QUEERS AT THE MOVIES: 1919-1948 by PIOTRINO
SHADOW AND LIGHT: THE UNDERSTATED QUEERNESS IN THE GOLDEN AGE OF CINEMA
What do we look for when we observe a work of art? What resonates with us as the audience? How does our own individuality shape our perception of films and how do we analyze them in a broader context? Well, what you see in a film often depends on the angle you choose to look at it from. A queer reading of a movie is one way of approaching that issue. Many people would get shocked or offended by the simple notion that a film might have, as little as, homosexual subtext in it, let alone openly queer characters.
But it has been there since the dawn of cinema. Most queerness in early films is subliminary, understated and symbolic, more of a wink to the audience in the know, than a central plot point. If finding those elements in old cinema is what you’re after, you just need to know what to pay attention to.
Devil’s in the details after all. The devil being the queer, obviously.
Let’s discover some old school queers lurking on the silver screen.
The queer element is inseparable from film as far as artistic expression goes. Films were dressed, choreographed, written and performed by queer artists since the beginning of cinema. “Salome” from 1925 is an excellent display of flamboyance, excess, theatricality and androgyny shrouding the story by the notorious homosexual Oscar Wilde. His transgressive artistry and sensibilities were turned into a campy sparkling spectacle nearly a 100 years ago. Other films had an occasional secret lesbian like in 1929’s „Pandora’s Box”, a cigar smoking butch gal in the passing in „Ladies They Talk About” in 1933, or an elegant, mischievous Joel Cairo, who carries gardenia scented business cards in „Maltese Falcon” in 1940. There has been a faint glimmer of visibility of queerness since the early years of cinema.
Why just a glimmer? Well, it originated from the Big Bang of queer cinema in 1919 when the first film about homosexuality became a box office hit in Germany. „DifFerent From the Others” by Richard Oswald featured the handsome Conrad Veidt in a story of an artistic gay couple who led a serene, loving and caring life spending time walking together, playing music together and unfortunately getting blackmailed to death for it. „Different From the Others” was made with support from the scientific society of Germany and was aimed to counterweight the omnipresent homophobic propaganda and criminalization of same sex love. Naturally such sympathetic approach to the depiction of gays as harmless people did not agree with the conservative and fascist movements of the time, so the film had been classified as obscene material. Later forbidden, confiscated and largely destroyed due to its perceived harmful nature. As if that were to forever prevent filmmakers from spreading values of self expression, human rights and freedom. Unfortunately, there is not a single complete copy of the film remaining today, but you are reading about it now so the bold attempt of cultural erasure failed. Despite the film’s initial success the vocal advocacy for human rights for non-straight people was dismantled. Film queers were censored and forced back into hiding, only breaking through the cracks, slipping a bit of gay here and there in films to come.
When talking about cinema’s queer firsts let’s take a look at a silent film „Wings” from 1927. A Hollywood production set in the battlefields of WWI, where two soldiers David and Jack compete for the affection of Mary. However, it is heavily hinted throughout the film that there is more going on between the two men than just straight friendship. The ambiguity of their relationship is settled in a scene after Jack accidentally shoots down David’s plane. On Dave’s deathbed they freeze in a loving embrace and kiss on the lips before David takes his last breath. „Wings” was the first film to show two men kissing on screen and on top of that, it was the first film ever to win an Oscar in the Best Picture category.
An amazing achievement that would not be in the cards for any queer-flavored film for the next 93 years, that is until “Everything Everywhere All At Once” won the Best Picture in 2022. A notable example of an in-your-face queer presence on screen is „Morocco” starring Marlene Dietrich and Gary Cooper which premiered in New York City on December 6, 1930 to great praise. Before the movie fully focuses on the love story between the two protagonists, it is Dietrich’s character - Amy Jolly that really catches the eye. She plays a woman who refuses all romantic advances from men. She is a nightclub entertainer and stands in strong contrast to the impresario of the venue where she performs in male drag. While the impresario frantically waves his fan, gets on hysterical rants and wears jewelry, including an impressive diamond pin, Amy Jolly wears a top hat, a tuxedo, smokes cigarettes, menspreads and kisses women on the lips, all during a brief stage performance. In under 4 minutes she goes from being booed by the crowd for being a woman dressed as a man, to receiving a standing ovation from the crowd. Seems a little raunchy for the 1930s, right? Well, no. Not really, or not yet at least. It is all because between 1930 and 1934 ground rules of cinematic censorship were solidified in the USA. Hays Code regulated the contents of films in order to prevent the deprivation of the fragile American public. So gays and other queers had to go. Again. All kinds of queerness was banned from the big screen and it had to discreetly slip even deeper into the subtext if it were to keep existing. If you really wanted a queer in your film, then you had to make sure you depicted them as a crazy murderous criminal that gets punished. If that was the case, showing a bit of gay was OK.
