Tuesday, June 16, 2026

Tamer Ruggli | Cappuccino / 2010

poor boy

by Douglas Messerli

 

Tamer Ruggli (screenwriter and director) Cappuccino / 2010 [16 minutes]

 

In Swiss filmmaker Tamer Ruggli’s 2010 film Cappuccino we encounter yet again another sort of coming out and semi-homophobic film, not really one or the other since our young hero Jérémie (Benjamin Décosterd) has hardly had enough experience to either fully announce his homosexuality, nor does he encounter the intense bullying that we have encountered in so many other films.

     The problem with Ruggli’s Cappuccino is that it consists only in a slight event that may be of great importance to the shy teenager who dreams of having passionate sex with his beautiful classmate Damien (Anton Ciurlia), but is so truly insignificant on the larger scale that we have difficulty to totally emphasize with his now-standard tearful admission to his more than sympathetic and loving mother, Gina (Manuel Biedermann) that he likes boys, not girls.


     Damien is one of those “straight” boys, always more knowledgeable about sex than any gay kid, who is perfectly willing to take advantage of the boy he immediately perceives has a crush on him. He quickly agrees to meet up with Jérémie in order to get an easy blowjob. What can a gay boy do but oblige, even if it isn’t the deep romantic encounter or even the remarkable fuck he might have wished for?

     He’s just happy to have been offered up the chance to suck up the semen which he declares tastes somewhat like the sweet drink his mother offers him every morning, cappuccino (not what the English translation declares to be “coffee”). But when he goes to kiss the self-satisfied recipient of his homosexual gesture, he is immediately pushed away and called, indirectly in this case, a “fag”: “I’m not a fag!”

     Compared to a gang of boys or even one straight homophobe threatening to beat you every day, the expletive seems negligible, something he even might have expected. But for Jérémie, it dashes nearly all his young dreams and hopes, leading him to such a flood of tears that when his mother merrily bounces home in her sequined gown, she still discerns his wet cheeks.


     She offers him one of her cigarettes and hugs him to her inquiring about how his date with a new girlfriend has ended in such a fuss, while he, letting loose with a new flurry of tears, admits the “she” was actually a “he,” and…well, in this case he doesn’t even have to explain his dilemma as she quickly swallows him up in her arms.

       All we can say is, “O the travails that still await this poor mamma’s boy.”

     Of course, we feel for him. But we might have suggested he watch a few other coming out films before making his first date. Hopefully, that’s what young boys can now share that in my generation was impossible.

      I couldn’t even imagine that a straight boy might have enjoyed, now and then, a good gay suck. Or that such “gay boys” often pretended they were straight, even to themselves. And certainly neither my mother or father would have held me in their arms while I cried out after having been described I was a fag. There was nothing to do but take the beatings, run away from bullies, and pretend that everything was “normal,” when you knew inside everything was all fucked up.

 

Los Angeles, June 16, 2026

Reprinted from My Queer Cinema blog (June 2026).

 

Monday, June 15, 2026

Robert McKimson | Daffy's Inn Trouble / 1961

competing establishments

by Douglas Messerli

 

David Detiege (story), Warren Batchelder, Ted Bonnicksen, and George Grandpré (animators), Robert McKimson (director) Daffy's Inn Trouble / 1961 [6 minutes]

 

Daffy’s definitely in trouble in this 1961 film, but so too is Porky Pig, one of his last films (his final film was also with Daffy in the 1965 release, “Corn on the Cop”) in which inexplicably the animators have turned his usually recognizable face into a couple of abstract squiggles that even the voice of Mel Blanc can’t quite save. Moreover, this is a Daffy Duck cartoon which Porky is only an ancillary figure.


     Daffy fed up with having to use his brilliance merely to sweep up Porky’s floors at the Bristle Inn, is finally fed up when Porky presents him with a surprise present—merely another new broom.

Determined to go into competition with his former boss, Daffy quickly constructs his own Duck Inn Tavern just across from the Pig’s hotel.

