The history of the LGBTQ+ community is intertwined with the history of people. Contrary to some people’s beliefs, queer people have always been everywhere, whether they chose to be seen or not. Queer history is history, and it will be that way until the end of days.
Since its inception, film has played a pivotal role in shaping human history. As an artistic medium, it not only entertains countless individuals but also profoundly impacts cultural and social landscapes. Movies capture and convey diverse human experiences. They offer a unique opportunity to show new perspectives, fostering understanding and empathy.
Film, like any art, has been an essential medium for the queer community to share their stories and connect people from different backgrounds. Yet, in the early days of cinema, it wasn’t easy for LGBTQ+ people to be seen or represented fairly. Often, films outrightly ignored or portrayed queer people negatively, casting a heavy shadow over the community.
But, despite the movie industry being predominantly led by straight, white men, many LGBTQ+ individuals managed to find their place in it since the beginning, both in front of the camera and behind the scenes.
So, let’s explore how LGBTQ+ representation in early films unfolded, from the silent movie era to the Golden Age of Hollywood. Though it’s by no means an exhaustive list, we’ll look at some important moments for queer people in film and celebrate the achievements of the LGBTQ+ community within the industry.
The silent era lasted from the late 1800s to the early 1930s and laid the foundation for storytelling through moving images. In many ways, the silent era was like the wild west of filmmaking. There were few rules and lots of winging it.
Despite most silent films being made with an essentially straight, white audience in mind, they managed to address a wealth of topics, including themes related to queerness. Though these groundbreaking portrayals were scarce and often subtle, they provided a glimpse into the lives of LGBTQ+ individuals and their struggles for acceptance.
One of the earliest examples of queer representation in film is actually quite overt. Different from the Others is a German film co-written by the notable sexologist Magnus Hirschfeld. It screened in the United States and tells the story of a homosexual violinist who becomes a victim of blackmail and societal prejudice.
The audience did not seem to get the message.
From the outset, the film was banned in America and caused hysteria in Germany. Many religious and anti-Semitic groups said it actively promoted the “homosexual agenda.” Yawn.
Now hailed as the first pro-gay film in history, Different from the Others challenged the status quo and shed light on the unjust persecution of LGBTQ+ individuals under Paragraph 175 of the German Penal Code. The people who made the film were nothing short of courageous and heroic.
Unsurprisingly, censorship laws were enacted following the film’s release. Also, unsurprisingly, Nazis burned the film when they came to power. Many of the heroes who were part of the film’s making – those of the Jewish and/or LGBTQ+ communities – tragically perished in concentration camps.
The film remains a milestone in LGBTQ+ cinema, reflecting an early and fearless attempt to address queer issues and promote tolerance and understanding. Miraculously, after WWII, only one copy remained and has survived to this day.
During the silent era, Hollywood was becoming the movie powerhouse it would later remain. There, we find queer representation in the work and life of Alla Nazimova, one of the most popular stars of her time.
Alla Nazimova was a pioneering actress, screenwriter, film director, and producer born in Yalta, Crimea. After an early career in Russian theater, she immigrated to the United States, where she quickly gained recognition on Broadway for her passionate performances and charismatic presence. Her success led her to Hollywood, where she became a prominent silent film star during the 1910s and 1920s. Throughout her career, Nazimova sought to push creative boundaries, often engaging in controversial and daring projects that would leave a lasting impact on queer history.
Driven by her ambition and immense talent, Nazimova thrived both in front of and behind the camera. Her 1923 film adaptation of Oscar Wilde’s Salomé, which she financed, directed, and starred in, is recognized as a vital work in queer cinema. The film’s distinct visual style, marked by its androgynous characters and evocative use of symbolism, set it apart from other films of the era. It has the reputation of being one of the first art films ever made – if not the first.
While Salomé was initially a failure, its avant-garde approach has since been celebrated for its bold expression of queerness and gender nonconformity. Today, it is a highly respected piece of LGBTQ+ film history.
