Lesbian Love Stories (Pride pt. IX)

Desert Hearts

The Kids Are All Right

Howdy partners, friends, and readers, I hope June is treating you well. I cannot believe we’re already six months into 2023, and I really cannot believe how blown away I was by last week’s queer double features. As a devoted hag and constant-consumer of queer art, I sometimes feel like I’ve seen it all. But what I love about Pride Month is all of the new films that I am introduced to, and all of the stories that enrich my consciousness of and appreciation for the LGBTQ+ community. As I mentioned last week, I’ll only be reviewing films directed by queer filmmakers this month, with no particular theme each week. But I did want to shine a particular light on lesbian filmmakers at some point, because rarely are queer, female stories presented by queer, female directors. Lesbianism is, more often than not, utilized in film for one sole purpose: to cater to the male gaze. As I stated in my Queer-Coded Classics post, queer characters on screen have traditionally played the role of sidekick, punching bag, comic relief, and (most commonly after the introduction of the Hays Code) villains. And if these queer characters were permitted to be anything more than these archetypes, they were often still shallow, undercooked representations that came from straight filmmakers only. One of the most egregious and common abuses of queerness by hetero filmmakers is that of the lesbian sex scene—where something as simple and innocent as a kiss would be scandalized and sensationalized to the highest degree. The most recent example that comes to mind is Wild Things, a trashy movie that I did admittedly enjoy, despite its insistence upon making two clear, hetero-coded characters make out. It is a sexy scene, one that occurs as Kevin Bacon watches, secretly from afar. This moment encapsulates everything you need to know about lesbian representation in film—it is not meant to be enjoyed by women who love women, it was made specifically to arouse the male-dominated audience of this film. There is no story beyond the lesbian kiss, what happens to these women next does not matter, the primary function of these scenes is to fulfill a very straight, male fantasy. While this salacious girl-on-girl content was a constant in film and tv for decades, there are, thankfully, some genuine and thoughtful queer love stories hidden along the way. The 1980s, a period of film history where homophobic slurs were just as prevalent as big hairdos, is just about the last place I expected to find a sweet, considerate, lesbian love story, but that’s where I found Donna Deitch’s seminal queer classic: Desert Hearts. Desert Hearts is loosely based off of the 1964 novel Desert of the Heart by Jane Rule, and tells the story of Vivian Bell (Helen Shaver), a 35 year old English professor who travels to Reno in 1959 to get a quickie divorce. Vivian is a bit uptight, conservative, and restrained (and is truly the only character that doesn’t have 80s hair), so she’s a bit shocked by the lifestyles she observes in Reno. Most shocking of all is Cay Rivers (Patricia Charbonneau), a young, free-spirited wild child who lives on the property where Vivian is temporarily staying. Cay is Vivian’s polar opposite: she’s carefree, open-minded, and secure in her sexuality. The town-folk gossip about her and the many women who are seen coming and going from her place, as one cowboy remarks: “How you get all that traffic with no equipment is beyond me”, but Cay now has her sights set on Vivian, and does everything she can to spend time with her. As the two women get to know each other better, ride horses together, gamble together, they forge a friendship based upon mutual respect and admiration. And as their friendship blossoms, so does a curiosity, and a tension. Cay learns to slow down a bit, Vivian begins to come out of her shell and into more masculine, less feminine clothes, and by bonding together they experience a wealth of self-discovery. Every inch of this film is coated with distinctly feminine touches—a certain gentleness and delicacy and patience and comfort can be felt as these two women become closer. While many queer love stories of the past are understandably stressful or painful, Desert Hearts never dwelled in this dismal territory for long, nor was its representation meant to be a cautionary tale. There are, of course, moments of anxiety and questioning, but the result was always shockingly peaceful. With its horse imagery, believably trepidatious sex scenes, and poignant moments surrounding a train station, it’s clear that films like Brokeback Mountain and Call Me By Your Name were profoundly influenced by Desert Hearts. But unlike these more modern adaptations, Desert Hearts had more room for joy, satisfaction, and most rare of all: a happy ending. The dialogue, as well as the pacing in this film, was excellent and captivating and felt incredibly natural as it played