There are innumerable reasons why the importance of queer cinema should never be taken for granted. The representation of LGBTQ+ people everywhere is paramount in allowing queer people to see that there are other individuals and groups like them. The retelling of queer history helps us remember those who came before us and fought for our rights, allowing us to enjoy the freedoms that we do today. It provides education for both those within the community and those beyond it on queer issues that affect LGBTQ+ people in present-day society, as well as having countless other values. However, one element of queer cinema that isn’t talked about enough is its unashamed celebration of gay sex. Queer cinema creates a space where gay sex is depicted free from homophobia, ridicule, and shame. These films allow gay men to see themselves experiencing the intimacy that they’re so often told is wrong and unnatural. Of course, it allows all members of the LGBTQ+ community a chance to see people just like them enjoying the pleasures of sex. For the purpose of this discussion, though, the body diversity of gay men in queer cinema will be the specific focus.
Ask any gay man who’s a fan of cinema and they’ll be able to reference countless gay sex scenes from films that mean something to them. Perhaps it’s because these scenes sparked a sexual awakening for them, or maybe they feature a character with a shared experience to theirs; it could just be that they find these particular scenes especially erotic. Gay sex on screen should be enjoyable, and queer audiences have taken delight in this for years. Its significance goes far beyond audience titillation, though, showing the power of human connection that’s possible for gay men as well as heterosexual ones.
There’s no shortage of sex scenes in queer cinema that hold meaning to gay men. One of the most groundbreaking scenes is Ennis (Heath Ledger) and Jack’s (Jake Gyllenhaal) rough campsite sex on the titular mountain from Ang Lee’s Best Picture nominee Brokeback Mountain (2005). Whilst already telling a queer love story to a wide audience, the inclusion of this scene starring popular A-list actors helped normalise gay sex on screen. A more recent example would be Kit (Henry Golding) and Lewis’ (Parker Sawyers) steamy Grindr hookup after sharing a drink together in Hong Khaou’s Monsoon (2019). This scene shows audiences how much more readily available gay sex can be in the modern age and how integral technology and apps are in this process.
Whilst these two examples are different in content, tone, and context, one thing that they, and many other examples, have in common is that they feature two more athletic-bodied, young, able-bodied men. So where is the diversity in gay sex on screen, specifically for those men with less athletic bodies, for those who are disabled, and for older gay men? In addition to these groups, queer cinema should always be pushing for more men of different races in sex scenes on screen as well. When considering the representation of racial minorities within already underrepresented groups, it shows a further lack of diversity as the limited examples are almost always exclusively white.
Alongside the aforementioned films, when you think of modern gay cinema, the same trend can be found. And Then We Danced (2019), Call Me By Your Name (2017), God’s Own Country (2017), Moonlight (2016), Weekend (2011)…the list really does go on. Many of these films are people’s favourite queer titles of all time, and they have gay sex scenes that audiences cherish. Search up any “Best Gay Sex Scenes in Queer Cinema” list and many of these titles will be mentioned. Although it’s great to celebrate these films, it is undeniable that they all contribute to the overarching problem of a lack of diversity within gay sex scenes on screen.
Where are the less athletic, disabled, and/or older gay men? When viewed individually, there’s no issue with these films, but when combined together and considered as a whole genre, it becomes a problem that there’s still little to no representation for these types of gay men. Those curated lists of the genre’s best sex scenes certainly don’t feature any scenes between less athletic, disabled, and/or older gay men, and these only exacerbate the idea that sex is only “hot” for young, athletic, able-bodied gay men. So when looking at the genre in this all-encompassing manner, it presents the idea that gay sex is exclusive: you can only participate in it if you’re under 40 and have a “perfect” body, complete with glistening abs and biceps to match.
Why does it matter, though? The need for more diversity is particularly important because queer young people rarely have the luxury of being able to openly learn about their sexuality. Growing up gay can be incredibly challenging, and many queer young people keep their sexual orientation hidden well into their adult life for a multitude of reasons. Gay youth often learn about sex through what they see on television and in films, as well as from watching pornography. It’s no secret that pornography is rife with unrealistic body standards, which only reinforce what is already seen in film and on TV. Admittedly, TV is definitely doing better than film in terms of its diversity. Series like Netflix’s Special, in which the central character Ryan (Ryan Hayes) is a gay man with cerebral palsy, or ITV’s Vicious, which stars Ian McKellen and Derek Jacobi as an elderly gay couple, offer progression in telling stories about underrepresented gay men. However, TV examples aside, having these ideas from film and pornography about what a gay man’s body should look like instilled from such a young age can lead to many issues for gay young people when they begin to navigate their own sex lives. Seeing only one type of body is a problem, and cinema must be held accountable for its lack of diversity in gay sex scenes.
However, this is an issue that is forever evolving, and the current generation of queer youth are far more liberated and open than previous generations have been able to be. The rise of more body-positive social media influencers, as well as sex workers using such platforms as OnlyFans, helps to showcase the wealth of diversity that should be seen within gay sex — namely less athletic, older, trans, and/or disabled gay men all having sex in a safe, sensual, and fun way. The silver screen needs to catch up with the example influencers and sex workers are setting, because cinema is lagging far behind the true reflection of attitudes towards gay sex in today’s community.
