‘Sheer outrageousness’: writers on their favourite LGBTQ+ movie characters

‘Sheer outrageousness’: writers on their favourite LGBTQ+ movie characters

El Hunt

Sheer outrageousness - When it comes to lesbian cinema, I’d rather watch a vibrant heist film than a quiet period drama where women sit in dim lighting, clutching corsets and swaying in candlelit rooms. The drama is palpable, the stakes high, and the chemistry electric. Consider Bound, the 1996 cult classic that introduced us to Corky, a magnetic ex-con turned plumber who becomes the center of a daring crime spree. Her presence isn’t just bold—it’s

“Sheer outrageousness”

in every sense. Trapped in a literal closet at the start of the film, Corky’s transformation from prisoner to partner-in-crime is as seamless as it is inspiring. She carries herself with unapologetic confidence, flaunting a labrys tattoo and sipping beer in dive bars, embodying a queer archetype that was refreshingly unashamed for its time. Her journey, which culminates in a joyous escape with her new love, feels like a rebellion against the era’s narrow portrayals of queerness. Corky’s simplicity as a queer icon is remarkable—she’s a character who didn’t need to overexplain her identity, yet she radiates authenticity. Her influence echoes in films like Bottoms and Love Lies Bleeding, where the spirit of unfiltered queer joy continues to thrive.

Juan A Ramirez

The charm of Mrs Doubtfire lies in its unassuming yet transformative portrayal of queer life. While the film is often remembered for Robin Williams’ iconic performance, the character of Frank Dillard—played by Harvey Fierstein—remains an overlooked gem. As the flamboyant, self-assured gay brother of Daniel Hillard, Frank becomes a symbol of resilience and creativity. His role as a makeup artist, crafting disguises for his brother’s drag act, is both practical and symbolic. In a time when HIV/AIDS dominated cultural discourse, this film dared to feature a gay character who wasn’t defined by sorrow or tragedy. Instead, Frank is a happily partnered man, whose relationship with his brother’s children is endearing and unassuming. The idea that a gay man could be the expert in transforming his sibling into a whimsical, octogenarian version of himself is quietly radical. It’s a story about love, sacrifice, and the power of reinvention. The film’s setting—a suburban Ohio household—adds a grounding touch to the surreal premise, making the celebration of queer identity feel both intimate and universal.

Louis Staples

Divine, the towering figure of John Waters’ “Trash Trilogy,” is a character who demands attention. Known for her towering presence and theatrical flair, she embodies the essence of drag as both art and defiance. As the drag persona of Harris Glenn Milstead, Divine steals the spotlight in Pink Flamingos, the 1972 film that remains a cult favorite. Her role as the “filthiest person alive” is a masterclass in eccentricity—stealing babies, eating raw eggs, and cackling through chaos with a wink. The film’s audacity is unmatched: it dares to explore themes of sexuality, gender, and identity with no apologies. When the Marbles, two antagonists played by David Lochary and Mink Stole, plot to dethrone Divine, they underestimate her sheer, unrelenting brilliance. Her character is a celebration of queer expression, unbound by convention or expectation. Even today, Divine’s legacy as a cinematic icon is undeniable, her defiance of norms a testament to the power of self-creation.

Miriam Balanescu

There’s a unique kind of warmth in seeing queer characters who reflect our tender, introspective moments. Yet, there’s equal excitement in stories that embrace the unfiltered thrill of queer identity. Bound and Mrs Doubtfire are often highlighted for their groundbreaking roles, but I’d argue that the true magic lies in the way these films balance vulnerability with audacity. Take, for instance, the character of Eric in The Tarnished Angels (1993). He’s a suburban teen with a quirky, earnest approach to love and self-discovery. His attempts to recreate Boy George’s style at a local gay bar, while not entirely successful, are heartfelt and genuine. The film’s script, written by Todd Stephens, is a love letter to queer coming-of-age, intertwining personal growth with the act of self-expression. Eric’s journey isn’t just about finding a partner—it’s about defining who he is, unapologetically, in a world that often tries to shrink queer identities. His messiness, his heart, and his unshakable belief in his choices make the story feel authentic and alive.

Another standout is Mrs Doubtfire’s Frank Dillard, whose flamboyant nature and practical skills make him a standout figure. His expertise in makeup and prosthetics isn’t just a plot device—it’s a metaphor for the ways queer people often navigate the world, blending artistry with adaptability. The film’s ability to present a gay character as both a source of humor and a symbol of family love is remarkable. It’s a testament to how storytelling can challenge stereotypes while offering comfort. Similarly, Divine’s role in Pink Flamingos is a masterstroke of cinematic daring. Her combination of high art and lowbrow humor, paired with her unyielding confidence, makes her a cultural touchstone. The film’s audaciousness in depicting a gay man as the embodiment of excess and eccentricity is still revolutionary today.

These characters remind us that LGBTQ+ cinema doesn’t need to be confined to niche genres or overly dramatic narratives. They thrive in a variety of settings, from crime capers to suburban comedies, proving that queer stories can be as diverse as the communities they represent. Corky’s defiance, Frank’s expertise, Eric’s earnestness, and Divine’s theatricality each offer a different lens through which to view identity and desire. Their stories are not just about love or rebellion—they’re about the courage to be seen, unapologetically, in a world that often tries to erase them. As we continue to explore new narratives, these characters remain vital references, their impact echoing through decades of film and culture.

Finally, the underappreciated beauty of queer cinema is its ability to blend the personal with the universal. Whether it’s a suburban teen’s journey of self-fulfillment or a drag queen’s reign of chaos, these stories resonate because they speak to the core of what it means to be queer. They’re not just entertainment—they’re a celebration of resilience, creativity, and the unbreakable spirit of those who dare to live authentically. Each of these characters, in their own way, redefines what it means to be seen, loved, and celebrated in the world of film.