    Despite his touted offerings of free lunch, Plaid stamps, Free TV, and assurances that “Western [is] spoken here,” Daffy’s new establishment just doesn’t draw in the customers the way Porky’s

place does. Even his own schilling to bring in the crowds. What it does attract is a robber who demands Daffy’s money or his life. The robber takes away Daffy’s empty till.

     Still crowds pour into Porky’s place, and Daffy is determined to find out what “he’s got that I don’t haven’t got?”



    What he discovers is a full line of female barroom dancers offering up what might be described as a French Can-Can.


     Daffy gets into his drag costume and attempts to lure the men to his place, but the record gets stuck and the admirers turn in “sore-losers” as they plaster him with tomatoes and other vegetables.

    Daffy next attempts to lure Porky into becoming a partner, but the Pig argues that he has all the business he needs, and refuses the agreement.

    The only choice now that Daffy has to try what he always does, to get even. He spins around his revolver and shoots himself in the face. The next step is to levitate a gigantic boulder over-looking both the establishments in order to crash the Bristle Inn into pieces. The large rock bounces, of course, and crashes into Daffy’s Duck Inn, totally levelling it. For an instant, Daffy turns into a total jack-ass.


    Again dressing up in drag, this time in the dress of a traditional pioneer woman, Daffy straps explosives to himself, sits down at the table in the Bristle Inn and orders “service,” ordering up lasagna, a glass of paté de foie gras, and “a half of dozen medium rare truffles.” Porky suggests that her order will take a little time, giving Mlle. Daffy the opportunity to plant the explosives and run out to hide behind a rock.


   Yet even there, Porky reappears to remind her that she hadn’t ordered anything to drink. Suddenly the bomb goes off resulting in an oil gusher, she suggesting “How’s about a drink of oil, on the rocks, in a tall glass?”

      Now wealthy, Porky has opened a swank Hotel where, once again, Daffy works. Porky awards him a new office, one filled with mops and brooms.

      So quotes Daffy: “You know, I bet if he put his mind to it, he could be positively obnoxious.”

 

Los Angeles, June 15, 2026

Reprinted from My Queer Cinema blog (June 2026).

 

Alice Rohrwacher | Felice Lozarro (Happy as Lozarro) / 2018

the happy saint

by Douglas Messerli

 

Alice Rohrwacher (screenwriter and director) Felice Lozarro (Happy as Lozarro) / 2018

 

Without creating a precise allegory or even pushing her film into complete fantasy, Italian filmmaker Alice Rohrwacher has created a significant work in her Felice Lozarro—meaninglessly translated into English as Happy as Lozarro, when it might have been far more felicitous to simply title it “Happy” or “Lucky” Lozarro—that reads like a mix of fable and a metaphoric tale of a young Christ-like being. Lozarro, the Italian medieval name for Lazarus, the believer who Christ restored to life four days after the man’s death, and for whom Jesus wept. In this film he is presented as a beautiful, young, cherubic teenager (stunningly performed by Adriano Tardiolo) as a true “holy fool,” who lives in the small central Italian village of Inviolata, a place that seems a bit like Brigadoon, a town that has mostly escaped contemporary life.


     Unlike the Scottish village, whose citizens joyously are brought back to life for one day in each century, the Inviolataese work hard every day for the bitter Marchesa Alfonsina De Luna (Nicoletta Braschi), the self-described cigarette queen, who also raises other vegetables which help to make her rich, while her citizenry are kept ignorant and in debt. Each month her overweight overseer (Natalino Balasso) arrives to declare each of them guilty of spending far more than the amount of pay for their labors owed to them, creating an indentured world that might almost match the Jim Crow US South.

     Nonetheless, Inviolata’s workers make the best of it, while cursing, under their breaths, about the ruthless, yet patriarchal Marchesa, who knows that even if they hate her, they need a system in which they can work in order to survive. And despite their living conditions, wherein, in some small homes there are 18 inhabitants, they seem to make the best of it, celebrating love, enthusiastically sharing the little quantities of wine, cigarettes, and food they have, even as they gripe.