Though she was married (twice?), Alla Nazimova lived openly as a lesbian, having many affairs with women. Her home, dubbed the “Garden of Allah,” became a haven for queer artists and intellectuals, providing a nurturing space for creativity and expression outside the constraints of conventional society. Nazimova is also credited with creating the term “sewing circle” to represent a close-knit group of lesbian and bisexual actresses who secretly met to provide each other support and camaraderie.
Her unwavering commitment to her craft and her contributions to queer culture make Alla Nazimova a highly influential figure in the history of LGBTQ+ film representation.
A 1924 German silent film, Michael, directed by the renowned Carl Theodor Dreyer, holds an important place in the history of queer cinema. Based on Herman Bang’s novel, “Mikaël,” the film explores the intricate emotional bond between an accomplished painter and his young male muse. It delves into the emotional and psychological bond between them, offering a subtle but poignant portrayal of unrequited love and longing.
Michael was one of the earliest big-budget films to touch upon queer themes when the subject matter was rarely depicted on screen. Dreyer’s artful and delicate approach to the narrative was groundbreaking and empathetic. Although it was never stated explicitly, the homosexual undertones were not missed by reviewers at the time, who were most unhappy about it. The movie was generally dismissed until Dreyer became more famous.
The film influenced many later directors, including Hitchcock. But, its effect on LGBTQ+ cinema cannot be understated. Michael demonstrates the possibility of exploring queer themes in film with depth and nuance, no doubt opening the door for more diverse and authentic representations in the years to come.
Ramon Novarro, a distinguished silent film star of the 1920s, played a significant role in the early days of queer film history. A heartthrob of the era, Novarro enchanted audiences with his dashing looks and magnetic screen presence, most notably in his iconic role as the titular character in the 1925 epic Ben-Hur.
Though less known at the time, Novarro was a homosexual man who navigated the challenges of living in the public eye during an era that was largely intolerant of LGBTQ+ individuals. Despite the constraints of his time, Novarro’s indelible mark on Hollywood history serves as an early example of queer talent thriving in the entertainment industry.
Directed by the legendary G.W. Pabst in 1929, Pandora’s Box stands as a landmark work in queer cinema. The German film follows the life of Lulu, played by Louise Brooks, a seductive and charismatic young woman who finds herself entangled in a series of complicated romantic relationships.
One of these relationships is with the character Countess Anna Geschwitz, a wealthy and cultured woman who is devoted to Lulu. Portrayed by Alice Roberts, the Countess holds a unique place in film history as the first explicitly lesbian character, marking a departure from the often veiled representations of LGBTQ+ individuals during that period.
The portrayal of Countess Anna was genuinely groundbreaking for its time. Rather than presenting her as a negative stereotype or marginalizing her role, the film paints her as a sympathetic and complex character. The Countess’s loyalty, intelligence, and courage are showcased throughout the film, subverting the expectations of how queer characters were often depicted in early cinema if they were depicted at all.
The film was widely panned in Europe, and censorship cut so much that it was hardly recognizable as a cohesive story in the United States. It wasn’t until decades later that it was recognized as a masterpiece of film history. And by offering a more nuanced and positive-leaning portrayal of a queer character, Pandora’s Box will always have a place in the history of LGBTQ+ representation in film.
William Haines was an openly gay actor who succeeded incredibly during the silent film era of the 1920s and early 1930s. In the early 1920s, he did some modeling while living in Greenwich Village, NYC, and was spotted by a talent scout from Goldwyn Pictures. Although his movie career was slow to take off, Haines eventually became known for his charming, carefree personality on the screen, making him a popular leading man in many films of the late 1920s.
Haines’ sexuality was an open secret in Hollywood, and his sexual escapades did create some issues for the studio. Despite this, he was a huge box-office draw and continued his work in the film industry, appearing in over 50 films. Though he did coyly avert personal questions from the press, Haines refused to ever totally hide his true identity, even in the face of pressure and criticism from studio executives.
