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Many films this year celebrated queer community, and “Vulveeta” does so with honesty and humor. This hilarious mockumentary by Maria Breaux observes the titular band as they attempt to reunite after their glory days in the 1990s riot grrrl scene. Back under the direction of their egotistical but well-intentioned lead singer (cunningly played by Breaux), the band members have to heal old wounds and learn how to come together and make music again.
It’s a familiar story told with a witty single-camera style that allows Breaux to deliver comedic moments that are awkward, heartfelt, or both. For all its wicked barbs, “Vulveeta” keeps its cynicism under a comforting layer of delicious cheese. With a studied use of documentary tropes and witty, original songs (co-written with co-star StormMiguel Florez), Breaux cleverly honors the original music scene while also carving out a space for queer people within its legacy and history.
Where Breaux uses nostalgia to reconcile the past with today, others turn the camera around to help us reclaim the queer past. In Charlene A. Carruthers’ illuminating short “The Funnel,” our main character, Trina (Cat Christmas), has a vision in which a queer Black couple navigates a semi-private life in Chicago’s public housing during the early 1900s. Instantly immersed in a well-scripted world of code, we watch how a queer woman interacts with her neighbors and how they express their tolerance or indifference towards her. In mere minutes, we get the complete sense of a lived queer experience from the past with its secrets, anxieties, and life-giving moments of joy. When we’re snapped back to the present, we must hear well-intentioned people erase the queerness for their comfort. But like Trina, we’ve seen differently and thus can imagine differently.
Seeing and imagining differently is the essence of queer cinema. Carruthers recreates the past with discerning attention to historical detail. Other visionaries like Amanda Kramer explode our image of it through hyper-styled surrealism. Kramer’s visual talents compile camp elements from midcentury cinema and irons them together. The result is a kaleidoscopic trip to the past that comments on historical sexuality while remaining contemporary.
Kramer’s “Please Baby Please” is a fluorescent tear through the 1950s and ’60s, a soundstage extravaganza of one couple’s demented emergence into sexual exploration. Featuring masterful main performances by Harry Melling as the clammed-up Arthur and the limitless Andrea Riseborough as Suze, this orgy draws you into its world and pins you with a sexy, leather-bound grip. Alongside jaw-dropping supporting turns from Cole Escola and Demi Moore, “Please Baby Please” boldly forces us to confront the rot of repression before allowing a queer, neon-lit release.
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