July 15-21, 2004

cover story

Wild In The Streets

Ten years in, the Philadelphia Gay and Lesbian Film Festival adjusts to its own success.

by Sam Adams

Ten years ago, Ray Murray recalls, "seven or eight hundred" people gathered to attend the first Philadelphia International Gay and Lesbian Film Festival. New Queer Cinema was in full flower; it was, after all, the year of the unprecedented Go Fish, whose co-screenwriter and star Guinevere Turner will be honored by the festival this year. And yet, for a programmer, the pickings were slim.

In 1994, Murray recalls, "I let in almost every film we saw."

This year, says the festival's artistic director, the ratio was closer to three to one, and the festival's attendance has grown to last year's 26,000. The gay and lesbian community has achieved full recognition as a marketable demographic, and American entertainment conglomerates have recognized that no matter how queer a three-dollar bill, three bucks is three bucks. In 1994, gay films were, almost by definition, art films, which is why Go Fish, which now looks like an up-the-middle romantic comedy (albeit an especially thoughtful one), caused such a stir at the time. Now, take a step in any direction and you'll trip over the latest queer-eyed rom-com. Can a genre go from establishing itself to outliving its usefulness inside of a decade?

"Acceptance isn't always good," Murray reflects. "In art, acceptance can bring mush. Sometimes it's better to be an outsider."

Of course, PIGLFF (insert our annual plea for a more euphonious acronym) has always espoused a big-tent philosophy, with room for frivolously fleshy fare alongside darker and more challenging works. But if the festival's audience has grown in size, its adventurousness hasn't increased apace; traditional art films, gay-themed or not, draw larger crowds at the Philadelphia Film Festival in April, though the return of the Prince's tiny Black Box theater allows the fest to aim for more modest crowds. Rather than blame audiences, who have made PIGLFF a success on every level year after year, Murray takes aim at the weather: One thing he learned in his many years programming repertory film, he says, is that "the same people will show up for stuff in October they wouldn't see in June."

High temps or no, the fest's big one-oh offers plenty for those seeking something outside the mainstream — whether it's gay or straight. Criminal lovers abound, from the teenager multiple murderer of The Child I Never Was to the S/M cellmates of Jailbait, and Christopher Münch's Harry and Max is sure to spark debate. (Consider the interview below your crib sheet.) Philadelphian Lee Daniels, the producer of such controversial films as Monster's Ball and the upcoming The Woodsman, had barely caught his breath from filming his Philly-shot directorial debut when A.D. Amorosi caught up with him (see p. 20). A well-rested Daniels will pick up his dangerous-looking award Saturday night, after he takes part in a panel discussion on GLBT filmmakers of color in the afternoon.

That's not to say that this year's festival is unkind to the frivolous-minded; our hard-hearted critics found room for some of the fest's airier concoctions, though you'll have turn the page to find out which. In all, we've previewed more than half of the festival's 70-odd films: two dozen reviews in this issue, with films premiering in the festival's second week to come next Thursday. Silly or serious, we've got you covered.