In 1933, Haines was arrested after being found in a compromising position with a sailor. Tired of the antics and likely getting heat from censors, Louis B. Mayer, head of MGM Studios, gave him an ultimatum: deny his homosexuality and marry a woman to keep his job or have his contract terminated. In a brave and unprecedented move, Haines decided to stay true to himself and leave the movie business. He eventually started a successful interior design business with his life partner, Jimmie Shields, bringing him a second wave of fame and prosperity.
Haines’ legacy as an openly gay actor and icon of early Hollywood continues to inspire and influence new generations of the LGBTQ+ community. His refusal to compromise his identity or values in the face of adversity is a reminder of the power of true self-expression and the importance of authenticity.
At the start of the 1930s, Hollywood underwent significant changes. The introduction of talking pictures (“talkies”) and the creation of the Motion Picture Production Code had many studio heads flailing to keep successful. The Production Code, also known as the Hays Code, was a set of guidelines establishing strict rules for what was acceptable to be shown onscreen. One of the areas most heavily policed was the depiction of queerness and LGBTQ+ themes.
Despite the creation of the Hays Code, the period between its introduction and its actual enforcement in 1934 is known as the “Pre-Code” era. This was when the grip of the Hays Code censorship wasn’t as tight-fisted as it later became. During this time, some of the most groundbreaking and provocative depictions of queer characters were able to make their way onto the silver screen.
The lesbian kiss in the 1930 film Morocco is one of the most famous examples of queer representation in Pre-Code Hollywood. The film, which stars Marlene Dietrich and Gary Cooper, features a scene in which Dietrich’s character, Amy Jolly, kisses another woman on the lips during a show. This was a highly controversial moment for its time, but the film was a critical and commercial success.
It remains an important milestone in the history of LGBTQ+ representation in Hollywood. The scene is notable for portraying queer desire as something fun and natural rather than something to be ridiculed or pathologized. It stands as a testament to the power of film to challenge social norms and broaden our understanding of what is possible.
Set in an all-girls boarding school, Mädchen in Uniform delivers a strikingly empathetic portrayal of lesbian desire. For this reason, the 1931 German picture holds a significant place in queer film history. Directed by Leontine Sagan, it follows the blossoming fixation of a student, Manuela, for her teacher, Fräulein von Bernburg. What’s truly notable about the film is that it avoids sensationalism completely. It comes off as realistic, focusing on the emotional and psychological aspects of Manuela’s feelings and the student-teacher relationship.
Its courageous exploration of forbidden love within a repressive environment struck a chord with audiences, transcending cultural barriers and garnering international acclaim. The film’s representation of LGBTQ+ themes did later meet the scorn of the Nazis, but it was already distributed around the world and unable to be destroyed.
This film will forever be regarded as an inclusive and authentic portrayal of queer love, making it a milestone in the evolution of LGBTQ+ cinema. It must be mentioned, however, that there is also a 1958 remake of this film you simply must see, though it’s not covered in this post.
Victor and Victoria is a 1933 German musical comedy directed by Reinhold Schünzel. It stands out as a pivotal film in queer history for its hilarious take on gender roles and sexual ambiguity. The film tells the story of a struggling actress who, with the help of her new friend Victor, reinvents herself as a man (Viktor) pretending to be a female impersonator (Viktoria). As she achieves fame and success, the line between her personal life and her act blurs. Trying to come off as a man with specific gender expectations placed upon her leads to a series of humorous and thought-provoking situations.
At a time when discussions of gender and sexuality were often suppressed or treated with hostility, Victor and Victoria provided a light-hearted and entertaining approach to these themes. The film was wildly successful and spawned multiple remakes throughout the following decades.
Interestingly, however, a film with a very similar premise was made not too long after Victor and Victoria with an entirely opposite public reaction. We’ll touch on that one later.
