Strangers on a Train (1951)
This one doesn't feature any overt homosexuality, though there are certainly some pretty strong undertones. Here, the latent eroticism that bubbles between the main characters plays, more than anything, as an interesting manifestation of Hitchcock's tendency to pick at uncomfortable topics as a means of creating tension. This is perhaps seen most clearly in the first meeting between Farley Granger and Robert Walker, a scene that bristles with flirtatious energy, where the famous premise is established. Beyond this, Strangers on a Train is full of classic Hitchcock stuff: virtuosic set pieces (the merry-go-round); subversive, macabre subtext; and of course masterfully crafted suspense.
Persona (1966)
This, what many would describe as Bergman's masterpiece, is also all about the latent eroticism, once again dealing with sexual ambiguity between the two central characters. As the film progresses, we observe an increasingly strange, intimate relationship develop between a nurse and the actress she is looking after, that peaks with a confessional description of a sexual encounter on a beach, one of the most remarkably carnal scenes I have ever seen. With an avant-garde opening sequence that leaves you reeling, typically striking, austere camerawork, and two exceptional performances from Bibi Andersson and Liv Ullmann, Persona is a film of intriguing potency.
The Bitter Tears of Petra Von Kant (1972)
Rainer Werner Fassbinder's heady, somewhat autobiographical, melodrama The Bitter Tears of Petra Von Kant is a frenzied chamber piece of destructive power games. All of the theatre plays out in one flat which is captured masterfully by cinematographer Michael Ballhaus. Moving loosely about the oppressive space, we saunter from one carefully composed shot to another, astutely detailing the dynamics between the collection of typically tortured characters.
A Special Day (1977)
Ettore Scola's small scale, humanist story of two lost souls in 30s Rome is a delightfully low-key film of unforeseen depths. Via a washed, sepia-ish colour palette, a soundscape dominated by ambient propaganda from the radio, and a pair of surprising performances from Sophia Loren and Marcello Mastroianni, the feeling of oppression felt by the central characters is conveyed excellently. As Gabriele says, "I'm not anti-fascist, fascism is anti-me"
Paris is Burning (1990)
Like most of the best documentaries, Jennie Livingston's Paris is Burning is devoid of any prejudice towards the events it captures - it simply shows us them, and lets them do the talking. Via candid interviews with everyone from the up-and-coming Venus Xtravaganza to the world-weary veteran Dorian Corey, we are guided through the nuances of the vibrant New York drag ball scene, tackling topics such as discrimination, economic deprivation, and of course how to throw shade.
Happy Together (1997)
Wong Kar Wai's rather inappropriately titled Happy Together is a tragic tale of two men who can live neither together nor apart. Shot by Christopher Doyle, the visuals in this one simultaneously achieve the dreamy, saturated romanticism of In the Mood for Love, whilst adding a grungy, almost Fight Club-esque aesthetic. Coupled with some hauntingly gorgeous Astor Piazzolla tango, we are provided with a beautiful backdrop for the passion of the two tortured lovers. Also, I love the dancing scene.
The Watermelon Woman (1996)
Often cited as the first film made by and about a black lesbian, Cheryl Dunye's slyly self-reflexive mockumentary The Watermelon Woman is a film that tackles big issues - systemic racism and homophobia, representation of black women in film, and fetishisation to name a few - but does so with a lightness of touch and warmhearted humour that results in a film as watchable as any. This isn't a film that gets up in your face with angry political commentary, instead Dunye plays little moments for laughs to highlight her point: a confrontation with a police officer who calls her a "crackhead" comes to mind particularly.
Tropical Malady (2004)
Half tender love story, half spellbinding, hallucinatory fable, Apichatpong Weerasethakul's Tropical Malady is a trippy, romantic enigma of a mood piece whose two equally beguiling sections play off one another brilliantly. It also features some what-the-fuck inducing jungle weirdness - more Ciro Guerra than Herzog or Coppola - that provides an ideal setting for the film of dark, labyrinthine depths and unexplained mysteries that plays out.
The Duke of Burgundy (2014)
By means of some hazy, orange tinted cinematography from Nic Knowland - all autumn leaves and dusky lamps - and a dream inducing, folky soundtrack from Cat's Eyes, Peter Strickland's The Duke of Burgundy is a film elevated to gorgeously cinematic heights. Indeed, this self aware, Sapphic S&M romance is something you don't see every day: an oddly touching exploration of universal truths of relationships (love the way we are shown subtle changes in the rituals of their relationship), wrapped up in a exquisitely composed homage to 70s erotica.
Carol (2015)
With its delicately manicured 50s aesthetic, lustrous 16mm cinematography, and two remarkably subtle performances from Cate Blanchett and Ronney Mara, Todd Haynes' Carol paints one of the most achingly beautiful portraits of forbidden love I have ever seen. This is a film obsessed with capturing all of the minutiae of a relationship: the longing glances; the stolen moments; the lingering touches; and the hushed whispers. I love it.
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