out. Positive depictions of queer romances are hard to come by, but ones created by queer people are even more of an oddity. Desert Hearts was just so authentically, divinely good, and each performance was effortlessly excellent. Its soundtrack of female country singers fit perfectly against the 1950s Nevada backdrop, and complimented its stunning cinematography so well. The sex scene was a bit more soft-core-porny than I expected, and I was not surprised to see titties (it was 1985 after all), but knowing that this film was in the trusted hands of a lesbian director makes the entirety of this movie feel even more special and impactful. Like many queer romances, there is a whole lot of longing that happens before any definitive action, but this only added to this story’s plausibility. Desert Hearts is essential viewing for any lesbian, ally, and appreciator of romance, and I promise that it will not disappoint—though it may cause you to stare out your window, burning with desire. Desert Hearts did such a lovely job of normalizing and de-sensationalizing lesbian relationships, and opened the door for so many films and stories that followed, like the next film that I watched: Lisa Cholodenko’s 2010 dramadey, The Kids Are All Right. This is a film that I wanted to see from the moment it was released because its cast—Annette Benning, Julianne Moore, Mia Wasikowska, Josh Hutcherson, Zosia Mamet, and Mark Ruffalo—was just too good to ignore. The Kids Are All Right is the first mainstream film to depict a lesbian couple raising kids, and follows the lives of the Allgood family through a strange and unpredictable time in their lives. Nic (Annette Benning) is an accomplished, controlled, workaholic obstetrician, and Jules (Julianne Moore) is a more hippy-dippy, creative, relaxed stay-at-home-mom. Their day-to-day lives are just as normal and mundane as any hetero couple’s, until their sixteen year old son, Laser (…) (Josh Hutcherson), expresses to his sister Joni (Mia Wasikowska), that he wants to meet his biological father / Nic and Jules’ sperm donor. When Joni and Laser go to meet their bohemian babe of a sperm daddy Paul (Mark Ruffalo), this family unit is never the same again. This synopsis makes the film sound far more dramatic than it is, but hopefully it builds just enough mystique for you to watch it. I won’t mention the bizarre, hard-to-believe stakes that were unnecessarily brought into this film, but I will say that while this movie was written and directed by a lesbian, that doesn’t mean that it was immune to straight-washing. 2010 heteronormative weirdness aside, I was so enamored with The Kids Are All Right, not just because it opened with a Vampire Weekend song and made me feel nostalgic for this time period, not just because the cast is perfect, but because its depiction of a queer couple felt simple and real and wonderful. I was positively obsessed with Nic and Jules’ relationship, the way they spoke to each other and their precocious children, the way that inquisitiveness and curiosity and challenging old ways of thinking made up so much of who they were. There are so many thoughtful, forward-thinking conversations that take place in this film, that it’s a bit jarring whenever certain, more close-minded aspects come into play. Again, I hesitate to go into detail about this, but while the spectrum of desire and human sexuality does come up quite a bit in this film, it still feels like a rather limiting scope. I wonder, if this film were made even today, how much it might improve its understanding of sexuality, or at least expand upon it, but I digress. While their actions and motivations were at times questionable, each character here felt like a real person, and each awkwardly open and honest conversation was refreshing to hear. As much as I complain about this film’s stakes, I really do appreciate The Kids Are All Right for its positive, humanizing portrayal of lesbian romance. Rarely are these depictions fair or considerate, but The Kids Are All Right remains to be one of the most iconic, memorable pieces of lesbian cinema. Plus, it features Annette Benning saying “I need parenting advice from you like I need a dick in my ass”, so who can really complain? Despite their many many many many differences, both of tonight’s films add to the ever-growing canon of lesbian love stories on screen, and for that they are incredibly vital. It is so important that these definitively queer perspectives are represented, and as we progress further into the future I can only hope that more of these stories will come from those who are primed and ready to tell them. Thanks for reading along, and thank you, lesbians, for always getting shit done and encouraging us straights to do better. Until next time, I’ll leave you with some of my favorite straight-girl-bi-curious anthems:

Katy Perry: I Kissed A Girl

Garfunkel and Oates: The College Try

Suki Waterhouse: Johanna

Hayley Kiyoko: For the Girls