The 1933 American historical drama, Queen Christina, directed by Rouben Mamoulian, stars the legendary Greta Garbo in a role that left an indelible mark on queer film history. Garbo portrays the enigmatic and powerful 17th-century Swedish monarch, Christina, who defies societal expectations by assuming a masculine demeanor and refusing to marry. Although the Hollywood film strays from historical facts, adding in a bogus hetero love story, the real Queen Christina was indeed raised as a boy and did refuse to marry.
The real-life queen was also reputedly in love with her lady-in-waiting, Ebba Sparre, yet this is only subtly alluded to in the film. A sense of tenderness and intimacy suggests a deeper connection between the two women in the movie, but it’s never followed up on. There is the famed, risqué line by Garbo, though, launched ever so fabulously after a member of her council shouts that she cannot die an old maid: “I have no intention to, Chancellor. I shall die a bachelor!”
Nevertheless, the fact that a film was made about this particular historical figure in 1933 was enough to thrill the LGBTQ+ community to this day. While the movie does not explicitly state the queen’s lesbianism, the suggestive portrayal of her relationship with her lady-in-waiting is noteworthy. It demonstrates how knowledgeable filmmakers flirted with the boundaries of what was considered acceptable regarding queer representation during the Pre-Code era.
And that made under-represented people swoon.
The Hays Code, introduced in 1930 but only strictly enforced from 1934 to 1968, was a set of guidelines for the film industry that established strict rules for what could and could not be shown onscreen. As mentioned prior, one of the areas most heavily censored was the depiction of LGBTQ+ characters and themes. The Code stipulated that “sex perversion or any inference to it is forbidden,” effectively banning any explicit or implicit references to homosexuality, bisexuality, or transgender identity in cinema.
At the time, queerness was considered “sex perversion” due to prevailing societal norms and misconceptions, which viewed anything deviating from traditional gender roles and heterosexuality as morally corrupt and unnatural.
The Hays Code not only significantly impacted the portrayal of queer characters in Hollywood and across the globe, but it impacted the lives of LGBTQ+ individuals in general. Since queer stories were all but erased, no longer legally allowed to be mass-produced or distributed, LGBTQ+ communities were effectively blanketed in silence. The illegality of queerness remained strong.
All of this, of course, did not prevent the existence of queerness. Many LGBTQ+ individuals still lived and worked in Hollywood (and elsewhere across the globe, of course!). All the Code did was further drive our presence underground. Because of the Hays Code, any references to queer or LGBTQ+ characters or motifs in Hollywood films were consigned to secrecy.
Thus, queer coding began.
Queer coding is a practice that has been used in film and other media most likely for centuries. Many people owe its creation to the Hays Code, which prevented explicit depictions of LGBTQ+ people and stories from being widely distributed in film. However, it’s hard to believe this practice is so relatively new.
Queer coding uses stereotypical or exaggerated behaviors, mannerisms, or physical traits to signal that a character is queer or has queer tendencies without explicitly stating it. This creative workaround enables people to challenge societal norms and explore queer themes in mass media without ever outright stating they are doing such. Queer coding is a lot like political dog whistling – only people who are aware will be able to “hear” it.
Queer coding can be both harmful and beneficial to the LGBTQ+ community. On the one hand, it can perpetuate destructive stereotypes and reinforce the ideas that queer individuals are abnormal or deviant. On the other hand, it can allow for representations of queer characters and themes to shine through in more realistic or compassionate ways, thus opening people’s minds and potentially creating empathy.
If done in the proper context, queer coding can serve as a way for LGBTQ+ individuals to see themselves reflected in popular media despite what mainstream belief may be. This is powerful because this sends the message that they are not alone.
Queer coding became very common in early filmmaking, particularly during the Hays Code era when explicit portrayals of LGBTQ+ characters or themes were banned. It allowed for the inclusion of queer characters in mainstream films while avoiding censorship or backlash from conservative audiences.
Under the Hays Code, filmmakers could sneak in a queer theme or character and show solidarity under the radar. Queerness could be put into a film in a way that only the LGBTQ+ community could tell.