     At the very lowest level of this horrible hierarchy is Lozarro, who is never offered anything to eat at these celebratory occasions—and, in fact, consumes no food throughout the film. He is the go-for of their world, the one they order about to fetch up the tobacco leaves they pick from the fields, to lift their crates, to carry off the crippled grandmother who appears to be his only relative. At one point, Lozarro runs off to fix coffee for the field workers only to discover, upon his return, that they have all wandered off.

   Strangely, none of this abuse disturbs the happy Lozarro in the least. He works endlessly and willingly, always with a smile pasted to his face. And he is also one of the few villagers invited into the Marchesa’s house—for she too makes use of his absolute servility—and it is there he meets her most unhappy son, Tancredi (Luca Chikovani), who has been brought home after, apparently, several debauched years, and is now locked away in the virginal world of Inviolata.

      The frail, young blond Tancredi, who appears to be suffering from consumption, or, perhaps, is just suffering lung cancer from smoking too many of his mother’s cigarettes (as he explains to the innocent Lozarro, “Every time I cough, I need to smoke a cigarette.”) slyly befriends Lozarro and seduces him into helping to pretend that he has been kidnapped in order to get the money to escape her clutches.


    If this is no sexual seduction, it might as well be for the innocent one, who is convinced, when Tancredi tells him the truth—that the Marchessa originally was just another woman from the village with whom his father had sex and that, for all he knows, Tancredi, who has never known his parents, might as well be his half-brother—is reconfirmed in the innocent’s mind when Trancredi, unable to prick his own finger in order to seal his signature in blood, uses Lozarro’s blood. In the mind of this child-like believer Lozarro this truly does make them “blood-brothers.”

      Lozarro takes his new and perhaps only “friend” away to his version of the Wuthering Heights’ Peniston Crag, a high mountain crevice where he has secretly made his own place of escape. Bringing his new friend there is as close to a sexual rendezvous that Lozarro will ever encounter, and in his attempt to feed his new friend, who has now moved into a deep ditch (a symbolic burial grounds), after Lozarro has fallen into a “fever”—surely not just a sudden illness, but a psychological reaction to his new-found friendship—results in this saint’s fall from a high cliff.

      With both boys having now gone missing a maid calls the police, who discover a village that in its horrific conditions that stands against all Italian modern codes of living, clear out the town, arresting, presumably the Marchessa who has created these insufferable conditions.

      Most of the critics writing about this film, who I read, suggest that there is now an incredibly sudden shift in the film, concerning which, as A.O. Scott, for example, writes:

 

“Midway through, just as we’ve accepted the semi-fantastical parameters of Lazzaro’s world — his half-secret friendship with the Marchesa’s son, Tancredi (Luca Chikovani); his chaste infatuation with a young woman named Antonia (Agnese Graziani) — our perspective changes. We suddenly see the landscape from above and hear an ancient folk tale in a woman’s voice, and the film takes a double swerve, into harsher realism and more explicit magic.”

 

     But, in truth, Rohrwacher takes us quite gently into to this new world by suggesting that the police have ousted most of the previous Inviolata tenants simply in order to save them, to allow them entry into the modern world. Only Lozarro—who like Lazarus and a bit like Rip Van Winkle, wakes up again into life, after having been sniffed out and rejected by a wolf (a major metaphoric figure in this film) who refuses to eat him, declaring that he has sniffed out a totally “honest man”—returns to the village to find thieves removing whatever they might find of value in the Marchesa’s abandoned house. If he frightens them, he still innocently leads them to her drawer of “cutleries,” and even begs them for a ride into the urban future. When they reject him, he walks into a world he might never have imagined. And it is a wonderment to behold, as he discovers, still dressed in his light sweater and loosely knit pants, huge power-lines and gigantic towers of communication.

      The world he discovers in Milan and other northern cities is made up of the same people of his small village, now, given their newly established hierarchical roles, forced to steal and sell their gains in the underground. Only there is now a very big difference: they have all aged terribly, almost forgetting their past, while the happy Lozarro has remained ever young. Not only do they, at first, not recognize him, they reject him—until Antonia, the woman who was serenaded in the very first scenes of this film (now played by Alba Rohrwacher, the director’s sister) recognizes him, and forces the others to allow him into their own current metallic hovel.


