If you have ever taken a film course before— at St. Lawrence or anywhere else— you know that representation in the media is extremely important. Specifically, certain questions when it comes to film: who gets to be shown on the big screen, and who in the audience may identify with that representation? Traditionally, representation in Hollywood films culminated with heterosexual white men, who continue to dominate media platforms across the country. Fortunately, within the last few decades, Hollywood has somewhat diversified its vision of who gets to be represented in film, beginning to include representations of queer and BIPOC individuals.   

If you are interested in expanding your perspective on queer film (and having a good laugh or two in the process), then look no further than The Birdcage (Nichols, 1996). The Birdcage is a remake of the French film “La Cage aux Folles,” which was written by Jean Poiret and released in 1978. The modern version of the film follows the narrative of the original movie pretty closely, and centers around a gay couple who own a drag club in South Beach, Fla., called The Birdcage. Armand Goldman (Robin Williams)— the owner and producer of the club— and his drag queen husband Albert (Nathan Lane)— the star act of the club — are shocked when their son Val returns home, claiming to be engaged. Val explains that his fiancée is the daughter of a severely Conservative senator who was recently caught up in a ferocious scandal. Given the circumstances, it might facilitate his wedding arrangements if Armand— with or without the help of Albert— were to “play it straight,” and disguise his identity for one night to host a dinner party with Val’s future in-laws. Naturally, nothing goes according to plan, and Armand and Albert engage in the performance of a lifetime.   

The dialogue and acting are a huge part of what makes “The Birdcage” work so well—the humor of the film, along with Lane and William’s stunning and dramatic performances, are the key to breaking down negative stereotypes surrounding queer individuals. Additionally, there is an interesting dynamic between Val and his parents: Val is the catalyst who attempts to convince them to conform to social expectations and camouflage from others the life they worked so hard to create for themselves, and Armand and Albert who, despite initially defending their right to existence and expression, eventually give in to Val’s request out of their love for him.   

As parents, how much do you sacrifice for your children? When discussing queer representation, we often use the slogan “love is love,” without truly understanding the many different nuances of the phrase. Armand and Albert—regardless of how much they had to overcome to openly be their authentic selves—decided to go to great lengths to stifle certain aspects of their existence to make Val more comfortable when introducing them to his future family. If that isn’t love, I don’t know what is.