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Queer cinema, no matter how rebellious, is the child of straight cinema-its bastard child, perhaps, but its progeny no less. Queer cinema must push against decades of tradition to create itself anew. Borrowed genres and hand-me-down narratives have served their purpose. If the (curated though not novel) propositions and (recent though not unique) examples that follow point anywhere, it is to a still-to-be-imagined future where queer cinema can continue to expand while never ceding its right to be "nice" in order to serve those it portrays.

Betancourt reviews The Desiring-Image: Gilles Deleuze and Contemporary Queer Cinema by Nick Davis and Ethereal Queer Television, Historicity, Desire by Amy Villarejo.

Cette vidéaste regarde - et nous fait regarder - la frontière comme un espace mental et matériel : les interviews, la voix over dont le texte apparaît à l'écran, les citations de textes, les images, les sons et le found footage sont combinés de façon à donner un aperçu saisissant et intime à la fois des conditions de vie des femmes (division du travail, prostitution, violence à l'égard des femmes dans les rues, etc.) propres aux régions frontalières, c'est-à-dire se définissant en fonction des contraintes liées à leur position limitrophe, mais offrant une certaine liberté aux gens qui y vivent du fait, justement, de cette position. Il est intéressant de voir comment le road movie permet de réaffirmer la place de l'automobile comme pur moyen de mobilité, mais en même temps comment il nous oblige à nous concentrer sur un autre type de mobilité, que Walter Moser (2008, p. 9) appelle la « médiamotion », soit : une forme de mobilité que nous procurent les médias mais qui, dans un certain sens, remplace ou redouble le déplacement physique en offrant aux êtres humains une expérience presque paradoxale : le contact à distance. On peut également voir dans le road movie contemporain un « road movie interculturel6», parce que la route y trace «un espace imaginaire particulièrement apte à figurer la complexité et les asymétries de l'interculturel » (Gin 2008, p. 41), mais également parce que : l'intetculturalité [...] du road movie résiderait en ce sens dans le mouvement que subit un principe ou une pulsion d'identification culturelle ne pouvant ni se réaliser ou s'assouvir - narrativement, visuellement - dans l'univocité d'un arrêt sur image, ni pour autant s'épuiser on the road Xp. 44). En fait, la mobilité transnationale se situant au centre de cette production filmique «accentuée» donne lieu à un ensemble de tentatives en constante évolution, où les identités culturelles en devenir peuvent être «constamment reformulées dans une perspective future, bien que conditionnées par des liens historiques et des devoirs avec le passé» (Grillo, Riccio et Salih 2000, p. 16), aussi bien que par les liens qu'entretiennent les migrants et les exilés avec leur identité et leur culture d'origine.

The history of gay and lesbian cinema is a storied one, and became that much larger with the recent success of Brokeback Mountain. But the history of gay and lesbian filmmakers is its own story. In The View From Here, queer directors and screenwriters speak passionately about the medium, in particular their personal experiences navi-gating the often cynical and cruel film industry. All of them offer fascinating anecdotes and ideas about cinema, and speak candidly about their attempts to combat studio apathy and demands of “the market” to create films that are entertaining, engaging, and truthful.

Straight  Skin,  Gay  Masks  and  Pretending  to  Be  Gay  on  Screen  examines cinematic depictions  of  pretending-to-be-gay,  assessing  performances  that not only reflect heteronormative and explicitly homophobic attitudes, but also  offer  depictions  of  gay  selfhood with  more  nuanced  multidirectional identifications. The case of straight protagonists pretending to be gay on screen is the ideal context in which to study unanticipated progressivity and dissidence in regard to  cultural  construction  of  human sexualities  in  the  face  of  theatricalized epistemological collapse. Teasing apart the dynamics of depictions of both sexual  stability  and  fluidity  in  cinematic  images  of  men  pretending  to  be gay offers new insights into such salient issues as sexual vulnerability and dynamics  and  long-term  queer  visibility  in  a  politically  complicated  mass culture  which  is  mostly  produced  in  a  heteronormative  and  even  hostile cultural environment. Additionally, this book initially examines queer uses of sexuality masquerade in Alternate Gay World Cinema that allegorically features a world pretending to be gay, in which straights are harassed and persecuted, in order to expose the tragic consequences of sexual intolerance. Films  and  TV  series  examined  as  part  of  the  analysis  include  The  Gay Deceivers, Victor/Victoria, Happy Texas, William Friedkin’s Cruising and many other straight and gay screens. This  is  a  fascinating  and  important  study  relevant  to  students  and researchers in Film Studies, Media Studies, Gender Studies, Queer Studies, Sexuality Studies, Communication Studies and Cultural Studies.