Consequently, queer coding became a means for filmmakers to work around societal constraints, commenting on issues or reflecting perspectives from within the LGBTQ+ community.
Perhaps inevitably, queer coding was often used in film to damage the LGBTQ+ community. Male villains would be overly effeminate, depicted with limp wrists and schoolgirl mannerisms, while female villains would be portrayed as mannish or aggressive.
Queer coding was also used to create comic relief characters, with males often depicted as overly flamboyant, weak, or hyper-eccentric. These widespread characterizations dehumanized people in the queer community. Stereotypical queer traits were either associated with evil and moral bankruptcy, or they were laughable and not to be taken seriously at all.
While the use of queer coding in early filmmaking may have allowed for some representation of LGBTQ+ identities, it also perpetuated harmful stereotypes. It reinforced the idea that queer individuals were abnormal, unstable, or deviant.
Ultimately, the use of queer coding in media is a complex and multifaceted issue. Its impact on the LGBTQ+ community depends on many factors, including the context in which it is used and the intentions of those using it.
So, let’s explore some films with queer-coded characters and see where we end up.
The 1934 film Forsaking All Others, directed by W.S. Van Dyke, employs queer coding in the strangest way. The role of the butler, played by Arthur Treacher, to Dillon “Dill” Todd, played by Robert Montgomery, is notable for his obvious queer coding, overtly conveyed through any dialogue or scene involving him.
Treacher had played many butlers throughout his career, and they usually had exaggerated English accents and mannerisms (he was British). However, in Forsaking All Others, the queer stereotypes were a step above.
Treacher’s butler definitely does not want to marry, even as Dill pushes the issue. Then, it is revealed he has a butterfly tattoo as the result of some shenanigans in Paris. But don’t go thinking he isn’t fond of it! There’s more here, but the movie ends with him giving an exaggerated limp-wristed wave, typically a tell-tale sign of the “fairy.” Personally, it left me wondering why.
There are also other gags about homosexuals throughout the film, with Clark Gable’s character, Jeff, cracking a few with his sidekick, Shep, played by Charles Butterworth. One instance, in particular, was purely comedic and quite effective.
None of the jokes harbored any resentment, nor did they receive any hateful feedback. The butler did not do anything devious, nor did he die a horrific death. In fact, the butler seemed to have the last word of the film with his overly floppy wave. Overall, the message may seem to be that love is love, love is complex and confusing, and who cares?
That’s all well and good. However, the queer-coded butler serving as bonus comic relief – on top of the other gags – relied on a few irritating stereotypes.
After all, the movie is a romantic comedy about heterosexual love. Why all the quips and cracks about homosexuality and queerness?
While the character of Dill’s butler may be problematic in its portrayal of queer identity, it did allow some LGBTQ+ flavor in the mix. Forsaking All Others was released the same year the Hays Code started flexing its “holier than thou” muscle. The overt queerness in the film may be a rebellion of sorts or a “testing of the waters” to see what could be gotten away with.
Screenwriter, Joseph L. Mankiewicz, never did shy away from queer material. He scripted All About Eve and directed Suddenly, Last Summer – both films known for their LGBTQ+ undertones. However, neither film is particularly uplifting for the community.
In short, the butler radiating such queer stereotypes was simply for comedic effect at the time. There’s no moral treatment in the film over whether it’s right or wrong – it just is – but its existence in the story may baffle present-day viewers.
Sylvia Scarlett was a big-budget 1935 Hollywood film directed by George Cukor and starring Katharine Hepburn, Edmund Gwenn, Cary Grant, and Brian Aherne. This movie was rather bold in challenging the gender norms of the time. Hepburn’s character, Sylvia, disguises herself as a boy named Sylvester to escape with her father from his troubled past.
As Sylvester, she navigates the complexities of gender identity, with the film exploring themes of fluidity and nonconformity. Sylvester regularly finds “himself” in tricky situations. He cannot act like a lady, yet he cannot fully embrace male attitudes and behavior. Eventually, the character gets both female and male romantic attention.