      Here, Lozarro, despite the same conditions, essentially, in which he has suffered in the past, is still in love with life, eagerly willing to help out with everything. But his sad re-encounter with Tancredi, where we perceive the young blond now as an old, stringy-haired barfly, says everything. The wolves have won, and the old world he knew is about to die.

       Throughout the film, Lozarro is seen as going into a kind of trance during lonely removals from the world in which he exists during which he seems, despite everyone else’s perception of his intelligence, to be considering things, to be evaluating a world in deep concentration.

        Near the end of the film, when his fellow travelers suddenly hear a heavenly music that has left the local cathedral simply to follow them, the innocent turns away again in deep thought. They joke about returning to Inviolata to reclaim what is left to them as squatters. But we know these now somewhat agèd street-folk will never be able to reclaim their virgin state. And, so too, must Lozarro know that the past cannot be reclaimed.

        Yet he attempts just that, awkwardly trying to enter a bank, setting off their alarms as he approaches through the wrong door. Behaving, as he does always, rather oddly, the customers suddenly determine that he is armed, and in terror, move away from him. When he perceives their own odd behavior, he moves toward them, trying to explain to himself why they are so fearful; all he wants, as he pleas the tellers, is that everything left behind be returned the Tancredi—not, evidently, even a customer of that particular bank.

      When the terrified customers perceive the intruder’s innocence, and that the gun they thought he was carrying is simply a slingshot, a gift of Tancredi, they attack him, and one by one, beat him to the ground. The wolf reappears, evidently now ready for his feast. By the time the police arrive, the “holy innocent” is bleeding and appears to have died.

       The movie leaves us with the notion that, if he is to survive and come to life again, it can be only in our belief, in our imagination. I wept for his death, as I would for Christ. Happiness is such a rare thing.

 

Los Angeles, December 3, 2018

Reprinted from World Cinema Review (December 2018).

Adetokumboh M'Cormack | Irish Goodbye / 2018

like-minded friends

by Douglas Messerli

 

Matt Feit and Adetokumboh M'Cormack (screenplay), Adetokumboh M'Cormack (director) Irish Goodbye / 2018 [18 minutes]

 

The US film Irish Goodbye begins neither in the US or Ireland, but in Syria, where best friends and perhaps lovers Nizar (Abubakr) and Amir (Youness Ouder) have just pretended to go on a long race only to end up, on Amir’s request, at a meeting of “like- minded friends.”


     It quickly shifts to Los Angeles where Nizar is now working as an Uber driver, picking up a very drunken Eric (Jack Lowe) who admits that he has just successfully achieved an Irish goodbye, when you leave without saying goodbye to anybody.

      Asked if Nizar has ever done such a thing as leaving all your friends without saying goodbye, Nizar gently replies, “I don’t have friends, I just have family,” to which Eric responds, “Well fuck me, you’re no Irishman!” A moment later, Eric is leaning out the window screaming, Nizar attempting to coax him back into the car proper. It’s clear that in the few hours Eric has left in the city before his flight home, he’s ready and willing to party. “Life is not a dress rehearsal!”


      They end up at a concert venture for Cole, a singer evidently Nizar is also fond of. Eric invites him to join him for the concert, but Nizar insists he has to work, besides “I’m not….”

     Eric interrupts, “What gay, homosexual, queer? None of us are.” Before he even knows what’s happening, Nizar has joined Eric at the concert, for after drinks, and a meal, loudly proclaiming about his sexual experiences in a restaurant, at which point Nizar begs him not to be so loud.

      “Oy! Life is loud, Nizar. It’s supposed to get under other people’s skin, not swim around it like some lost sperm in the wild.”

      We quickly discover that the restaurant they’re in is one chosen by Nizar, a spot run, as he points out by Muslims, who Eric proclaims seem to be a “tightly wound” folk.