Toni Morrison purportedly began her career as a novelist because she noticed a dearth of books about black women. As a result of this limitation, Morrison desired to write books “for people like [her], which is to say black people, curious people, demanding people—people who can’t be faked, people who don’t need to be patronized.”¹ Similarly the writer, director, and filmmaker Coquie Hughes (born Latasha Iva Hughes in Chicago in 1970) has produced narratives that feature an array of queer black women—“Girls Like Us” as she calls them in her web series—who are curious, demanding, flawed, and

At the 2012 Golden Globe awards, during her acceptance speech for the Best Actress award for her performance in The Iron Lady (Phyllida Lloyd, 2012), Meryl Streep gave a shout-out to Adepero Oduye for her role as Alike in Dee Rees’s feature film Pariah (2011). The sentiment behind this esteemed acknowledgment was that brilliant performances in important independent films were overlooked and deserved recognition. Streep would go on to win the Best Actress Oscar for a her portrayal of Britain’s first woman prime minister, the a ultraconservative Margaret Thatcher.

The first time I spoke in public about my work was during the Los Angeles Lesbian and Gay Festival in 1990. Cheryl Dunye was the only other woman of color on the panel. When I asked a question regarding funding, I naïvely stated that funding was not a prob lem for me considering the fact that my work at that time was of medium to low production quality. I had minimal access to a low-end production facility, and my piece was only five minutes long. I was alluding to the fact that it has been “easy” for me.

Deeply grounded in the legacy of Black lesbian artists, writers, and filmmakers, current Black lesbian filmmakers are helping to build infrastructure for a transformed future using deeply interconnected methods to transform the whole world and (while we’re at it) the meaning of life. This chapter looks at two projects, the established and evolving Queer Women of Color Media Arts Project based in San Francisco and the emerging Queer Renaissance and Black Feminist Film School Project based in Durham, North Carolina, as examples of the robust future of Black lesbian filmmaking as a transformative community-building practice. The Queer Women of Color

Around 1994 or 1995 I came across a call for articles for an anthology to be published by the XII Black International Cinema , documenting ten years of the festival and associated activities, 1986– 95. The request asked for articles and film lists from an international and intercultural group of scholars and filmmakers, and I thought this was an opportunity to document the exciting and pioneering work that was being done by a community of emerging Black lesbian and gay film-and video makers at the time.

In novel ways, and from a surprising location, Yvonne Welbon’s Remembering Wei-Yi Fang, Remembering Myself: An Autobiography (1995) explores some of the same dilemmas that earlier African American expatriate artists promulgated, using their time abroad as a win dow onto America, while relishing the nurturing possibilities of partial escape from American racism. Some of the most complex and insightful observations about America and American racism have been crafted by African American expatriate artists such as James Baldwin and Josephine Baker. These artists’ depictions of their encounters abroad complicate our understandings of American identity and American racism.