A woman draws a mustache on his face and then kisses him. Aherne’s character, Michael Fane, is strangely attracted to Sylvester (sans mustache), though it confuses him. Eventually, he says, “I say, I know what it is that gives me a queer feeling when I look at you!”
The word “queer” was not known by the mainstream at that time to mean “homosexual.” It simply meant odd or peculiar. Only people within the LGBTQ community, especially gay men, would understand the double entendre of that line. The director, George Cukor, himself a gay man, must have known this.
The daring portrayal of gender bending and the exploration of both masculine and feminine traits in a single character harkens back to Victor and Victoria. And yet, upon its release only two years later, public reaction to Sylvia Scarlett was largely negative. Why? Was it because it’s an American film? A major motion picture trying to appeal to a very large audience?
Many critics blamed the choppy storyline, but it was generally accepted that Hepburn fans simply did not want to see her as a male. The sheer skill with which Hepburn was able to get into the role, truly uncanny at times, likely made the average viewer highly uncomfortable, distracting from the comedic elements.
Yet, somehow, Sylvia Scarlett managed to pass the Hays Code, which was fully enforcing itself by 1935. Perhaps, it was because of the overall narrative that the film was allowed to evade censorship. Boy and girl eventually got together in the end, and the criminals were rejected: societal norms were firmly upheld.
The film bombed at the box office and nearly took Hepburn’s career down with it. And, although Cukor had a sprawling career after Sylvia, making many films into the early 1980s, he never worked for RKO studios again.
Obviously, the legacies of these two Golden Age giants are fully intact today. In fact, despite its initial reception, Sylvia Scarlett has since become a cult classic and is recognized as a pioneering work in challenging gender norms in cinema.
Any story or work of art that challenges the societal constraints placed on women and men alike is inherently provocative, and this film does not disappoint – even today.
Queer coding was used heavily in the 1941 film The Maltese Falcon to create the character of Joel Cairo, played by the great Peter Lorre. The character of Cairo was villainous and extremely effeminate, portrayed as being attracted to the male lead, Sam Spade, played by Humphrey Bogart.
Peter Lorre was a unique actor, to say the least. His face was unforgettable and his mannerisms were peculiar in nearly every movie he was in. Audiences never knew what to make of his characters, which was why he was usually typecast as some sort of villain. However, his role in The Maltese Falcon pushed even his idiosyncrasies to the brink.
From Cairo’s mannerisms and appearance, which included carefully manicured nails and a flower in his lapel, to the way he twiddled his cane between his lips all but screamed homosexual. The character has been interpreted by many as being gay or bisexual, even though his sexuality is never explicitly stated in the film.
The use of queer coding in The Maltese Falcon was perhaps more sinister than in the films mentioned above. This could’ve been for various reasons, whether reflecting the norms, values, and fears of the creators or simply spicing up the rules of the Hays Code. Either way, the portrayal served to dehumanize the LGBTQ+ community further.
And sadly, queer coding villains is still a common practice today.
One of the most mind-blowing uses of queer coding in film was effectively employed in the 1950 film All About Eve. Written and directed by Joseph L. Mankiewicz (there’s that name again), it opens with an unmistakably queer atmosphere that never truly seems to pass.
The film takes place in the world of the theater (or “theah-tah”), which already straddles the line of nonconformity. But by infusing the story with perfectly nuanced cues, Eve nearly ventures into an all-out exploration of queer identity within the theatrical world without ever saying so.
The portrayals of Eve Harrington (by Anne Baxter) and Addison DeWitt (by George Sanders), in particular, contain strong hints of queer coding through their interactions and behaviors, cleverly suggesting their complex identities to wise audiences without once addressing them. Whether directly or indirectly done, the queer undertones in this film have become famous in their own right. So much so that it deserves its own blog post (which I will write and link to here).
