On the 2010s Gay Indie Movie

The other day I watched what some would probably say was a bad movie. Or, at least, not exceptionally made. The acting was just south of naturalistic, which is a tough place to land for a mockumentary. But the feeling of it, the theming, the grittiness of the production value…this all made me miss gay 2010s indie movies in a Big Way. Let’s talk about it.

The 2010s indie movie—particularly the 2010s gay indie movie—is something near and dear to my heart. I am lucky to have come of age when I had these options and not just the array of depressing (about abuse and AIDS primarily) or plot-devoid (campy sexual romps that got the 11pm slot on Logo).

Much of the aesthetic that is emblematic of the queer indie 2010s film is not only a rejection of the polarizing portrayals of queerness in film that came before it, but also a clear “we can do it too” approach to the stylings of mumblecore and early A24 films.

More often than not these movies aren’t really about much of anything. This is obviously a big departure from social issue movies (Rent and Philadelphia, to name perhaps two of the biggest mainstream movies centered on gay themes in the 20th century). Instead of trying to educate its audience, this kind of film knew it could take shortcuts and presume certain shared knowledge (and experience) amongst its viewers.

From what I’ve seen, much of this canon portrays some degree of sexual awakening in some form of another. Now I don’t mean to say these are coming out movies, because many are not. Many of these movies bypass that conversation altogether. Perhaps in the eyes of these films realization and discovery are much more important and interesting than the telling.

These films also feature actors who don’t have Wikipedia pages or who have very short ones. Their directors are best known for the movie you’re looking up online. The score is either composed by someone whose work is wholly unfamiliar to you or consists of Allie X and Rostam and other indie queer musicians who are very happy to lend the rights to their music to—or occasionally write new stuff for—these projects.

This kind of movie is small in many ways. Small budget. Small in plot. Small cast. Sparse editing. This kind of movie can very easily be cast off as boring or poorly made. The latter isn’t always true, but certainly can be. The former perhaps depends on your perspective.

Quiet movies wherein very little but some sort of awakening—a monumental night, an unforgettable touch, an inexplicable bond—are far from boring to me. These movies put on screen what I struggle to say with my words. And yet some of them fall short for me and some fall short for upwards of 70-80% of audiences and critics.

But even when these movies fail—and trust me, I’ve seen plenty that have failed—they offer something unique. They still have this sensibility of being so guerrilla made. They still have a message with little interesting in overexplaining it to your face.

This aesthetic of film has more or less fallen out of fashion in recent years. Queer movies are getting better and they’re also spreading out into all kinds of genres. There are mainstream high school comedies that are queer (Bottoms), there are queer horror flicks, and there are even queer summer movies (Fire Island and Bros).

Obviously there have always been gay movies that have existed in these genres. But now that they are much more mainstream, the gay indies are growing smaller. And that surely also has to do with overall changes in the industry.

But as I Google “Gay movies” or search them on my fire stick on every steaming platform I have, I find it harder and harder to encounter something new that does what the gay indie movies of the 2010s did.

For starters, making “prettier” and glossier movies even on a smaller budget has gotten so much easier in recent years. The democratization of quality is an overall good. I swear by this…and yet. I miss when things were a little rougher around the ages.

Quiet movies that aren’t about much of anything also aren’t getting made as much these days. Perhaps our collective attention span and media literacy have gotten too fried to be able to handle a movie that doesn’t feed us what we’re supposed to take away from it on a silver platter.

It’s very challenging, I know, to say that I want movies to be a bit more imperfect and a bit more raw and a bit more ugly. And maybe it is just nostalgia. That’s what I few up on after all. But in all honesty, I think the imperfections found in that era of movie have much more to say about the queer experience than mainstream pandering comedies or overly educational social issue movies.

So…Getting Go wasn’t perfect. That’s the movie I alluded to earlier. It’s a mockumentary about a soon-to-be Columbia grad who drunkenly emails his crush—a go-go dancer and webcam performer—saying he wants to make a documentary with him as his muse. He follows through in some regards, documenting the brief three week stint he has together with his crush, who becomes his lover and his muse.

It wasn’t super well acted. The plot was, at times, shaky. Some of the editing was wonky. But Jesus Christ did it have a lot to say about being 22 and being inexperienced and having desires that you never thought you’d act on and the maturity gap in queer relationships and bodied and and and…and yeah, some of it was really hot.

I wouldn’t watch Getting Go again and I’m not even sure I’d recommend it with my full chest. But I’m not sorry I watched it. I’m rarely sorry I’ve watched a movie of its ilk. To me, to have tried to do something different and to have had something to say is much more interesting than teaching me a lesson or hitting me over the head with imagery and glitzy music and bisexual lighting.

Bring back imperfection and quietness and stillness and a tasteful, measured amount of camp, and bring back feeling. We do not need more telling.