The interactive book is a term heard frequently in reference to early experiments in multimedia production. But how to translate the concept of the book into a medium that has no paper, no pages, remains a challenge. Is not a book an object one holds in one’s hands—the cover affected over time by the acids and oils perspiring from the user’s skin, pages turned down and yellowed, torn or marked up? Research could show that the notion of the traditional book has been challenged throughout history. But this challenge has been accelerated with the growing accessibility of new computer

Early in the following interview, Pamela Jennings explains to Yvonne Welbon that her work gradually expanded from an initial and abiding interest in street photography toward working with and through forms of computational media. Jennings equates her move toward what she describes as “computational-based creative expression” with her growing interest in multimedia throughout the early 1990s, and she uses the term multimedia as a way of marking her work in a variety of different media and her interest specifically in computational media because the formulation computational media was not available to her then. The compelling relationship Jennings narrates between her

In interviews the comedian Wanda Sykes describes being a successful black, openly gay woman in Hollywood as akin to being a unicorn. Clearly Sykes is majestic. Yet her joke hinges on a bitter truth: the mainstream media industry grants few women, not to mention lesbians of color, access to power. Despite shifts in the cultural imaginary around civil rights, Hollywood continues to maintain an embarrassing lack of diversity in its labor force, especially at decision-making levels. To battle this long-standing reputation, studios have developed diversity-hiring programs.

Shari Frilot is a filmmaker and curator whose creative practice has been driven by sustained explorations of sexuality, technology, desire, cosmic and subatomic structures, mixed-raced identity, and chaos. She has often expressed her modus operandi in the following terms: “It’s impossible to see a cloud when you’re in the middle of it. You have to move outside of the cloud to really get a sense of it.” By continually shifting between the outside and inside of a given framework—whether institutional or personal—Frilot has developed keen modes of challenging conventional structures for understanding and engaging the moving image.

It is the twenty-first century, and there is a black lesbian director and producer making pornography! Porn, a genre of film and media that in the last quarter of the twentieth century many black feminist lesbians viewed as capable only of representing and manifesting violence, abuse, and shame. In this essay I examine one of the early works of the black lesbian filmmaker Shine Louise Houston, In Search of the Wild Kingdom (2007), to explore how and why we have arrived at what is a transition from Blues Legacies and Black Feminisms to Pink and White Productions, and from New

I grew up on the West Side of Chicago, where it was infested with gangs and drugs and violence. But I was always the type of person that wanted to be better than my environment, and I was also the type of person that didn’t want people to underestimate me because of where I came from. And so I made up in my mind, even as a young child, that I wanted to be somebody. I love making movies. I’ve wanted to be who I am ever since I saw Sidney Lumet’s movie The Wiz (1978).

In mainstream media, gays and lesbians of color are either woefully present or predictably absent. The litany of black gay and lesbian characters in Hollywood films and network television reads like its own form of blackface. They range from the burly, black “bulldagger” as whore house madam in the 1933 film The Emperor Jones (starring Paul Robeson) to the predatory lesbian vamp in Spike Lee’s 1983 She’s Gotta Have It ; from Eddie Murphy’s ultracamp Miss Thing hairdresser on NBC’s Saturday Night Live to the snap! queen duo on Fox TV’s In Living Color. These relentless stereo types are part of

In 2005 Angela Robinson released her spy spoof, D.E.B.S. (2004). Robinson first realized the project as the short film D.E.B.S. (2003) through a training program with POWER UP (Professional Organization of Women in Entertainment Reaching Up), the only 501(c)(3) nonprofit film production company and educational organization for women and the GLBTQ community. In 2005 she also became the second black woman and first black lesbian to direct a studio feature, the Disney film Herbie Fully Loaded starring Lindsay Lohan. This moment marked the beginning of the black lesbian media maker hyphenate as Angela Robinson moved to television and began working on The L Word as a writer, director, and eventually producer. Patricia White's essay in this section, "'Invite Me In!': Angela Robinson at the Hollywood Threshold," offers an in-depth exploration of her career trajectory.

The Mammy has been in our field of vision as a popular icon representing black womanhood for more than a century in literature, film, and television and in consumer and material culture.¹ Described as an asexual, rotund slave of older age whose sole responsibility is to take care of her master’s children, Mammy is a beloved character who represents all that is nurturing and maternal. She is dark-skinned and boisterous and thought to have mannish features such as large feet and hands. Mammy wears a large skirt, hiding her sex, and covers her nappy hair with a bandanna or handkerchief.