Two years after „Morocco” „The Sign of the Cross” by the great Cecil B. DeMille premiered. The film follows a story about love and faith in the Roman Empire. Somehow, despite its religious bias, it contains some instances of homoeroticism due to some nude male servants scattered around and intimate situations occurring between women. In one instance Empress Poppaea played by Claudette Colbert is having a donkey-milk-bath surrounded by her female servants as she receives a visit from Dacia, who brings some hot gossip to the Empress. That prompts the domina to send her servants away and orders Dacia to take off her clothes and join her in the tub. Poppaea even calls her friend a “butterfly with a sting of a wasp” (just what kind of a sting did the Empress mean remains a cinematic mystery) swiftly followed by a voyeuristic camera angle focusing on Dacia’s legs while she undresses and, shockingly for 1932, the shot lingers on her nude ankle as the lady takes off her high heel shoe. How erotic. Moreover, that striptease is cut together with a shot of two fuzzy pussy cats sipping the milk from the tub where the two gals go splashin’. The interpretation lies in the eyes of the beholder.
In the second half of this epic, at a banquet, where „the most wicked and talented woman in Rome” - Ancaria, played by Joyzelle Joyner, is encouraged by the partygoers to perform an erotic Dance of the Naked Moon to seduce the delicate Christian girl Mercia, played by Elissa Landi. The decadence of Romans, is clearly marked by their encouragement of homosexuality and sexual promiscuity. Ancaria goes on to call Mercia a „model of purity frozen with virtue” and mocks her for being a virgin (who can’t drive [sic]). Unfortunately for the Romans, her sexually charged performance got interrupted by the singing of Christians led to the arena dungeon to await execution. So. Much. Drama.
The 1930s marked a switchpoint in queer cinema for sure. Since homosexuality was censored and criminalized directors and writers had to find clever ways of putting gay-flavoured stories on screen, to avoid a professional and social suicide. One of those directors was James Whale who created some of the most iconic gothic horror superstars of all time by directing two famous classics: „Frankenstein” in 1930 and „The Bride of Frankenstein” in 1935. The first one being an eternal classic of gothic storytelling, where a male scientist becomes a godlike figure with the power to create life on his own.
The second film features two such scientists who create life together. In „The Bride of Frankenstein” Dr. Pretorius is a pushy scientist and a drama queen, that wants to tempt Dr Frankenstein to create a female mate for his existing Monster, but Frankenstein is reluctant and would rather focus on his relationship with his bride-to-be, yet hasn’t got a choice and must join Pretorius on his quest of unnatural procreation. Besides the premise, this film is an excellent example of camp in early cinema, a B movie, a dark comedy that presents us with comedic pacing, silly situations and grotesque violence that looks as if Bugs Bunny was committing it himself. Interestingly, at a certain moment even the most campy of the film’s characters – Minnie, refers to the monster as “very queer looking”. Very on point. It takes one to know one, Minnie. Also, side note, everyone keeps telling Minnie to shut up, which is hysterical to see in a nearly 90 year old movie.
„The Bride of Frankenstein” had to be heavily rewritten to please the censors, so in the end the charlatan sissy Dr Pretorius dies, and Dr Frankenstein goes off to marry his bride instead of gutting her heart out and placing it in the female Monster, as it was initially envisioned. The final version of the film was the only acceptable and family friendly version that could have been made in 1935. The sacred institution of marriage was saved and the unnatural outcasts died.
It is important to note that James Whale lost his career shortly after directing „Bride of Frankenstein” because he refused to live a closeted life in Hollywood. Whale lost his livelihood because of being himself. However, he was a Modern Prometheus to his contemporary movie-going-queers and gave all of us a cinematic Frankenstein’s Monster – an archetype of queer experience as a mute, unwanted, unnatural, rejected and hated outcast. Nonetheless, it is worth noting that the monster is one of only two pure souls in the film, so granted that he has one, it could be taken as a compliment.