     “These ‘tightly wound’ people you’re judging escaped from a place I hope you never have to see. They saw friends and family die enduring similar trials.” He quickly tries to explain what’s been happening in Syria since 2011.

       Recognizing that he’s “being a dick,” Eric suggests that after they finish their “fat tush” (fattoush) and that they get out of the place. As they sit on a spot overlooking the city (how they reached it so quickly is inexplicable) Nizar admits that he thinks Eric is quite amazing, but that “Not all of us can live as untethered as you are. Some of us have lives and responsibilities, families. And we can’t just drop everything to live in the single moment the way you do.”

       “Yep, but what are you living for?”


      Before the night is out Eric has invited him into his hotel bedroom, into a long kiss, and into his bed.

     Eric asks after if he’s ever had feelings before for a man, and Nizar recounts what happened the night after he was invited to that gathering of “friends and independent thinkers” with which this short film begins. There was a raid where they grabbed everyone and dragged them. Having captured his friend Amir, they forced him, on the threat of death, to hit him with a heavy piece of concrete. Word spread, and the family was no longer safe. “And I made to here, California, to live with my aunty and my uncle. It’s the typical story of the American dream. Amir always wanted us to be free.”

       Before sunrise, Nizar’s phone rings, and when he reaches for it on the floor he also discovers Eric’s billfold, inside of which is a picture of him with his wife and daughter, leading Nizar to also take an Irish goodbye.

      A cellphone message from Eric admits he should have been more upfront about his life, but also he rhapsodizes about his special night with Nizar, hoping that he finds what he wants from life.

      A written paragraph reminds us after the story has ended, that since 2011 465,000 Syrians have been killed in the fighting between the various forces attempting to occupy it, with over one million injured, and 12 million people displaced.

 

Los Angeles, September 29, 2023

Reprinted from World Cinema Review (September 2023). 

 

Hirokazu Kore-eda | 怪物 (Kaibutsu) Monster / 2023

the train to paradise

by Douglas Messerli

 

Yuji Sakamoto (screenplay), Hirokazu Kore-eda (director) 怪物 (Kaibutsu) Monster / 2023

 

Somewhat like Akira Kurosawa’s 1950 film Rashomon, Hirokazu Kore-eda and Yuji Sakamoto’s 2023 masterwork Monster presents three versions of the same tale, but it this case it is closer to a peeling away of an onion, wherein as each layer is removed we come closer to what we might describe as reality, yet discover that the reality is even more mysterious and wondrous than the truth we first thought we comprehended.

     At the center of this confusing world are two fifth-graders Minato (Sōya Kurokawa) and Yori (Hinata Hiiragi). Inexplicably, the two have begun feeling joy and comfort in each other’s presence which, as we later discover, might almost be described as a kind of romantic love that deeply troubles Minato, a boy whose father has died and is attempting to grow up, as his mother Saori Mugino (Sakura Andō) has taught him, to be worthy of the memory of her husband.


    Early in the film we observe a sign of the difficulties to come when a high-rise building near the Mugino home suddenly is discovered to be blazing in fire. Mother and son watch the blaze in wonderment from their balcony, which neighborhood gossips later explain held a sex bar several stories up and where, they claim, the boy’s teacher Mr. Hori (Eita Nagayama) was a regular visitor.

    As a single mother, Saori works hard in a local shop, arriving home late some nights with groceries as she attempts to live life as both mother and financial support, a role that many women like her sometimes find difficult to balance. But basically, she has what appears to be a good rapport with her son. That is until she begins to observe strange signs. One night she returns home to find several strands of her son’s hair chopped off and left in the sink. Why is he cutting away his own beautiful head of hair?

    At another point she finds that he has returned home with only one of his shoes. Another evening, her son does not return home at all. She desperately goes on a search for him, finding his bicycle parked by the side of the road. She explores the path to find an abandoned train tunnel where she finally discovers her son, embracing him and bringing him home, but troubled about the evidence she appears to accumulate, particularly after questioning the fairly incoherent boy, regarding his former favorite teacher Mr. Hori, who appears to be physically and mentally abusing him, calling him a “monster” and other terms that do not seem at all appropriate.