Bette Davis herself is a formidable queer icon, and much of the LGBTQ+ community, especially gay men, cannot get enough of her or this film. Now, there’s got to be a reason…
While there were several notable LGBTQ+ trailblazers in front of the camera during the early days of Hollywood, many queer individuals working behind the scenes made significant contributions to the film industry as well. These individuals often worked in the shadows, but their influence and impact on the film industry can still be felt today.
One of the most influential LGBTQ+ figures behind the scenes in early Hollywood was the famed designer known only by his first name. Adrian Greenberg worked in Hollywood from 1928 until 1941, completely reshaping the fashion world.
He created some of the most iconic looks in film history, including the ruby slippers Judy Garland wore in The Wizard of Oz. Adrian made Joan Crawford’s shoulders and Garbo’s famous hat in Romance. Even after he left Hollywood in 1941, his influence in female American fashion was unmatched until the 1950s.
He was openly gay in the film community but in a lavender marriage with Janet Gaynor, also rumored to be queer.
Adrian’s innovative designs and flair for the dramatic helped to shape the aesthetic of early Hollywood, and his influence can still be seen in the work of contemporary costume designers.
While Adrian often takes the spotlight as Hollywood’s most famous early costume designer, it’s important to acknowledge that he was far from the only Hollywood designer navigating such professional brilliance while being queer in that era.
Other key figures such as George James Hopkins, Howard Greer, Travis Banton, Mitchell Leisen, Ernst Dryden, Andre-ani, and Harold Grieve also played incredibly significant roles in shaping Hollywood’s early years – all while being gay. In fact, the newly formed ladies’ wardrobe department by the early 1920s was entirely led by gay men from every studio.
Now, of course, there were all kinds of people working in the design and wardrobe departments, particularly women doing the actual clothesmaking, but it’s safe to say LGBTQ men created the look of Hollywood’s Golden Age. It was gay men who were largely responsible for the global fashion and design trends of those many decades, stretching far beyond their times.
Each left an unforgettable mark on cinematic history, and each was super queer.
Dorothy Arzner was a filmmaker ahead of her time who made significant contributions to early Hollywood, both in terms of her technical innovations and her commitment to her own perspective and authority. She was one of the few women working in the film industry at the time, and she used her position to challenge gender norms and assumptions both on and off the screen.
Arzner was openly lesbian and created films that explored themes of female relationships in groundbreaking ways. Her films often featured strong, independent female characters who defied traditional gender roles and expectations. The women in her films bonded with one another rather than try to bring each other down.
Arzner’s legacy as a queer female filmmaker and trailblazer continues to inspire and influence new generations of filmmakers and performers. Francis Ford Coppola was a student of hers, always quick to praise her. Her contributions to the film industry were revolutionary on many levels, and her unique perspective on storytelling helped pave the way for greater representation and acceptance of women and the queer community in mainstream Hollywood.
Arzner’s influence can still be felt today. Her legacy reminds us that seeing the world from different perspectives onscreen and in the media is essential to a well-rounded society.
George Cukor was another prominent LGBTQ+ figure behind the scenes who made many significant contributions to the early film industry.
Cukor was a director known for his ability to coax powerful performances from his actors. He directed some of the most influential films of his time, including The Philadelphia Story, Gaslight, and My Fair Lady.
Although quiet about it, his homosexuality was an open secret in Hollywood. It caused some issues from time to time – there was an apparent row with Clark Gable in the Gone With the Wind days, but that is for another article.
Cukor’s influence on the film industry was profound, but what he did for the LGBTQ+ community itself was just as important.
He was known for hosting gatherings and parties for the queer community, bringing people of all breeds together. His warmth and generosity provided an outlet for many closeted homosexuals, perhaps saving a few lives. Lifelong relationships began at his parties for both queer and straight people.
Cukor’s influence on the film industry is cemented in time, and his courage to be himself undoubtedly helped many along the way.