Beyond queer youth, it’s also a problem for the older and/or less athletic queer community who don’t see themselves enough on screen. It isn’t only queer youth who are closeted — this is a way of life for many gay men beyond their adolescence. In addition to this, there are many gay men who live out and proud, but more diversity is important for them too. It’s hard for these men to see only one kind of body in these scenes; they only represent one kind of gay man and therefore suggest that only one type of gay man is desirable. Older gay men with bellies deserve to feel attractive and desirable too, just as they are in real life. If they can’t see others like themselves on screen in more intimate moments, queer cinema is ultimately doing them an injustice. It’s making it harder for them to see themselves living happy, sex-positive, queer lives — and it has to change.
“But what about the times when older and/or less athletic gay men do feature in films?” I hear you protest. Yes, there are many times when these types of characters do appear; however, these characters often are most frequently seen outside of queer cinema. Harry Bright (Colin Firth) from Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again (2018), Oliver T’sien (Nico Santos) from Crazy Rich Asians (2018), and Damian Leigh (Daniel Franzese) from Mean Girls (2004) are just a few of the older and/or less athletic gay characters seen in mainstream films.
It’s true that gay characters are becoming more and more common in mainstream cinema, but it’s often rightfully noted that there’s a serious amount of development needed in the representation of these characters. They need to exist as more than just secondary characters whose sole purpose is comic relief or for ticking a representation box. Despite their appearances in films like these, this doesn’t help with the specific problem of body diversity in gay sex on screen, because they don’t have sex in these kinds of films. Their increased inclusion in mainstream cinema allows for studios and creative talent to present the idea that they’re being inclusive and to use this as a selling point. However, their insistence on consistently making less athletic and/or older gay men the butt of jokes creates a dangerous habit of making queer characters sexless. This is their way of “including” queer characters without them presenting a threat to heteronormative stories and the audiences they’re aimed at. When the only examples of less athletic and/or older gay characters are these, it makes the problem clearer. Namely, you can see these types of gay men in movies, you just won’t see them in the queer titles where they actually have sex.
However, this argument ignores that older men, rather than less athletic ones, are depicted in queer cinema as well. Supernova (2020), Pain and Glory (2019), Tucked (2018), Love is Strange (2014), and Beginners (2010) all include older gay men predominantly in leading roles. How many of these titles feature the older gay men having sex, though? That’s the issue. Queer films that feature this group of men seem to deal almost exclusively with illness or death, further contributing to the narrative that the only story worth telling about them is concerning their health, or in these cases, the lack of it. Where are the films about the healthy older men with thriving and sensual sex lives? Audiences need to see this in order to be reminded that old age doesn’t affect sex. Older gay men shouldn’t have to be complacent with the stereotype that their mortality is the only story of theirs that gets told, because they are just as deserving of seeing themselves experiencing the full range of human emotion and connection through sex as other men are.
The other exception seems to be if the film is based on a famous queer person. Take, for example, films about Oscar Wilde or Liberace — such as The Happy Prince (2018), Behind the Candelabra (2013), and Wilde (1997) — that show these less athletic and/or older men in gay sex scenes. Whilst this is great to see, these limited examples suggest that if your protagonist is fat or old, he also needs to be famous to receive any kind of substantial or varied representation on screen. The current state of queer cinema, and cinema as a whole, leaves a dangerous legacy that fat and old simply means funny or dying, when both should be able to mean sexy.
Thankfully, there are some examples of filmmakers who are putting these underrepresented men in their films. Eytan Fox’s drama Sublet (2020) is one film that sees a middle-aged man, travel writer Michael (John Benjamin Hickey), at the forefront of the narrative and enjoying sex on screen. There are moments in Camille Vidal-Naquet’s French sex-worker drama Sauvage (2018) that shows that less athletic, older, and/or disabled gay men can still be sexually active and still want to participate in the pleasures of sex. And whilst there’s no sex shown, Marielle Heller’s Can You Ever Forgive Me? (2018) does feature Jack Hock (Richard E. Grant), an older gay man who is clearly still sexually active, even if it is only implied rather than shown. But are these examples enough? Most certainly not. The random selection of any queer film featuring gay men leaves audiences with too high a likelihood that their main characters will be athletic, young, and able-bodied. Until this probability is changed, it will continue to contribute to the idea that gay sex is only for young, able-bodied men with chiseled physiques.
Therefore, it’s unquestionable that Hollywood has a long way to go in remedying this problem, and the lack of diversity in gay sex on screen has a lot to do with the representation of less athletic, disabled, and/or older gay men in general. We need more films with these kinds of gay men at the forefront of a greater variety of stories. Everyone deserves to see themselves on screen. When you watch films about your community but never see yourself represented, it has the potential to be incredibly harmful. These underrepresented groups of gay men are intrinsic to the makeup of the LGBTQ+ community in the real world; it’s time that queer cinema recognises them in sex scenes.