    Visiting the school, she attempts to have a full conversation with the female principal (Yūko Tanaka), who seems cold and removed as Saori recounts what she has perceived. Indeed, after she has made her accusations apparent, she is met up with others on the faculty, who excuse the principal’s absence by simply suggesting she has other obligations.


     In the second meeting with faculty, Hori makes a hasty and seemingly enforced confession of sorts, but still with no explanation of the facts and without at all directly responding to Saori’s own fears and questions.

     Confronting Hori alone, he suggests that Minato has actually be bullying the fellow, effeminate student, Yori, having for no seeming reason tossed the boy’s books and bookbag to the floor and later, locked him in a bathroom stall. Neither Saori or Hori connect this with a homophobic fellow student who, at one point, the mother even challenges.

     Confused by this new information, Saori visits Yori’s home, only to find the boy alone without any adult in this house. The boy invites her in, serves her a drink, and expresses his caring and worry for her son, far from suggesting any sense of fear or distress. He even sits down to write her son a letter of caring, while, she notices, he reverses several of the Japanese kanji, which she quietly corrects. She may find the young boy somewhat strange, but he evinces no feelings that suggest her son has been abusing him.

   Meanwhile, so that the school can save face, Mr. Hori is fired. He has discovered, as we later discover, a paper by Yori in which the kanji are reversed in order spell out the name of Minato, and rushes back to the school, pushing his way past his fellow faculty members who attempt to restrain him in order to tell Minato that he now realizes that he has been wrong in his assessment of the boy’s behavior, realizing in fact that the two are close friends. But Minato terrified of yet further punishment rushes up the stairs and back down again, finally falling down the staircase.


    Having lost his job and his girlfriend, Hirona (Mitsuki Takahata), Hori now is ready to jump off the elementary school roof in despair, but a strange noise of horns below stops him, and he ceases his suicidal attempts. He attempts again to visit Minato at his house in order to explain to him that he now knows of his innocence, but as a tropical monsoon begins to hit the city, Saori finds her son missing.

     We now witness an abbreviated summary of the events through Hori’s point of view. The same high-rise fire we observed with Minato and his mother from the balcony, is now being observed by Hori and his girlfriend. The gossips were entirely mistaken about the gentle Hori who is not the kind of man to visit the sex club the building may have held. In this version of reality he enters a classroom to discover Minato throwing other students’ books and bags around the room, never bothering to perceive that it is both a reaction to the homophobia shown to his friend Yori and his own attempt to momentarily dissociate himself from Yori when he meets up with the classroom bully’s actions against his effeminate friend.

     Similarly, it is the bully who has locked Yori in the bathroom stall, yet when Hori goes to check out the rumpus, he finds Minato leaving the room, and even returning to watch him as he helps Yori escape the stall locked at the top. What else can he presume but that Minato is bullying Yori?

     When Hori visits Yori’s hope, unlike Saori’s visit he meets up with Yori’s father who, it becomes immediately apparent, is an abusive alcoholic, disgusted by his son’s girlish ways and apparently beating him to cure his effeminate ways.

      To the faculty, it is Saori who is the “monster, an overprotective woman who requires the principal to force Hori to resign to protect her institution. She, meanwhile, has just recently seen her grandson hit by a car her husband was driving; even worse, we later realize, she herself had been driving the car, hence her inability to properly deal with the situation at hand. A public hearing is demanded, Hori let go, and later hounded by the press who declare him a monster for his seeming abuse of the boy. His girlfriend simply packs up her suitcase and never returns.

     In this version, it appears that Hori is the tortured one, made as the scapegoat by his fellow faculty members and hounded by an uncaring press and a mother who simply doesn’t comprehend the details that she begins to perceive.