Cole Porter, a celebrated composer and songwriter, made a significant impact on both Hollywood and queer film history. Known for his timeless hits such as “Anything Goes,” “I’ve Got You Under My Skin,” and “Night and Day,” Porter’s melodic genius graced Broadway and the silver screen. After a hot-and-cold relationship with Hollywood, Porter eventually brought unforgettable music to an array of films.
Despite the constraints of the era, Porter, a gay man, managed to cleverly infuse his work with ultra-subtle queer undertones, crafting lyrics that delicately flirted with veiled references to LGBTQ+ themes. His extraordinary talent, coupled with his ability to navigate the challenges of being a queer artist in a predominantly conservative industry, helped to pave the way for future generations of LGBTQ+ musicians and composers in the theater and film world.
Cole Porter’s enduring legacy continues to inspire and influence queer artists and allies, who recognize the importance of his contributions to both film history and the ongoing struggle for LGBTQ+ representation in the arts.
Despite the challenges presented by the Hays Code and censorship of the LGBTQ+ community, many filmmakers pushed the boundaries and found creative ways to depict queer characters and themes anyway. Queer coding, as we’ve discussed earlier, allowed for subtle portrayals of queer characters that could be interpreted as such by savvy audiences. It was, however, often used to “other” the queer community further, perpetuating reckless and harmful stereotypes.
Another way queer characters and stories were depicted was through subtext and suggestion, with writers and directors using hints and double entendre to convey a character’s queer identity without explicitly stating it.
However, if these subtle and covert portrayals went “too far,” they were met with criticism and resistance from powerful conservative groups, who saw the slightest suggestion of queerness as a threat to “traditional” values and morality. This led to a climate of fear and censorship, making it difficult for queer individuals and stories to gain any traction in mainstream Hollywood for decades.
The enforcement of the Hays Code had far-reaching consequences for the LGBTQ+ community, both in Hollywood and beyond. It helped keep painful stereotypes going and reinforced the idea that there was something wrong with queerness. It also made it difficult for LGBTQ+ individuals to see themselves represented onscreen, contributing to a sense of isolation and further marginalization.
While the code was eventually overturned in 1968, its impact on the portrayal of LGBTQ+ characters and themes is still felt today, and the struggle for genuine representation and equality in the film industry is very much alive.
It wasn’t until the 1960s and 1970s, with the rise of the counterculture and the breakdown of the studio system, that LGBTQ+ representation in film began to change. Filmmakers were no longer bound by the strictures of the Hays Code. They were able to explore themes of sexuality and gender in new and groundbreaking ways.
While progress was slow at first, with queer characters often still being relegated to minor roles or used as punchlines, there were also moments of triumph, with films like The Boys in the Band and Cabaret pushing the boundaries of what was considered acceptable in terms of LGBTQ+ representation.
Today, the film industry has made significant strides in queer representation, with more and more films and television shows featuring fully realized and complex queer characters. However, there is still much work to be done to achieve true equality.
The legacy of the Hays Code and censorship of the LGBTQ+ community will always be remembered. Due to the massive influence of the film industry, it’s an important part of queer history to remember. Still, recalling the struggles and achievements of those who came before us is crucial. That’s how we work toward a more just and inclusive future – one to look forward to.
The history of the LGBTQ+ community in early Hollywood is rich and complex. From the earliest days of the silent era to the end of the studio system, queer individuals and stories have played an important role in shaping the film industry. Despite the challenges and setbacks the community faced, there were also moments of progress that should be celebrated as filmmakers and performers pushed the boundaries of what was considered acceptable onscreen.
Today, the legacy of early LGBTQ+ representation in Hollywood lives on, inspiring new generations of filmmakers and performers to create work that challenges the status-quo and celebrates the diversity of the human experience. There is still much work to be done, but the stories and struggles of those who came before us serve as reminders of the power of film to shape culture and effect change. It’s not uncommon that tyrannical minds try to censor that which can powerfully connect us all.
That would be much too dangerous for them.