand what he needs in life and becomes less dependent on the relationship he’s formed. Dylan O’Brian plays both twins Roman and Rocky, showcasing a range of talent that won him the Best Actor prize at Sundance Film Festival earlier this year. Sweeney, who wrote, directed, and stars in the film, captures a level of discomfort in desire, veering occasionally into a level of cringe-inducing anxiety that’s both entertaining and mildly terrifying. It’s a difficult film to pin down, which is to the film’s credit: it’s squirmy in how it circumnavigates genre lines to present slightly unpleasant characters who all deal with loneliness in varying degrees. 

Other films deserving of mention are Trương Minh Quý’s achingly beautiful Viet and Nam, Andrew Ahn’s reimagining of Ang Lee’s classic The Wedding Banquet, and Emma Hough Hobbs and Leela Varghes’s wacky animated sci-fi adventure Lesbian Space Princess.