     It is at this point, finally, that Hori rediscovers Yori’s school paper and realizes that the boys are not at odds with one another, but in love. After attempting to explain his mistake to Minato at the school, he rushes to his home, trying to call him out, only to discover he is missing. Together he and Saori, despite the storm, attempt to visit the old railroad station, but are told by police, now barricading the location that with the rains the area is at any moment about to be enveloped in a landslide. They rush to the site only to discover an old railroad car, now covered over almost entirely with mud, observing only Minato’s book bag.



     Within the car are the two boys, whom, in the third peeling of the onion skin, we discover have created and decorated a private world within the old train, escaping there together after Minato has befriended Yori upon observing that other boys taunt him again and again for his behavior and his almost endless sense of joy in his simple difference from all the others. We now discover that Minato slices off parts of his hair only after Yori has delightfully played with it, the doubts of his sexuality already creeping into Minato’s own mind as he finds Yori so appealing. Yet the young fifth-grader remains torn in his increasing love for Yori, fearing that he is not living up to the visions his mother has painted of his father.

    Nonetheless, the boys grow even closer, and one night when Minato visits his friend, he encounters Yori’s father, who tells him that Yori has been “cured” (of what he doesn’t say, but we know he means of his “sissified" ways), and orders Minato to leave him alone. As the truth becomes more and more apparent, anyone with even a shred of empathy can now hardly hold in the tears for how much these children have been forced to suffer. When Yori appears to tell his friend that what is father has said is not so, we know there will now be further punishments for the child.


    Back at school, in his escape from Hori on the staircase, Minato himself encounters the principal, as discovers himself in a small room full of brass instruments. This basically unsympathetic tyrant now explains to the young boy how she formerly conducted a brass band, and encourages him to try playing a trombone. He blows into the mouthpiece with no result, but she takes up the French horn and together they blow out the brass bellows that Hori, about to jump off the rooftop, hears, saving his life. This formerly failed leader is now also given a second chance in Kore-eda’s totally forgiving story, as she advises Minato to choose happiness instead of fear.

     Called out of the house during the storm, Minato rushes to Yori’s house only to find him fully clothed in his own bathtub, covered with bruises inflicted upon him by his furious father. And together they hurry off to their hideaway where they wait out what they realize may be their death, and a possibility to be “reborn” into a world of normality where they were no longer perceived as “pig-brained monsters.”

     As the rain ceases, Minato is able to push open one of the car windows from which they escape. Even they are not sure whether they are still alive or have been “reborn,” particularly when they rush off along a now green pathway where before they had encountered a gate closing off their entry. But now that gate is missing, the path open for their further adventure.

     Several gay critics complained that Kore-eda had simply once more killed off the two gay heroes. But I didn’t at all interpret it that way. Nor, apparently, did the director who argued in a dialogue with Mizuki Kodama in “Film Monster: Queer Criticism and Director Hirokazu Kore-ed’s Response; A Three and-a-half-hour Dialogue” that “he intended the ending to be one in which Minato and Yori choose life, and directed it as a celebration of their being alive, while admitting that he now anticipated that about 20% of the audience would interpret it as depicting an afterlife.

   What we can be certain of is that most of the adults in this film sadly suffered for this misapprehensions about children and their lives and loves. Caring as they all were, they could not imagine the true complexity of these two boy's relationship and their reliance on one another for survival.

     As the unnamed writer of the blog Medium (going under the moniker “Justsomethingg”) reminds us, the story begins with fire and ends with a rainstorm, both signifiers of death and renewal. These boys have found a way to transform the old, failed world around them into a new experience for themselves that offers gay boys and the entire LGBTQ+ community new hope.

    This work is greatly enhanced, finally, by the last score of the great musician and composer Ryuichi Sakamoto, who died two months before this film was released.

    I have always been an admirer of Kore-eda’s transformative works, but this is now my favorite of his oeuvre to date.

 

Los Angeles, June 15, 2026

Reprinted from My Queer Cinema blog (June 2026).

    

 

 

 

Index of Titles (director, title, date) R-Z

Angelo Raaijmakers I, Adonis / 2021 Peeter Rabane Firebird / 2021   Tyler Rabinowitz Catalina / 2022 Tyler Rabinowitz See You Soon / 20...