Another stellar example of a cinematic gothic monster queer, after the censorship kicked in is a lady-loving-lady-monster Countess Zaleska – a title character from the 1936 film „Dracula’s Daughter” played by Gloria Holden. After her father’s death, the Countess finally feels liberated from the burden of her dad’s monstrous legacy. She is an independent, strong and liberated modern woman, who engages in ambiguous relations with women. She seduces them, makes them undress and puts them under her hypnotic spell with the help from her magical shiny lesbian ring. Occasionally decrying her nature to her psychotherapist, while being unable to overcome it. Despite all that queer hocus-pocus the film managed to be put to screens! That is because the lesbian protagonist gets killed by her own henchman a.k.a the sinner got what she deserved. Still, the character remains remembered as another iconic gothic queer figure and remains one of the most eminent lesbian representations on screen.
„The Seventh Victim” of 1943 presents us with the character of Jacqueline Gibson whose otherness is highlighted by her long black fur, paired with her long black bob hair, framing her chalk-like complexion. In addition, the room she rents is equipped with nothing but a chair and a noose – nothing good can come out of that combination, can it? Jacquline, played by Jean Brooks, goes missing so her sister hits the city to look for her and on the way she stumbles upon a Satanic cult that Jacqueline used to be a part of.
One of the female cult members even says about missing Jacqueline: “We were intimate. The times we used to have together, I bet she never told you about that. You're too young.”
A scandalous confession accentuated by Chopin’s nocturne playing in the background while the protagonist is trying to wrap her head around the indecent revelation. Throughout the movie Jacqueline is revealed to be an outcast too queer even for the worshipers of Satan.
Dear Reader, do you remember the forbidden list of indecent material on which „Different From the Others” landed after its premiere? Well, some of the Satanists in „The Seventh Victim” are known to have borrowed adult content books from the local library, which further proves their depravity. How scandalous. How queer.
To wrap up our little journey through the early period of queer presence in cinema, I would like to mention an art piece from the master of suspense himself: Alfred Hitchcock. „Rope” premiered in 1948 and remains one of Hitchcock’s biggest box office flops.
The story takes an angle on two young men who are throwing a dinner party: Brandon and Philip, who in the opening scene of the film strangle a former classmate, just because, as self-proclaimed superior people, they claim they can. The gay duo of killers grunts and shivers, as if in a post-coital release, they light a cigarette, keep the lights off and stay still for a while after the fact. They even describe the sensation of strangling another man comparatively to describing an exhilarating sexual act. To emphasize the closeness between the protagonists, the camera blocking and choreography keep the two characters often super close to one another, almost overlapping, leaning on each other, whispering and gripping each other on occasion. To add some more excitement, Hitchcock introduces another gay-coded character of Rupert, played by Jimmy Stewart. A former prep-school housemaster of the young killer duo. He shares their sensibilities, with the exception of the murderous instinct. Brandon invited Rupert over to challenge himself, to see if he could get away with murder for real, as his old housemaster seems to be the only person the protagonist considers his equal. Eventually Rupert is the one to unveil the vicious crime in this story of dominance, moral decay and superiority, of competition between men and pleasure coming from inflicting pain onto one another. Fun fact: Hitchcock featured other presumably queer characters in some of his other films including „Psycho”, „The Birds”, „The Lady Vanishes”, „North by Northwest” and „Rebecca”, but that is a topic to be explored some other time.
In conclusion, Hitchcock’s „Rope” is a great illustration of the issue of perception and the art of seeing. In „Rope” there are nine characters, one of which is dead, three are gay and the rest are kept in the dark about what’s going on. This setup is very helpful to fully understand the perception of queeness in film. Suppose that the filmmakers are like the arrogant diner host Brandon: they throw a show for spectators to enjoy, which they do only on a superficial level. However, in every crowd there is a Rupert. That Rupert is there for the director to get caught and exposed. As a viewer, be a Rupert. Immerse yourself into what you see on screen and give the filmmakers, and yourself, the satisfaction of seeing through their charade. Read between the lines and see what’s underneath the surface.
The gears of the cinematic industry started turning for queer audiences in 1919, they got jammed, then slowly were oiled back into operation and eventually they pushed representation to the front of film posters. Nowadays there is an infinity of queer-flavored films, some good, some not. However, despite today’s cinematic landscape full of trash and wasted frames, where films are consumed – not watched, keep in mind that there is a whole world of old school cinema from which we can learn to make better films today. Enrich them by bringing vulnerability and queer sensibility into making the Cinema of Tomorrow. Remember - there is no algorithm for self expression.
Story by PIOTRINO @thepiotrino
Illustrations by Marco Dionisio Kakoliris @thearqueertect